To both Darcy and Elizabeth, it seemed like an eternity before the ceremony resumed. Unbeknown to Darcy, Elizabeth also suffered such thoughts, willing the Colonel to stay silent. Then separately, but together, they breathed a sigh of relief as a deafening silence ensued. Fitzwilliam had held his tongue. The vows were spoken; the rings exchanged, followed by the words they both waited to hear.
“I, therefore, proclaim that they are husband and wife. Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
It was done.
Darcy was relieved, not the feeling he expected to experience on his wedding day, but surprisingly it felt good. While Elizabeth was bursting with happiness. She was married, and to a man that she loved. True, it had been a gradual realisation, but she was convinced it would be a love of the most powerful kind, both passionate and enduring.
After signing the register, they proceeded through the throng of well-wishers. Eventually, they arrived at Darcy’s carriage, which had been decorated with mistletoe and holly. They were both surprised when Mrs Bennet stepped forward and ushered Charles and Jane into the carriage with them. There seemed to be a shortage of transport, she muttered.
Elizabeth had hoped to speak to Darcy before the ceremony, but there had been no time. She resigned herself to the fact that it now seemed it would have to wait until after the wedding breakfast.
Netherfield looked magnificent. The staff had twisted garlands of evergreen, holly, and mistletoe around the door frames and bannisters. In the main room set aside for dancing, dozens of candles sat in scented water, both illuminating and heating the room with a sweet fragrance. The musicians had rehearsed for hours to ensure the entertainment went smoothly, and a feast was set out in the dining hall.
As the guests arrived and the celebrations got underway, Mrs Bennet bathed in the glow of self-satisfaction, having received several compliments on accomplishing so much in such a short time.
All too soon, it was time to leave, and Darcy came to escort Elizabeth to the carriage. However, she was surprised when he informed her they would be going straight to Pemberley, rather than turning in the direction of the capital. He had even arranged for Georgiana to return to London in the care of his aunt and uncle Matlock.
Elizabeth was puzzled; they had agreed the journey to Pemberley would be easier if they rested the night at Airwhile house and then made an early start the next morning. This new plan meant they would spend their first night as husband and wife at an inn.
“I see no need to tarry in London, madam, and lose a day’s travel,” he said, “and besides, Fitzwilliam can escort the ladies and Uncle home before re-joining his regiment,” Darcy informed her stoically.
Elizabeth quickly found Georgiana to say a tearful farewell, while reassuring her they would meet anon at Pemberley. Although she had been shocked when Darcy had told her of their change of plans, she even more so when she saw him mount his horse. He would not be riding in the carriage with her? Confused and abashed at his demeanour, she said nothing; instead, she settled herself down for the journey ahead, drawing the blankets tightly around her legs and resting her feet on the hot bricks.
After travelling for nigh on four hours, they finally stopped at a large roadside inn called ‘The Haystack.’ They would only partake of some refreshment while the horses were changed, Darcy had said. The swaying of the carriage had helped Elizabeth fall asleep for part of the way, but now she felt refreshed and hungry as she alighted from the carriage. Expecting Darcy to be there to assist her down, she was surprised when James the footman, offered his hand.
“Thank you, James, where is Mr Darcy?”
“I believe the master has gone to the stables. He wanted to check the condition of the new steeds’ madam and leave instructions for his four to be returned to Pemberley. Is that all, Mrs Darcy?” he asked.
Elizabeth froze; that was the first time she had been called Mrs Darcy. It sounded so strange. Never again would she be Miss Bennet. ‘Mr Darcy and Mrs Darcy’ she mused aloud. Heavens, she thought, I cannot keep calling him Mr Darcy now that we are married. Making her way to the inn, she tried to think of an appropriate term of endearment. Should it be William as Georgiana preferred, or perhaps Fitzwilliam? It certainly would not be Fitz as many of his male relations called him.
“This way ma’am, Mr Darcy bid us keep the best and most private dining room for you. Young Nellie is at your service.”
