An Arranged Marriage

by Jan Hahn

  Each evening in the privacy of our bedchambers, I asked my husband if he had yet spoken to Mr. Bingley and each evening he replied in the negative. After three days of this, his recalcitrant manner began to grate on my nerves and my nightly nagging did little to endear me to him.

  "Elizabeth," he said quite forcefully on the third night, "do not ask me about this again. I shall speak to Bingley when the time is right."

  "But when shall that be? You have put this off for months, William, and now you have been in daily contact with him and still you remain silent." I had just climbed into his bed and he blew out the candles before joining me.

  "I promised you I would do it. Will you now trust me to keep my word?" The anger in his voice was unmistakable, his tone sharp; I knew I needed to back down, that I had pushed far enough. I said nothing, but the look I gave him before he extinguished the final light was full of fire. I lay down and turned on my side away from him, biting my tongue when he lay beside me. I resolved to remain silent. If he forbade me to speak on the subject again, I would not speak at all. Righteous anger caused me to swell up like a toad, and when I think back upon it now, I am grateful we lay in darkness for I am certain I was not a pretty sight.

  We remained in silence for some time. I was far too angry to go to sleep and I sensed he encountered similar difficulty. Pulling the cover over my shoulders, I tossed around several times, attempting to find a comfortable position, and made certain my disgruntled sighs were quite audible. He did not move, but his breathing revealed he was awake. After none of my obviously angry actions provoked the desired apology from him, I scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible. I lay there miserable for some time; finally I sat up, turned back the cover and threw my legs over the side.

  "Elizabeth? What are you doing?" He immediately sat up.

  "Returning to my chamber," I said evenly.

  "Is there something you need from your room? Shall I light a candle?"

  "The only thing I need is my own bed."

  "Whatever for?"

  "How can you ask that, sir? I shall never go to sleep in this mood and neither shall you. I think it best that we sleep apart tonight."

  "I do not agree. I wish for you to remain in my bed, and I ask you to respect my wishes."

  Oh, how superior he sounds! I thought. I sat there, beginning to fume and willing my voice not to betray my feelings. "I suppose you consider this an excellent opportunity for me to obey you."

  "You may choose to perceive it in that manner, but I see it as an opportunity for you to be gracious and indulge my preference."

  "And am I to remain awake throughout the night just to be deemed gracious and indulgent in your sight?"

  "I said nothing about remaining awake, Elizabeth. I want you to lie down and sleep beside me as you have done ever since we truly became husband and wife."

  The reminder of our union was not lost on me. I had reveled in our oneness, thrilled that he loved me and gave me such pleasure, for he was a patient, generous lover. Tonight, however, it was not enough to erase the harsh words that had passed between us. "I fail to see how I shall ever sleep tonight if I remain here."

  He rose from bed and lit a candle on a nearby table. "I find a good book helps me fall asleep and I know you have employed a similar habit in the past. Let me read to you."

  Read to me? What was he thinking?

  With great curiosity, I watched him walk across the room and select a book from among the myriad assortment on his shelves. When he returned to the bed, I was shocked to see that he held a Bible in his hands.

  Is it his intent to preach to me? Oh, happy thought, indeed!

  William took his time finding the passage he sought and then he laid it aside and looked into my eyes with a look that no longer contained anger. I turned away from his gaze, unwilling to let my wrath be so easily appeased.

  "Elizabeth, have I ever told you of when my mother died?"

  This new subject took me completely by surprise. I shook my head slightly.

  "I was barely fourteen years old and Georgiana very young. My mother had been ill since my sister's birth and enjoyed scant days of good health from that time on. It was as though she had been dying for more than two years. That last week my father bade me go in to see her alone, at her request. She told me she loved me and how proud of me she was, and then..." his voice almost broke, "she told me she would not be here to see me grow up and that was one thing she regretted most about leaving this world. She said she longed to see me a bridegroom and meet the woman who would be my wife. Then she had me retrieve her Bible and she instructed me to turn to several passages she knew by heart. First, she warned me to look for a good woman, for she impressed upon me that marriage is for life and I would find myself miserable if I did not heed the words of King Solomon."

  He handed me the book and pointed out two verses in Proverbs. I read aloud:

  'The contentions of a wife are a continual dropping...It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.'

  I glared at him. "Perhaps you should have paid closer attention to your mother's admonition."

  Taking the Bible from me, he smiled. "No, I listened well, for she told me to turn to the final chapter of that same book. There she showed me the type of woman I should seek and I found her:

  'Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies? The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.'

  "My heart trusts in you, Elizabeth. Will you not allow your heart to trust in me?"

  I looked away, moved both by the passage he read and the tenderness of his own declaration. Stubbornness still reigned in my heart, however, and so I spoke in a somewhat flippant manner. "I did not know you were a biblical scholar, sir."

  "Hardly, although I have read the book at my mother's insistence. I am no sermon-maker, Elizabeth, just a simple man trying to learn how to be a husband to the only woman in this world I shall ever love."

  I caught my breath when I looked up and saw the look in his eyes. "William, that is not fair."

