It was near dinnertime, and she set out towards the house again. She had gone only a short way before realising she had taken a wrong turning. Attempts to retrace her steps proved fruitless, and with a sigh of exasperation, she set off towards higher ground from which she might be able to see the house and re-establish her direction.
Her strategy was successful, although not immediately; she eventually made her way back to Pemberley House, but it was near dark when she arrived, and she was somewhat the worse for wear owing to leaving the paths to follow a more direct route. She was greeted at the door by the butler, who exclaimed, "Mrs. Darcy!"
She was weary, and she did not feel her appearance warranted such a degree of startlement. Her voice was a trifle sharp as she said, "If you would be so kind as to arrange for my supper to be sent up to my room, I would appreciate it." She went past him into the hallway.
"Madam, please, I believe the master wishes to see you."
"Please tell him that I will wait on him as soon as I have taken a moment to refresh myself." She would prefer not to appear before him in tattered slippers and a dirty petticoat.
Her wishes were destined to be thwarted, as Darcy appeared in the hall before she could quit it. "Elizabeth! Where have you been?"
She had to rein in irritation at his tone. She stood very still to hide her torn slippers beneath her skirts. "I was walking in the park and lost my way. It took me a little time to get my bearings. My apologies if you were concerned."
"Concerned!" he exclaimed angrily. "My steward has been organizing men to search for you!"
"Surely you knew I would find my way back," she said in an attempt to be reasonable.
"In the dark or if there were… an accident?"
"You have my apologies, sir. What further would you like?"
"I would like…" He paused, apparently struggling for self control. "I would like you to be more careful, at least until you know the park better."
She inclined her head in agreement, thinking it best to say nothing. At least he had not forbidden her to walk out altogether, even though it had obviously cost him something not to do so. "If you will excuse me, then?"
"As you wish," he said. For a moment, Elizabeth thought she saw the flicker of his old look in his eyes, but then it was gone again and replaced by implacability.
She thought about that look again as she sat in her bed in her nightdress, her arms wrapped around her knees. Did it mean that some small morsel of love remained within him? Perhaps so, but if it did, it seemed he regretted it. She found the idea oddly painful.
She could not continue in this manner. She needed to decide her best course of action regarding her marriage. The simplest answer was to go on as she had been, polite and compliant, but perhaps now with the addition of avoiding him as much as possible, since he no longer had any desire for her company. That would be dutiful, and no one could hold it against her. The harder option would be to try to give him what he claimed to want—the laughing, smiles, and teasing she had shown Colonel Fitzwilliam. She did not know whether it was within her capability, at least when he was as forbidding as he was now. She had done it before their engagement though, despite the fact that she disliked him; why should being married to him make it so much more difficult?
The worst of it was at night, like this, when she lay awake wondering if he intended to come to her. He had not been to her bedchamber since their quarrel, but that would change sooner or later, she had no doubt, and she was frightened of it. It had been difficult enough accustoming herself to the liberties he took with her body when he had been kind and gentle. She shuddered to think what it would be like if he came to her in anger.
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Darcy sat in his study until the rest of the household was abed, turning a pair of torn slippers flecked with blood in his hands. What had he done to her? Marriage to a man she disliked. He wondered what she had thought when he kissed her, when he was in her bed. Was it repulsion or merely distaste? He told himself, as he had many times in the past few days, not to think on it, but he was as unsuccessful as he had been every other time.
How could he keep from blaming himself? He had taken the woman he loved as if she were a toy he wanted and had killed the spirit which he loved her for. Now he was fated to spend the rest of his life facing a simulacrum of Elizabeth, remembering what she had been and the joy he had felt so briefly when he believed she cared for him. It was a fitting punishment for his selfishness that he should lose what he valued most. But she did not deserve to suffer.
How had he, with all the advantages of his birth and intellect, come to the point where he could think of no better outcome than that he might die young? At least then Elizabeth might have a chance at happiness. He ran his fingers over the dark stains on her slippers. Perhaps it was too late even for that.
Chapter 7
AT BREAKFAST MR. DARCY said, "Have you written to your aunt and uncle yet, madam?"
Elizabeth carefully broke her toast in two parts. "No, sir, I have not."
"Why have you not?"
"I wished to avoid embarrassment. I believe they plan to visit nearby, in Lambton, and I shall call on them there." Seeing his frown, she added, "You need not fear; my aunt and uncle are people of the world and understand the situ ation. They will not claim a relationship with you." Did he have any idea how much it cost her to speak of this as if it were of no matter? She turned her attention to buttering her toast as if the outcome of the Peninsular War depended on her thoroughness.
"Elizabeth, that was not my meaning."
She did not raise her eyes. "I would not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way, sir."
