by D. L. Carter
“Well, there is nothing for it. We must know if the family is in expectation of an alliance between this Anne and Mr. Darcy. When we call on the Countess I shall find a moment to inquire. Will that please you?”
“It depends, aunt, on the answer.”
***
An urgent message sent to the seamstress had the desired result. On Wednesday next Elizabeth descended from her uncle’s carriage, wearing her new style of wardrobe. Gone were the pastels, the shy and retiring and modest gowns of a young girl. Instead, under the advice of her aunt, she had chosen carriage dress of warm amber lamb’s wool covered by a Spanish robe of deep green. The colors together brought out the rich color of her chestnut hair that was enhanced by a little cap of matching green velvet with gold braid trim. Never in her life had she worn a costume so fine nor so colorful.
She was spared from embarrassment or feeling too visible and bold by her aunt wearing an ocean blue carriage dress covered by a deeper hued pelisse decorated in a military style. Very fashionable and a good indication that while her husband was in trade he was very successful! Last to descend was the new Mrs. Bingley, whose husband had already augmented her wardrobe with a carriage gown of silk-velvet in pastel blue and sea-green cardinal mantle trimmed with ermine that flattered her pale complexion and hair.
Her father’s request as to the latest fashion in narrow skirts had also been heeded and as she walked up the steps Elizabeth remembered the look in Mr. Darcy’s eye when she and Caroline Bingley had teased him long ago in Netherfield. Shameless man, to say that he enjoyed watching their figures while walking. The confines of the skirt required her to move her hips in an entirely different manner as she climbed the stairs. A heated blush climbed her cheeks. If he could see her now there would be no doubt that her figure was womanly.
But today was a day for ladies together. She should not think of him, dream of him.
Foolish child that she was.
She was determined to speak his name not above twice during the visit and leave the close questioning to her aunt.
The Countess met them in the hall as they removed their shawls and gloves.
“I hope you do not mind,” began the Countess. “There is another young lady residing here at the moment and she most particularly wishes to join our party today. Unfortunately due to her delicate health she cannot come down. If you will permit, we shall take tea in the parlor attached to her bedchamber.”
“We are at your disposal,” said Aunt Madeline and the trio followed the Countess up the broad marble staircase.
“May we know,” continued aunt Madeline. “On whom do we impose?”
“My niece, the daughter of my sister-in-law. Miss Anne de Bourgh!”
***
Elizabeth almost turned and fled. Almost. If Miss Darcy had not emerged from her chamber at just that moment and caught Elizabeth by the arm she would have run from the building.
But the upturned face of Mr. Darcy’s younger sister, the girl who’d announced her admiration of Elizabeth’s strength on their first meeting, would not permit her to show cowardice now.
With a fixed smile on her face Elizabeth prepared to meet her competition. No. Not competition. The winner. The chosen. The one that must marry Mr. Darcy or else be exposed to the scorn and ridicule of society for presumption and pity for failed hopes.
And so Elizabeth believed up to the moment she curtsied beside the chaise on which Miss Anne reclined and looked for the first time upon the face of Mr. Darcy’s presumed fiancée.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Anne in a low wispy voice. “I have longed to meet you since my cousin Darcy spoke of you. I feel I know you already.”
It took a few shameful seconds for Elizabeth to find her voice.
“Mr. Darcy speaks a great deal too much,” she said eventually.
All his female relatives laughed at that observation.
“Generally my brother is told he is too quiet and reserved,” said Miss Darcy.
“On this occasion we know he has had a great deal to say,” added the Countess, “and has done so with unaccustomed eloquence.”
“I cannot account for it,” said Elizabeth. “When first we met him he said not a thing. Perhaps he was born destined to argue before the courts for it was before the coroner and magistrate that he had his greatest flow of words.”
“Perhaps that would explain it,” said the Countess giving Elizabeth a measuring look. “But, then again, the subject might have interested and inspired him.”
