So pleased was his wife with this response that she stopped teasing and relaxed into the gentleness that she knew he loved. Darcy had never doubted his own feelings; Lizzie wanted him to have no doubt at all of hers. On such openheartedness was their marriage founded that concealment or archness was unthinkable.
The following day, plans were made to visit the shops on the other side of town, since the ladies wished to see the shoemakers and milliners. While breakfast was being cleared away, a carriage drew up, and, to the huge delight of their nieces, Mr and Mrs Gardiner were announced. The visitors, though unexpected, were warmly welcomed, especially by Mr Darcy. Elizabeth noted with great satisfaction the obvious pleasure with which he greeted them, and the sincerity of his welcome left no doubt in her mind of his regard and affection for them.
Mr Darcy’s instant response of open friendliness and respect for her aunt and uncle, when they first met at Pemberley last Summer, had been the turning point in her own appreciation of his character. Their relationship had grown slowly and with increasing confidence upon this foundation. It had grown in strength, and each time they had met with the Gardiners, whose estimation of Darcy was of the highest order, Elizabeth found her opinion endorsed by them. That Darcy, whose family had, by his own admission to her, encouraged an inordinate level of pride in class and status, could have developed such a strong relationship with Mr and Mrs Gardiner, was remarkable in itself. That his behaviour to them was not merely correct in every particular of courtesy and etiquette, but was genuine in the friendship and affection he showed them at every turn, was proof enough for her that her husband was a man of estimable qualities. That she could be so much in love with a man she had almost loathed a year ago was well nigh miraculous!
Elizabeth knew she could have married him in spite of his low opinion of the stupidity of her sister Lydia or the silliness of her mother, but never could she have formed an alliance with anyone who did not share her love and regard for her favourite aunt and uncle. Their mutual respect was now something she took completely for granted. It was an essential part of their love for each other.
It was agreed that the ladies would drive to the shops in Mr Gardiner’s carriage, while the gentlemen would stay behind to discuss matters of business. Soon, capes, shawls, and bonnets were fetched, and they set out determined that they would not be seduced into buying French fashions, which seemed to be in vogue! In the carriage together, Lizzie and Jane were keen to discover what business it was that their husbands were discussing. Mrs Gardiner was able to enlighten them, just a little. “I do not know the detail of it, my dears, but I believe your husbands have been clever enough to realise the great opportunities for trade with the new colonies and have expressed a wish to invest in your uncle’s business. I think a partnership has been suggested.”
“A partnership!” Both sisters were intrigued. They were well aware of the Bingleys’ links with trade—it was the source of their fortune—but Darcy?
Elizabeth felt sure he would tell her all about it, when there was more to tell. Having satisfied some of their curiosity, Mrs Gardiner protested she was far more interested to hear how her favourite nieces were enjoying being married. The girls had no difficulty convincing their aunt of their current state of bliss; she could see for herself. “And what about Christmas?” she asked, to which Lizzie replied, “That’s been settled—you are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas.”
And so they went out to the shops in excellent humour and spent an hour or more in the pleasantest way. Lizzie bought some new boots—her own were worn with travelling, she declared, and Mrs Gardiner insisted on buying her nieces two pairs of French gloves in the most modish colours of the season. Mrs Gardiner was delighted to find Jane and Lizzie so happy. She was young enough to understand the intoxicating effects of love and marriage on two lovely young women, recently wedded to two of the most eligible young men one could hope to meet.
When they returned to Grosvenor Street, they parted almost at once, since the Gardiners had to hurry back to await Mr Bennet, who was arriving by coach around midday. Driving back to Gracechurch Street, Mr Gardiner was as anxious as his wife had been to hear the news about his nieces. “And how are Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley, my dear? Such grand names!” he said in jest, almost mimicking his sister, Mrs Bennet.
Mrs Gardiner was delighted to tell him of their happiness, “I am so pleased, Edward, I could not be more so if they were my own daughters. Indeed, I should be well pleased if Caroline and Emily were half as fortunate as Jane and Lizzie.”
