Instantly Lizzy realized that she should have suspected this. She had privately wondered when, or if, Darcy planned on informing his aunt, but mentioning her name invariably met with a flash of irritation and stubbornness, so she had not broached the subject. Fighting for serenity, she replied, “Lady Catherine, the confirmation of our blessing has quite recently occurred. We have cautiously shared our news with friends and family. I trust William to decide how he wishes to deal with all matters concerning your relationship. Under the circumstances, it is best this way.”

“Those circumstances you so flippantly allude to would not exist if you had listened to reason and kept your proper place rather than grasping for wealth and—”

“Lady Catherine! I will not allow you to insult me in my house! This is a topic that is closed. If you have even the remotest desire to renew a relationship with your nephew and to be granted access to his children, then I beg you to halt your tongue. Continued remonstrations and vitriolic commentary benefit you naught. We are married. You may as well accept this.”

Lady Catherine paused, her countenance stony as she appeared to ruminate on the next statement. “Tell me, Mrs. Darcy,” always pronounced through gritted teeth, “how many calling cards and invitations and business appointments has Mr. Darcy received? After languishing half the season in Derbyshire rather than attending to his duties in Town, he should be far too busy to absent himself for a week.”

Lizzy was unnerved by the sudden altered direction. Aside from the unwitting reference to her prolonged recuperation that had prevented an earlier departure from Pemberley, Lizzy was confused as to where Lady Catherine's inquiry was leading. “Forgive me, Lady Catherine, but I fear I do not apprehend your meaning. Mr. Darcy is—”

“Then allow me to explain,” she interrupted, the hint of warmth in her voice bewildering Lizzy further. “A girl with your provincial upbringing would inevitably be ignorant of the requirements for those in the higher levels of society. Mr. Darcy's business ventures and responsibilities are extensive. Normally, he would have arrived in Town by late March, attending to his commitments and social obligations, the flood of solicitations so plentiful as to necessitate declining dozens each day. As Master of Pemberley, his company is sought by the elite members of society, including royalty, all of who are honored by his appearance. As his aunt I am deeply concerned for the ramifications of his… decisions of late. Not only has he eschewed his annual visit to Rosings, thus renouncing his familial obligations forsworn to my late husband prior to his death, his flaunting of conventions could seriously damage the reputation of the Darcy name and financial solvency of Pemberley. Of course, you selfishly considered none of this, did you? You who claim to love my nephew thought of only yourself—”

“Lady Catherine,” Lizzy halted her in a barely controlled voice, Darcy's beloved face firm in her mind lending her strength, “I believe our conversation has exhausted itself. I will end this discussion with these words. You have now not only insulted me yet again, a slight your nephew will have difficulty overlooking, but you have outrageously slandered his character.” In a tightly checked rage, Lizzy stepped nearer the white faced Lady Catherine. “To suggest that he would ever shirk his responsibilities or comport himself in a less than superior manner or hastily engage in activities that he has not thoroughly deliberated is abominable! I wonder if, despite your assertions, you know Mr. Darcy at all, or if you truly care for him.”

Lady Catherine's face was pale, expression unreadable, yet she did not reply, merely gazing at Lizzy with a deep intensity. Lizzy calmly reached for the servant's bell, not yet pulling. “Lady Catherine, regardless your opinion of me, I am not pleased with the estrangement between you and William. My heart would desire to see reconciliation, yet I can guarantee this will not occur if you do not reevaluate your judgment of our relationship.”

At that moment the door opened, Mr. Travers entering with a formal bow, six female bodies flanking him. “Mrs. Darcy, may I be of any assistance?”

“Yes, Mr. Travers, you can escort Lady Catherine to the door. Madame, I politely request you leave now. I shall inform Mr. Darcy of your visit, you may be assured. Good day.”

Lady Catherine hesitated momentarily and Lizzy sensed rising panic at the concept of physically evicting Darcy's aunt. Luckily, with a swirl of skirts and muttered articulations of disgust, Lady Catherine barged past the mass of women and Mr. Travers, her irritated voice echoing down the corridor. Lizzy sank into the comforting bulk of Darcy's leather desk chair, allowing the trembles to race through her. Mary was the first to her side, a glass of sherry pressed into slack hands.