  "What is not fair?" he said lazily, taking my hand in his.

  "How can I remain angry when you say such words and look at me in that way?"

  He smiled again. "That is my intent, dearest little wife."

  I looked away and sighed, knowing I would succumb to his charms like butter melts in the noonday sun. I resolved, however, not to make it easy for him and searched my brain for something neutral upon which to speak, delaying his victory as long as possible. "I should have liked to have known your mother."

  "She would have loved you."

  "She gave you dissimilar advice about marriage from that my mother gave me."

  "Oh? And what did your mother tell you, or do I want to know?"

  "She told me to do anything and everything you asked, to never refuse you, to keep you happy, and that way I would be sure to receive a generous amount of pin money."

  He laughed aloud, his dimples gracing his countenance in that boyish way that always made me smile. "I believe I quite like your mother's advice and it is not as dissimilar as you might think, for she referenced the Bible, as well."

  "Now there you are mistaken, sir. I know for a fact my mother knows but little of the book and she has absorbed even less from the vicar's sermons, for I have watched her struggle in vain to stay awake each Sunday morn."

  "But in her own way she quotes St. Paul." William took the Bible from me and turned the pages. "Listen to this from the Corinthian letter:

  'The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband...defraud ye not one the other.'

  "Yes, I do like your mother's advice."

  "Let me see that," I demanded, reaching for the book.

  He held it up out of my reach. "What? Do you not trust me, good wife?"

  I rose up on my knees and reached for it again, but his arms were much longer than mine, and I consequently fell against him and int
o his lap. "William, let me read it, for I believe you are making that up."

  He held me close to him with one arm and we tussled together, now laughing until I was too weak to keep trying. "Let me see it, I pray you," I finally said, but in a much more gentle voice.

  He continued to hold it aloft. "Only if you take back what you just said - you must say that you believe me, that you will always believe your lord and master as befits an obedient wife."

  I lunged for the book again, but he proved faster and stronger. "Very well, I believe you. Now will you let me see it?"

  "What is the need? You said you believed me."

  "William! I wish to read it for myself."

  He smiled again and began to kiss my cheek, working his way down to my ear and that spot on my neck just below that he knew pleasured me greatly. In doing so, he lowered his hand and I grabbed the Bible. Although it was difficult to concentrate when he continued to trail kisses up and down my neck, I lay back on his pillow and held the book close to the candle until I found the passage he had read.

  "Aha! Just as I thought, husband, you neglected to read all of St. Paul's sermon. Listen to this:

  'Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence...and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife!'

  "There, I knew there was more to it than you read. What say you to that?"

  "Far be it from me to quarrel with St. Paul." He now lay beside me, his voice soft and low. "I give you complete power over my body and I shall be glad to render due benevolence unto you, my dearest, darling little wife."

  I closed the book and placed it on the table. Who was I to argue with a saint?

  Chapter 15

  Christmas Eve arrived before we knew it. The day was spent in a flurry of activities. The decorated holly-bough was hung from the ceiling in the main drawing room and that evening Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley carried in the huge, gaily trimmed Yule log as our guests and I applauded its arrival. The youngest of the Gardiners' sons ran and sat upon it before anyone else could and so he was commended for his efforts by assurances of much good luck awaiting him in the coming new year. Mr. Darcy gave him a gold coin to begin the cycle and his brother and sisters crowded around him, exclaiming over it. My husband then lit the new log with the saved end of last year's Yule log that he and Georgiana had burned at Pemberley and our roaring Christmas fire blazed.

  Merriment and joyous cries of "Happy Christmas" could be heard all around. Georgiana carried in the Christmas candle and, after lighting it, placed it upon the mantel. It was an exceptionally large taper in order to burn through the night. The adults filled their glasses from the wassail bowl and the children were provided with cups of hot cider. When all had been served, Mr. Darcy stood before the fireplace and asked for our attention.

  "My friends and family, I wish you all a Happy Christmas. May the new year bring each of us joy, prosperity and happiness. I drink to your health." He downed his glass and then Mr. Gardiner said, "And to yours, Mr. Darcy," whereupon Mr. Bingley chimed in, "Hear, hear."

  As we sipped from our glasses, I rejoiced that we were all together in this beautiful home at the dearest time of the year. I also rejoiced to hear Mr. Bingley echo his support of my husband, for I had noticed a definite coolness upon his part the last two days. William had told me that he at last informed Mr. Bingley of his part in concealing Jane's presence in town last winter, and he apologized for ever attempting to dissuade him from courting her. Mr. Bingley was quite angry when he learned the truth and there had been little conversation between the two friends since their talk.

  "In truth, my dear," William said to me, "I know not whether Bingley is angrier with me about my concealment or because I took him to task regarding his lack of ardor toward Miss Bennet. I told him he needed to stand up and be a man. If he truly loves your sister, he should not let anything his sisters or I said keep him from declaring his intentions. He does not need my blessing."

  "And what did he say to that?" I asked.

