Rebellion at Longbourn

by Victoria Kincaid

  “Very well. I will speak to the rector.”

  “And the rest of your scheme?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “It proceeds apace,” he said. “If everything goes according to plan, Collins will decide to quit Longbourn soon after we are wed.”

  Elizabeth pressed a hand to her mouth. “If everything goes according to plan…”

  Darcy wished he could give her more reassurances, but he had none to offer. Reluctantly, he climbed over the fence again.

  They stood facing each other—only two feet apart, but the distance felt far greater.

  He reached out to stroke the side of her face. “I love you, Elizabeth, and cannot wait until you are my wife.”

  Her cheek leaned into his touch. “I cannot wait either. I love you, William.”

  Darcy memorized the besotted expression on her face so he might take out the image and treasure it throughout the long night that would follow. And then he turned to make the lonely trek back to Netherfield.

  Chapter Twenty

  Elizabeth had guarded many secrets during her lifetime, particularly in recent months. But of all the secrets she had kept, her wedding was the one she most longed to reveal. She was to be wed to a man she dearly loved—and wished she could tell every person she passed on the streets of Meryton.

  The rector, Mr. Thomas, had agreed to perform the ceremony in two days and had accepted the need for silence, seeing no reason for concern since Elizabeth was of age to marry. Discreetly, Elizabeth and Darcy proceeded to spread the word to select family and friends.

  Georgiana was able to visit Elizabeth—Collins’s opinion was not consulted—and had the opportunity to bear the wedding gown to Longbourn. Elizabeth modeled the gown—an exquisite silk confection—for Georgiana and her sisters behind closed doors. Elizabeth had never given much attention to fashion, but she recognized that William’s taste was exquisite. The gown fit her perfectly and heightened her eager anticipation for the wedding day.

  Charlotte, quite pleased that she had been the first to predict Mr. Darcy’s interest in Elizabeth, undertook—with Hill’s assistance—surreptitious preparations for a wedding breakfast. Mr. Bingley had offered to host it at Netherfield, but Charlotte asserted Elizabeth’s right to be celebrated in her family home. Elizabeth believed it was for the best; Netherfield’s spying scullery maid had been dismissed, but she could not trust the discretion of the other staff.

  Mrs. Greeves circulated the information among the tenants—whom Elizabeth had specifically invited. She could only pray that nobody would let the news slip to Collins. He could not prevent her from marrying William, but she saw no need to give him forewarning so that he might lay plans to disrupt her day.

  Elizabeth most regretted not sharing the news with her mother, who would be overcome with joy. But Mrs. Bennet was incapable of keeping a secret and would have longed for an extravagant event requiring months of planning. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy had any desire to wait.

  The morning of the wedding dawned fair. Elizabeth had slept little, rising early to dress and have Kitty arrange her hair. Jane and Mary helped her carefully don the elegant wedding gown. As she perused herself in the mirror, Elizabeth felt as if she had been transformed into a princess.

  Jane, who was to stand up with the bride, appeared nearly as jittery as Elizabeth. Her sisters, arrayed in their best day dresses, assembled at the head of the stairs. They descended the stairs together and entered the breakfast room en masse. Elizabeth was grateful for the show of solidarity. Although she was prepared for Collins’s inevitable ire, she was not looking forward to facing it.

  Upon their entrance, their mother was the first to notice something different. “My goodness, why are you girls so dressed up? And—Lizzy! What gown are you wearing? I have never seen it before in my life!”

  Kitty squealed with delight, unable to contain her excitement any longer. “Mama, you must go and put on your prettiest gown. You will want to appear to your best advantage at the wedding.”

  Their mother nearly spit out a mouthful of coffee. “What wedding?”

  “Lizzy is marrying Mr. Darcy today!”

  Such was Mrs. Bennet’s shock that she was struck dumb for nearly a full minute. By the time she was babbling excited questions, Kitty had steered her out of the breakfast room, and they were nearly in her bedchamber—where Polly would help her change into a finer gown.

