by Iris Lim
Bingley swallowed, leaning back to face the darkness – rather than her. Tonight, they would have every right to complete their marriage. Surely, he could muster sufficient patience to await the seclusion of the bedroom. A moving carriage was hardly the most suitable for their first hour of union.
In the darkness, he felt Jane brush closer against his side. “It seems, sir – that my aunt paired us well.”
His smile lasted upon his face for the rest of their quick journey.
• • •
The room's many candles and colors did not frighten her as they had done the first evening – so distant that night now felt. Perched precariously on her chair beside Fitzwilliam, too tense to lean back properly, Elizabeth felt hope and joy, trepidation and thrill merging together in her heart. She was no blushing bride ignorant of what must be involved in their impending completion. Having a prolific matchmaker for an aunt had exposed her to notions most ladies her age would frown upon even considering. Aunt Gardiner's explicit instructions that fateful fortnight ago had also, of course, informed her thoroughly.
Yet, even then – she found herself completely unafraid.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered beside her as he grasped her hand in his. She lifted her eyes, the longing in her heart filling her lungs and its peripherals. She smiled and squeezed his fingers. “Your aunt has done well.”
Her groom was not one to express his feelings freely, Elizabeth had observed in recent days. His simple statement, therefore, carried deep, ardent weight.
Her smile grew broader – more wistful.
“Fitzwilliam, I – “ Her own voice hitched uncharacteristically. Eloquence escaped her as she lost herself in his eyes. Mere steps away, Jane and her groom seemed caught in a similarly fervent visual embrace.
Elizabeth could not confirm for certain. She was entirely too preoccupied otherwise.
“My apologies! My deepest, sincerest pleas for your forgiveness!” Aunt Gardiner dashed into the room, waving her arms frantically. She had abandoned her serene exterior – given in to near hysteria. She bolted first towards Jane to pull the elder Bennet into the center of the room. Her hands gripped her niece's elbows like a vice. “Jane, oh Jane – please, forgive me.”
Elizabeth watched wide-eyed as her aunt left Jane to come towards her.
“Elizabeth!”
The niece stood obediently. Fitzwilliam's fingers sadly slipped off hers.
“Elizabeth, oh my – oh dear!” Aunt Gardiner grabbed her shoulders – and pulled her beside Jane. Elizabeth watched their aunt's motions in a daze of pure astonishment.
Was this also part of their first meeting?
“Gentlemen, please – you as well.” Aunt Gardiner nearly tripped on her skirt when she reached for Mr. Bingley. She tugged the young man off his seat quickly and then maneuvered him towards where the ladies stood.
To Elizabeth's further surprise, Aunt Gardiner hustled Mr. Bingley around Jane – and placed him next to her.
The budding realization that something was direly, horrifically wrong began to weave itself around her waist like a treacherous snake. Elizabeth gasped for air.
“Mr. Darcy!” The tall man was already standing when Aunt Gardiner approached him. She deposited him, perhaps to everyone's lessened surprise, beside Jane. Elizabeth struggled not to look his way.
Then a panting Aunt Gardiner, eyes wild and hands shaking, stood back until she could glance at the four young people – all standing neatly in a row.
“Thank you – for your cooperation,” Aunt Gardiner muttered between pants. She frowned more harshly than Elizabeth had ever seen her do. “It seems that there has been a most appalling mistake – and I have none to blame but myself.”
Elizabeth exerted great effort in compelling her breathing to remain inaudible.
“I had not realized the mistake until today – seeing you all congregated in the room,” Aunt continued, barely coherent. She blinked rapidly – a hopeless contrast to Elizabeth's own still-shocked eyes. “The requests had been clear, of course, and I have none to blame but myself for confusing them.”
The words brought little clarity. Elizabeth struggled to remain upright. She felt all three other individuals stiffening around her as well.
“You see, the papers had clearly stated whom to pair with the elder – and the other with the younger. The similar last names may have confused any matchmaker; but I – as the aunt – have no defense to offer.” Aunt Gardiner's voice grew calmer, while Elizabeth's nerves grew tighter with every passing revelation.
