Estranged, page 5
She had never expected such consideration on his part, and it made her heart swell with happiness. Continuing to take in the room, she felt Darcy’s eyes on her. She turned to him, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw the longing in his gaze. The library was forgotten as he stepped closer to her, his hand slipping around her waist once more.
“I cannot resist you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers.
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his hands wander down her body, caressing her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. She melted against him, eagerly responding to his touch.
The heat between them was palpable as they kissed, their passion igniting like never before. Darcy’s hands continued to roam over her body until he found the laces at the back of her dress. With a touch both gentle and deliberate, he loosened the fabric, and it fell away, laying bare her magnificence. His eyes, filled with a hungry intensity, captured the unadorned beauty before him.
Elizabeth shivered as his hands trailed over her exposed flesh, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She moaned softly as he lifted her up, carrying her to a nearby chaise lounge where he laid her down gently.
The room was filled with soft murmurs as they made love, lost in their desire for one another. Elizabeth had never felt so alive, so adored, as she did in that moment with her husband.
As they lay together, breathless, Elizabeth wondered if she would ever tire of Mr. Darcy’s touch. Was she falling in love with him, or were the feelings building inside her merely the product of unbridled passions and desire? It was too soon to say.
But as she felt his breath on her skin, she knew that the emotions she was feeling were unlike anything she had experienced before. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that it might actually be love.
One thing was certain. She would never forget the passionate midday interlude they had enjoyed in his private library. And she looked forward to such repetitions with alacrity.
Chapter 9
MEET THE BENNETS
LONGBOURN VILLAGE, HERTFORDSHIRE
The time spent at Pemberley was shorter than either of the newlyweds would have wished, but there were other considerations to be had. Namely visiting Elizabeth’s Hertfordshire relations and then journeying on to London for a lengthy stay in town.
The carriage carrying Mr. Darcy and his new bride rolled through Longbourn Village. The latter anxiously smoothed her dress, filled with trepidation about the imminent meeting between her spirited family and her husband.
The rhythmic clatter of horse hooves ceased abruptly as the carriage drew to a stop in front of the Bennet family home.
“Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked, extending his hand. His voice echoed through the carriage, formal and evidencing an unmistakable trace of unease. Elizabeth took his hand, and with his assistance, stepped out. Her heart pounded in her chest, an echo of the nervous tension that crackled in the air around them.
Longbourn was not grand, certainly not by her husband’s standards, but it was vibrant and alive, full of memories that flooded Elizabeth with a sense of nostalgia. She stole a sideways glance at Mr. Darcy, trying to gauge his reaction. His furrowed brows and pursed lips told her enough. He was a long way from Pemberley.
Before they could take more than a few steps, the door of Longbourn burst open, and an older woman fluttered out, her voluminous skirts billowing around her as she swept Elizabeth into a fond embrace, greeting them with a shriek of delight.
“Oh, Lizzy, how I have missed you! And look at you, already wedded! What good fortune!” she exclaimed. Her excitement bordered on hysteria, and her voice rang throughout the yard.
How Darcy wished the woman were an overzealous servant. His spirits plunged when he heard his wife address the woman as her mother.
Mrs. Bennet paused, taking in Darcy’s tall, imposing form and clearly distinguished air. “And what a husband you have brought home with you!” she gushed. “And so wealthy, I am told. I knew you could not be so clever for nothing!”
Darcy watched the spectacle with growing disgust. His wife’s mother was exactly the sort of woman he despised. The woman chattered on without restraint, and her manners, or lack thereof, were an affront to his carefully cultivated sense of propriety.
Elizabeth, cheeks flushed, formally introduced her husband. Yet, Mrs. Bennet seemed incapable of reigning in her enthusiasm. Her palpable excitement, instead of being heartwarming, grated on Darcy’s refined sensibilities.
However, he had little time to ruminate before three young ladies burst out of the house, surrounding them and assaulting Elizabeth and him with a chaotic barrage of uncensored opinions and questions that made his eyes widen in shock.
