The Inseparable Mr. and Mrs. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  Elizabeth kicked herself for whispering loudly enough for Mr. Collins to hear. He would make a scene at Charlotte’s and Jane’s wedding feast.

  Father clenched his hands together and put them in his lap, whispering as loudly as he could without being overheard by others, “No. I will not spoil Jane’s day.”

  Like Father, Elizabeth would never wish to diminish Jane's joy. One voiced concern over his health and neither she nor Mr. Bingley would think twice about canceling their wedding tour — a brief tour of only one month, at that. Jane always put others before herself, making Elizabeth protect her interests all the more … even when it meant a delay in her own wedding. Thirty days.

  Father clutched his stomach, measuring his breaths. "I will be well. It is only a slight malaise which will pass just as quickly as it overtook me. I daresay it was brought on by all the excitement of late."

  Mr. Collins remarked, “You are getting several concerned glances. Please allow me to speak with Sir William.”

  “No,” hissed Father, a layer of sweat covering his pale cheeks.

  Elizabeth looked around the table to see Jane’s worry written plainly across her face. “Father, if you are unwell—”

  “Distract her, Lizzy. She must not change her plans or I will feel like the worst father in the world,” he panted. “Lord knows I should have done better, but I will not disappoint her now.” His bushy eyebrows bunched over his imploring eyes.

  Elizabeth could not refuse his request. He had been in fine spirits earlier that morning. Perhaps he was correct and his malaise would soon pass. It had hit him rather suddenly. What had he requested? … A distraction.

  Elizabeth motioned to a servant. She would arrange for the butler to call her father away.

  Before the servant had reached her, Mr. Collins pushed back from his chair. Rising to his feet, he tapped his glass with his spoon so enthusiastically the edge chipped off to sink to the bottom of his wine. Evidently, he felt it appropriate to offer his congratulatory remarks along with the fathers of the brides. The broken glass and his presumption drew every eye around the table to the clergyman.

  Not trusting Mr. Collins’ ability to effect a distraction to completion, Elizabeth made her request and the servant nodded his understanding, then proceeded to take Mr. Collins’ glass away before he could hurt himself by drinking from it, replacing it with another.

  Mr. Collins bowed repeatedly, looking at nobody in particular and yet addressing everyone in the room. "As Mr. Bennet's cousin and the rector at Lady Catherine de Bourgh's Hunsford parish, I feel it appropriate to add my blessing to Mr. and Mrs. Bingley’s and Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam's unions. As my great patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would say: ‘A young man is not useful to his community unless he is married.’ I hope both of you gentlemen will serve others in your exalted state as wedded men and that your wives will contribute greatly to your happiness."

  Elizabeth bit her tongue. She ought not let his senseless words rile her — as if marital happiness depended solely on the woman and not the mutual efforts of a man and wife. If he believed his own utterance, he was the worst sort of fool (though his absolute ignorance of his faults and exalted sense of worth usually garnered her pity, not her scorn). Then again, how could she judge him a fool when he did not possess sense enough to know it?

  They raised their glasses, holding them awkwardly up when Mr. Collins did not yet drink from his fresh glass. He was not done with his soliloquy.

  With a blush, he continued, "It is my greatest wish to join you in my own blissful marriage soon. My patroness demands it." He looked pointedly at Mary, who blanched and squirmed in her seat. It was not the reaction Elizabeth had expected to see from Mary, but Elizabeth thought all the better of her sister for it.

  Any compassion Elizabeth had extended toward Mr. Collins after the part he played in bringing Mother’s killer to justice shriveled up and dried away. How dare he publicly make Mary his target when her reaction made it obvious she did not wish it!

  Aunt Philips nodded in approval as Mother would have done. (Only, Mother would have secured a proposal and an acceptance before Mr. Collins could take his seat.)

  Father, who had been unable to hold his glass for the time required by Mr. Collins' hopeful declaration, said, "Thank you, Mr. Collins," and sipped from his glass, bringing an abrupt end to the speech.

