Pride and Prescience: Or, a Truth Univesally Acknowledged

by Carrie Bebris

  She met Darcy’s smile. “I merely thought that someone so desirous of attention and someone so generous in extending it should be united in conversation.”

  “Somehow, I doubt Miss Bingley agrees.”

  “I can call him back, if you wish.”

  “Do not dare.”

  Spotting Charlotte Collins approaching the tea table, she contemplated how much luckier she was than her friend, in having found a life partner worthy of her respect. Charlotte had gone into her marriage fully sensible of her husband’s oddities, and managed Mr. Collins skillfully, but Elizabeth nevertheless preferred her own definition of happiness.

  Darcy followed her gaze. “I am glad your friend Mrs. Collins could be here. Have you had much opportunity to visit with her?”

  “Very little. I’ve been trying to devote a bit of time to each of our guests. As a consequence, I feel I’ve spent the morning talking ceaselessly but saying nothing.”

  “Then you shall fit right in with the haut ton.”

  She looked up at him, this man with whom she was now joined. “Everyone wants a few minutes with the bride,” she said quietly, “and all I want are a few minutes with you.”

  “Only a few? I had counted on a lifetime.”

  Her mischievous spirit returned. “Did you not realize? I took you on probation.”

  “And how have I acquitted myself thus far?” He regarded her with amusement.

  “Beyond every expectation. Not that there was ever much doubt of my keeping you, but a man willing for my sake alone to bear the conversation of Mr. Collins has no equal.”

  Their social obligations compelled them to part. Darcy went to the Gardiners, while Elizabeth met Mrs. Collins at the tea table. She embraced her friend, noting immediately her thickened waist.

  “Charlotte, I must tell you again how pleased I am that you managed to come.”

  “I would not have missed it. Had Lady Catherine withheld permission for Mr. Collins to attend, I would have urgently wished to visit my mother once more before my confinement, or developed a craving for cream that could be satisfied only by the Lucas Lodge dairy. My husband is so nervous about my ‘delicate state of health’ that he would not dare refuse me.”

  As Charlotte tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Elizabeth noted that a few strands of grey had emerged amid the auburn since she last saw her friend. “You are feeling well?”

  “Very, despite her ladyship’s insistence that I behave as an invalid—when I’m not attending to matters she deems more important, of course.”

  She poured tea for herself and Charlotte. “I wonder that Mr. Darcy’s aunt spared her clergyman leave to attend a wedding she herself has denounced.”

  “I suspect she approved our being present so that she could demand an account of all the sordid details upon our return.”

  “And what will you report?”

  “Let’s see . . .” She cocked her head, studying Elizabeth with keen blue eyes. “Mrs. Darcy looked radiant in a full dress of Brussels lace over white silk, with a low yet modest neckline, high waist, short sleeves, and a wreath of orange blossoms securing her veil.” Her gaze darted across the room. “Her bridegroom wore a dark blue dress coat, white waistcoat, highly starched cravat, and—” She turned back to Elizabeth. “Really, are gentlemen’s clothes half so interesting? What else? The wedding breakfast featured eight courses and three wines. And so on. But those are the particulars her ladyship will enquire about. What she won’t ask, but what I shall endeavor to reveal, is that her nephew appeared as happy as his new bride.”

  “Despite having ruined his great family with disgraceful connections?” Elizabeth mocked Lady Catherine’s contemptuous tone. “She will not be pleased at the knowledge.”

  “I am. I hoped for this event when you visited us last spring, you know. Perhaps in time her ladyship will come to accept you.”

  “I am told that if I grovel sufficiently, such felicity may be mine.”

  Charlotte stirred milk into her tea, her expression turning serious. “I shall surely miss your visits otherwise. You must write often, and tell me about your new life. Do you plan a honeymoon trip?”

  “Not immediately. Jane and Mr. Bingley have invited us to stay at Netherfield tonight. We’ll depart for Derbyshire with Mr. Darcy’s sister in the morning. With Christmas approaching, we want simply to get settled at Pemberley before the Gardiners join us three weeks hence. Perhaps we’ll go away in spring.”

