“The next time I saw her was at Lucas Lodge and I observed her closely…”
“As many noticed, Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet interrupted.
Darcy nodded. “I was looking for some flaw to fix upon as a reason to stop my developing interest. Unfortunately, I found none. And she refused to dance with me that night. It undid me, although I would not acknowledge it at the time. I spent the rest of my visit to Netherfield falling more in love and trying to cajole myself out of it.”
Mr Bennet was utterly delighted. “My Lizzy laughed at you and refused to stand up with you. Such treatment bewitched you?”
“Thoroughly. The more I learnt of her, the more she suited me.”
“You are aware you are not marrying the most amiable of my daughters, Mr Darcy? Bingley has spoken for Jane.”
Darcy smiled. “As it happens, I have come to believe an amiable wife would bore me senseless. I wish to challenge and be challenged. My hope is your daughter will continue to improve me.”
“Continue?”
“Yes, Mr Bennet, continue. She has already made a proper gentleman of me in the year since we met.”
Both men were suddenly aware of murmurs and whisperings outside the library door. Ladies proceeding up a stairway and failing to preserve the secrecy of their actions was a familiar sound to Mr Bennet. Mr Darcy looked at him in enquiry.
Mr Bennet whispered, “That is the sound of Jane and Lizzy attempting to get their mother above stairs to her sitting room before she explodes in a glass-shattering display of hysteria, whether delighted or distressed. I have heard it many times.”
“If I may say, sir — poor Jane and Elizabeth.”
“Indeed.”
Darcy and Mr Bennet listened at the door. “Oh, Lizzy! Lizzy! I knew you could not be so clever for nothing!” Mrs Bennet’s eruption began. Her sitting room door slamming shut muffled — but did not mute — her further happy ravings.
Both men laughed. The upstairs door opened and closed again, and light steps were heard descending the stairs.
“That might be Lizzy returning to the parlour,” Mr Bennet whispered. “Perhaps you should go to her now. She will be nervous enough. Please send her to me. Try not to look too pleased with yourself. It will ruin your reputation — and mine.”
Mr Darcy bowed over a handshake with his future father-in-law and paused at the door. “Do not sport with her too much, please, sir. My aunt has made her a little anxious, I think.”
“Will your aunt be a problem for Lizzy and you?”
“No sir. She was, in her absurd way, most helpful.”
Mr Bennet raised an eyebrow, much as his second daughter often did. “I would hear more of that interview at some later time. It sounds like a fine story. Now get along with you…” Mr Bennet shooed Darcy from the room.
Elizabeth had indeed returned to the parlour, feeling a little flustered by her mother’s effusion of joy. Darcy entered nearly upon her heels. She looked at him expectantly. She had never felt so nervous, but she was radiant in her happiness. Darcy was no actor, however much he might have wished to appear disquieted for Mr Bennet’s sake. When faced with his bride-to-be looking completely beatific, he could do nothing except respond in kind. They stood smiling at each other.
“Please tell me you did not hear my mother when she regained her voice, sir.” Elizabeth blushed.
Darcy took her hand. “I know why you are so clever, Elizabeth, and it was not for nothing; it was for me.” He kissed her hand.
“And what of my father?”
“He has consented, but he is not sanguine, I fear. He would see you.”
“What? Now?” She looked up at him, the corner of her lower lip becoming stitched by her upper teeth. Elizabeth was not expecting this.
Darcy bent and kissed her, gently nibbling her lip free of her teeth as he had so often longed to do. Once their lips met, she seemed to return his ardency.
Darcy released her. “No, now. Now that I have kissed you.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “He did not tell you to kiss me.”
“That part was my idea. Now go to him.” Darcy stepped aside, and she left the room.
When Elizabeth was admitted into her father’s sanctuary, Mr Bennet glimpsed the lovely smile on his daughter’s face. Moved to return it, he turned abruptly away to gaze out the window. He stood up straighter than he had in years, marshalling all his skills as an actor and father of five daughters, which some will see as a redundancy of terms. He began pacing, attempting to work himself into a fit of pique. Finally, as Elizabeth’s eyes grew wider, he found the right tone.
