Chapter 2 The Miracles of Marriage

The Darcy carriage traveled efficiently from the happy frolicking days of the couple’s Scottish wedding trip to the daunting mantle of family responsibility waiting for them in the south. Elizabeth Darcy sat on the bench across from her husband and insisted her maid, Higgins, join them for much of the journey. 

Such a change occurred at the first stop when the dreadful silence marred most of the first leg of their journey. Mr. Darcy did not argue with the arrangement due to his wife’s delicate condition. But it was not for symptoms of carrying a child that Mrs. Darcy wished to have Higgins near. Instead, the two women talked excessively about fashions and changes to Elizabeth’s wardrobe for the change in residence and season. As Scotland’s summer was cooler than the English summers, much of her clothing would work well for the autumn with new trimmings and a reduction of plaids.

Between hours of chatter about gowns and bonnets and his wife’s deafening silence, punctuated by the shortest answers when he asked her a direct question, Mr. Darcy’s temper ran high at the last stop before they expected to reach Mr. Bingley’s home. The early morning dew was long burned off by the sun when the last Darcy carriage was rigged with a new team so they could continue their travels. Mr. Darcy spied Elizabeth whispering earnestly with Higgins. Then Mrs. Darcy shooed her maid away. 

Mr. Darcy walked up to the train of vehicles, after settling their bill with the innkeeper, and dared to make his wishes known.

“I should like it very much if we rode alone,” he said in his master of Pemberley voice, knowing better than to have his words be an actual demand.

Elizabeth watched Higgins reach Simmons, the two women shared a conspiratorial nod, and then she smiled at her husband.

“Of course we shall ride alone. I do not wish to arrive at Netherfield Park and let Caroline Bingley believe we are quarreling. I’ve instructed Higgins to ride with the other servants.” Elizabeth stood with her chin jutted out in pride as to her the matter was settled. But not so for her husband. And so he did not reach up to open the door and assist his wife inside, a courtesy he had been performing since their wedding over the anvil.

“You misunderstand me, Madam. I do not wish for us to ride alone for mere appearances that we are not quarreling. I wish for us not to be in a quarrel,” Fitzwilliam explained.

Elizabeth began to feel annoyed. Days of morning nausea coupled with the long travel and anxieties of seeing her family after such a tragedy at Longbourn did not leave much patience in reserve for her husband.

“I, too, also do not wish to quarrel, but I cannot pretend that my feelings are settled on the entire matter. Would you prefer artifice?” she asked, unaffected by her husband’s stormy expression.

Mr. Darcy clenched his fists together and then raised one hand to pull open the carriage door. Elizabeth casually reached out her hand for his to take the first step and grabbed the strap above her head for the bulk of assistance to take her position inside the carriage.

Mr. Darcy watched as his one act of opening the carriage door inspired a flutter of activity across the five vehicles traveling together in one long caravan. For such a trip, both Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had carried with them extensive luggage and obtained new belongings during their stay in Scotland. A sixth carriage with a mounted guard had peeled off the main road to head back to Pemberley with various letters for the Darcy staff there. 

As Mr. Darcy looked up, he spied Elizabeth leaning forward and grinning at him with the bright countenance he remembered from before all their troubles. Her smile was all the encouragement Fitzwilliam Darcy needed to lift himself into the carriage, slam the door, and take his rightful seat next to his wife.

Elizabeth twisted in her seat so that she faced her husband.

“I am sorry that I have not yet managed to forgive you completely, I suppose.”

“I do not understand why you hold such a tender regard for my sister’s husband.” Mr. Darcy allowed old jealousies of Mr. Wickham to cloud his assessment of his wife’s emotions. Truthfully, Elizabeth had barely met George Wickham before they had gone to Hertfordshire to appeal Mr. Bennet’s blessing on their marriage.

Elizabeth Darcy jerked as the carriage move forward, but would not allow a misunderstanding to grow between them. If her husband did not wish to be quarreling by the time they reached Netherfield Park, then she had to be honest. It was one of the virtues her father had instilled in her and she still respected her upbringing. Her rejection of her cousin’s suit and running away with Mr. Darcy for an unorthodox path to matrimony had estranged Elizabeth from both of her parents, but she still loved them. 

“I hold no additional regard for the late Mr. Wickham than I would for any man. From what I gather of the situation, he was a scoundrel of the first sort. But I have not reconciled my feelings about how little you consider my opinion. Furthermore, I have not had any counsel with my Aunt Gardiner or my sister, Jane,” Elizabeth explained, believing her words sounded perfectly reasonable.

Now it was Darcy’s turn to angle towards his wife and begin to throw his logic her way. “So your charges are that I do not come to you for guidance, and in the same breath you tell me that you need guidance from your sister and aunt.”

“That is not fair,” Elizabeth Darcy scoffed.

“I am merely trying to understand your feelings, Mrs. Darcy. Are we to come to each other for insights on our most difficult dilemmas or are we not? I was mistaken to keep Mr. Wickham’s death from you, but it was done so for your benefit. I did not wish to sully our happy times in Scotland. I had already believed that I had not courted you as you deserved and the resulting guilt influenced my decision heavily.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips. She did not appreciate her husband’s verbal parry of her well-thought-out reasons for the emotional distance between them. She slowly began to turn away from him, but he reached out to cradle her elbow, and gently pulled her into an embrace. Elizabeth stiffened, but Mr. Darcy did not fall for such a false flag of communication. As he bent down to kiss his wife’s forehead, he sighed, and slowly slid his right hand down her back to gently massage the area just above where she was seated to ease the aches from travel.

Elizabeth leaned into him so that he reached more easily to rub her back. Gently, she moaned at the relief he provided.

“Would you bar me from talking to my aunt and sister?” she asked with an earnest tone of honest inquiry.

Mr. Darcy shook his head and continued to soothe his wife with his roaming hands.

Elizabeth leaned back and looked up at the handsome face of her Fitzwilliam. “Perhaps we can make an accord.If we resolve to come to one another first about major issues affecting our family, we might still seek the counsel of others as we both deem it prudent?” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow as she waited for her husband to respond.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared into the eyes of his Elizabeth and marveled at her evenhanded suggestion for reconciliation. She had not risen to the bait of his fallacy, but instead turned the entire situation into one that worked in her favor. He would have to agree and in doing so, he would be giving her exactly what she wanted in the first place: a promise of loyalty to her above all others.

“I believe your compromise has merits, Madam.”

“But do you agree? It is important to me, Fitzwilliam, that the behavior you are asking of me is the same I can rely upon from you.”

Mr. Darcy sighed and pressed their foreheads together, as an ill-timed bump in the road jostled them apart, then allowed them to reconnect with slightly more force than either found comfortable. As they both released each other to tend the minor injury, Elizabeth began to laugh.

“I can recall when I found sitting in a carriage alone with you to be so utterly romantic,” she said as she began to fix her skirts and sit straighter  in the seat on the bench. “Now I confess that I’m finding so much travel to be an utter bother!”

Mr. Darcy slid closer to Elizabeth so that their legs were touching. He leaned and whispered into his wife’s ear. “I would say that I agree with you Madam, but it would be a falsehood.” He gently kissed her neck delicately  behind her ear and Elizabeth shuddered.

After he trailed a few more kisses along her hairline, their lips met in a passionate kiss. Their hands and lips found many methods to release the growing tensions that remained from their argument in Scotland, and Elizabeth did not forget that her husband had not formally agreed to her suggestion that they always come to one another first. But her heart did not care at the moment. In her mind, what could be deliberated another day with words took second precedence over what passions and stirrings could be satisfied today.