A Sense of Obligation Page 19

  Elizabeth smiled. She should have trusted her instincts. Her husband, who undoubtedly had great affection for her and even called it love—although it appeared he did not mean to say so—stated that he would not regret sharing her bed. She fingered his words on the paper. It was a tight, clear, and strong script, which perfectly reflected the character of the man who wrote it. He left it on his pillow, still carrying his scent, in place of himself. She blushed to think he had observed her as she slept but hoped to return the favour on the morrow.

  As she rose, she was pleased to feel little of the discomfort from the day before. She pulled the cord to call her maid. She realised she had stained her night shift and checked the bed linens. She saw a stain there, too, just as her maid arrived.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.” The maid curtsied.

  “Good morning. I am sorry I do not recall your name. The laudanum has left some portions of yesterday cloudy.” Elizabeth blushed; she hated to think she had made a poor impression on her first day as mistress.

  “Quite understandable, ma’am. My name is Sally.”

  “Sally, do you have any idea how long Mr. Darcy has been awake?”

  “I believe he had some coffee in the library above an hour ago.”

  “Indeed! Then let us begin the day. I would like a bath, and you will see the bed linens need changing as well. I think my blue muslin frock will serve nicely this morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The bath water will be up soon. Mrs. Sparks believed you would like one. Would you care for some tea as you wait?”

  “Oh, no, I prefer a simple toilette. I believe we can have me ready for breakfast in half an hour after the water arrives. Would you ask a footman to inform Mr. Darcy?”

  “Certainly.” The maid curtsied and left to perform her tasks.

  Elizabeth began to unplait her hair and pulled it into a simple bun for her bath. She wandered into her ample dressing room and surveyed her clothing. She knew she must go shopping but knew she would not have time before leaving for Pemberley, as they were scheduled to leave on Monday. Certainly the winters there would be harsher than the winters of London or Hertfordshire as Pemberley was nearer the mountains.

  Undoubtedly, her husband would press her to order her winter clothing in Town, but if they meant to spend several weeks at Pemberley, she would rather have a modiste in Lambton make her clothes, at least what she would require while there. It would be prudent for the Darcy family to extend their custom to the local shops more often. The Darcy family! She smiled at the thought.

  Sally returned, and only a moment later, two chambermaids brought the bath water. The new Mrs. Darcy and her servants proceeded with her preparations.

  *****

  Darcy was eager to see Elizabeth and misunderstood her instructions, arriving before she had finished her bath. He was embarrassed by his mistake as he opened the door scarcely after knocking, startling the maid who was changing the bed linen. He noticed a blood stain and blushed at the thought that the maid would assume its cause. His clever Elizabeth had thought of something he had not. It certainly would not do for the servants to think the marriage unconsummated on their wedding night, especially if they hoped to pass off the baby as a product of their first days together as husband and wife.

  He briefly nodded to the maid and hastily entered his own chamber. He found his room stifling and lonely. He had seldom seen the mistress’ chamber before, having no need to go there. It certainly was a lighter atmosphere, although perhaps not quite to Elizabeth’s tastes and definitely old-fashioned. It had not been redecorated since before his parents’ wedding when his grandparents lived there. His room was not inadequate, but the other room was Elizabeth’s. Her spirit and fragrance already filled the place.

  After some time in his reverie, he suddenly sensed her presence next to him and looked down to see her expressive eyes gazing at him.

  “What are you thinking, dear?” she asked.

  He smiled at the endearment. “I was realising how lonely my life was.” He raised her hands and kissed them. “But now I have my lovely wife and will never be lonely again.” She smiled at him, and he turned her hands over to kiss her palms. He was pleased to hear her breath catch.

  “Come, let us have breakfast, and then if you feel up to it, I shall give you a tour of the house.” He quirked a brow at her. “As you were so kind to point out yesterday, we live in a near hovel, so it should not take long.”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy!” She swatted at him, but he tucked her hand into his arm and led her downstairs.

