Page 11
Story: To Love Again
“What is troubling you, Lizzy?” Jane asked.
She scrunched up her lips and chuckled. “You will find my thought very ill-mannered indeed, but I shall tell you anyway. I am brought to wonder how a gentleman as large as Mr Darcy could find any rest at all on such a small bed.” She giggled.
“I do not know why I had such a thought. Please, forgive me, Jane. I know you alone will not fault me for such turn of thoughts.” She straightened her shoulders and looked back to her sister, trying to remove the smirk upon her lips.
“Do go on. So, tell me of your children.”
Jane told her of Henry, her oldest child at four years of age, and of David, her three-year-old son, and of Cassandra, her two-year-old daughter.
“And now you are expecting to grow your family again,” Elizabeth said with a small smile, nodding towards Jane’s protruding midsection.
Jane rested her hands upon her lap and blushed. “Yes, we are expecting another babe this year.”
She held out her hand to her sister who reached over and grasped her fingers. “Jane, I wish you all the felicity in the world with your family. It makes my heart happy to see that you are so well settled.” She yawned unexpectedly, feeling her eyes grow weary. “Oh, please do pardon me.”
Jane smiled. “I will help you back to your bed. It is time you rest, and I will talk with Mrs Reynolds about removing this cot so you can sit over beside the window and see outside.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “Perhaps, after I have rested, you could help me dress so Mr Darcy could visit?”
Jane smiled serenely as she helped Elizabeth back into the bed. “I know just the thing you should wear. Mama made sure you had a robe that would be appropriate should you need to receive visitors in your bed chamber. It will do nicely, I believe.”
Elizabeth looked askance at her sister. “Do I dare ask why Mama felt I should have the need to receive visitors in my bed chamber?” At Jane’s blush, she replied, “Never mind. I shall just trust that in time it will be revealed.”
“That might be for the best, Lizzy. You know Mama,” Jane said as she left Elizabeth to sleep.
When Elizabeth awoke again, she noticed that the small bed had been removed. How they accomplished such a feat without waking her she questioned, but Mrs Reynolds refused to give a straight answer. She suspected she had been given a drought that made her sleep very soundly.
After seeing to her needs and getting help to dress in the robe Jane had told her of earlier, she found herself sitting in a chair and waiting for Mr Darcy to arrive.
She did not know what to think of the man, but her agitation was clear and she could not keep her hands still.
A solid knock at the door brought her out of her revery and she called for the person to enter.
Mr Darcy opened the door and nodded in greeting, indicating that Jane had informed him that she wished to see him.
At her acknowledgment, he entered the room only a few steps.
“Will you not join me here?” She indicated the chair near her own flanking the fireplace.
Darcy strode stiffly to the chair and sat down. There was an awkward silence. Finally he said, “I see that you are getting much use out of that blanket.”
Elizabeth smiled and ran her hands across the soft wool. “Yes, I thank you for lending it to me. Jane said it was given to you by your mother.”
At the mention of his mother, Darcy’s shoulders relaxed and his lips raised in a small smile. “It was given to me on my last birthday before she passed. It is wool gathered from the sheep specifically bred here at Pemberley for their softness.”
She smiled as she ran her hand over the stitches.
“It is very soft. I thank you for lending it to me.” Elizabeth felt that if she were to ever understand why she had married Mr Darcy then she would have to learn more about him.
So she said, “I must admit, sir, that I do not remember much about you.”
He gave a small smile, saying, “What your sister has indicated that you do remember does not put me in the best light. Our early acquaintance was fraught with misunderstandings and prejudices. I have said it in the past, but I will say it again for your benefit here today. I truly do apologize for any discomfort you ever felt in my company.”
She studied his features, seeing clearly that he meant every word of his apology. “Perhaps we should begin again. ”
He nodded. “I would like that.”
After a minute of awkward silence, she said, “Is there something you wish to talk about?”
“Whatever you desire.”
She chuckled. “Mr Darcy, I fear that this will be a conversation without much meaning if we cannot find a topic.” She looked around. Seeing the snow that fell outside the window, she asked, “Which season is your favorite?”
“I am partial to whichever season is upon us, if I am happily ensconced within Pemberley’s borders with my loved ones.”
She chuckled. “So you do not prefer Town?”
He scowled. “I have never had much of a fondness for society as my friend Bingley or my cousin Fitz does. I much prefer the quiet solitude found in the country.”
