by J Dawn King
Richard took Mrs. Younge’s arm and gently led her to the back of the room. She was there as an observer only.
Mr. Bennet turned to the curate.
“Mr. Simpson, your presence is a surprise this morning. After our discussion with the vicar last night and his staunch opinions as to the propriety of my Lizzy marrying in no less than three days, I cannot imagine you being able to assist us.” Mr. Bennet’s wit was, in spite of the words, delivered with kindness. At the curate’s reply, it became evident that there was a long-standing rapport between the two men.
“I imagine that would be the first thought in your mind, Bennet.” The curate was a well-matched chess opponent who had traded barbs with Mr. Bennet many a time. “What you may not be aware of, my friend, is that the bishop arrived in Meryton this morning and is currently at the rectory. Should you still desire a common license with no banns, both of you men would need to swear that there was no just cause or impediment why Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth could not marry. If this can be done, you may follow me to the chapel and marry this morning.”
He then looked directly at Darcy. “A small donation for these special services would not be remiss, sir.”
“Done!” Darcy’s relief washed over him like the powerful waves of the ocean after a storm. As soon as Wickham and the Bennets could be brought to the inn, all of the players would be in place to head to the chapel. By morning’s end, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esquire, would be a married man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Elizabeth’s mother and younger sisters arrived at the inn, they were accompanied by a young man dressed entirely in black. The July weather in Hertfordshire had been unseasonably warm and the gentleman’s suffering was obvious. He was a tall, heavy looking man of five and twenty. His air was grave and stately and his manners were very formal.
Mrs. Bennet was torn with the early arrival of Mr. Collins. She had, at first, been upset that Lizzy had ruined her plans for marriage to her cousin to secure a home for Mrs. Bennet. Then, she was elated that Lizzy was marrying so well. Mr. Darcy was a wealthy man who had a house in town and could sponsor Kitty and Lydia for a season in London. Then, she was upset because the marriage between Darcy and Lizzy, being such a hurried affair, would interfere with her plans to regale the neighborhood with the importance of Lizzy’s betrothed. Immediately after that thought, Mrs. Bennet was elated that the serious, sweaty clergyman had apparently caught her middle daughter, Mary’s eye. Now, after but thirty minutes in the man’s company, she was again upset, though she could not put her finger on the exact point of contention. Her feathers were ruffled and her cackle carried more volume than usual.
Before introductions could be made, George Wickham was escorted into the already crowded room. His bruised and battered face, with its swollen and purple hued jaw, did nothing to improve his good looks. Wickham had always been vain about what he considered his best features, his patrician nose and his sun-kissed blonde curls. While these were untouched, the gaping hole where his right front tooth had been was barely noticeable with his upper lips swollen and red. It was a far different appearance to the one Elizabeth had tried to avoid while seated across from him on the lengthy carriage ride from London to Meryton. Darcy had never seen him look so bad.
Richard was rather proud of the strength of his fist until he saw Georgiana. She was just as easy for him to read as her older brother was. The colonel saw hope, then embarrassment, and then horror as Wickham’s appearance registered in her young mind. Richard shook his head that he never did see shame.
He walked over to Wickham and removed him from the grasp of the constable, leading him to the corner where he had left Mrs. Younge.
Colonel Richard Ulysses Frederick Fitzwilliam, second son of the Earl of Matlock, had served under Major-General Arthur Wellesley on the peninsula more than once. He had learned command from the best. It was this man that confronted Wickham and Mrs. Younge.
“Let me tell you what will happen in the next few minutes.” He whispered so only they could hear. “Darcy and Miss Bennet are to marry. You,” he pointed his beefy index finger right between Mrs. Younge’s beady eyes, “will sit with Miss Darcy as if none of the events of yesterday ever took place. And you,” he was unsurprised when Wickham backed up as far as he could with Richard still retaining his hold on Wickham’s arm, “are here to witness the wedding of your childhood friend.” He glanced between them both, making sure he had their full attention. “Word has already gone out that the reason you departed Ramsgate so quickly was to arrive in Meryton for that specific purpose. This will nullify any rumors of an elopement. If I had my way, you both would be on a slow transport to Australia. However, Darcy does not like disguise, so if he needs people to know that you came to support him on this most happy occasion, then you both will say so. Am I understood?”
Both Wickham and Mrs. Younge nodded.
“Furthermore, with these facts already being spread, neither of you will be able to profit from trying to blackmail Darcy. And know this: any attempt at such a thing on your part will result in the both of you standing trial for theft of a lady’s reticule and then facing me. Is this understood?”
Again, they nodded.
“Lastly, once the nuptials are concluded, you will both be put on a coach to London with the luggage you had when you departed from Ramsgate. Each of you will have twenty pounds. Spend it how you wish. However, if you attempt to contact any of the Darcys for any reason, if you hint that the reason Georgiana was in that carriage with you was for the purpose of an elopement, or if you claim anything about the events of this day other than the happy marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I will hunt you down and personally carve my initials on your forehead— every single one of them.”
