A hush descended over the room.
Mr Bennet was about to speak, but to everyone’s surprise, it was Kitty who stood and let loose with a volley of reproach and criticism.
“Your foolish elopement could have cost this family dearly, Lydia. It was not some wild adventure you went on, but a disastrous and selfish elopement that could have seen you dead, or worse. Mamma has been at her wit's end with worry. You have put your own father’s life in peril and jeopardised the engagements of both Jane and Lizzy. You are selfish, thoughtless and thoroughly spoilt, Lydia Bennet, and you don’t deserve all the attention you are getting.”
Several pairs of eyes swung between Lydia and Kitty before finally, Mr Bennet said,
“Well said, Kitty. I could not have put it better myself. Though I expect this will not be the last misdeed, Lydia will involve us all in. Now, I for one could do with a large slice of cook’s excellent apple sponge.”
Lydia was ashamed. As she had sat crying, tied to that chair in the darkness, cold, hungry and afraid, she had sworn an oath to God. If He spared her life and restored her to the bosom of her family, she would strive to be a better sister and a better daughter. She would do as her mamma asked and would share her things with Kitty. And finally, she would never let another man kiss her unless he was her husband. Kitty was right. Mr Darcy had been right, and though it pained her at the time, she now knew, Lizzy had been right. It was time to grow up and be a woman.
Walking over to her Mamma, Lydia gently put her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.
“I will never give you cause for concern again, Mamma, I promise.”
Mrs Bennet began to cry all over again, wiping her tear away with a soggy, and well-used handkerchief.
Stifling a tear of her own, Mrs Hill stepped forward and began to slice up the cake, while Mrs Bennet rallied and poured everyone a cup of tea.
Elizabeth turned to speak to Mr Darcy, only to find the space empty. She looked out into the hallway, but there was no sign of him there either. Somehow, she knew in which room to find him.
For some inexplicable reason, he always seemed to gravitate to this room, the music room. Perhaps it was because it was the furthest and most remote room in the house. Somewhere Mary could play and practise on the pianoforte for as long as she liked without disturbing everyone. So, there was little chance of them being overheard in here.
Darcy stood with one hand resting on the piano and the other behind his back. Turning only slightly, he acknowledged Elizabeth’s arrival with a curt nod.
Leaving the door ajar, she moved to stand by his side.
As Darcy turned to face her, Elizabeth expected him to take her in his arms and kiss her.
Instead, he folded his arms behind his back and stood stiff, drawing himself up to his full height.
Elizabeth noticed his jaw was clenched and a muscle in his cheek ticked under the strain.
“Mr Darcy?” she questioned, instinctively knowing there was something on his mind.
Darcy came to the point with little fanfare or warning.
“Elizabeth, two evenings ago my behaviour was reprehensible. It does not sit well with my beliefs of how a gentleman should conduct himself. It has played on my conscience, and I can no longer remain silent on the matter.” Darcy paused to pull in a ragged breath as he fought his emotions.
“As a man of the world, I knew what I was asking of you…what I was taking from you. Until the preacher has joined us together, as man and wife in the eyes of the law, and of God, I had no right to do what I did, to take what I took. I can only ask that you will forgive me for my momentary lack of self-control and error of judgement.” The anguish and contrition in his voice were profound.
Elizabeth thought for a few seconds. She wanted to ask, why now. Why not the next morning, or sometime during the day? Why now? But it was impossible at that moment, to trivialise his heartfelt apology. Instead, Elizabeth resolved to admit her part in her own seduction, and in doing so, hopefully, ease his burden of guilt.
“Mr Darcy, as it appears to be the time for confessions and making apologise, you must allow me to make mine…to you.”
Darcy interpreted her to say,
“I wish you wouldn’t, Elizabeth. You can have nothing to confess and certainly no apology to make to me! Besides, one is rash and the other superfluous. I would far rather hear neither.”