The door opened again to reveal a gentleman whom Darcy could only assume was Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Bennet. A man with an easy smile and sharp eyes, he approached with a casual stride.
“So this is the mysterious young man who has ensnared my Lizzy. Welcome to our humble abode, Darcy,” he said mockingly, giving a half-bow.
Mr. Darcy’s brows knitted in disapproval. The lack of a title before his surname was a marked departure from the formalities he was accustomed to from a complete stranger.
Darcy and Elizabeth had hardly settled in their apartment, the same room Elizabeth had once shared with her sister Jane, before it was time for dinner.
His brows furrowed in disdain, Mr. Darcy surveyed the dining room at Longbourn. He noticed the array of faded ornaments and dated wallpaper that characterized the scene before him. The table was covered with a pristine white cloth, but the silverware betrayed signs of regular use. To Mr. Darcy’s eye, it was as if the disarray and disorder of its occupants had permeated every corner of the room.
The dinner itself was a hearty affair, with the servants bustling to and from, presenting dish after dish of wholesome country fare. The scent of roasted meats mingled with that of freshly baked bread, a tantalizing combination that would normally have pleased Darcy’s senses. His appetite, however, was curbed by the scene unfolding before him.
Mrs. Bennet’s incessant boasting about her daughters’ marriages and her unquenchable thirst for attention grated on Darcy’s nerves. Her high-pitched laughter punctuated the room, and her effusive compliments were ladled out with as much enthusiasm as the gravy that accompanied the meal.
Mr. Bennet’s casual attitude towards his family’s impropriety was even more alarming. His teasing banter with Darcy, delivered with a sly wink and a knowing grin, set the younger man further on edge. Darcy’s inner turmoil mounted with each passing moment; his sense of decorum was affronted by the very family into which he had married.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, “you must tell us all about Pemberley! It must be so grand, so very grand indeed!”
“It is a fine estate, madam. I am fond of it,” Darcy responded, his measured tone polite but distant.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she leaned closer. “And the furnishings, Mr. Darcy? They must be exquisite! Do tell!”
Darcy’s expression was strained, his patience wearing thin. “They are adequate to my needs, Mrs. Bennet.”
At the far end of the table, Mr. Collins’s sycophantic fawning was equally unbearable. The gentleman and his wife, Mrs. Jane Collins, had arrived in Hertfordshire from Kent the day prior, ostensibly to meet Elizabeth’s husband and enjoy a hastily planned reunion with the Bennets. Collins’s constant references to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his generous benefactor—and incidentally, Mr. Darcy’s noble relation—were delivered with a reverence that bordered on obsession.
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy,” he simpered, “to be connected to such a noble family is an honor that I cherish every day.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, it must certainly be an honor.” Darcy’s response was curt, his eyes flicking towards Elizabeth, seeking refuge but finding none.
The younger Bennets added to the clamor, their insufferable conversations concerning the officers in the militia encamped just outside of nearby Meryton and other inconsequential topics, creating an uproar that reverberated in Darcy’s ears. Amidst the tumult, only Jane’s composed elegance presented solace. Her tranquil temperament, similar to his beloved sister Georgiana’s, was a relief to Darcy’s agitated sensibilities.
As the meal drew to a close, Darcy wrestled with a profound sense of disquiet. His commitment to Elizabeth had led him to this family, but the disparities between their stations in life could not help but undermine it. The evening’s events were a stark reminder of the challenges they faced, a test of his resolve, and a measure of his devotion.
By the time he retired for the evening, Mr. Darcy found himself questioning his choice of bride. How had he not discerned sooner the low connections he had unwittingly attached himself to through Elizabeth?
I must take stern measures to mitigate further damage such low connections will likely cause.
The next morning, Mr. Darcy escaped the chaos of the east parlor, seeking solitude outdoors. As he strode briskly across the grounds of the Longbourn estate, his spirits momentarily lifted.