“Come, please and sit by me,” said Anne, extending a thin hand and grasping Elizabeth’s sleeve. “And you, dearest Georgiana. I do not see you as often as I like.”
“I do apologize,” said Miss Darcy, blushing again.
“Oh, I beg you, do not. I know the reason and cannot blame you.”
Anne began to direct the preparation of tea things and sharing out of cakes and bonbons, all without touching an item herself. Elizabeth watched and wondered. Surely this was not the person her silly cousin, Mr. Collins, described as the potential flower of the royal court. She was too fragile, too ill to endure the rigors of a season or court presentation. She was, it was soon obvious from her wisp of a voice and frequent pauses to simply lie still and breathe, that she could not bear the rigors of marriage either.
But she seemed to take a great deal of joy in the simple business of an afternoon tea. Gossip was shared, jokes made, and Elizabeth and Miss Darcy agreed they should begin a correspondence and refer to each other by their first names as good friends. The Countess did nothing to prevent the progress of their friendship.
It was not until Aunt Madeline declared it was time to go that Miss Anne begged Elizabeth spare her a moment of private conversation before departure.
“You cannot misunderstand my reason for seeking a word with you,” said Anne when the door closed behind the others.
“I would rather be told than guess,” said Elizabeth.
“Very well then, I shall be clear. I know that my mother has put it about that my dear cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, is to be my husband. She said so over and over to that parson of hers who I understand was your cousin.”
“Yes. Mr. Collins did tell me about you and your engagement.”
“There never was an engagement between us. No understanding nor hint of more than familial affection.”
“If you say so I must believe you. But when Mr. Darcy left Hertfordshire he let it be known that he intended to offer for you. His reasons for doing so are his own but you know how gossip travels. Even now I am certain there are persons in society speaking of your marriage as a done thing. If Mr. Darcy does not marry you he exposes you to the scorn of the ton.”
“What the ton may say of me will be of little concern to me soon. I am, as you can see, not in the best of health. I will not be the cause of my cousin’s unhappiness.”
“I fail to see why you feel you must discuss this with me.”
“Oh, my dear Elizabeth,” said Anne with a faint wheezing laugh. “Anyone who has seen Fitzwilliam this week and has known him before is astonished at the change. He speaks, he worries, he laughs - but only when he is describing you. At other times he stares out of the window, frowning, and we all suspect he is thinking of you as you are so far away. Please do not imagine a single member of his family is unaware of his ambitions in regards to you.”
“He has been free with his words.” Elizabeth blushed and turned away.
Anne laughed. “Oh, you do like him. I am pleased to see it. I want you to know, Elizabeth, I will not stand in the way of your marriage to him. I will not! Well, as you can tell, I cannot stand at all. Please, accept him. You will make his family happy.”
“But the scandal…”
“Posh. Think of that not at all. We have generated scandals of our own over the years. My dear mother is a constant embarrassment to us all. Believe it or not, you have not seen the worst of what my mother can say and do and when you know us better why don't you ask my uncle Matloc
k to tell you what his cousin got up to before he was ordained. You will never look a bishop in the eye thereafter.”
“Even so. Society shall hear of the scandal that surrounded me, and care not that it was unjustified. I cannot bring that burden upon your family.”
“Elizabeth, you have not heard so I will tell you. The Matlock’s and de Bourgh’s shall entertain the ton with gossip of their own for years to come. Do you not know? My uncle has recently appealed to the courts to have my mother declared a lunatic! Your little scandal is nothing to ours. But if you can bear to be associated with us, we can welcome you.”
Elizabeth stared for several minutes. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes. I assure you he did.”
“Then I shall consider it,” said Elizabeth, with a smile.
“Thank you. And please, before you depart London, do call on me again.”
“If you wish it, certainly I shall.” Elizabeth stood beside the chaise for a moment longer then leaned down and kissed Anne's fragile cheek.
