He nodded and left her. Retrieving the unread letter, Elizabeth broke the seal, only to find a letter from Jane secured inside.
Dearest Lizzy,
How is London? Aunt Gardiner speaks of having seen you. Was she well?
My husband continues to mutter under his breath about the extreme displeasure of his patroness. Lady Catherine saw the announcement in the paper and went into a rage. I understand from Miss de Bourgh that her mother’s things are being moved to the dower house at the end of the week in consequence of her misconduct.
Sir Andrew came to take his leave. He plans to go to Briar Court for a week before returning to town. He will stay with Lady de Bourgh until the end of June.
In an attempt to distract my husband, I have finally informed him that I am with child. I felt the quickening recently and the midwife informs me to expect our child in September. My ploy worked for a time, but he has returned to speaking ill of your marriage to Mr. Darcy, mixing his expressions of pleasure with insults toward your person.
Send your letters to Aunt Gardiner. She will enclose them within her own and send them to me. Mr. Collins checks the direction on the post but has not demanded to see my letters. He is content, I think, to believe me biddable and obedient.
I hope you are making the best of your marriage, Lizzy. You and Mr. Darcy can be happy.
Love,
Jane
Elizabeth, though happy to hear from Jane, felt sad that her sister had to resort to subterfuge in order to write to her. She hoped that in time Mr. Collins would learn to forgive and would permit their exchange of letters once more.
Feeling slightly better, she went to her chambers to fulfill her promise to her husband. She rested in a comfortable chair, reading a book from the light of the window. The peace and solitude helped restore her good spirits, and by dinner, she felt equal to being in company again.
Darcy expressed his delight at seeing her well and prevailed upon her and Georgiana to favor him with music after the meal. They each played a piece of music and performed a duet before Elizabeth ceded the instrument to her sister and joined her husband on the settee.
He leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “I am pleased to see you are feeling better,” he said, repeating his earlier sentiments.
“I assure you, sir, my constitution is hardy and strong. I do not swoon often.”
“I am relieved to hear it.” He took her hand, tracing her fingers before turning it palm up and tracing designs on her palm.
His touch sent thrills through her, and she leaned against him, truly relaxing for the first time since yesterday afternoon. She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.
“Shall we retire?” he said huskily.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded. Darcy bid his sister good night and led her from the room.
Later, after her husband had returned to his own bed, Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered before drifting off to sleep. She cataloged her husband’s many good traits, remembering small moments that showed his character to its advantage. He demonstrated his love daily, and she knew in her heart that if their positions had been reversed and Mr. Bingley had attempted to persuade him away from Elizabeth, Darcy would have refused to abandon her. Jane had been correct; Mr. Bingley alone held responsibility for his actions, for succumbing to the whims of others. Had he truly loved Jane, he would not have abandoned her.
No, she did not love Darcy yet; indeed, there were many aspects of his behavior that she found objectionable, but her heart softened toward him a little more every day, and for a brief moment before sleep claimed her, she wished he still lay beside her.
Chapter Thirty-One
May 26, 1812
London
Charlotte
Charlotte’s first two weeks with Lady de Bourgh passed pleasantly. Gone was the haughty, stubborn, imposing woman who had antagonized Lady Catherine, and in her place was a warm, amiable, welcome hostess. Amelia’s attentiveness to Charlotte’s every whim filled something in her life that she did not realize she missed.
The day following their excursion to Bond Street, Charlotte and Amelia sat together in the breakfast room, partaking of the many delights prepared by the house’s well-trained cook and kitchen staff. Charlotte’s foot tapped to the tune she played in her head as she put peach preserves on a scone.
“What shall we do today?” Amelia asked.
She is rather spritely for a lady of her years,Charlotte thought to herself. “I am unsure,” she replied aloud. “We went out yesterday; I am not in the mood to go to Bond Street again.”
“Quite right. It is not my day to be at home to callers, and we have no invitations elsewhere. Shall we take a walk in the park? We might have a picnic for lunch.” Amelia smiled, her eyes twinkling.
