The Darcys and the Bingleys

by Marsha Altman

  No, Elizabeth decided she was being unfair to Lydia. She was sixteen, had every right to be silly (though no right to be scandalous), and had actually been in repose since Jane’s outburst. Lydia had not endeavoured to tell them any more secrets of intimacy, perhaps because they had both done their best to avoid being cornered by her. With all of the festivities, it was not overly difficult to do so. Then there was Mr. Darcy’s health, which had kept Elizabeth away at Netherfield for half of a very crucial day, even though he was obviously much recovered by the dinner.

  “I cannot think,” Mrs. Bennet fretted as she looked her daughter over, and Elizabeth decided not to make the obvious joke. “There must be something I have not told you—some advice I have not imparted—”

  “Mama, please—I have quite enough advice to last me a lifetime. Oh, Jane!”

  For Jane had entered, very carefully with the train that was following her. Elizabeth had no notion or care as to how she herself appeared to the world—her only concern was for Darcy, who seemed to love her even in the most misshapen of walking gowns—but Jane looked like an absolute angel, bathed in white, even without her veil on.

  “Oh, Jane, my dear Jane.” Apparently afraid to touch her gown, Mrs. Bennet ran to her oldest daughter and cupped her hands around her cheeks. “You are so beautiful. It is too much to part with you.”

  “Mama!” Jane said, worry on her face, mainly because it was obvious that Mrs. Bennet was beginning to cry. Though she had her fits, to see real tears of happiness was such a rare occasion that it was unsettling.

  “But I know it must be so,” Mrs. Bennet said, holding Jane’s hand and turning to Elizabeth. “We are giving you both away to the best men in England and that should at least comfort me, yes?”

  Elizabeth embraced her mother, but only after checking that there was nothing left in her dress to puncture them both.

  The silence was broken by the appearance of Mr. Bennet, poking his head up from the stairs. “I hate to interrupt all of this mysterious mourning on what is to be the happiest day of my favourite daughters’ lives, but there is some matter of business at the church, and I believe the vicar will look at me most unfavourably if we are late.”

  And with that, he disappeared back down the stairs, putting on his hat as he went. Mrs. Bennet removed herself from her daughters, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Of course, we must make haste. Your sisters are already downstairs, and the others have gone on ahead. Do you have all of your things? Wait, no matter. They can be sent for. We must not make your husbands wait!”

  Somehow, seeing her return to her normal state of worried impatience was relieving to them both. Mrs. Bennet followed her husband down the stairs, leaving the two sisters alone for what occurred to them would be the last time in months.

  “So.”

  “So.”

  And they both giggled at the gravity at which they had said it.

  “They are waiting for us, Lizzy.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “Perhaps I will concede to some natural trepidation.”

  “Well, then I will make the full concession. I did not eat anything this morning in fear that I would be ill. I will not deny that I am timid, but pray, this must be natural.”

  “I’m sure. Mr. Bingley has probably worn out the carpet at the church with his pacing.”

  Jane added, “And Mr. Darcy has focused so hard on suppressing all tension that he may well explode.”

  “Come then, let us get there before we get a stone husband and a bill from the church for a destroyed rug.”

  Their laughter seemed to carry them all the way down the stairs.

  ***

  “I say, my daughters seem to be in some sort of a competition,” Mr. Bennet said. “The first husband I must pay; the second I have no obligations to; and the third pays me. Mary, if this pattern is to continue, I will consent to you marrying a man of no less than twenty thousand pounds a year. And Kitty, nothing less than royalty will do. I perhaps will settle for Scottish royalty, but only if he truly loves you.”

  “Mr. Bennet!” was Mrs. Bennet’s natural reaction because she had an uncanny ability to fail to recognise when he was joking. In this area, everyone else was not lacking, and there was a good deal of giggling among the three sisters while the carriages were prepared. “You will never cease in your attempts to incite my nerves!”

  “At this point, it would be reprehensible of me to do so,” he said. “But here come the brides.”

