Page 29 of A Forced Marriage
But as Elizabeth folded Jane’s letter, another thought lingered at the edge of her mind. How was it that, despite the upheaval in her life, she had found a certain solace in these quiet moments at Pemberley? The beauty of the estate, the kindness of Mrs. Reynolds, and even the prospect of Georgiana’s company—these were all small comforts in what had otherwise been a tumultuous period.
And yet, beneath these comforts, there lay a deeper troubling, one that Elizabeth found difficult to dispel. Jane's letter had served as a reminder of the complexities now entwined with her life, the weight of the title "Mrs. Darcy," and the manifold expectations it carried. She had made a sacrifice, as Jane had so gently expressed, but was it one she could truly endure? The prospect of reconciling with Mr. Darcy, of making peace with him as Jane had so sensibly advised, seemed both necessary and formidable, though it aligned with the resolution she had already formed in her mind.
"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds," Elizabeth said.
"Is there anything else you require, madam?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.
Elizabeth shook her head, offering a polite smile. "No, nothing more at the moment. I shall retire to write a letter of my own."
"Very well, madam. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to call for me."
With that, Mrs. Reynolds curtsied and withdrew, leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana to resume their sisterly conversation. Georgiana did not inquire about the details of the letter, and Elizabeth did not offer any gossip about it either.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth awoke with a start, her heart racing from the remnants of a disturbing dream. In her sleep, she had found herself in a grand ballroom in London, the chandeliers casting a dazzling light upon the assembled guests. There, in the midst of the glittering crowd, stood Mr. Darcy, his voice cold and dismissive as he spoke of her lowly connections, of her family's lack of fortune and status. The words, though spoken in a dream, had cut deep, rekindling the prejudice Elizabeth had thought to set aside.
She sat up on her bed, her nightgown clinging to her damp skin from sweat, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room was still dark as the sun was yet to rise on the horizon, but her mind was anything but quiet. She tossed the bedcovers aside and sat up, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead as if to steady the storm of emotions that threatened to consume her. The absence of any communication from Mr. Darcy as Georgiana had promised the previous day, only served to fan the flames of her discontent
How could he? she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. He had left her alone in this unfamiliar house, surrounded by strangers, and hadn’t even the courtesy to send word. The sting of his neglect was like a slow-burning fire, intensifying with each passing moment.
By the time the morning sun had fully risen, Elizabeth’s anger had settled into a hard knot in her chest. It was as if all the doubts she had harboured about her husband had been confirmed. If he were truly sorry, she reasoned, why would he abandon her, leaving her to feel like nothing more than a newly acquired piece of furniture in his grand house?
Her resolve to give Mr. Darcy the benefit of the doubt crumbled beneath the weight of her renewed prejudice. She could not shake the conviction that he was, after all, the proud and aloof man she had always believed him to be, despite Mrs. Reynold and Georgiana testimonies.
When Mrs. Reynolds appeared to invite Elizabeth for breakfast later that morning, Elizabeth waved her away. "I do not feel like eating this morning, Mrs. Reynolds," she said, her tone sharp and dismissive. The housekeeper, though surprised, curtsied and withdrew without a word.
However, Georgiana, having noticed Elizabeth’s mood, later suggested they go to town, a proposal Elizabeth seized upon with alacrity. "Yes, let us go to town," she said. "I have been indoors for two days already, and with Mr. Darcy still away, I find I have little appetite for remaining here any longer, doing nothing with my mornings." In truth, Elizabeth’s request was driven by more than mere restlessness; it was an attempt to distract herself from the growing bitterness in her heart.
The journey to the town was not a long one, and Elizabeth was grateful for the change of scenery. The fresh air and bustling streets did much to lift her spirits, though her resentment towards Mr. Darcy simmered beneath the surface. Georgiana, eager to please, led her first to a fabric shop, where according to her, the town’s best modiste plied her trade.
The modiste, a woman of middle age with a pleasant, if somewhat harried, countenance, greeted them with a curtsy."Good day, Miss Darcy," she said, her eyes widening with surprise when she noticed Elizabeth at her side. "And this is...?"
"Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy," Georgiana replied with a smile. "It is a recent development. My brother married just a few days ago."
The modiste's eyes grew wider with astonishment. "Mr. Darcy has married? I had not heard a whisper of it!"
"Indeed, it is true," Georgiana affirmed, "We have come to see you about some new gowns for Mrs. Darcy. She will soon have to attend many balls and will need attire befitting her new station."
The modiste nodded eagerly, "Of course, of course! Mrs. Darcy, it is an honour to serve you. I must tell you, I owe much of my success to Mr. Darcy. I was once a maid in his household, but he took it upon himself to secure me a loan when I wished to start this business. I shall never forget his kindness."
Elizabeth, however, was in no mood to be swayed by tales of her husband’s generosity. The modiste's words, meant as praise, only served to deepen her resentment. She could not reconcile the image of Mr. Darcy as a benevolent benefactor with the man who had spoken so harshly of her family, who had wronged Mr. Wickham, and who now left her in the great house of Pemberley without so much as a word of explanation. To Elizabeth, it seemed that Mr. Darcy was a man who relished acting the part of the noble gentleman when it suited him, especially among those who agreed with his actions and status. But beneath that polished exterior, she believed, lurked the same pride and arrogance she had always suspected.
As the modiste took her measurements and discussed fabrics and styles with Georgiana, Elizabeth remained silent, her mind fixed on the injustices she believed Mr. Darcy had committed. The praise he received from those around him only served to fuel her anger. She could not bring herself to speak ofhim kindly, nor could she forget the hurtful words he had once spoken. And so, even as she nodded and smiled politely, her heart remained closed, the walls of her prejudice firmly in place.
By the time they left the shop, Elizabeth felt no closer to understanding her husband than she had when she first arrived at Pemberley. The resentment that had taken root in her heart now flourished, unchecked and unchallenged. She resolved to keep her distance from Mr. Darcy until he proved himself worthy of her trust—if, indeed, such a thing was possible.
****
It was late in the afternoon when Elizabeth and Georgiana returned from their outing. Elizabeth’s thoughts remained a blend of lingering frustration and a softening resolve. The day had offered some distraction, yet as they neared the house, a renewed sense of anticipation began to swell within her.
The carriage came to a halt, and as the footman opened the door, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy standing at the entrance. His tall figure was silhouetted against the afternoon sun, his expression one of composed attention. Her heart gave an involuntary flutter—whether from surprise or something else, she could not quite determine.
"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana exclaimed with a bright smile as she descended from the carriage. "You’ve returned. We expected you sooner."
Mr. Darcy’s features softened at the sight of his sister. "Yes, I’ve only just arrived, I didn’t imagine that I would be away for so long." he said, his tone warm. He extended a hand to help Elizabeth down from the carriage, his touch light but steady.
"Mrs. Darcy," he greeted her with a slight nod, his eyes searching hers briefly before shifting back to his sister. "Georgiana, would you mind leaving us for a moment? There are some matters I wish to discuss with Elizabeth."
