new book excerpt-The happiest couple in the world

My thanks to all who weighed in a left me little comments on the last. I know some of you have felt apologetic about being not up to the angst you sensed coming in this one, and don’t worry, I totally get that! Some stories just insist on being told, and I had to follow my muse on this one, even knowing it might not be for everyone. My next will be lighter, I promise!

As promised, 3 winners from the last post! They are Jen Red, Susanne Barrett, and Dennissem3. I will be emailing you three!

As a note, this excerpt is NOT exactly consecutive with the bit I gave you before in which the Darcys were going back to London after an Easter visit to Rosings Park. This part is from chapter 3 and Darcy must travel to Pemberley.

Darcy always left with the dawn. Elizabeth, hearing him move about in his dressing room, rose and went to kiss him and bid him a good journey. He kissed her and wished her to keep well until he returned, and dutifully she urged him to hurry back. Then she returned to bed. 

When she rose, later, she first took herself to her desk, whereupon lay all the letters of invitation which had arrived. She shuffled through them, seeing an endless array of parties she did not wish to attend and people she had no wish to see. But she would go. One thing she had grown accustomed to of late was being in town on her own. Saye and Lillian often escorted her about, but Lilly was approaching her confinement, so they would not likely stir. Briefly she considered asking one of her sisters to come to her but discarded the notion almost immediately; she had no stomach for idle shopping and silly conversation. 

In the end, Elizabeth spent the days of Darcy’s absence idly. She ignored a good proportion of her letters, she declined nearly all invitations, she walked at unfashionable times and in unpopular places to avoid people she had no wish to see, and she took her meals on a tray. She did read—quite a number of books, in fact. But that was the whole of it.

It could not last, of course. Eventually, Jane called, and, being very familiar with the ways of the house and the mistress, would not be turned away. Mrs Hobbs came into Elizabeth’s dressing room with the news. “Mrs Bingley has informed me that she knows you are here and does not intend to go away until she sees you.” 

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “You tried telling her I was away?” 

“Her cook saw you walking yesterday morning,” Mrs Hobbs reported.

“Ah.” With a sigh, Elizabeth said, “I guess I shall see her then.” 

A few moments were required for Elizabeth to make herself more presentable; a nicer gown was donned, her hair was pinned up a little tidier, and she had her maid put the faintest hint of colour on her cheeks. Jane was forever fretting about Elizabeth’s pallor. 

When she entered her drawing room, Jane rose immediately, coming to her with a face that was all smiles. “Lizzy!” She kissed Elizabeth on both cheeks and then hugged her tightly. The two sisters then settled in to one of Elizabeth’s favourite sofas—a rose-hued velvet situated perfectly by the window—for some nice sisterly chat. Jane had a litany of concerns over her children. Though she had not inherited Mrs Bennet’s tendency to fret over her own health, she did like to look for trouble in every sniffle or tremor in her two babies, Stephen and Sophie. Elizabeth kept one ear on the conversation—making all the appropriate soothing noises where needed—while the other examined Jane. 

Jane was presently with child, the third time in less than five years of marriage. Her succession of pregnancies had left her soft and round; even her pretty face had taken on the appearance of bread dough slowly rising in its bowl. Her rings cut grooves into her fingers, and she grew winded from the exertion of climbing into a carriage—but she was happy. 

With a little shake of her head, Elizabeth mentally scolded herself for such uncharitable thoughts against her most beloved sister. Jane was still beautiful, and Bingley was as besotted with her as ever, so what did it really matter? Her own trim figure was surely nothing to be pleased with when one considered what it signified.

“Is that a new necklace?” Jane asked, gesturing towards her sister’s neck, where a thick, double strand of  pearls of exceptional quality rested. 

Elizabeth smiled indulgently as she leant over to allow Jane her examination. No one loved jewels like her sister did. “They are exquisite,” Jane breathed, reaching out one plump hand. 

“Darcy gave them to me a few days ago. Not really the thing for morning calls, I know, but what is the use of being married to a wealthy man if you cannot not make your own rules once in a while?” Elizabeth forced a little chuckle.

“A few days ago?” Jane leaned towards Elizabeth, her face kindly in a way Elizabeth knew meant trouble. “Why?” 

Elizabeth’s heart skipped a little, but outwardly she remained calm. “Just because. He does that, as you know.” 

“Yes, of course.” Jane leaned back and studied her sister pensively. “I believed he was gone to Pemberley.” 

