Darcy's Tale, Volume III_The Way Home

by Stanley Michael Hurd

  The unfortunate girl began to cry, sobbing, “Y-y-yes, Sir, I know he is, thank you.” That was as far as she could speak, and the rest of the short trip to the church was occupied by Perkins in trying to calm her.

  When they reached the church, the bride was at first almost afraid to take Darcy’s arm, but her own emotion made his support more or less a necessity, and he thought at one point they might have to stop in one of the pews to let her compose herself. “I’m so sorry Mr. Darcy, Sir,” said she through her tears.

  “It is quite all right, my dear; you are just happy.”

  “Oh, Sir, I’m so happy I think I might die.”

  Darcy smiled at her in amusement. “Oh, please do not,’” he said. “Perkins would be so very disappointed.” He gestured up the aisle to where Perkins waited; the bride seem to take courage from the sight of her groom waiting for her, and, in a more resolute manner, she finished the remaining steps to his side.

  The ceremony was soon over, as they always are; the happy couple, under Darcy’s direction, took the coach back to her rooms while Darcy himself began the walk back to Netherfield, feeling well-pleased with life in general. He had not got too far before the coach came by to gather him up; he was in an exceedingly fine mood all the way back to Netherfield.

  In the afternoon Darcy entered into consultation with Elizabeth, Jane, and Bingley, to decide their own plans. They determined that they would be married by special license on a Friday, three weeks hence, with the two couples returning to London together for their honeymoon. Unfortunately, this left Darcy with much to do, and little time in which to do it, but Bingley was positively set against waiting longer, pointing out that he had had to wait nearly a fortnight longer than Darcy already; this robbed Darcy of much of the season of courtship; he had the settlements to see to, he must acquire the license, and it was absolutely necessary to go home for Georgiana—she would never forgive him, nor would he forgive himself, if she were not at the wedding. His plan was to spend a week or so in Hertfordshire, run up to London to pick up the license and settlement papers, then go on to Derbyshire to retrieve his sister. That would put him back at Netherfield with no more than days to spare, but it seemed the most reliable means of ensuring the weddings would be on time. The Reverend Mr. Hershey, vicar of the parish for Meryton, was perfectly willing to write to the Archbishop on their behalf for the special license, but felt it would be more timely for Darcy to pick up the papers, and be on site to certify the information if need be. In the most exigent case, Darcy felt he could depend on his uncle’s good offices for expedition of the matter, as he was, of course, personally known to the Archbishop.

  It was not many days after their engagement that Elizabeth’s friend, Mrs. Collins, and her husband arrived in the neighbourhood. Darcy immediately learnt that Lady Catherine, on receiving his letter announcing his engagement, had promptly abandoned all moderation of speech and temper, and, in consequence of Mrs. Collins’ close friendship with his betrothed, had levelled much of her spleen at that unfortunate lady. She had therefore retreated to the house of her father until Lady Catherine’s ire might dissipate. Elizabeth was very pleased at her arrival, although it brought Darcy back into company with her husband, which pleased no one but Collins himself. Darcy, however, was bent on making the most of his time with Elizabeth, and so had little to say to the man; nor had he much to complain of, as his lovely Elizabeth was always present to ameliorate the effects of the parson’s presence. In truth, Mr. Collins was considerably less offensive than St. Stephens, as he was at least deferential and readily silenced; he was also easier to ignore than Sir William Lucas: in his courteous benevolence, that gentleman oft-times repeated how he hoped they might all meet at St. James’s, and teazed Darcy for having stolen away the “brightest jewel in the country”. True to his resolution, however, Darcy forbore to show any disgust to these displays, and tried to take them in the amiable spirit in which they were meant.

  The most difficult to bear, perhaps, was Mrs. Bennet’s sister, Mrs. Phillips: her assertive lack of refinement wore on Darcy’s best efforts to be cordial. But he soon learnt that putting up with ignorance and a want of grace was very similar to putting up with arrogance and a want of tact, and the forbearance he had learnt in dealing with Lady Catherine stood him in good stead with this other aunt at the opposite end of the spectrum of social standing.

