Page 16 of Mistress of Pemberley

“Miss Bennet has arrived, my dear,” Georgiana said. Elizabeth entered the room, her heart pounding wildly, almost leaping from her chest. No effort she made could render her calm, yet she hoped her face betrayed nothing.

“Miss Bennet, welcome. Thank you for coming,” Darcy said as Elizabeth approached him. Propped up against several large pillows, he seemed almost the man she remembered, looking and behaving exactly how Georgiana and the physician had described.

“Mr Darcy!” she responded, attempting to smile, though she was certain her face conveyed only concern.

At their entrance, his valet rose and retreated silently after Darcy introduced him to Elizabeth.

At last, they faced one another, yet how different this meeting was from all the others. Although tragedy and pain lingered between them, they seemed eager to meet, as though they had always been friends. That was how Elizabeth felt; on his face, she could discern a faint smile drowned in relief—mainly because of her arrival.

“Forgive my unshaven face, but these oppressors surrounding me have refused to shave me—”

“Do not expect me to take your side,” Elizabeth interjected with sudden inspiration, precisely striking the tone Darcy needed after days spent among suppressed tears and solemn faces.

He smiled faintly, a smile unlike any she had seen before, and said, “Thank you for coming,” again, this time in a tone had nothing formal in it, only his contentment at her arrival.

“We can talk in the morning.” Elizabeth attempted to postpone the conversation, not for her own peace of mind but because she feared he was too tired.

“My dear Miss Bennet, we must speak tonight—now,” he said.

Elizabeth inclined her head slightly, acquiescing to his words, and seated herself in the armchair near his bed, which he had indicated with a slight gesture.

“Georgiana, please leave us,” Darcy continued.

“No, please, no!” his sister implored, but he gave only a tiny nod, and she withdrew. A wave of pain washed over Elizabeth’s heart as she imagined how difficult it must be for Georgiana to leave him.

“Thank you for coming,” he said again.

“You have already said that…twice,” Elizabeth replied, suddenly deciding to speak to him as though this were a typical visit and he was in full health. She understood how difficult it must be for him to endure his present state.

“Then thank you for treating me as if nothing is amiss.”

“For that, you may indeed thank me, for it is extraordinarily difficult to do,” she said. He smiled once more, and as she gazed at him intently, she thought that the beard suited him. He did not look like an unkempt invalid but rather an eccentric gentleman.

“How do I look?” he asked, adopting the same casual tone that suited him so well. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine they would have a typical conversation like so many in the past. Perhaps his voice was less intense, but only because he did not want to make too great an effort to speak.

“Acceptable,” she replied, blushing because she felt as though he had read her expression.

“I wish us to keep clear heads and see things as they are, not as we might wish them to be,” he said, abruptly steering the conversation towards the matter he longed to discuss with her.

Elizabeth breathed deeply as she looked at him. She had not lied—her composure was painful to maintain.

“Miss Bennet—” he began, then, gazing at her, corrected himself. “Elizabeth,” he said, for that was her name, the name he had long wished to use and which he could now finally utter. But in doing so, he gave her the first hint of the direction their conversation was taking. Although she could not yet guess in detail what he wished to ask, she realised he wanted her to remain with him until the end. And that end suddenly became a terrifying reality, and she struggled to hold back her tears.

“You are not going to cry, are you?” he asked with great affection and a hint of firmness, for there was no time for tears.

“No, Fitzwilliam,” she replied. “But I may shed a few tears without my knowledge.”

“You are beautiful regardless,” he murmured. Both of them knew that the words he had spoken at the Meryton assembly were untrue—even then, they had been the reverse of the pleasure he had felt when he first beheld her.

With her dark hair tied in a ribbon of bright red and her pale face glowing in the intense light of his room, she seemed like a fairy descended to delight his eyes and heart. Yet his heart was now in peril, and there was no time to tell her how deeply he loved her—except through his gaze.