  After much hemming and hawing on the part of the tearful servants, Jane and Elizabeth had finally made it out of Longbourn, at least as far as the carriages.

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet cried again and this time literally fell sideways into his arms. He did not impede this at all, putting an arm around her as she wept.

  “There, there, dear,” he said. “I fear you must keep your promise to me and allow me to ride with Jane and Lizzy in their carriage, because if you accompany them instead, they will arrive thoroughly soaked, and their husbands will toss them out on the doorstop.” But before she could put up some response to this, he kissed her on her forehead and beckoned his relatively shocked daughters into the carriage.

  In the first carriage went Jane, Elizabeth, and their father. Their mother and sisters followed in the remaining ones. “You must forgive your mother,” Mr. Bennet said without reservation. “Despite all of this talk of marriage, there was a time when it was very hard for either of us to imagine that we would have to give you up. I believe the period began with Jane’s birth and lasted until a few years before you all entered society.”

  So removed from it they were, neither sister could imagine being infants to a young Mrs. Bennet. “I imagine she was just as nervous for a whole different set of reasons,” Elizabeth ventured.

  “No, she was quite the composed mother. It was I who acted abominably.” Since he was facing them, it was impossible not to catch their shocked looks. “Very well, I was hoping to escape this, but it seems I must now tell a story from my own past which brings me much embarrassment, especially because it may well happen to your husbands. Jane, when you were born, I remember vividly sitting in my study with Mr. Gardiner, awaiting the announcement of a child. You may find me a reserved man now, but on that particular day, I was terrified of so many things that I was out of sorts. While Mr. Gardiner did his best to comfort me during your mother’s travails, you know that shouting carries very well through Longbourn’s walls.

  “Anyway, when I heard a baby crying, I decided I could wait no longer and left my refuge and raced up the stairs. The nurse, unprepared for this improper rampage, greeted me with you, Jane, in a bundle in her arms. I then did what any man completely ill prepared for the position of fatherhood would do: I fainted away completely—head right on the floor.”

  The light-hearted way he said it made it seem like a cheerful story, and they both giggled, which seemed to aid his telling. “But that, sadly, is not the end of the matter,” Mr. Bennet said. “While I was not injured, it took some time to rouse me, and Mrs. Bennet heard of it immediately and would not let me hold you for several weeks unless I was sitting down. So upon her second confinement, I had Mr. Gardiner standing right beside me when I was presented with you, Lizzy, even though I insisted that I would be all right. I was, of course, not all right, and this time around, he caught me. It was not until Mary was born that I finally took your mother’s good advice and received her sitting down.”

  “Papa, I cannot imagine it,” Elizabeth said at last.

  “Then find some time when your mother is cross at me, and I have no doubt that she will tell you the whole story in great detail—or Mr. Gardiner, if he is in a particularly gossipy mood. But it is the honest truth that women are far more prepared than men for parenthood, if I am any judge.” He sighed happily. “There, that is all the wisdom I have to impart: If you are to have children, do make sure the servants have your husbands sitting down.”


  ***

  While last minute arrangements were made in the church, the two grooms were sent for a moment of reflection with the vicar in his study. After instructing them on their marital duties in a very formal and churchly (and boring) way, he excused himself, leaving them to fret until they were called to take their places. Darcy immediately took a seat and poured himself some tea. “Do not inquire as to my health. I am tired of it. I merely want some tea, as I think it would be better than eating at this juncture.”

  “Yes,” Bingley said, and, after looking briefly at the small religious paintings on the walls of the study, began to pace.

  Darcy merely opened his hand, as if asking for a coin. “Your hat.”

  “What?”

  “I will not see you destroy it. Now give it over.”

  Bingley frowned indignantly, but he did hand Darcy his hat. “I am just nervous. My stomach feels like it is full of butterflies.”

  “If you wish to expel the contents of your stomach,” Darcy offered, “I can tell you what Mr. Hurst told me about your sister last night. That should do the trick.”