  She lingered long with Charlotte, conscious that circumstances surrounding their respective marriages meant that this could be her last opportunity to see her friend for quite a while. Periodically, laughter and exclamations erupted from Miss Bingley’s party, drawing their gazes in that direction. Elizabeth had expected the assembly to disperse upon Mr. Collins’s arrival, but Mr. Parrish apparently had such a pleasing manner of address that he’d managed to rescue the conversation from the painful death it would have suffered under the clergyman’s enthusiastic participation. The American was currently sharing a tale from his homeland, his style quite animated.

  “Mr. Bingley’s sister has made a good match,” Charlotte noted. “It appears she’ll enjoy both fortune and affection in her marriage.”

  “Yes, though one suspects she would have accepted Mr. Parrish for his fortune alone. He certainly seems a better catch than her sister’s husband.” A quick scan for Mr. Hurst found him dozing on the room’s other sofa, an empty sherry glass balanced on his expansive abdomen.

  “Her fiancé is certainly a handsome man.” In that particular, Elizabeth agreed. Mr. Parrish was tall and slender, with sandy brown hair and an open countenance. “Do you know much about him?” Charlotte asked.

  “No more than what Miss Bingley put into general circulation today. She introduced him to me only as ‘Mr. Frederick Parrish of Louisiana.’ I confess to mounting curiosity, however. Shall we make ourselves better acquainted?”

  “By all means.”

  “Some believe,” Mr. Parrish was saying as they approached, “on nights of the new moon, the poor mademoiselle’s spirit yet haunts the Place d’Armes.”

  “Good Lord!” Elizabeth’s sister Kitty exclaimed. “I tremble just to hear it! Have you ever seen her apparition yourself?”

  “No, Miss Bennet. Nor any of New Orleans’s other famous ghosts.”

  “There are more? Oh, tell us of another!”

  Despite Elizabeth’s predisposition to think unfavorably of Miss Bingley’s betrothed, Mr. Parrish did seem a spellbinding storyteller. Even Mr. Bennet, though some distance away, appeared to attend Parrish’s words more closely than those of his own companion. But perhaps that was because her father was presently subject to the befuddled discourse of Mr. Edwards. The elderly vicar who had officiated this morning’s ceremony suffered from declining wits, a condition that had led to some fascinating sermons in recent years.

  Mr. Parrish rose upon sighting the two ladies. “Please, Mrs. Darcy, take my seat.”

  His address marked the first time someone had called her “Mrs. Darcy,” and she experienced a small rush at the sound of the words. Miss Bingley, however, did not look nearly so delighted by them—unless it had been Parrish’s offer of the place next to her that caused displeasure to enter her eyes. No matter. Elizabeth could think of many places, some of them in the barn, where she would rather sit than directly beside Miss Bingley.

  She returned his smile. “I would not separate a newly engaged couple for the world.” She instead sat down across from Parrish and Miss Bingley to better observe them together. Charlotte took a seat beside her husband.

  “Allow me to compliment you on a lovely wedding,” said Mr. Parrish. They were words she’d heard often enough today, yet his warm manner made Elizabeth believe he actually meant them.

  “Allow me to congratulate you on your forthcoming one. Have you fixed upon a date?”

  “Wednesday next, by special license,” Miss Bingley declared.

  Elizabeth suppressed growing irr
itation at Caroline’s timing. First she had announced her engagement today; now she planned to wed next week. Why must the woman schedule her own nuptials so soon after theirs? Merely to broadcast Mr. Parrish’s ability to pay the substantial fee required for the license?

  Ruefully, she thought of the idyllic plans she’d just described to Charlotte. She and Mr. Darcy could not with propriety escape attendance at Miss Bingley’s wedding simply to advance their own domestic felicity. Now, instead of retiring to Pemberley for the winter, they would scarcely reach it before having to return. “So soon?” she asked, entertaining an irrational hope that she had somehow misheard.