“You wonder why I summoned you. Perhaps you thought my family was large enough to have others to call upon in such a moment. Perhaps that is so, but you are precisely the person Georgiana and I need now. Even though you refused to be my wife when I asked, I showed how deeply I love you and how much I trusted you to offer you my life.”

“I understand why you have called me ,” she said, for that was precisely what she had imagined, though she still did not know what he expected of her.

“You wonder what I expect from you,” he said, and Elizabeth had the peculiar sensation that he could read her mind from where he hovered between worlds. A chill of fear coursed through her, for everything she had ever felt for him no longer held; all the resentment, the anger, the frustrations had been replaced by a singular desire to do anything for him.

“I do not see what you want me to do for you.”

Darcy nodded slightly. “I have given much thought to what I should say to you, and it all rests upon a conversation we have had in various forms nearly every time we have spoken earnestly—your desire to live your life differently from what is imposed upon a woman in our society. Freely, without constraints, even working to secure your daily bread. Is that true?”

“Of course it is true,” she replied, momentarily forgetting the gravity of their situation, dreaming instead of being in the library at Netherfield or at one of Lady Catherine’s dinners, where he had shown himself in agreement with her ideas.

“Elizabeth, it is precisely what I am proposing to you. To become an independent woman, free, with a comfortable income that will allow you to live a good life and have the time to build it as you see fit, unbound by material considerations.”

“How?” she whispered, looking into his eyes—for the first time since she had arrived. His eyes were green; she was not certain she had known that before. His gaze held her captive in a state impossible to understand, yet not for a moment did she wish to flee that room.

“Elizabeth, I have never been a man to shirk obstacles. This, however, is the greatest of them all—to set things in an order that will continue to work when…I am no longer here.”

Unintentionally, Elizabeth let out a sigh, but she knew that was not the way. She had to be strong; Elizabeth Bennet—slightly sarcastic and suspicious but altruistic and devoted to the very core of her heart.

“I am listening,” she said in a tone that reflected her resolve, and he inclined his head in gratitude.

“This house and the estate at Pemberley require a firm hand to oversee them. Georgiana needs an adult by her side until she marries, someone to guide her and ensure she does not fall prey to fortune hunters—”

“And you thought that I could be that person?” she asked in astonishment, though in truth less than might have been expected, for she had already sensed, somewhere deep within, that he would ask this of her.

“Yes, you are the only soul in this world free to assume such a role in whom I have boundless trust.”

“Thank you,” she said, clearly moved by his words. “And what would you have me be? A housekeeper?” she asked without a trace of sarcasm, quickly reflecting on whether she was prepared to say yes. But Darcy laughed softly, looking at her.

“Elizabeth, you are exceedingly na?ve at times. Firstly, we have the most capable housekeepers both here and at Pemberley. Secondly, how could a housekeeper accomplish something so intricate…and enduring?”

“So you wish to hire me for a role greater than a housekeeper?” She looked at him questioningly, for she could not imagine what other position she might hold. Perhaps Georgiana’s companion was a possibility, but how could someone employed to care for his sister also manage his estate or fortune?

“No, Elizabeth, I would never presume to ask you to join the servants of this house or Pemberley. Any such position would be unworthy of you. You were born to give orders, not to take them,” he said, laughing softly as he gazed at her, remembering a conversation they had had while dancing. But that was another life, one he tried to forget.

“What then? What remains?” Elizabeth asked, still not understanding his thoughts.

“To marry me.”

“Darcy!” she called out with force but stopped, instantly horrified at her violent tone.

“Did the physician tell you not to shout at me?” he asked, amused at her terror.

“He did,” Elizabeth admitted guiltily, though she felt strangely calmer, either because he had withstood her outburst or perhaps because he had proposed to her.

“I prefer you to call me Fitzwilliam,” he continued. His eyes burned into her, but tearing hers away from his was impossible.

“Well, Miss Bennet? Did you understand my request?”

