by Brigid Huey
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy called again. She shivered. Her name spoken in his voice was special in a way that she could not quite comprehend. Turning round, she saw him standing in the doorway.
“I shall just be a moment, Jane,” she said as she excused herself to attend to Mr. Darcy.
Lizzy could not keep from beaming at the man himself as she drew nearer to him. How lovely it was, how felicitous, to finally be of one mind about their feelings. He smiled back openly and without reserve. If Jane witnessed this exchange, she was no doubt surprised, but Lizzy was too happy to care about politeness.
“Your father wishes to speak with you,” Mr. Darcy said as soon as she was near enough to hear. “Shall I escort you to him?”
“Thank you, sir.” There was absolutely no need to be escorted to the library, but they cared not for such particulars.
Mr. Darcy kissed her hand outside the library door then left her to speak with her father. She entered the room to find him standing before the fire. He asked her to shut the door politely enough, but once she had done so, he dropped his façade.
“Are you out of your senses to be accepting this man, Lizzy?” he demanded.
“No, Papa,” she said calmly. She was unsurprised that he should resist her union to a man that she had outwardly, vocally despised for some time.
“Have you not always hated him?” her father protested, clearly incredulous at her choice. “He is rich, to be sure, but will this make you happy?”
“I am certain that you will approve my choice, Papa, if you will permit me to tell you of the particulars.”
Her father, caught by the earnestness of her tone, sat down by the fire and motioned to the chair opposite.
“Please, my dear,” he said, his manner more subdued.
She sat and, putting her hands in her lap, tried to gather her thoughts. Then she began to spin her tale, relating in detail how her initial dislike turned to respect and then to love.
“I misjudged him, Papa,” she said finally. “His vanity insulted mine, and I could not forgive him. But he is everything that is good and worthy. I love him, Papa. Indeed, you do not know what he really is.
She then related how Mr. Darcy had found and saved Lydia, had paid Mr. Wickham to marry her sister, and had saved the family from ruin. For a moment, her father said nothing, stunned as he was by this revelation. At length, he smiled and then broke into a chuckle.
“Well, well,” he said. “I am glad you told me of this, Lizzy. Were it your uncle who had saved Lydia, I would have been obliged to pay him back. But these young lovers such as your Mr. Darcy cannot be deterred. They will go to great lengths to prove their devotion.”
Elizabeth could not like her father’s flippant tone, but she said nothing about it. There was only one point she needed to clarify.
“Will you give your consent, Papa?”
He sobered at once. “If you truly love him, Lizzy, I shall give my consent. Most heartily. I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy.”
Elizabeth felt a lightness in her heart then that she had never known. All uncertainty was now in the past. She kissed her father then left the library, eager as she was to find Mr. Darcy and convey to him that they were indeed to be married. Married! She could scarcely credit it.
She found him in the garden, standing alone near the gate and looking out into the surrounding countryside. How handsome he was, his figure strong and tall.
“Mr. Darcy!” she called, somewhat timidly. He turned at once, and her heart fluttered at the look of anxiety upon his features. She smiled, letting him know without words that all was well. His demeanor relaxed immediately, and he held out his hand to her.
“Did your father give you his consent?”
“He did, indeed. He wanted only to know that I had accepted your hand out of true affection and nothing else.”
Mr. Darcy squeezed her hand though he said nothing. She thought of his insecurity during their walk, of how often she had to reassure him. Her heart felt a pang of guilt at this knowledge. She had shaken him badly when she refused his hand in April.
“I told him I loved you—that you were the best man I had ever known,” she said boldly, giving him an arch look. “And he consented at once.”
He smiled at her then, openly and without reserve. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them, moving slowly as if to savor the sensation.
“When shall we marry, Elizabeth?”
“You have waited long enough, I daresay,” she said, laughing despite her shyness.
“Bingley informed me that he and Jane will marry next month.”
