The Journey

by Hahn, Jan

  “What?” he asked, raising his head slightly from his bowl.

  “Say something!” she hissed.

  “Humph?” he grumbled and slapped his spoon down on the table. “Yes, right! Bring on the next course!”

  By that time a droll expression covered my father’s countenance. He cleared his throat and folded his hands together. “Well, Lizzy?” he said, raising his eyebrows as if to ask whether I agreed.

  When I nodded vigorously, no longer able to restrain the smile breaking forth upon my face, he said, “Then you leave me little choice. I see before me an unhappy task. For once, I must be in perfect agreement with your mother. Daughter, I insist that you marry Mr. Darcy.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said.

  “No!” Caroline cried, but her sister must have kicked her under the table, for she said no more, and a joyous uproar commenced throughout the entire room that drowned out her dissent.

  As each person rushed upon us and offered their best wishes, hugged me or kissed my cheek, and shook Mr. Darcy’s hand, I stole a glance upwards at his handsome face. It was bathed in smiles, his dimples winking in abundance. He beamed down upon me in return, full of the best kind of pride and tender regard.

  After much ado, we were led to the table and placed side by side. Fresh wine was poured, and numerous toasts were offered in our honour. At last we all applied ourselves to the remainder of the feast. Mr. Darcy and I skipped the soup, for Mr. Hurst had eaten our portions, and proceeded to the next course.

  We both ate with unusual appetite. For some reason, we suddenly found ourselves beset with ferocious hunger.

  After dinner the ladies and I heard a great deal of laughter filter down the hall from the library where the gentlemen enjoyed their brandy and cigars. Jane and I blushed at Mamá’s pointed remarks that talk of our upcoming marriages would most likely prove to be the topic of the men’s conversation.

  Mrs. Hurst, surprisingly, put on her most agreeable expression and actually played the part of gracious hostess quite well. She congratulated me and said she looked forward to a long association between our families now that the Hursts and Darcys would be almost related. She spoke of Pemberley’s charms with great enthusiasm, and I could see that she hoped to continue to be invited as a guest once I became mistress of the great estate.

  Even the impetus of continued invitations, however, did not provoke a similar response from her sister. Miss Bingley remained sullen and uncommunicative, tucked away in a corner chair with a glass of sherry that I noticed she refilled often enough.

  “Miss Bennet?” I heard a soft voice and turned to find Miss Darcy at my side. “I am very pleased that you have accepted my brother. I have never seen him so happy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope you shall be content leaving your sisters and joining yourself to such a small family.”

  “But I look forward to our acquaintance as sisters. Pray, call me Elizabeth.”

  She smiled shyly. “And you must say Georgiana when speaking to me.”

  “I shall, I shall,” I said with great enthusiasm.

  Not long afterwards, the gentlemen joined us. Mr. Darcy strode to my side, a gleam in his eye. Mrs. Hurst prevailed upon Georgiana to play the pianoforte. She did her utmost to avoid Mary’s attempts to gain her attention. I smiled across the room at Jane. If our sister did succeed in making her way to the instrument, I felt certain not even Mary’s pitiful performance could ruin the evening.

  At the end of the gathering, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley escorted Jane and me to our father’s carriage to join Mary and Kitty for the ride home. How thrilling it was to allow Mr. Darcy to kiss my hand before others who now acknowledged it as his right.

  “I shall call first thing tomorrow if that is acceptable,” he murmured.

  “Of course.” I smiled up at him.

  “Until then,” he whispered, turned my hand over and kissed my palm, which sent shivers of delight running up my spine.

  Did he know how that simple action caused me to grow weak? From the rakish look in his eye, I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. Two can play such games, I thought.

  Purposefully, I parted my lips and ever so slowly began to bite my lower lip. I watched with satisfaction the effect it had on him. How skilfully he struggled to repress his emotions, the only clues being his sudden intake of air and consequent heaving chest.

  “Good night, Fitzwilliam,” I whispered and climbed into the cab.

  * * *

  Our family’s return trip to Longbourn was once again postponed because of my engagement. Nothing would do but for us to stay until the next week so that Mamá could tote me to the warehouses to select silks and laces for my wedding gown and trousseau. She dared not leave such important decisions to me alone without her expert opinion. I protested that I still could not show my face in public without scorn, but Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy soon banished that excuse.

  With much forethought and planning on the part of Mr. Darcy and much active cajoling on the part of Mr. Bingley, my mother was persuaded to consent to a double wedding for Jane and me and much earlier than my sister’s previously planned ceremony. At first, Mamá had been adamant that she could not plan a wedding in less than three months’ time, but after extensive praise of her abilities by both men and the added extravagance of their promises to secure special licences, Mamá agreed to a wedding ceremony to be held in the middle of February. She could not disregard the distinction of two daughters marrying by special licence.

  As soon as my father approved the plans, which he was content to do, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley contacted the offices of the London Gazette and published our announcements forthwith. At last, I could read my uncle’s newspaper with alacrity and without misgiving.

  The day the notices were printed, Jane and I walked in the park with our intendeds, accompanied by Kitty and Georgiana. A light snow had fallen that morning, just enough to coat the barren landscape, causing it to appear fresh and new.