“I understood,” she said, feeling the blush spreading across her face and down her neck and perhaps into her hands; her whole body felt as if it was consumed by a fever. “You have a rather unconventional way of making marriage proposals,” she finally said, as though he were healthy and their lives lay ahead with many years to share. And he sensed and deeply appreciated that space of ordinariness she was offering them… him. For a moment, they were a man and a woman beyond the tragic situation they found themselves in, standing aside from the tragedy they were living through.

“Circumstances pushed me to act on both occasions. The first time, I was impaired by my prejudice—now, by a wretched bullet.”

She said nothing because there was no reply to such a sad statement.

“Elizabeth, the first time I asked you to marry me, I wanted you as my wife with all that encompassed. Now…as you might have guessed, it is more of a…position of employment.”

“Darcy!” she exclaimed, but her tone was far warmer.

“Fitzwilliam, please.”

“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth agreed and continued. “How can you say something so…strange?”

“Because I have decided we shall not lie. We shall look at things as they are. And, most importantly, because in this world, I have only two people I wish to ensure are safe—Georgiana and you.”

“Very well, but I—”

“You are the love of my life, and I truly cannot imagine how any other woman could claim that title. After you, there will be no one else—you may be certain of it.”

“Fitzwilliam!”

“Yes, Elizabeth, will you be my wife and then my widow?” he asked, and for the first time since entering that room, she heard sadness in his voice. And perhaps a touch of fear. For, in the end, it was natural. He could not be in that situation and feel at peace. “I am afraid of death, but I regret leaving you behind even more,” he said without looking at her. But it was a declaration that had to be made. She saw in the calm that he surrounded himself with not a mask meant to hide anything from her—not fear of death nor the regret of leaving life so young—but instead armour to protect him from emotions and feelings that might divert him from his path. And that path, as he had said, had a single purpose: to ensure his sister and she would be safe, no matter what befell him. There was no time for hesitation, and the same resolve enveloped her.

“What do you want me to do, then. If it is a position of employment, I must know my duties.”

He did not hesitate when he answered, proving it was a decision upon which he had reflected. “Everything that I did until a few days ago. Both houses need to run smoothly, and I do not mean the housework but paying the servants, hiring new ones, supervising the expenses, overseeing repairs when needed…everything that a household may need. In addition, Pemberley must continue to provide the income it always has done, and again, you will face important decisions such as selling the crops, not only supervising their production. Then, most importantly, Georgiana, who must have an adult figure to follow until she marries—”

“Yes,” Elizabeth interrupted him.

“Yes?” he asked, uncertain of her meaning.

“Yes, I will marry you—”

“Despite our past fights?” he asked, full of hope.

“The past no longer exists. We were two beautiful but immature fools. Now, we are two adults who define this relationship in this unique way and both agree on it.”

Elizabeth spoke with a passion born of pure conviction. It was what she had always desired, precisely as he had said—a future not bound by obligation, unlike Charlotte’s, marrying the first man who came along just to have her own home and a quiet life. Charlotte’s life might be free of material struggles, but it was undoubtedly not happy. As she had once said, ‘There are moments when I am content’, but for Elizabeth, such a life would never suffice.

“Thank you,” he said, though without looking at her. He wanted to give her time to reflect on what she had committed to doing, even if only briefly.

“Your room is beautiful,” Elizabeth said, letting her gaze linger on the elegant, dark-wood furniture. The curtains had been drawn back, and evening shadows were already visible through the tall windows. She had lost track of time, for it seemed as though she had always been there with him, his future wife.

She looked about the room and blushed. She was, after all, in his bedroom. Although she had said yes to his marriage proposal, no lady ever found herself in her betrothed’s bedchamber before marriage.

“Your room is beautiful too. It is next to mine. Would you like to see it?” he offered, but she shook her head, returning to the present where there was no time to waste. There was so much to do, and she still knew so little. Only that he wanted to marry her and, in doing so, secure her future. He had indeed thought about what he could do for her beyond what she could do for him and Georgiana.