“Are you out of your senses to be accepting this man, Lizzy?”
Her shock was immediate. “But he said you have given your consent!”
Darcy is no actor, poor soul, thought Mr Bennet. He will never be able to retaliate when she teases. “Indeed, I have. He is the sort of man one cannot deny. It would be unwise. But you should deny him if you do not love him. With Jane happily situated, you need not marry for money, Lizzy. I would not have you do it. He is a dour disagreeable man. Can you live with that?” Mr Bennet continued to pace rather than see Elizabeth’s distressed face.
“Father, I should not have spoken so forcefully against him from the first. There were reasons I rushed to misjudge him, which do me no credit.”
“You mean now that you know his side of the story, you see where your bread is buttered?”
“Father! You know me better than that, I think.”
“Then explain yourself, Lizzy. I will not have you marry a man you cannot love and respect. You would place yourself in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage.”
“Is this your objection? You think I do not love him?”
Her father met her gaze with narrowed eyes. “Yes.”
“But I do! I do love him. He has proved the quality of his character and the durability of his affection. I find myself deeply in love with him. It will be a surprise to some, of that I am sure. But I must tell you, Father, he is the best man I have ever known.”
Mr Bennet was all astonishment. He had not expected Elizabeth to take the bait so thoroughly. “Is this true?”
“He is kind, he is clever, and he has no improper pride. He is generosity itself. You do not know how generous.”
Mr Bennet looked at his daughter closely — there was something unexpressed in her manner. “Would you care to enlighten me?”
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “He would have you believe you owe a heavy debt to my Uncle Gardiner for the salvation of Lydia and our family name, but it was Mr Darcy who found Lydia and Wickham. He negotiated the settlement of the entire affair, including Wickham’s debts, before letting Uncle Gardiner know they were found. He waited until you were returning home so you and I would not know of it. He did not wish to have me or my family feel under obligation to him.”
Now it was Mr Bennet who expressed surprise at the turn of the conversation. “How did you learn of it?”
“Mr Darcy did not trust Wickham to go through with the wedding. He stood up as groomsman and only then presented Wickham with a statement to sign and his money. Lydia has an amount held in trust in her name, which will not be hers until she is 21. Mr Darcy purchased Wickham’s commission in the regulars. Lydia was told some of this, and she probably understood none of it. When she visited us, she could not hold her tongue; she would gloat, and as we well know, a vow of secrecy means nothing to her. Then I had to know more, so wrote to my aunt and to Miss Darcy.”
“Does he know you know?”
“Yes, I have thanked him on our behalf.”
“And his response?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured, but she said earnestly, “He said he did it for my sake. All of the vexing meetings with Wickham and Lydia, the expense of her wedding clothes, everything. He bore it all for me, because he would not have me believe myself dishonoured. And he will bear calling those two ‘brother and sister’ for love of me.” Her eyes filled with tears.
&nbs
p; Mr Bennet slowly shook his head in amazement. Elizabeth stood before him, drawn to her full height, chin lifted in defiance, tears dancing upon her lashes — she had never looked more magnificent. That Fitzwilliam Darcy, of all men, had inspired this display of fierce loyalty and affection in his beloved Lizzy was no laughing matter. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and kissed her forehead as he had done many times.
“I am proud of you both, Lizzy — you and Mr Darcy. I could not have parted with you to a lesser man.”
“You will like him very much, I think, when you get to know him.” Elizabeth hugged her father.
“I already do. I like still waters that run deep.” He is of sterner stuff than I suspected. Good man!
Arm-in-arm, father and daughter joined Darcy in the parlour, and Elizabeth revealed to them that she and Jane intended to be wed in a double ceremony. Darcy and Mr Bennet were delighted, each for their own separate reasons.