  Mr. Parrish regarded Miss Bingley with an ardent look, seeming to draw sustenance from the mere sight of her. “I’m afraid I cannot remain patient any longer than that. Caroline has utterly enchanted me.” He turned to Elizabeth. “The ceremony will take place in London. You and Mr. Darcy will attend, won’t you?”

  Not yet ready to commit irrevocably to altering their Pemberley plans, she hedged. “Provided the weather permits travel.”

  “A sensible response. Even well-traveled roads can be unpredictable this time of year—I discovered that when I arrived in London last December to my first taste of winter. It took me some time to grow accustomed to your English weather.”

  “I daresay it’s a good deal different than Louisiana. How do you get on now?”

  He grinned. “Under an umbrella, most days. That is, when I can see where I’m going through all the fog.”

  The fog—that explained Mr. Parrish’s attraction to Miss Bingley. He could not see what he was getting himself into.

  “A twelvemonth is a long time to be away from home,” Elizabeth said. “Do you miss the States?”

  “Not as much as I thought I would. When my father passed away, I wanted a change of scenery, so I came here in search of my mother’s relatives in Hampshire. Sadly, I found none living. But I fell in love with the country—and my dear Caroline.” He glanced at Miss Bingley once more, his countenance full of more admiration than Elizabeth had ever thought Caroline capable of earning. Miss Bingley, who had appeared vexed that any of Mr. Parrish’s attention had been focused on someone other than herself, now allowed a smile to once more cross her features.

  “And when will you return to Monts Joyeux?”

  “Mr. Parrish intends to sell his plantation,” Miss Bingley said quickly. “We’ll purchase an estate here in England. Until then, we’ll live in town. He’s leased a house in Upper Brook Street.”

  So obvious was Miss Bingley’s lack of interest in ever laying eyes on Mr. Parrish’s home, that Elizabeth wondered whether his decision to sell it had come before or after their courtship began. She had little time to ponder the question, however, as her Aunt Gardiner soon caught her gaze and discreetly beckoned. Elizabeth made her apologies and headed over to where her aunt and uncle yet stood with Mr. Darcy. His sister, Georgiana, had joined them.

  Her husband took her arm. “I have a proposal for you.”

  “Another one? You’ve only just made good on your last.”

  “Not for want of resolution, I assure you.”

  “Yes, I know—we could have wed weeks ago, had we but considered no one’s feelings save our own. Whatever were we thinking? Next time we shall have to do the business in a hasty manner, as seems to be the fashion, so as to trouble as many people as possible.”

  “Next time?”

  “My mother is in such a state of rapture over marrying off two of her daughters on the same day, that I have determined to make this an annual event. Though in alternating years, perhaps I should marry Bingley and you should wed Jane, just to keep the clergyman in a perpetual state of confusion.” Indeed, Mr. Edwards had tripped over everybody’s names so many times in the double ceremony that Elizabeth could not be certain that the four of them weren’t all married to each other.

  “And during the years I’m wed to Jane, will she assail my ears with such outrageousness as this?”

  “I venture not. Life with her will be orderly, peaceful, and predictable.”

  “Then I will have none of it.”

  She smiled up at him, happy that the light teasing which had marked their courtship had extended—at least so far—into their marriage. She didn’t know what she would do if her more straightlaced husband ever became impatient with the liveliness of her mind. “So tell me, what is this proposal of which you spoke?”

  He glanced at Georgiana and the Gardiners. “Would it disappoint you greatly to postpone our journey to Derbyshire?”

  The query came as little surprise. “Until after Miss Bingley’s wedding?” She sighed. Much as they longed to reach Pemberley, remaining in Hertfordshire was the more sensible course. “I’m sure Jane won’t mind us extending our stay at Netherfield.”

  “I have a different notion—I thought we could honeymoon in London while we wait. We can go to the theatre, perhaps some museums. You could meet more of my social acquaintance. If we leave within the hour, we can be at the townhouse by dinner.”

  “And you can have it to yourselves,” added Mrs. Gardiner. “Miss Darcy has consented to return to London with us as our guest.”

