Mary seemed completely unembarrassed by this question. “His son, actually.” She squatted by the hearth and tested a curling iron, sprinkling a few drops of water on it and making it hiss satisfyingly.
Elizabeth held very still when Mary held it next to her face and wound a strand of hair tightly around it. She could feel the heat coming off the iron rod, and the pungent smell of hot hair tickled her nostrils.
Mary withdrew the iron and examined the tight curl left behind. “Aye, your hair does take a curl beautifully.” She turned her attention to the other side. While the curl was settling, she said in an odd, low voice. “Mr. Darcy, he’s a very good man.”
The tone of her voice made Elizabeth feel oddly protective of her, and, even not knowing the circumstances, proud of her beloved.
The girl stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Oh, you do look lovely, Miss Bennet! Mr. Darcy won’t have eyes for anyone else. Not that he ever does, of course.” She set the iron curling rod on the metal rack to cool.
A squeal of children’s voices from below told Elizabeth that the Gardiners must have arrived. She thanked Mary for her assistance and hurried down to meet the new arrivals.
***
It was an unlikely congregation, Elizabeth thought as she walked towards the altar on her uncle’s arm. Miss Darcy and Lady Seaton sat erect in all their finery; her mother and sisters in carefully turned out and mended frocks from several seasons prior; Mr. Bingley looking as if he had slept in his topcoat and breeches; and Mary and Charlie, their faces scrubbed clean, sitting with the townspeople. Mrs. Bennet was already dabbing her eyes with her favourite handkerchief, but Elizabeth knew her primary sentiment at this occasion must have been relief.
Elizabeth shared the feeling, though her reasons were different. Through these last few days of happiness, she had been unable to put aside a fear that for some reason this wedding would never come to pass, that Mr. Darcy’s family or friends would stop it, or that he would realize the great disadvantages of the match to him and call it off himself. She had been hardly able to sleep the previous night for wondering if she would wake up to discover it was all a dream and that she must go back to working in Mr. Browning’s shop without hope for the future. But here she was, standing beside Mr. Darcy at the altar, the recipient of his loving gaze. His was not a temperament that overflowed with mirth, but the power of his happiness at this occasion could not be doubted.
She herself felt such lightness of being that she could barely attend to Mr. Roberts’s droning voice as he spoke the familiar words, “…ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity…”
“Enough!” A deep, angry voice sounding from the back of the church made her jump, pressing her hand to her heart. “I demand that you stop this farce.”
A well-dressed older gentleman strode towards them. Beside her, she could hear Darcy draw a sharp breath through his teeth. Elizabeth took an involuntary step backwards at the sight of the newcomer’s rage-suffused face. Behind him stood a younger man, the sleeve of his black coat pinned to his side.
Darcy took a protective stance in front of her, standing between her and the stranger. Without looking at her, he said coldly, “Miss Bennet, allow me to present my uncle, the Earl of Derby. Lord Derby, I must ask you to join the others in the pews while Miss Bennet becomes Mrs. Darcy.”
“I will not permit it!” Lord Derby snarled. “Darcy, come outside with me. I will not allow this nonsense to proceed.”
Darcy’s lips tightened and he turned towards the parson. “That decision is mine. Please continue, Mr. Roberts.”
The parson glanced nervously from one man to the other. “Thirdly, it was ordained—” he said hesitantly.
“No! You there—curate—if you perform this ceremony, you will live to regret it!”
“Sir,” Mr. Roberts addressed Darcy quietly, “perhaps we should discuss this in private.”
Darcy’s countenance became sterner than Elizabeth had ever seen it. “I will be happy to discuss it after the ceremony is concluded and not a moment before.”
Lord Derby sidled up to his nephew. “Darcy, listen to me. This is a grave error. Think of your responsibility to Georgiana, your responsibility to your parents, and to the Darcy family name.”
“Do not pretend you are interested in anything beyond the Fitzwilliam family name and fortunes, Uncle. I am sorry if you perceive this alliance as a disadvantage, but I do not, and you will not change my mind,” Darcy snapped.
Lord Derby’s mouth twisted with fury. “Did you not do enough damage to this family already, when your slut attacked Henry?”
At his side, Elizabeth blanched. Darcy put a reassuring hand on her arm as months of anger bubbled up in him, stoked by the injury his uncle was attempting to perpetuate upon Elizabeth. Elizabeth. He would not let his uncle harm her, even if it meant bringing the conflict to the fore in these public circumstances. “My maid did nothing but defend herself when Henry assaulted her.”
Lord Derby gave a hiss of dismissal. “How dare you defend her! She is nothing. She should have been honoured by his attentions.”
A cold rage settled in Darcy’s bones, setting free words he had previously decided he would never speak. “As her mother was honoured by your attentions, nine months before her birth. Do you think Mary should have been honoured by her brother’s attentions?”
A dead silence descended. Georgiana clutched Aunt Augusta’s arm. Henry sank into a pew, all colour gone from his countenance.
Finally Lord Derby spoke, his voice full of venom. “This is nothing but a foolish rumour.”