  He left Elizabeth early on a Friday in the middle of the month, having stretched his time with Elizabeth as far as he dared; arriving in London that afternoon, he went straight to Doctor’s Commons and was relieved to find that all was in order: he was allowed to take both his and Bingley’s licenses. The next day he went to see Mr. Colster, to review and sign the settlements; to his shock and amazement, this document, the instructions for which had taken no more than four paragraphs, extended to thirteen pages of tightly-worded legal verbiage, whose meaning was all but lost in the convoluted language of the law. After questioning Colster very minutely over each section’s meaning, and satisfying himself that the document was not, after all, an attempt to re-define the laws of the land, and in fact did no more than it was intended, he signed it and took his leave, with a most cordial shake of the hand from Colster.

  He dined that evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who made quite sure to keep their wine glasses full, and who chafed him humorously almost without pause through the entire meal: “Well, Darcy, they say that a husband is living proof a woman can take a joke, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet is to be congratulated on her most extraordinary sense of humour. To Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” Poor Darcy, who was never adept at this sort of game, always came out the worst when his cousin goaded him in this manner, but it had been a part of their friendship for so long, and was always conducted with such wit and affability, that, in truth, he quite enjoyed the experience; this time, making it even more difficult for him, with nearly every jibe the Colonel followed with a toast to Elizabeth, leaving Darcy little chance for a retort, and none at all for any clarity of thought with which to compose one.

  “I agree with Socrates,” said the Colonel, a bit later. “He said: ‘By all means marry. If you get a good wife, you will be happy. If you get a bad one, you will become a philosopher.’ And we already know your penchant for philosophy, Darcy, so you are well ahead, there. Though, perhaps in this case we should turn it on its head, as I have no doubt Miss Elizabeth Bennet will need the advice more than yourself. I give you Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

  After drinking the toast, Darcy was pleased on this occasion to be able to reply, “Yes, I know that one, but Hesiod said, ‘Whoever, fleeing marriage and the sorrows that women cause, does not wish to wed, comes to a deadly old age.’ So unless you plan on dying in battle, for which your mother would never forgive you, I suggest you re-think that position. To a happy old age!”

  Towards the end of a most entertaining evening, the Colonel said, “As my final warning, let me remind you: weddings are at the root of every unhappy marriage, so have a care with this one,” to which Darcy could offer no reply. But, having been so well accustomed to this sort of sportive repartée since childhood, he was actually quite gratified by the efforts his cousin went to, whereby he assured Darcy of how satisfied he really was with their union, as demonstrated by the length and originality of his raillery.

  Edmund’s final toast of the evening, however, was the most heartfelt: “In utmost sincerity, Darcy, may your union combine great strength of body and spirit, and may you both live long into a splendid maturity, graced by love, and with all your children and loved ones about you. To you, and your Elizabeth.” Darcy thanked him warmly, deeply affected, as both the words and the wine were strongly felt. The two friends helped each other out to the carriage, and Darcy took his cousin back with him to Grosvenor Square, to rest the better after a rather bibulous evening.

  The next morning he spent the early hours drinking coffee and writing to Elizabeth, his very first such letter; he was quite astounded at how much he missed her, having only bee
n admitted to the privilege of loving her so very lately.

  Grosvenor Square

  Saturday, October 18, --

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  It hardly seems possible that only two days have passed since we parted, although I still feel your lips on mine from your farewell kiss—an ethereal reminder of your love. Last year when I left you, your sweet smile gently haunted me wherever I would go, but now, having held you in my arms, your absence is an almost tangible punishment to me; I am amazed by this, as only a week ago I despaired of ever knowing the touch of your hand on my cheek, or the smell of your hair against it. I miss you so deeply that it feels a lifetime we have been apart; suddenly, you are become home and haven to me, and I feel rootless and alone when I am from you. All my sensibilities reach out toward you: I feel you still, here with me in my heart—your love calls to me, like a symphony whose notes come from far away; straining to catch its sweet intensity, it is all I listen for, the only sound I seek to hear.