  Darcy regretted there would be little time to enjoy London with his bride, but he truly had matters to attend to at the estate. Darcy was delighted with Elizabeth’s excellent suggestion that she patronise a local shop in Lambton for her Derbyshire wardrobe. She was already thinking like a proper mistress of Pemberley.

  Elizabeth would begin meeting with Mrs. Sparks to review the household accounts while Darcy went to assist Bingley in meeting with the solicitor. Elizabeth was surprised to hear the news, but he did not think it was his place to enlighten her as to the reasons for the changed wedding date.

  Darcy led Elizabeth through the house. It was built in the 1720s and, unlike most homes in the neighbourhood, had seen few amendments. It was not enormous and instead featured three moderately sized rooms per floor. On the main floor was a small sitting room, the library, and dining parlour. The first floor had the largest drawing room and the master’s and mistress’ chambers. The second floor held a nursery and two smaller bed chambers. The third floor was the servants’ quarters.

  Elizabeth was clearly quite delighted with the library and endearingly curious about the nursery. They ended the tour by returning to the library.

  “Dearest, I hate to leave you on our first day as newlyweds. If it were not to be of service to Bingley and your—our—sister, nothing could tear me away.”

  Darcy felt something near distress as he attempted to leave. Elizabeth was no help, as she embraced him and planted tender kisses upon his face. Her lips held just a fraction of the passion he had experienced from her before, but he found them addicting. In hindsight, he could not say who deepened the kiss as he tried to depart, only that it was utterly intoxicating, and he had no desire to ever quit this.

  But he did.

  His senses returned as he was bending her backwards, holding her with one arm, her hips flush against his own, while his other hand roamed her body, up from one hip, over her narrow waist, and along her ribs, gently grazing the side of a breast. She gasped and unknowingly pushed her body forward. The intense desire awakening in him surprisingly brought to mind the reality of their situation—he was to leave, and they were in the library.

  He managed to straighten Elizabeth and hold her at arm’s length, hoping he did not squeeze her too tightly as he attempted to control himself. He hung his head low, then dared to look at her from under his brows. The sight of her red, swollen lips nearly made him lose control again.

  Between gasping breaths, Darcy explained, “My love, you really have no idea how you tempt me.”

  He grinned at her dazed face. He pulled her close and gently stroked her cheek before giving her a kiss on the forehead. He pulled back and allowed his hand to trail from her cheek down her arm to her hand, which he raised to kiss. Then he turned it over and placed another firmer kiss in her palm. She gasped in response, thrilling him.

  “I will be back before dinner. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

  She gave him a weak smile, which was all he could manage, too. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to leave his house and his new wife.

  *****

  After Elizabeth recovered from Darcy’s farewell, she asked a maid to send for Mrs. Sparks. Choosing to work in the library because, aside from Darcy’s desk, it had a large table, Elizabeth easily worked through the past several years of account books.

  Mrs. Sparks checked her watch. “Goodness, Mrs. Darcy! The master told us you were clever, but I never expect
ed to be able to work through five years of accounts in such quick time.”

  “Oh, it is nothing. My mother was more than happy to turn over the responsibilities of the accounts when I first came out. We never had a house in Town or this income, so although the numbers are surprising, the way they are managed is not so different from an estate. I daresay not being consumed with Seasons in Town and the latest fashions was to my benefit. I can hardly imagine Mr. Darcy wanting a wife who could not run the household but could host a ball.”

  The housekeeper laughed. “You can see how little he has hosted events in the past; you are most assuredly correct.”

  Elizabeth sobered. “Actually, I would like to see the books from the former Mrs. Darcy. I realise it was years ago, and in a larger house, but Mr. Darcy and I have spoken about it, and we do plan to host more events. My aunt lives in Town, but anything she hosts would not compare to a party in this neighbourhood.”

