Page 26 of A Forced Marriage
The inn had two baths, one which Darcy now occupied. in the bath, a much-needed clarity hit Darcy as the cold water struck his skin. The plan, as expected for newlyweds, had been to retire alongside Elizabeth. However, her response to his apology gnawed at him. The distance between them was undeniable, her manner still distant and guarded.
He had hoped that his heartfelt apologies might begin to mend the breach between them, yet Elizabeth seemed to view him only through the prism of past grievances. The thought ofsharing a bed with her, knowing she was not willing was difficult to entertain.
He sighed heavily, making a decision he believed to be in their best interest. He could not, with any sense of propriety, impose himself upon her. Rising from the bath, he dressed quickly and sought out the innkeeper. After a brief and discreet conversation, he arranged for a separate room where he would spend the night.
Chapter 15
The journey to Pemberley had taken three days by carriage. They arrived late at night, and the grandeur of the estate was lost on Elizabeth, who was too weary to fully appreciate her new surroundings. Her only desire was to sleep, pausing briefly to greet the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, who welcomed them with warmth and deference before Elizabeth was led to retire to her new bedchamber.
The next morning after arriving at Pemberley, Elizabeth awoke to the first rays of sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Feeling more like herself after a night of undisturbed sleep, she rose early, eager to explore her new home. The anxieties that had weighed her down since her marriage to Mr. Darcy seemed to lift slightly as she dressed and made her way out of her room, though remnants of uncertainty still lingered in her thoughts. Elizabeth was grateful that Mr. Darcy had respected her privacy during their journey and had not entered her bedchamber. She couldn’t help but mark this as a point in his favour. From what she had heard growing up, not all men would have shown such restraint.
As Elizabeth stepped into the hallway, she found Mrs. Reynolds waiting for her, a warm smile on her face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. I hope you rested well."
"Yes, quite well, thank you," Elizabeth replied, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and anticipation. "I was hoping to see more of Pemberley today."
Mrs. Reynolds inclined her head. "Of course, madam. Pemberley is a place of beauty, and I am sure you will find much to admire."
Their tour began with the grand staircase, its polished wood gleaming in the morning light. As they descended, Elizabeth took in the sheer elegance of the interior—ornate cornices, rich fabrics for curtains, and paintings that adorned the walls.
The entrance hall opened up to a vast, high-ceilinged space with marble floors that echoed softly beneath their steps. Mrs. Reynolds led her through a series of rooms, each more impressive than the last. The drawing room, with its tall windows overlooking the grounds, was furnished with exquisite taste, the upholstery in shades of deep burgundy and gold. A grand piano stood in one corner, its surface gleaming, inviting Elizabeth to imagine evenings filled with music.
As they moved through the rooms, Mrs. Reynolds pointed out various pieces of art and furniture, each with its own history.
"This painting here," she said, pausing before a portrait of a stern-looking man, "is of Mr. Darcy's grandfather. A formidable man, by all accounts, but he built much of what you see today. And this," she gestured to an intricately carved wooden chest, "was brought back from Italy by Mr. Darcy's father. He had a great love for travel and collected many such treasures."
Elizabeth listened, captivated by the stories that brought the house to life. Yet, even as she admired the beauty around her, her thoughts drifted to Mr. Darcy.
"I haven’t noticed Mr. Darcy this morning. Might I ask where he has gone? Or has he not come out of his chamber all day?"
"The master left early to attend to urgent business with his attorney. He often has such matters to handle, given the responsibilities of the estate."
Elizabeth nodded, though the answer did little to quell her curiosity. "I must confess, Mrs. Reynolds, I have had little time to truly know Mr. Darcy. Some in Meryton have described him as aloof, particularly since he did not care to dance or make many acquaintances."