  The rest of the sisters remained to face Collins. His face had grown a remarkable shade of red, but he had regarded them in silent shock for several minutes. He made several abortive attempts to speak and then reconsidered. He stood and then quickly sat down again, as if he did not quite know what to do with himself.

  Finally, he addressed his wife. “Mrs. Collins,” he said in a strangled voice, “did you know anything about—” Turning to his wife for the first time, he realized that Charlotte was wearing her best clothing as well. “You did not warn me? You knew what they planned and did nothing to prevent it?” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

  Charlotte serenely continued to butter her toast. “I do not believe it is our place to decide who Lizzy will wed.”

  “But…but schemes in my own house?” he stammered. “Lies and secrets…!”

  Ah, Cousin, if you only knew…

  “It is—It is scandalous!”

  Charlotte took a sip of coffee. “Your cousin is marrying one of the richest men in England. I fail to see what is scandalous about the match.”

  “But the purity of the Darcy blood! Lady Catherine has done so much to ensure that the family lines will not be polluted.” Collins twisted the handkerchief in his hands, obviously worrying that her ladyship would blame him for the marriage.

  “Sir, I have been accused of many things, but never before has someone viewed me as pollution.” Elizabeth managed a tone of amusement despite the insult.

  Leaping to his feet, Collins banged a fist on the table. “No! This will not happen. I will not allow it.”

  Elizabeth abandoned all pretense of civility. “You do not have the authority to prevent it. This wedding will occur, with or without your approbation.”

  Collins drew himself up. “Lady Catherine will not look kindly on the match!” he thundered.

  “This is a heavy burden indeed, but I can bear it.”

  Her cousin stalked around the table toward her. “Mr. Darcy is to marry Lady Anne!” His tone was so piercing that Elizabeth feared the loss of her hearing.

  “How odd, since neither William nor Anne wish it.”

  Collins stood only a foot away from her, but Elizabeth refused to yield ground. “I will not allow such a thing to happen under my roof!” he bellowed.

  “Of course not,” Elizabeth retorted. “It will happen in the church.” Jane stifled a laugh.

  His face grew redder. “I forbid it!”

  Elizabeth gave Mary a sidelong look. “Some men really do believe they control everything.” Her sister laughed.

  Charlotte stood quietly behind her husband. “My dear, I do not believe Lizzy’s marital plans are within your purview. You are not her keeper.”

  “But I am her closest male relative and her-her spiritual advisor—” He ignored Mary’s snort of laughter. “I have the right— I should be consulted—”

  “Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth said, “you are naught but my landlord, and as such, I do not believe you are entitled to a say in who I marry.”

  Collins’s eyes swept the room as he sought someone he could cow into submission, but he received no sympathetic looks in return.

  “If Lady Catherine were here—she would not permit this!” he bellowed, shaking his fist before storming out of the room.

  Jane collapsed into a chair as if she had been drained of all energy. Mary smirked, but Charlotte looked close to tears now that her moment of defying her husband had passed. Elizabeth was experiencing all their reactions at the same time.

  Kitty appeared in the doorway. “Mama is ready. We should leave for the church.
”

  William had sent his carriage to prevent Elizabeth from walking to the church in her lovely gown. The carriage would make two trips, enough to bring everyone from Longbourn—even Wilkes, Hill, and Polly.

  The groom was waiting, with Bingley standing beside him, as the carriage pulled up in front of the church. His face glowed as he helped Elizabeth alight. “You are beautiful, my darling.”

  “You have exquisite taste in gowns,” she said with a smile.

  “And even better taste in fiancées,” he murmured.

  He was, of course, a very handsome man, but his formal dark suit and immaculately arranged cravat lent him an even more dashing air. Elizabeth experienced a dizzying moment of unreality that this man would really tie his life to hers. But if his passion for me is half of what I feel for him, he cannot do otherwise. At moments like these, it was a mystery how her body could even contain the overflowing love she felt for him.

