She nodded hesitantly, her lips parted, and Darcy leaned down and kissed her. At university, he had kissed a couple of tavern wenches before deciding that he had no intention of going into the petticoat line. Such encounters had left him cold and uncomfortable—nothing like the warm enjoyment his fellows professed.
Kissing Elizabeth was everything he could have desired. A warm rush of affection and love filled him as his hand cupped her beautiful face, and his heart sang at the thought that they were embarking on a life together, entwined and entangled in every aspect just as their lips were now. No cold ton-marriage was he entering, but a life built with the woman he loved.
Elizabeth would require the best out of him and would accept his suggestions equally. Only a mere six months ago she had rejected him and set him on a path through trial and sorrow and awoken him to the loneliness he had suppressed for so long, forcing him to become a better version of himself. Though their time together was not guaranteed to be of long duration, nor without trial, they would face whatever came. Together.
Chapter 53
Darcy fidgeted with his neckcloth as he waited in the church vestibule. Soon it would be time for him to stand in front of the church and await his bride. To one side of the room, Bingley bounced from one end of the room to the other, his pacing as frantic and messy as his handwriting.
Fitzwilliam chuckled. “One would think you’re about to dance upon nothing, Bingley,” he called. “You look more nervous than Darcy before a ball. Having second thoughts?” he drawled.
Bingley halted, his chest puffing out. “Not at all,” he said firmly, glaring.
“He is trying to wind you up, Bingley,” Darcy said.
“Or maybe just trying to make off with the bride for myself,” Fitzwilliam said with a wink.
Bingley took a deep breath as though about to berate Darcy’s cousin before he sagged. “Jane would be most unwilling, but thank you for that visual,” he said with a chuckle.
“Visual?”
“Can you imagine what Mrs. Bennet and Lady Matlock would do to you if you interfered with the wedding?” Bingley asked with a small smile.
Fitzwilliam paled.
Darcy chuckled. “You walked right into that one.”
“True,” Fitzwilliam said, his arms coming across his chest even as he sent Darcy a sly wink.
“Thank you,” Darcy mouthed back at him.
Bingley had been getting more and more wound up, his pacing growing erratic along with his breathing, and nothing Darcy had said had calmed his friend. It hardly helped that he was having difficulty maintaining his own calm.
Penn’s knock sounded, and Fitzwilliam strode to the door to open it.
Darcy’s friend and valet entered, ostensibly to check over the bridegrooms once more. Darcy had not minded pretending to be obsessively fastidious as it allowed one of his dearest friends to attend his wedding. Just the sight of him steadied Darcy’s nerves. His closest friends were all here, supporting him as his life moved forward to a new phase, and, out in the church, Georgiana and his Aunt and Uncle Matlock waited with Elizabeth’s family.
“Everything all right, sirs?” Penn asked.
“I believe so, Penn,” Darcy replied, “But perhaps you ought to check Mr. Bingley’s cravat lest he has dislodged it in all his pacing.”
Bingley glared at him but walked over to Penn at once. “I was not pawing at my neck, unlike some people,” he said.
Fitzwilliam guffawed. “You have been fidgeting with your neckcloth, Darcy. Perhaps you are the one worried about a noose?”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “I am not worried about a noose, I am merely—” He paused. Why was he nervous? He was more excited than nervous to marry Elizabeth, although fears of Aunt Catherine barging in at the last minute had featured in his dreams over the past few days. No, the twisting in his stomach had more to do with an unreasonable fear that had crept into his mind and body last night. What if this was the dream? What if he reached the altar, married Elizabeth, and awoke to find her dead? Throughout the entirety of the past four months since his vision, everything had felt off; even as he had returned to Pemberley, it had felt different, as though he had never really quite returned home, as though he were living in some alternate existence.
He took a deep breath, reminding himself that such an event was hardly likely, and that he had determined to put away fear—he did not wish to spoil their wedding day with powerless phantasms.
“I am merely tired of waiting.” That was true. The past three months had been torture.
“And?” Bingley prodded, concern written large across his features.