The innkeeper tugged his forelock and made a clumsy bow. He was a rather rotund individual, and while losing his hair, he seemed of a jolly disposition. Elizabeth noticed there were only a few other travellers, either eating or warming themselves by the fire.
“Elizabeth.”
On hearing her name, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Darcy standing behind her. Taking her by the elbow, he propelled her towards a door and into the back room. Then he turned her to face him, and slowly, undid the ribbons on her bonnet. Somehow she knew he would be studying her face, his eyes sweeping over her every feature as if to burn them to memory. Suddenly, he spun her around, and in one fluid moment dashed her cloak from her shoulders. This brooding Darcy made Elizabeth nervous, and she quietly awaited his instruction.
He pulled a chair out from the fireside table and beckoned Elizabeth over. The serving girl waited until he had seated Elizabeth before stepping forward.
“Bring Mrs Darcy a dish of the beef stew, some bread and a jug of wine please.”
“Nuffin’ for yourself sir?” young Nellie asked.
“Brandy, and bring the bottle.” Darcy barked.
Elizabeth was puzzled. Something had clearly upset him. In truth, he had been out of sorts since they had exchanged their vows. Oh, he had been all civility and politeness when greeting the line of guests and well-wishers at the wedding breakfast, but since the first dance, he had scarcely spoken a word to her.
Elizabeth decided to try and lighten the mood, playfully saying,
“I believe we must have some conversation sir, a very little will suffice.”
These words she had first spoken to him at the Netherfield ball, and she thought it might amuse him to hear them repeated.
He took the seat opposite her but said nothing.
Since they had left Hertfordshire, Darcy had become cold and aloof, as when they first met. The state of marriage was new to them both, Elizabeth realised, but surely this was not how newlyweds behaved? Where was the congenial and passionate man of the last six weeks? The man who had declared he would do all in his power to be worthy of her. No, something had gone adrift, and until he confided in her, she had no other option but to endure it. If he desired conversation, she would engage; if he teased her, she would return in kind, and if it were silence he wanted, she could oblige in that too.
I cannot let my guard down, Darcy thought. It was torture for him not to take Elizabeth in his arms and to bruise her lips with his kisses. Only then could he purge himself of this pent-up passion, which ravaged both his body and soul. He had longed for the day he could call her wife, yet the very word made a mockery of him. The sooner they were at Pemberley, the better; at least there it would be easier to put some distance between them.
Elizabeth ate her meal in silence but for thanking the young serving girl. Although she had shared many meals in the company of Mr Darcy, this was the first time she had felt self-conscious. Having taken the chair opposite her, Darcy then proceeded to watch her intently, moving his gaze only to top up his glass. It was quite disconcerting for her, having someone scrutinise every morsel she put in her mouth, every sip of her wine.
Finally, Elizabeth could bear it no longer.
“Sir, are you not hungry after such a long ride? May I not ask the girl to bring you a bowl of stew or if you prefer some bread and cheese?”
“Thank you, madam, I am content with my liquid supper,” was all he replied.
His shifted his gaze to the fire, and Elizabeth continued eating.
Finally, putting the last bit of bread in her mout
h, she gave a sigh, relieved that she had finished her meal.
In an instant, Darcy was on his feet, knocking the chair over as he stood,
“I am sorry if my presence is not to your liking madam,” he hissed.
He then strode to the door, pausing only to turn and say, “We rest here tonight, but be ready to depart at first light,” and then he was gone.
Elizabeth looked at the door in astonishment, then back to the chair; instinctively, she rose and set it right. What had induced such an outburst? Lost in her own thoughts, Elizabeth failed to notice the innkeeper enter.
Startled, she looked up when he said,
“Your trunk is in your room, Mrs Darcy and Nellie will be with you directly; she will show you the way.”
True to his word, the young girl arrived just a moment later.
“Guvnor said to show you to the best room, miss. You’re in luck, it was only vacated this morning so it has fresh linen too.”