“He is.” Elizabeth rose from her seat and went to the window, peering out at a blue sky. “They were left on my dressing table. I suppose he gave them to my maid before he went to Derbyshire.” 

“He did not give them to you directly?”

“No.” Elizabeth could feel Jane’s eyes boring into her back. Her sister used silence in that way, forcing confessions from her; it had worked for years, but Elizabeth was determined to resist.

“Perhaps they are an apology?” Jane prodded gently. 

Elizabeth shrugged, still looking out the window. She could not deny it, not wholly. “Maybe,” she said vaguely. 

Fortunately, Mrs Hobbs entered the drawing room just then, bearing a tray laden with delicacies, and Elizabeth went back to the chair opposite her sister. Cook’s specialty was a lemon-cheese tart and held the centre of the tray, which also included fruit and more coffee. Elizabeth felt her throat clench and her stomach roll at the sight of it all; the sugary decadence felt revolting to her, but Jane’s eyes lit the moment she saw it.

“You must be starved.” Elizabeth put on the smile she thought of as her ‘entertaining-the-ton’ smile and pointed at the table, indicating to Mrs Hobbs where to set the tray. The housekeeper did as bid and served Jane a large piece of the tart, then quietly departed. 

When the door closed behind her, Jane said, “Caroline told me that she saw Darcy near his club on Monday.” She took a bite of the tart and then added, “Two days ago.” 

“Yes, I know when Monday was,” Elizabeth said with deceptive mildness. “Why does your sister-in-law concern herself with the whereabouts of my husband? She ought to be worried about hers. I hear he stays at Almack’s playing cards until all hours of the morning.” 

“Never mind Caroline.” Jane reached out to lay her hand on her sister’s. “Why is Darcy staying at his club?”

“Pray do not plague me with your sister’s gossip because I do not care what she thinks she saw—” 

“Lizzy, sweetest. Please tell me what’s wrong. Perhaps I can help in some way.” 

With that, her silly protestations stopped. Elizabeth felt herself cracking under the strain of Jane’s solicitude. She had no wish to share with anyone the dreadful business of her marriage to Darcy, but the silence had grown too heavy. Her hand shook and trembled under Jane’s, and Jane curled her fingers around it.

“I did not know he was there,” she admitted in a small voice. “But it does not wholly surprise me.”

“No?”

“We… things are not well.”

Jane stayed silent but gently rubbed her hand. 

“He…” Elizabeth began, but her voice cracked, and tears began to spill. “I am a failure, and I despise myself for it, and he resents me because of it.” 

“That cannot be. He loves you, and you know that.” 

“Oh, Jane.” Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “I came to this marriage with nothing, as you well know. In matters of fortune, I was a loss to him. In the matter of connexions and family, I was a degradation. But I always assumed that giving him children would redeem me. A country girl! We all know the jokes; no doubt he expected at least three or four by now.” 

“You and Darcy want only for a bit more time, and I am sure—”

“More time?” Elizabeth laughed bitterly, swiping away her tears. “Jane, we have been married as long as you and Bingley have—nearly five years! You have two children and another on the way!”

Jane sighed, her pretty face creased into worried lines. “Even those who are barren—”

“I am not barren,” Elizabeth interrupted her sharply. “Not wholly, in any case. I was pregnant once that I am sure of. Perhaps there were others that were too early for me to truly know.”

“You miscarried?” 

Elizabeth nodded then rose, suddenly unable to bear being idle. Fortunately, her sewing basket was nearby. She retrieved it then began to rifle through it while she spoke.

“The first and second years of our marriage were… disappointing, to say the least. I admit I was worried about it, fearing that I could not give him the heir he needed. At one time, I spoke to a midwife in Derbyshire to see what could be done for the situation, and she gave me some sort of elixir to drink to help me. It made me dreadfully ill, but I kept at it. She told me it would pass, once I grew accustomed to it.”

“Did it?” 

“Not really,” said Elizabeth. “Though soon enough I hardly minded how awful it was because it seemed to work. Almost immediately my courses ceased, and my bosom—well, it has never been anything to boast of, but it was changed. My maid and I both saw it.”

“And then?” 

“And then I returned to the midwife, and she said… she said it was not to be.” 

“What?” Jane exclaimed. “But the signs—”

“It can happen,” Elizabeth replied with a little sigh. “Evidently, sometimes, when you want it so badly, your body plays a trick on you. A dreadful, cruel trick.”