“I am afraid, sir, like you, I must make a clean breast of things. Apparently, neither of us are willing to enter into this marriage with a lie standing between us.” With natural assurance, she continued. “I have entirely misjudged you, even as recent as two days ago. My opinion of you was so full of errors and misjudgements. I have thought you proud and arrogant and full of prejudice, against me, my family, and indeed, the entire populace in general. But you have proved me wrong again and again. Yes, the pride was yours, instilled in you by your history, your pedigree, your parents, but the prejudice was mine. I thought your attitude and motives were driven purely for selfish reasons. I gave you no information as to where my dislike came from and no chance for you to defend yourself against it. I let the opinion of others influence me and feed my prejudice. But now, I have come to know the man behind the mask. The kind, honourable, responsible and respectable man called Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I no longer feel that way.”
Darcy blushed, accepting compliments never sat well with him.
“I have acted poorly, childishly, and naively. I am a grown woman and should have known better…did know better. Therefore, I can only tell you how sincerely sorry I am, and humbly ask for your forgiveness.”
Elizabeth lingered for a moment, then quietly asked,
“Does that make us even, sir?” She asked coyly.
“This is no time for flippancy, Elizabeth.”
Darcy broke his stance and took hold of Elizabeth by the shoulders.
“I am an adult, Elizabeth, a gentleman, not some callow youth who is unable to control his basic urges. I took from you something which is not yet mine to take.”
Elizabeth raised her hands and placed them on his chest. Even through his several layers of clothes, she could feel his heart beating. Strong, regular, reassuring beats, just like Darcy himself.
She had come to know the man behind the façade, and he was as good as everyone had said. His sister, Mr Bingley, even Miss Bingley had reassured her he was an honourable man. A good, kind, respectful and loving gentleman. And now, without a shadow of a doubt, she knew this for herself.
He had not taken advantage of her that night. There had been several opportunities when Elizabeth could have told him to stop, but…she had not wanted him to stop.
Looking up at Darcy, meeting his gaze, Elizabeth leant in closer, lowered her voice, and whispered,
“No, Fitzwilliam, but it was mine to give…”
Under her palms, Elizabeth felt the rhythmic beat of his heart change. It grew stronger and faster and bolder…
There were no more thoughts to think, only feelings and sensations.
Darcy felt the weight of the sky lift from his shoulders as Elizabeth uttered those words. There was no reproach, no anger, no regret… just love…Elizabeth’s love.
Mr Bennet watched as the young lovers became entwined in one other’s arms, their passion, mutual and matched. If someone had told him that Lizzy, his favourite daughter, would willingly go into the arms of Fitzwilliam Darcy, he would have told them it would be a strain on credulity to think such a thing. Yet, if ever there was a man that was labelled ‘misunderstood’, it was Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Closing the door shut, he left the lovers in peace, satisfied that Elizabeth’s future, and happiness, was safe in Darcy’s care.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth slipped out of the back door, along the lane and was soon skirting around the edge of Longbourn’s boundary, as she made her way to Oakham Mount.
The last few days had seemed like a dream, and she felt the need to escape and spend some time alone to refl
ect on events.
The duplicity of Mr Wickham had come as a complete surprise to all her family. Mr Darcy had forewarned only she, and even then, she doubted his word. Sadly, everything he had said and alluded to about Mr Wickham’s character had been true. Wickham had lied, cheated, used and abused the vast majority of Meryton’s townsfolk. But he had singled out her family to bear the brunt of his vitriol.
Once his true character had been revealed, she wondered how she had ever been so blind…so gullible? To seek out his company and listen enrapt by his every word. On at least two occasions she recalled ignoring the rules of propriety to walk alone with him in the garden. Thankfully, there had been no improper contact, only his lips on her hand as he bid her farewell. If only Lydia had been as circumspect.
But Elizabeth could not blame her sister for all her actions, no matter how irresponsible, untimely or dangerous they had been. Lydia had thought herself in love. And why not, Wickham encouraged her in that belief, even propagated it. Lydia had been his pawn, a means to an end.