Nellie smiled, picking up her skirt, and led the way.
“Thank you, Nellie. You seem very happy; do you enjoy your work here at the inn?” Elizabeth asked, desperate to mask her shocked at Darcy’s outburst.
“’Tis hard work and no mistake, but gent’s like your husband make it easier.”
Puzzled by her answer, Elizabeth asked her “how so?”
“The gentleman gave me thruppence to make sure I took good care of you, and he gave the guvnor a crown to make him sweet to the idea. He said ‘anything Mrs Darcy asks for is to be delivered, anything,” she replied, rendering a good impersonation of Darcy.
After the last half hour in his taciturn company, Elizabeth was astonished that he had bothered to ensure her comfort.
Nellie opened the door to a spotlessly clean and surprisingly large bed-chamber.
“Does my husband’s room adjoin mine, and do you know where he is?”
“No miss, he only took one set of rooms, and at present, he is at the bar. I warned him the folk in there were local field workers, not refined like you are madam, but ’e paid me no mind.”
Seeing Elizabeth’s look of alarm, the girl reassured her,
“Don’t you worry, Madam, the Guvnor will look after ’im, he won’t let any of the lads step out of line.”
As Darcy had taken only one set of rooms, she must assume he intended to join her there. Although she was pleased, it was not where she had expected to consummate their union.
As she waited for Nellie to bring her hot water, Elizabeth undressed and looked around. It was quite a large room for an inn, with an equally large bed. She wondered what her mother would make of this situation, for there appeared to be nowhere for Mr Darcy to retire to after they had joined.
When the girl came back with a pail of steaming water, she also carried Darcy’s outer clothes, his tailcoat and neckcloth, which she placed on a chair with care.
“I brought these up miss so they don’t get stolen or spoiled.”
Then she poured half the bucket’s contents into the pitcher and half into the bowl.
“And what is their owner doing?” Elizabeth questioned.
The girl chuckled; she had watched as the handsome young gentleman easily integrated himself with the locals, putting them at their ease with his knowledge of crop rotation and field irrigation. He further rose in their esteem when he accepted the challenge to arm wrestle, even though he was a fair way to being in his cups. She recalled the look on old Groggin’s face when Darcy had slammed his hand on the table for the second time. Groggin admitted defeat and slapped Darcy on the back in good humour.
“He still be making merry with the regular’s madam,” Nellie replied with a smile.
Elizabeth’s toilet was soon complete, and she now sat alone to awaited Darcy’s arrival. As the room grew darker, Elizabeth turned to look out of the window. The moon was high, and the crisp night sky was awash with twinkling stars. She tried to stifle a yawn but sleep was encroaching on her, and she no longer had the energy or will to resist. As she climbed beneath the blankets, she thought what a long and eventful day it had been. Thankfully, sleep found her quickly.
“Mr Darcy sir, the sun is up, and the carriage is packed, and your lady is abroad in her room.”
Muffled words filtered their way into his consciousness, and as he lifted his head to acknowledge them, a searing pain ripped across his brow. Raising both hands, he cupped his head, which did nothing to ease the intense throbbing.
“Water,” he begged, before saying, “bring me a flagon of ale too if you please innkeeper.”
His voice was husky, and his throat felt parched. The drink had been strong, but on an empty stomach it had taken its toll with speed, and now he was to suffer for his arrogant foolhardiness. Darcy followed the innkeeper’s directions and went outside. With careful aim, he headed for the pump over the horse trough. Beckoning to a young stable lad, he jabbed a finger towards the water pump, indicating his need for assistance.
While the lad pumped the handle, Darcy hung his head and let the cold liquid revive him. With the effects of his enthusiastic over-indulgence still felt in his head and stomach, he arranged for Nellie to retrieve his clothes while he made his way to the stables. The journey would have to continue at a slower pace than yesterday, he realised, less he lost his balance in the saddle, or more embarrassingly, the contents of his stomach in a ditch.
