Page 81 of A Different Impression

“Perhaps I might remain until you leave for Pemberley,” Mary said at last. “I need not decide about accompanying you there immediately.”

“You need not,” Elizabeth assured her. “Enjoy your visit first. Longbourn will continue to stand without you for a fortnight.”

“I hope so,” Mary replied, although her smile suggested that she wished to believe it.

Elizabeth took her hand. “And when the time comes to consider what follows, remember that Papa cannot expect you to remain with him for the rest of your life. You may eventually wish to marry or establish a home of your own.”

Mary shook her head. “I do not believe marriage is likely for me, Lizzy. I have always supposed that I would remain at Longbourn and care for Papa.”

Elizabeth wondered whether Mary truly desired that future or had merely repeated the expectation until it had begun to feel like a choice.

“Whatever you decide later, you will always have a place with us,” she said, pressing her sister’s hand.

When it was time to dress for dinner, Jane offered to accompany Mary upstairs. Elizabeth watched them leave before seeking the housekeeper to confirm that everything was ready for the evening. Mary’s quiet resignation remained with her, however. It appeared that her father had not changed his habits so much as transferred the burdens Elizabeth once carried onto another daughter.

In reasonably short order, everyone residing at Darcy House, except Elizabeth’s father, had gathered in the drawing room dressed for dinner. When the Gardiners arrived, William quietly instructed a servant to search for Mr Bennet, suggesting that the man begin in the library.

Her father entered a short while later, wearing an expression that suggested he resented being disturbed. He went directly to William without acknowledging any of the daughters he had not seen in several months.

Before Elizabeth could dwell upon the slight, the Matlocks were announced with Richard and Mr Bingley. Once the necessary introductions had been performed, William caught Elizabeth’s eye. At her smile, he reached for her hand and cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“There is one matter we wished to share before dinner,” he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. “Elizabeth and I are expecting our first child in the autumn.”

For a moment, the room was silent before congratulations broke out around them.

Mary was among the first to reach Elizabeth. “Oh Lizzy, how wonderful,” she said, embracing her carefully. “I am so pleased for you both.”

Jane and Kitty quickly joined her, whilst Georgiana threw her arms around her brother before turning to Elizabeth. Lord and Lady Matlock offered their congratulations, and Richard clapped William upon the shoulder with obvious delight.

Elizabeth looked towards her father. Some part of her had still hoped the news might draw from him a glimpse of the affection she remembered.

“Well, Lizzy,” he said at last, with a slight smile. “It appears Darcy has wasted little time in securing the succession.”

The remark was not unkind, precisely, but neither was it what Elizabeth had hoped to hear. Before she could decide how to answer, William’s hand tightened around hers.

Once the excitement had subsided, the guests separated into smaller groups. Elizabeth and William circulated together, attending to their duties as host and hostess.

Eventually, they approached her father. Elizabeth felt herself tense, and William’s hand settled reassuringly against her back.

“You have a rather exceptional library,” her father remarked to William without once glancing in Elizabeth’s direction or saying more about his coming grandchild. “I believe I could spend weeks in such a magnificent room.”

Before William could answer, Elizabeth interjected, “We are both very fond of it, although the library at Pemberley surpasses even this one.” If her father meant to admire her home whilst ignoring its mistress, she would at least remind him that the library belonged to them both.

Some part of her still longed to add that he would be welcome at Pemberley. He was her father, and once she would have issued the invitation without hesitation. But his interest appeared fixed upon what her marriage might allow him to enjoy rather than upon seeing his daughter. She would not reward his indifference by pretending it had caused her no pain.

“Ah,” her father replied, turning back towards William. “Perhaps I shall see it for myself one day. Your relations have had a great deal to say about Pemberley’s library.”

“My wife determines whom we invite to our estate,” William said, his voice cool enough that Elizabeth recognised his displeasure. “Perhaps you should speak to her.”

Her father chuckled. “A wife may issue the invitation, but surely she does so at her husband’s bidding. Besides, my daughter would never expect me to wait upon the formality of an invitation.”

His words stung. Even within her own household, her father assumed that her wishes must yield to William’s—as though she possessed no authority over whom she welcomed into her own home.

“I would never command Elizabeth to invite anyone against her wishes,” William replied. “If you desire an invitation, sir, I suggest that you address your daughter.”

With unmistakable deliberation, William offered Elizabeth his arm and escorted her towards the Matlocks. As they moved away, she remained conscious of the silence behind them and caught, from the corner of her eye, her father’s arrested expression.

Gratitude warmed Elizabeth, although it was mingled with mortification. She knew William had pressed the point deliberately—not because he believed her incapable of speaking for herself, but because he meant to rebuke her father for addressing him whilst treating her as though she possessed no authority in her own home. She would not have wanted her husband to fight her battles in her stead, but that was not what he had done. He had supported the position she had already taken and made it clear that he would not permit her father to disregard her.