“How shall we marry?” she asked, indicating that she was ready to embark on this adventure and expected him to guide her. Any shadow of pride or prejudice was forever buried in a past that neither cared to remember.

Darcy glanced at the clock on the wall above the fireplace. “In half an hour, my uncle, Lord Matlock, and my godfather, the Duke of Nantwich, will be here to find out what we have decided and resolve how they can help me…how they can help us.”

“You were certain I would accept…everything you proposed,” she said, amused, marvelling at how much she had changed. She would never have allowed anyone to determine her future before, yet everything he proposed aligned with what she had hopelessly dreamt of—except for his departure, which she now did not know how to endure.

“I was sure you were as I had discovered you to be all this time, but I did not know how much you…hated me,” he said.

“My God, I never hated you. I said we should forget everything. We do not have time for such matters. There is only one thing I want.”

“Anything,” he said simply.

“My family will never come here, except for my aunt Mrs Gardiner, who will come tomorrow so I may explain the situation.”

“Elizabeth—” he tried to speak.

“Please, let me finish. This is not the moment to discuss my family. There is only one person about whom I wish you to change your opinion, here and now, trusting solely in my word—Jane. Never have you been so mistaken as in her case. In everything you have said about us, there may be a greater or lesser degree of truth, but Jane is exactly like Georgiana—”

“I believe you,” he said with the utmost seriousness, looking into her eyes.

“I shall ring to see if your guests…our guests have arrived,” she said.

He thanked her with a smile while saying, “They have not arrived yet. They will be brought directly here. We still have time to talk. I have not told you anything about my plans. After my uncle and godfather have been, our solicitors will come to draft my will, which I shall sign after we are married. You must know what it will contain.”

But Elizabeth dismissed his words with a gesture. “I am certain you have thought of every detail.”

“Perhaps you wish to negotiate…”

“I would have done anything for either of you without asking for anything in return.”

“And I was determined to lay everything at your feet in Kent. Now, that is no longer possible, but I want to be certain that your life will be as you have dreamt.”

As she looked at him, her heart tightened painfully. A troubling thought that was impossible to stop invaded her mind: if she had accepted his proposal in Kent, perhaps he would not be in this situation.

“Do not be foolish, Elizabeth Bennet, soon to be Elizabeth Darcy. These games of ‘what might have been’ are pointless.”

But at once, another thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, jolting her from that relative composure she had managed to gain.

“Wait, we cannot marry. I have not yet reached the proper age—”

But Darcy silenced her with a gesture and a smile. “I have written to your father, requesting your hand. You will explain the situation to him, and he will find a solution together with my uncle.”

“You have written a letter?” she asked, her surprise evident, anxious and slightly indignant that he would take such a risk.

“I dictated it. Do not scold me.”

“I am not scolding you,” she said with a sweetness he did not know she possessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am merely concerned about you moving despite the physician's orders.”

“But you are,” he replied. “Not only because you believe I would have written the letter myself but also because I sent it before knowing your answer.”

“Because you are arrogant—”

“Because I am a man who dared to hope you would say yes.”

And suddenly, she was utterly confident that she had made the right decision by saying yes to this man who could see into her soul and read her thoughts. She did not love him with that feeling she had always imagined, yet something she had never felt engulfed her soul, making her wonder how many kinds of love existed in the world.

“One more word before they arrive. I lied a little to my family… I did not tell them the whole truth about what happened in Kent,” he said hesitantly, and it was her turn to understand instantly.

“You scoundrel! You told them I accepted you. But then, why did you wait for me to come and only afterwards ask them to make the wedding arrangements?”

“Given what happened—”

“In your imaginary story.” Elizabeth smiled.

“Yes, in my story, I wanted to leave the choice to you—whether you still want to be my wife.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Elizabeth staring at him with wide eyes, genuinely astonished. “And if I had not come?”

“Then my family would have had to assist me with everything that needed to be done.”

“And would that not have been better, simpler?”

But the answer never came, as voices could now be heard from the stairs—the earl and the duke had arrived ready to make the arrangements for their wedding.