Mr Darcy's Proposal

by Martine Jane Roberts

  Reverend Muir had at first been opposed to conducting a wedding ceremony outside and so far away from the sanctified ground of the church. However, a sizable donation from the bridegroom, enough to repair the church roof, purchase and install a new church organ, and money in the bank to refurbish the rectory, soon had the rector extolling the virtues of an outdoor wedding.

  Noticeable by their absence, was Lady Catherine De Bourgh and her daughter Anne. Mr Collins, however, had managed to smuggle out of Rosings, a brief note passed to him by Miss Anne De Bourgh.

  It read;

  My Dear Mrs Darcy,

  Please accept my best wishes for both

  you and my cousin on this most joyous

  of days. Feel assured that I bear you,

  nor Fitzwilliam, any animosity.

  Our match was never to be.

  It was never his intention,

  nor my desire, to marry each other.

  I hope, sometime in the future,

  you will invite me to visit you

  both at Pemberley.

  Until such a time is possible,

  Your new cousin,

  Anne De Bourgh

  These few lines, penned by Miss De Bourgh, touched Elizabeth deeply. With her marriage to Darcy, she had likely condemned Anne to the life of a spinster. It was a sobering thought.

  Standing before Reverend Muir, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet made their vows.

  “…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, for so long as you both shall live; according to Gods Holy law?”

  “I do” they both said.

  “…therefore, I pronounce them husband and wife.”

  Taking Elizabeth’s’ hand, he placed it in Darcy’s’ and closed the ceremony.

  “Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen.”

  Self-consciousness of the number of people watching them, Darcy placed a light, chaste kiss on Elizabeth’s’ lips.

  “Is that the best you can do, Darcy? Kiss her man!”

  Darcy knew it was Richard calling out.

  Smiling down at his new bride, with her face aglow with love and her lips curved into an enchanting smile, Darcy was unable to resist the magnetic pull of her eyes, those beautiful, mysterious eyes. It was an invitation he no longer needed to resist.

  Darcy slowly, he slipped his arms around Elizabeth’s waist, and then in one deliberate move, he pulled her close.

  Then, oblivious to their surroundings, and with eyes, thoughts and love only for each other, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy sealed their marriage with a deep and passion-fuelled kiss.

  Epilogue

  Wickham had a new focus for his wrath, Captain Wilberforce. Compared to Wilberforce, Darcy, and his vile cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were harmless simpletons.

  Wilberforce was cruel, just for the pleasure of it. Once he knew Wickham had a fear of heights, he took great pleasure in sending him up to the crow’s nest at every opportunity. Although scrubbing the decks was just as bad. His hands were chapped, and his knuckles were split from the cold and constant exposure to saltwater and soap.

  For the third time that day, Wickham hung his head over the starboard side of the ship and lost the contents of his stomach. Not that it mattered much, the food was appalling, and the rum was no better. Wickham was a wine and brandy man and had no taste for beer and rum.

  His fine suit of clothes has soon been confiscated and a rough clothed uniform issued to him. It chaffed his skin, and his feet ached from wearing the flat canvas deck shoes, also issued to him. He suspected his clothes and boots had been sold and the money pocketed by the boson, but he had learned quickly to keep his opinion to himself.

  Though sleeping below deck in a hammock was surprisingly comfortable, all things considered. Even though it was December, the overcrowded sleeping quarters meant that at least it was warm, unlike on deck, where the biting cold wind seeped through the fibres of his clothes and attacked his skin with relish. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was exhausted.

  Wickham’s only consolation was that the voyage should only last twenty-five days. The ship was heading to Boston, and once there, he intended to jump ship and make his way inland. If he never saw the ocean again, it wouldn’t bother him. Besides, he was confident the ladies there would be most receptive to a gentleman from the homeland. And, if things went his way, he could be married to some rich American before the winter was over.

  Charles Bingley had managed to return to Longbourn just in time to see his friend Darcy marry Miss Elizabeth. Though it had been a close call.

  Once he and Caroline had arrived in Scarborough, Charles had wasted no time in calling in a physician to assess Caroline’s physical and mental condition.

  Being a no-nonsense northern gentleman, he came straight to the point, telling Charles that, A period away from society, with complete quiet, and maybe a little bit of hard work, will do her a power of good.

  “In my opinion, Miss Bingley has a surplus of yellow bile. Her humour’s need to be restored, and quickly, or it could be the mental institution for her,” the doctor had said in his practical way.

  Nevertheless, it still came as a shock to Charles, when his sister had suggested she spend a few months with the nuns at the convent of St Agnes. The order observed strict silence, daily prayers and encourages visitors to participate in serving the community.

  Caroline Bingley had decided she couldn’t stand to be in the company of men for a moment longer than she had to be. But the only place she knew she could truly be isolated from them was in a convent. It would do. Besides, as she was just visiting, and not taking holy orders, she only had to commit to being there for six months at a time. One flunky bringing her tea in the morning was much the same as another. How hard could it be?