“Yes, though one month is scarcely time to gather a trousseau and manage to plan a wedding breakfast. I understand that my mother is quite happy to do it, however, as it means Jane will be married all the sooner.”
***
Darcy looked down at his lovely Elizabeth. He could not look enough. Her eyes, her hair, her beautiful smile. They enchanted him more than she could understand. He laced his fingers through hers.
“Might we join them?” he said.
Elizabeth, misunderstanding his meaning, looked around the garden.
“Indeed, we should,” she said. “It is only proper, for both of us. Though I must confess I have no idea where they have rambled off to.”
“No, my love. I meant, shall we join them at the altar? Shall we marry alongside them next month?”
She turned quickly to look at him, her mouth opened in an adorable look of surprise.
“Oh,” she breathed. To his utter delight, she smiled. “Yes, of course we shall! What a wonderful idea. Jane and I have done everything together since we were just girls. I can think of nothing better than to be married with her by my side.”
For his part, Darcy could not contain his satisfaction with the idea. To be married next month was the best he could hope for. It had been such a long, difficult road from last April. And yet, it had been worth it.
“I shall write to Georgiana as soon as I return to Netherfield,” he said.
“Oh! I shall be so happy to see her again. And will she bring Daisy?”
“I do not know,” he replied truthfully. “Do you think it wise that Daisy should travel at so young an age?”
“Perhaps you are right,” she said, though her face fell. “It is just that I miss her so.”
“You will be with her always in just a month’s time.” He took her other hand in his and looked his fill. A sweet blush graced her fair skin, and he heaved a sigh. “Come, my love, let us find Bingley and share our news.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jane and Bingley were both as pleased as could be with the announcement of Elizabeth and Darcy’s betrothal. When the new couple asked to share their wedding date, Jane’s rapture could not be contained. She cried tears of joy as she embraced Elizabeth.
“This will make our wedding complete! To share such a special day with you is exactly what I would wish!”
For his part, Bingley was all smiles and congratulations. He kept nodding and beaming at them both, occasionally slapping Mr. Darcy on the back in a jocular manner.
“This is perfect, Darcy! Brothers at last. I can think of no man better suited to Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth and Darcy had gazed at each other blissfully through it all. Their private moment of joy, however, was only to be a moment. Upon being informed of their betrothal, Mrs. Bennet was not to be quieted. She doted most dreadfully upon Mr. Darcy, suddenly becoming obsequiously polite with the gentleman. He bore it well, Lizzy thought, though her own mortification was acute.
Yet, Mr. Darcy made it clear that, however much he found her mother a trial to be endured, it mattered not. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, he stayed by Lizzy’s side, accepting congratulations from her sisters and effusions of joy from Mrs. Bennet with due courtesy.
At last, the time came for the gentlemen to depart. Lizzy was sad to see them go but relieved to have a moment to herself. Jane came
to her room that evening, and the sisters spent many happy hours detailing their trials and triumphs in love. When the whole of Lizzy’s story had been told, Jane sat amazed.
“How uncomfortable you must have been! To come upon Mr. Darcy after refusing him!” Jane exclaimed. “And with a child besides! However did you keep your countenance?”
“Truly, I know not,” Lizzy replied. She thought back to that day in the woods—Mr. Darcy, Daisy, the storm. It had all happened so fast; her life had changed dramatically in that one moment though she had not understood it at the time. “I believe it was a blessing that I had not time to consider things too closely. It allowed me to accept Mr. Darcy’s help. For you know too well my stubborn nature. If it had been a sunny day, I may have refused his assistance outright.”
“Lizzy,” Jane said, suddenly serious, “are you nervous at all about becoming a mother to Daisy—to undertake such a responsibility so soon?”
Lizzy looked down at her hands. She had not mentioned Wickham’s supposed connection to Daisy, hoping Jane would never need to know such distressing information. Yet even without this troubling piece of news, Jane was well able to grasp the difficulty of becoming a wife and a mother all at once.