  Elizabeth turned to Georgiana in surprise. Since their father’s death, Darcy’s sister had made London her primary residence. “But the townhouse is your home.”

  The young woman laid a gentle hand on her arm. “A newlywed couple deserves some privacy. And our family has been just my brother and me for so long that I’m looking forward to getting to know yours better. I’ll accompany you to Pemberley after Miss Bingley’s wedding, or I can simply travel with the Gardiners. Please say yes, Elizabeth—will you refuse the very first request of your new sister?”

  “Of course not.” She felt a twinge of disappointment, as she’d been looking forward to settling into her new home with her new husband. The delay, however, would be of short duration, and Darcy had devised a pleasant way to pass the interim.

  She turned to him with an arch look. “But it’s going to cost you.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Surely you cannot expect your wife to stay a week in London without visiting a shop or two?”

  Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “Welcome to the life of a married man, Mr. Darcy. Beware, or she’ll make a Grand Tour of every draper and milliner in Oxford Street.”

  “Nay, I have trunks full of new wedding clothes.”

  “Where, then?” Darcy asked.

  She tilted her chin, her eyes delivering her husband a playful dare. “Can you not guess?”

  His gaze narrowed as he studied her. “Will this errand take us to Piccadilly?” he said finally.

  “It shall.”

  “Then it will indeed cost me dearly.” He gave her an approving smile before turning to Mr. Gardiner. “Did my wife wish to examine the latest muslins at Grafton House, the expense would be small, for she yet shies from spending my money on herself. Instead, she lures me to Hatchard’s bookshop, where I will be tempted to purchase more than she does.”

  “As I recall, Pemberley’s collection is already quite extensive,” said Mr. Gardiner. “But the library of a great house can never have too many books.”

  “Agreed. Particularly if there are any deficiencies that want correction to accommodate my new wife’s reading tastes.”

  “Fortunately, Elizabeth is hardly one to fill your shelves with nothing but gothic romances, as some young ladies would.”

  While Mr. Gardiner’s statement was true, she felt called upon to defend a genre that had provided her many hours’ enjoyment. “Though, Uncle, I do take pleasure in them, as in many other things, and will probably add a few to Pemberley’s shelves.”

  “You shall be happy to discover, then, that the library already holds quite a few novels, including gothics,” Georgiana said. “We own all of Mrs. Radcliffe’s books. My brother has even read Udolpho.”

  “A ‘horrid mystery’ in every sense of the phrase,” Darcy declared.

  “But divert
ing?” Elizabeth challenged.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “And if you want a trunkful of similar tales, I will happily indulge you.”

  “What think you, Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked, her gaze never leaving Darcy. “Will I always enjoy such generosity from your brother, or must I seize it while we’re still in early days?”

  He replied as if they stood alone. “All I have is ever yours.”

  At last, they took leave of their guests. As their carriage headed toward London, Elizabeth pondered the irony of Miss Bingley keeping her away from Pemberley just a little bit longer. But then Darcy took her hand in his and gave her a kiss that chased away all unpleasant thoughts.

  Let Miss Bingley bask in the glow of her own newfound love. Today Elizabeth could begrudge no one happiness.

  Next week, however—that would be another matter. When it came to warm feelings toward Caroline Bingley, even newlywed bliss had its limits.

  Two

  “A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”

  Mr. Darcy to Miss Bingley, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6

  In the privacy of their coach, Darcy enfolded Elizabeth in his arms. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head, noting that her soft brown hair still retained the fragrance of orange blossoms. He savored the moment, still amazed by the knowledge that she was his wife now. They had an infinite number of such moments ahead.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind going to London?” he asked.

  “Pemberley will still be there in a se’ennight. Besides, much as I adore your sister, I rather like the prospect of having you all to myself.”

  As much as he adored Georgiana, he rather liked that prospect. He tightened his embrace. “I hope you still feel that way when we arrive at an empty townhouse that has just been shut down for the winter. I sent word to the housekeeper that we’re coming, but the rider can’t be far ahead of us.”

  “Ah, the inconvenience of Miss Bingley’s hasty nuptials expands.”