“Of course, ma’am. I will alert Mrs Reynolds, and have a supper tray brought for you.”
Stephans saw her empty tea tray and took it up in her arms.
Guilt washed over her. Would Mr Darcy be angry that she refused to come down on their first evening home? “Wait, please. I should like to write a note,” she said and hurried over to the writing desk. Elizabeth penned a hurried note to Mr Darcy, asking him to forgive her for not coming down and explaining that she was not feeling well after the long journey north.
She folded the note and handed it to Stephans, who promised to deliver it as soon as she had taken the empty tray to the kitchen.
That evening, Elizabeth changed into her nightdress as soon as her supper tray had been delivered. She sat at her writing desk, nibbling on the delicacies the cook had prepared,while she wrote to her family. She would write two letters, Elizabeth decided. One for her parents, to be read and shared among all the family. That letter would contain all the reassuring descriptions of Pemberley and of Mr Darcy’s courtesy that she could muster. Her family must not worry over her.
Then there would be a letter for Jane alone, in which she might express something of her real feelings.
Dear Jane,
As I am sure you will learn from the rest of my letters to the others, we arrived safely and in good time. The journey was uneventful. I cannot tell you how much the books meant to me. I would have been bored to distraction without them. Mr Darcy read his newspapers the entire time, which was just as well. I was in no mood for idle chitchat after all that has happened.
Now, I will tell you things that I have left out of the other letter, as I know you will keep them in the strictest confidence. I did not want to worry any of the others. And I do not wish to worry you either, but you are the only one I can pour my heart out to.
First, I will say that Mr Darcy has been the perfect gentleman. He has treated me with nothing but respect and decency. It may not be the love match I had once hoped for, but it seems I am to at least have a life of solitude and polite deference.
Oh, how horrid and resentful that sounds! I hope I am not ungrateful. Indeed I must be, for upon seeing the extent of Mr Darcy’s property, I have been forced to realise that he could have made a far more advantageous match. If only for your sake and for the rest of our sisters, I am glad he agreed to make the sacrifice and do the honourable thing. I may not have beenable to marry for love, but I want that for you. You must make every effort to find the sort of man with whom you will find true happiness and contentment.
Mr Darcy has made every accommodation for my comfort. I even have my own lady’s maid. Stephans is her name, and she seems a sweet girl, about my age, I should think. I believe we will get on well together.
To deal with the rest of the servants may be another matter. They were surely expecting their master to bring back a more polished wife, one more accustomed to such grand estates. I must be a severe disappointment. Their discipline and respect for their master are obvious, but I do not think it will be easy to earn such respect in my own right.
Elizabeth looked at what she had written. It was well enough, surely — as honest as she could be without worrying Jane, and as reassuring as she could be without bending the truth beyond what it could bear. She finished the letter with her usual assurances of her affection and promised to write again soon to describe the house and grounds once she had a chance to explore her new home.
With a sigh, she blew out the candle, leaving the remainder of the tray untouched. She was too upset to eat much of anything that night. Not only had her system been upset by the upheaval from her home and the long journey, but her heart was sick. She missed home more than she could have known she would. She missed her sister lying in the bed next to her. They had always been so close, and when anything was bothering either of them, they would stay up late into the night with the covers over their heads, whispering to each other.
The room she had been given had seemed so cosy and welcoming during the afternoon. Now it felt too large, as if she had been left in the middle of the ocean all alone. Elizabeth had never known a time when she felt more vulnerable and exposed. She curled onto her side and brought the covers right up to her neck, leaving only a little space so she could breathe. When Stephans knocked and entered to take away the tray, she pretended to be asleep. Her lady’s maid quietly put another log on the fire, cleared the tray, and left with barely a sound.
Elizabeth turned onto her back again once she was alone. “Tomorrow, I will go out to face him,” she vowed. This one night of solitude must give her the strength she needed to face whatever would come.
After all, she could not hide forever.
Chapter 7
Darcy went down to breakfast early the next morning, wary and silently reproaching himself for being so. He hardly knew whether he more hoped or feared to find his new wife at the breakfast table. It was not entirely a propitious sign that she had refused to come down the night before. Perhaps it signified only that she was tired from the journey. That was the most promising explanation. But others came more readily to mind, first among them dislike of him coupled to an unwillingness to make the best of the situation in which they found themselves.
Taking the last steps down to the main floor, Darcy shook his head ruefully. He should not think much of it if Elizabeth did not choose to come down for breakfast. After all, his own mother had preferred to break her fast in the privacy of her own rooms and appear later in the day. Elizabeth had every right to do the same, if she wished, and perhaps most ladies of great houses followed the practice.
After composing so many excuses for hernotappearing, Darcy was taken aback upon entering the breakfast room and finding his wife already seated. She offered him a smile, a little shy and tentative, perhaps, but nonetheless welcome.
He cleared his throat and hurried to his usual place at the table. “Good morning,” Darcy said. It felt as though he ought to say more, perhaps much more, but he had not the least idea what that might be.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth replied softly.
“I trust you slept well?” Darcy asked.
“Ah — well enough,” she said, her smile turning a little forced. It had been a polite untruth, then. Elizabeth, like himself, seemed to have chosen careful civility as the best path forward. He frowned, wishing there were a way to put them on a more stable footing, to make her feel more at home.
But he had to remember that she was not a guest. She was his wife. He could only do his best to ensure she had everything she needed to begin the arduous task of folding herself into the life of Pemberley. Elizabeth might take that opportunity, or she might not. He could not make the choice for her.
A long silence ensued while the butler served his breakfast and poured him a cup of tea. He did not add anything to his tea, preferring to take it plain in the morning. His bride seemed to be the opposite, stirring a cube of sugar and a splash of cream into her tea.
He shifted in his seat and reached for the newspaper. But mid-reach, he stopped. Perhaps she would think it rude for him to read with her sitting right there.
Elizabeth seemed to sense his indecision. “Please, Mr Darcy, do not change your routine on my account.” She motioned for him to take up the paper.
