Page 27 of Pemberley's Imposter
“Would you say yielding easily to persuasion is a sign of strength, Mrs Darcy?” The colonel would not let it rest, overlooking Ellie’s exclamation as though she were not in the room.
If Elizabeth had any doubts the colonel had been deliberate when he related Mr Darcy’s interference in Mr Bingley’s affairs as they strolled the paths of Rosings, none were left. Mr Darcy seemed to be of the same mind, judging by the frown between his brows.
“That would depend entirely on the trustworthiness of the persuader. To yield to a friend of long-standing, someone with greater experience in the matter, is not a sign of weakness but humility. Humility, I believe, is a strength. To be too certain of your own abilities and never to seek advice from your superiors might lead you to failure as much as listening to advice from an unreliable source. Take Napoleon’s invasion of Russia as an example. We should be grateful he did not listen to the advice of wise men, or he would not have lost his soldiers to the cold Russian winter.”
Elizabeth suddenly noticed Mrs Fitzwilliam looking watery-eyed at Ellie, who was munching on her roll. Her legs were swinging happily while she looked innocently at the adults surrounding her. With her nose barely above the table, her dark mop of curls bounced merrily with the movement of her limbs.
Ellie noticed all eyes were on her and crawled, self-conscious, into Elizabeth’s lap, hiding her face in her neck. She tugged at her mother’s elaborately coifed hair to hide beneaththe tresses, but Elizabeth stopped her before she caused too much damage.
Elizabeth hastily left the suppressed atmosphere of the breakfast room, hardly having touched her food. She was teaching Ellie to use the chamber pot. Experience had taught her it was wise to put her daughter on the pot immediately after breakfast, and she hurried through the house to reach the nursery before it was too late.
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The weather was lovely, and mother and daughter ventured out of doors as soon as Ellie was ready. At least Pemberley provided her with time for leisure, strolling the gardens with her daughter and giving her labour-worn hands time to heal.
Elizabeth vaguely remembered a swing hanging from the branch of an apple tree in one of the rose gardens. Ellie toddled beside her and squealed in delight when the swing came into view, tugging on her mother’s hand to persuade her to walk faster.
Elizabeth lifted her daughter onto her lap and swung them with her feet. Ellie bounced in eagerness to go faster and higher. Elizabeth surrendered to her wishes and kicked them off, swinging towards the sky. She leant back with her daughter lying on her stomach and watched the white, fluffy clouds drifting past high above in the sky. The colonel and his wife would certainly leave soon. It could not be any more pleasant for them to tarry than it was for her or Mr Darcy. Inexplicably, she did not fear Mr Darcy. She did not like him much, nor did she trust him—he should have listened to her explanation after the colonel had accosted her. He could never have loved her, and his determined pursuit of her must have been due to lust. Her cheeks were suddenly on fire. It was best not to let her thoughtstravel to that particular part of their relationship. It was in the privacy of their chambers that Mr Darcy had appeared most genuinely himself. So tender and gentle yet passionately giving in wild abandon.
Elizabeth tried to imagine being in Mr Darcy’s shoes. What would she have done? She would not have believed her own eyes…but she would have let him explain.
Or perhaps not. Not if it had been Caroline Bingley in Mr Darcy’s arms, a lady who had imagined herself as the future mistress of Pemberley. Elizabeth would have had reason to doubt her husband due to the coquettish behaviour she had witnessed at Netherfield compared to the slight acquaintance she had with the colonel.Thatman might have embellished their previous dealings to Mr Darcy; she would not put it past him. The crux of the matter was that her husband must be suffering a vast deal of pain if he had held her in the slightest bit of tender regard.
#
A week passed, but the colonel and his wife still remained at Pemberley, and their honeymoon appeared all but forgotten. The atmosphere had not improved; instead, it had soured further. The only consolation in Elizabeth’s eyes was the fact that the colonel showed no interest in either her or her daughter. He might be a despicable man, but he represented no immediate threat.
Ellie was adapting to her nurse, allowing Elizabeth to leave her at mealtimes to join her guests unaccompanied. She would have preferred to stay in the nursery, but her vengeful husband would not permit it. What he hoped to accomplish was not obvious to Elizabeth, other than to torment her. Mr Darcy had not appeared to be vindictive in his dealings with Mr Wickham,but she supposed her feelings were of less importance to him than those of an old friend.
Elizabeth sighed and left her daughter with her capable nurse to take tea with the adult residents of Pemberley. She was late.
“I expect you to be on time,” Mr Darcy grunted.
“It is still a delicate matter to leave Ellie with the nurse. If I am too hasty, the woman has a crying child on her hands instead of a contented one. It is how it is, taking care of a little one.”
“Are you accusing me of not caring for my child?”
Mr Darcy had hardly spoken to her since they had arrived at Pemberley. How unlike him to pick a fight in front of his sister. Replying with caution would be the wisest.
“I am merely trying to explain the difference in our positions. I am not suggesting you do not provide for your child.”
Mr Darcy relented as the butler brought the post on a silver salver. There was a letter for Elizabeth amongst Mr Darcy’s correspondence.
“Oh, it is from Jane!” Elizabeth exclaimed happily to three stony faces. She immediately schooled her features into a neutral expression and took her letter to the sunlit window to read. She turned her back to the room and bowed her head over it.
It was the first letter Elizabeth had received from her family since returning to Pemberley. It bore glad tidings—Jane and Mr Bingley would soon be on their way to Derbyshire. Mr Darcy had said the Bingleys were welcome at Pemberley. He would not go back on his word, would he? Elizabeth gnawed on her bottom lip, eager for a visit from her favourite brother and sister but apprehensive it might come to naught.
“Bad news, Mrs Darcy?”
Elizabeth turned towards Mrs Fitzwilliam. “No, not at all. My sister Mrs Bingley writes that I might expect her and her husband soon. They will arrive a week and a day from now. Ellie will be delighted.”
“You cannot allow it!” the colonel uttered, aghast.
“I am indebted to Mr Bingley,” Mr Darcy replied quietly.
“That was many years ago. You cannot mean the service has not been repaid. Several times over I should think.”
“He saved my life,” Mr Darcy said quietly.
