He gritted his teeth, hating how much anger his sister’s name still elicited. “She is my younger sister. She was recently married and is Mrs Wickham now.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said, looking rather startled by his obvious displeasure. He took the book from her when she offered it.
Darcy half-wished to say something more, to offer some explanation — but what? He was dangerously close to saying something he might regret. Surely it was better to say nothing than to expose feelings so dangerously raw. Elizabeth could not possibly understand.
“We should not speak of this,” Darcy blurted out, and abruptly turned to go. He caught a glimpse of Elizabeth as he strode out of the doorway. She looked hurt and confused, no doubt wondering what she had done to displease him. Yet another cause for guilt and shame, with nothing to be done to fix it.
Darcy made his way to his study, and once he had closed the door, he slammed the book down on his desk with a loud thud, almost as piercing as a gunshot. He slumped into the chair behind the desk and then, feeling that he could not bear to keep thinking at all, cradled his head in one hand.
But one could not simply stop thinking. Perhaps he should throw the book away. Darcy considered the idea only to discard it. He would regret such a hasty action later on. The book had been the first gift Georgiana had given him, purchased with her own allowance. Whatever difficulties lay between them now, it was a prize beyond measure.
What a boor he was! It was not Elizabeth’s fault that he had left it out on the side table. He had been reading it before he received the news that Georgiana and Mr Wickham had eloped. He remembered now: he had not set foot in the library since.
Darcy closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed with self-disgust. For a moment, he had been enjoying himself whole-heartedly with Elizabeth. But how could he do that, when Georgiana was married to Wickham, suffering who knew what humiliations at his hands? How could he have so blithely enjoyed himself, as though nothing were wrong at all?
Chapter 8
Elizabeth stood motionless well after Mr Darcy had hurried from the room, hurt and surprised by such an abrupt departure. At last, she regained command of her limbs and sank into a deep leather chair, telling herself not to be foolish. There ought to have been nothing to offend her in her ersatz husband simply declining to discuss something with her and taking himself from the room, but there was. For the briefest moment, it had felt as though they might be friends rather than cold acquaintances.
She ought to know better. This was a mere formal arrangement, intended to snatch some measure of respectability out of disaster. Why had she ever acted as though she thought otherwise?
Elizabeth knew well — it was in her nature to be hopeful, even when circumstances might have dictated resignation. Still, a hopeful temperament did not mean that one’s circumstances would match one’s expectations. Perhaps she had dared to hope for too much out of this abruptly arranged marriage.
Then there was the question of Georgiana Darcy, now Georgiana Wickham. There was obviously something there that Mr Darcy did not wish to discuss. He had made that clear when he snapped at her. But while he had made his wishes plain enough, and while Elizabeth could not bring herself to simply ignore them, it was impossible not to become curious. Even in an acquaintance as short as theirs, why had he not mentioned he had a sister? And why was Mr Darcy so obviously upset about her marriage?
She sat stewing for a few moments, then sighed. The mystery would have to wait for another day, for she had already decided on the business of this one. It was high time she began establishing herself as the lady of the house.
It was strange to think of herself as the mistress of Pemberley. Elizabeth had always thought she might marry a country gentleman like her father, with a modest house and perhaps some property. She had never imagined she would be the mistress of such a large estate and house. It was all very daunting.
With a small sigh, Elizabeth stood and went about roaming the shelves, choosing two books to keep her company when she went back to her room. It seemed unlikely that she and Mr Darcy would be spending any length of time together after their strange encounter. She had obviously displeased him.
After taking the books to her suite and depositing them on the bedside table, the time arranged for her meeting with Mrs Reynolds was close at hand. Nervousness fluttered in her chest as she walked the maze of halls to the east parlour, where she had arranged to begin her introduction to managing Pemberley.
When she arrived, Mrs Reynolds was waiting for her near the hearth. Though a comfortable sitting area was arranged there, Mrs Reynolds had remained standing, her back as straight as a poker. “Good afternoon, Mrs Darcy,” she said with proper deference, but without warmth.
Elizabeth steeled herself. Mrs Reynolds had apparently led the staff at Pemberley for many years. Indeed, as Pemberley had not had a mistress since Mr Darcy’s youth, she had not had to give way to another woman in over a decade. It could not be easy to give away her authority, still less to a woman so young and so abruptly married to her master.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “How do you do, Mrs Reynolds. Thank you for meeting with me,” she said as she was seated. Mrs Reynolds sat only after Elizabeth had taken her seat. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, blank-faced and saying nothing.
Though she did not feel particularly charming at the moment, Elizabeth knew the moment might be decisive. She therefore summoned up her most winning smile for Mrs Reynolds. “I will need quite a lot of help as I get used to running such a large house. Your insight and wisdom will be invaluable as I get my footing.”
“I shall be glad to assist to the best of my ability, ma’am.” She gave a respectful nod. “Shall we begin?”
Elizabeth nodded firmly. “Of course. Where shall we start?”
Mrs Reynolds hesitated a long moment. “Well, would you like to tell me how you would like the house to be run, ma’am? Perhaps any changes you wish to be made?”
Elizabeth splayed her hands. “I confess, I have no experience with running a home, Mrs Reynolds. My mother taught me how to manage the household accounts and servants, how to arrange menus and host parties. However, Pemberley is so much larger than my father’s estate. There was a certain spontaneity and informality in my childhood home.” She gave a slight shrug. “I would prefer if you would walk me through how you have run things in the past. I want to learn everything about how Pemberley works.”
“You don’t want to change how things are done?” Mrs Reynolds asked, obviously surprised.
“I see no reason to reinvent the wheel, so to speak. Pemberley seems to run smoothly, and I should not wish to change things simply for the sake of change.” Elizabeth let out a controlled breath. “First, I should like to learn everything I can about Pemberley. Doubtless I shall have some suggestions and requests one day, when I am better versed in the house and its ways. However, until that time, I should like to keep things the way they have always been run.”
Mrs Reynolds unbent enough to show a very small smile. “Well, I shall do all I can to show you how the house has been run, ma’am. I should be very glad to, in fact.”
With that, she brought out a packet of papers. They laid them out, and Mrs Reynolds began taking her through the staff, telling Elizabeth a little about each of them. Then she began taking her through the weekly deliveries the kitchen received from local shops and farms. Elizabeth listened carefully to everything that was said. Though it would be impossible to remember everything on first hearing it, she might at least hope to recall the most essential points of information.
“Then there are the suppers for the week, Mrs Darcy. Is there anything in particular you would like?”