“Perhaps you would like to believe so. I sent an agent to enquire into the matter.” Darcy snapped his fingers, and Charlie appeared by his side. “Charlie, what did Mary’s mother tell you?”
Charlie drew himself up to his full height and spoke, not in his usual manner, but in a remarkable imitation of Darcy’s own accent. “She identified Mary’s father as Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s brother, the Viscount Langley.”
Darcy said, “As we all know, the then-Viscount Langley succeeded soon after to his father’s title of Earl of Derby, but that intelligence only confirmed the matter. She has enough of the Fitzwilliam looks that I suspected her parentage long before that.”
The earl’s face contorted with disbelieving rage. “Before or after you lay with her?” He did not spare a glance for either Charlie or Mary.
Mr. Roberts stepped forward, holding his hands out. “Gentlemen, please. We are in God’s house, and there are ladies present.” He might as well have kept his silence, for all the attention anyone paid.
Darcy raised his chin. “I never touched her.”
“You lie! You told us that day, and quite well pleased with yourself you were!”
“I said she had pleased me. I did not tell you how she had pleased me, which was by leaving my presence immediately at my request. You are my mother’s brother, so I will allow this one insult to pass, but should you ever accuse me of lying again, I will respond as a gentleman must.”
“Why, you… you are no better than your—” Lord Derby’s words were cut off when Aunt Augusta, in a most unladylike manner, pushed herself between the two gentlemen like an avenging Amazon.
“That is enough, Joseph,” she snapped icily, with no trace of her usual amiable eccentricity. “It is time for you to sit down. Now.” Her eyes shot out warnings.
“I will not.” He crossed his arms and glared at her.
“If you do not take the gentleman’s part and allow this ceremony to proceed, you will have cause to regret it. You and your precious family name will never be the same.”
If Darcy had stood any farther from his uncle, he would not have heard his next words. “You would not dare.”
“You have always underestimated me, Joseph.” Their eyes continued to wage war until, to Darcy’s complete and utter surprise, Lord Derby harrumphed and stalked to sit beside his son.
The parson, his eyes still darting from side to side, clumsily re-opened his prayer book and flipped through the pages with trembling fingers. As he searched, Elizabeth whispered with amusement to Darcy, “And I feared my family might create a scene!”
Her words allowed his rage to dissipate into the air, and as his vision cleared, he saw her framed in the morning light shining through the stained glass. He drew even closer to her, and with his whole heart he said, “You are my family.”
Her sparkling dark eyes met his, and he could see the love shining in them. Soon they would be bound through all eternity. He was indeed the most fortunate of men.
Mr. Roberts cleared his throat. “I believe we were considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Mr. Roberts allowed a brief, tense silence to fill the church, and then, with a look of great relief, he proceeded with the rest of the ceremony, which passed with blessed normalcy. Still, Darcy did not relax his guard until the parson had pronounced them man and wife. He had never before realized how beautiful those words could be.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as he took her arm to walk back down the aisle. He placed his hand over hers, rejoicing in the knowledge that it was his right to do so. Even his uncle’s grim face as they walked past could not lower Darcy’s spirits, but he noticed that the earl was sitting alone. Darcy quickly scanned the church for his cousin.
Henry stood in the shadows at the back of the nave. His face was drawn, and Darcy could see he had lost weight. His clothes were unusually sober, more suited to a funeral than a wedding. Darcy nodded at him as they passed, but Henry’s gaze seemed fixed on the altar, and he was not certain his cousin had noticed him at all. Or perhaps Henry had chosen not to notice him; Darcy doubted that his earlier statements had found favour with his cousin.
He was at the church door, and his attention was drawn back to Elizabeth and the warmth of her hand resting on his arm. His wife. He could scarcely credit it. Not even his family could interfere with his joy and relief. He released Elizabeth’s hand only long enough to sign his name in the register and to enjoy watching her sign her name as Elizabeth Darcy. At last.
***
Mary managed to kneel and stand at the appropriate moments during the wedding, though she wished nothing more than to crawl under the pew and hide there until everyone was far away. She knew they must all be staring at her, at the scandalous natural daughter of the earl. Even the wedding service could not compete with the scandal, as the low murmurs around her attested. She could certainly not bring herself to look at anyone, not even Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet, and certainly not at that man. The earl. She could not apply the epithet of father to him.
Since she had been a child, she had looked into the face of every gentleman who had visited Rosings, hoping to see a trace of resemblance, but her imaginings always included a pleasant gentleman, not one like the earl. Of late, she had begun to wonder if it might have been Mr. Darcy’s father, which would explain the favour she had been shown, both by him and by Miss Darcy. It would have made for a far happier discovery than this had been. She did not want that man to be her father. It was wrong of her to think ill of a peer of the realm, but how could she forget her first impression of him, that horrible day at Rosings? She had never been inside the great manor, which looked to her eyes like a palace until his servant, the one who bought her from her stepfather, brought her to his lordship for his approval. He had inspected her as if she were a brood mare before dismissing her with a laugh and instructions to please Mr. Darcy. And that man was her father. She repressed a shudder.
