by Jan Hahn
Chapter 1
My Aunt Philips delights in quoting proverbs. She also delights in repeating them on occasions she deems appropriate. Actually, she delights in repeating almost everything she hears whether appropriate or not, but that is neither here nor there.
As for proverbs, her favourite is Happy is the bride that the sun shines on. She echoed it incessantly during the seven days before my wedding (which happened to be the entire length of my engagement) and on the morning of said event, when the heavens erupted in a storm of such magnitude the likes of which I cannot describe to this day, she shook her head, rolled her eyes and tsk-tsked at such length that Mamá finally threatened her with banishment if she did not give over.
That morning an explosion of thunder awakened our household at dawn with such force that I fully expected to witness Napoleon's cannon outside my window. If truth be told, such woe could not have been less welcome than the ceremony awaiting me. I stood at the window, looked out at the storm clouds unleashing their fury, and judged the day perfect for my wedding.
At the hour we were to walk the short distance to the church, a hard, steady downpour caused Mamá to call for the carriages instead. I am sure it was a festive sight to see - a bevy of black umbrellas shielded our small bridal party of relatives as we hurried from Longbourn church to the carriages and then back to our house for the wedding breakfast. And shortly afterwards, if perchance any villagers had ventured out in such a storm or peeked through their windows, they would have seen me step quickly to avoid the puddles between the entrance to my childhood home and my new husband's carriage bound for London. What they would fail to see was that part of me that yearned to splash through the mud in the opposite direction and lock myself safe within the house.
I now watched the raindrops trickle down the carriage window while the cumbersome vehicle lurched back and forth on the road to town and my new life. Obviously, the mud grew deeper, for we seemed to reel from rut to rut. The farther we traveled the greater the storm progressed in strength, as though heaven, itself, could not but weep at the travesty of the union I entered into less than four hours previous. The man who sat on the opposite seat averted his face, choosing to pay as close attention to nature's deluge outside his window as I did.
We had said little to each other since the journey began; indeed, what was there to say? Ill at ease with nothing in common, thrust into an awkward situation, each one wary of the other, we had ridden in silence for at least the last ten miles. I smoothed the creases in my skirt, observing that the black bombazine melted into the ebony of the fine leather seats. Propriety deemed that I could have worn grey or at least a mixture of black and white, perhaps a stripe, especially since I was a bride, but I chose the same shade I had worn every day since the funeral. Black shoes, gloves and cloak, as well as a dark veil over my bonnet caused me to appear as one in deep mourning, which, again, I considered appropriate for the day.
I swept my eyes over the interior of the coach, noting its richness and lustre. The upholstery gleamed almost as much as my companion's highly polished boots had shone earlier in the day. Now flecks of mud spoiled the reflection. My eyes traveled from his boots to the long grey coat that he wore, evoking memories of the times I saw him wear it before - at Netherfield in the earliest days of our acquaintance almost a year ago when my sister, Jane, had been taken ill and convalesced there and most recently on the morning after I refused his first proposal of marriage. What were those words with which I rejected him - I had not known you a month before I knew that you were the last man I would ever marry!
"Are you warm enough?" Mr. Darcy asked, jarring me back to the present. "There is a rug available if you are chilled."
"Perfectly, sir. I have no need of anything."
He turned his face back to the window. "We should reach town by sundown if this blasted storm does not delay us."
I closed my eyes in dread at the thought and turned my countenance back to the rain soaked landscape. This would be our wedding night and a more reluctant bride did not exist. Of course, I had been assured there would be no intimacy until I desired it, for that was a spoken term of the marriage, if not a written one. I blushed at the remembrance of Mr. Darcy's words, "You need have no fear that I shall demand my conjugal rights. The marriage will not be consummated until you come to my bed willingly."
"It may well be a frigid day in July before I do!" I replied.
"As you like." He raised one eyebrow, piercing my carefully preserved armor of indignity with his dark, brooding stare. "But I do expect an heir, Miss Bennet. That is one of the terms of this contract. Make sure you have a change of heart before you are past child-bearing years."
"Then you had better take back the word willingly, Mr. Darcy."
"I shall not. I have never forced my will on any woman and I shall not begin with you. If you cannot foresee eventually having my child, then you must refuse this offer."
"Have I not already? Did I not refuse you six months ago at Hunsford, sir?"
"You did, but circumstances have changed, as you are well aware."
I blanched at his words and remembered how carefree I had been in the spring whilst visiting Charlotte and Mr. Collins, how I had dismissed Mr. Darcy's first proposal with all my righteous anger. And I had been correct in doing so. Never had a man proposed in so insolent a manner. He assumed I would drop to my knees and thank him for his great condescension in stooping to marry one so socially inferior. Well, I had put him in his place by refusing him with an equal omission of civility and from the look on his face, I could tell that my words had penetrated his arrogance. Only three days later my light-hearted world had crashed about me. A post arrived at midnight announcing the death of my beloved father in a hunting accident. His gun had discharged as he bent to retrieve a bird he had just bagged. In April, when new life burst forth all around us, my gentle, kind father had died a most violent death; a death that should not have happened; a death that had far reaching consequences for, you see, my father's estate was entailed away upon his cousin, Mr. Collins, and he left only the smallest of fortunes to provide for his widow and five daughters. He had never been a man who looked ahead and with a spendthrift wife who loved to dress her daughters as well as herself in the latest finery, extra funds evaporated before they could be tucked away.
