Col. Fitzwilliam could not stay, but had business to attend to. He ordered a carriage for them, and ensured that they would not miss the next post.
Elizabeth took a plate of bread and cold cheeses and meats, and a glass of wine. The cheeses were Cheddar and Stilton, and Wensleydale with apricots, the landlord told her proudly; they had had some Brie, but the dog had eaten it. The meat was good English roast beef. Elizabeth did not attend to the wine.
The difference between French and English mores was already beginning to jar in her. She missed the liberty of walking in the street alone; already a few looks had been cast her way before she remembered.
The carriage driver gave the quarter-hour warning. Elizabeth finished her meal, and saw that all the bags were loaded up. They climbed inside. Elizabeth sat next to her sister. They were off.
For the first hour, she did her best to pretend to sleep. She did not want to talk to her sister, or Wickham; she did not want to talk to anyone. Lydia and Wickham kept up a steady conversation.
"It is a great relief this war is back on," Mr. Wickham said. "There will be many opportunities for commissions – a man can make his fortune. Perhaps we shall even return to France."
Elizabeth's blood ran cold at the idea of Wickham sailing back to France intent on destruction. He would tear the beautiful towns and cities to pieces. Of course, it was better than the French doing so to the English – an invasion by sea would be terrible – but Elizabeth could not bring together in her mind the image of France as the terrible enemy, and the country she had come to know over the past few weeks.
The post stopped at Stamford Hill, at Tottenham, at Enfield, at Cheshunt. At every stop, a small post bag was unloaded, and a slightly larger one taken on. Elizabeth thought of trying to count the letters that must be flying across England: some of them to London, and even further.
They were lucky to have got out of France when they did, of that there was no question. Some English travellers may still be prisoners for heaven knew how long. But Elizabeth could not help but feel a longing for the golden days she had spent there – even if at the time they had felt like a trial. The rest of the journey to Longbourn was swift and silent, and before she knew it Elizabeth was bundled into her mother's arms.
Her father sat drinking in the library. When the carriage unloaded, there was a great tumult. The arrival of newly wed Lydia, on the heels of expectation of her loss, was greeted with as much adulation as if Mr. Wickham were the Prince Regent and Lydia had been the little princess. Mr. Wickham was feted, and made welcome. The fattest chicken was butchered, and set to roast. Elizabeth was chided for not sending advance word, never mind that there had been no time to write – and they would likely have beaten a letter there, if it had come to a race.
When the loss of Louise was uncovered, the upbraiding of Elizabeth became more severe. What was Mrs. Bennet to do? It was so difficult to find a really good house maid; her touch with the girls' hair had been incomparable; none of the girls would ever find husbands, without Louise's expert touch of glamour to help them; if they died spinsters and penniless, it would be Lizzy's fault, and hers alone.
Elizabeth was not able to defend herself against this, half dead with exhaustion. At the first opportunity, she slipped upstairs to the little bedroom she shared with Jane, and lay on her back on the bed, too tired to even undress herself.
After a few moments, Jane came in, and softly closed the door behind her.
"You must not mind Mother, she is being her usual self, of course," Jane said. "I hope you are well, Lizzy."
Elizabeth could make no answer. What answer was there?
"It has been a strange time," she said.
"I hope you will tell me about it."
"I will – when I can imagine thinking," Elizabeth said.
Jane came and sat by Elizabeth on the bed, and smoothed her hair away from her face. Elizabeth closed her eyes, under her sister's cool fingers.
"You must truly be affected," Jane said, attempting levity. "I have not heard you laugh for fully an hour. It is the first time since, I think, you were born."
Elizabeth did not answer; she was asleep, stays on and all.
Chapter 40.
Lady Catherine sat on the sopha at Rosings, fanning herself. The air was very still.
It was a month since Darcy had returned from France, and although he had been drafting and redrafting a letter in his head, he had not been able to find the way to put pen to paper. Merely to enquire about Miss Bennet's health seemed trivial; the things he wanted to say, he wished to say in person.
His aunt had demanded a late summer social call, and Darcy had travelled to Kent for a week's stay. He began to regret it the moment he rode through the gate, when Lady Catherine flew out to meet him, with one breath praising his bravery and with the other cursing the perfidious and double-tongued French. This continued all through dinner, and coffee, and early evening port and brandy.
"I cannot believe you made it home alive," Lady Catherine repeated. "Really! It is a marvel the Jacobins did not tear you limb from limb."
"Bonaparte is hardly a Jacobin," Darcy said dryly.
He missed Richard. His cousin was on another mysterious mission – Darcy hoped in a good cause – leaving him to field Lady Catherine alone.
"Come, Anne," Lady Catherine said imperiously.
Anne scooted doubtfully forward on her chair.
"Look," Lady Catherine said. "Does she not look well? The bloom of health is on her face."
"What do you think, Anne?" Darcy said. "Are the French all Jacobins?"
Anne's flitted from face to face, folding and unfolding her hands anxiously. "I – I do not know what I should think," she said.
Darcy stood. Lady Catherine recoiled at this great rejection of her hospitality. "You do not mean to leave us?" she said.