“And I am worried that this may be nothing more than a dream,” Darcy admitted in a rush.
Fitzwilliam pinched him.
“Ouch!” Darcy yelped.
“You seem awake enough to me,” his cousin pronounced gleefully.
“Not that kind of dream!” Darcy snapped. “A vision. My vision felt so real—I could have sworn it was the true reality when it was happening.”
“Mr. Darcy, sir, if you recall shortly after your vision, we spoke of how you cannot live mourning a vision when you are living this life now,” Penn said.
“I know,” Darcy replied, gratitude in his voice. “I have reminded myself of that very realisation this morning. I do not wish to ruin my wedding day with such melancholy thoughts.”
“No, you do not,” Fitzwilliam agreed. “I for one am very grateful you experienced your vision; If I had never come to Hertfordshire, never interacted with the new Darcy . . . well, I would be a very different person.”
Darcy nodded, his throat closing as he considered the changes in his friendship with Fitzwilliam over the past four months. Though Fitzwilliam had been forced to return to his position shortly after Darcy’s engagement, Darcy had made a point to visit his cousin several times, and his cousin had finally confided in him. They had wept together over the horrors Fitzwilliam had seen in battle, and Fitzwilliam had finally agreed to accept his father’s and Darcy’s assistance in setting up his own estate after Bonaparte was defeated.
“As would I,” Bingley chimed in. “I never envisioned the adventure we would have going to Hertfordshire or meeting the woman of my dreams, but I am so grateful that we took this journey together. The past three months have been—difficult, and Jane and I could not have navigated them without your support.”
Darcy clasped his friend’s hand. “As I could not have navigated these three months without yours.” Bingley had been of great support as Darcy had negotiated the difficulties of a long engagement. He had not considered how frustrating it would be to be constantly travelling between Pemberley, London, and Netherfield, but his estate was his responsibility and though there was much he could delegate, there was also much he needed to be on hand for.
Bingley had grown throughout the months into a confident young man, one even more at peace with himself than Before. He and Miss Bennet had both worked through their difficulties around Wickham’s and Miss Bingley’s behaviour, and they were both the stronger for it. They had only been engaged for a month, but, as Mrs. Bennet had been planning her eldest daughter’s wedding for much longer and Bingley and Miss Bennet had no desire to wait another three months while Mrs. Bennet enacted her grandiose plans, they had requested to merely share Darcy and Elizabeth’s wedding, something both Darcy and Elizabeth were glad to agree to.
Darcy thought he owed them this after the many times they had interposed themselves between him and Mrs. Bennet when her grand wedding plans had gotten on his last nerve. She had been ecstatic upon his engagement to Elizabeth, her cries of joy over his 10,000 pounds and the fact that they were now saved from the hedgerows echoing so loudly that he almost expected his aunt and uncle to have heard them from Netherfield. Her exuberance had not abated over the past three months, despite her dislike of such an unseemly length of engagement. She had been all for them getting married by special license within the week or perhaps two “so that she would have time
to prepare a wedding breakfast fit for such a prestigious family.”
Mr. Bennet had come to the rescue, pointing out that such a lengthy engagement was de rigour with some of the highest echelons of society and it only showcased how very prestigious Elizabeth would be as Mrs. Darcy.
Fortunately, Darcy had been catapulted into her good graces by requesting to marry her daughter, and so she had warmed up to him, making time with the Bennet family less uncomfortable than it had been. Unfortunately, her fondness had resulted in Mrs. Bennet giving assiduous attention to his opinion regarding every detail. If Bingley had not been there to occasionally turn the conversation away from Elizabeth and Darcy’s wedding, allowing the two of them a few stolen moments of quiet conversation, Darcy thought he might have gone mad. It had been their request for a joint wedding that had nixed all talk of a special license a mere month ago, something Mrs. Bennet lamented only once or twice a day. She had been forced to be content with both her daughters having the bans spoken.
“I too am very glad for your vision,” Penn said quietly. “It was always an honour to serve you, sir, but it has been my pleasure to serve you these past months.”