Neither was inclined to have a reminder of the colonel permanently marked on their person, so both quietly agreed to the terms offered.
Mr. Collins, feeling his own importance as the esteemed recipient of the patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, puffed up his chest under his sweltering coat and approached Darcy. He had been at Hunsford earlier that year when both Darcy and Richard traveled to Rosings Park to oversee Lady Catherine’s accounts.
“Sir, if I might have a private moment with you? Whatever my cousin has done to entrap you into thinking you need to marry her to save her reputation, I am willing to overlook.” Mr. Collins had grasped his coat lapels, rose up on his heels, taken a surfeit of oxygen in through his nose, and raised that bulbous appendage into the air. He was extremely proud of his Christian forgiveness and was confident that the nephew of his patroness would view matters equally. Miss Elizabeth was beautiful. The form of discipline that immediately came to Mr. Collins’s mind, that of using a strong fist as his father had done, would be a pleasure to enact. It would be good to have such a woman under his control and that of Lady Catherine.
“Mr. Collins, you forget yourself!” Darcy was appalled that this minion of his aunt’s would presume that the error was Elizabeth’s. “You can have no knowledge of the events that are leading up to my marriage and I thank you not to share your opinions of the matter with me or with anyone else, including my aunt. Should you do so, the consequences to you would be most severe.”
“But, sir, what of your engagement to Miss de Bourgh?” Mr. Collins’s self-importance blinded him to the attitude of the man in front of him. “You cannot marry. It has been the intent of my patroness that you be united in marriage at your next visit to Rosings. There is nothing else to be done.”
“I am not, nor have I ever been engaged to be married to my cousin. The thought is as abhorrent to me as it is to Anne.” Darcy stepped closer to Mr. Collins, towering over the tall man. “I will repeat myself just this once. You are not to speak or write of the events of this day to anyone, especially my Aunt Catherine. Am I understood?”
“But, sir!” Mr. Collins could not conceive of keeping information from Lady Catherine. His mind sputtered and spun at the consequences of going against such an a
ugust woman.
Elizabeth watched the interchange with concern. It was imperative that no one other than the Darcys, Colonel Fitzwilliam, her father, Mrs. Younge, and Mr. Wickham learn anything about the events that brought the Darcys to Meryton. Stepping alongside Darcy, she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. She was reassured when she immediately felt him squeeze it to his side.
“Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth looked at the man and quickly compared him to the gentleman standing next to her. One was dense and odious; the other was intelligent and kind. One reeked with sweat, with oily skin and hair; the other smelled of sandalwood and citrus. One cared only for his advantage, while the other sought to protect and give consideration to those under his authority. For Elizabeth, the choice was made even clearer. “I have next to me a man amongst men. His honor would never permit him to go back on a promise. He was free to ask me to be his bride. Therefore, it is with rejoicing that we will be united in wedlock on this day. You can only desire felicity for the nephew of your patroness, can you not? Anything less than that, Mr. Collins, might bring censure upon yourself from the woman you so admire, is this not true? Are we then, to accept your congratulations at this happy event?”
She refused to break eye contact with her father’s cousin. When he raised his nose a bit higher in response to her reasoning, she realised him to be ignorant and unbending. Elizabeth’s goal was to bring peace to the day.
“Again, I ask you, Mr. Collins. Would you be willing to offend both Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom I am given to understand are favorites with their aunt?” Elizabeth did not know whether they were favorites or not. However, it was easy to assume such by the supposed engagement that his aunt supported.
“Miss Elizabeth, I am a man of the cloth who holds an elevated position in society. I would never… no, I could never offend such illustrious personages.” His tone was condescending and his countenance was still one of arrogance. “You are involving yourself in men’s business, something I shall have to train you not to do when we are wed. If you would return to your place beside your father, then Mr. Darcy and I can conclude our conversation.”
While Darcy was seething, Richard was smiling. There was nothing like being told that something was being denied to make a person want it more; a bit like Adam and Eve, a serpent, and a piece of fruit in the Garden of Eden. He watched Darcy and Elizabeth stand as one against the pompous pimple. Yes, it would be a great partnership.
Mrs. Bennet watched her middle daughter as Mary went from admiration of the clergyman to disgust. There would be no attaching Mary to Mr. Collins. Maybe Kitty might be willing to marry him?
Even George Wickham knew not to taunt Darcy’s authority.
“Mr. Collins, by the end of the hour, Miss Elizabeth will be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. You are welcome to attend as the cousin of the Bennet family. If your position with Lady Catherine does not allow you to do so as a quiet observer, then you will not be allowed inside the chapel. There is a constable in the room and Colonel Fitzwilliam has his sword to see that my desires are carried out. I will not move on this.”
Darcy was ready to be done with this. Once the marriage had taken place, it was his hope that Collins did inform Lady Catherine. It would serve their purpose as he was confident that, while he would have to personally face his aunt’s fury, he could count on Lady Catherine to broadcast the error of his ways to all and sundry. The news of his marriage, the letter he wrote to the Ramsgate housekeeper, and the attendance of Wickham and Mrs. Younge to confirm what had been written to the housekeeper, would overshadow any break in propriety by Georgiana.