It was a verdict she was to repeat to her brother-in-law, Mr Bennet, over lunch, appreciating his keenness to hear news of his daughters. Her husband added, “And having spent quite some time with Mr Darcy recently, what with one thing and another, I can safely endorse those sentiments, Brother. There would not be two young men more deserving of your wonderful daughters than Mr Darcy and his excellent friend, Mr Bingley.”
Mr Bennet waited impatiently for the evening, when he would see his beloved Jane and Lizzie again. His memories of their wedding day were a blur of activity, smiles, and the unending chattering of his wife. He had missed his daughters terribly and longed to know they were happy. When the party from Grosvenor Street arrived, Mr Bennet noted that Jane and Lizzie looked extremely well.
The young Misses Gardiner—Caroline and Emily, given special permission to dine late with their cousins—admired the exquisite jewels, gifts from their husbands, and fine gowns they wore and begged Lizzie to tell them all about the wonderful places she had visited.
After dinner, there came the usual request for music. Lizzie obliged with a song and invited Caroline and Emily to join her in a pretty ballad, which they had all learned last Summer. It was a great success, and an encore was immediately demanded. Fitzwilliam, who had a fine tenor voice, was pressed into service next; he delighted everyone by singing a pretty little duet with young Miss Caroline Gardiner, whose sweet, clear voice harmonised perfectly with his. Mr and Mrs Gardiner looked so proud that Jane, sitting with her aunt, thought she would surely weep with joy, but she merely gripped her niece’s hand very tightly and applauded enthusiastically when it was over. Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed deeply and kissed Miss Gardiner’s little hand in a very gallant gesture, at which Bingley jumped to his feet and applauded again.
Mr Bennet did not need to ask if his daughters were happy. He could see, from the glow on Jane’s face and the sparkle in Lizzie’s eyes, that they had no regrets about the men they had chosen to wed. Watching his sons-in-law as they stood engaged in animated discussion, he turned to Lizzie, who had just brought him his coffee, “I have to say, Lizzie, that Mr Darcy appears to be much more cheerful and relaxed. Marriage has done him a deal of good, and it must be all your own good work, eh?” “Whatever do you mean, Papa?” asked Lizzie, pretending to be quite unable to understand his drift.
“Why, Lizzie, I have never seen Mr Darcy smile so much and look so pleased. I do believe I even heard him tell a joke—or perhaps that was Bingley?”
“Well, I did assure you he was perfectly amiable, did I not?”
“You did, my dear . . .” he began, but at that moment, Mr Darcy approached, and Lizzie went to him, leaving her father smiling, quite certain his daughter’s happiness was not in question. Was it Chance or Destiny, or was Mrs Bennet right after all? Poor Mr Bennet would never know the answer. Later, when the guests were gone, and he sat with his brother-in-law before a dying fire in the drawing room, he returned to the topic.
“They are fortunate to have married two such fine young men—but then, Jane and Lizzie deserve the best,” he observed. Mr Gardiner was quick to agree, adding that while Mr Bingley was a most charming and amiable young fellow, it was Lizzie’s Mr Darcy, whose nobility of character, generosity, and devotion to his wife had endeared him to them, who was their favourite.
“Mrs Gardiner and I are agreed that, had your Lizzie been our daughter, there is no other man above Mr Darcy to whom we would have preferred to entr
ust her happiness.” This was high praise, indeed, and Mr Bennet was content. He could return to Longbourn and face Mrs Bennet’s unending chatter about all the servants, carriages, and fine clothes they would have, knowing that both his daughters were cherished and happy.
The following day, as Mr Bennet waited for his coach, Darcy called very early in the morning. He’d come to invite his father-in-law to spend a few weeks with them at Pemberley, in January, since sadly he was unable to join the family at Christmas, due to Mrs Bennet’s state of health. “If you would advise me, Sir, of dates and times, I shall send my carriage to meet the coach at Lambton,” said Darcy, adding that they were all looking forward to his first visit to Pemberley. His graciousness, generosity, and good humour completely won over Mr Bennet, in whose estimation Mr Darcy had been rising very rapidly. He accepted the invitation gladly adding that he was looking forward very much to using the excellent library of which he had heard so much. Darcy looked very pleased, and they parted, each man having increased his respect for the other, both looking forward to their next meeting.