Darcy could not believe his bad luck. Despite the means of bringing it about, he had married a woman he admired and respected, but her family was impossible. Mrs. Bennet talked non-stop and was always boasting about her daughters. Mr. Bennet was irresponsible and had abdicated his responsibility to ensure his family behaved in a proper manner, and the younger sisters were silly creatures who had no sense of propriety at all.
How on earth did I find myself in such a situation as this? This question weighed heavily on Mr. Darcy’s mind, and it was not for the first time since his arrival in Hertfordshire. Hurried approaching footsteps interrupted Mr. Darcy’s musing. Espying his wife’s brother-in-law, he inwardly groaned.
The last thing I need is to be detained by that ridiculous Mr. Collins.
“Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Mr. Collins, approaching with a self-satisfied smile. “What a most singular and fortunate occurrence to find you here alone. I had feared you were lost among the surfeit of women inside the household.”
Darcy bowed stiffly, his manner betraying none of the irritation he felt at being accosted. “Mr. Collins,” he said.
“Oh, sir!” Mr. Collins continued, inflating himself as if prepared for a grand speech. “Permit me to congratulate myself on how exceptionally fortunate I am in my connections. Indeed, I am vicar to the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and now, through the blessing of marriage, brother to her esteemed nephew.”
“I trust you find your situation pleasing,” Mr. Darcy replied, his tone bordering on indifference.
“Indeed, sir! And, oh! What a stroke of luck to be connected to two of the most sensible women in the county. My dear Jane is a treasure, and your Elizabeth, whose lot is so small, must consider herself a fortunate woman indeed to have married a man like yourself, with splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage.”
Darcy felt his temper rise at the mention of his wife. Mr. Collins’ presumption, his choice of words, indeed, everything about the man irked him. And yet, he found himself compelled to speak on the matter. “One does not enter into the bonds of matrimony solely for worldly advancement, Mr. Collins. There must be regard, respect, affection.”
“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Collins replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But the material considerations are not to be ignored. And speaking of sensible choices, I must praise my own wisdom in selecting the eldest daughter, Jane. A woman of such gentle temperament and reasonable expectations is a blessing to any man. It is of utmost importance that a wife knows and understands her place, especially if she is to be the wife of a vicar. I do not know if you know the family’s history—the nature of the entail on the estate, but as the heir apparent, I felt it my solemn duty to make amends for any inconvenience by choosing one of the five Bennet daughters to be my bride. No doubt, I could have chosen any of the five in theory, but with Jane being the eldest and by far the most beautiful, it seemed only right that I chose her. Which, indeed, redounded to your benefit, did it not?”
“Indeed,” Darcy murmured, allowing himself to ponder, truly ponder, what situation he had found himself in.
However, recalling the pleasures he had enjoyed with his new bride, by far the most satisfying journey from Pemberley he had ever enjoyed, and how he wished they had even more long days and especially long nights to explore their shared passions, he felt a stirring in his being. Perhaps he could prevail on her for a solitary walk—just the two of them.
“Mr. Collins, if you will pardon me, I shall return to the manor house.”
“But of course, sir!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, bowing deeply. “I have detained you long enough. Please extend my best regards to your dear wife.”
Darcy nodded and began to make his way back to the manor house, reflecting that, on the whole, despite the unwelcome interruption, he could have no reason to complain. The connection he shared with Elizabeth—the adoration and affection, the future they were building together—far outweighed any temporary annoyance.
His good luck in escaping Mr. Collins took a decided turn upon entering the house. While making his way through the halls of the manor house in search of his wife, he thought he heard raised voices echoed from Mr. Bennet’s study. Drawing near, Mr. Darcy discerned a heated dispute between Elizabeth and her father.
“I appreciate that the young man saved your reputation, my dearest Lizzy, but the haste of your marriage gives me pause,” Mr. Bennet said. “I hope the gentleman’s financial provisions for you are adequate.”
“Having seen the settlement yourself, by way of Uncle Gardiner, are you implying they are not?” Elizabeth cried indignantly.
