Mr Darcy's Struggle

by Martine J Roberts

  Closing the front door as the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth suddenly felt exhausted. Turning to go back to bed, she found her path blocked by her entire family; all eyes turned to her. They had obviously heard every word of the encounter and were probably mortified at her treatment of Lady Catherine. Then there was the money. Sighing, she wondered how she could justify to them her refusing ten thousand pounds.

  Her mother was the first to break the silence.

  “Well, bearing a title clearly does not make you a lady. What an obnoxious woman, and to leave her sickly daughter in the carriage on a night such as this. Well, it shows no breeding at all if you ask me. Come, everyone back to bed. You heard, Lizzie, we have a wedding to attend.” Mrs Bennet said as she began shooing everyone back upstairs.

  Relief washed over Elizabeth at her mother’s surprise words of support. She rushed forward and threw her arms around Mrs Bennet’s neck and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Oh thank you, Mama, thank you.”

  “Yes, well, do not forget Lizzie, when you are married to Mr Darcy, we will all be relying on you when your poor father dies. I am not implying that you hasten to the grave Mr Bennet, just that it is a relief to know we will be taken care of when the time comes. Now, goodnight everyone, goodnight Lizzie.”

  Elizabeth was elated. Her mother had her faults, but she was a fierce protector where her children were concerned. And tonight, that protection had come at a cost of ten thousand pounds.

  Back in her bed, Elizabeth mulled over her exchanged with Lady Catherine. Defending Mr Darcy and their marriage had felt so right, so natural. Had her feelings for him changed? No, not really changed, she concluded, but grown and evolved. Lady Catherine’s bitter attack has only served to clarify things for her. Gratitude does not make your heart race at the thought of being with someone, nor does it make you feel sad or alone when they are absent. And when Darcy smiled at her, and she felt that fluttering in her stomach like a butterfly, all the while thinking he must surely see how wildly her heart was beating… No, this was not gratitude, though she was grateful to him for so many things. This was love. She loved Darcy. Even now, just thinking of him made her heart race.

  Tonight’s confrontation had finally lifted the mist of doubt and given her a clear view of her heart. Pulling the covers about her shoulders Elizabeth closed her eyes, only now sleep eluded her for a very different reason.

  CHAPTER 23

  The morning of her wedding dawned, and as consciousness slowly returned to Elizabeth, she realised the smile from the previous night still curled the corner of her lips. Lifting her arms high, she savoured an early morning stretch before opening her eyes. The winter sun seemed lazy to rise, and she could barely make out the furnishings of her room. She pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and decided to enjoy their warmth for a few more minutes. Soon the hustle and bustle of the day would begin in earnest, and there would be little time for rest then. Elated that she finally had clarity in regards to her feelings for Mr Darcy, she could not wait to stand at his side and speak her vows. And now she could recite them with a clear conscience and a full heart.

  Elizabeth’s mind wandered over the events of the evening of the Lucas ball. Darcy’s heartfelt revelation amidst the dance floor filled her with joy, leaving the other, more unwelcome conversations to pale in comparison. Even Fitzwilliam’s untimely and unbidden declaration, followed by Lady Catherine’s insufferable diatribe in the early hours of the morning, could not mar her mood. However, she could not deny that it had been an eventful night. She was excited and thrilled at the revelation it had heralded and now wished she had not cried off from their usual walk yesterday, so eager was she to share her feelings. Her only concern was starting her married life with a secret between Darcy and herself. Both she and Colonel Fitzwilliam had agreed it would serve no purpose to tell Darcy.

  When Col. Fitzwilliam begged her for a word in private, she had assumed he wanted to bestow her with cordial felicitations on her impending nuptials and had willingly let him guide her to the small salon. Being Darcy’s cousin, it did not cause her undue alarm when he closed the door behind them He drew her deeper into the room, stopping afore the fire, and she had turned to him with a warm smile, innocent of his intent. It was when he raised her hands to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on each that she realised something was amiss.