Darcy returned to Grosvenor Street and found Lizzie in their bedroom, looking out on the deserted street below. She had risen late and assumed he had gone out riding with Bingley. When he told her of his visit to her father, she turned to him in tears, “My dear husband, I told him you were a good and amiable man, but I did not say you were perfect!” at which he coloured deeply and fumbled for words, saying it was of no consequence . . . simply a part of his love for her. Elizabeth was in a teasing mood, “You should have let me see, rather earlier in our acquaintance, how kind and generous you really are; it might have saved us both a great deal of heartache,” she complained.
Darcy, touched by the warmth of her love so sweetly expressed, was serious as he held her close. “How could I, Lizzie? How could I lay claim to qualities and values I barely recognised, until you, my dearest, made me acknowledge my own inadequacy.” She tried to hush him then, unwilling to rake up the memories of her reproof and his agonising over it, but Darcy was determined to acknowledge it. “No, my dear Lizzie, it is all your doing. If I have done some good things, if I have been less selfish and arrogant, it is because of you, because I loved you and sought your love in return.” His voice was very low with the unaccustomed weight of emotion, and Lizzie, knowing the strength of his feelings, let him speak, responding only with a loving kiss.
Later, Georgiana came over and stayed to lunch. They made plans; Georgiana and her companion would travel to Pemberley on Tuesday, with instructions for Mrs Reynolds to prepare for the arrival of Mr and Mrs Darcy with the Bingleys, a week later. They would be staying on in town only until Fitzwilliam sailed. Mrs Reynolds was also to arrange for the accommodation of the other guests at Christmas; Lizzie noted that the list did not include the Hursts or Caroline Bingley. Jane had already reassured her that the Bingley sisters and boring Mr Hurst were invited to Rosings, by Lady Catherine de Bourgh! “Ah well,” Lizzie remarked, “They’re sure to get on exceedingly well. No doubt much time will be spent expressing their indignation at my daring to defy Her Ladyship’s orders and marry her nephew!” The other guests were the Gardiners and their children, Kitty and Mary Bennet, and Dr Grantley, who would be arriving on Christmas Eve. Darcy explained that his sister always had her own party on Christmas Eve for the children of the Pemberley Estate. Jane thought it was a wonderful idea to have a party for the children of the estate, and Georgiana said that it had been her brother’s idea, when she, as a little girl, had been unhappy that the children of their tenants and servants had no party of their own at Christmas.
“He started it, and it was such a success, we’ve had it every year.” Lizzie thought how well it fitted with Mrs Reynolds’ picture of a caring Master, whose tenants and servants rewarded him with singular loyalty.
Looking across at Darcy, she felt proud to be his wife, proud of the innate decency and goodness that was now so clear to her. She felt ashamed of the prejudice that had been allowed to cloud her judgement, when they had met, but just as quickly she put aside her guilt, blaming Wickham for poisoning her mind with lies. She looked again at her husband; this time their eyes met, and they smiled.
The Bingleys intended to stay on at Netherfield Park only until Spring, when the lease ran out. Charles had already sought Darcy’s advice on purchasing a suitable estate, not far from Pemberley, unless as he said, “You want Jane and Lizzie to be forever pining for each other.” Darcy agreed that this would not do at all and promised to make inquiries about suitable properties in the area. The prospect made Jane and Lizzie very happy indeed. Elizabeth realised that Mr. Bingley seemed to thrive on the bright lights and social whirl of London and her sister Jane, to whom this was an exciting new world, appeared to match his enthusiasm. Darcy, on the other hand, loathed the social obligations and artificial rituals of the London Season, and Elizabeth had no taste for them either. They couldn’t wait to get away to Pemberley, but there were contracts to be signed and Fitzwilliam to be farewelled, so they remained in London, moving into Darcy’s townhouse at Portman Square.