  Once Mr & Mrs Darcy had left on their honeymoon, Charles and Jane had wasted no time in planning their wedding. They had decided on a spring wedding. It meant Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would be back, and able to attend, plus, all the time, money and effort Mrs Bennet had expended in arranging Elizabeth’s wedding, would not be wasted.

  So, Jane was happy, Mrs Bennet was happy, and Mr Bingley was deliriously happy.

  Only Mr Bennet felt any displeasure at the thought of Jane’s marriage. He had already lost his Lizzy, and once Jane had gone too, who would keep him company then? There was, he decided, very little prospect of any intelligent conversation once Jane had moved away.

  Mind you, he thought, Kitty had been following Jane around more than Lydia since the event that no-one mentioned. Perhaps there was hope for him, and her, yet.

  On the Pemberley estate, two of the unused cottages had been converted into one large dwelling, in preparation for the arrival of its new tenant.

  Furnished and equipped for direct use, there was nothing for the tenant to do but move in and make it their own.

  An elderly lady greeted Sarah and the children.

  “I am Mrs Reynolds, Sarah. Mr Darcy has told me all about you and the young ones.”

  Mrs Reynolds took them into the house. The children, all seven of them, sat on the floor, frightened to move or speak.

  Mrs Reynolds addressed Sarah.

  “Now, I have arranged for cooked meals to be sent up three times a day for the first week, just while you find your feet and get settled. Jessie will come and help you clean and change the beds once a week. As there are so many of you, Mr Darcy has said all the laundry can go to the wash house next to the buttery. There is plenty of linen in the cupboard so you won’t have to wait for its return. Is that clear?”

  “Yes Ma’am,” replied Sarah as she bobbed a curtsy.

  “Tomorrow, I will take you into town and have you all measured for one set of Sunday best clothes and two sets of work clothes each. From Monday, the children are to attend the Pemberley Tennant’s School. Can you read and write, Sarah?”

  “No, Ma’am,” she said meekly. />
  “Well, I’ll speak to the master about that. You will all attend church on the Lords day and bible classes once a week. Now, is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “I…what will Mr Darcy want from me in return? No-one does nice things for nothing.”

  Mrs Reynolds looked at the young woman. Only eighteen years of age and already so cynical.

  “Your loyalty, Sarah, nothing else.”

  With the door closed, and the children off exploring, Sarah pinched herself, and then again. Only a month ago she had no dreams, no prospects and no hope. Her only thoughts were how to feed the children and how to avoid Mrs Younge’s wrath. Now, everything had changed. They were on the cusp of starting a new life, in a beautiful place with food and clothes and no stick on their backs.

  Not knowing where the church was, Sarah fell to her knees and thanked God for their good fortune.

  Lydia Bennet physically shuddered every time she let her mind wander in the direction of George Wickham. Since returning to Longbourn, she had often thought of what might have befallen her had Mr Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam not rescued her from what she now realised would have been a fate worse than death. Previously, her mamma had encouraged her to enjoy herself in the company of the officers, but there was no denying that her elopement has shocked even Mrs Bennet.

  Once things had returned to normal after Lizzy’s wedding, Lydia had tried to follow in Jane’s and Lizzy’s footsteps, but it was a struggle. Reading books, sewing samplers and practising on the pianoforte was very boring, but with Mary’s help, she had progressed in all areas.

  However, since the Reverend Muir had become a frequent visitor to Longbourn on the pretext of discussing church matters with Mr Bennet, Mary had not been as ready to spend time with her as she did discussing sermons with the preacher.

  So, Lydia now spent at least some of each day with either Maria Lucas or her Aunt Philips, who was very much like her own Mamma.

  Indeed, her Uncle Philips had a very nice clerk working in his solicitor’s office…

  The spot Darcy had chosen for them to honeymoon, was idyllic. Having discovered that Elizabeth desired to visit the lake district someday, he immediately arranged for them to hire a small cottage overlooking Lake Windermere.

  It was located high enough to be isolated and off the usual tourist route, yet not so high or remote as to suffer from severe weather conditions or curtail their love of walking.

  With the town of Ambleside only a mile away, he had also lodged a few of his trusted servants in the local tavern. In their usual fashion, these faithful retainers were discreet and invisible, while looking after their master, and his new wife.

  To all intents and purposes, the young couple were honeymooning alone.

  Peering around the sitting room door, Darcy was not surprised to find his new bride, sat in front of the glowing fire.

  “Come, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, and patted the space next to her.

  Joining Elizabeth on the floor now seemed as natural to Darcy as breathing. With no business to tend to, no events to attend and no people to talk to, they had spent the last weeks becoming more familiar with each other, and not just in the biblical sense.

  They had spent time discussing literature and their favourite authors. What foods they each liked…and disliked. They discussed plays and operas, and music and composers, ballets and recitals, anything and everything. Next, they discussed their childhood, their parents their siblings, and even Wickham. Where fate would take him and whether he could overcome his hatred of Darcy.

  It was a time to expand their bonds of humble and mutual affection, with no distraction but their love. And that love had indeed, distract them.

  Twisting to lay his head in Elizabeth’s lap, Darcy closed his eyes and enjoyed Elizabeth’s ministrations as she gently stroked his hair.