  My younger sister talked Georgiana into scraping enough snow together to fashion snowballs, and soon they began to pelt Mr. Bingley with them. He, in turn, retaliated in like manner while Jane stood by laughing.

  Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to take my hand and steal away from our companions. He hurried us into a copse of shrubs and evergreens so that we might be somewhat hidden from public view, ostensibly to protect me from the snow being thrown — or so he would have said if questioned. There he pulled me close in a tender embrace. He lowered his head until his cheek met mine and I could inhale that delicious scent of his that filled me with such delight.

  “How I have longed to hold you,” he murmured. “It seems we are never alone, Elizabeth. How can you keep your wits in a house containing so many?”

  I laughed lightly. “You forget that I have never known any other. I do feel sympathy for Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Their house has been filled to capacity far too long. Although they would never say it, I feel quite certain they will be relieved when we depart on the morrow.”

  “Shall you miss having such a big family around you after we marry and you have only Georgiana and me with whom to share a home?”

  “At the moment, sir, I would be content to share a home with only one other person.”

  He placed his forehead against mine, his arms entwined around my waist, holding me snugly against his warm body. “And just who might that one person be?”

  “Someone tall and handsome who thinks himself exceedingly clever.”

  “Clever?” He leaned his head back against the bark of the tree against which he stood. “In what way?”

  “Do not play the innocent, sir. I yet marvel at how shrewdly you succeeded in arranging our marriage without going back on your word and offering another proposal. I shall take it as a warning that, from this point on, I must heed your conversation with great care and acknowledge that you mean what you say without exception.”

  “A prudent decision,” he said, smiling slightly.


  “I suppose that is why your ability to invent tales surprised me so. On that terrible day when we were accosted by the highwaymen, I was astounded at how quickly you delved into the imaginary.”

  “Yes, I did rather hastily declare you my wife, did I not?”

  He took my hand and led me to a stone bench within the hidden enclosure of shrubs. “When I recall that day, I remember that I had not the slightest hesitation in doing so. The idea sprang to my mind immediately. It seemed no less natural than drawing breath. At times I wonder whether I did not already think of you as my wife, that uttering the statement only gave credence to the desire buried deep within my heart.”

  “I thought you said it only to protect me.”

  He nodded. “But I could have said you were my sister and afforded you the same measure of protection.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, “and perhaps not. As I recall, in another conversation you declared with great emphasis that no one would ever believe us brother and sister. In any event and for whatever reason, it is done.”

  He looked down at the ground, but not before I glimpsed regret in his expression. “In truth, I am the one who could never think of you as my sister. The idea was completely unnatural to me. If I had, I might have spared you the pain and the suffering you have endured here in Town.”

  He stood up and clenched his fists. “What a selfish being I truly am, Elizabeth! If I had called you my sister, you might never have experienced this last hellish month.”

  I rose and caught hold of his arm. “Do not torment yourself. If you had done things differently, I might have been abused by Sneyd or even . . . Morgan. You did the right thing. All has turned out well.”

  He inclined his face toward me. “And can you honestly say you do not harbour any ill feelings toward me in regards to the past?”

  I smiled. “The feelings I have are now so widely different from what they were then that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  “With me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, be repelled. I can yet see the anguish upon your beautiful face the night of the opera.”

  I raised my hand to his forehead to smooth away the frown. “Fitzwilliam dearest, you think far too much.”

  I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He caught my hand and kissed the exposed skin at my wrist between my glove and sleeve. Then reaching for me with his other arm, he gathered me close and bent to kiss my lips.

  Beginning slowly, he contented himself with soft, chaste kisses, until I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned against him. Within moments, his passion mounted, and with it, the fervour of his mouth upon mine. I felt that now familiar release of my will as his caresses easily forced me to surrender to him, caught up in the tide of emotion his slightest touch excited within me.

  How long we stood enmeshed I do not know. We emerged from our bliss, however, with a jolt — a cold, wet jolt! An icy snowball cooled the ardour of passion, when it landed upon our cheeks and within seconds slid down our necks!

  I screamed and he uttered an oath before we looked up to see our younger sisters race away, giggling with glee.

  “Kitty!” I cried.

  “Georgiana?” Mr. Darcy asked, wonder in his tone. “My timid, shy little Georgiana is a party to this evil?”

  “Oh dear, I fear her association with my family may lead her down the path to corruption.”

  We both began to laugh, and scooping up hands full of snow, we formed our own weapons and soon embarked on a mission of our own. Once again, Fitzwilliam surprised me, acting the child as much as Mr. Bingley or Kitty or I. The haughty, arrogant, proper Mr. Darcy still harboured a bit of the boy within.

  * * *

  The day arrived at last whereupon we were to leave London for Hertfordshire. Jane and I were thrilled at the news that both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy decided to travel with us. Mr. Bingley determined to remain in the country until the wedding took place and make Netherfield his permanent residence thereafter. We were less than thrilled to discover that Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Caroline Bingley were also to accompany us.