  Then speaking with urgency the Colonel said,

  “Miss Elizabeth, I beg your permission to speak freely,” he implored, “when we parted that last day in Kent, I had no idea Darcy was about to make you an offer. Indeed, he had cautioned me not to lose my heart to you. He said such an alliance would be insupportable, due to your lack of fortune and want of connections. Against my better judgement, I heeded his warning and took my leave. After I had returned to London, I realised my mistake. Before I could return, Darcy sent me an express and told me you had accepted him. I found his words incredulous after what he had advised me. I could not resume my duties to their fullest for my mind was elsewhere, and my heartbreak was complete. You see, my affection for you is more than that of a brother.”

  Renewing the grasp on her hands, he then declared,

  “Miss Elizabeth, I cannot let you marry Darcy!”

  As if Elizabeth were not already stunned by the Colonel’s words, this last statement came as a slap in the face. If any other had uttered these words, she might have thought they spoke them in jest. But this was Darcy’s closest male relation, his friend, his confidant. From boyhood to manhood they had shared a special bond, one that had stood the test of time, separation and yes, even war. Although she could not deny that while they were in Kent, she had developed a tender regard for the Colonel, even flirted with him a little, it was inappropriate for him to address her in this manner now.

  Elizabeth formed his name on her lips to begin her reply when he began to speak once more.

  “I do not mean to deny either of you your happiness, but before it is too late, I must ask, is there any hope that you could yet return my sentiment?”

  Elizabeth saw the look of beseechment, tinged with desperation in his eyes, and was sad to be the cause of it. Realising he would now suffer the pain of disappointed hopes, she chose her words with care.

  “Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am honoured that you would consider me worthy of your affection. If the right moment had arisen in Kent and you had declared the depth of your feelings then, I would have considered your offer most seriously.”

  The sting of tears, still fresh from her encounter with Darcy, rose once more and threatened to fall. Causing injury to anyone was abhorrent to her, but she must make it clear that her affections lay elsewhere.

  “But now, I am content in my promise to Mr Darcy. My heart is fully engaged.”

  Then to soften her rebuff and offer him hope for his own future happiness, she continued,

  “In time, you will find the right girl who will fill your heart as Mr Darcy does mine. She will bear your name with love and pride. Come now; be happy for me and let us never speak of this again. Your cousin will never know these words we have exchanged,” she coaxed.

  She could not bear to look at his crestfallen countenance so she reached up and brushed his cheek with her lips. Turning away to leave, she barely managed to reach the door as the first tear broke free. Dashing it away with the back of her hand, she made her way to the room set aside for the ladies. Elizabeth knew she must compose herself before returning to the dance floor if she was to avoid a barrage of questions from Darcy. Dipping her handkerchief in the cold water, she dabbed her face. Surveying the damage, she decided the slight flush on her cheeks could be explained away.

  She returned to the main room and hoped to reach Jane before Darcy reclaimed her. At present, she felt ill-equipped to face his scrutiny. The rest of the evening had been a blur, and she returned home with her family

  Elizabeth took it as a good sign that she had seen neither Darcy nor the Colonel yesterday.

  The soft tapping
at the door brought her out of her reverie, and she quietly bade her sister enter.

  “I knew it would be you, dear Jane.”

  “Lizzie, may I get in with you," Jane asked rhetorically, "I can scarce believe it is your wedding day. Are you not excited?”

  “I am Jane. Finally, I am," she said with a wide grin. "You know, I have not always loved Mr Darcy as I do now, but I do love him so very dearly." Elizabeth beamed. "I fear my false impression started when he declined to dance with me at the assembly and called me barely tolerable. Had my pride not been wounded by this remark, I doubt I would have taken such heed of Wickham’s bitter words? I have always considered myself to be a good judge of character, but I have been guilty of both pride and prejudice where Mr Darcy is concerned. And all because of an inconsequential slight.”

  “But you do not think ill of him now Lizzie, surely?”

  “No, indeed! He is the best man I have ever known, Jane. When I stand at his side today and recite my vows, I will speak them from my heart. Oh, Jane, how wonderful and mysterious is this feeling of love!” Elizabeth threw off the covers and jumped from her bed, twirling about the room.