Elizabeth thanked Nellie and climbed into the carriage. She was not surprised to be riding alone again. Nellie had informed her of Darcy’s activities last evening with a note of admiration in her voice. She was both puzzled and annoyed that he had not come to her at bedtime. It was certainly not what either her mother or Aunt Gardiner had told her to expect on her wedding night, to sleep alone. Nor from her past encounters with Mr Darcy had she thought events would unfold as they had. So much for Darcy telling the innkeeper to give her anything she desired. A convivial husband in her bed was what she desired, but apparently, that had been unattainable last night.
CHAPTER 25
With the slowing of the carriage, Elizabeth drifted awake. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, stiff after being asleep in one attitude for so long. Realising they were stationary, she lifted the curtain to see where they were.
Standing on the other side looking in, was Darcy. He was dust-covered from his ride, but the hint of a smile played about his face. Taking this as encouragement, Elizabeth beamed back at him. He opened the door and held out his hand.
“This is the best aspect to view Pemberley from for the first time. I did not want you to miss it, Elizabeth.” Darcy said.
Accepting his hand, Elizabeth stepped from the carriage, unprepared for the spectacular vista that lay before her.
She was to be mistress of all this?
The setting was undeniably superb; the house was large and stone built, sitting on its own rise with a lake to the front, which was traversed by a stone bridge. To the rear, she could see the hint of both formal gardens and wild meadows leading to a wooded slope. Adjoining the house was what she suspected was an orangery or hothouse. And finally, she could see a vast expanse of beautifully manicured lawns. She had never seen a place more naturally situated and in harmony with its surroundings.
“’Tis breath-taking sir, truly breath-taking,” she offered with all sincerity.
Overjoyed by Elizabeth’s reaction to his home, Darcy momentarily let his emotions break through.
“Then you approve?” he asked with a broad smile.
“Oh, very much so; I do not think any property could be more pleasingly situated, sir.”
“At the risk of sounding like Mr Collins, it boasts over 200 rooms!”
Elizabeth laughed. Hoping to prolong their easy banter she said in a tease,
“And do you akin yourself to Mr Collins and Rosings, to lecture me on the cost of every fireplace and chimney?”
“Pray do not inflict such a mantle upon me, madam, I fear we may be overheard and taken in earnest,” he replied happily.
Tur
ning back to admire the view, they stood silently for a few minutes more. Darcy then helped Elizabeth back into the carriage, and they rode on to the house.
Pulling up at the entrance, the driver stopped at the base of an impressive set of steps. Elizabeth peered out of the carriage window. The Pemberley staff had lined up to greet her, and on each step stood one of Darcy’s servants. The prospect of meeting them all gave her nervous butterflies in her stomach.
Darcy assisted Elizabeth from the carriage and gently guided her towards a middle-aged couple standing in the centre.
“Elizabeth, may I introduce you to Mr and Mrs Reynolds, my butler and housekeeper.” Turning to the retainers, he said, “May I present my wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.”
The couple stepped forward and congratulated her and then stepped aside. As they ascended the steps, Darcy greeted each person by name and shared a few words with them, while she smiled and nodded, accepting their felicitations. As they reached the front door, Darcy paused to let Elizabeth look around the atrium before following her in. Her face lit up with delight as she gazed around. Suitably grand for such an impressive building, but decorated tastefully and for comfort, with an appropriate amount of splendour without being ostentatious.
A maid stepped forward, bobbed and took their cloaks then quietly retreated. Shyly, Elizabeth looked to Darcy for guidance, who in turn spoke to the waiting housekeeper.
“Mrs Reynolds, I will show Mrs Darcy to her rooms. We will then take tea in the small parlour in an hour. A bath is in order first, I think?” and he looked to Elizabeth, who nodded in agreement, “Yes, so hot water if you please. Also, I would be obliged if you would personally assist my wife for today. I take it you have arranged some candidates for her to interview, as I asked?” Mrs Reynolds nodded.
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