“Lizzy?” Jane prompted.
Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted to the memory of Mr. Darcy sleeping in the nursery, Daisy in his arms. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It would all be new to her, and Lizzy could not stop the trembling in her belly at the prospect. “I am nervous at times,” she replied at last. “When I think, however, that my own Mr. Darcy has taken this responsibility so willingly upon his shoulders, my resolution to do my very best grows stronger than my apprehensions. For truly, Jane, I shall not be alone. Mr. Darcy and I shall do our best together.”
Jane exhaled in relief, no doubt reassured by Elizabeth’s easy countenance. She gave Lizzy a gentle, calming smile. “I know that the two of you will be excellent parents to Miss Anne Elizabeth,” she said with all the confidence of a sister who believed that Elizabeth could do anything that she wished to do, should she only put her mind to it.
Elizabeth stayed awake long after Jane had gone to bed. She lay in her bed, to be hers now for only three weeks longer. Despite her confident words, she was nervous. Her heart held all manner of apprehensions. To be a married woman, a mistress of an estate such as Pemberley, and a new mother besides, was quite a lot to consider.
***
The wedding day dawned clear and bright. A slight chill in the air spoke of the change of seasons. Darcy looked out his window to the countryside surrounding Netherfield. In only a few hours’ time, he and Elizabeth would be married, never to be separated again should he have his own way.
They would be married at Longbourn church and would leave for London directly after the wedding breakfast. Then, at last, they would be blissfully, wonderfully alone. The past few weeks had crawled by, and Darcy was more than glad that the wedding day had finally arrived. He rang for his valet and began preparations for the day.
After much discussion, he and Elizabeth had decided not to have Daisy travel down for the ceremony. She was still so young, only a few months old, and the travel was simply too much to be borne by one so vulnerable.
It pained them both to be without her on this special day, the more so since Elizabeth had not seen her in more than a month’s time. Darcy had traveled home to Derbyshire after their engagement, eager to share the news with Georgiana. The many hours he had spent in her company and with Daisy had eased his separation from Elizabeth just enough to make it tolerable.
He had returned to Netherfield just a few nights before. He and Elizabeth had decided against a long wedding trip, favoring a tour of the Peak District instead. This would keep them close to Pemberley. For his part, Darcy wanted nothing so much as time alone in his home with Elizabeth. He wanted to share his life with her—truly share it. They would take long walks through the gardens, wind their way through the woods of Pemberley—without storms this time—and take in the delights of his favorite local places.
Above all, however, Darcy simply wanted time alone with his wife. It was all he could think about.
He was grateful when his valet informed him that he was ready and it was time to travel the short distance to the church. He met Bingley in the front hall; the man was positively bursting with nervous energy.
“Do you know, Darcy, I have never been so nervous in my life.”
“What is to be apprehensive about?” Darcy asked. “This is the culmination of your hopes these past many months. Surely, there is only happiness to be enjoyed.”
“Yes, but Darcy,” Bingley protested, “I do believe I shan’t be easy until it is done.”
Darcy smiled at his friend, soon to become his brother. He did understand but saw no reason to reinforce Bingley’s nervousness with his own.
“Come, let us to the church,” he said.
To the church they went, and before long the building was filled with friends and relatives, all smiling at the two gentlemen who stood resolutely at the end of the short aisle next to the local curate. Georgiana beamed at him from the front row. She had made the journey to Longbourn last week with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
The two of them sat together now, happiness for him obvious in their features. He gave them a brief nod. Standing in front of a crowd had never appealed to Darcy, and the fact that it was his wedding did not make the experience any easier. His anxious thoughts were interrupted at that moment, however, by the entrance of Elizabeth and Jane. They stood at the back of the church, each holding an arm of their father. As they began to walk down the aisle, Darcy focused on Elizabeth, and all other thoughts, concerns, and apprehensions fled from his mind.