Now, here in the carriage I sighed as I remembered how I boarded the early coach for Meryton the next morning. I did not even spare time to take leave of Lady Catherine. I arrived home to find my sisters devastated and I was struck at how suddenly small and lost my mother appeared.
Mr. Darcy looked up at the sound of my sigh, but said nothing. We continued on our journey in silence, a state that suited me. He was such a taciturn man, perhaps we would avoid conversation throughout this marriage, saying as little as possible to each other. I had no desire to talk to him and I knew he felt the same, for in the whole of our acquaintance, he rarely carried on any conversation with me. Instead, he attempted to wither me with his long, steady, disapproving looks. He was mistaken. I refused to wither.
Lightning flashed through the windows and a crash of thunder shook the carriage. I heard the sound of additional horses and voices and sat forward to look out, observing that we had arrived in a small village. Our vehicle pulled to a stop and I could hear the shout of men's voices. Mr. Darcy immediately opened the door.
"The bridge is out up ahead, sir," the driver said. The locals say we can't get through until the storm subsides."
"Is there not an alternate route?"
"No, sir. This road be the only one passable in this kind of weather, sir."
"Blast!"
"There is an inn, sir. It's not much, but at least it's dry."
Mr. Darcy nodded and closed th
e door, brushing the water from his coat. "It seems we have no choice. We shall have to spend the night in this God-forsaken place."
"It matters little where I stay."
He pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw.
The inn was small and rustic to say the least. Mr. Darcy's footman had gone ahead and per orders, informed the owner that his master was a gentleman and required the very best suite of rooms. We walked in to overhear him inform the man that it was our wedding night. The fat, balding little man laughed coarsely and elbowed his wife in the ribs.
"Their wedding night? They will have no need of a suite, then, will they, dearie? Just a great big bed! Which is a good thing, as we got naught but one room vacant in the whole house. See that other fancy carriage out there? A family of four got here just a'fore you. We done let the other two rooms to them."
The footman argued repeatedly, offered more money, and finally resorted to threats, but to no avail. Only one empty room remained and the owner could not conjure up another. Mr. Darcy swore and attempted, himself, to persuade the innkeeper to find more accommodations, but it was useless. I followed Mr. Darcy and the man up the stairs into the available bedchamber, all the while conscious of his wife's stares and whispers to the barmaid. "I never seen no bride dressed in black before."
The room was small, but clean. Mr. Darcy stomped around inspecting it while the innkeeper lit the fire. An old chaise that had seen better days sat on the left just inside the door, two straight chairs and a small table were placed near the fireplace, a narrow armoire rested against one wall with a dresser and mirror opposite and, of course, in the most prominent position in the room sat the bed.
"Supper will be ready in about an hour, sir, and my missus can assist your lady whenever she's needed. Is there anything else I can bring you, Mr. Darcy?"
"A bottle of brandy," he said, his speech clipped and angry.
"Yes, sir, right away, sir," the innkeeper repeated several times as he hurried from the room.
I walked to the fireplace, removed my bonnet and shook the raindrops from it. I stretched out my hands to the warmth of the blaze and could not help but smile slightly at the sight of Mr. Darcy pacing back and forth.
"It is not so bad," I said at last.
He stopped and looked at me. "You think not? No, you would not, for you at least have a bed, while I shall be forced to sleep upright on a hard bench in the common room."
"If you do, it will cause talk."
He gave me an inquiring look.
"Your servants are aware this is our wedding night and it seems they have informed the innkeeper. If we spend the night apart, they will know this marriage is a sham. I have nothing to lose by that revelation, but I would think you wish to avoid such disclosure this early in the game. I recall that you said we were to act as though we are married in every respect when in the company of others. Was that not one of your requirements?"
Mr. Darcy stared at me, as though measuring my intent in reminding him of his demands. From head to toe and back again, he slowly surveyed my form. I felt a flush creep up my neck to my face and when I spoke, I was disconcerted that my voice came out somewhat higher than usual. "I did not say that, sir, to invite you into my bed. I have no objection, however, if you sleep on the chaise. Perhaps you might request an additional blanket."
Mr. Darcy looked at the lumpy old chaise, its springs sagging with an obvious sway in the middle, to the bed and back again. "Very well," he said at last. "If you have no objection, Madam."
"None, as long as you afford me privacy to dress for bed and retire while you remain below stairs."
"I would not have it any other way," he said and stalked out of the room.