Mrs. Reynolds frowned, clearly taken aback by the question. "Indeed, madam, Mr. Darcy is a private man, that much cannot be denied. He has never been one for public gatherings, even as a child. But those who truly know him understand that he is the kindest of men, a master who is both fair and generous. His concern for the well-being of those around him runs deep, though he may not always express it in the manner others might expect."
"You speak of him as a child. Did you know him then?" Elizabeth inquired further.
A fond smile softened Mrs. Reynolds’ features. "I did, madam. I have been with the Darcys since I was but a young maid myself. Mr. Darcy was just two years old when I first came into service. I had the privilege of watching him grow, from a lively boy into the gentleman he is today, one who has continued the legacy his father so carefully built. He is, if I may say so, one of the best masters in all of Derbyshire."
The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and Elizabeth could not help but feel a slight tug at her heart. Here was a man, so often painted in her mind as cold and aloof, who was spoken of with such affection by those who had known him from childhood. It was difficult to reconcile this image with the oneshe had held of him for so long. Elizabeth couldn’t tell what to make of it, or how it made her feel.
They walked through a corridor lined with more paintings, the light from the windows casting shadows on the floor. The corridor led to the library, a room that immediately caught Elizabeth’s attention. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with books of all kinds—history, literature, philosophy. A large desk sat near the windows, covered in papers and quills. Even without Mrs. Reynolds saying a word, she could tell that Mr. Darcy spent much time there.
"The library is one of Mr. Darcy’s favourite rooms," Mrs. Reynolds said, confirming Elizabeth’s guess. "He spends many hours here, especially in the evenings. Reading has always been a passion of his."
Elizabeth ran her fingers lightly over the spines of the books, her mind questioning her prejudice against her husband. Surely if he hadn’t said hurtful things about her family and her and hadn’t acted according to how her friend, Mr. Wickham, had described, Mrs. Reynolds’ description of Mr. Darcy was one Elizabeth could like. What was there not to like beyond that? He was, after all, a handsome man, with a good fortune, and one who was fair to his household given Mrs. Reynolds’ testimony. Or was the housekeeper merely telling her this because she sought her favour as the new mistress of Pemberley? Determined to find out, Elizabeth said, "Mrs. Reynolds, I cannot help but feel that Mr. Darcy is misunderstood by many. And yet, he chose me... How odd it seems, for such a private man with great fortune to marry under such public circumstances to a lady with no connection."
Mrs. Reynolds’ expression softened further, a knowing look in her eyes. "I have heard some things, madam, from the servants mostly. But I do not concern myself with gossip. What I do know is that Mr. Darcy is not a man to be easily swayedby the opinions of others. Many have sought his attention—Miss Bingley, Miss de Bourgh on her mother’s insistence, and others from prominent families. Yet he chose you, Mrs. Darcy. That is something to consider."
Elizabeth felt a shiver down her spine at the mix of emotions—relief, doubt, and a lingering sense of unease. She glanced out of the large window in the library, which opened to a view that took her breath away. The grounds of Pemberley stretched out before her, a verdant landscape of rolling hills, ancient oaks, and a sparkling lake. The gardens were meticulously kept, with paths winding through beds of roses and lavender. In the distance, the sunlight danced on the surface of the small lake, surrounded by trees whose leaves whispered in the gentle breeze.
Seeing her interest in the garden, Mrs. Reynolds led her there. When they reached the heart of the garden, Elizabeth concluded that Pemberley was not just a grand house; it was a living, breathing entity, a place where beauty and order coexisted in perfect balance. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of blooming flowers, and Elizabeth felt a sense of peace she had not known in days.
"Mr. Darcy has always been particular about the grounds," Mrs. Reynolds said as they walked. "He often spends time here, overseeing the gardens. He takes great pride in Pemberley, as did his father before him."
For the first time since the assembly, Elizabeth found herself admiring the man she had so often criticized. There was a depth to Mr. Darcy that she had not fully appreciated before—a connection to his home, his family, and his responsibilities that spoke of a character far richer than the one she had initially judged.