She could see now that Wickham was driven by an unjustifiable jealousy and hatred of Mr Darcy, coupled with an overwhelming desire to hurt and extort money from him. And he had almost succeeded.
Then there were Wickham’s victims. The people he had stolen from, whether it be blackmail, unpaid bills or emotional theft. He had left a trail of devastated people wherever he went. And he appeared to have no boundaries. Georgiana had known him as a brother, but even that did not protect her from his bile.
Throughout all this, spanning several years, it appeared Darcy had remained, as ever, a gentleman.
There was no doubt she had misunderstood him from that very first night at the assembly rooms. Such a trivial slight has set her on a path that she was heartily ashamed of now. Without his intervention, where would all these people be now? Where would Lydia be?
A shiver ran down Elizabeth’s spine as she thought of what might have happened to Lydia, to her family had Mr Darcy not intervened.
With the peak in sight, she decided she would no longer dwell on Mr Wickham. Thankfully, he was no longer part of their life, nor would be ever again.
Having reached the top of Oakham Mount, Elizabeth sought out her favourite rock, wrapped her cloak around her legs and sat down.
Turned her mind to more pleasant things, she conjured up an image of Mr Darcy
Her intended had proven to be quite a man. In fact, unlike any man she had ever encountered before. He was kind and conscientious and charitable, he was honest and decent and fair. He was warm and handsome and loving. The perfect gentleman, husband and…lover.
Such a man deserved to be loved. To be loved by the woman who was to be his wife. And she did. Her foolish and shallow notion of being swept off her feet now seemed like both a childish fantasy and a reality. Though it had not been love at first sight, she had come to love Fitzwilliam so very dearly. The mere thought of him set her pulse racing and made her cheeks flush.
The night she had abandoned her maidenhood and willingly gone into Fitzwilliam’s arms and his bed, she had already surrendered herself to the reality that she loved him. Loved him passionately, ardently and unreservedly. And more than anything else in the world, she wanted to become Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy. And in just a few days’ time, she would be.
Darcy watched as a myriad of emotions changed Elizabeth’s features. One minute she was frowning, the next shaking her head and looking to the heavens.
He could not help but wonder what she was thinking. Was she worried about her family, her sister Lydia? Or was she thinking about him, regretting their night together or concerned about their future together?
Desperately, Darcy wanted to go to her side, to take her in his arms and reaffirm his undying love for her, but, how could he?
Locked in a battle with his own conscience and emotions, Darcy still could not believe that Elizabeth loved him, had come to him willingly, ergo, he must have taken advantage of her. Henceforth, he decided, it must be Elizabeth to first instigate any sort of closeness or physical contact.
Darcy lingered in the clump of trees on the edge of the clearing, frantically wanting to join Elizabeth, yet fearful of being discovered, of being rejected.
Turning to leave, hoping to creep away unnoticed, he stepped on a twig. Too late, he realised he had been discovered.
Elizabeth turned.
“Mr Darcy!”
“I am sorry, I wanted to join you, but you seemed so lost in thought, and I did not want to intrude,” Darcy said.
Inside, Elizabeth beamed. The very man that was filling her mind and warming her cheeks was standing before her.
“If you prefer, I can leave?”
Elizabeth realised her inward happiness had not transferred to her face.
Smiling, she offered him to join her on her seat.
“You seemed distracted, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, I was just thinking, about Miss Bingley and you,” she admitted with her usual candour.
“You must know that I did not encourage her in any way, Elizabeth. Any affection Miss Bingley felt towards me was totally unreciprocated.”
“I suspected as much, although it was quite evident to me that she had set her sights on you from the first moment I met her. Or rather, on what being Mrs Darcy could offer her,” Elizabeth said honestly.
“I am sorry she was hurt by my rejection, but what else could I do? I only ever looked at her as the sister of my friend, nothing more.”
After a brief pause, Darcy asked,
“Is that all you were thinking about?”
