by Adams, Alexa
“However will Mary manage to look the bride next to Jane I wonder?” Lydia, in her typical fashion, jumped to a new topic of conversation, never willing to discuss any subject, except finery and gentleman, at any length.
Kitty was happy to think on lighter subjects and responded, “If Mama has her way, with a great deal too much lace!” Both girls laughed heartily.
“When I marry I mean to have a far more fashionable gown than those our sisters have chosen. Surely something from Paris! I wonder what Lizzy will wear when she marries Mr. Darcy? That will surely be a grand affair.”
“By your own admission, do you not mean if she marries Mr. Darcy?”
“Oh not again Kitty! It is all far too tiresome!” Lydia sighed. “When we are in school I imagine the Darcy connection will be of great advantage in establishing our position socially. Oh, I do hope that Papa chooses the school in Bath! What fun we should have with so many balls and such a continuous supply of new gentlemen to meet!”
“Look Lydia,” Kitty pointed ahead of her as they drew near the town, “is that not Miss Bingley?”
Indeed it was Miss Bingley, walking along the opposite side of the road, totally oblivious to the Bennet sisters and entirely engrossed by her escort – none other than Mr. Wickham.
Lydia called out a cheerful greeting before Kitty could prevent her. Miss Bingley started and looked up, staring for a moment without a hint of recognition. Finally she recovered and nodded the briefest of acknowledgments before proceeding on her way. Mr. Wickham bowed handsomely and followed her.
“Why must Wickham be the most handsome of all the officers!” Lydia lamented, swooning slightly at his gallantry. “If only Papa were not so stubbornly set against him! Surely he would find my company to be far more amiable than that of the stuffy Miss Bingley!”
“Mr. Darcy calls him a thorough scoundrel, Lydia. His company should not be lamented.”
“Really Kitty! You almost sound like Lizzy, or even Mary!”
Kitty ignored the taunt. “Perhaps we should inform Papa that we saw them together. Mr. Bingley would certainly disapprove of the association.”
“I am sure Miss Bingley knows what she is about,” Lydia declared with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Oh Kitty! Just look at that bonnet!”
Distracted by merchandise the girls dropped the subject altogether, never to resume it. After a very pleasant day of shopping and visiting they returned home prepared to pen requests to their Aunt Gardiner for all the items they were happily unable to find, regale their mother with all the gossip gleaned from their Aunt Phillips, and continue to rejoice in all the wedding plans and other excitements that had of late filled their happy world. Mr. Wickham and Miss Bingley were long forgotten.
Chapter 19
An unforeseen benefit, from Elizabeth’s perspective, of Mary’s time being almost entirely consumed with wedding details was that the pianoforte was uncommonly available. This was particularly fortunate as the distraction of her much neglected practice helped Elizabeth to keep from dwelling on the turmoil of her emotions regarding Mr. Darcy. That morning she had been playing with unaccustomed diligence for several hours, much longer than she had ever been previously known to attend to her music, and so lost in her thoughts was she that she did not perceive the noise accompanying the arrival of the gentlemen from Netherfield. Thus Mr. Darcy was able to stand in the doorway, Elizabeth completely unaware of his presence, and observe her as she played.
Could she have seen him, she would have noted the slight smile that graced his handsome face as he leaned in the doorway and wondered what it portended. He would never have admitted, not at such an early stage of their relationship, to imagining Elizabeth, in clear transposition, gracing Pemberley with her lovely presence. He envisioned her with Georgiana, spending countless hours together in the fine music room, with its beautiful view of the grounds, sharing and relishing each others accomplishments while bonding together in sisterly affection. He wanted this daydream to become reality so badly it manifested itself as a physical ache. Any lingering hesitation he might still have been harboring regarding the action he was about to take was fully vanquished by this felicitous image.
“That was remarkably lovely,” he said when she paused. She started slightly at the sound of his voice but, though overcome by a delightful anticipation, did not turn round to greet the intruder. To do so would be to expose the blush that currently warmed her cheeks. She knew not how welcome the sight would have been.
“And who is this who comes upon me so suddenly?” she teased and resumed her performance, now playing softly so that conversation could easily continue. “It surely does not sound like one of my sisters.”
“No, I must admit it is not one of your sisters, unless one is so unfortunate as to suffer from a terribly calamity of the throat,” he tossed back. “How does this woman do this to me?” he wondered at his own merriment.
Elizabeth laughed, stopped playing, and turned to greet him, her skin now its customary shade, with a brilliant smile that made his heart leap. “Mr. Darcy, you have returned. Welcome back to Hertforshire sir. I trust your travels went well?” She gestured towards a chair in which he happily settled himself.
“My trip to Rosings, though encompassed by rain, was most successful. My aunt, Lady Catherine, finds herself resigned that I shall never be more than her nephew and commands me forthwith to find a hale and hearty wife.”
