by Glenna Mason
The caterers arrived and were soon busy setting up tables and chairs. Nanny Lulu, Peter, Amelie, as well as Cook Rosa and her husband Jim and all of Darcy's household and barn staff were guests. Charlie and the guys from Longbourn were likewise honored guests today with Sir William providing some backup so everyone from the Bennet barn was relieved of duty to attend the wedding.
The strings came early and commenced tuning up near the temporary altar rail.
Inside Jane and Elizabeth laid the dress on the bed. “I'd forgotten how magnificent it is,” Jane remarked, casting her memory back to the day she and Elizabeth had laid it out at Longbourn for her own wedding.
“Mrs. Darcy,” a maid, loaned to Elizabeth for the day by Maria, called up the stairs, just as Jane began working with Elizabeth's recalcitrant hair, “there's a special delivery for you.”
“Sign for it and bring it up, Bridget, please,” Elizabeth shouted back.
“Your emeralds or Fitzwilliam's sapphires?” Jane inquired, glancing into the jewelry box.
“Neither. Today for a morning wedding I'm going with Grandmother Bennet's pearls, the necklace and earrings.”
“Of course.”
The maid entered, carrying a package with Claire Evans Carstairs written across the top in bold red letters.
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth gasped. Then remembering the maid, she quieted. “Thank you, Bridget.”
“What is it?” inquired Jane, after Bridget left the room.
“Claire has sent me more chapters of her vile book. I have had Chapters Three and Four since Sir William's party and have eschewed reading them. And now this on my wedding day. She knows too, Jane. This is purposeful!”
“Give me those! What is wrong with that foolish woman?” Jane's lovely countenance distorted into a disapproving sneer.
The wedding was very special and the catered lunch delicious. The children, including Richard's and Gilbert's, played together happily in the yard, supervised by Maria's and Jane's nannies. The adults toasted and chatted. The morning was jovial and convivial. Claire was totally forgotten.
Darcy's reaction when Elizabeth appeared at the top of the garden on her dad's arm was all she could have hoped for, and so she was happy she had had him leave.
“We are married now for sure, Lizzy; a justice of the peace and two ministers can confirm the fact.”
“Yes, indeed, Fitzwilliam. British Isles here we come.”
*****
The couple flew out that very afternoon from the Lexington airport for New York City and a honeymoon suite overlooking the park. They decided to stay through Sunday in NYC and then fly out late Monday afternoon so they could sleep on the plane on the way over to London.
“What is it about the name Honeymoon Suite that evokes the desire to stay in bed?” Darcy joked, as they checked out the evening views from a tenth floor window, his arms loosely wrapped around Elizabeth.
“Room service then, I presume?”
“Whatever your heart desires is my fervent wish.”
“Room service then it is.”
They dined that night in elegance at a table placed in front of the twinkling NYC skyline, toasting with the finest French champagne.
“Happy Bastille Day, my love.”
“And Happy Bastille Day to you!”
They sipped the incredible champagne, its bubbles tickling their noses.
“Wow! The French know how to drink. I've never tasted anything like it.”
“I wonder how the French celebrate Bastille Day,” Darcy said, a definite twinkle in his eye.
“Need you ask, mon ami. They're French!” Elizabeth said, effervescent as the champagne.
“You imp.”
*****
The honeymoon trip was a swirl of incredible experiences. But all too soon it was over. When Elizabeth and Darcy landed at the Lexington Airport, Peter was there to pick them up.
“Welcome home, Dr. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” Peter said, as he took Elizabeth's large suitcase and headed in the direction of the parked car.
“Did everything collapse without us, Peter?” Elizabeth asked.
“Why, no, Dr. Elizabeth. Did you go somewhere?” Peter said. Then he responded more seriously, “Actually, we missed you both very much, but we were pleased that you were having such an adventure together. We waited eagerly for your postcards.”
“Yes. Most of which will arrive now that we are home, Peter,” Elizabeth stated, in an apt description of the reality of travel abroad and post card communication.