He looked down at Elizabeth and put his left hand over the one that still rested at his elbow. “Are you ready to wed, Elizabeth?”
It was the first time he had called her by her Christian name. She found that she liked the sound.
“I am, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrow and tilted her head slightly while looking back up at him.
“William.” He whispered at her silent question.
“I am ready, William.”
CHAPTER NINE
The walk to the chapel took place in small groups. Mrs. Bennet had tried to insist that they use the carriages. However, since the journey would only have taken them across the street and down two buildings, that idea was quickly vetoed.
Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Lydia sat in the front row on the bride’s side of the aisle. Georgiana, Mrs. Younge, Wickham, and the constable sat in the groom’s section. Richard could see that his cousin, Georgiana, was uncomfortable with the company. Nevertheless, he thought it would not hurt the girl to suffer their presence. After all, it was because of her actions that the ceremony would take place.
The vicar, the curate, and Mr. Collins were seated directly behind them. It was a testimony to Mr. Collins’s upset at being denied his choice of bride that he elected not to sit with the Bennets. Nobody except him cared.
At the front of the chapel stood the bishop, Mary Bennet, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the groom. Darcy had recognized the bishop from attending dinners at the home of his great-uncle, the arch-bishop. There would be no impediment to the wedding with him officiating. Even Mr. Collins was a bit cowed; but, only a bit.
In the back stood Elizabeth and her father, frantically whispering back and forth to each other.
“This is not the wedding of your dreams, is it Lizzy?” Her father stood holding her hand as tightly to him as Darcy had done earlier.
“It is not.” There was no sense in denying the obvious. “I envisioned Jane standing up with me, wearing her glorious smile and being welcomed by a man whom I had known for longer than one day.” She sighed in disappointment. “Father, why did you push so hard for this?”
It was a question he had expected and it shamed him, briefly, to admit the answer.
“For two and twenty years, your mother has been like a hen who has pecked and pecked at me. Her security has been at the forefront of virtually every conversation we have had. Until last evening, I had not a moment’s peace in my own household. Your Mr. Darcy has promised to purchase a small home here in Meryton for your mother and provide enough for her to live on for her lifetime, thus securing her future.” Even he recognized how selfish that must sound to his beloved second daughter. “You must admit, Lizzy, you are marrying a good man.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say. She had hoped her father’s motive had been her welfare, not his own. It hurt her heart to think that her sisters’ future was still in her father’s hands. At least, by her marriage to Darcy, the desperation to have attachments for Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia would not move him to act as selfishly as he had done with her. For this Elizabeth was grateful.
“Papa, then take me to him now.” She turned to the front of the church and saw her soon-to-be husband standing tall and proud. Elizabeth could not have known that he had only eyes for her. The whole time she had been speaking with her father, he had not removed his gaze from his betrothed. Elizabeth lifted her chin and started walking down the aisle. She never took her eyes from him and did not acknowledge her father when he placed her hand in Darcy’s.
The ceremony proceeded without interruption until the last prayer was said and they were declared Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mrs. Bennet sobbed. Richard grinned so wide that he thought his face might break in two. Georgiana shed a tear or two of relief.
After the register was signed and goodbyes were said, the colonel escorted Wickham and Mrs. Younge to a waiting carriage. He handed them their promised funds and reminded them of the threat of his retribution if they dared to blacken the name of Georgiana Darcy. Richard closed the carriage door and signaled to the driver to proceed. He hoped it would be the last he would see of the miscreants.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet departed Meryton for Longbourn accompanied by their three youngest daughters. It had been Elizabeth’s mother’s wish to provide a lavish wedding breakfast, but she was forestalled by the fact that the only ones outside her family in attendance w
ould be Mr. Collins. The lady refused to provide such rich food to a man who may not end up as her son-in-law.
Mr. Hill, the longtime butler at Longbourn, had received instructions from his master as soon as the time of the marriage had been decided. Thus it was, that a wagon delivered Elizabeth’s quickly packed trunks just as the ceremony had ended.
With them loaded onto the newly rented carriage, the three Darcys and Colonel Fitzwilliam headed south to Darcy House in London. They had only just pulled out from in front of the inn when Parker arrived in the Darcy’s coach. Little time was spent in resting the team before they all were on their way.
It was quiet inside the coach. Only the clopping of the horse’s hooves, the jangle of the harnesses, and the grinding of the wheels over the packed dirt road broke the silence.
Elizabeth looked across the carriage at the men. Colonel Fitzwilliam had to be sweltering in his uniform and his longing gaze outside the window indicated his desire to be atop his horse which had been tied to the back of the carriage. Her husband… how odd that sounded… was looking between her and his sister. He, too, must have been uncomfortable in the clothing layers that society demanded a gentleman wear in good weather or in bad.