  Thus, it came about that we made the trip in three carriages. Mamá, Mary and Kitty rode in my father’s carriage so that Mamá might have a seat to herself for comfort, Papá and Jane joined Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst in Mr. Bingley’s carriage, and Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and I rode in his carriage.

  How strange that I was to make the return trip with the same three companions with whom I had embarked on that momentous journey. Several things were different about this excursion, however. For one, Mr. Darcy’s carriage was finer, larger, and more comfortable than that of Mr. Bingley. Still, two people seated together were forced to jostle against each other from time to time, occurrences Mr. Darcy and I endured with great tolerance, seeing that, on this trip, he and I sat together facing Mr. Bingley’s sisters.

  Miss Bingley had not yet reconciled herself to our forthcoming marriage. Oh, she knew well enough that it was to happen, but it was evident she still struggled to speak with civility in my presence, if she spoke at all. I bore up under that trial as best I could, but Mrs. Hurst seemed determined to cause the two of us to become friends. Once again, I wondered whether her concern stemmed from the goodness of her heart or whether she looked to her family’s future interests in retaining a connection with the owner of Pemberley.

  We had bid our farewells to my aunt and uncle early that morning. My aunt held me close and whispered, “Be happy, Lizzy,” in my ear.

  With earnest expressions of gratitude, I kissed both of them goodbye, and we all looked forward to our reunion at the wedding in little more than a fortnight.

  Before we drove out of view, being the final carriage in the caravan of three, and while I still waved to our relations, Mrs. Hurst undertook her campaign to strike up a friendship between Caroline and me.

  “Miss Bennet,” she began, “since we are all to be family very soon, shall you not call my sister and me by our Christian names? And in turn, might we have the pleasure of addressing you by yours?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Hurst,” I replied.

  “Then, Eliza, you must call me Louisa.”

  I murmured her name and wished I could instruct her not to shorten my name to Eliza, but I restrained myself and smiled.

  “You and Caroline must be about the same age,” she went on. “Now that we are all to be one family, you must explore your common interests. Were we not just speaking of this, Caroline?”

  Her sister gave her a look that indicated the opposite, but she did make the effort and nodded in confirmation.

  I pressed my lips together, wondering what Miss Bingley and I could possibly have in common and also what Mr. Darcy thought of this line of conversation. I chanced a glimpse at his countenance, but he stared out the window at the scenes of London passing by. I could see that it was left to me to supply possible suggestions.

  “We both enjoy music,” I began, “although Caroline is far more accomplished on the pianoforte than I.”

  She snorted and I saw Louisa nudge her with her elbow. “But you have such a lovely voice,” Mrs. Hurst said. “Does she not, Caroline?”

  “Yes,” her sister said, refusing to add to the compliment.

  I sighed and looked out the window. The conversation was insupportable. Caroline had not the slightest interest in being my friend, and we had nothing in common except that her brother was to marry my sister. Mrs. Hurst continued her endeavours to introduce various topics on which we might agree, but nothing would induce Caroline to put herself out to advance the exchange to any degree. I was relieved when Louisa, at last, gave up and resigned herself to riding in silence.

  I let out my breath and settled into the swaying hypnotic rhythm of the coach, allowing myself to lean against Mr. Darcy’s arm, our legs touching from time to time as well. He did not seem to mind. I
n truth, he appeared to take up much more room than necessary so that we might be forced to sit close together.

  Within a half-hour’s time, we had left Town, and I rejoiced to view the passing countryside. Even though winter was upon us, the landscape brown and barren, I still gloried in the open spaces uncluttered with crowded rows of houses and shops. I smiled to see flocks of sheep search about for sparse blades of grass in the meadows, and up above wisps of clouds strewn across the wide blue sky. Oh yes, at last I could breathe freely.

  “Is it not lovely, Fitzwilliam?” I asked softly.

  He smiled at me and nodded. “’Tis a peaceful, pastoral scene. Does it make your heart yearn for a long walk?”

  “Aye! I can hardly wait to return to the country lanes around Longbourn.”

  Caroline snorted again. “Oh, please, Eliza. Do not tell us you plan to continue tramping through the woods like a gypsy now that you are to be mistress of Pemberley. You must think of your new position in society, or at least consider Mr. Darcy’s reputation before you are seen running through the wilds.”

  I sensed the tension rising up in Mr. Darcy. Evidently, Mrs. Hurst could see it, as well, for she said quickly, “Caroline and I would be glad to advise you on these things, my dear. You can hardly be expected to know all the changes you must bring about before you move into that great estate. My sister and I have long moved in such exalted circles, and we would be more than happy to aid you in the necessary modifications.”

  I took a deep breath, willing myself not to react as I wished. “That is an exceedingly generous offer, Louisa.”

  “But unnecessary,” Mr. Darcy interjected. “I am more than satisfied with Elizabeth exactly as she is. I would not have the slightest alteration made in either her behaviour or her character. As for walks in the woods, I have come to possess a distinct fondness for them myself.”

  Caroline frowned, Louisa sniffed, and nothing more was said for several miles.

  I noticed that we had reached a wooded area by then, one in which Mr. Darcy appeared particularly interested. He leaned toward the window and surveyed the passing landscape as though in search of something. Within moments, he tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane, signalling the driver to stop.