  “Certainly, ma’am. You can find all the old account ledgers on the same shelf as those you have reviewed. Would you like me to remain?”

  “No, I only plan to use them as a rough outline, and I am certain you have other things to do. But if you could send luncheon in an hour, I would be grateful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth was so engrossed in her findings that she hardly noticed her luncheon arrive and barely touched it.

  Another two hours passed when her husband’s words interrupted her musings. “Elizabeth, are you well?”

  She gasped, alarmed that he would find her looking at these particular accounts. She jumped from her chair and saw him eyeing the tray of food she had not eaten. “Oh, I was distracted.”

  His eyes alit on the books she had left opened, noting the colour of their bindings. “I see.”

  She saw his jaw begin to tense.

  He strode to shut the door. “Can you please explain why you are reviewing my personal accounts?”

  He was quite angry. She feared he believed she had only been playing a part and was a fortune hunter desperate for information on his wealth. Her heart squeezed at the thought of losing his affections.

  Elizabeth stood still for a minute. Her eyes drifted to the clock, and she realised she was late dressing for dinner. He arrived home later than expected. She looked at him carefully, and despite his angry visage, there was a vulnerable expression of hurt, which it did not surprise her to see as she had some understanding of his feelings for her and given what she found in the books. He appeared exceptionally weary, as a day of business might do to a man, and she wondered if he had taken any nourishment the entire day. She remembered how her Aunt Gardiner handled similar situations with her uncle.

  “I will gladly explain my mistake, sir. But can I order tea for you while we talk? In the meantime, allow me to suggest the lemon tarts; I believe you have a preference for them.”

  “Elizabeth, now is hardly the time to take tea!”

  “Yes, but I believe you have not eaten all day, and as you see, neither have I. We might speak with more civility if our hunger is assuaged.”

  “We have dinner in an hour.”

  “Just a few restorative bites. It will go to waste otherwise, and I have spent the entire day reviewing the accounts; I know Darcy House is not frivolous.”

  “Very well.” He was curt and dubious.

  She called for tea, and Darcy obliged her by eating the tarts. She could scarcely say for Darcy, but for herself, she felt better after a few biscuits.

  “There, now I believe we are in a position to speak rationally.” Darcy was resolutely silent. “I spent several hours with Mrs. Sparks this morning going over the household accounts since you became the master.”

  “You managed it all in one day?”

  “Less than one day. You are such a creature of habit; hardly anything ever changed. You certainly do not need a wife to run your house. Mrs. Sparks is exceptionally efficient and organised.

  “As she was leaving, I asked where the older ledgers were. I wanted to leaf through those from your mother’s time, to see the differences when the family entertained more. She never told me your personal accounts were on the same shelf. I grabbed several by accident.”

  Darcy made a gruff sigh.

  “After skimming the years your mother was mistress, I saw you were correct; they did not entertain much. I was curious and sought the years when just you and your father lived here. I noticed that after you were around age fifteen or so, there were some odd entries. It seemed over the course of a few years, several maids were let go of a sudden, and there was a strange notation next to a few of them.” Elizabeth saw Darcy’s jaw tighten further.

  “I did not go looking for your personal accounts, sir, but the first page I opened to had the same symbol as in the house accounts and was for a shocking sum of nearly three thousand pounds. You can imagine what it would look like.”

  She paused a moment; it seemed Darcy was ready to speak at last, but he remained silent. “I noticed four or five of those entries and also noticed other large sums occasionally paid out.” His eyebrows rose, and she could tell he was surprised she was so diligent.

  “Instead of a symbol, next to them were the initials GW. Perhaps I am jumping to the wrong conclusions, but I think there is some kind of connection to paying this GW and compensating these maids for what clearly looks like trouble. The issue with the maids ceased when you became the master, but GW still sometimes received a payment, although not for the last several years. I cannot help but recall your reaction to a Mr. George Wickham in Meryton, and he certainly knew you. Is he blackmailing you?”