“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Jane, Elizabeth –” Aunt Gardiner's eyes grew pleading. “Pray, tell, inform me that I have not caused the irreparable. Your marriages, they – they have not been completed – have they?”
The weight of the question added itself to the force of her fears – and her lungs constricted, suffered, collapsed under the brunt pain wound so tightly around them. Elizabeth could not breathe, could not see.
A mistake, a confusion – was Aunt Gardiner truly saying that she –
“I have caused this mismatch, I am afraid,” the older lady stated plainly. Elizabeth's world caved in and broke into a thousand pieces. “If you would permit, good sirs, that I restore your brides to their rightful grooms – I hope the matter can be forgiven. That possibility, again, of course, is reliant upon the fact that the unions have not been completed, that you have not chosen to –”
“No,” Mr. Darcy spoke first. Elizabeth wondered if his curtness meant anger or relief. He was not her groom; he was never to be her groom. The sense of loss enveloped her, drowning her completely.
“Mr. Bingley, I hope –”
“No, ma’am,” the man beside Elizabeth shuffled as he spoke. The topic, while clearly known, was not one genteel people tossed about publicly. Elizabeth could almost slap her aunt for her dramatic nod.
“Very well, I am glad to hear it.” Aunt Gardiner did not sound glad, thought Elizabeth. “As it is the first meeting, I shall proceed as if the pairings were maintained instead. Each gentleman shall bring his proper bride home tonight – and you shall have until the two-month mark to confirm your vows. Six weeks, I hope, shall prove sufficient to develop feelings for the lovely person beside you.”
Elizabeth's eyes stung, her body shook. She could not imagine frail Jane doing any better. The words and tours and smiles and laughter – the beauteous mornings and gentle nights – everything she had come to know and love the last half month – were they truly all for naught?
Mr. Bingley's polite arm, offered stiffly to her, felt utterly repulsive.
“Miss Bennet.” Behind her, she heard Darcy doing the same action to Jane – offering his arm, his home, his love –
Elizabeth cursed the day she was born.
“Aunt Gardiner.” She turned to face her aunt, a small flame of hope still burning in her heart. “As the pairings have already undergone the first ordained fortnight, perhaps – perhaps it would be well to at least inquire – if the individuals involved prefer to – to maintain or to revoke. It is hardly fair to switch us merely to –”
“But you were switched from the start, Elizabeth,” Aunt Gardiner looked near tears herself. “The Constable – he cannot know that I have committed such a monumental mistake. He remains safely in the dark, and one can hardly ask for more.”
“But, Aunt Gardiner! You can't possibly –”
“No,” the lady spoke firmly. Elizabeth felt her hope flicker, wither, and die. “I shall not rebel against the system. Please – enjoy your evenings.”
Aunt Gardiner moved to usher herself out of the room. And Elizabeth knew her heart had been thoroughly, irrevocably broken.
• • •
“Mrs. Gardiner,” the voice of her beloved – so dear he had grown in the past fortnight – revived her fainting heart momentarily. If Elizabeth's suggestions as a niece had been declined, she could hope, at least, that Charles' request as a bachelor may be entertained.
“Sir, I have lit
tle time to discuss your concerns. There are other pairings to which I must attend.” Aunt Gardiner sounded angry today – flustered and short-tempered.
“Would it not be – too late?” Charles asked wisely, lowering his unclaimed arm. Jane waited with bated breath, hand still anchored to her side rather than on Mr. Darcy's arm. “To shelve any discussion until the confirmation – one cannot be certain –”
“We may need the opportunity to consider whether or not to maintain,” the man beside her said, both interrupting and concluding his friend's remarks. Jane wondered if Mr. Darcy had always sounded so harsh. How did Elizabeth manage these past weeks? The dark-haired man continued, face equally dark, “Mrs. Gardiner, all pairings are given the customary fortnight for observation. If we forward our – arrangements immediately past the first meeting, how are we to know that these pairings are what we all deem desirable?”