  “Louisa? What did—” And it struck him like a lightening bolt. “No! Do not even start! I do not wish to know!” He put his hands over his ears. “See? I am not listening to you any longer.”

  “You are so nervous you cannot take a joke. How odd,” Darcy said. “I would never repeat the contents of that vile conversation.”

  “And you are not nervous. How do you do it, Darcy? Tell me your secret.”

  “It is very simple. I am too terrified to be nervous. One emotion overrides the other.”

  “Well, I don’t see how—you, terrified?” Bingley stopped pacing for a moment. “Darcy of Pemberley, who pushed his new brother out of a window this morning?”

  “Not without an admirable second. And that’s the least of what I’ve done to him over the years. Or what he’s done to me.” Darcy took a sip of the tea that had been set out for him. “We are true siblings then, I suppose.”

  “You will not ignore my question.”

  Darcy hesitated before answering, as if he needed to chew on his words a bit first. “Bingley, I assume you are aware that I am marrying perhaps one of the cleverest, most headstrong, and most independent girls in England. That, coupled with the fact that I am completely surrendered to her means that I know very well I will be doing her bidding for the rest of my life with no complaints—is it not a daunting prospect?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You are a perfect match because you are as stubborn as she is.”

  Darcy merely grunted subtly in reply; he was either too uncomfortable with making his feelings so obvious or he was unwilling to admit conversational defeat. Bingley was not a fool; the inscrutable Darcy was deeply in love, and Elizabeth unwittingly had him wrapped around her finger. And Bingley doubted she would be so unwitting for long. Not that he did not feel the same way about Jane himself, but their countenances were different, if similarly matching. He could not imagine ever even raising an objection with Jane in the room, and yet Darcy and Elizabeth had been trading quiet insults since the first ball. That true affection had been born of this strife had surprised everyone.

  “Miss Elizabeth is one of the most agreeable ladies I have ever met,” Bingley said at last. “And I have no doubt that all of your worries are just nerves. Perhaps she has the same.”

  “And would you venture to suppose that Miss Bennet is thinking the same right now?”

  “No, I—,” but he couldn’t finish the sentence. What if Jane were having second thoughts? Oh, cruel Darcy! Bingley usually knew better than to get in a battle of wits with him. “Are you trying to make me nervous? Or, I suppose, more nervous?”

  “I must admit it did distract me from my own nerves for a moment,” Darcy said with a grin. “You will forgive me. If we must talk, let us talk of something more pleasant. Why don’t you pick a topic?”

  “Fine,” Bingley said, regaining his ground. Now he wanted the edge on Darcy. “So, by some happenstance, I had the pleasure of finally telling someone the ‘Fitzers’ story that you have had me keep secret for so long.”

  “Now you mean to terrify me! Who was it? Oh, of course, it must have been Jane.” He took a sip of his tea as if it were some kind of consoling spirit. “And she probably immediately told her sister. My reputation is ruined, depending on which one you told.”

  “There is more than one?”

  This gave Darcy pause. “There are a number of them, all involving me and Wickham, except for the one you were present for. So I assume it must have been the Cambridge incident, wholly unrelated to my new relation.” His eyes widened. “Good heavens, you didn’t tell her the part about my passing out?”

  “She found it quite amusing. Though perhaps this would be averted if you were not so secretive as to why you will allow no one to call you anything but Darcy.”

  “Perhaps. Well, Elizabeth can call me whatever she pleases,” Darcy admitted rather suddenly.

  “Provided it is not ‘Mr. Wickham!’”

  The smouldering rage on Darcy’s face was apparent. “Now you are just trying to torment me.”

  “Only because you were doing the same a few moments ago! And made me throw a guest out a window!” Bingley had more to say but was interrupted by Colonel Fitzwilliam entering the vicar’s study. He did not get a word out before Bingley pointed directly and rudely at Darcy and said, “He is trying to irritate me! On my wedding day!”