Lemon Geranium
“Unexpected meeting”
Chapter 14
Betrothed and Wed
Thursday, 5 November, 1812
The cares falling upon a newly betrothed, gently bred maiden as she prepares for her wedding are numerous and varied. Clothes and flowers, guests and their lodging, menus and decorations — of all these particulars were Elizabeth and Jane Bennet expected to have an informed opinion. The sisters were consulted about every nuance of their nuptials to the point of maddening exactitude and then often found, that although their wishes were duly solicited, their mother had already made many final decisions.
The letter from her brother announcing Darcy’s betrothal had cast Caroline Bingley into the depths of despair. She was not truly heartbroken — for that would presume she had a heart to break — merely thwarted and angry, but she did her best to convince herself she had been wronged. Her sister Louisa was more circumspect. She wrote Elizabeth a cordial letter of congratulations that the recipient suspected was at least partially sincere. When it became apparent Longbourn would be too small for the number of guests invited to the wedding breakfast, Bingley appealed to his elder sister and her husband to return from Scarborough that Louisa could act as hostess at Netherfield. The Hursts returned to Hertfordshire without Caroline, and it was still unknown whether Bingley’s younger sister would attend the wedding. Jane was pleased that Bingley was reconciled with at least one of his sisters and that Louisa arrived with the desire to behave in a manner most helpful.
* * *
Gentlemen approach their weddings with many fewer facets of the event to consider, and so they may be accused of pondering with greater concern the night and weeks immediately following the ceremony and celebration. Bingley repeatedly expressed his worries on the matter of the wedding night to Darcy, who could not be said to be any more tranquil on the subject than his friend, despite his somewhat more thorough education on the arts of conjugal commingling, seven years ago though it was. Neither had yet faced the responsibility for the deflowering of a specimen of the fairer sex, and each felt a growing sense of alarm in different ways.
Bingley knew his bride-to-be was all things calm and generous and was loath to believe he might do anything to perturb her typical aplomb. If he could discern a method of consummating their marriage in such a way that Jane would not notice it happening, he would be most relieved. That Jane might harbour a desire to express any physical affection towards him at such an intimate time was more than Bingley dared hope, although she seemed to like being kissed well enough.
Darcy, at rather the opposite end of that particular spectrum, was engrossed in the contemplation of awakening in Elizabeth the passion he was certain resided within her and, had he but known it, was the bedrock of his initial attraction. It was abundantly plain that his satisfaction in their conjugal relations was bound inextricably to hers. Could he enable her to reach that peak of sensation he had heard — and had overheard — a truly aroused woman could summit? His cousin Fitzwilliam was always a gentleman, but with that, a far more accomplished sampler of women — especially young widows. He had some years ago outlined for Darcy the instructions he followed for raising the ardour of a woman who was predisposed — through her nature or the skill of her lover — to enjoy the act of love as thoroughly as a man and much oftener once she got the knack of it. Fitzwilliam assured Darcy that a woman in the throes of love could be made to feel the ultimate joy without penetration, which Darcy recalled with some comfort. But at some point, the deed of relieving Elizabeth of her maidenhead would have to be done, and even Colonel Fitzwilliam, for all his campaigns in foreign lands, had never accepted the burden of taking a virgin.
Darcy could not even decide where to spend the wedding night. Bingley, out of friendship, had invited Elizabeth and Darcy to stay on at Netherfield, but Darcy could not imagine sitting across a breakfast table from anyone other than Elizabeth on his first morning as a married man, however much it might comfort her to have Jane near.
Darcy had the option of taking his bride to his London home, but Elizabeth had never been there, and he did not want to start their life together amid the society in town. Even though he had spent weeks and months dreaming of her joining him in his bed in the master’s chamber of Darcy House, and even though the carriage ride from Netherfield to London would take at most only a few hours, he could not countenance it. Darcy understood that, by the spring season when Elizabeth felt secure in her place as Mrs Darcy, wife, helpmate, and lover, she would be confident enough to endure the ton for a few weeks.