It was no use. She was once again in full blush and had no means to hide it but to stare down at her hands, furtively folded in her lap. How to respond? “That is felicitous,” she nervously replied. Darcy, as usual, found delight in her discomfort. Though he had no cruel desire to needlessly torment her, he was thrilled with his ability to render the quick witted woman he loved speechless. Nevertheless, in all their interaction they had been direct with each other – it was what marked their intercourse as unique – and he had every intention of continuing the trend at this most important moment.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began, suddenly feeling rather nervous himself, “I found that you were constantly in my thoughts during my absence. I cannot express the pleasure it is to once again be in your company.” He paused, losing his equilibrium in her expectant look.
“Drat!” he thought, rising from his chair to pace the room. This was not how he intended to proceed but, now the moment was upon him, he was suddenly at a loss for words. Elizabeth watched him with concern. He had seemed on the precipice of making the longed for offer of marriage but his current behavior, restless and agitated, did not seem to portend a declaration of love. She braced herself against the rising surge of disappointment and was thereby taken off guard by the simple speech that followed.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began again, finally standing still and gazing at her with an intense look, “forgive my fumbling manner. Typically I am a methodical man but I find to my dismay that method has no place here. I believe you are the woman who would most suit me in life. Will you please do me the very great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”
The proposal was thus plainly stated. Darcy could not employ the flourishes usually deemed appropriate on such an occasion, but his eyes expressed emotions that no words could ever do justice to. Elizabeth heard in that gaze the most passionate declaration of love and returned it with a warm, comforting, and brilliant smile that clearly conveyed her response. He would never forget the intonation of the nine words she spoke – for the remainder of his life he could clearly recall them and the surge of nourishment they provided his heart, so long neglected: “Of course Mr. Darcy. The honor is all mine.”
--
“Excuse me, sir. May I have word?”
Darcy was so excited he could barely modulate his voice. Mr. Bennet had to scold a smile from appearing, “Mr. Darcy, of course. Do sit down.”
He sat in the same seat he occupied during his last interview with Mr. Bennet, who correctly imagined this man he was about to welcome into the family as the type who would always sit i
n the same place and indeed, over the years, the leather chair came to be regarded as Mr. Darcy’s own whenever he visited Longbourn.
“You can have little doubt what it is I wish to discuss with you, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy commenced.
“Indeed?” was the reply, made with a raised brow and a familiar twinkle of the eye.
Mr. Darcy had been well schooled as of late in how to parry with a Bennet. He knew this man was toying with him and spontaneously decided, driven on by his high spirits, to enact a bit of playful revenge. “Yes sir. You are well aware of my attachment to your daughter. She has, this morning, accepted my offer of marriage. I ask, Mr. Bennet, for you to favor our union with your blessing. I promise I will strive to make Miss Kitty the happiest of women.”
Mr. Bennet, who had maintained a rather self-satisfied air though the majority of this declaration, turned rather red at its conclusion. His first impulse was to dive across the desk and attempt to throttle the younger (and taller) man who sat across from him, but upon noticing the broad smile on Mr. Darcy’s face, he realized the joke was on him. Chuckling, he shook his head, “Pray, what would you do sir, should I hold you to that offer? Life at the mercy of my most fanciful of daughters would be appropriate punishment for the shock you just gave me. I presume you meant to offer for my Lizzy and that it is she who accepted your proposal today?”
“You are correct, Mr. Bennet.”
“Very good. Of course you have my blessing. You really needn’t have bothered with this quaint ritual of asking my permission when well you know Mrs. Bennet would make my life miserable should I say no.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said sincerely. Mr. Bennet rose to shake his preferred hand. “This is the greatest honor of my life.”
“You deserve her son. Off with you to Elizabeth now.” Mr. Bennet was left alone in his library to privately mourn the loss of his most precious child, finding great consolation in the acquisition of such a son-in-law.
--
“Oh, Mr. Bennet! Our Lizzy, mistress of Pemberley! Just think of it! Mr. Darcy is undoubtedly the most handsome man imaginable. Did you witness him kiss my hand so gallantly? I haven’t blushed so fiercely since I was a girl! I must go into Meryton at once and tell my sister Phillips! Call for the carriage, Mr. Bennet. I must have the horses!”
“Slow down Mrs. Bennet so that we may understand one another. What is all this about Lizzy? Mr. Darcy never spoke of Lizzy.”
“Never spoke to you ... Mr. Bennet, do be serious.”
“I am perfectly serious. Mr. Darcy did come and speak with me today but regarding Catherine, not Elizabeth.”
“What on Earth has this to do with Kitty?”
“Why, Mr. Darcy intends to marry her of course.”
“Marry Kitty! You are just trying to vex me, Mr. Bennet.”
“Perhaps, but it was certainly Kitty of whom Mr. Darcy spoke.”