  Only then did Mr. Collins deem to sit, though he did so reluctantly and with several apprehensive glances in Mary's direction.

  Elizabeth had thought Mary well-suited to Mr. Collins. She loved to recite sermons and they held a mutual love for horticulture — in particular, the care of roses. Perhaps her removal from Longbourn to Uncle Philips’ home in the village had improved her taste. Uncle often praised Mary for her efficiency and ability to memorize entire texts as well as the location of every bit of paper in his office, which she had undertaken to put to order. And Aunt treated her like the daughter she had never had.

  Where Mary might have made herself the martyr for the benefit of her family and accepted an offer from Mr. Collins a month before, it appeared she would not be so quick to do so now. In fact, at that moment, she looked rather annoyed at Mr. Collins. Elizabeth was annoyed as well.

  Father groaned and Elizabeth turned in her chair. When would the butler call Father away?

  Fortunately, Mr. Tanner grimaced and stabbed at the cold cuts on his plate and Sir William took that moment to remark how most everyone at their gathering was either married or very soon to be. "You are of a good, ripe age to marry, Mr. Tanner. I daresay you will be next to fall prey to Aphrodite's spell."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam roared in laughter. "That would be the day pigs grow wings and fly, Sir William. A sight I should very much like to see."

  William struggled to keep his composure. By way of explanation, he informed Sir William, "Mr. Tanner does not take kindly to change. He fears a woman would upend his life."

  Sir William chuckled. "As she would. As she should!"

  Mr. Tanner growled at his dish, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed his fork. If any man stood to improve from the softening influence of a woman, it was him.

  The butler came in, begging pardon as he approached Father and whispering to him just as Elizabeth had requested. Finally!

  “I do apologize. Please excuse me for a moment.” Father placed his napkin on top of his plate. His hands trembled and he rammed into the back of his chair before the butler could pull it away from the table, but he smiled as he departed.

  No matter what he said, he was not well. Elizabeth was worried.

  “Is that what most gentlemen fear?” she asked with a smile, signaling for William to continue the conversation so Father’s absence would not be so noticeable.

  He did, just as she knew he would. “Perhaps so, though it is unfounded if the gentleman marries the correct woman. It has been my pleasure to observe in several couples of my acquaintance how a lady improves the character of her husband. I am convinced our friends for whom we are gathered here today shall be fortunate in that regard.”

  Mr. Hurst, who until then had concentrated solely on the heaped mound of food atop his plate, agreed with a resounding, “Here, here!” As if he were one of the fortunate men to have been improved by his own wife. From the wide-eyed, blushing aspect of Mrs. Hurst, this news came as a shock to her, but it was a compliment she was pleased to accept … whether he meant it for her or not.

  Aunt Philips postulated how she was privileged to know many such couples.

  Mrs. Hurst, now an expert on the subject, supposed she might enjoy a more extensive acquaintance than the others present, given her upbringing in London.

  Sir William determined that his age, superior to that of both ladies, certainly qualified him to be an authority on the matter.

  And thus began a somewhat friendly debate where, naturally, Jane and Mr. Bingley attempted to convince their friends and relatives that each was correct without taking sides when nobody could be brought
to agree.

  Their attention thus distracted, Elizabeth felt free to excuse herself from the table in search of Father.

  She found him clutching his stomach by the stairwell, the housekeeper and the butler at his side. She rushed to him. "Papa, let me help you."

  The butler said, “I apologize, Miss, he will not allow me to call for the apothecary.”

  They assisted him into an unused room with a settee. Elizabeth sat in front of him as he settled. A maid brought a cushion for his head and a washbowl with a cloth which Elizabeth used to bathe his forehead, cleaning the sweat on his brow and calming him with her soft speech and gentle touch. He did not refuse her attentions or move, but lay there as if he were too exhausted to even flinch or offer any protests.

  William poked his head into the room, his body following when he saw them. Pulling a chair close, he sat, leaning forward and speaking in a soothing voice. "Mr. Bennet, please allow me to call the apothecary until my physician arrives from London. I will send for him directly."