  The colonel did a double take, looking at the quivering, accusatory Bingley and the smug Darcy in his chair. “Perhaps leaving you two alone was not the best idea on this day.”

  “Perhaps,” Darcy said, attempting to return to his usual demeanour.

  “Well, the carriages have been spotted, so it is perhaps time for you to take your places, assuming there will be no wild escapes.”

  “Oh no,” Darcy said. “Enough people have gone out the window today. Lead on, Fitzwilliam.”

  Thankfully, his cousin did not ask for an explanation of that particular comment.

  ***

  By the time they arrived at the church, preparations were in their final stages, and the girls were ushered into a waiting room with their immediate family before they took their places.

  Mary, to their great surprise, provided her sisters with two silver crosses on chains. Where she must have picked them up and at what expense was a mystery. “You don’t have to wear them. Just keep them along with you.”

  “Of course,” Jane said, and kissed her sister.

  Kitty gave them both beautiful purple ribbons. “All the fashion in Paris, I heard,” she said, her usual giggling manner somewhat subdued.

  It was Lydia, though, who appeared before them and shamelessly said, “It was my gift to you both that I didn’t bring Wickham.”

  The humour in her voice was obvious; perhaps she was not the dunderhead they assumed her to be, and they both lovingly embraced her before she left the small room.

  “My dears, my dears,” their mother said nervously. “Oh, there is so much to say now and so little time to say it. Always be good to your husbands, and be careful never to irritate them with your fits.”

  “Wise advice,” said Mr. Bennet.

  “And if they ever do make some quiet comments at your expense, it will suit your marriage to pretend that you do not hear,” she replied. She gave Mr. Bennet no time for a response before kissing both her daughters on the cheek and leaving them alone with Mr. Bennet.

  “Having been outdone,” he said, “I fear I have nothing more to say.”

  Fortunately for him, the music started.

  ***

  “Three daughters married!” Mrs. Bennet said, but her exclamation was in a hushed tone as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley took their places.

  “I fear we must find another match as quickly as possible because my sister will need something new to say,” Mr. Gardiner whispered to his wife in Mr. Bennet’s absence.

  In response, she
swatted him playfully with her decorative fan. “I am so very glad we visited the grounds of Pemberley.”

  “Yes, the fishing was exquisite.”

  She smacked him again with a giggle. “You know what I mean.”

  “If only we could claim we were witting in our plans to bring Lizzy to Derbyshire, and then we would have even more right to drop in unannounced when the weather is particularly good and they have just stocked the lake.”

  “I think our niece will be a very gracious hostess.”

  “Maybe she will even have us,” Charlotte said to her husband, patting him on his forearm.

  “If Lady Catherine discovers we attended—”

  Anne, who was in the row behind him, stood up and coughed, “What is this about my mother?”

  “Miss de Bourgh!” A very flummoxed Mr. Collins found the church pews did not give him proper room to turn around and bow. “I . . . I had no idea—”

  “Shhh, darling,” Charlotte shushed him. “The music is starting.”

  Up at the altar, Darcy and Bingley turned to the aisle where their brides would be appearing momentarily. “Any last words?” Bingley whispered.

  “Chapter 15.”

  “What—Darcy! We’re in a church!”

  “I was of course discussing the book of Leviticus. I don’t know why your mind is so filthy these days, Bingley.”

  “That’s your fault!”

  “You asked for my advice, and you have it. Chapter 15.”

  Bingley swallowed, but then the doors to the church opened and all conversation ceased.

  ***

  The day Mr. Bennet gave away his two eldest and most beloved daughters was a beautiful December day. The sun was bright and shining when they left the church and returned to Netherfield for the wedding feast, which was more for the guests than the new couples, who were very eager to be off to Town. Darcy and Elizabeth were taking an evening before going north to Pemberley, and Bingley and Jane had decided that Netherfield was a bit too crowded for their tastes at this juncture and the Bingley townhouse in London would do just fine. The Darcys made their escape quicker than the Bingleys, as they were not the hosts, and the Bennets saw them off.