“Well, I simply do not see how,” Jane declared, reaching for another piece of the tart. “If you mean to tell me that mere wishful thinking can make a woman’s bosom grow, why then I—”

“But, as you see, there is no child,” Elizabeth said patiently. “So clearly, she was right. After that, we decided to give up for a time. Georgiana was engaged by then, and we had plenty to do with seeing to her marriage.” 

Elizabeth found the needlework she wished for and began stabbing and poking the fine muslin beneath her fingertips. “Then, more than a year ago… the Festive Season it was… I lost a child that was… well, it all seemed very certain. Until it was not.”

She had to stop here. Though over a year had passed already, it still affected her deeply to recall the sense of shame and failure and the agony of seeing the disappointment in Darcy’s eyes. 

“The pain was… it was…” Elizabeth inhaled deeply, willing the film of tears which had covered her eyes to dissipate. “Bad. Very bad. However, the worst of it all came later, when I became ill. Fever, chills… They said my body had failed to rid itself of everything, and at one point they told my husband he must call my family and arrange my funeral.”

“Oh, Lizzy.” Jane gasped. “But none of us knew! Why did he not tell us?” 

“I was delirious with fever, so I cannot answer that question. Darcy chose to take it on himself. He was yet mourning his sister’s death, so to see his wife enduring something of like nearly sent him mad. I was too ill to protest, too ill to really even care, if you must know the truth. 

“But he was wonderful to me, utterly devoted to my care. I did not realise it immediately, of course, because I was so very ill, but he would not heed the words of our doctor. He was vigilant, right by my bedside, nursing me through it all. I am, as always, persuaded that it was his love for me which saved my life, which brought me back from the brink of oblivion.” 

“He loves you a great deal. But I do wish I had known. I would have helped you!” 

“You have your own babies to concern yourself with,” Elizabeth told her. “You are needed at home. In any case, he saved me. My recovery was long, but I am perfectly well, although the doctor thinks it unlikely I should ever conceive again.” 

“Lizzy.” Tears welled up in Jane’s eyes as she reached for her sister. “Lizzy, pray do not listen to them. These doctors are all charlatans—”

“We have had every opinion there is to have,” she said. “Some say I cannot conceive. Others say I can but will not carry the child. Darcy thinks if I could only get past my anxiety… but is there anything more anxiety-provoking than someone telling you not to be anxious? In any case, it hardly signifies.”

Her needlework had been forgotten. Elizabeth rose, allowing it to fall onto the floor. She needed to walk, to put some distance between her words and her heart. “My marriage has… It has unravelled. He pays me all the attention that duty requires of him—I can complain about nothing—but there is no affection, no passion, nothing between us like it once was. He never comes to my bed anymore, and he stays elsewhere at times, though I try to keep his home as agreeable as I can. Some days I have greater success than others, to be sure.”

She sank into the closest chair. “Of course, by now, after months, years of this cold existence, things have become more difficult. An argument is always at the ready for us both, making conversation difficult, if not impossible. We both, I believe, look for shades of meaning even if there might not be any. I feel I misunderstand him constantly, and I am sure he feels likewise. He has again become the man I met at the Meryton assembly years ago—reticent, arrogant, and, oftentimes rather unlikeable.”

“And you believe it all stems from your difficulties in childbearing?” 

“Jane, you cannot imagine the strain that being unable to have children places on a marriage.” Elizabeth sighed. “We simply cannot get past it.” 

“Perhaps if you talk to someone else—”

Elizabeth waved her off, watching with fascination as Jane made her way through another slice of the tart. “We have spoken to apothecaries, midwives, physicians… We have tried all of their suggestions, and it has led to nothing.” 

Jane sighed and then very carefully asked, “Do you think he has taken a mistress?” 

A mistress. Elizabeth nearly laughed aloud at the thought. 

“No, I do not, and I pray I am not the sort of wife who is blind and stupid to it, but… I see no signs of it. As you have said, he is at his club, not sidling out from the mews behind some unknown residence.” 

“So what can you do?”

Elizabeth thoughts had moved to her plan, the nascent ideas which had twisted about in her brain since Kent. She looked at her sister and, for a moment, considered confiding in her. But no, Elizabeth’s scheme was so far beyond Jane’s understanding, she could never condone it.

To recap from last time, in case anyone got worried: HEA 2.0 is guaranteed, and for sure, lots of kiddos to come for them! Also no infidelity

Preorder it here: https://geni.us/HappiestCouple