“Thank you, Penn,” Darcy choked out. “I have been very grateful for your presence these past months as well.” His faithful valet had grounded him through the stress of all the travel, the distance from his beloved, and Lady Catherine’s letters demanding he break things off or she would take Georgiana from him—something that had continued until Lord Matlock had threatened to break publicly with her. Without Penn’s good sense and quiet encouragement, these past months would have been nearly impossible.
Penn cleared his throat and took out his watch. “It is time, sir.”
Darcy nodded, giving all his friends a heartfelt look before they filed into the sanctuary.
His eyes drifted over the people in attendance. Despite Mrs. Bennet’s protests, they had kept it to family only. Georgiana was sitting with Lord and Lady Matlock, a serene smile gracing her lips that grew as her gaze met his. Darcy’s lips turned up in response. After getting past Miss Bingley’s lies, Georgie had taken to Elizabeth like a duck to water and was thrilled to be getting five sisters all at once. She and her companion, Mrs. Annesley, had spent a great deal of time with the Bennet girls over the past months.
In the person of her sister, Mrs. Morehead, Mrs. Annesley had provided the solution to a conundrum that had left both Mr. Bennet and Darcy stumped. Mrs. Morehead was a companion and more than capable of taking all the Bennet ladies in hand. She had assisted Elizabeth as she prepared to navigate the ton, helped Miss Bennet prepare for married life, provided pianoforte instruction for both Elizabeth and Miss Mary, prompted Miss Kitty to focus on her drawing and generally learn manners, and managed to tame the worst excesses of Mrs. Bennet’s and Miss Lydia’s behaviour.
In short, she was a miracle-worker, and Darcy was more grateful for the redoubtable woman than he could express.
Even Mr. Bennet seemed tamed in her presence, his smirk becoming a bit less snarky in response to her stern reprimands. Though some economising was necessary to pay her fees, Mr. Bennet believed it worth the effort. Mrs. Bennet was less convinced, but Darcy had explained to her that her daughters would not be accepted into high society without having had instruction. That, and Georgiana’s example, had led her to grudgingly accept the necessity, and she now loudly proclaimed that Mrs. Morehead had done more for her nerves than anyone in the household.
Thanks to Lady Catherine’s interference, Lord and Lady Matlock had thrown their wholehearted support behind Darcy, and Lady Matlock was half-convinced she had been responsible for Darcy’s choice. His aunt was determined to ensure Elizabeth was accepted by the ton and had already set about London rumours of Elizabeth’s virtues and her charming family.
Darcy’s gaze shifted to the Bennets’ row. Miss Mary’s smile bloomed as their eyes met, and Darcy nodded at her. His friendship with the middle Bennet had continued to grow, as had Georgiana’s, and he and Elizabeth already looked forward to her coming to Pemberley with Georgiana in a month. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley were to spend the next month at the Bennets’.
Miss Kitty looked content, turning to Miss Mary to offer some whispered comment. She too had taken to the new changes with gusto. In the person of Mrs. Morehead, both girls had discovered the attention they had so desired, and Mr. Bennet had persisted in his goal of interacting with both of them every day.
Mr. Bennet’s character improvements seemed to be persisting, though Mr. Bennet’s progress was slower than Darcy would have wished, and he often had to remind himself of the difficulty and length of time he had spent trying to undo the habits of 20 years. But, although Mr. Bennet fell back into habits of desultory-ness, he never remained there for long.
Miss Lydia, on the other hand, seemed determined to resist every opportunity for improvement offered to her. She sat in her seat sullenly, her arms crossed. Elizabeth had mentioned that Miss Lydia had thrown several tantrums over the past months, because she had desired to be the first to marry. In fact, it had been a second escapade on her behalf that had prompted the hire of Mrs. Morehead a mere three weeks after they had rescued Miss Lydia from Wickham. The silly girl had continued her flirtatious ways with the soldiers, despite Mr. Bennet’s strict instructions to the contrary. Thankfully, Miss Kitty had informed her father of the situation, and they had found Mrs. Morehead before Miss Lydia was able to take things any further than a failed attempt at passing letters.
