Darcy knew then that it was hopeless, but he tried to set boundaries. “I will stay out of hearing—but within sight of you and Anne. Perhaps in the orangery. I do not like it, Elizabeth, not at all.”
Her smile returned, and his irritation faded.
“I do love you,” she said, and he was lost. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, he would give to her until his last breath.
45
NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTES
“Ihave no idea why you have forced this conversation,” Miss de Bourgh said, staring at Elizabeth with obvious dislike. “We have nothing to say to each other. You have ruined my entire life, and I consider you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy.”
For someone who had nothing to say, Elizabeth noted, Anne de Bourgh had not stopped speaking since she had joined her out here in the orangery. She glanced around the large building, to see Darcy, on its opposite end, hands folded across his chest, a glower on his face. Perhaps he could not hear perfectly, but he could hear enough.
“From our infancy, we were intended for each other,” she sniffed. “It was a favourite wish of his mother’s, as well as my own.”
Elizabeth decided it would be useless to point out that Darcy had been free to make that marriage any time in the last several years, had he ever intended it.
“What is it that you love about Darcy?” she asked. For allof Miss de Bourgh’s ranting about what Elizabeth had taken from her, she had barely mentioned anything of her affectionate feeling towards him.
“Love?” The lady seemed astonished by the question. “Have you not been listening? We were meant to be together! Oh, you have never seen Pemberley in the spring, when the wee flowers begin breaking free from their imprisonment of snow…and the views! They are quite beyond belief. One need only walk along the back terrace to see more of nature’s finest visions than you would ever find in Hertfordshire,” she said, looking around her with a dismissive eye. “Pemberley’s terrace features a considerable flight of steps leading directly into the wilderness, where a planted wood of several acres flourishes, and though chiefly of oak and alder, larch and laurel, beech and birch, it is laid out perfectly, a feast of dappled shade and natural beauty. And when the lilacs are in bloom and the horse-chestnuts out, everything is so fresh and beautiful that I feel I could live to be a thousand years old and never ask for anything more.”
When Miss de Bourgh finally paused for breath, Elizabeth offered a comment. “It sounds as though you are in love with Pemberley, not Darcy.”
“Do not be a fool. The only way to have Pemberley is to have Darcy.”
Elizabeth only looked at her.
“What?” Miss de Bourgh snapped after a few moments of silence. “Perhaps in the country, you have more romantic ideas, but in the real world, it is how alliances are formed.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Miss de Bourgh, I have read your work, at least a little of it, featuring Manfred and Theodosia. I have heard your poetry, spoken from the heights of a towerinto the roaring flames beneath. You are probably the most romantic, imaginative person I have ever met.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, her companion’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she went from haughty to eager and inquisitive. “Do you think so? What was your opinion? I sobbed when Manfred tossed poor Theodosia off the wall—the scene was so very affecting. But perhaps I am especially sensitive. I would love to know…did it bring you to tears?”
Elizabeth bit her tongue against the laughter that wished to escape. “You must recall, my dear, that you gave me only an excerpt of your fine story. I thought it very engaging, what little there was of it. I was not overfond of hearing your alteration to its title,The Death of Mrs Darcy. But why did you change it? Why send any of your story to me?”
For the first time, Miss de Bourgh had the grace to look slightly ashamed. “Oh, you would never understand! I felt so miserable, knowing I would have to live with Mama at Rosings Park for the rest of my life. She simply hates anything growing naturally—everything must be in neat, orderly rows…roses go here and shrubs grow there and no, we must not have mulberry trees, they are so untidy, and the writing is so much easier whilst in the midst of a wild landscape. I could not take another moment of it! IwantedDarcy to feel guilty for abolishing my hopes. Rosings is simply…tame and deadly dull and tediously the same every single day. "
“You have had an adventure away from it recently. How did you find London?”
“Noisy and smelly. I could hardly think there, much less write.”
“You do realise, do you not, that Mrs Darcy of Pemberley will have very little time for such creative pursuits? There areservants to manage, menus to plan, events to arrange, rooms to refurbish?—”
“Pemberley has a fine housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, and the house steward, Mr Reeves, who have managed the place for many years!”
“And will you also have Mrs Reynolds fill your nursery? There are duties expected of Mrs Darcy that no servant can fulfil.”
For the first time, Miss de Bourgh looked uncertain. Elizabeth did not hesitate to widen the gap in her flawed logic. “Did you know I have been widowed once already, before marrying Mr Darcy?”
“But…but you are so young!”
“I was wed to the master of a great estate when I was but sixteen. Believe me, Miss de Bourgh, being married to a man for whom you hold no real passion or affection—it is a tremendous burden. Tell me truthfully, can you feel towards Darcy anything close to what your Theodosia felt for Manfred? Anything like it at all?”
46
MANFRED LEARNS MANNERS
Miss de Bourgh stared at Elizabeth with an expression that could only be described as uncomprehending. “But…but that is fiction. Everyone knows that it is not real. Mama has said, over and over again, that the only means of having Pemberley was marriage, and that it was possible Darcy would change his mind once he was old enough to reconsider the benefits of family and fortune.” She stood and began pacing, as if trying to comprehend what she had just been told. At least she had not begun screaming or raving.