Pulling into the long boulevard of Longbourn, Elizabeth suddenly realized how much she had missed its familiar avenue. Elizabeth knew that Darcy felt the same. “I must arrange for us to go to Lancaster in the next day or two,” she thought.
The house came into view. Her family awaited them on the front porch, as did the dogs and cats. Gypsy grazed in the front yard. The Bennets started waving and the dogs barking as soon as the car circled the corner into sight. Elizabeth leaned her head out the window and waved ecstatically. When the car stopped, Darcy rushed out to open Elizabeth’s door, but she beat him to it, springing out to embrace her mom and dad and to receive kisses from her two dogs. She headed for the steps where she embraced Jane, Charles, Kitty and Mary. Elizabeth then left the porch and ran to Gypsy, wrapping her arms around the horse's neck and, pulling out a peppermint, gave Gypsy her expected treat. Hugging her again, she queried, “One more, girl?” and presented a second.
“Fitzwilliam, the gifts,” Elizabeth shouted when she noticed Libby Bell, Millie Kay and Trey come on to the porch with Maria, Gage and Nanny Lulu. The next half hour was spent congenially watching the children open presents and play with them on the floor of the porch. The adults relaxed on the comfortable porch chairs, drinking freshly squeezed lemonade and mint iced tea. The dogs lounged comfortably against Elizabeth's feet, moving with her when she changed positions. They had really missed her. The cats eventually wandered off to—well, be cats.
When Elizabeth finally went up to her bedroom to freshen up after the long plane ride and to change out of traveling attire for cocktails and dinner, she immediately spied the abominable manuscript, Chapters Three and Four, staring up at her from her desk.
“I am elatedly happy now,” Elizabeth informed them. “I can face you with equanimity, and I will first chance tomorrow. I will get you out of my life forever.”
She shuddered when she suddenly remembered Five and Six, happy Jane had them. “I didn't agree to read those,” Elizabeth thought with renewed delight. “Good!” she said aloud.
“What, my darling?” asked Darcy, as he appeared in the doorway.
“I just said ‘good’, my sweetheart. It is good to be home.”
“Yes,” Darcy agreed.
“I loved our trip, but I am such a country girl at heart, so it's good to be back here in our own home—well, one of our own homes,” she said, smiling. Darcy's heart skipped a beat, just like it always did when Elizabeth smiled that particular smile.
He stepped into the room cautiously, not wanting to intrude on her moment of pleasure at a return to life in Claysmount.
Elizabeth, perceptive to Darcy's every mood and nuance now, crossed the room and enveloped him in a sweet embrace. “Come, Fitzwilliam, let's change and rejoin the others. They may suspect something, if we take too long. They might even whisper about us.” She winked and his mouth curled in a giant grin.
“Yes, Sir William and Tish will be arriving soon. We need to be downstairs to welcome them to our welcome home party,” Darcy said.
Francine Bennet had planned a spectacular dinner. Flowers from the garden adorned every available space in the hall and the dining room. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of roses.
When Elizabeth and Darcy descended, he in a summer suit and she in a sundress, the others were still on the porch, having switched from lemonade and tea to vodka and gin drinks. Darcy mixed a gin and tonic with a twist of lime for him and Elizabeth, saying as he handed her glass
, “To the British for inventing gin. Here! Here!”
“To the British” went the loud cheer, just as Sir William and Tish pulled into the drive. Sir William moved around his Mercedes and opened the door for Tish, who waited patiently for him to do so. When she stepped out, the party gasped. Tish looked even more patrician than usual and was stunningly beautiful in royal purple, amethysts dropping from her ears and a spectacular amethyst necklace complementing her fair complexion.
Elizabeth rushed to hug them. “Tish, that dress is to die for; it is tres chic.”
“It is rather nice, isn't it? I've been shopping, Lizzy.”
At supper Sir William dropped a bombshell—but a welcome one.
“Letitia Pope has agreed to be my wife,” he said, clasping Tish's outstretched left hand, which everyone now noticed featured a stunning ruby of immense proportion.
“Tish picked out the ring yesterday. She has at long last accepted my hand, and we are to be married this Saturday in Tish's living room. You are all invited—four sharp.
