Page 52 of Obligation and Redemption
“Shall we?” He held out his arm for her to lead her to the dining-parlour.
They descended the stairs in silence. This was the first opportunity Elizabeth had taken to observe her surroundings.
She noticed that his style was elegant and refined without being ostentatious, as she would have supposed.
The furniture pieces were suitable to the fortune of their proprietor, well made but not uselessly fine.
In this Elizabeth had found something else for which to be grateful, aside from a comfortable bedchamber.
They entered the small dining room, used for family meals, and although modest in size compared to the home’s formal dining-parlour, it was still on a larger scale than where her family took meals at Longbourn.
The footman pulled the chair out for Elizabeth placing her to the right of Darcy’s seat at the head of the table.
The meal progressed with little conversation, which resulted in Elizabeth’s mind continually going to the night ahead.
Her anxieties increased with each moment, thus diminishing her appetite to the extent that made eating nearly impossible, so she pushed her food around, like she did as a child trying to get out of eating her peas.
She was startled from her musings when she heard Darcy say, “Mrs. Darcy, do you not care for pheasant?”
Embarrassed for a moment that she had been caught playing with her food, she said, “No, I do like pheasant; I just find that I am not very hungry.”
“Mrs. Williams will be disappointed. She will think that you do not care for her cooking,” Darcy returned, unsure himself if this might be the case.
He had never seen her shy away from eating like other ladies with whom he had dined.
Elizabeth looked alarmed; she had no wish to offend.
“But, truly, if you are not hungry, I would not have you push yourself. But I do not believe you ate much earlier today either. Surely, you must need some sustenance.”
“Forgive me, but I truly do not feel I can take another bite.”
“I will ask that dessert be held until later then.” Darcy nodded to the footman and sent him to relay the news to the kitchen. “Mrs. Darcy, I did not ask earlier, but were you able to rest?” Perhaps she is just tired.
“Yes, I was. The bed is very comfortable, but please, sir, will you not call me Elizabeth? ”
“If you wish when we are alone, but in public, I will use the appellation Mrs. Darcy. And what name would you prefer in addressing me?”
Elizabeth thought for a moment and said, “Mr. Darcy, I believe.”
His eyebrows shot up in question, “Yet you ask that I not call you Mrs. Darcy?”
“I have always called you Mr. Darcy and still think of you as such. Once a name gets in my head and attaches to a person, I have a difficult time making the change. But you have always referred to me as Miss Elizabeth or Miss Bennet, so surely calling me Elizabeth cannot be a burden to you.”
“As you wish.” Then there was silence as he finished his plate.
Standing, he said, “ Elizabeth , will you join me in the music room. I would like for you to play for me.” She had a wave of relief flow over her.
Although not a great musician, she felt playing for him to be familiar ground, so she readily agreed to the scheme.
They made their way towards the music room, “I will give you a tour tomorrow when it is light outside, so you are able to see the house better.”
“So far, everything I have seen is lovely.”
They continued down the corridor and entered a well-lit room that held a pianoforte and a harp in the corner.
The abundance of mirrors allowed the small amount of light to reflect giving a warm glow.
Elizabeth walked to the pianoforte and ran her fingers along the top.
“What a fine instrument you have, sir. Do you play?”
“I once took lessons to please my mother,” Darcy said, the corners of his mouth upturned. “But my sister, Georgiana, is the true musician in the family. She practises most diligently and plays remarkably well.”
“Then I fear you will be most disappointed in my performance,” Elizabeth returned with a smile.
“I have heard you play. You lack practice to be sure, but I plan to have my sister’s master provide lessons for you.
Now that you have access to a fine instrument, you can have no reason not to improve.
” He did not miss the brief flash of pique in Elizabeth’s eyes but also noted that she withheld any commentary.
“There is some sheet music that you can look through unless you have something else you might want to play.”
“Oh, how nice, you are letting me choose,” she replied saucily, which she quickly regretted.
Mr. Darcy likely did not even comprehend how his words offended.
Elizabeth looked through the music. She was familiar with a few of the songs, but not so familiar as to play them for an audience, and so she chose to perform something she knew by heart.
She began playing, and as the song continued, she closed her eyes and felt the music flow through her.
The song she had chosen had a melancholy air that reflected the sadness of her heart.
She had not decided upon that song in order to display her feelings; it was more like the song had chosen her, and she reflected the emotions therein with her playing.
She was so caught up in the music that she did not realise that tears had begun trickling down her face.
Darcy had not noticed her quiet reflections either at first, for he had leaned his head onto the back of the sofa on which he sat.
However, at a particularly lovely part of the song, he glanced towards her and saw that she was crying.
Darcy held his emotions in check and rarely showed his vulnerabilities to others; nonetheless, he did have a soft heart, the evidence of which was not often witnessed.
This had been a trying and painful day for him, which was likely why he had also gotten caught up in the mournful melody that Elizabeth had been playing.
It occurred to him that she might be experiencing some morose sentiments related to the events of the day.
She had cried silently in the carriage when pulling away from Longbourn, and there had been evidence of tears at the wedding.
But, she had chosen this path, and now she must make the best of it.
He would attempt to help her, but she must deal with her own choices.
Fitzwilliam had relayed to him after the ball a large part of the conversation that had taken place while dancing with her.
Elizabeth had said that her mother overheard her talking in her sleep and from her utterances surmised the whole scandalous tale.
What mother would purposely put her family at risk by spreading such unfounded rumours?
No, Elizabeth had to have been a part of the dissemination of the report or must have at least told her mother part of the truth, hoping for this outcome.
The song ended and Elizabeth sat there looking at the keys, wiping her tears away, chagrined that she had given in to her emotions in such a display.
She began sifting through the sheet music again, trying to provide a distraction to her musings and giving a place for her eyes to rest. Elizabeth jumped in alarm when Darcy’s hand touched her arm.
“Come, sit with me. We should talk.” Elizabeth glanced up to his eyes and looked away, ashamed of her weakness.
She allowed him to lead her to the sofa where he had been sitting.
She took her seat and placed her hands in her lap, not looking at him.
“Elizabeth, has your mother spoken to you about what to expect on the wedding night?” She turned scarlet, mortified at his implication and nodded in the affirmative. Elizabeth could not see his blushes or she may have found some irony to divert her. “Do you have any questions?”
After some moments of nervous agitation, she said, “I was hoping that… that is to say, I thought we might….” She took a deep breath and said, “Can we not wait until we have gotten to know each other better?” Elizabeth looked up to him, hopeful in his response.
He stared into her imploring eyes for a moment, and then said, “No, we cannot.”
“Why ever not?”
“Elizabeth, we are married. You are asking me to put off the inevitable.”
“I was just hoping for some time. We barely know one another, and what could it matter to wait?”
“One, the consummation of a marriage traditionally occurs on the wedding night; two, the evidence of this consummation is important to establish our innocence in the affair; and three, I want to.” She looked at him with a puzzled expression, brows knit.
“What evidence? I do not understand.”
“Your mother did not tell you?”
She blushed anew, looking away, then stood and walked to the window on the opposite side of the room.
“My mother spoke to me this morning, but I could not comprehend. She has difficulty expressing herself with clarity at times. I intended to speak with my aunt, and was on my way to do so, when you insisted we leave. So, to be perfectly clear, I do not know.” She turned, boldly looking at him in the eye as she finished her mortifying speech.
She would have seemed unaffected except for the tears that had sprung anew.