Before she could reply further, the study door opened, and Mr. Bennet looked up in surprise at his new son-in-law.
“Ah, young man! We were just speaking of you,” Mr. Bennet exclaimed with false geniality. Ignoring the older man’s feigned civility, Mr. Darcy entered the room and looked at his wife.
“Pray you will allow me a private audience with your father,” he said, his tone more of an edict than a request.
Before Elizabeth could fashion a protest, he said, “I fear I must insist you leave us,” thus obliging her to quit the room.
“So—ten thousand a year,” said Mr. Bennet, peering over his glasses. Before Darcy could fashion a fitting response, the wry old gentleman continued, “Likely more, I suspect.”
Taken aback, Darcy said, “I trust you have given the marriage settlement, made on your daughter’s behalf with Mr. Gardiner, a thorough inspection.”
“Indeed, I did,” the older gentleman said, nodding. “Indeed, I did.”
“Then I trust you have no cause to repine.”
“Perhaps I do. Your language is very meticulous as regards what is to happen to my Lizzy in the event she survives you without having given birth to a male child. Heaven forbid you should find yourself surrounded by a household full of daughters, as in my case. It would be a most unfortunate prospect for my Lizzy, indeed.”
“I assure you that any offspring of mine will be well provided for from its cradle to its grave.”
“As will my daughter, so long as she bears you a son.”
“Pemberley has been the Darcy family home for generations. So long as it is within my power, it will remain so for generations to come. I shall not apologize for my stance.”
“Be that as it may, the terms of the settlement are weighed heavily to your advantage, are they not?”
“Why would they not be? I have asked nothing of you by way of a dowry. Everything on the table is there because I placed it there.”
“Those are strong words for a young man who has robbed a young lady’s family of the joy of seeing her walk down the aisle, meet the man she loves at the altar, and embark on a happily ever after journey.”
“Surely you must know our situation did not lend itself to such a fairy tale beginning, Mr. Bennet.”
“I know it all, even though I have kept the details from my wife and daughters. However, I feel strongly that once the engagement was announced, the urgency of a speedy wedding was reduced one hundred-fold. You might easily have waited for a more traditional approach.”
“I will not apologize to you for the manner in which everything unfolded. With all due respect, I have long heeded my own counsel, and I do not intend to abdicate my right to do so merely for the satisfaction of others.
“You are Elizabeth’s father, which gives you some liberty to be concerned for her future but certainly no rights. I am her husband. The decisions I make for my wife are not yours to question or to concern yourself with.”
Darcy stood, stretching his long legs and straightening his attire. “Now, if you will pardon me, I believe I shall seek the pleasure of my wife’s company.”
“By all means, Mr. Darcy. Proceed with haste and pray forgive me for taking up so much of your time.”
Mr. Darcy was gone directly.
Chapter 10
DINNER AT LONGBOURN
Despite his best efforts, Darcy found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the Bennet family. He tried to keep his distance, but Mrs. Bennet’s insistence on a dinner party forced him to interact with them more than he would have liked.
The walls of Longbourn’s dining room echoed with the clatter of utensils and the intensity of spirited conversations. Though a hearty array of roasted meats and savory herbs filled the air with pleasant scents, Mr. Darcy felt almost overwhelmed by the lack of etiquette around him and was taken aback at such an unrefined display.
Among the guests were Elizabeth’s uncle Mr. Phillips, an attorney who prided himself on his boisterous personality, and his equally uninhibited wife, Mrs. Phillips—a woman very much cut from the same cloth as her sister, Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Phillips was a robust man with a booming voice that filled the room. His hearty laughter was as loud as Mrs. Bennet’s, and his ruddy cheeks bespoke a fondness for wine. Dressed in an ill-fitting coat and sporting a wig that had seen better days, he regaled the room with accounts of his courtroom dramas. His animated gestures and florid descriptions were a stark departure from the genteel conversations Darcy was accustomed to.