  Darcy let out bitter, hollow laughter. “If only!” He thundered so loud it startled Elizabeth. “Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you. And forgive me for my reaction earlier. I do not trust easily, in part due to Wickham. I am so accustomed to mercenary women. I knew early in our acquaintance you were not, but…”

  “But we are still early in our acquaintance. I understand.” He seemed relieved to hear it.

  “I had not wanted to discuss this so soon, but as it happens, we have been invited to dinner with my aunt and uncle tomorrow, and you will meet Georgiana there. I would need to speak of it soon, tonight or tomorrow at any rate.” He glanced at his watch. “We will be late for dinner if I speak further now. Will you allow me to explain it to you later this evening? We can have a tray brought to our chambers for supper.”

  Elizabeth startled a little at the thought. She had enjoyed his company the night before, and his note said he wanted it to be their bed, but it was all still so new to her.

  He saw her hesitance. “That is, if you do not feel uncomfortable…” He blushed and did not continue.

  “No, it does not give me discomfort. I would like it.” Darcy was clearly relieved.

  Deciding to forego changing to half dress dinner attire for only themselves, they proceeded to the dining parlour and attempted to enjoy the dinner planned by Mrs. Sparks.

  *****

  After their meal, Darcy and Elizabeth retired to the drawing room. He asked for her to play and sing for him. She happily acquiesced. They also took turns reading passages from a riveting account of the recent battles on the Peninsula.

  “One of my cousins, whom you will meet tomorrow, is a colonel and fought on the Peninsula last year, until being sent home wounded.”

  Elizabeth gasped.

  “He survived quite well; only a ‘slight wound’ to his right leg, as he would call it. You can barely notice its effects. He has been reassigned to the War Office now.”

  Darcy paused before deciding how to broach the topic. “I mention it because it touches on my explanation of George Wickham. I think we might retire for the night now.” It was only nine o’clock, but they were tired and did not see the need to keep Town hours when it was just the two of them.

  Elizabeth agreed.

  “How long do you need to prepare?”

  His words made her blush. “A quarter hour should suffice.”
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  They walked to their dressing rooms, both concerned with the conversation to follow.

  After closer to thirty minutes, Darcy and Elizabeth sat in their dressing gowns on a settee in her bedchamber. The house had no sitting room between the master’s and mistress’ rooms. A tray of cold meats and bread were on a side table but would likely go untouched. Elizabeth could feel Darcy hated the very notion of this discussion and hoped to put him at ease.

  “William, I hope I did not make you doubt my faith in your constancy or that I would think so little of your character that you were capable of harming maids, although you were quite young. I was confused and curious. My father indulged my curiosity, and I ought to have known enough to stop once I realised I had your accounts open. You need not explain anything to me. I am sorry I intruded on your privacy.”

  Darcy took her left hand in both of his. “All is well, Elizabeth. I was not angry, only surprised. Other than for a fleeting moment, I did not attribute any bad intentions to you. Of course, once you did explain, it made me all the more agitated, but not at you.”

  “Have we learned to trust one another, then? Do we know enough of each other’s dispositions to not have moments of doubt again?”

  Darcy gulped. He spoke truthfully earlier; trust did not come easily to him. But he also knew trust was paramount in love, and however much he had his trust broken by others, he would have to offer it to Elizabeth to prove his devotion.

  “Yes, I believe I know you well enough to comprehend that you have no mercenary tendencies. Neither would you intentionally wound me in any way. I cannot promise to always think rationally, but I will strive to remember it is you I am dealing with and not the others.”

  Elizabeth’s heart tightened to hear her husband allude to any pain in his past. “I promise I would never intentionally hurt you. I promise to try to think of how my words or actions might affect you, but I must know more about your history to understand. And I do trust you. You are an honourable man. You are incapable of acting otherwise.”

  Darcy could only wish it were true. “Elizabeth, you know my sins quite well…”