“Drink this, Lizzy. Mama says it calms her nerves.” Lizzy sipped the offered beverage, an attack of the giggles bubbling forth as she glanced up at the array of faces above her. Mary and Jane serene and commanding, Kitty confused, Georgiana anxious and flushed, Harriet and Amelia stern and angry.

Eyes glittering, Lizzy laughingly asked, “Were you all eavesdropping?”

Georgiana flushed further and hung her head, but the others merely nodded. It was Kitty who replied, “Of course we were! We promised Mr. Darcy we would look after you. That harridan should not be allowed to upset you, Lizzy.”

“You should order the servants to slam the door in her face if she appears, Elizabeth,” Harriet stated firmly, then smiled. “You handled her well, though. I am proud of you.”

“Perhaps we should send word to my brother or cousin Richard at least, Elizabeth,” Georgiana spoke softly, tension evident in her shaky tone. “William will be so angry. Oh, this is too horrible!”

“Georgie, rest easy, my dear. I am fine, truly. Merely a bit aquiver. There is absolutely no reason to distress or interrupt William. Perhaps I will speak with Colonel Fitzwilliam or Lord Matlock. Honestly, I am fine.”

Generally, Lizzy was fine. That night, the first in six months without her husband, she stood in their private garden gazing at the stars, one of Darcy's robes engulfing her, and mused over the day's events. Her friends had comforted her all afternoon by their presence and witty chatter. Lizzy had not spoken of Lady Catherine's words, nor had she shared the event with Richard or the Matlocks at dinner that evening. She planned to speak with them eventually, but a dinner party with some thirty partakers did not offer the proper opportunity. Instead, she buried her turmoil, charming the guests and the hosts, a Lord and Lady Carlyle, passing a pleasant evening, although the ache of Darcy's absence never escaped her heart.

Now, it was quiet. The girls were abed, probably gossiping and giggling in one of their rooms. Between missing her husband and the residual commotion elicited from Lady Catherine's statements, Lizzy dreaded lying on the empty bed and attempting sleep. The majority of Lady Catherine's accusations Lizzy recognized as spiteful and without any foundation. The love Darcy and Lizzy shared was of a depth few could understand. The notion of regrets or faulty decisions on his part was laughable in the extreme.

Nonetheless, Lizzy did wonder. The truth is, she was completely ignorant of the social proprieties of Darcy's world. The idea that his marriage to her may have damaged the Darcy reputation or affected the estate in a tangible way seemed unlikely, yet she suddenly found the words of his first proposal echoing in her head. My rank, family expectations, your birth and inferior circumstances. Isolated at Pemberley, deliriously blissful in her husband's arms, Lizzy had given none of it the slightest consideration. Ultimately she trusted Darcy, believed in his love for her and in his competence to manage affairs as brilliantly as always. Yet, his aunt's words stung. How had she known the invitations had been minimal? Until two days ago they had received not a one, other than from their circle of intimates. Additionally, the opportunity with Duke Grafton was nearly refused due to Darcy's reluctance to abandon her. What else had he allowed to slip through his fingers?

Tears slid down her cheeks and the pain of his absence became unbearable. She could not regret marrying him nor could he regret marrying her, and Lizzy recollected his frequent slurs against the fickleness of society with mild encouragement. The influx of calling cards and invitations over the past two days proved how quickly the supposed importance of pedigree and station was overshadowed by wealth and connections. She could hear his voice: “By next year, beloved, not a soul will remember you as other than Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley.” The melancholy was not borne of remorse but of causing his life to be troubled in any way, no matter how minute or innocent.

A knock at the bedroom door interrupted her reverie. It was Samuel with an envelope he was charged to deliver to Mrs. Darcy prior to her retiring.


My beloved, precious wife,

I am writing this on the afternoon prior to my departure. You, my love, are sitting across from me on the sofa, your dainty feet tucked under you as you read, absently chewing a stray lock of hair as you always do when you concentrate. My God, you are so beautiful! I have hours remaining to kiss you and embrace you and express my ever-increasing love for you, yet my heart is breaking for missing you. I will charge Samuel to deliver this missive as you retire. I shall present a brave face tomorrow, my dearest, yet I deem there is no point in pretending that either of us will not be miserable on our first night apart. Will I fear attempting sleep in a strange and empty bed, or will I yearn for the oblivion of sleep to erase my pain and lose myself in sweet dreams of your kisses?