Chapter Twenty-seven
None of the other ladies were in view when Elizabeth emerged from Anne's chambers. Elizabeth drifted through the house, glancing down corridors and hoping she was progressing in the general direction of the front door. The Matlock house was huge and the outside wintry light did little to dispel the gloom. She paused and concentrated. From somewhere up ahead she could hear her aunt’s laugh and the low warm tones of the Countess. Stepping out with more confidence Elizabeth turned a corner and found herself face to face with Mr. Darcy.
They stood, staring and both struck dumb. In that moment all communication was with their gaze. His eyes traveled over her features seeking something. Hers focused on him as if marveling that such a creature lived on this earth.
Elizabeth’s vaunted wit and facility with language abandoned her and she clenched her hands tight on her reticule strings lest she give in to the impulse to run her fingers over his face.
Eventually Mr. Darcy sank to his knees. Not, as Elizabeth feared at first, because he was ill and fainting, but to kneel before her. Catching her hand in both of his he smiled.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. Have all your doubts been addressed?”
Smothering a smile Elizabeth made no attempt to reclaim her trapped hand and leaned back, considering.
“Let me see. I must say, from your relatives I hear such conflicting reports of you as to confuse me utterly.”
“I would be happy to clarify any concern of yours. Only grant me the next fifty years in which to do so.”
“Such eloquence,” said Elizabeth, her heart, her spirits soaring. “I am awestruck.”
“Tease. Minx. Put me out of my misery and answer me. Will you accept me? Shall you be my wife?”
“My dear Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, leaning forward and pressing a gentle brief kiss upon his lips. “I would be honored. But I must ask for sixty years. If you would be so kind.”
“As my love commands.”
***
Jane, Aunt Madeleine, the Countess, and Georgiana awaited the newly engaged couple in the front parlor. As soon as they entered, Elizabeth’s hand captured against Darcy’s sleeve, all the women leapt to their feet to embrace the lovers and declare their joy at the engagement.
“We must have a ball!” cried the Countess. “We must declare to the ton we stand unashamed and united.”
“I thank you,” said Elizabeth as Jane kissed her cheek. “But there can be no celebration until my father and mother are informed.”
“Oh yes. Invite them. Invite them all,” said the Countess.
At this point the earl entered to investigate the noise. When he was informed that Darcy’s suit had prospered he laughed.
“Do not try and dissuade my wife,” he said to Elizabeth, who was a little dazzled by the Countess’s enthusiasm. “I only gave her sons. She has been waiting impatiently for years to have a girl to launch into society. This will give her practice for Georgina’s come out.”
“And Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, shocking Elizabeth to her toes.
“Miss Bingley?” she repeated. “What has she to do with this?”
“Why,” said the Countess, “our good Darcy has asked me to advance the girl in society. Now that Bingley has married into the gentry the whole family must be presented. I am told she is a little rough about the edges but I believe she can be worked upon. Oh, this shall be an excellent year.”
“The wedding must be soon, if Anne is to be a witness,” said Darcy, sobering everyone.
“Then I must write to my father,” said Elizabeth. “How shocked they will all be!”
“It would be better if you were to go home, Lizzy. I am certain your father will wish to see you.” Aunt Madeline’s gaze was distant. “Fortunately the modiste has your measurements. I shall tell her to expand the purchases to make a proper trousseau. That way it will be ready in time for your wedding.”
The Countess and Aunt Madeline fell to discussing fashions and come outs and other matters of interest to ladies with young daughters. More tea was sent for and a family dinner - so the Mr. Gardiner could meet his niece's new relatives - was arranged before Lizzy returned to Longbourn.
Elizabeth, it seemed, would not escape being the center of attention at a ball, as the Countess and Aunt Madeline made arrangements to meet while Elizabeth returned home, to plan a wedding celebration in London that would follow the ceremony at Meryton.
“When shall the wedding be?” inquired the earl.
“How long does it take to get a special license?” joked Darcy, and all the women cried out in protest.