For some reason his last words stung. Why, I did not know, but it felt as though he rejected me physically, a feeling I did not like. Six months earlier at Hunsford he had declared that he loved and admired me, that almost from the beginning of our acquaintance he had felt a passionate regard for me. His second proposal contained no like statements, but I assumed some slight feeling still existed on his part, even though the subsequent offer was more like a business arrangement than any semblance of romantic application. I drew near a mirror on the far wall and smoothed the slight frizz of my curls caused by the humidity outside. Peering at my image, I noted the dark smudges under my eyes and the pinched hollows in my cheeks. I was much thinner than when at Hunsford, and I had slept little since this whole marriage idea had been thrust upon me. Did Mr. Darcy now find me unappealing? Had I lost the bloom that attracted him in the first place? And if so, why should it matter? I disliked the man exceedingly.
A knock at the door preceded the entrance of the innkeeper's wife carrying a china pitcher and bowl. The barmaid followed with towels draped across one arm and a well-worn quilt on the other, and the innkeeper walked in with a tray containing two glasses and a bottle of brandy which he placed on the small table near the fireplace. The maid spread the multi-colored quilt over the foot of the bed, smoothed it out and turned it back so that it might be easily pulled up in the night.
"Here's your husband's brandy, Ma'am," the man said, "although from the number of drinks he's had downstairs, I doubt he'll need much of it when he returns to you." He laughed and poked his wife in the ribs once again. Believe me, if he were my husband, I would put a stop to those pokes.
"Go on with you, now," she said, shooing him out, "whilst I help the lady with her toilette. You'll be wanting to dress for dinner, I suppose, Missus, although around these parts it's more of a cold supper."
The maid poured water into the basin and placed the towels on the dresser beside it.
"No," I said, "I shall go as I am."
"As you wish, Ma'am," the woman said, but I caught her raising her eyebrows at the maid. "Is there anything you be needing then?"
I shook my head and the two women made their exit. I could see no reason to dress for dinner in that place. Surely Mr. Darcy would not expect it, especially since I wore my very best dress already, my very best mourning dress, that is. Once again, I recalled the look of surprise on his face when I appeared at the altar that morning dressed completely in black. My mother and I were the only ones to be so attired. Even Jane had discontinued the deep mourning clothes and resorted to grey and black pinstripes some months back. My younger sisters had discarded theirs much sooner and now wore only dark ribbons on their bonnets, Kitty sometimes neglecting even those. At times I felt that all of them had forgotten our father, except for me. My mother rarely wept any more, especially since she was no longer to be thrown out of Longbourn. Was I the only one who still felt his loss with such a piercing bite?
Well, whatever Mr. Darcy felt about my dress had been the least of my concerns when I walked down the aisle. Getting through the marriage vows was the task that had almost caused me to run from the church.
"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health..."
I heard the vicar read the familiar words from the Book of Common Prayer, but when he paused and looked up to hear my assent, the lump in my throat ballooned to such a size that it constricted my breathing. I had to swallow twice before whispering, "I will."
When he continued and I heard Mr. Darcy utter his vows aloud, it sounded like a dull roar in my ears and I could not have told you one word that he uttered. Then it was my turn to repeat after the minister, but all I could hear was the same voice in my head scream over and over, "You are lying! Lying! Lying!"
Swaying slightly, I closed my eyes and shook my head with the tiniest of movements as though I might somehow clear the voices from my mind.
"Miss Bennet?" the vicar said softly, indicating that it was my turn to respond.
I opened my eyes and searched the old man's kind-looking face. He must have assumed I simply suffered an attack of nerves and so repeated the words for me to say. This time I for
ced myself to listen and I responded in kind.
"I, Elizabeth, take thee, Fitzwilliam, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to..." here I faltered, wishing to beseech the vicar. Could he not see the desperation in my eyes?
"To love, cherish and to obey, until death us do part..." he prodded.
I took a deep breath. I could feel Mr. Darcy's presence beside me and I turned slightly toward him to see if he would permit me to stand there and lie before God and these witnesses, but his face was turned away from me, his gaze straight ahead, the light in his eyes having turned deadly grey.
"To...to love," there, I had said it. Now I could continue and repeat the rest of the phrase, but my voice sounded toneless and dead in my ears.
Mr. Darcy must have put a ring on my finger, for I felt it now as I washed my hands and face with the water provided, but I had no memory of his placing it there. I blocked out the remainder of the entire ceremony, the short wedding breakfast thereafter, the best wishes of the few guests in attendance, my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, the Philips, and of course, Mamá and my sisters. Was there anyone from Mr. Darcy's family in attendance? I could not remember. Surely someone had stood up with him, as Jane had done for me. Oh yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I vaguely remembered him press my hands before we left Longbourn and the sympathetic look in his eyes as he bid me farewell. Why could not he have been born heir to a fortune and asked for my hand? I do not love him, but I do hold him in high regard. His kindness and pleasing manner are in such contrast to that of his cousin. Surely I could be a wife to him with ease and affection.
Suddenly a great weariness washed over me and I sank down upon the bed and closed my eyes for just a moment. Some two hours later I vaguely sensed someone's presence. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Darcy standing close to the bed. With a swift motion, he raised his hand to smooth his hair. Had he been about to touch me? I immediately sat up and looked around, observing the darkness outside the window.