"Instead you insist on making yourself uncomfortable, as if that would be without effect on me. I was wrong to criticise your family. They are welcome here."
She was uncertain what to make of this unprecedented admission. His tone spoke more of irritation than of kindness. "I… thank you."
"Have I ever given you cause to be frightened of me?" he asked brusquely.
His words had the effect of forcing her to meet his eyes, and what she saw there was different from the message his voice gave her. "No. You have always been very kind to me." It was true; her fears were more of what he might do if he chose than of anything he had done. Recalling her resolve, she gave him a playful look. "Apart from a few moments when you rode that stallion of yours."
"You mean Hurricane? He is not as bad as his name suggests. But you never ride, do you?"
"No, I have always preferred walking. When I was young, I saw a man fall from horseback, and I never cared to learn after that."
"If I found you a very gentle mare, would you consider trying it?"
"If you like, sir," she said, though in truth she would prefer not to.
"No, if you like," he said sharply. "I am not trying to force it on you. It is merely that Derbyshire has many sights I believe you would enjoy that are inaccessible by carriage and too far to walk. I should not like to see you deprived of them."
She considered this for a minute. "Could it be a very small mare?" she asked doubtfully.
He smiled slightly, as if to himself. "The smallest and gentlest I can find."
"Well, then, I shall try. I do not promise to continue."
He raised an eyebrow. "That is all I can ask."
She had to admit he seemed happier when she challenged him than when she offered immediate compliance. If he wanted her as she had been in Hertfordshire and at Rosings, he must like some challenge. At least their discourse ended in a civil tone this time. Surely that must be progress.
***
Elizabeth noticed a small box sitting among her toiletries when she sat before her mirror the next morning to brush out her hair. Puzzled, she opened it to reveal a delicate gold pendant on a chain. She frowned; there was only one person it could be from, and she was not expecting gifts from him. He had always given her presents in person in the past, and she did not deserve anything now. Was it another gesture of pea
ce? Or perhaps it was something he had bought for her long since for some future occasion and now wanted to rid himself of—that would explain the indirect presentation, she supposed. She touched it lightly, feeling the cold hardness of it beneath her fingers.
She wore it down to breakfast, only to discover Darcy had already eaten and was out riding. It bought her a little time, but it made her wonder if he did not want to discuss it with her. Still, if he was making an attempt to mend the breach between them, she wanted him to know she appreciated it.
When he returned to the house, she sought him out in his study. Unlike his actions of a few days earlier, he rose politely when she came in and gestured her to a chair. She shook her head, but in a friendly manner. "Thank you for the necklace, sir. It is lovely."
"There is no need for thanks; the pleasure will be mine in seeing you wear it," he said formally.
"Well, you have my thanks anyway, and you may do with them what you will." On an impulse, she stepped around his desk and bent to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
He did not look pleased at her initiative. She backed away hastily, saying, "I shall see you at dinner, then, Mr. Darcy."
"I want no more duty kisses, Elizabeth. Their taste is bitter."
Stung, she replied, "That was not out of duty, unless you would have it so, but I will keep your chastisement in mind." She hastened away to her room, feeling unequal to meeting anyone.
So a reconciliation was not his desire. She removed the necklace and threw it on the table, not wanting it against her skin any longer. She should have listened to her first instinct and said nothing. Had he wanted thanks, he would have given it to her himself.
She did not wish to take the risk of encountering her husband again, so she spent much of the afternoon curled up in the window seat with a book. The novel could not hold her interest. She was angry he had spoken to her in such a way and both hurt and disappointed he had rejected her overture. If her efforts of the past few days were for naught, what was she to do next? She wished desperately for Jane or even Charlotte to confide in; they had always understood Darcy better than she did and would believe she meant well. But there was nothing for it but to make her own decisions. For now, she would follow his lead whenever they met.
There was no point in attempting to avoid him at dinner; she would only be delaying facing him till breakfast. She chose a different necklace when she dressed for dinner, selecting for her own comfort a topaz cross she had owned as Elizabeth Bennet.
He was waiting for her outside the dining room when she came down. Unsmilingly, he escorted her to her chair but paused once she was seated. She looked up at him, and he laid his fingers lightly on the side of her neck. "I prefer the other necklace," he said.
"I do not like duty gifts." She was uncomfortably aware this was the first time since their quarrel he had touched her. The warmth of his fingers against her skin felt almost shocking.
"I ought not to have said that earlier; I have regretted it," he said with a straight, serious look. "I would not wish you to feel you cannot approach me. I hope you will wear the necklace again. It was not given out of duty."
"Why else?" she said, the hurt which had been brewing in her all afternoon coming to the surface. "I know I am a disap pointment to you; you need not pretend otherwise."