“A month,” declared Elizabeth. “I am determined that all my neighbors shall hear the banns called!”
“A cruel punishment, indeed,” said Aunt Madeline. “All those gossips will chew their own livers to hear of your excellent marriage.”
***
Perhaps it was a little cruel for Elizabeth to send no notice of her impending marriage home ahead of her early return. The first notice her parents had was when Uncle Gardiner’s carriage turned into the Longbourn drive and Elizabeth leaned out of the window to wave.
Mrs. Bennet came charging out of the house, her lace cap askew, and shawl fringe flying.
“I knew it,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “I knew it. I told Mr. Bennet not to let you go! You have brought shame on our family in London and now Kitty and Lydia shall not be able to make their bows! Oh, shameless, wicked child.”
Elizabeth calmly kissed her mother’s cheek and strolled across to where her father waited on the stoop. To him she curtsied and handed over a neatly folded letter.
“Mr. Darcy follows in his own coach, accompanied by his sister, Georgiana, and shall be here in a few days,” said Elizabeth. “When you have read his note I would be very happy to discuss the contents with you.”
Mr. Bennet looked down at the page in his hand, then up at his smiling daughter.
“So, I am to lose you after all, Lizzy,” he said quietly.
“Yes, indeed, father.”
He nodded.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes. So much I can barely speak of it.”
“Then, bless you my child.” Mr. Bennet hugged her tight. “I could not bear to part with you to anyone less than worthy. And we both know he has earned you!”
***
It took the family a full hour to calm Mrs. Bennet and explain to her that Lizzy was not involved in another scandal, but instead was about to wed into the illustrious Darcy family.
And since it was family at table, Lydia was released from her imprisonment to join them.
A decision regretted almost immediately.
“Marry?” cried Lydia. “Lizzy is to marry Mr. Darcy? No. No. She shall not! Mama, it is too unfair. All good things happen to Lizzy. She has the best clothes. She is the one who goes to London. She will inherit Longbourn and take precedence of all of us. It is not fair!”
“I do not think she has had all good things,” began K
itty.
“She does. You know she does. Only look at those dresses. London dresses all of the finest silks and we get nothing more than gloves and stockings. You said yourself, Kitty, that blue dress would look better on you and that white muff would suit me better. Lizzy's so mean as to refuse to give it to us!”
“They were paid for with her own money,” pointed out their father.
Kitty patted the fine shawl of Indian silk that was her gift from London and refused to meet Lydia’s gaze.
“You, Mary,” continued Lydia, seizing her elder sister by the arm. “You were the one who said she should spend her life in prayer and isolation for the sin of killing Mr. Collins. You said she could not expiate her sin in a lifetime of prayer. How is getting married to a rich man making penance?”
Mary lowered her gaze to her plate and said nothing.
“I don’t see why Lizzy is to have the estate,” pressed Lydia. “Kitty and I should have it. We need husbands too. If Lizzy has Mr. Darcy she has no need of it. Make over your will again, papa! Give it to me so I might marry my dearest Wickham!”
“Lizzy is to have it for I trust her to care for her sisters and her mother, but I do not trust you to anything more than run through your quarterly pocket money in a month,” said their father. “She can practice economy, care for the tenants. See to the estate. Her, I trust. Her husband I admire. The rest of you are the silliest girls in the Kingdom.”
“Let her visit the tenants if she must but she does not need to have everything good. I have as much right as her, and more since I shall be home longest!”
“Sit down, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. “And stop being more foolish than necessary, I beg you. My mind is made up. It is Lizzy’s plan and Lizzy’s generosity that makes it possible that Kitty shall go to London to practice her painting under good masters. Mary goes to school in Bath, which I think is what she wants and you, Lydia, go to school in Essex, which is what you need. And all of this is paid for out of Lizzy’s share of your dowry. There, have done! I will hear no more complaints about her ungenerous nature!”