  “Oh, Lizzie, it is the most exhilarating feeling, is it not!" Jane agreed.

  Jane sat up and leant closer to Elizabeth, who now stood at the side of the bed. In a hushed tone, she confided to Elizabeth.

  “Sometimes, when Charles and I walk out, we hold hands, and I have even let him kiss me. Are you very shocked Lizzie?” Jane asked, blushing furiously.

  Elizabeth returned to the bed and taking Jane’s hands enthused,

  “When your lips touched, did your body feel on fire Jane? I swear my whole body tingles when he touches my hand. It is so different to what I have observed pass between Mama and Papa. When they kiss, I see no passion, affection yes, but nothing more. When Mr Darcy kisses me, I feel a heat in my veins I cannot describe. If our kisses are so different from our parents, I am hopeful that the marriage bed will be too.”

  “Lizzie!" You must not speak about our parents and the marriage bed together!" Jane scolded.

  Then after a moment’s contemplation, she leant closer and whispered,

  “What do you know of the marriage bed?”

  Elizabeth hesitated, unsure if she should repeat her mother’s pre-wedding advice, but she decided as Jane was also betrothed, there could be no harm in forewarning her.

  “The night of the Lucas ball, before Lady Catherine arrived, Mama came to my room. She spoke of my wedding night and divulged what I am to expect. It sounded most unpleasant, and if true, I wonder there are two of us, yet alone five,” Lizzie said with an indignant bluster.

  “What did she say, Lizzie, can you bear to repeat it?” Jane shyly asked.

  Elizabeth straightened her back and folded her hands, mimicking her mother.

  “I am to complete my toilet, then go and lay in bed with my nightgown pulled up to my knees. There I am to wait for Mr Darcy’s pleasure," Elizabeth stated flatly.

  "When he comes to me, he will climb atop of me, pull my gown up about my waist, and then pierce me with his sword."

  At these last words, Jane gasped.

  "I should expect some pain but must lie still until he satisfies his desire. Then he will alight from my person and return to his room. Once alone, I may wash him from my body and then retire,” imparted Elizabeth flatly.

  “Oh Lizzie, it sounds awful; I am sure I will not like it.”

  “Mama said only on the first night will there be pain. She also said once you are with child, your husband will not visit you until after the baby is three months old. That would mean a husband and wife do not share a bed for a year. I had hoped it would be as pleasurable as the kissing,” she sighed.

  Seeing Jane’s look of horror at what must befall them on their wedding night, Elizabeth tried to reassure her and make light of it.

  “Oh, Jane, do not look so sad; it is only what all women have had to endure, and you do want children, do you not?”

  Jane nodded and gave a weak smiled.

  Suddenly, quite unannounced, Mrs Bennet came bustling into the room and immediately scolded them.

  “Come away now Jane and get yourself ready, only then may you return to assist me with Lizzie’s hair. Be gone girl,” she repeated.

  Jane gave her sister a rueful smile before scurrying out of the room.

  “Hill is bringing up your hot water Lizzie, and once you have bathed, Cissy, will come and help you dress. Then Jane and I will return to dress your hair; Cissy is not experienced enough in the new fashions from town, and I will not be shamed in front of Mr Darcy’s relations. Now, so do not linger in the tub Lizzie, and call me when you are ready. Oh, and I believe your Aunt Gardiner would like a word with you, but only if there is enough time. Hurry girl, get out of that bed, you cannot be late today of all days.”

  With that, Mrs Bennet went off to oversee some other aspect of the preparations.

  Hill shut the door, and Elizabeth slipped into the warm water. It was a ritual she enjoyed every morning, and although some frowned on her habit of daily bathing, it was a pleasure Elizabeth would not forgo. She assumed Mr Darcy also bathed daily. He always had such a pleasant, yet manly odour about him. His hair was soft and had a shine of health and vitality about it. Unlike some of her father’s friends, whose hair looked as though they had greased it from the kitchen stove! Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of running her fingers through such a matted mass. There was still so much she did not know about Mr Darcy, Elizabeth thought as she drew the soapy cloth up her left arm, circled around her shoulder, and then crossing over her body to repeat the process down the other side. Bathing could be so pleasurable, she thought. A fierce blush rose to her face, and she giggled. What would the Reverend Muir think of her if he knew she was daydreaming about sharing her bath with her husband?