  William seemed unable to tear his eyes from her. He pulled her closer, lowered his head, and captured her lips in a quick kiss that promised greater passion to come.

  Several of the onlookers tittered, but one cleared his throat rather pointedly. When they turned to look, the owner of the throat proved to be Mr. Thomas, who had no sense of humor and an inflated sense of propriety. A confirmed bachelor, the man was tall and lean, with thinning gray hair barely covering the dome of his head.

  “Mr. Darcy, perhaps you should save that for…later?” The disdain in his tone would have been appropriate if he had found William stripping her naked in front of the church.

  “My apologies,” William said, sounding not a bit contrite. “Perhaps it is best if you marry us immediately before something untoward occurs.”

  Elizabeth giggled, but Mr. Thomas gave them a disapproving glare, spun on his heel, and marched into the church.

  “William, do not bait the man,” she admonished. “We do not want him to have an attack of apoplexy before the service.

  He chuckled and offered her his arm. They sobered as they entered the church side by side, prepared to greet their future.

  ***

  It was a simple service. Lingering until the guests were seated, Darcy and Elizabeth then proceeded up the aisle accompanied by the wheezing of the church’s organ.

  Given the hasty and secretive nature of the event, Darcy was astonished at the size of the congregation. Surely every tenant family at Longbourn was represented. He also recognized many townspeople—who had received invitations just that morning to ensure secrecy: Mr. and Mrs. Long, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, Sir William and Lady Lucas, and other neighboring gentry whose names he did not recall. He saw the milliner and the couple who ran the inn, as well as a few officers from a local garrison.

  At the front of the church, the Bennet family occupied two pews. Mrs. Bennet wept copious tears of joy—with Mary and Kitty flanking her, prepared to manage any unseemly outbursts. Darcy’s family was not as well represented on the other side of the aisle. His cousin Richard had not been able to join them, but Georgiana and Anne were grinning broadly. They had taken responsibility for decorating the church that morning, and it was festooned with ribbons and white flowers. Bingley, who was standing up for Darcy, stood on one side at the front of the church while Jane stood on the other.

  Darcy had anticipated anxiety on his wedding day; ordinarily he did not perform well to strangers. But in that moment—with Elizabeth’s arm as a warm weight on his—he only experienced an overwhelming sense of relief. After all the obstacles strewn in their path, they would finally be wed, and nobody could separate them ever again.

  They reached the end of the aisle and stood before the rector, who had managed to arrange his features into a rather frosty smile. The familiar words of the marriage service rolled over them, taking on new meaning. Darcy had heard them many times before but never when they would alter the course of his entire life.

  Only five minutes into the service, the door of the church was thrown open with a bang, casting a beam of bright sunshine into the dim interior. “Stop this farce at once!” Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s voice rang throughout the church.

  Elizabeth gasped while Darcy suppressed an oath. He had been too quick to presume they were safe from familial interference. Mr. Thomas stumbled to a halt as every eye turned toward the entrance.

  Pivoting slowly, Darcy discovered his aunt silhouetted in the doorway, with Collins huddled cravenly at her side. Darcy’s hands clenched into fists as he fought the temptation to ignore the interlopers and order the rector to continue with the service. But his aunt believed it was her prerogative to command everyone’s attention, and she would not hesitate to interrupt again.

  “Aunt Catherine,” he said, striving to sound calm. “You wish to register an objection?”

  “Yes!” Her tone could not have been more imperious. “You, Fitzwilliam, are promised in marriage to my daughter, Anne de Bourgh. Will you abandon your promise to her?”

  This accusation provoked murmurs throughout the church. Breaking a promise of marriage was an egregious social sin.

  Darcy sighed. “You know very well that Anne and I never agreed upon any engagement.”

  “That is not—” Aunt Catherine started.

