Maybe, justmaybe, Mr. Darcy should have thought about how wholly unsuitable she would be as his wife before he kissed her without so much as a “by your leave”.
I should have slapped him instantly.
And then she remembered why she hadn’t. How she had enjoyed the touch of his lips, then and last night.
Thatwas an even less acceptable thought, which left Elizabeth clenching her jaw harder.
“Miss Lizzy, are you well?”
Mary tapped her shoulder. The woman had been in charge of the hair of the Bennet daughters since Jane had turned fifteen, and so of course she still called Elizabeth “Miss Lizzy”, and not Mrs. Darcy. And she could see very well that her mistress was tense and angry.
Elizabeth forced a false smile and fake happiness. “What in your view is necessary to make a purchase of before we head north to Derbyshire? I have been informed that we will only remain in London for a week.”
“Only a week?” Mary replied. “That is not enough time for dressmakers to prepare anything.”
“No dresses,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “I will happily enough simply wear what I already have, and you can modify as needed to make things more matronly. We’ll order a few pieces in Derbyshire. That is decided then.”
“You are Mrs. Darcy now,” Mary replied. “Do you notwish to look the part?”
“No, I do not,” was Elizabeth's quick and almost petulant reply. “We’ll see what is necessary.”
At first Elizabeth had planned to wend her way out alone on foot. She’d planned on a long comforting walk followed by the bookstores, and maybe a millinery along Bond Street, before she called on her aunt. However everyone amongst the staff — Mrs. North the housekeeper, Mr. Smith the butler, Fred and George, the footmen, and of course coachman John — was so wholly shocked by the incomprehensible image in their minds ofMrs. Darcyalone in the metropolis, without a vast array of people ready to show the livery of the house and carry her parcels, that in the end Elizabeth dropped her apparently unsuitable scheme ofwalking, and agreed to take the coach.
Now she decided to go straight to the Gardiners’ residence instead of relieving her emotions by shopping. In her present state of mind reading would be no pleasure, and memory of her father’s words made it impossible for her to take joy again in shopping for clothes, and London was too familiar to her for her to find any appeal in the sort of intent tourism that rural persons from remote corners of the kingdom habitually engaged in when they first arrived in the capital.
If she wished to have any new clothing made for her, even if it would need to be sent along after for a final fitting in Derbyshire, she would need to have the orders made at once. So, Elizabeth had taken Mary along for the hope of her advice as the one who would be dressing her. Despite her antipathy to the prospect, she would regret it if she did not acquire a few dresses built in a more “Mrs. Darcy” style than what her current wardrobe offered.
They reached the fine house that her uncle kept on Gracechurch Street. It was across from a market square and down the road from his Cheapside warehouse.
Elizabeth was helped out of the carriage by the eager hand of the footman. She had to suppress an irrational irritation — she was fully capable of hopping out without aid — and then walked to the familiar red painted oak door. She lifted her hand to knock. And then hesitated.
With such a short time between when her engagement with Mr. Darcy had been established and when the state of holy matrimony had been embarked upon, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had not been able to arrange to be present at Longbourn for the wedding. In any case Elizabeth had known that the plan was to go to London following the wedding, and at a later date to continue to Pemberley.
Why had he not told her the details of the plan?
They had not talked. Only two awkward and stilted conversations under the sour observation of her father between when Darcy dutifully presented himself to ask the patriarch’s permission to wed his daughter, and when they vowed obedience and care, till death did them part.
Impatience in a lover was generally considered a good thing. Given that Mr. Darcy had at no point acted in the manner of an ordinary courting gentleman — except perhaps last night, when he came into her bedroom — Elizabeth thought that if she had been in his position, she would have tried to prolong the whole matter as long as she could. Perhaps some accident would have allowed him to avoid the unwanted entanglement, and he clearly had dreaded the prospect of being tied toher.
Elizabeth still stared at her uncle’s door.
Cold sharp wind, overcast sky.
The endless clacking as dozens of carriages and hundreds of busy persons hurried up and down the street. Cawing gulls heard from the river. Newspaper boys shouting in the market. The smell of rotting fish and meat pies.
She liked London and had always liked that Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner were eager to let Elizabeth and Jane be resident with them for a month or two at a time.
Elizabeth took in her hand the cold brass of the knocker. She must look ridiculous.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
It was the presence of her new entourage that made her hesitate.
Mary, who stood behind her, had twice been to the Gardiners’ house before while attending on Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. She was nothing strange.
But the footman in Darcy livery who stood attentively behind, a fine tall specimen of a man, with excellent calves shown off by his breeches and stockings. That was different. The carriage with its fine horses and gold embossing.
She was not Lizzy Bennet come to visit her favorite relations.
