Page 25 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BEYOND THE BOUNDS
E lizabeth was learning the routines of the household; quickly she knew all of the servants by name along with their respective duties, had studied the account books and found them to be in good order, planned menus with Mrs Miles, and spent a great deal of time helping the children to settle—despite Mrs Tilson’s presence, so many changes in such a short time had caused some upset.
Mr Darcy was not precisely an attentive husband, although he certainly did not ignore her—indeed, at breakfast and dinner, he was very conversational, if quite occupied elsewhere the rest of the time.
He gave her reports of his day when asked, and the myriad of his business interests amazed her; Papa, for all that he was on excellent terms with her uncle Gardiner, had a personal disgust of trade.
Lydia’s ambitions had enlarged Elizabeth’s own point of view, but to see a wealthy, landed gentleman who embraced a working schedule was unusual indeed.
How marvellous, to be able to rely upon something besides the farms and dependence upon the weather!
She could discuss her sister’s business with Mr Darcy and hear none of the judgment and disapproval her papa had regularly pronounced.
She enjoyed these meals beyond what she ever could have imagined; she did not know what was next for them, or how to go from a ‘convenient’ marriage to an actual one, or even whether she wanted to…
yet. But she was beginning to want something more.
He offered her an outing to the theatre; she hesitated to leave Cassandra and Tommy alone for an entire evening so soon, and expressed a polite refusal.
Afterwards, she thought he might have been disappointed; something in his expression had changed.
Later that same evening, she decided that she had made a mistake in rejecting his kind offer but could not find an opening to bring up the subject again.
He had not repeated it since, or anything like it.
Did he wait for her to indicate a desire to take in entertainments with him?
Did she desire to go? Was he wishful of greater closeness? Was she?
Finally, she gathered the courage to consider asking him for something risky, if not intimate.
Plainly, he did not hold the fact of her family relationships against her; he knew of her uncle in Cheapside—he always had.
He had not offered verbal denunciation of them, not to the earl, not later when speaking on the subject privately.
In fact, he had expressed sorrow for his former denigration of her Cheapside connexions.
None of that meant, however, that he would approve or acknowledge a continued association.
After all, her uncle Gardiner had, years before, written to Mr Darcy on Charlotte’s behalf.
Uncle Gardiner said he did not believe, truly, that his letter had much to do with the resolution of Charlotte’s situation.
“He paid so quickly and so well, it seemed clear to me he was prepared to do something for the girl regardless. He was probably awaiting her family’s demands,” had been Mr Gardiner’s considered opinion at the time.
“Miss Lucas misunderstood, most likely because he refused marriage as a possibility and handed over a paltry sum—probably whatever he had on him at the moment—that it did not mean he would not pay more.”
When Elizabeth had recently written to advise her aunt and uncle Gardiner of her wedding plans, she had received from them a hesitantly congratulatory reply.
Due to her uncle’s business obligations, they had been unable to come to her, or attend the ceremony.
She wanted them to see Mr Darcy in a different light, as she was coming to.
Yes, he had once done this awful thing; it did not mean he must remain an awful person forever. Did it?
As Mr Darcy breakfasted with her, enquiring about her plans, urging her to shop, refurbish, add to her wardrobe, and otherwise spend his money, she mentally planned her approach.
Most of their conversations, thus far, had been with servants present; she would have preferred to have the next one without any such witnesses, but never had a man made himself so scarce during the day as her new husband.
Judging by how he had handled her previous mention of her relations, she felt she had no reason to be nervous, but she felt a frisson of unease regardless.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Actually, I do have a visit I would like to make today. As of course you know, my aunt and uncle Gardiner live in town. On Gracechurch Street. I would like to maintain the connexion, and visit them.”
Immediately he stiffened—she saw it. Disappointment filled her.
“I am not asking, much less insisting, that you visit with me,” she continued doggedly. “I would like it if you would, but if you prefer not, it is entirely up to you.”
“I have no objections to your visits,” he replied after a long moment. His voice was wooden. “I suppose that some part of me expected this request. I hope you will not be insulted—it is not my intention to cause offence—if I do not participate, either in this visit, or any future one.”
“I understand,” she lied. His response was so far beneath her expectations, from the kindness and generosity he had thus far displayed, that in reality she was reeling from it. “You will permit me to bring the children?”
Another lengthy moment passed; she saw the truth in his expression—he dearly wished to deny her. But after contemplating another second, he nodded. “I trust your judgment. If you find it an appropriate connexion, I will agree to it.”
It was all she could do to nod, to stare blankly at her plate instead of gawping at him. This was the man who had calmed and practically befriended a violent man on the streets of London? The man who had defended her family from an earl’s contempt?
“If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with my solicitors this morning, and would like to visit with the children before I go.” He stood, bowed.
Again, she nodded.
After he was gone, she found she had no appetite for her breakfast. She could not think what to do, how to cope with her feelings of utter rejection.
Perhaps she had not expected Mr Darcy to treat her uncle as family—to feel as she did towards them.
But she truly had believed he would at least be polite, that he would join her and the children in a visit.
He had met them at the Bingleys’ wedding, as she recalled, but perhaps he no longer remembered them.
Had he only agreed to join her today, he would see for himself that they were people of whom she could never be ashamed—respectable, well bred, and gracious.
He had refused outright to even consider it.
Did he associate her uncle with his own sins of the past?
It was an ice-cold reminder that he was a stranger to her, and he had just set a boundary that might keep them strangers forever; if he had searched for a way to keep her at arm’s length, to never truly know her, he could not have succeeded more fully.
If he resented her uncle, after all this time, for a single letter insisting he pay for his own child and the woman’s life he had ruined, he was not a man she could respect.
No matter how she had justified her decision to marry him regardless, the memory of his debauchery sat like a viper, waiting to strike every time she let down her guard towards him.