“No. I was also thinking of how your selfless actions have saved my family from total mortification, and the price it has cost you.”
Darcy thought for a moment. He had done what he hoped any decent gentleman in his position would do. Wickham had only been at liberty to act as he had, because of Darcy’s silence. Besides, Mr Bennet did not have the large funds at his disposal as Darcy did. In truth, he was only thirty pounds out of pocket, a trifling sum in the larger scheme of his wealth.
“I am not out of pocket, Elizabeth, Richard returned the money I paid to Wickham.”
Seeing the startled look on her face, he went on to reassure her.
“Oh, fear not, he has not harmed Wickham. Richard merely persuaded Wickham of the advantages and benefits of joining His Majesty’s Navy.”
Elizabeth understood his meaning perfectly, and although being press-ganged was illegal, she suspected the fate the colonel initially had in store for Mr Wickham had a more final outcome. Elizabeth also suspected that the only reason the Colonel had not ended Wickham’s life, was at the express request of Mr Darcy. Considering the alternative, life at sea seemed a preferable option.
With the silence between them stretching into minutes, Darcy asked the question he had sworn not to ask.
“Do you regret us, Elizabeth?”
The human and vulnerable side of Darcy was finally shining through the chinks in his gentlemanly armour. For her eyes only she suspected, but Darcy was finally sharing his insecurities, his concerns, his worried. And it made her love him even more.
“Do I regret meeting you and being slighted? No, not any longer, I understand why you said what you said…now. Do I regret your interference between Jane and Mr Bingley? I did at first, but how could I hold a grudge when it was you that reunited them. Do I regret your… original proposal? Initially, but no more. I think I was more surprised than anything. Do I regret your involvement with the rescue of my sister, Lydia? How could I, you saved us all from a life of ruin and invisibility.”
Pausing to take his hand in hers, Elizabeth continued,
“Do I regret consummating our love before we were married? No” she stated firmly, and then raised his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on his fingers.
The pounding in his chest felt as if his heart was about to burst free from its confines. His emotions had soared, and his head spun with the things he wanted to say and to ask.
“So, you truly have no misgivings about…that night, or marrying me?”
“No, my love. Did you know that I have Scottish ancestors? Well, in Scotland, they have a tradition called Handfasting? It is similar to being engaged, but if they choose to anticipate their wedding vows, it instantly becomes a marriage. I considered myself married to you from that moment, Fitzwilliam. In fact, I would marry you here, right now, if I could.” Elizabeth murmured with feeling.
“You would?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
“Then why do we not do it, here, now. I will go and get the Preacher, and we can be married within the hour.”
Elizabeth freed her hand and cupped his cheek tenderly.
“Without your sister, without your groomsman, without the Colonel?”
Darcy visibly slumped as Elizabeth pointed out the impracticality of his suggestion. He so very much wanted to be married to Elizabeth. His heart longed for her, his soul needed her, and his body ached for her.
Never one to sway from a challenge, Elizabeth said,
“Though I suppose if you send an express, and they do not mind travelling at night, we could be married tomorrow. Of course, the food will not be as fancy or as plentiful but…”
Whatever Elizabeth was going to say was lost in Darcy’s mouth as he covered her lips with his own.
Never had a kiss felt so sweet, so full of promise, so full of tomorrows. Neither of them wanted it to end, as they savoured the love and essence of each other.
No-one missed Elizabeth at breakfast, and the staff at Netherfield were accustomed to Mr Darcy’s long absences. Not even Odin questioned the length of time he was left to tarry alone, as he searched out the odd green blade of grass to nibble on.
Seated on several benched carried, up by the farm workers from Longbourn Farm and Netherfield Park, were approximately two dozen wedding guests. All but five were related to the bride. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana Darcy, Mr Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst were the few people the bridegroom had deemed to invite. While the brides’ side boasted the Lucas’s, the Gardiners from London, Mr and Mrs Philips, Mr Collins and of course the brides’ immediate family. Total guests, twenty-four.
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