Page 24 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Darcy

15th September 1812

D arcy sat in the breakfast room, perusing the morning newspapers when the sound of approaching footsteps disturbed his thoughts. He looked up at once, anticipating Elizabeth’s arrival. It had been a fortnight since their conversation, in which he had avowed his sentiments. Though he had been somewhat disappointed by the reticence of her reply, she had given him reason to hope.

Indeed, in the days following the arrival of letters from Jane Bennet and Bingley, matters had continued to improve. They had walked together more frequently, engaged in conversation with an ease he had never before experienced, and even, on occasion, read the newspapers side by side.

He cherished her opinions, her intelligence, and her keen observations on current affairs. Indeed, he cherished everything about her. They had continued attending church together, comporting themselves as Mr and Mrs Darcy with ease. They dined as a family with her sisters—though, of late, he had noticed that Miss Mary Bennet did not join them as often. The middle sister, once eager to engage in spirited discussion, had begun to withdraw once more into quiet solitude, a melancholy shadow returning to her countenance.

Darcy had meant to broach the matter with Elizabeth, but their newfound harmony had been so pleasant that he hesitated to disrupt it. Yet, as their interactions had become more agreeable of late, he had observed something that filled him with unexpected warmth—he believed he had caught Elizabeth smiling in anticipation of his company, just as he now found himself awaiting her presence with no small measure of expectation.

However, when he looked up, he found himself momentarily disappointed, for it was not Elizabeth who entered but Mary.

Lowering The Times to the table beside his half-eaten bread roll, he offered his young sister-in-law a polite smile.

She did not return it. Instead, she inclined her head in a brief, perfunctory nod before lowering herself onto a chair.

“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” she said.

“And a good morning to you, Miss Bennet. Is today one of the days you visit the convalescent home?”

She shook her head. “No, I went yesterday.”

“A music lesson, then?” he enquired, eager to show interest in her pastimes.

However, to his mild disappointment, she shook her head once more.

“No. I informed my tutor that I no longer wished to pursue music at present. I enjoyed it, but between the convalescent home and… other matters, it is too much.”

“Other matters?” Darcy prompted, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I do thank you for arranging the lessons, but I believe I shall step away from the instrument for a time.”

Darcy frowned. This was most unusual. While Miss Bennet was by no means a prodigy, she had always shown both diligence and enjoyment in her practice. What had changed?

The more he reflected, the more he realised how greatly Miss Bennet’s demeanour had altered of late. She had withdrawn, keeping primarily to herself. It was not only that she absented herself from dinner on occasion—she no longer engaged in the lively conversations she once enjoyed with Elizabeth and Kitty. Had her enthusiasm for music simply waned? Or was it concern for her father that weighed upon her? If that were the case, Darcy was determined to alleviate such distress.

“Miss Bennet, you will be pleased to know that I have received another letter from the physician. He assures me that your father is making remarkable strides. He took several steps for the first time this past week.”

She looked up then, her lips parting slightly before she gave a small smile. “That is good news indeed, Mr Darcy. We did not think it possible. We ought to thank you for your efforts.”

“They were not solely my efforts,” he replied. “I merely provide the means, but the true labour is undertaken by your mother, your father, and, of course, the physician and nurses.”

“You are quite right,” she agreed, reaching for a roll. She cut it neatly with her knife, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the crunch of bread as she ate in silence.

Darcy observed her with growing concern. “Have you been feeling quite well, Miss Bennet?”

She lifted her gaze and shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”

“I heard from Georgiana that there was a planned trip to Sheffield. Miss Catherine will be accompanying her. Will you be joining them?”

“I should think not. I am not one for shopping excursions, Mr Darcy. You must be aware of that.”

Shopping? Darcy frowned, momentarily perplexed. Then, realisation dawned. She referred to the stipend he provided the ladies each month. It was true that she had spent far less of her allotted funds than the others, at least until recently. Over the last few weeks, however, she had spent considerably more, even requesting additional funds.

“I thought such an adventure might be entertaining,” he offered.

“I quite enjoy solitude, Mr Darcy,” she replied, spreading butter onto another roll.

Darcy hesitated. “Very well. Is there anything I can assist you with? Any interest you wish to pursue? I could make an introduction at the circulating library, if you would like.”

She shook her head and set her knife down. “You need not fret, Mr Darcy. It is as I said. I simply prefer privacy at this moment, that is all.”

He nodded, knowing that to press further might only unsettle her, and he had no desire to intrude. Instead, he picked up his newspaper once more, and they completed the remainder of breakfast in silence.

***

Later that afternoon, as Darcy strolled along the lake, he spotted Elizabeth and Kitty seated on a bench nearby.

“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth called out, a wide, warm smile gracing her features. “Will you not join us?”

He did not need to be asked twice. Quickly, he took a seat beside them.

“What a lovely day,” Elizabeth remarked. “Do you not agree? Josephine and Maxwell have returned.”

Darcy chuckled. “Indeed, they have. I saw the geese this morning as well. I already set out to feed them.”

Kitty laughed. “They will be the plumpest in all of Derbyshire at this rate. I have noticed the two of you together by the lake nearly every morning.”

Darcy caught the way she winked at her sister as she said the word together and noticed Elizabeth’s slight flush.

“I would not say every morning,” Elizabeth replied, looking away as if caught out.

Kitty turned to Darcy. “Have you seen Mary?”

“This morning at breakfast, but not since. I believe she took the carriage into town.”

“She has been quieter of late,” Elizabeth mused. “It is rather odd that she has retreated.”

Darcy leaned back, considering. “Do you think she might be homesick? Ought we consider sending her back, at least for a visit?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Mary has never shown fondness for Meryton. Indeed, she has often spoken of how uninspiring she finds it.”

“That is true,” Kitty added. “She always said she wished to live somewhere else—in Scotland, London, or somewhere with more to see and do.”

Darcy inclined his head. “Then perhaps we ought to make a greater effort to engage her. She may enjoy a change of scenery, Matlock, perhaps? Your sisters could accompany Georgiana.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, warmth in her gaze. “An excellent idea. But will they be willing to host them, so soon after Lady Catherine’s visit?”

Lady Catherine had travelled to Matlock directly from Pemberley and informed her brother of Anne’s confession. This he had learned from his uncle, who had been rather exasperated by the whole affair. He’d written to Richard and requested his presence at Matlock at his earliest convenience, something Richard intended to accomplish soon, if his own letter was anything to go by.

Darcy felt rather like a spectator to these proceedings, at once helpless to assist his cousins and glad he was no longer a central player in this particular game.

“I should think they will be happy to see Georgiana, she always brings them much joy. And what is better than one young lady? Why, three of course!” He smiled, and Kitty brightened.

“Oh, a visit to Matlock would be most agreeable! What is Lady Matlock like? Pray, tell me she bears no resemblance to Lady Catherine.”

Darcy chuckled. “Not in the slightest, Lady Matlock is a gracious hostess—you would like her.”

Elizabeth turned to him with a knowing smile. “Such a considerate proposal, Mr Darcy. Or is it that you wish for a quieter house?”

His faint smile betrayed him. “I cannot deny that the thought is appealing.”

Elizabeth’s smile deepened, amusement flickering in her eyes. The idea of having the house to themselves was indeed thrilling. And if he judged her reaction correctly, she too felt this way. And that in and of itself made the suggestion worthwhile.

“Then it is settled,” he announced then. “I will write to my uncle post haste.”

And with that, Darcy felt something settle within himself as well.