“Kitty? Kitty?! KITTY!” Mrs. Bennet screeched as she hurried out the door. Mr. Bennet intercepted her just in time to prevent her from wrecking havoc throughout the household with her faulty information. He confessed his deception to his chagrined wife, but she made only quick mention of her fragile nerves before recovering her happy exclamations over Lizzy’s good fortune. That her daughter should make the finest match of anyone in her acquaintance! Mr. Bennet recognized the cruelty of playing such a trick on his wife but, as there was no harm done, he felt he deserved his share in the joke. He chuckled contentedly to himself as his wife bustled back out of the room, eager to attend to the happy couple.
--
At this juncture, reader dear, I fear I’m in a bit of a quandary regarding what to share with you. I could regale you with a detailed account of the first kiss that was, presumably, shared at some point between our hero and heroine during the course of their courtship, but to do so, as I’m sure you’ll agree, would be an unforgivable intrusion on their privacy. Alternatively, I could provide a day to day account of events as they transpired at Longbourn – detailing all the many wedding preparations, the attending squabbles over yards of lace, and the arrangements that Lydia and Kitty enthusiastically made for their upcoming departure to a very respectable educational facility in Bath – but these occurrences are too mundane to require elaboration. So instead I’ll just assure you that everything proceeded with as much calm as can be expected, in a household such as Longbourn, between this time and the arrival of the Gardiners for their Christmas visit, but for two notable exceptions. For a proper rendering of the first, we must temporarily leave behind our friends in Hertfordshire and away to Kent.
Chapter 20
With conflicting emotions had Lady Catherine awaited the letter she finally received from her nephew, a full three days overdue by the great lady’s estimation. Its contents were as follows:
Netherfield Hall, Hertfordshire, 27 Nov.
My Dearest Aunt,
I am returned to Mr. Bingley’s home after an uneventful, if muddy, ride to London from Netherfield. Both Georgiana and I thoroughly enjoyed our visit. I can only apologize again for both its spontaneity and brevity but, as I am sure you are now fully aware thanks to the intelligence which Mr. Collins undoubtedly provided you, I had pressing matters to attend to here.
Forgive me, Aunt Catherine, for not being more forthcoming with you, but I am afraid I was not certain of either my heart or my course of action until lately. It was my conversations with you and Georgiana that revealed my true feelings on the matter. Your words particularly directed me, as they had the wisdom of experience. When you charged me to find a strong, capable wife, untainted by societal affectations, I had no doubt that you would approve of my choice.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet has all the ability and elegance one could ask for in a mistress of Pemberley. You are familiar with the circumstances of the family and, particularly, the Longbourn estate – it has been the seat of the Bennets for generations. You performed an act of immeasurable kindness when you directed Mr. Collins to seek a bride amongst his cousins. A tragedy has been thwarted and an old and noble estate will not be deprived of its rightful lineage. I can also assure you that you will find Mary Bennet to be a most advantageous match for Mr. Collins – I only refrained from doing so earlier so as not to deprive him of the joy of announcing his good fortune to you himself.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet has little personal portion but I find I am glad of it. Had it not been for needful and honorable economy she would surely have been far more exposed to the exact society against which you warned me, potentially having lost the sincerity and goodness that so mark her: values that form the backbone of England’s honored country gentry.
I must admit, dear Aunt, that I am not looking forward to calling Mr. Collins Brother. I am sure he is an admirable rector, but I find his obsequiousness quite overwhelming. Yet I have great hopes that Miss Mary will improve him immeasurably, especially with the benefit of your example and guidance.
Miss Elizabeth and I plan to marry at Pemberley in the new year, on Thursday, the 9th of January. I know this is a far from ideal time of year for travel northwards, but I hope you and Anne will be able to attend nonetheless. Please relay my best wishes to my dear cousin. May God bless you both.
Your loving nephew,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Lady Catherine was surprised, having commenced reading in high dudgeon, to feel as mollified as she did upon finishing the letter. Darcy and Georgiana had just pulled away from the church when Mr. Collins began lamenting that he had not had the opportunity to assure Mr. Darcy of one Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s good health before his departure. Mere minutes extracted the entire story from Mr. Collins, rendering Lady Catherine extremely indignant ever since. This long awaited missive was perused with great interest and attention.
Darcy and she agreed on one point: Lady Catherine did not relish the notion of a familial connection to Mr. Collins. She had selected him to serve as her rector, not her relative, and her requirements for those two distinct roles could not be more differe
nt. In just the few short days since his return to Hunsford, she believed she could detect in him an increased air of importance, which she thought thoroughly unbecoming, attributing it to his presumed relationship with her own nephew. Granted, she would have been equally annoyed if he had failed to ascribe the appropriate value to such a potential relation and the honor thus conveyed. Some solace she found in Darcy’s assurance that this Mary Bennet was a girl of some sense – she would perhaps prove a valuable companion to Anne – but the future Mrs. Darcy she could only regard with distrust.