“Tish will then move that very day, finally and forever, to Stantonfield where she will fill my life with love. And, Darcy, her property, Laurel Acres, will become an almost immediate addition to our charity enterprise. Tish is most anxious that not one more horse meets its death, if it can be purchased and moved to Laurel Acres in Claysmount or Twin Spirals in Laurel County. And so am I. Kitty and Gage will see to the details.”
The company all rose, simultaneously, congratulating and hugging the happy couple—in shock to some degree, but exquisitely happy shock.
“Maria, and of course John and Charlotte, have known for some time of my intentions. I swore Maria to secrecy. Tish and I wanted Elizabeth and Darcy here for the announcement.” Sir William then signaled to Peter, with whom he had previously arranged a champagne toast. Peter and Amelie entered with Nanny Lulu, handing each person a long stemmed champagne glass and keeping one for themselves, and then pouring out some of the world's finest champagne, flown from France for the wedding Saturday.
Sir William raised his glass, “To my bride, the most beautiful person I know, and a lady that I have admired for years and loved for eight of those.”
Tish beamed with delight at Sir William's public acknowledgment of his many years of commitment to her.
“To the bride,” they all toasted excitedly.
Darcy raised his glass and toasted, “To the bride and the groom.”
Everyone followed, “To the bride and the groom.”
“Oh, by the way, Darcy, I know it is a little late notice, but will you agree to stand up with me as best man?”
Tish turned to Elizabeth, “Will you be my matron of honor, Lizzy? Maria is giving me away to her dad at long last. John and Charlotte cannot be here., but will join us before the year is out, perhaps at Christmas.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Needless to say with the new excitement on Pope Road, Elizabeth did not read Claire's chapters the next day or any day before the Saturday wedding. On Friday morning she did delve into her walk-in closet and found nothing worthy of her new position: matron of honor. A matron of honor—at last. “How my life has changed in wondrous, ever-expanding ways!” Elizabeth exclaimed, as she stepped back out of the wardrobe.
“I can thank my poor detective prowess; in a way, that lifelong proclivity set all these incredible events in motion. The amateur detective strikes again; she just doesn't solve any mysteries,” Elizabeth said. Suddenly, however, the smile was wiped off her face as she recalled the dastardly contents closed out of sight in her desk, her first reflection on Claire's alleged masterpiece since the Sir William/Tish announcement.
“Tomorrow is the wedding, and Sunday I must take Fitzwilliam to Lancaster for his homecoming, but next week, sometime, somehow I will read you, you miserable pieces of harassment. Then I am going to ask Jane to mail the chapters she has back. I will not read them.” That determination freed Elizabeth to once again forget Claire and the chapters, which made a mockery of her favorite topics: love and marriage.
“I must go shopping,” Elizabeth decided happily, “I have nothing to wear worthy of the Lucas/Pope wedding.” Elizabeth's mood lifted dramatically at the thought of a shopping expedition. “So here I come, Lexington,” Elizabeth said.
“I'm off to the big city. Well, the little big city and my favorite dress shop,” Elizabeth informed Darcy, as she brushed him a kiss and breezed out the door right after lunch.
“Too bad I didn't know in London,” Elizabeth mused, as she zoomed up the twenty-five mile stretch between Richmond and Lexington. “I could have had an excuse to make Fitzwilliam go shopping with me and carry my bundles.” Elizabeth laughed uproariously at her mind's image of Darcy balancing hat boxes, dress bags and shoe boxes on the top of double-decker London bus. This led her to wonder, “Does anyone wear a hat today? Does one wear a hat for a four o'clock wedding? I'll have to ask the store,” she decided.
Elizabeth flew down the highway, easily exceeding eighty in her Mercedes coupe, hair flying wildly despite her baseball cap. Thus arriving at the shop with frazzled, unconquerable curls sticking out everywhere, Elizabeth searched for her favorite sales lady.
“Mrs. Darcy now, I believe,” Melanie Jones-Hill recollected with a wink.