He took his seat at the head of the table. "I will not attempt to disguise that our circumstances are not what I had hoped for, but it is not you who disappoints me."
"It is kind of you to say so," she said uncomfortably, not knowing how to respond to a statement so patently untrue.
"I took the liberty of writing to your aunt and uncle to extend the invitation for them to visit us here."
"You did?" exclaimed Elizabeth, startled. Recovering herself, she said, with what she hoped would be a teasing inflection, "I hope you will not regret it, sir. At least they are travelling without their children. My cousins might be more than even the most patient of men could bear."
"They seemed well behaved enough when I met them in London."
"If so, it was no doubt a chance occurrence, a temporary whim of the moment on their part."
He seemed to realise he was being teased and smiled slightly. "However you would have it, madam, they are invited."
"Yes, I see that when your mind is made up to a matter, there is no arguing with you." She returned his smile a little shyly.
"While we are on the subject of my stubbornness, Elizabeth, I should mention I have found a horse for you. Perhaps you would permit me to introduce you to her in the morning." There was a challenge in his voice.
"I would be happy to be introduced," she said, staking her own ground in the matter.
He seemed willing to accept this and turned the conversa tion to household matters, as if there were no difficulties between them at all. Elizabeth was willing to maintain this pretence as well, out of sheer relief for the cessation of hostilities. She only hoped it would last.
***
The horse was a lovely chestnut, small as he had promised, but with elegant lines. Elizabeth reached out to pat her neck, and the mare whickered softly, turning large dark eyes on her. "Hello, pretty girl," Elizabeth said, stroking her.
"She arrived yesterday, but I wanted her to settle in before you met her," said Darcy. "I have it on good authority she is very gentle and docile."
"No doubt more docile than I! She is lovely. Thank you."
"The pleasure is mine." He looked at her quizzically. "I admit I am confused. I was under the impression you disliked horses."
"Oh, no. I like horses. It is only riding them I do not like."
"Perhaps that may yet change."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Perhaps. Does she have a name?"
"Her previous owner called her Pandora. You can change it if you like." If Darcy was attempting to hide his smile, he was not succeeding.
She laughed. "No, I think Pandora is perfect. Is it not?" Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him.
"For her or for you?"
"I hope I am not opening Pandora's box by agreeing to this," she said.
"We shall see." Darcy led the mare to the mounting block then turned to look at Elizabeth, silently challenging her.
She walked over to the block and paused, gazing at it as if it were a mountain to be climbed. With a sigh, she stepped up, reminding herself the ground in the enclosure was free of rocks and she would not be high up; but she did not move quickly. If this was what it took to improve her husband's opinion of her, she would do it. She closed her eyes for a moment, then gingerly seated herself on the sidesaddle, holding tightly onto the pommel.
"Very good," Darcy said. "If you straighten your back, I think you will find it more comfortable."
"When did you become an expert at riding sidesaddle, sir?" Impertinence helped disguise her fear.
"One can learn a great deal by observation."
Elizabeth's hands gripped the saddle as he slapped the mare lightly with the reins. She would let him lead her once around the stable yard, no more, and then she would stop she decided. She was surprised that Darcy himself was taking on this task. She had expected to be relegated to a stable hand for this stage of her lessons. But perhaps he thought she would not try it if he were not there.
Pandora's gaits were reassuringly smooth, but Elizabeth's heart pounded at each step. They were a quarter of the way around, then halfway, then almost back to the mounting block.
"That is enough, I believe," she said, her voice scarcely obeying her. "I would like to stop now."
Darcy did not argue, leading her directly back to the block. He turned to her to offer his hand, looking taken aback at the sight of her face.
"I am sorry, Elizabeth; I should not have asked you to try this. I do not wish for you to make yourself uncomfortable." The concern in his voice was evident.
Gratefully she stepped onto the block. "You did not force me," she said.
"No, but I asked it of you. It did not occur to me that a woman
who dared stand up to Lady Catherine could possibly find riding alarming. It was my mistake. I will have her put away now."
"No," said Elizabeth, her voice a little stronger, "I think I will go around one more time first."
"Are you certain?" He did not sound convinced.
"Yes." She settled herself back in the saddle.
It was not quite so bad the second time, but she was relieved to dismount. This time Darcy said nothing beyond calling for a stable boy to take the horse.
That night at dinner Darcy asked how she was recovering from the morning's exercise.
"Well enough, sir," she replied.
"I apologise that it caused you distress."
"You must think me very foolish to be so frightened of riding." She was curious to see how he would handle this challenge, but she also wished to continue the conversation. Her riding was one of the very few subjects they could discuss without conflict.