She was exquisite—positively radiant. Her beautiful cream-colored gown draped elegantly to the floor, her train of lace trailing delicately behind. Her hair was piled in curls atop her head, and small pearls were scattered throughout. Her brown eyes shone with deep emotion, and her fair skin was painted with a delicate pink blush. She looked like a fairy queen. As she reached him, her father placed her hands in his, and Darcy felt something within him shift.
They were together now, forever. In a few moments, the parson would speak the words that would bind them before all. The enormity of the moment overwhelmed him, and he found that all he could do was squeeze Elizabeth’s hand and gaze down at her, hoping that all the love and devotion he felt was plain on his face. It must have been for she gazed up at him with a benevolent smile of complete felicity.
Darcy could hardly attend to the ceremony, so enamored was he with Elizabeth, his fairy queen. It was not long before the words had been spoken, the book signed, and their wedding ceremony completed. They walked together after Jane and Bingley out into the brilliant sunshine of the late autumn day. Everyone cheered and threw flower petals at the two couples as they made their way to the waiting carriages. In a moment, they were inside, Elizabeth sitting beside him—his own, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.
“Well, Mr. Darcy?” she said, arching her brow at him in the way he loved most. “And are you as exceedingly happy as I am, sir?”
“I am happier than I have ever been in my life, Elizabeth,” he answered at once. The coach gave a sudden jolt, and he realized they were heading back to Longbourn.
“As am I,” she said sweetly.
He seized the opportunity of their private moment and drew her to him, careful not to disturb the intricate lace of her dress or the delicate styling of her hair. Cupping her face gently in his, he leaned forward and kissed her. She raised her face to his, and his lips moved gently over hers. Her sigh of happiness echoed that which was in his heart.
“My dear Mr. Darcy,” she said as he pulled away, the carriage having pulled into the long drive of Longbourn.
“Might you call me something a little more intimate, now that we are married?” he asked.
“Oh! I suppose I am allowed such a privilege now, am I not?”
“You are allowed all th
e rights and privileges of being my wife,” he said. “Though in this instance, the privilege of having you address me by my name seems to be mine. For you and I are one, Elizabeth, and there need be no more ceremony between us.”
“Then what, pray, shall I call you? What is your wish, my dear?”
The carriage drew to a stop, and the attendant outside waited for Darcy to open the door, wisely judging that the couple may want a moment to prepare themselves.
“You may call me whatever you wish, Elizabeth, but ‘Fitzwilliam’ would be a good place to start.”
“Well then, my own Fitzwilliam, shall we not go in to breakfast?”
Darcy felt the import of the intimacy of the moment. He took her hand, and bringing it to his lips, kissed her gloved fingertips.
“Let us join our friends and relations, my dear Elizabeth, before I whisk you away from all, keeping you only for myself.”
***
The wedding breakfast was lovely, and Elizabeth had to admit her mother had outdone herself. Cook had prepared everything just so, and the flowers in each room filled her senses. The breakfast proceeded with all the smoothness of one planned with exceptional care. Jane and Elizabeth had helped as well, of course. It was Jane who had insisted on fresh flowers, though the season was late. Netherfield had a hothouse, and there were more than enough blooms to fill the church and the dining room at Longbourn.
She and Darcy moved from room to room, thanking each visitor for coming, saying farewell to friends and relatives both. Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam took their leave first. They were to travel together to his family home in London and then to Matlock to visit the colonel’s mother and father, the Earl and Countess of Matlock.
When it was time for the brides and grooms to depart, Jane and Bingley would have a short trip to Netherfield while Elizabeth and Darcy were to travel to Darcy’s London home in Grosvenor Square. Elizabeth was not a little nervous to encounter her new staff in what she imagined to be a stately home, but Mr. Darcy had assured her that all would be well. In this, she had decided to trust him, as this was part of her duties as the mistress of Pemberley.