“Oh, what nonsense,” Aunt Gardiner replied. Jane watched, utterly surprised, at her level-headed aunt sounding so silly. “If you two gentlemen – and the ladies, of course – had been truly paired well to begin with, why then have no completions occurred? If you have already met your desired one, one can assume couples getting more, well, busy from the start.”
Their aunt's frank assessment cowered Jane, frightened her. Was Aunt Gardiner right?
She turned to look at Charles, his face partly obscured by a stubborn Elizabeth's. Her sister, Jane knew, did not look happy – but it was common for Elizabeth to appear so in the face of surprise. Charles, on the other hand, looked almost – resigned.
Dared she trust her own assessment of these faces?
“Now, off you go,” Aunt Gardiner gestured as she spoke, nearly pushing them all away. “I shall see you in less than two months' time. Pray, delight in your circumstance.”
Elizabeth's blatant groan displayed her dissatisfaction. Charles' frown mirrored her own. Jane did not even attempt to look at the other man.
Despite the collective mixture of grief, anger, surprise, and confusion that pervaded Jane’s heart – and perhaps the hearts of the others, Aunt Gardiner marched away. The footmen she had not noticed until now walked towards their group of four and proceeded to pair each couple off as they stood. Jane found her heart splitting, tearing – being pulled away from Charles' presence.
She looked back towards her groom – yes, her groom – as she was shuffled off towards the Darcy carriage. For the first time in her young and blithesome life, Jane felt pain, despair. She did not notice Elizabeth, as she always did. Instead, she noticed Charles, his eyes blank and still, as he handed his new bride into their carriage.
“Madam,” she saw Charles' lips whisper, as he assisted Elizabeth up the carriage steps. Jane did not notice when she herself was deposited inside the dark confines of another carriage as well. Then the doors closed, the footmen shouted for departure – and in the darkness of the night, shielded by the lack of light, Jane cried.
Chapter 4
The force with which his glass hit his desk came close to breaking both. Darcy hovered indignantly over his papers. The brandy ran deep in his veins – but, still, refused to chase away the darkness.
Darcy swallowed.
Who was Mrs. Gardiner – and what right did she have to ruin his life so thoroughly? She had refused all suggestions, turned a deaf ear to his beseeching eyes. The woman was venomous – evil and selfish. Her self-preservation conquered all good sense.
How else could she give him what he wanted, loved – only to take it so abruptly and cruelly away?
Darcy closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking. He had nearly refused to attend church yesterday. Why voluntarily expose himself to the horror of seeing Elizabeth on Bingley's arm? Why escort a bride whom he completely did not fancy and parade her as if she were his treasured possession?
When the Constable had sent his men to gather Elizabeth's things the very first morning after the first meeting, Darcy had almost thrown them out himself.
“Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana's voice – the only female voice he could stand today – called gently from the door.
Darcy was sure he looked haggard. His throat hurt as he spoke, “Yes?”
“May I – stay here?”
Darcy pulled back to stand – but only succeeded in staggering back against his chair. His left hand supported him slightly against the wooden planks. “Are you – who are – Georgiana?”
His sister seemed to understand him. Her nod, at least, communicated almost as much sadness as he felt.
“She – Miss Bennet – does not accompany you?” Darcy asked sourly before lowering himself down to his seat once more. His emotional unrest, it seemed, had now seeped into the physical realm.
“She does,” Georgiana proffered quietly. She hung her head then.
“Georgiana –”
“I'm sorry.” His sister's voice betrayed her hidden tears. “I – I know I ought to love her. I just – she is so – quiet. She does not speak, or play.”
The playing, Darcy realized, did not only pertain to musical instruments.
His heart heavier than an unbroken anchor, he could barely speak coherently. “You – you prefer someone – livelier.”