“Have we spent much time in London?” She cocked her head inquisitively.
“We have spent several seasons there, the longest being the year my sister had her debut, three years past.”
“I have always loved visiting my aunt and uncle in London,” she looked down to her hands, rubbing the soft wool.
He nodded, “Yes, we spent much time with the Gardiners before they left for their trip.”
“Oh? I did wonder why they were not here if I had been so ill for such a length of time. However, every time I asked Jane she avoids any talk of my family.” She looked deeply at the man sitting across from her. “Will you tell me about them?”
“The doctor feels you should not put undue strain on your brain, so he has asked that we stick to discussions of the present. However, I do not think you will be unduly stressed to hear that your uncle and aunt have traveled to America and that is why they cannot be here at your bedside. Your sister Kitty has traveled with them.”
Elizabeth brought her hands up in an excited fashion, “Oh, how lovely! I do hope they are all having a wonderful time.”
“They write as often as is possible, and the subject of most of their letters is how happy they are to have had this opportunity. Kitty has found a suitor, and your uncle feels he will be approached for her hand very soon by this young gentleman.” He shifted in the chair.
“If you wish to read their letters, I can easily retrieve them for you.”
She blushed when she realized just how much Mr Darcy knew of her. Of course he did – he was her husband… even if she did not remember it herself. “I would like that,” she replied.
He stood and went over to the bed and pulled out a small trunk from underneath.
He brought it over to sit it at her feet.
When he lifted the lid to reveal stacks of letters tied with ribbons inside, he said, “The older letters are kept in the attic. I can have them brought down if you so desire. You keep only those from the last year in this box.” He gently reached for the ones from her aunt and Kitty and handed them to her before returning to his seat.
She fingered the ribbons holding both stacks, remembering aloud, “I use yellow for Kitty’s letters and pink for my aunt’s letters, as those are their favorite colors.”
He nodded, “Yes, and your mother’s you tie with a gold ribbon, Mary’s is purple, and Jane’s is blue.”
Her brow furrowed as she looked down into the box at her feet.
“I do not see any letters from my father or Lydia. I know Lydia has never favored writing, but why would I not have at least one from her? And my father… is he… is he unable to write?” Her head began to ache and she looked up at the man sitting opposite her. Tears began to form in her eyes.
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in the chair, looking deep into her eyes, before whispering, “It would not do to distress you.” He held a handkerchief out to her.
After she took it, he said, “I can have Mrs Reynolds send up your favorite blend of tea and some sweet treats – maybe a lemon tart? – while you read through your letters about their journey.”
She sighed heavily and nodded, thanking him as he stood and strode from the room.
Elizabeth tried to think of any reason as to why Papa would not have written, but she knew that only ill health would have kept him from ever writing to her.
Not wishing to think about the possibilities of why he could not write, she lifted the handkerchief Mr Darcy had given her to her eyes, drying them, then she untied the stack from Kitty and began to read through the letters.
There was not one mention of Lydia or their father.
After that, she untied the letters from her aunt, reading through them as well, and again was taken aback at not one mention of Lydia or her father.
What had happened to her family members that no one would speak of them?
As much as she wished to have the answer to that and many more questions, she felt fatigued and knew it was time to lie back down. She reached the for bell and rang it, happy when it was Jane who entered and not the maid.
“Jane,” she said when her sister had her settled in the bed, “what happened to Lydia? Why would Kitty and Aunt not write of her in all the letters they have sent from their journey to America?”
Jane looked down, but refused to answer.
“Is she… is she gone?” Elizabeth choked out. “Is Papa ill? Or is he…” she could not finish the sentence as tears once more formed in her eyes.
“I am sorry Lizzy. The doctor has said we are to stick to subjects that will not bring you grief.”
“And talk of Lydia will bring me grief?” When her sister would not answer, she reached for Jane’s hand. “Is that why you will not talk of Papa either? Is he also gone from us?”
Jane looked up, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, Lizzy, please do not ask this of me. I cannot bear to see you hurt by such news.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand. “I will not ask again,” she promised.
As Jane quit the room, she determined to ask Mr Darcy on the morrow.
She needed to know what had happened to her family in the years she did not remember.
Not knowing was causing her more distress than the thought of grieving over them if they were truly gone.
Perhaps she could convince him of this and he would tell her what had happened to Lydia and Papa.