  The butler stood nearby awaiting orders, clearly wishing to be of service.

  Father opened his eyes abruptly. "Absolutely not! I will allow no one to spoil my Janey's wedding day, me least of all." He paused to breathe deeply.

  "Papa, Jane would want to know if you are unwell."

  Father grabbed Elizabeth's wrist, holding her firmly. "Promise you will not tell her. She will alter her plans and I would never forgive myself for it. I made an oath. I swore on your mother’s grave that I would never again act selfishly toward my daughters, and I will not go back on my promise at the first difficulty.”

  Elizabeth could not help but think his refusal to grant his consent for her wedding bordered on selfish. However, she could not expect him to change so completely in so little time. Small steps.

  He continued, “Please, Lizzy. I am certain it is only grief from which I suffer. Grief and a house much quieter than I am accustomed to. Once time passes … I shall be myself again.” He loosened his hold on her wrist, his voice losing its strength as he sank into the pillow. “Today has merely been too much for me."

  "I miss Mama, too," Elizabeth acknowledged, stroking his side whiskers and noting the dark circles surrounding his eyes. How had she not noticed how tired he was?

  Tears filled the corners of his eyes. "Do not take each other for granted as I did your mother. Never allow a day to pass without strengthening your attachment. How different our lives would have been had I done so." The tears spilled down his cheeks. He brushed them away, leaving a trembling hand over his eyes.

  Elizabeth caught William's gaze. This was precisely why they had not yet married. He looked every bit as frustratingly resigned as she felt at that moment. Father had requested only time enough for Jane to return to Netherfield Park before Elizabeth could marry William with his full blessing and consent. She tried not to resent the wait, but his stipulation bore merit. How could she possibly leave her father in such a state? How could she add to his burdens by departing from Longbourn too soon? Drat it all!

  William covered her hand with his and she felt his support. "Mr. Bennet, allow me to reassure you that I will not take Elizabeth away from you before you are ready. I would not do you the injustice of adding to your woes when you have so recently lost your wife. My feelings for Elizabeth remain the same. If need be, I will lease a house nearby."

  Father chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face and dropping it by his side as if it were too heavy to hold up. "You are very kind, Mr. Darcy. It would be selfish of me to keep you from your home. Lizzy’s place is with you at Pemberley. This shall pass, and I take comfort that you are not the sort of gentleman to change his mind once it is set."

  "He had better not!" Elizabeth exclaimed, adding with an arched brow, "I would hold the emeralds hostage until he came to his senses."

  As she had intended, William laughed. Father tried.

  "Be gone with you, now, before we are missed. I do not want Jane to worry about me." Father pushed Elizabeth's hand off his forehead, sitting up and forcing a smile. "I will join you shortly. I only need a moment more to collect myself."

  Elizabeth hesitated.

  "Go, Lizzy. Let Mr. Darcy see you back to the feast."

  William stood, extending his hand out to her. They crossed the room and she looked back at the grayish figure of her father before they closed the door behind themselves.

  Chapter 3

  No sooner had they stepped onto the marble hall than William pulled her into a corner between the carved, wooden stairwell and a tapestried wall.

  Elizabeth wondered how many years would pass before her heart grew accustomed to William's touch. How long her skin would tingle and her breath would tremble when his fingertips traced down her arm, sending a trail of molten embers tumbling through her limbs and leaving her weak-kneed.

  "This changes nothing," he said, his eyes searching her face and lingering for a deliciously long time on her lips. "Our wedding will not be delayed a day longer. If it means I must take up residence in Meryton, then, so be it."

  "You cannot know how happy I am to hear you say that," she said, rising up on her toes just in case he wished to steal a kiss.

  He stepped away from her, deeper into the shadows. Oh no, Fitzwilliam Darcy, you will not escape from me, thought Elizabeth, stepping forward with each he took in retreat.

  "You will be the death of me, Elizabeth Bennet," he said, his breath as shaky as hers was, she noticed to great satisfaction.