  At length, Darcy said,

  “I never knew such happiness existed, until I met you, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth bent down and placed a soft kiss on his brow.

  “Even though you thought I was not handsome enough to tempt you,” she teased.

  Darcy opened one eye and looked up at her.

  The curve of her lips told him she was teasing, and he replied in kind.

  “Mrs Darcy, will you never cease reminding me of my one, inappropriate remark? You know very well I only said it to shut Bingley up. It was a hot night, the room was crowded, and I knew no-one.”

  “Oh, so it was nothing personal?”

  For the umpteenth time, Darcy patiently explained.

  “I was instantly drawn to you Elizabeth, but I was not wife hunting. I had only agreed to join Bingley at Netherfield, so I could be free from the Mamma in town, who were constantly trying to marry me off to one of their simpering and insipid daughters. Besides, the attraction I felt for you was a new sensation for me. It scared me. To know someone could make my heart race, with just one glance.”

  Elizabeth bent and kissed him again.

  “I made your heart race, Fitzwilliam?”

  “You did, you know you did,” Darcy said, looking up at her lovingly.

  “One glance of those beautiful eyes, and I was lost, Elizabeth. I fought it at first. Men like me do not believe in love at first sight. But that was what it was; only I was too blind or too stubborn to recognise it. I was back in London by then, but once I acknowledged the depth of my feelings for you, everything fell into place. I couldn’t wait to see you again. So, I rushed back to Hertfordshire, anxious to know your feelings…and that I might be near you. I dreamed, no I hoped, that I might have a chance to win your love.”

  Elizabeth let a ripple of laughter escape her as she recalled their first meeting on his return to Hertfordshire.

  “Yes, I remember. You threw yourself at my feet.”

  Darcy loved to hear her laugh. It was sweet and genuine and melodic.

  He smiled up at her, watching as she allowed her happiness and mirth to shine, enjoying her relaxed and easy demeanour. How far they had come in just a few weeks. How much they had both grown, and shared, in that time. If Darcy had believed in soul mates, then Elizabeth was his.

  Looking up into her face, the light from the flames reflecting in her eyes, he asked,

  “And you, Elizabeth? When did you begin to love me?”

  Elizabeth stopped laughing. The time for pretence and subterfuge was long gone for this couple. Now, they were totally free of all misunderstanding, lies, and secrets.

  “When I stayed at Netherfield with my sister, I still had not fathomed you out. A rich, desirable and eligible man who surrounded himself with the likes of Caroline Bingley and the Hursts. One minute you were vocal and affable, the next you were withdrawn and sullen. Slowly, I began to warm to you. Then my mother happened. I watched as she exposed herself to the room that day. Her condescension and rudeness, tumbling from her mouth. I was ashamed. I expected you could cut her with just a few words, but you did not. Rather than engage her or belittle her, you walked away. I watched as you shut yourself off, retreating behind the façade I came to know so well. Finally, much later, I understood. Your silence was your protection.”

  “But you did not love me until much later?”

  “No…like you, my guard was up. Mine because of Wickham and yours…well, I expect we all seemed very provincial and dull to you. But gradually, your kindness, your patience and your devotion chipped away at…my shield, I suppose. You had been honest with me about Wickham, even though I questioned your integrity…your very honour, at the Netherfield ball. And at first, when you proposed, I did not want it to be true. My opinion of you was still so full of errors and flaws. Yet, you came to me and wooed me. Gradually, my head allowed my heart to open up and let my feelings grow and blossom into the love and admiration I feel for you now.”

  “Many things conspired against us from our first meeting. Wickham, Miss Bingley, Lydia, your family, my aunt.” Darcy said, acknowledging the many obstacles they had overcome to be toge
ther.

  “Yes, your pride,” replied Elizabeth in a tease.

  “And your prejudice,” retorted Darcy with a smile.

  “But now, Fitzwilliam, I love you with all my heart. I could not imagine myself being married to any other man, then you.”

  Her new husband’s face glowed as she openly declared the depth of her feelings for him.

  “And now you have me forever, to love and to cherish until death do us part,” she said brightly.

  Darcy smiled. Her love had grown gradually, steadily increasing as he revealed more of his character to her, emotionally, mentally, and now physically. Such a love he was sure could only continue to grow. As for him? His love for Elizabeth was bound into the very fabric of his heart. Every bone, muscle, sinew, and tendon in his body throbbed with love and admiration for the woman he now called wife. Fate had brought them together, and he was confident that destiny would keep them together. He would never, could never, love anyone other than Elizabeth.

  Looking up at her soft, red, cupid bow lips, slightly parted and inviting, Darcy said.

  “Yes, till death do us part, Elizabeth, but for now, I prefer to concentrate on the to love and to cherish.”

  Darcy gently pulled her next to him the floor, and Elizabeth went willingly into his arms, eager to ignite and share in the passion they sparked in one another.

  Making love, loving each other, living together, loving together, exploiting their mutual adoration and relishing in their freedom to express that love in both an emotional and physical way.

  Their love, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s love, would last not only for a lifetime but for eternity and beyond.

  The End