Elizabeth watched her husband as they drove home much later in the afternoon than either of them had anticipated. He seemed to sense her eyes on him and turned his attention toward her.
“How did you know that the Stephans family needed help?” Mr Darcy asked her at last.
She smiled a little sheepishly. “Do not be angry. I was exploring the house and found one of the maids crying, Miss Eva Stephans. She is the middle child, I presume. She told me about her father, and I thought this might be the best way to get them some help, without wholly disregarding her confidence.”
She held her breath as she waited for him to reply. His face softened, and his eyes shone with an appreciation that she had not seen in him before. Dare she say he admired her for what she had done that day? “That was very good of you to gain her confidence. Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said. He paused, never once taking his eyes from hers. “I can see you are possessed of a great deal of good sense. That will serve you well here at Pemberley. And I dare say, it will serve the families of our community as well.”
“I only did what anyone else would have in the situation. We must look after our neighbours, do not you think?”
He smiled. “Indeed, I do,” he agreed. “Well done, my lady wife.”
Elizabeth blushed under his praise, her heart feeling more at ease that it had in some time. The Stephans would be free from their terrible fear and need, Eva had learned that she could trust in her mistress, and Elizabeth herself had learned something of equal importance — that, at least in this, she could trust in Mr Darcy.
Chapter 11
Though a blustery autumn storm raged outside, Pemberley remained as comfortable and orderly as ever. Glancing over at his wife, Darcy felt a smile curve his lips unbidden. This unintended marriage, which had once seemed so disastrous, had already shown him more cause for optimism than he could have hoped. Taking Elizabeth on her bridal visits had shown him that. Each time they went out, Darcy was never disappointed. She had a uniquely charming way about her, never failing to put people at ease and make even the most hardened hearts warm to her.
Indeed, she was considerably better at winning over strangers than he was. Darcy had the advantage of having known many of Pemberley’s tenants all his life, of recalling the days when a farm or cottage had been held by the previous generation. Elizabeth was a newcomer and might have been viewed with some caution, had her charm not outweighed all hesitations. He recalled with some humour how she had won over Mr Abernathy, the grumpy old widower who had been infamous for his bad moods. Not five minutes after meeting thegentlemen, her good-spirited jests had drawn a reluctant smile from him.
Now, sitting with his wife in the parlour, he could not help but admire her. His part of their marriage bargain had turned out better than he could have hoped. True, he had intended to marry a woman of wealth and consequence, but what of it? Pemberley and the Darcy name had as much of each as he could require. Elizabeth had a lovely face and a still lovelier spirit, qualities in a wife that were considerably more important to his daily happiness.
Howshemight view the marriage bargain remained an open question. Once, Darcy would have casually assumed it must be little short of a triumph for her. What young woman would not wish to marry Pemberley and ten thousand pounds a year, particularly when she had no dowry to speak of and few prospects?
Elizabeth would not, for she had wished above all things to marry for love. And that, however trusting and friendly their marriage might come to be, had been denied her. Their partnership might be rich in respect and free from contention, but it was founded in necessity, not romance.
At that thought, even Darcy’s satisfaction sent a thread of guilt through his belly.
Darcy tried to push away his gloomy thoughts, for they did not seem likely to produce anything productive. He sipped his tea while he read the newspaper. Elizabeth sat on the opposite side of the sitting area, reading a book.
The scene of domestic tranquillity was abruptly broken by the entrance of a footman, his expression harried and alarmed.
“Forgive the intrusion, Mr Darcy. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has arrived, along with —”
Before he could finish, Lady Catherine entered the room with a swirl of skirts and an air of condescension that Darcy felt to be the unique mark of his mother’s oldest sister. She looked down her nose at him.
“And Lady Anne de Bourgh,” the footman finished dully.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, rising from his chair and hoping his stunned displeasure was not visible on his face. “Welcome, Aunt. I did not know you were coming.”
He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Yes, I know. If you had known, you might have run away to London rather than receive your own aunt and cousin.” She waved her daughter forward. “Stand up straight, Anne,” she scolded.
Lady Catherine eyed Elizabeth derisively. Well-mannered as always, she had risen from her seat and was looking curiously at the interlopers, waiting to be introduced and make her bows.
“Allow me to present my new wife to you, Lady Catherine,” Darcy began. “This is Elizabeth Darcy, formerly Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, allow me to present my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. This is my cousin, Lady Anne de Bourgh.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth replied at once with a graceful bow. “How delightful to meet more of my husband’s family.”
“How delightful it is remains to be seen,” Lady Catherine answered coldly, while Anne said nothing at all.
Darcy inwardly cringed. His aunt was not unpredictable, in that she could always be counted upon to make everyone around her profoundly uncomfortable.
“You have not brought Mrs Jennings with you, cousin?” Darcy asked Anne. Her companion was normally by her side at all times, seeing to it that Anne never lacked for a warm shawl or a handkerchief.
Anne shook her head and seemed about to answer, but Lady Catherine spoke first. “Mrs Jennings had taken a visit to her sister’s family when I learned of your marriage. We could not wait for her to return.”
“Could you not?” Darcy asked, a little ironically. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Catherine?” The question must be asked, though he suspected the answer was not one he would welcome.
