Plenty of heads turned their way during the service, surreptitiously judging the new Mrs Darcy. After the dutiful left, she was more prominently on display as Darcy touched his hat to a dozen people, and introduced her to more. It was not as though the highest peers of the realm noticed her. But at a certain level of London society—wealthy gentlemen, baronets, a few earls, and a viscount—whom Mr Darcy of Pemberley had married was a genuine matter of interest.
At least she supposed she must be of interest, given how many men and ladies gawked at her.
Elizabeth kept on a cheerful expression and was amiable to everyone, but she saw in Darcy’s face that he grew weary of the notice. He wanted to turn the tide of favour about his family, but he did detest the attention. They were both a curiosity, but the pressure of their success or failure was almost entirely on her. She had to be a credit to him, be near perfect in her behaviour to be accepted, and be on display a great deal more than she wanted. But did being a wife not also mean taking care of her husband?
During a pause in the conversation, she put an arm through his and said, “Mr Darcy, I am afraid I am rather tired.”
He immediately made their excuses to take his wife home, and when they were on the street and farther from the groups lingering outside the church, he said in a low voice, “I suppose you were tired of being judged?”
She was, but she had been thinking of him. “I thought perhaps you too were tired of it.”
He exhaled a heavy sigh that answered for it. “I did not consider how tedious it would be to prove to the world our marriage is not a mistake.”
She hated it as well, but she had to be recognised by Darcy’s circle. How could he fully accept her as his wife and partner if she were a disgrace? He might not say it, but nothing less than excellence would be tolerated.
“We will return wedding visits and attend dinners beginning tomorrow. I just need a brief reprieve from being a curiosity.”
As he agreed, she looked back at the fashionable church before they turned down the street and said, “Did you think you would have married from there?”
“Actually, I had assumed I would be married at the parish church at home. But now that I think on it, surely every woman also believes she will marry from her father’s house, so I would more likely have married from wherever my future wife lived.”
“An innyard in Scotland was never a consideration?”
He smiled. “Certainly not. But here we are, and I believe the vows stated are more important than how fashionable the church or if a special licence was used.” As they neared the house, he asked, “Do you want to go in, or walk in the Green Park? We are sure to see Lady Summerlin or Mrs Ballston, who both wished to know you better.”
And it would be good for her to be noticed by them. Normally, she would always prefer a walk, but there would be many of the first circles strolling through all the public spaces today, and many who were not friends of Darcy’s family, like those two ladies were. But either way, supportive friend or society stranger, she had to impress them.
“There would be stolen stares and more impertinent questions, Darcy, and I would rather avoid it. Do you mind? I know we are here to be on display, but could I have one more day of rest before we begin again? I do not mind becoming acquainted with your friends and returning calls, and I enjoy meeting new people and studying their characters, but…”
“But the whispers are not as quiet as they think,” he said carefully. “‘Do they love one another?’ ‘Why did he elope with her?’ ‘Did he marry her because she is pretty?’ ‘Did she marry him for his money?’” He sighed. “Why do we not conserve our strength for the week ahead?”
As they entered the house, Darcy went into the library, leaving the door open behind him as though expecting her to join him. She smiled to herself as she did. He remembered how her father had acted toward her, and so he welcomed her into his space.
“I will be glad to go down to Pemberley,” he muttered. “Maybe we forgo the season and just hide there.”
“You do not mean that,” she said, grinning. “After Christmas, we can come back to town and meet all the people who come only for the winter and preserve your family’s good name with them and go through this all over again.Thenwe can go back to Pemberley.”
“I promise the round of visiting and gawking in that neighbourhood will be far less, and kinder, too. You can listen to the sermon without everyone’s eyes on you.”
She watched Darcy and wondered if he might be more distressed at not marrying in a church service in a place like St George’s than he let on. He had taken the trouble to make their irregular border marriage as legitimate as he could. A church wedding in England would have made his marriage and her acceptance more tolerable. Running away to Scotland with a poor unknown was much to be overcome. Maybe if Darcy’s heir was christened in Hanover Square, she would cease to be a novelty, but it seemed he would prefer that to happen at Pemberley.
Elizabeth’s thoughts swirled, but Darcy did not notice as he went to a bookshelf. She had married into that house in Derbyshire, that land, that family. And heir to the next generation would come from her body.
Curious thoughts of how that would happen and how it would feel came to her suddenly. Would it be enjoyable and create a deeper intimacy, or would it be awkward in every possible way?
She did not feel equal to that act yet, but it would ultimately happen. But what if it took her a long time to reconcile herself? How long would Darcy be patient? Would he, meanwhile, seek a former mistress? She doubted he would pursue any natural appetites the way Wickham had, and Wickham had even crudely hinted that he did not. But had there been someone, and would there be anyone again? Would he ever look outside their marriage?
It seemed unlikely and yet the fear pressed on her.
“You are staring.”
She started and apologised.
Darcy held a book and watched her. “Are you lost in thought? What is the matter?”
“Nothing I can put into words,” she said. Darcy raised hiseyebrows but rather than ignore her impulsive aside, he set down the book and came closer.
“Try,” he insisted. “It is best to be straightforward and speak plainly.”