  Occupation is my only defence against the pain of your absence, and I have contrived to remain active on our concerns, that I may return to you the sooner. The licenses are in my possession, as are the documents for the settlements, so there is only the retrieval of my sister to achieve before I can be with you again. I leave directly after breakfast, and I hope to see what speed can be made, using hired teams of six when I can find them: if it can be done, I mean to be back with you on Tuesday. I regret having to subject Georgiana to such challenging travel, but I will trust that she will not suffer greatly, as the generally dry weather has kept the roads in reasonable condition.

  That I may accomplish that goal, I shall leave off, and be on my way.

  May God protect you till my return; I am, I hope you know, your own, adoring,

  Fitzwilliam Darcy

  When his letter was complete, to his cousin he left a note of thanks, and consolation for the state of his head, and immediately began the trip back to Pemberley. The autumn colours were strikingly lovely, and the trip on this occasion seemed less lengthy than previously. Arriving on the following day, Georgiana ran to him before he could turn into the stables. He hugged her and swung her about for joy, and they neither one could talk fast enough to say half what they wished to say. As they entered, the servants were arrayed inside to greet him, and to offer their collective congratulations; he shook hands with Reynolds and Mrs. Annesley, and Mrs. Reynolds welled up with tears; Darcy kissed her cheek, which forced her to hastily excuse herself. Georgiana smiled in a pleased manner during all this ceremony and pomp, then dragged him by the arm directly to her drawing-room, where she demanded that he immediately satisfy her curiosity. He did his best, but it took the rest of that day, and most of their trip south, before she could be content that she had heard it all. Using the hackney teams of six or four, renewed at two-hour intervals, they made exceedingly good progress, arriving before dinner time on Tuesday.

  Although the Bennets had invited Darcy to make their home his own, he decided it best that they remain at Netherfield; Georgiana would not even stay to see her things unpacked; she freshened up very briefly, and the two of them went to Longbourn. As they approached, she said stoutly, “It is not large, but it looks well-kept and comfortable.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy agreed, “comfort is, I believe, one of the governing tenets of Mr. Bennet’s life. No, I should not be harsh; he is a good man, even though an indifferent father to three-fifths of his children. You will find him a bit sardonic at first, but I do believe he loves Elizabeth from his heart, and would do anything he could for her happiness. What I recommend is to try to stay close to Elizabeth, and let her tend to the rest. You will like Miss Bennet very much, I think, and of course Bingley will always be about, so you will never want for company.”

  “I keep reminding myself that it does not matter if they like me, as you will marry, regardless,” she said worriedly.

  “Dearest!” Darcy protested, “You know Elizabeth likes you already, and Miss Bennet sees nothing but good in every one she meets, so I do not know what it is you fear.”

  “What about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s parents?”

  “Frankly, her mother cannot distinguish good from bad, and judges almost exclusively by the most superficial of criteria; as you are well looking and well off, she will approve of you. And as for Mr. Bennet, he values quiet, good sense, and good manners, all of which you have in abundance. It will all be very well, trust me.”

  Elizabeth made the introductions, and so kept the formalities to a minimum; and, by intentionally introducing her father after her mother, she was able to cut short those enthusiastic expressions of approbation her mother had treasured up for the occasion. Mr. Bennet said more than usual, for him, but still little enough that Georgiana had no time to become uncomfortable by it. Miss Mary Bennet paid her compliments with quiet propriety, but Catherine seemed in awe of Georgiana’s dress and manners, and barely spoke, for which Darcy was grateful. Elizabeth and Jane took their new sister out to the hermitage to get better acquainted, and the other ladies went about their business, leaving Bingley and Darcy with Mr. Bennet.

  “Well, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said, “you have made very good time; you were successful in London?”

  “I was, Sir. I sent word of it to Elizabeth before leaving Town; perhaps my letter failed to arrive?”

  “No, I had heard it; I was rather inviting a more complete history.”