They spent many hours in Galleries and Museums, attended a soirée and a chamber concert, and when they dined at home alone, indulged in that favourite pastime of loving couples—congratulating themselves on their excellent judgement in marrying each other!
The following Sunday, their last in London, with the Bingleys visiting friends in Windsor, Darcy and Lizzie took advantage of some rare Winter sunshine and drove down to Richmond. This beautiful spot on the Thames, which had become quite fashionable with the London set, afforded them the privacy they craved.
They talked of Jane and Bingley—for they had both noticed how Jane seemed much less diffident about showing her feelings. Recalling Jane’s concealment of her affection for Mr Bingley and the inordinate length of time taken by Charles to declare his love for her, Elizabeth rejoiced that they appeared so much in love, with so very little concern as to who knew it. Darcy said he thought they had both matured a good deal in the last year. Elizabeth agreed but wondered aloud whether everyone was as cautious in such situations; but, even as she spoke, before she could finish her sentence, she saw her husband’s wry smile, stopped, and started to laugh. “Oh dear!” she said, as Darcy smiled and shook his head, “Neither of us were particularly cautious, I’m afraid.”
They recalled that first occasion at Hunsford, when Darcy had declared himself in the strangest way, rushing headlong, throwing caution and sensibility to the winds, and Elizabeth had responded with a degree of sharpness of which she had never dreamed herself capable. She begged him not to remind her of the hurt and harm she had done, with her reproaches, but Darcy disagreed, claiming that her frankness and honesty had been just what he had needed to jolt him out of his smugness and complacency. “It forced me to look at myself to confront the fact that I had no right to claim the status of a gentleman unless I behaved like one to all those I met and mingled with. No, Lizzie, had you not spoken and taught me the lesson I had to learn, we might never have found out that we cared for each other.” Lizzie’s cheeks burned as he went on, “Look at us now, could we ever have been this happy if we had not been honest with one another?”
“You are probably right in that, dearest, but are we in danger of becoming a tiny bit smug and complacent ourselves?” She was teasing him, but he replied seriously, “Never Lizzie, whilst ever you set such high standards for us both.” Lizzie smiled. “I must agree we are very happy and comfortable together. I had feared we might be too reserved with each other, but it has not been so,” she said.
“That is because you, my love, with your open, honest manner, would defy anyone to be reserved,” he said, smiling as he added, “it was the quality I found most engaging and hardest to resist.”
This time, Elizabeth could not help but tease him. With her eyes sparkling, she quipped, “Especially when you were so determined to do just that!” Darcy would not permit her to continue, not even in jest, protesting that he had prove
d his love and would do so again, if necessary. At this point, Lizzie decided she would tease him no more; there was never any doubt at all of his love for her. “Could we go home?” she asked, softly, and sensing her changed mood, Darcy rose immediately and helped her into the carriage.
There was something very special between them. Theirs was no “unequal marriage” of the sort her father had warned against: a marriage in which one partner found it hard to respect the other, the kind of union that, they acknowledged without ever saying a word, existed between her parents. This type of marriage Lizzie had dreaded all her life. She and Jane had frequently vowed to remain unwed, rather than submit to that ultimate indignity. With Darcy, Elizabeth already knew she had a marriage after her own heart; she could unreservedly say that the love they shared was stronger for the esteem they had for each other.
They drove back into town, wrapped in a warm, affectionate silence, and went directly to Darcy’s townhouse in Portman Square. “We’re home,” he said, helping Lizzie out. They embraced as she alighted into his arms and went upstairs, leaving their coats and scarves in the hall.
That evening, they dined with Fitzwilliam and the Bingleys. He was sailing on the morrow for Ceylon and India, where he was to work with the East India Company for at least three years. He confessed to being suddenly sad to leave, knowing it would be a long time before he would see England and all his friends again. He had dined the previous evening with the Gardiners, and all these farewells were taking their toll upon his spirits.
Pemberley Chronicles Page 3
