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THE FOLLIES OF LOVE

“ A fter everything she said to me in person, Fitzwilliam, it should come as no surprise that she should express herself with such vitriol now.”

Darcy stalked back and forth in front of the hearth in Netherfield’s small morning room, letter in hand. He could not look at his darling Elizabeth, lest she see the fury in his countenance.

“How dare she question my choice of wife. It is none of her concern. None at all. How dare she use such offensive language to speak of you.” His voice shook with rage before he swallowed and turned to face Elizabeth.

“I do not understand how you can remain so unaffected by her attacks upon your character and breeding.”

She sighed, making herself more comfortable on the settee as Darcy drew himself up to begin a fifth round of recriminations. “Truly, I expected nothing less. It is precisely as you anticipated, as you will recall.”

He came to a halt, running his hand through his hair until it stood on end like an agitated hedgehog, and took a deep breath. “You are right, of course. It does no good to complain of her character when she has always been thus. Never mind. We need neither see nor think of her again.”

He tossed the offending missive into the fire and watched it curl and smoke as it was reduced to ash.

“There. Let that be an end to it.” After eyeing the door to ensure it was locked, he came to sit next to Elizabeth on the settee, taking her hand and gazing into her eyes. “Let us speak of happier things.”

Elizabeth smoothed down his spiky locks with her other hand, restoring the strands to their customary stylish arrangement.

“Indeed. We have much to look forward to. Endless talk of wedding clothes, lace, ribbons, and the dishes for the breakfast. You, at least, can retreat to my father’s book-room where the two of you can read side by side in utter silence for hours, whilst I have no hope of escape from my sisters’ silliness. ”

Darcy chuckled and took her face in his hands, softly kissing her lips. Resting his forehead against hers, he sighed. “Thank you, my dear. No one knows how to soothe me as you do.”

“I should hope not.” She smiled coquettishly. “Please allow me to soothe you some more.”

Sometime later, as the pair embraced, silently gazing at the leaping flames, Elizabeth stirred. “Dearest, I hate to return to the subject of your aunt. But I often have wondered, how did she come to be?—?”

“Such a domineering, supercilious, dreadful harridan? A caricature of pride, self-importance, and obsession with her station in life?” he asked wryly, all his previous anger replaced with languor as he stroked her cheek.

“As you say.” She laughed. “I shall leave that characterisation to you. I see no need to stumble into such perilous territory.”

Darcy stilled his hand on her cheek and considered for a moment. And then another.

“As to your question, I am not entirely certain. She was the youngest child so was still in the schoolroom when my mother had her coming out and soon thereafter married my father. There was thus much concerning her about which her older sister was ignorant, occupied as she was as a wife and new mistress of Pemberley.” He shook his head, recalling his mother’s impatience with Lady Catherine’s letters once she had gained her own estate, boasting of her life at Rosings and her daughter’s singular beauty.

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, encouraging him to go on with a lift of her brows.

“I have a vague recollection of hints to the effect that she was once disappointed in love. Of course, it is hard to imagine now that she might ever have been in love with anyone other than herself and her own importance.”

“Hmm. Yes. But perhaps she was, and perhaps it changed her for the worse.”

“Yes. Disappointment in love can have both salutary and deleterious effects,” Darcy said ruefully.

“Only salutary ones in your case, my love.” She squeezed his hand. “You must know I am sorry to have been the cause of your disappointment, even for a little while.”

“No, no! Mine made me a better man. We would not be here together had it been otherwise. But it may be that my aunt’s character did not take the same turn, if she was indeed disappointed.”

“What do you know of her marriage to Sir Lewis de Bourgh?”

“Of how they came to marry? I am not sure of the details. His family was certainly respectable and ancient, if not titled. Rather like the Darcys in that regard, although for reasons never fully explained, Sir Lewis received a knighthood.” He paused, thinking of the similar honour given to Sir William Lucas, and shrugged.