"I do." Darcy bowed. "I have a matter of great import that cannot wait."
If he could not find the words to write to Miss Bennet in a letter, there was only one course of action left to him. If he hurried he could travel the first part of the way tonight.
Chapter 41.
Day by day, Elizabeth returned to her life as it had been. She found the news of renewed fighting on the Continent distressing, but could not help but look for newspapers when she was in Meryton; it was like reading dispatches from distant friends.
And there was much at home to be getting on with. Jane's wedding to Mr. Bingley was imminent, and no sooner had the arrangements been fixed for that, but the news came that Charlotte's baby had been born, and the Collinses were returning to Lucas Lodge for visit. Mrs. Bennet was so keen to meet the child that would one day replace her at Longbourn that she rounded up the girls, and set off first thing that morning, and arrived even before the guests of honour.
"Charlotte!" Elizabeth ran to her friend's carriage. Mr. Collins sat proudly in the driver's seat, his wife beside him. Their child was carried snugly on her lap.
The day was cloudy, but no drop of water had fallen from the sky; nevertheless, the whole Lucas clan was out with shawls and blankets to shield the infant from any potential hint of rain.
"Oh, what a dear!" Lady Lucas exclaimed. It was her first grandchild, with all the attention and fuss that that entailed. It was a full five minutes of handing and fussing, and checking that her blanket was tucked securely, before the child was carried safely into Lucas Lodge, trailed anxiously by her doting papa.
Inside, Elizabeth sat between Jane and Mary as the Lucases served tea. She sipped the comforting drink and listened to Mr. Collins describe the wonder of their child.
"And, goodness, Miss Elizabeth, you have been far!" Sir William said. "To France and back!"
Elizabeth laughed, and attempted to change the subject. The adventure was still jostling in her brain and she did not like to speak about it. She had attempted to set it down in a letter, or a diary, but it came out all jumbled. All of the stress and adventure of their f
light across the country - the strange friendliness and the welcome of strangers - and somehow more disconcerting than any of this, her interlude with Mr. Darcy - was rustling and unsettled in her heart.
But Sir William did not pick up the thread she had dropped, and Charlotte, attending to a sudden fuss of the child, did not see her friend's distress, and intervene.
"I hear it is a godless nation," Mr. Collins said disapprovingly. "They have torn down Christ's houses."
"I have heard such things were done in the Revolution, but we saw many churches and cathedrals," Elizabeth said. "Those who worship in the Christian faith have returned to doing so. Indeed, we happened to pass a cathedral as Mass was being sung, and very beautifully." Though Elizabeth had meant this to be reassuring, it was not the correct answer, for it was not at all clear that atheism was not worse than Roman Popery in the eyes of Mr. Collins. A flutter occurred which was only set to rest after Elizabeth reassured him that she had not eaten the host herself, nor been blessed by any priest, nor smelled any kind of incense or touched any unguents whatsoever.
Though Elizabeth was glad to see Charlotte's child, she was soon taxed by the company, and Mrs. Bennet was weary too; the Bennets extricated themselves, and squeezed into their carriage.
Charlotte handed the baby to her husband, and saw Elizabeth to the gate.
"How are you, Charlotte, truly? Are you well?"
"I am," she said, smiling.
"Then I shall leave it at that," Elizabeth said, and lifted herself into the carriage, and seated herself between her sisters.
When they returned to Longbourn, a servant ran out to greet them.
"You have returned!"
"What an observant girl," Mr. Bennet muttered. "Truly a gem. Wherever did you find her, Mrs. Bennet?"
Mrs. Bennet was about to give a detailed description of her search for a replacement maidservant, when she was interrupted.
"A gentleman, ma'am, has been here these three-quarters of an hour," the maid said. "He asked where you was, and I said I didn't know – "
"We have been at Lucas Lodge, as anyone could tell you," Elizabeth said almost irritably.
"He asked when you would be back, and I said I didn't know – "
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mr. Bennet said. "Tell him to stand down, we are here directly."
"That's the thing, sir, he said he would leave straight off – "
"Well tell him to wait for five bloody minutes – "
A familiar voice cut across Mr. Bennet's harangued tones, one that made Elizabeth's heart flip. "I have been waiting – but I do not mind, I shall wait a while longer."
Elizabeth turned. "Mr. Darcy," she said.
He was smiling at her with the warmth of the June sun.
"Miss Bennet."
"Mr. Darcy!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Why are we speaking of that rude man? Why, Lizzy, you once told me – "
"Mama, the gentleman is here!" Elizabeth interrupted in a panic.
"I am," said the gentleman, "and half parched." He reached up to hand her down from the carriage. "Might I have the privilege of seeing your wine cellar?"
"It is not a cellar, it is only a few bottles in the larder," Mary said irritably.
"Hush," Jane said sharply. It was so out of character for her usually sweet disposition that the whole family turned to stare; and by that time, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were walking away.
Chapter 42.
Elizabeth led Mr. Darcy around the other side of the house, to the herb garden, hardly knowing where they were going. She picked a stem of rosemary and rolled it in her fingers, crushing the leaves and releasing the bright scent to the air.
