“My sister calls me that!” She flinched at the hard look in his eyes. “That is a family name.” His eyes did not soften even after he moderated his tone.
“I beg your pardon? You have not once called me Lizzy or Elizabeth. You think so little of me that you will not, even now, let me address you by your Christian name?”
“As I said, madam, it is a name forfamily. I am certain you are needed elsewhere.” He looked to the door and gave a lazy gesture with his hand before returning to his letter.
All the wretched grief of watching his nearest relative die did not make it acceptable for her to be dismissed as though she were a disobedient child. Elizabeth crossed the room, plucked the pen from his hand, and bent it in half.
“Mrs Darcy!”
“Yes, I am Mrs Darcy, and you had best remember that. We had an agreement: fidelity and respect. We may have married without affection,but we are, in fact, married. To be mistress of Mr Darcy’s house may not be anything, but I am still your wife and am due more honour than what you have shown me.”
“I have honoured our agreement, and have been perfectly?—”
“No, whatever adjective you were going to use, you have not. If you insist on my calling you Mr Darcy, then you had best remember that until I die, I amMrsDarcy, and you owe me more respect!”
She stalked from the room with as much pride as she could muster before going into the garden where she was sure to have the privacy to cry. She had not lied when she said that this home was better than Longbourn; she was independent, admired, and useful so long as Georgiana needed her.But when she is dead, what will happen to me?If she was to be treated coldly by Mr Darcy, the independence of her situation as a married woman would not make her days much more bearable here than they had been at Longbourn.
No, this is not how I shall spend my final weeks.Any dignity she was going to have at Netherfield Lodge would not be granted to her by simply being Mrs Darcy. She would have to take it for herself. Elizabeth wiped her eyes, and gathered the flowers she had cut. Crying over Mr Darcy’s rudeness and lack of sympathy was not going to help, and it certainly would not do Georgiana any good.
“Can I bring you anything,my dear?”
Georgiana shook her head as Darcy sat by her side after he carried her into the little parlour. “Where is Lizzy?”
“She has been outside this quarter hour to collect flowers to brighten your room.” He had watched her through his study window and knew that five minutes of her time was spent crying, and the other ten minutes in calming her mind. The flowers were incidental.
“She has a sunny disposition. You must let her cheer you in the days ahead.”
“Mrs Darcy is a charming woman”—even if she did ruin a fine quill—“but nothing will cheer me in the days and weeks ahead.”
“I am going to die, Fitzwilliam, and I am ready. I am ready for thepain to end. You cannot know how I long to finally see my son.” She forced him to meet her eye. “Let your wife comfort and love you when I am gone.”
He had no answer that his sister could hear.
“I know that you quarrelled this morning.”
Darcy started. “How could you have known that?”
“From the smallness of the house and the manner in which it was built, noises pass from one point of this house to the other. I could not hear the words, but the tone was unmistakable.”
He would never open his wife to criticism, but Mrs Darcy had no right to imply he did not respect her. It was simply easier to remember himself and his position when he thought of her as Mrs Darcy rather than Elizabeth. She was going to die soon herself, and there was no reason to allow her to influence what little domestic felicity he could have before she did.
It was not that she was an unworthy woman. There was not a woman in all of his acquaintance who had an equal claim to virtue through her affectionate behaviour as did Mrs Darcy. He respected her good qualities, but the familiarity and admiration had to end there.Besides, my sister’s comfort and feelings are my priority.
Georgiana was still looking at him with disapproving, sunken eyes. “You need not concern yourself with our trivial domestic matters,” he said.
“You ought to set aside your pride and apologise.”
The coughing fit that followed prevented Darcy from telling his sister to mind her place. When it passed, with another basin filled with the fetid contents of her lungs and more of her strength lost, she laid propped up against the pillows. She was feverish and weak, and her pulse was quick.
“Shall I read to you?”
Georgiana shook her head feebly. “Apologise to Lizzy.” She closed her eyes and fell into a light sleep.
Darcy regretted losing his patience with Mrs Darcy, but she sought a familiarity that he could not, would not indulge in. He certainly would not call her Elizabeth. The sole time he addressed her that way was when he said, “I, Fitzwilliam, take thee Elizabeth to my weddedwife.” He had too much guilt, too much grief, too much anger, and too little of himself to give to a woman he married only for convenience. He leant back in his chair and closed his weary eyes.
“Has sleep repaired the frayed edges of your temper?”
He sat up with a start and looked around. The shadows were longer, and Mrs Darcy was standing in front of him with a letter in her hand. Darcy rubbed his eyes and sighed. She looked reluctant to have to speak to him, perhaps was even disappointed in him.I am disappointed in myself.Mrs Darcy did have a sunny disposition, a radiant gracefulness that would bewitch him if he let it. An apology, then, and then he would keep a respectful distance. “Mrs Darcy, I am exceedingly s?—”