“I believe it was an advantageous match for them both. They were of more or less the same station, though some two decades apart in age.”

“Not a love match, then?”

Darcy threw back his head in mirth. “Of course not. Their station did not permit it.”

Elizabeth snorted in a most unladylike fashion and swatted his hand, which was making its stealthy way towards the lace at the top of her bodice. “And yet yours does? I have been led to believe that ours is a love story for the ages.”

“That it is, sweetling.” His hand resumed its surreptitious journey.

“Oh, you incorrigible man!” She laughed, caught his hand, and kissed him.

After some time had passed, Darcy sat up, straightening his waistcoat and blinking as he came slowly back to himself.

Elizabeth was equally dazed. “Oh my,” she sighed, sticking some of her fallen hairpins back into her coiffure in a very haphazard manner. “I never knew that kissing could be so, so?—”

“No, indeed,” he breathed.

“Do you think it is so for others, or is it only for us?”

“I cannot say. I certainly cannot picture our parents or my aunt and Sir Lewis—” he said, mischief written on his face.

Elizabeth squeaked and clapped her hands to her face. “Oh, my eyes! My poor ears!” she cried, only half in jest. “And yet how sad for them, if they never experienced this kind of joy.”

“True. But I imagine my aunt and Sir Lewis never had that expectation of their marriage.”

“I know that is the case, but when you put it in so many words, it is almost tragic. And if she had once been disappointed in love, even more so. I cannot like it, but I do understand why she is provoked by our felicity.” She stroked his brow, looking a bit melancholy.

“Is it any wonder she might become bitter, once denied her own chance for happiness?”

“I suppose,” Darcy conceded. “But that does not explain her penchant for criticising all and sundry, ordering people about willy-nilly, declaring she would be the most proficient in all skills if only she had learnt, and insisting she is the foremost expert in the arrangement of household goods.”

“No, it does not.” Elizabeth pondered the subject further. “Do you suppose she was always thus?”

“I could not say, though I could scarcely imagine a girl of ten or twelve speaking or behaving as she does.” He grinned as Elizabeth dissolved into peals of laughter.

“‘Mama, this hair ribbon you have bestowed upon me brings dishonour to our family. Are the shades of Matlock to be so polluted?’” he piped, mimicking the voice of a young girl.

“‘Papa, the ducks in the pond are showing an unseemly amount of leg. You must make them wear trousers at once.’” To Elizabeth’s giggles, he stamped his foot.

“‘I will not learn my numbers, but if I chose to, I would become the world’s foremost mathematician.’”

“Oh, that is terrifying indeed,” she gasped, laughing. “However unlikely it may be. What manner of man was Sir Lewis? Could he have influenced her in such a way?”

Darcy shrugged. “My uncle died when I was still at school, so my memories of him are no doubt coloured by my youth. I do recall that he was rather full of his own consequence. It is possible the deficiencies of his character might have brought out the worst in hers.”

“And do not forget her being disappointed in love.”

“That is mere speculation, Elizabeth.”

“She is disappointed in our love.”

Darcy frowned, uncaring of whatever heartache his aunt had faced. Elizabeth was his heart, and Lady Catherine had badly misjudged her worth. “She is a fool.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth conceded. “But you must learn to better embrace others’ foibles, my love. Every person is made ridiculous by them, as I have all too often pointed out, and yet is also made both more human and more admirable by them.”

“As you have said many times. I still maintain that those follies must be constrained by propriety and duty, and guided by responsibility,” he said a bit stiffly before standing and going to poke the fire, where the flames that earlier consumed his aunt’s letter had turned to embers.

“Yes, yes, as you have said often,” she echoed archly. “And indeed you will have many opportunities to take a closer look at my follies and foibles after our wedding in only three days’ time.”

Darcy gave Elizabeth a sharp look that softened as understanding struck and a shy smile bloomed on her lips. “You have no foibles, dearest.”