  "He became somewhat defensive and placed the blame on my shoulders, for he said I had convinced him Jane Bennet did not care for him. I, in turn, told him he should be strong enough to keep his own counsel and discover the truth for himself. I believe he had already reached that conclusion before we spoke, for he did travel to Netherfield last month without asking my opinion. Perhaps his feelings for your sister will be the making of Bingley."

  By Christmas Eve all seemed mended, as Mr. Bingley's endearing amiability had returned. With respectful forbearance, he endured Mamá's pointed remarks whenever Jane strayed within five feet of the kissing bough and I noted he was rarely far from her side.

  The Gardiners' young daughters each stood below the bough and were promptly bussed by their father, who then lifted them up to retrieve a berry from the decorative holly. This was met with laughter and frivolity and much teasing by their brothers that "no other man will ever kiss them." Kitty caused them to cease their torment by standing beneath the holly-bough, herself, whereupon each of the little boys was goaded into claiming a kiss, one on either of her cheeks. Mortification reigned supreme upon their blushing young faces, but it served its purpose as they no longer beleaguered their sisters.

  We played games with the children and gave each of them a small gift and the room was soon littered with tiny scraps of gold paper. At last their nanny ushered them off to bed, having fed them earlier. That was the signal for the adults to enter the dining room and sit down to our Christmas Eve dinner, only the beginning of many feasts we would partake of during the twelve days of Christmastide. After dinner, Mr. Darcy surprised me by asking Georgiana and Mary to take turns playing for us so that we might dance. The servants pushed back the chairs in the music room and we soon began a rollicking reel. Each time we passed beneath the mistletoe, Mr. Darcy would steal a quick kiss from me, to the delight of my younger sisters. I could not believe with what ease he entered into the frivolity of the season. Mr. Gardiner did the same with his wife and we laughed at how she blushed.

  "Bingley, it is now your turn," Mr. Darcy called as his friend danced my oldest sister down the row. I caught my breath, shocked at my husband's rare audacity, and wondered if Mr. Bingley would carry through on his suggestion. He did! And I could not say who was pinker, Jane, Mr. Bingley or my mother, for she laughed and cheered so much so that her countenance turned positively rosy. Suddenly, I had the strongest yearning for my father's presence. Oh, he would have sat by the fire, shaking his head at the "silliest young women in England," but he would smile that smile of his and I would see the light in his eyes when he gazed upon my mother. Tonight I could see what attracted him to her all those years ago, for she appeared as much of a girl as any of her daughters. I sensed that her laughter and light-hearted spirit had attracted the cynical nature of my father, adding a dimension to his life he had never experienced before.

  The next morning we rose early to attend Christmas church services. The small sanctuary was filled with people I had come to know since moving to Derbyshire, and our neighbours hailed us with smiles and greetings of "Happy Christmas." As I sat in the pew between my husband and young sister-in-law and listened to the vicar read the old familiar story, a stream of sunlight beamed through the stained glass windows and bathed our family in its warmth. I was extremely grateful for how good God had been to me that year...a year in which I had known the greatest heartache in my life and yet the greatest happiness.

  ~ * ~

  On Boxing Day Georgiana and I had just completed wrapping the last of the servants' boxes when I heard a shriek echo from above stairs, a familiar sound I recognized as my mother's voice. Georgiana's eyes widened in wonder and we both ran up the stairs.

  "Mamá!" I cried, upon entering her sitting room. "What is wrong?"

  "Wrong? Oh, Lizzy, nothing is wrong! Everything is right in the world!" She reclined upon a chaise and Jane sat beside her, fanning her with a kerchief. From the looks on their faces, I had little doubt of what had hap
pened.

  "Jane?" I asked, stretching out her name.

  She jumped up and embraced me. "Oh, Lizzy, he loves me. Mr. Bingley loves me."

  "Well, of course he does!"

  "Oh, I cannot believe it! He wants to marry me! He has gone to my uncle this very moment."

  By that time Mary, Kitty and Mrs. Gardiner had rushed into the room and there was such a commotion that some of the servants put in an appearance to see what was the matter.

  "When did he ask you?" Kitty asked.

  "Did he kneel down?" Georgiana wanted to know.

  "When is the wedding?" Mary added.

  Jane tried her best to answer each of their questions, but they came with such haste, it was nigh impossible. Mrs. Gardiner eventually managed to shush everyone and allowed Jane to tell us the details.

  "He asked me this morning, only a short time ago."

  "I knew it would happen!" Mamá interrupted. "I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing!"

  "Where did it happen?" I asked.

  "We took a stroll around your garden, Lizzy. Yesterday's sun melted some of the snow and the wind died, so it was quite pleasant out of doors."

  "And that is possibly the only place you could be alone, am I not correct?" I asked, laughing.

  She smiled and nodded. "He said he has loved me ever since he first came to Netherfield. He did not know I was in London last winter, Aunt. That is why he never called at Gracechurch Street. I do not understand why Caroline or Mrs. Hurst did not tell him, but it is no matter now. All is made right, for he wants us to be married as soon as possible, Mamá."