Colonel Forster had apologised for refusing to listen to Fitzwilliam and Darcy. He remained in command of the regiment, something Fitzwilliam was not entirely satisfied with, but his encounter with Wickham’s perfidy had resulted in him keeping a closer watch on his charges. In addition, the townspeople no longer offered unlimited credit to the soldiers, and ladies were assiduously chaperoned.
Though Miss Lydia remained sullen and obstreperous, Darcy was hopeful that a real change might occur with the change in circumstance that today would bring. Both Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Morehead intended to turn their attention towards bringing their youngest charge up to scratch after the wedding.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst sat in one of the pews, but Miss Bingley was not present. She had surprised both Bingley and Darcy when she sent letters of congratulation and apology to both couples, and Bingley had considered allowing her to attend the wedding. In the end, however, he had decided to hold to his resolve and had informed Miss Bingley that she would not be invited as the year was not yet up. Remarkably, she had taken his pronouncement with good grace and had only wished them well once again. Darcy was hopeful that her earlier indications of a character change had been real. He had no intention of allowing her back into his life, but he did not wish Miss Bingley ill.
The door in the rear creaked open, and Darcy’s gaze flew to the dim recesses of the church. Miss Bennet and Elizabeth entered on their father’s arms; Darcy had eyes only for Elizabeth. His breath caught. Dressed in pale yellow, she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, but that was nothing to the love and joy shining from her eyes.
Radiant. That was the only word that came to mind. She positively radiated beauty and love, and that love was for him. The cold fear curled around his heart slithered away as she put her warm hand in his. This was real, more real than anything he had ever experienced.
As in a dream, Darcy heard the rector perform the ceremony. Gratitude swelled within him, leaving him nearly breathless, and he sent a silent thank you heavenwards. All the pain of his character reformation, the uncertainty of his vision . . . the anguish of losing Elizabeth, the pain of trying to convince her that he had changed, the stress of trying to protect her and her family from Wickham . . . it was all worth it to reach this moment.
The sun shone through the stained-glass windows, falling upon them as though in blessing as the ceremony ended. Elizabeth’s smile grew, and Darcy’s heart lifted as the rector instructed them to face their families.
All his deepest
wishes were coming true. He had finally come home.
Miss Bingley’s Mistakes
Miss Caroline Bingley grimaced as she slowly cracked the door of her room and peeped out. Not a soul in sight. On tiptoe, she flitted from one open doorway to the next. If she could just reach the drawing-room without being noticed, she might have a chance. Fortunately, as it was the dinner hour, few of the servants were about.
If someone had told her a week ago that she would be skulking through the halls of her own home, she would have scoffed at the idea. Yet, here she was, and it was all Eliza Bennet’s fault.
A little over three months ago, her brother Charles had decided on a whim to lease Netherfield Park, despite the fact that she had told him hundreds of times that Hertfordshire, though close to London, was not fashionable enough to make their long-term home. Fortunately for her, Charles was incapable of making up his own mind and so had invited his dearest friend (and one of the most eligible bachelors in England), Mr. Darcy, to visit and give his opinion on the property. Caroline had set her sights on marrying Mr. Darcy some years ago and welcomed the opportunity to show him that she was more than capable of being mistress of a country estate. Then he might finally come to the point and propose.
All seemed to be going according to plan until a mere month ago when the situation began unravelling at an alarming rate. Upon their arrival in Hertfordshire, Charles had fallen instantly, wildly in love with the local beauty. Caroline had expected Mr. Darcy to bring that relationship to an abrupt halt as he had always helped her rescue Charles from fortune hunters in the past.
Unfortunately, he had apparently thrown himself headlong into the same trouble in which Charles had become entangled. Indeed, Mr. Darcy’s about-face had been beyond ridiculous. Instead of enjoying her little commentaries about the bucolic nature of their location and the people in this godforsaken part of the country, he had been austere and often walked away. Instead of pursuing her company, he had turned to Miss Eliza Bennet. And worse still, he had refused to rescue Charles from the clutches of Miss Jane Bennet.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 58