The events of that day had not been unexpected, apart from Mr. Darcy’s unusual behaviour. She had always known that poor girls’ lives could not be called their own and that she would be at the mercy of any great gentleman who looked her way, but she shrank from the memory, as she had not at the time. These few months in Mr. Darcy’s household had been the first time in her life she could recall feeling safe.
Charlie elbowed her, reminding her of where they were, just in time to allow her to join the rest of the congregation in a response. A few rows ahead of her she saw Miss Darcy’s fashionable figure. Had Miss Darcy known the truth of her parentage? Was that the explanation for the extraordinary kindness she had shown? No, Mary could not imagine Miss Darcy keeping such a secret. She simply had a kind and generous heart.
Before she knew what had happened, the service was over, and Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet—no, Mrs. Darcy now—were at the church door. There was a tug at Mary’s sleeve.
“Hssst!” Charlie said. “Follow me.” He pushed past a few villagers to exit the pew at the side. Mary murmured apologies in his wake. He grabbed her hand and wove past an old woman, heading towards the front of the church.
Mary could not imagine what could be so urgent, but for the moment, she was happy to resign the responsibility for making decisions, so she trailed behind him until they reached the gated pew where Miss Darcy sat with her aunt. She gasped at his audacity as he opened the gate and walked right into the private pew.
Lady Seaton turned a surprised look on them. “Who are you?”
“I do errands for Mr. Darcy, and this here is Mary.”
“Ah, yes, Joseph’s get. What can I do for you?”
Charlie flashed his engaging grin. “Nothin’. Since himself is afraid of you, I figured the best place to be was next to you, begging your pardon, madam.”
“Indeed? A sensible lad, I take it.”
Mary finally raised her eyes to Miss Darcy’s face. She was pale, but appeared to be watching her sympathetically. Mary ventured a wan smile.
Lady Seaton rose to her feet. “Well, if I am to be your protector, I will do it properly. Come along.” She held the aisle gate open as Miss Darcy exited the pew. Mary, uncertain, hung back.
“Come, child, enough of that!” Lady Seaton placed a gloved finger under Mary’s chin and pushed upward. “Chin up. You have no reason for shame, and you must not let his lordship see that he intimidates you. Now walk beside me.”
“Beside you, my lady?” Mary was horrified. “I cannot!”
“Rules of etiquette are made to be broken, and I cannot keep my eye on you if you are behind my back. Now come!”
Mary could not think but to obey such a command, but as soon as they were halfway down the aisle, she spotted the earl to one side, watching their progress, his lip curled. She shrank back a little.
Lady Seaton urged her forward. “Now, Mary,” she said, her voice loud and carrying, “tell me, are you fond of hounds?”
“Hounds, my lady?” Mary was completely confused.
“Yes, hounds. Fine creatures. I have four of them in London. Thor, Odin, Frigg, and Frejya. You would like them.”
“Yes, my lady,” and then they were out the church door, and away from that man.
***
The one-armed man approached the parson. “May I have a word?”
In truth, Mr. Roberts wanted nothing more than to retreat to his parsonage for a well-deserved glass of port, but he was a conscientious clergyman. “Yes, my son?”
“I have had a sign from God, but I do not know what it means.”
&n
bsp; “A sign? Are you certain?”
“Most certain. I have seen visions that have told me to watch for a sign, and today I received it. I have sinned most grievously.”
Mr. Roberts frowned. It was often difficult to tell the difference between a holy man and a madman, but if he had to guess, he would say that it was the latter who stood before him. Still, it was better to be safe and make certain of his judgment. “You are not from this parish. What is your name?”
The man swayed. “I am Henry Fitzwilliam, Viscount Langley. It was I who sought carnal knowledge of a young woman, not knowing she was my sister.”
Thank God he had not given way to impulse and ordered the man away! “My lord, perhaps we might discuss this in greater privacy. My parsonage is just across the road.”
Viscount Langley nodded abruptly and then looked up at the stained glass window above the altar. His eyes grew momentarily wider before he slid unconscious to the ground.
Chapter 20
Lady Seaton whisked Georgiana and Mary into a small carriage and gave the driver orders to make for Longbourn. At first, Mary did not dare protest. After all, she could walk back to Meryton from the Collins’s house as easily as she could from the church. But when they reached Longbourn and Lady Seaton declined to allow her to leave, Mary could no longer hide her agitation. “Truly I must return to Mr. Browning’s house. I am needed there.”
“I am certain they can make do without you for a few hours.”
“Mr. Darcy will be angry if I do not return.” Mary could think of few worse outcomes.
“I will tell Fitzwilliam that it is entirely my fault. He will be certain to believe that. Now, let us go in.”
Mary glanced at Georgiana, who nodded encouragingly, then followed the two women into Longbourn. She did not understand what had possessed Georgiana’s aunt since the wedding ceremony, but she was clearly not brooking any disobedience. It must have to do with that man.
She curtsied automatically to Mrs. Collins, wondering if she was to assist her with the wedding breakfast. With the hustle and bustle surrounding her, it seemed that another set of hands could be useful.
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