“She has been spoiled here. She needs to learn to stand on her own feet. Perhaps not literally, but certainly in a way that you seem disinclined to allow. I refuse to let her hide and make excuses when she should be bettering herself. No, she shall come home with me and stay until Christmas. Anne will be good company for her, and shall not allow her to wallow. There is a difference between accepting our new limitations and allowing ourselves to rot. Georgiana must begin anew - and I shall help her. Goodness knows I have done little enough for her so far.”
Elizabeth was exasperated, “You cannot simply decide these things for her, Lady Catherine!”
“Oh, I did not. I asked her last night. Georgiana, dear, please stop this ridiculous sulking and explain to your brother’s wife that she has once again misjudged the situation.”
“Y…yes.” Georgiana said quietly. “I… want… to go.”
Darcy frowned, “The journey may be too taxing for you. Are you ready to leave home, my love?”
The young girl smiled at him. There was no fear there, as there had been the day her brother had carried her out of sight of the house. There was a new determination which glowed from her eyes like a candle.
“But!” Georgiana announced with a shaking grin, “Iwill…go to… wedding.”
“Hmm.” Lady Catherine looked down her nose at her niece, scowling, and then surrendered with a rueful shrug, “We shall see.”
The bags were packed that afternoon. At sunset, Elizabeth sat beside Georgiana in her bedroom, holding her hand as she always had. Now, Georgiana could move it with barely a tremor. She nestled against Elizabeth’s shoulder and smiled. Then, with a sharp inhalation, she pushed herself upright. Shuddering with effort, smiling into Elizabeth’s amazed eyes, she raised her hand and slowly, carefully, caught the lowest string of the harp.
It rang out, untuned and resonant, filling the room with music and banishing the crushing silence forever.
“Oh, my love,” Elizabeth breathed, kissing the girl’s still-outstretched hand, “I shall miss you.”
“Me too.” Georgiana smiled and settled back against her, “I… always… wanted… a sister.”
Chapter 83
In October, the Darcys deliberately stretched out their journey from Pemberley to Meryton, turning it into an extended tour of the counties.
In a way, it was a second honeymoon for them. Once again, they were travelling together, but now they were far from shy, awkward strangers. Before, they could barely make eye contact over a dinner table. They had spent their days walking about in dreary country lanes so as not to be too alone. Now, they spent far more time enjoying their comfortable beds than they did walking.
The long hours when they were close together in the carriage were a kind of torture. To be able to see each other, to talk and tease but not truly touch, became a game that they defied the other to lose. Generally, by the time the carriage stopped at whatever destination they obliviously reached, Elizabeth and Darcy were too distracted to do much more than climb the stairs to their rooms.
Once, after a particularly sour storm had turned the roads into a quagmire, the carriage had struck an unearthed root and one of the wheels had broken. While they waited for a rented carriageto come and collect them, the passengers drew the curtains and let the rain drown them out.
The nameless promise which they had made to each other during their visit to Chesterfield was enthusiastically realised, if in a very undignified manner. By the time they were finished, collapsing ridiculously upon the narrow leather seats, Elizabeth’s throat was hoarse from choking back her cries of pleasure and laughter.
In foolishness and in passion, in teasing and in silence, the lazy month Darcy and Elizabeth spent travelling was filled with simple happiness.
As they drew closer to her hometown, Elizabeth came to two realisations.
The first, whispering in her heart but not daring to cross her lips, was that her husband’s diligent attentions had given her far more than trembling knees. Her courses had stopped and her body felt strangely loose. Her mind had an airy, gentle feeling that was utterly unlike the mischievous spirit that usually burned within her.
Did Darcy know? Surely, he could count. His methodical nature even made it possible that he had knownfirst.But if he had guessed, he had not spoken of it. He seemed content to let Elizabeth tell him, when she was ready.
Lizzie was touched by that. While the secret was hers, she felt as if the tiny life inside her was utterly her own: a flickering golden flame which she could love with all of her soul. Everything else could fade. Without words, withoutquestions,she could close her eyes and be complete.
In the early hours of the morning, when the world was blue and dreaming, she could press her hand to her belly andfeel,not think. True, unspoiled love for a tiny, perfect soul. Elizabeth could feel the future beneath her hand, and she was filled with hope.
Darcy, she suspected, was still thinking of the past.
That was Elizabeth’s second realisation. It tolled a sour discord against her lyrical hopes. The closer they got to Meryton, the more closed-off her husband became. It was laughably familiar; nothing reminded her more clearly of her first honeymoon than his sullen silences and fiery outbursts.
She supposed she should feel fortunate, for this time they were not directed at her. She did not. Elizabeth kept several shillings in her reticule to tip the poor servants who were the targets of her husband’s temper. Their sins were always trivial. One had fumbled a spoon when serving dinner, for example, and another had a jovial manner which Darcy considered insolent.
When they were sent from the room with ringing ears, Elizabeth followed them. She made no secret of the fact that she was paying them. She had a particularly reproachful expression which she directed towards her husband every time it was necessary.
After a particularly vicious morning, where Darcy snapped at a maid who opened the curtains but neglected to bring a pot of tea, Elizabeth finally lost her temper.
“Do you know how ridiculous you sound? That poor girl was shaking a leaf! And why? Because we could not wait for a few miserable minutes for our tea? You shouted at her fornothing.”