Elizabeth began to speak at the same time as Mr. Darcy.
"I do not know what to say," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. "All I have to say is this – I cannot think of anything but you when you are apart from me, and now that I am with you, I still cannot think of anything but you."
Now and then in the month after their adventure, Elizabeth had dared think of Mr. Darcy, sometimes in an action very much like this; but now that he was here in front of her, saying such words, she found her response trapped halfway between her heart and her mouth.
"I have been thinking – never mind," Mr. Darcy continued. "You will like Pemberley – you will like Georgiana, I earnestly hope. Would you like to bring your sister to stay? She would be more than welcome. Jane," he hastily clarified, a sudden alarm on his face, "I mean your sister Jane."
Elizabeth laughed, but that was all she could do; the significance of the offer before her was difficult to contemplate. She could only look at it sideways, like the sun. She said the first thing that came into her head.
"I want a book club," Elizabeth said.
Mr. Darcy stared at her in a cross between total admiration and utter dismay.
"…There is a library at Pemberley," he said, "with hundreds of books."
"I would like to discuss them with friends," Elizabeth said. "Clever friends."
"We can invite whomever you like," Mr. Darcy said. "I would leave the social arrangements entirely in your hands."
"I want – " Elizabeth thought. "I would like a salon. I would like a tutor to learn French properly. I would like to know that you are not going to take a mistress." Mr. Darcy looked so appalled and offended at this that Elizabeth, gratified, rushed on, "I would like to read the newspapers first, so that I can have an opinion as soon as possible. I would like to talk to you about what is in them, too."
Mr. Darcy looked at her, and back at the house, and ran a hand through his hair again.
"Might I have some wine?" he said. "If I am to negotiate for your hand with you yourself, Miss Bennet, I think I will need it."
Chapter 42.
Though Elizabeth would have been more than happy to see it done in their church, and away, her opinion was nothing. A young bride's never is. The needs of all her family and friends impress on her: her mother's need for a large day to show off just what a fine deal she has made for herself; her sisters' need to meet many young men, of assured good families, on a day with the bloom of love in the air; her husband's need to show his love and care for her above all others.
"It is a somewhat ridiculous dress," Elizabeth said, surveying herself in the mirror.
"Hush! Someone may hear you," Mrs. Bennet said, lightly swatting her shoulder, "and think you ungrateful."
"I am ungrateful," Elizabeth said reasonably. She winked over her shoulder at Jane. "How am I to walk in this?"
Mrs. Bennet pinched her nose and retired, leaving Jane to brush the gown.
"You should not tease her so," Jane said. Only two weeks married herself, Jane had pink roses in her cheeks.
"You look perfectly happy," Elizabeth said in delighted disgust.
"I am," Jane said.
As she approached the church, Elizabeth felt her stomach flutter. It was not nerves, she told herself firmly. It was only that she had not eaten - there had been no time for it, between waking and being roused to dress, to powder, to dress her hair, to do every little thing that a bride must.
The Wickhams sent their regrets; they were engaged with the —th in Newcastle, under the watchful eye of Col. Fitzwilliam's commanding officer. They could not afford the journey down - unless, Lydia hinted, Elizabeth and her fiance might pay for their passage? Elizabeth crumpled the letter; she would perhaps make up with her sister in time, but it was too much to take on now.
One step, then another.
The church was filled with light, in Elizabeth's dress and the wild flowers she wore in her hair.
She hardly tasted the wedding breakfast – though it was spoken of as some of the finest seen in the county.
And at last, the dancing.
Elizabeth was ready – she had spoken with the musicians, under strictest authority as their new mistress. The bandleader nodded to her, and she winked.
Mr. Darcy looked suspicious. But before he c
ould voice it, the music began, and his face creased into delighted surprise. Throwing over the traditional English country hold, he grasped her around the waist and pulled her close. The tune of the waltz curled around them as they spun around the ballroom. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of her mother's baffled face, Caroline Bingley's dismayed one, and Jane's amused one, before spinning again.
"I think we are shocking the whole county," she murmured to her new husband.
"We are the makers of manners," he said, and dipping his head to hers, did something even more shocking.
Soon they would be alone – and after that, a lifetime of dancing.
Historical notes and further reading
The Peace of Amiens was a short period during the Anglo-French Wars (sometimes known as the Napoleonic Wars). The Revolutionary government of France was evolving into the Napoleonic empire, and signed a treaty with Britain while a more lasting peace was negotiated. It seems to have been in good faith on both sides, but fell apart suddenly for various and complicated reasons. English tourists were indeed arrested, to the outrage of the international community.
I realised last week that the 100th anniversary of the 1918 Armistice that ended the Great War falls next month. This was not consciously in my mind when I wrote this book, but I think the idea of people striving and hoping for peace is one we all share.
Much of my research was done while I was pretending to work on my dissertation, but my favourite sources that are accessible to the lay reader are below:
For Jane Austen's world and the ideas of personal liberty and emancipation, including for women, that the French Revolution brought, Jane Austen and the French Revolution by Warren Roberts. The development of Louise's character was informed by some of the comments in this book.
For Miss Bennet's Honour Page 16
