Strange, vexing man. What did he come here for if not to eat?
I was considering abandoning all dignity and chasing after him, demanding . . . something—a conversation—a chance for us to be agreeable to each other—but Sir Sebastian waddled briskly into the room as ifheowned it and then launched himself into my lap as if he owned me as well.
I could have deposited the dog onto the floor, caught up with Mr. Darcy and apologized for my inebriation on our wedding night and for whatever misunderstanding that had just caused him to leave so abruptly (really, I have no idea why things turned so suddenly antagonistic between us) but Sir Sebastian had already made himself quite comfortable, so I let him be my excuse for cowerdice.
I would look silly if I went dashing after Darcy anyway. And what could I possibly say?
"What am I to do?" I asked aloud.
The dog regarded me seriously.
"My husband cannot bear to be in the same room with me apparently."
My eyes prickled. My bottom lip wobbled dangerously. I bit down on it hard.
"No, you will not, Lizzy. You. Will. Not."
Sir Sebastian cocked his head endearingly, his eyes displaying great concern. Somehow that made it all the worse.
I sniffed. It was a wet, gurgling, I-am-about-to-bawl-like-a-child-denied-a-sweet sniff. No. No. No. I refused to cry over eggs and blood pudding whilst conducting a one-sided conversation with an obese terrier; it was just too ridiculous.
The dog placed one of his front paws comfortingly on my arm as if to say, "Steady on. It cannot be all that bad."
"You are right, of course. I am not even two full days wed, there is no need for despair yet. I have plenty of time to fix my marriage. A lifetime, actually."
I patted Sir Sebby and he rolled over as to give better access to his enormous belly. "Good, good, that's settled then," he said (not aloud, of course, I haven't run completely mad—he said this with hiseyes) "Now give me a sausage—that's a good girl."
Evening
I have never ridden to the hounds being neither an accomplished horsewoman nor a great huntress so I never knew until now how exciting the chase could be. Now, after nearly a full day on his trail, my quarry is within range.
Yet here I tarry in the library, hiding pathetically behind a bookshelf whilst spying on my husband, too shocked to join the scene happening before me.
Mr. Darcy is being pleasant. I've seen him polite. Yesterday he was everything polite to his relations, he even displayed real affection for them even if a certain stiffness of manner was still present. Pleasantness I thought would be quite beyond his talents. Apparently not. It is most disconcerting.
"I should not have let the girls trouble you, sir," said little Miss Hopkins as she worried at the lace on her sleeve. She is the fidgety sort, at least in the presence of Mr. Darcy.
"To say they are no trouble at all would be an outrageous falsehood as I am certain they trouble you from waking until sleep, so I will say instead they are of no inconvenience tomeand commit no perjury," Darcy said as he walked along the shelves. Stopping suddenly, he plucked a book from the topmost shelf and offered it to Henrietta who accepted the tome with a happy squeal.
Still picking at her lace fretfully the governess replied,"They are notsovery troublesome."
"Then you have the tolerance of a saint," Darcy teased with a wink at Belinda and Henrietta.
"Troublesome we may be, but we are a delightful sort of trouble. A few puckish, meddlesome characters are necessary in any good farce," said Henrietta.
"Our lives are a farce then?" challenged Darcy.
After a thoughtful pause Henrietta answered loftily, "Better farce than tragedy." She grinned at her own cleverness.
"We are studying the work of Shakespeare." Miss Hopkins said, she must have felt Darcy's questioning glance rather than observed it for she had yet to look him in the eye.
"I preferred Marlowe," announced Belinda. "His plays had far more death and demons. I particularly like demons."
"We have yet to cover Shakespeare's histories and tragedies," Miss Hopkins put in hurriedly
"Ah, I see," said Darcy. "You may yet alter your opinion, Belinda.Macbethwill appeal to you especially, I should think."
"Has it demons?"