  CHAPTER 24

  The hive of activity that had dominated the Bennet household for the last few weeks had now transferred to the church adjacent to Longbourn. All the guests had been ushered in and shown to their seats, while Darcy stood before the high altar with Col. Fitzwilliam at his side. Occasionally, the Colonel would tug at Darcy’s waistcoat or brush an invisible speck from his coat in an effort to busy his hands and mind. Darcy, annoyed with this intrusion to his own concentration, slapped his hands away each time until he finally turned to Richard and said,

  “The Devil man, leave me be. Fletcher has done his job to perfection.”

  “I’m pretty sure you are not permitted to curse in church, old man.”

  Fitzwilliam joked, but it was lost on Darcy. His eyes had returned to the doorway.

  His only thought, would she come?

  The Bennet carriage had been outside the church for a good five minutes with no sign of its occupant's alighting. Mr Bennet, his elbows resting on his knees, joined hands with Elizabeth. The duty that was before him was dreaded by all fathers, to give one's daughter to another man. Mr Bennet was no exception in this. First, though, he must share a secret with his favourite child.

  “I cannot pretend I have not dreaded this day for the last one and twenty years, Lizzie. I knew someday another would claim my place in your heart and take you from my side. Though in watching you and your young man together, I am convinced he will do well by you. It makes it a little easier, I must confess. And while in the mood for confessing, there is something I need to share with you, my dear. These many years I have let it be known that my estate is barely profitable. Well, that is not strictly true. Since your mother first told me she was with child, I have squirrelled away a portion of the annual profits and have managed to build a small dowry for each of you girls.”

  Mr Bennet paused and chuckled. The look of surprise on his dear Lizzie’s face was quite amusing. He released one of her hands and gently closed her open mouth before continuing,

  “I believe yours will be a long and happy marriage, Lizzie, but if it is not you will have enough funds to see you to the end of your days. No
w, three thousand pounds is not a fortune, but if you live a frugal life, it should be sufficient. Only your Uncle Gardiner and my lawyer know of this.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were now wide with amazement. Again Mr Bennet smiled.

  “I understand Papa, and I am both surprised and grateful. I hope to invest it for your grandchildren,” she replied as a faint blush stained her cheeks.

  “Come then Lizzie, I think we have kept your young man waiting long enough.” But he could not let her go before telling her, “I will miss you, my child,” and he bent forward and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

  The organist began playing, and Darcy watched the church doors open. There stood Mr Bennet, and at his side was Elizabeth.

  She had come.

  Relief washed over him, and he allowed his body to relax a little. Moving into the aisle, he watched as they made their way towards the altar. Elizabeth looked radiant in her gown of silver with her dark curls adorned with tiny red rosebuds. Darcy wondered if anyone had noticed that it perfectly matched the one in his buttonhole.

  He had sent word to Pemberley, instructing Watkins to raid the hothouse for some of his prized blooms, knowing they would be the perfect accessory for Elizabeth’s hair.

  She looked radiant. Darcy would be the envy of all the men gathered, especially his cousin. He looked at his approaching bride, and as Elizabeth met his gaze, she bestowed him with a dazzling smile, making the breath catch in his throat. Just days ago, he would have been euphoric that such a smile was for him, but not now. He returned a slight smile and gently inclined his head.

  As the Reverend Muir began to speak, Mr Bennet placed Elizabeth’s hand into Darcy’s and the service began. When the time came for the preacher to ask if there was anyone who knew of any just impediment as to why they should not be joined in holy matrimony, to speak now or forever hold their peace, Darcy held his breath. Would Richard speak out and claim her for his own? Would Elizabeth deny him and turn to Fitzwilliam?