  Darcy interrupted. “In addition, it would be impossible for me to wed Anne.”

  “Why is that?” She peered down her nose at him.

  “She is already married. Mr. Thomas wed her to Peter Landon yesterday in this very church.”

  The rector nodded eagerly in agreement; he had been quite pleased to officiate the wedding of such an august personage.

  Anne rose in the front pew while her new husband, seated behind her, did likewise. They joined hands and glared defiantly at Aunt Catherine. “It is true, Mother,” Anne said. “Peter and I are married.”

  Her face went ashen, and Darcy was immediately concerned about her health. “No!” she cried, her voice rising in pitch. “It is not possible—I will have it annulled! I will—”

  “It is already accomplished,” Darcy said, gentling his tone. “I know this is quite a shock, but it secures Anne’s happiness.”

  His aunt’s voice grew weaker. “You must cease at once. I order you to stop. You must—” Her mouth continued to open, but no sound emerged, as if her voice had passed into a register beyond human hearing. She gestured emphatically but seemed miraculously at a loss for words.

  “Mr. Collins,” Darcy said, “would you be so kind as to help my aunt outside and locate a place in the shade where she might rest?” Although he did not respond, Collins guided her ladyship toward the entrance, bearing most of her weight as they lurched out of the building.

  Darcy waited until the door had closed behind them and his eyes had readjusted to the dimness. Then he turned back to Mr. Thomas. “I pray you, resume the service.”

  ***

  The remainder of the service continued without interruption, and soon they were joined together as husband and wife. After all their tribulations, Elizabeth was relieved to have a bond to William that nobody could ever sunder. As they stepped through the church door into the sunshine, Elizabeth murmured to her new husband, “That did not go quite according to plan.”

  He smiled grimly. “I should have anticipated she would arrive today. I suspected my aunt had a spy among the Netherfield staff. Anne and Peter went to the inn last night, but the report of her absence from Netherfield may have alarmed Aunt Catherine. I apologize for the disruption.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I only wanted to wed you. All’s well that ends well.”

  He gave her a grateful smile and kissed the back of her hand before they plunged into a churchyard full of well-wishers. It seemed to Elizabeth that every person in Hertfordshire was bent on congratulating them individually.

  Charlotte and the Longbourn servants had departed quickly so they could ready the house for the wedding breakfast. Elizabeth found herself envying their quick escape. Although she was pleased to be among friends, the day had already been
a long one.

  It was a beautiful late spring day—warm but not too humid—as if nature celebrated along with the bride and groom. During those moments when her attention was not demanded elsewhere, Elizabeth allowed herself to take pleasure in the fresh spring breezes and the soft yellow light filtering through the overhanging branches.

  Lady Catherine and Collins were nowhere to be found. Perhaps her cousin had already bundled her ladyship into her carriage back to London, or she might be recovering from her shock at Longbourn. Elizabeth braced herself for additional unpleasantness at the wedding breakfast.

  They had wanted Longbourn’s tenants to share in the joy of the occasion, so Elizabeth had arranged for biscuits and lemonade to be served in the garden during the wedding breakfast. William had heartily approved of the gesture since the tenants had been good friends to her family but agreed that the modest confines of Longbourn Manor were not equal to the number of guests. Seeing the size of the throng, Elizabeth was particularly pleased at that decision.

  After sufficient mingling, Elizabeth finally gained the crowd’s attention and announced the lemonade treat, inviting everyone to make the trek to Longbourn. Fortunately, Meryton’s church was only a little over a mile from the house.

  The procession that set off for Longbourn was an interesting one. Elizabeth and William led the way, with their family members following. Behind them came various gentry from the town—and then a long trail of Longbourn’s tenants. No doubt the parade was a bit bedraggled for William’s taste, but Elizabeth would not have had it any other way.

  The bride and groom’s route slowly wound along the lane toward Longbourn, crossing a small bridge over a stream and following a curve in the road. There they came to an abrupt halt.