  "Til death do us part," she said, undeterred.

  He caressed her cheeks with his hands and tugged on a tendril of loose hair by her ear, wrapping his finger around her tresses as if he hoped they could restrain him.

  "Why did you not wear your emeralds?" he asked.

  "Are you attempting to distract me, Mr. Darcy?" she teased.

  He swallowed hard. "I am curious."

  "As am I. Dare you risk discovery by stealing a kiss from your betrothed?"

  "You refuse to answer my question?"

  "I will answer your question when you answer mine." It was a bold challenge, but she felt such a desperate need for the comfort only he could give her, she was willing to throw caution to the wind for a kiss. Just one kiss. One reminder of William's steadfast devotion in the midst of her anxieties. One reassurance that they were now a team. Whatever befell them, they would face it together … although, surely, the worst was behind them.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his lips and brushed them over hers.

  She leaned closer to him, feeling the warmth of his closeness, and promptly jumped away when the stairs creaked directly above their heads.

  "Who fears discovery now?" William teased.

  Elizabeth scowled at herself. She did not fear discovery, but the creak had been loud enough to give her a fright. "Blasted stairs," she said under her breath.

  He reached for her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the insider of her wrist. "Indeed. And for your information, I would have the world know how much I love you. I would declare myself from the rooftops were it not so undignified."

  "That you would even consider effecting such a public display shows tremendous progress," she laughed, turning her hand over to caress his cheek and delighting in the tiny prickles rubbing against her skin. "And to be fair, I shall now answer your question. I did not wear my emeralds because Jane does not possess anything so fine as my jewels. It would have been unfair to her and today is her day. Mine will come soon enough."

  "Not soon enough to suit me," he grumbled, pulling her hand down to hold against his chest. His heart hammered against her palm.

  "I admit I will feel much better when both myself and your gift are safely installed at Darcy House or at Pemberley." Elizabeth had hid her emerald necklace and earrings, a present William had arranged for her even before she had accepted his hand, in the only hiding place Lydia had not yet discovered — in a box under a loose floorboard beneath her bed.

  "You are far mo
re valuable to me than a million emeralds. I will call every day until Bingley returns."

  "Even when your sister arrives?" she asked cautiously. The only reason Elizabeth could give for Miss Darcy’s absence was that the young lady disapproved of her brother’s choice.

  "Especially when Georgiana arrives. She will love your company as much as I do, and I shall soon grow jealous of her demands upon your attention."

  If only Elizabeth believed his optimism. "Do not be so certain. She may very well be jealous of your attention toward me. Otherwise, I do not understand why she has delayed in joining us in Hertfordshire."

  His forehead furled for long enough to justify her worry. William had thought of it too.

  He covered his concern with confidence — a trait she now admired. With a tilt of his chin and a curl at the side of his mouth, he said, "I believe I know my sister better than you do."

  Elizabeth shoved him, smiling widely as she curtsied. "I defer to your superior knowledge, sir. I hope you are right, as my sisters are trouble enough without adding another."

  She turned to join their party in the dining room. They had been away too long.

  Darcy lingered behind until Mr. Bennet appeared in the hall. His appearance had not improved, but the elderly gentleman’s resolve was firm. Joining the party at the table, Darcy often looked at Mr. Bennet, though not so much as to call attention to his pale complexion and trembling hands, which he clasped in his lap between minuscule bites from his plate. Elizabeth, for her part, did her best to be covertly attentive to her father.

  And yet, for all their care, Mrs. Bingley noticed anyway.

  William saw her whisper to Elizabeth as the ladies departed for the drawing room. Darcy sat beside Mr. Bennet while the gentlemen partook of their brandy and cigars and offered their repeated congratulations.

  Preferring light conversation, Darcy soon fell into an enlightening debate about the satirical work and verses of Mr. Peacock with Mr. Bennet. Darcy had hoped the intellectual discussion would ease Mr. Bennet's discomfort, but it did not.