“Melanie, I am desperate—as I usually am when you encounter me. I need something of really knock 'em dead quality for a very special afternoon wedding. It has to fit, no alterations. The wedding is tomorrow. What do you have?”
“Any color or fabric preference?
“It is August so it must be cool and comfortable—linen or something which looks like linen but wrinkles less enthusiastically—faux linen?”
“We can manage that quite easily.”
“Choose any color that doesn’t turn me orange, for on this occasion the bride cannot be outshone.”
“I have a lavender chiffon and a daffodil yellow, as you say, faux linen—the essence of linen without the immediate creases—just the right amount to seem real.”
“Oh, bring them out, Melanie. They sound divine. Let's see if they fit.”
Two hours and two new pairs of shoes later, Elizabeth left with two dresses. Both were so spectacular on her that, since she couldn't decide, she elected to wear one tonight to the rehearsal dinner and one tomorrow to the wedding. Elizabeth sensed she was running short of time; barn duty awaited. Still she must buy Darcy something, so she stopped by a nearby men's shop and purchased him two sets of matching silk ties and handkerchiefs, which in turn complemented her two new dresses. Pleased to have been so monumentally successful in her shopping extravaganza, she headed home.
Elizabeth had given Charlie Friday off to show her appreciation for all the hard work he put in while she was on her honeymoon. Darcy took on half the load, and so by six they separated into two different bathrooms to get ready for the rehearsal dinner at Gage and Maria's. No actual rehearsal was planned.
When Darcy returned, wrapped in his terry cloth robe from the Central Park hotel, Elizabeth was sitting at her dressing table dressed also in one of the hotel's complimentary robes.
Darcy wandered over to her, seemingly casually. He placed his hands lightly on her robed shoulders. “Claire came by today while you were in Lexington,” he said. Elizabeth stiffened, but did not reply.
“It seems she is eager for your response to Chapters Three-Six,” Darcy said in a calm, steady voice. “Please let me return them tomorrow unread, Lizzy. She is becoming a nuisance.” Darcy paused, concern on his serious face. “I tried to be polite, but perceiving her undeniable, underlying animosity towards you, it was almost impossible.”
After substantial consideration, Darcy said, “Elizabeth, if she had been a man, I would have ejected her from our property.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy in the mirror, as he continued to stand behind her. He sensed the anxiety cloud her glorious eyes; it rent his heart.
“Elizabeth, I beg you, at least let me read and address the chapters. That w
oman is nothing to me. I have no background with her, no emotional investment as you do.”
“No, my darling, it wouldn't be fair to you. Claire is not your problem. Did you ask me to take on your travail, knowing my influence with Sir William? You could have, but you didn't.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
“Claire looked around continuously, as we both perched on the edges of the living room chairs. She was almost like a vulture, obviously anticipating, hoping you'd appear at any moment—to find her there—with me—in your house.”
“My darling . . .”
“I became quite determined that she'd not be in our house when you returned.”
“My precious . . .”
“But, Elizabeth, you know how little experience I have dealing with women. Georgiana is so much younger than I that she always did my bidding without complaint and Gilbert’s wife Louisa is so charming.”
“I know, my love.”
Despair clouded his aspect. “I got so concerned you'd drive up any minute that unfortunately I became desperate. I had to call on Peter. He's so astute at that kind of thing, you know. I had him practically escort her to her car, open the door and watch her exit the driveway onto Pope Road.”
“My heroic protector . . .”
“You jest, my dear, but I too now dislike the lady immensely and hope to see the end of her and her nasty book.”
“We're of one mind there.”
“I wonder how much she'd take for her three hundred acres? Sir William or I or both might subtly inquire. Or perhaps Richard or Gilbert or both would like an estate in the country.”
“Oh, my dearest Fitzwilliam, what a perfect solution. I have no doubt that Claire thinks we are all a bunch of bumpkins. Please look into it, my darling. But do it surreptitiously. If she thinks that I’m involved, she'll never agree, or she will price it too high to make the purchase worth it.”
“My dear Elizabeth, no price is too high for your peace of mind and security. Monday morning I will discuss with Kitty the most effective way to proceed.”