  Darcy was becoming more accustomed to Mr. Bennet’s odd manners of speech: half jesting, half testing, he was quite conversible unless in the presence of folly or ignorance. Darcy obliged him with a short recital of his time in London. Mr. Bennet was amused by his description of Colster’s grand manuscript, and declared himself most pleasantly amazed by the smooth delivery of the licenses at Doctors’ Commons. He shuddered delicately at the idea of traveling at speed, with four horses, all the way to and from Derbyshire, but congratulated Darcy on having the “fortitude of youth”. This recital and exchange having exhausted his social powers for the time being, Mr. Bennet excused himself to go to his library, leaving Darcy and Bingley by themselves.

  “This had been an extraordinary month,” said Bingley.

  Darcy shook his head wonderingly, “Lord, yes; but a good one, all the same.”

  “Indeed; the very best.”

  “Where does one go from here, I should like to know?” Darcy mused aloud. “Does having the hand and heart of one’s lady mark the heights of happiness, or is there more to hope for?”

  “Darcy,” Bingley reprimanded him, “I should have thought that by now you would have stopped trying to analyse your emotions: when has it ever served?”

  Darcy ruefully admitted, “Never; but I suppose it is rather like expecting you to read leases and such; we all have certain restrictions in our thinking, I suppose, that cannot be overcome, for all our best intentions.”

  “But, between us, we manage quite well,” Bingley grinned.

  “Between us,” Darcy agreed, grinning back, “we manage very well, indeed.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Over the next two days both Darcy and Georgiana were subject to a whirlwind of social obligations; every one in the entire neighbourhood, it seemed, came to call, either at Netherfield or Longbourn, or both, to wish the two couples joy.

  On Wednesday evening, Bingley had a large party planned; every one Darcy had met before, and quite a number of others unknown to him, were there to add their good wishes. Darcy stood with Elizabeth and his sister as the guests swirled around them; Georgiana was behind Elizabeth to one side, doing her best to remain unnoticed; she had taken Darcy’s advice and staid fixed to Elizabeth almost wherever she went, and Darcy was pleased to see how happy Elizabeth appeared to have her by her side. Elizabeth spent almost as much time talking with Georgiana as she did with her neighbours.

  As Jane and Bingley were acting as hosts, greeting the arrivals, it fell to Darcy and his bride-to-be to attend to the general conversation and comfort of their
well-wishers. As every one stopped by to offer their felicitations, Darcy found that, with Elizabeth next to him, his tolerance for sociable nothings was greatly augmented.

  Early amongst the arrivals were Sir William and Lady Lucas, who largely set the tone for the day: “Well, Mr. Darcy, you have succeeded at last, have you? I always knew you meant to. I congratulate you, Sir, but I must say,” and here Sir William could not forbear to trot out his most cherished platitude, “it is hard on the rest of us to have you take away the brightest jewel of the country!” he smiled genially at Elizabeth and shook Darcy’s hand with great warmth. Darcy returned his smile, but only because Elizabeth was blushing at hearing the compliment again, which was amusing to see.

  But the next one to raise a blush on her cheeks was her aunt, Mrs. Phillips; after prattling at him about her own happiness at the union, she told him, “I’m sure Elizabeth will make you happy, Mr. Darcy; rich as you are, she would be a fool to turn into one of those disobliging scolds, you know.” Elizabeth, her cheeks positively on fire, took Darcy’s arm and led him firmly in the opposite direction.

  It was not all mortification, of course; Mrs. Collins joined them some while later, and Darcy had always found her a person of sense. She, it turned out, had lately discovered she was with child, however, and as the conversation began to turn in that direction, Darcy allowed himself to wander off in search of Bingley; he was pleased, though, that his sister chose to stay with Elizabeth, and take part in her discussion with her friend.

  He found Bingley with Mr. Bennet and several other men standing off to one side of the room. “Come to find relief, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mr. Bennet. “Have you tired of female conversation already? Woe betide you, if your endurance is exhausted so soon.” The others smiled and laughed, and Darcy noted Bingley’s wide grin especially. Bingley was happier than Darcy had ever seen him, and that reflection gave him almost as much satisfaction as his own present good humour.