Georgiana was too good a child to agree – though her eyes stated her preferences plainly enough. Darcy could almost laugh at the absurdity. He had, in fact, for a few spare moments throughout the first fortnight, wondered if Elizabeth was fit to be Pemberley's mistress. She was lively to the point of ebullience, active to the point of masculinity. If one had been called upon to describe the perfect Mrs. Darcy – Elizabeth's vigor would hardly have come to mind.
Today, tonight, however – she was the only thing on his mind.
“I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana whispered. Darcy sorely wished he had the liberty to commiserate.
How had he ever survived Pemberley's hollow halls before Elizabeth had brightened them with her laughter and smile? This Miss Bennet – Jane, her sister – was proper and beautiful to a fault. Her curls never bounced, hands never waved. Her eyes never promised endless discoveries to uncover.
Darcy had barely looked at her after depositing her brusquely at the mistress's chamber the first night.
He could also not bring himself to regret his abominable manners.
“I will try,” Georgiana spoke timidly before him, displaying more courage than he actually did, “I owe Miss Bennet – Jane a chance to establish our friendship.”
Darcy almost scoffed at the realization that he himself intended never to entertain the thought. He could die heirless, for all he cared. Georgiana may have Pemberley.
“Elizabeth was – kind and wonderful,” Georgiana continued. She seldom spoke more than a few words at a time. “I can hope her – sister – should at least – be the same.”
Darcy closed his eyes and nodded, unwilling to tell her more.
How could he?
How could he tell his shaken young sister, barely a woman, that the system that had brought them Elizabeth had destroyed them with her removal? If he were to inform Georgiana of his truest thoughts, the girl might never wish to marry at all.
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam.” Georgiana's voice grew softer by the second. She turned to leave.
“Georgiana.”
She turned around, eyes expectant. If only he could tell her, share with her – how much he longed to march to Brigham Park this very instant and confiscate Bingley's bride. Why did he have to agree to the ludicrous notion that he – as the older man – should have been paired with the older woman? Love was hardly age-discriminate.
“No matter what happens,” he said instead, tone assuring, “you shall have me.”
The relief upon his sister's face made him wish he could fool himself too.
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam.” Georgiana smiled, at least.
Darcy smiled and nodded – until she left his study.
Then, haggard and bereft, he collapsed against his chair. The events of the first meeting had robbed him of his fa
ith in Mrs. Gardiner, in the system – in humanity itself. He would never be happy without Elizabeth.
But, at the end of the day, what good would these musings do?
• • •
“Ja –” Bingley bit his tongue before it could progress further. As if the mishap the morning after the first meeting had not been enough, his lips had continued to conspire against him until now. 'Elizabeth' and 'Jane' were hardly similar names. They did, however, represent vastly different people.
“Missing your true love again, brother of mine?” Caroline was particularly venomous today, all fanning and whining. The smirk she sent her new sister's way glowed of superiority and pride.
Bingley grumbled. Breakfast, it seems, had been once more rendered unappetizing.
“Miss Bennet,” he chose the name the two women shared instead. He smiled patiently across the table. “Would you care for tea?”
His frowning new bride watched him hesitantly, perhaps measuring his sincerity. Oh how he missed Jane's modesty and cheer! If he were to sit just right and view Elizabeth from the side, he could see a small shadow of Jane – perhaps the only physical similarity the sisters shared.
The indulgence was dangerous, but satisfying.
“I have enough,” muttered the new Mrs. Bingley. She resumed the attacking of her fork upon her food.
Bingley sighed. He had always been a man given to feeling deeply. It was why he and Darcy were friends at all! Whenever his heart soared at the sight of a fetching woman, it was Darcy's icy prudence that brought the balance to their actions. They had always been a team – governing estates, tending to sisters, and waiting for marriage ever since the conception of their friendship at Cambridge.
At this moment, however, that friendship felt distant and strained.
Bingley sighed and excused himself. The two women glared instantly at each other, not even sparing him the peace of mind. Bingley had always known his own sister to be of the more difficult sort – but Jane, dear Jane, had seemed to take Caroline in stride.
He couldn't quite say the same of Elizabeth.
