Page 89 of The Widower of Pemberley

The nights when they retired to bed were Elizabeth’s favourite part of the day.

The marital bed brought intense pleasure, a sense of completion, of closeness, and of being approved of. And the smell, weight, and feel of Darcy’s body.

They spoke generally for half an hour or an hour afterwards, before she drifted to sleep.

It was unfortunate, Elizabeth thought, that Darcy always left her bed to sleep in his own. But she was sure that he must be more comfortable that way.

On nights when they did not have other engagements, they read to each other from Shakespeare, essays from the Spectator, or from recent novels.

Elizabeth and Georgiana played music or chess or draughts, they talked about the day, and Elizabeth encouraged Darcy to talk about the estate, about his plans, and about what he had done that day.

While Darcy was invariably silent by habit, if she made the effort to encourage him to talk about matters that he understood and cared about, he could speak at great length.

His words were always intelligent and educated.

She liked his voice, and despite his promise of disinterest in female matters, she thought that he liked to listen to her.

At least if she did not prattle too freely.

What he had said about his first wife and the things he had disliked about her was always present in Elizabeth’s mind, and she went to great efforts to try to act like the wife she believed he wanted.

It could be tiring to always remember.

After the first two weeks at Pemberley, as soon as Elizabeth no longer needed to talk constantly with Mrs. Reynolds and the other servants about everything she did not yet understand about the estate, the Christmas season and its attendant events began.

They were to hold a grand ball to formally introduce her to the neighbourhood, and the preparations for that engaged a great deal of Elizabeth’s limited free time. Every evening for a week they either attended a dinner or held one.

Darcy was kept busy during the days with hunting and shooting, and Elizabeth could see in his manners that though he enjoyed each event he was becoming tired as well.

Each night she sat up late talking to their guests, and then Emily woke her barely after the light dawned the next morning.

Elizabeth had made it clear to Rose, the day after they had arrived at Pemberley, that Emily was to be allowed to come to her rooms at any time she wished.

The girl had woken with the dawn sobbing on the first day and wanted to go to Mama Lizzy, and Rose had prevented her, saying Elizabeth ought to be allowed to wake in her own time.

Of course, Emily was wild beyond all measure about the draped greenery, the plans to collect and burn a yule log, and thegeneral humming air of anticipation throughout the estate that accompanied the festive events at the end of the year.

Day by day Elizabeth found herself more tired, and Sarah had to go to some effort to hide the bags beneath her eyes.

Her maid had gone so far as to hint to Elizabeth that perhaps she ought to only allow Emily into her chambers after the girl had eaten her breakfast on the mornings when she was up late, but Elizabeth had clearly told Sarah that she would do nothing of the sort.

On Christmas Eve, the afternoon and evening were devoted to the great dinner and dance the family had thrown for the tenants since time immemorial. Darcy had explained to her that the practice began when such gatherings were expected and continued even though entertaining one’s tenants in one’s own house became deeply unfashionable.

Emily woke with a blocked nose, and by noon she had a fever and a rare preference for sitting under blankets on a sofa without running about.

The girl was desperate forElizabethto be the one to sit with her, though Darcy was permitted to read to her once from her favourite collection of stories while she sat on Elizabeth’s lap.

Every three minutes Emily exclaimed, “Wet nose!” and she then expected Elizabeth to wipe it for her.

The suggestion that as a great big three-year-old she was capable of providing such a service to herself was rejected as utter nonsense.

“I’m a baby lion!” Emily explained. And then she gave a little roar.

It was so adorable that Elizabeth was convinced to wipe her nose for her again without complaint.

Following that, every time Elizabeth seemed to hesitate to wipe her nose, Emily immediately reminded her that she was in fact an infant member of the species that Linnaeus had classified as ‘felis leo’.

As the afternoon came, Elizabeth found herself unsure what to do.