Darcy awoke at Netherfield some three weeks before the wedding realizing he wanted more than anything to take Elizabeth back to Pemberley. It was the only alternative that would allow him to feel all was as it should be. Pemberley was home. When there, he felt life presented him to best advantage. Elizabeth owned to everyone who asked that Pemberley was where she first comprehended the depth of Darcy’s regard for her and where she admitted to herself that she loved him. The very moment seemed to be captured in Mrs Gardiner’s painting of her, which now resided upon the mantle in his bedchamber at Netherfield.
But Pemberley was nearly 150 miles away. There would be at least two days of very determined travel between Netherfield and Derbyshire. The wedding was to be at ten o’clock, with no possibility of escaping the following breakfast festivities before noon at best. Darcy built up the pillows under his head and shoulders and continued his ruminations. Their first night together would be spent on the road, and although there were many suitable inns along the route, Darcy could not reconcile taking Elizabeth the first time in a strange bed. And if she bled, for he knew virgins often did, what would become of her maiden blood, the proof of their consummation? Would their bedding be displayed on the wall of some tawdry alehouse? There was nothing for it but to wait. They would make for Pemberley with all possible speed, riding in his lightest, quickest carriage with teams of fresh horses at the ready along their path. If they followed the most direct route with the best roads, it could just be done. He and Elizabeth would wait one night. Even if we roll into Pemberley in the middle of the second night, we will not spend two nights on the road. We will wait to consummate our love — and begin our married life — until we are home.
Can I do it? Can I wait, knowing she will be mine for the taking even as we travel? I must and I will. I will promise her we will be at home.
Darcy bounded from his bed and stepped to the washstand to sprinkle water on his face. He willed a morning erection to subside. Garrick heard his master’s tread and the water splash; it had been thus every morning since their return to Netherfield. Darcy dressed for riding.
Galloping across the countryside as the sun rose, Darcy made for the back boundary of Longbourn, hoping Elizabeth would emerge. Darcy smiled as he slowed to a cantor along the lane where he had proposed to Elizabeth, and where they so often walked with Bingley and Jane. It was a chilly morning, but the clouds were few, and Darcy knew Elizabeth needed the morning activity to dispel the vexation of wedding details. Althoug
h the many evening social gatherings meant Darcy and Elizabeth spent their time together, often by supper she was at her wits’ end. She regaled him with amusing tales of lace decisions made and changed, and her mother’s endless lists, but beneath her merry loquacity was a coiled tension he knew was distressing her sleep and shortening her temper. If she could take a brisk walk in the morning, her humour, at least for a time, would be refreshed.
The kitchen door of Longbourn opened, and Darcy was surprised to see Jane venture out with Elizabeth. They were talking animatedly, although their expressions were not happy. Darcy had to chuckle. Had the ceaseless hectoring at last discomposed both Elizabeth and Jane? He had seen his beloved marching along exorcising her demons many times. This was the first instance of Jane joining her, keeping up with her sister’s torrid pace and simultaneously ranting away; someone was being castigated mightily, by Jane as well as Elizabeth.
The ladies heard Darcy’s horse and looked up, startled, from their heated discourse. They stopped and curtsied as Darcy slipped from his mount. He tipped his hat with a brief bow and could not help dimpling as he said, “Good morning, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Do I interrupt important schemes?”
Elizabeth cast him a sceptical sidelong glance while Jane smiled tightly and blushed. Darcy laughed. “Miss Bennet, I have seen Miss Elizabeth out of temper many times and will continue my days enjoying the spectacle, but to see you out of humour is something I never expected to see. What can possibly be the cause?”
As if rehearsed, they responded in unison, “Aunt Phillips.”
“Oh, dear,” said Darcy, attempting to appear serious.
“Mr Darcy, I am pleased to see you at least are in fine fettle this morning.” So saying, Elizabeth at last produced a smile.
“I am indeed, my dearest. I think that, compared to you, my tasks are light and my decisions few as regards the wedding. But I have mastered one of the most important questions before me, and Miss Elizabeth, I would speak of it with you when we may have a private word.”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 26
