by Jann Rowland
A few moments later, when the door to the establishment opened and the pair stepped out, Gardiner studied them, knowing they had not seen him yet. Lydia was, it seemed, so happy as to be almost incandescent, and her companion seemed scarcely less pleased. The sight was heartening, even while it annoyed him, knowing the worry and heartache these two had caused their families. It was that final thought which spurred him forward to confront them.
“Lydia,” growled Gardiner, bringing the girl’s fearful eyes snapping to him and startling Darcy. “What have you done?”
Chapter XXXIII
Confronted as he was by the irate person of Mr. David Gardiner, the man with whom Alexander Darcy had shared public disagreements in the past, he did not know how to respond.
“Oh, my father will not chase after us,” Lydia had said only moments after their departure three days earlier, “if we are gone long enough that he sees the futility.”
“And what of your uncle?” Alexander had asked in return.
It was clear Lydia was not so certain of her uncle’s actions, but she attempted to show a brave face regardless. “Uncle is not so fearsome as you believe.”
“I am more concerned with whether he will pursue us with the purpose of preventing our marriage.”
“It is possible,” conceded Lydia. “If so, it would behoove us to proceed with all haste, would it not?”
To that Alexander could offer no rebuttal and had instructed his driver accordingly. While they had seen no sign of the man or any others who would stop them, Alexander had not relaxed until they stood within the blacksmith’s, listening to the burly man perform the ceremony. That completed, none could separate Alexander again from the woman he loved.
To now be confronted by the person of Mr. Gardiner, the insecurities which had plagued him on the journey to Gretna returned with the force of a stampeding horse. Alexander had never had any illusions as to their families’ opinion about their flight, a thought in the back of his mind leading him to propose to Lydia they retire to Thorndell rather than Pemberley and Longbourn, at least until tempers had calmed. The appearance of a belligerent member of her family was unwelcome after the joy of being joined together.
“Well?” demanded Mr. Gardiner when neither newlywed possessed the ability to respond. “I ask again: what have you done?”
As the young woman’s new husband, Alexander felt it his responsibility to reply in her stead, prompting him to step forward and put himself in front of her. “I love your niece, Mr. Gardiner. As it was obvious our fathers would never accept our wishes, we decided there was no other choice but to elope.”
“There is always a choice, young man,” said Mr. Gardiner. The man’s glare, which had heretofore focused on Lydia more than himself now beat down on Alexander, causing a nervousness to well up within him. Alexander had always thought Mr. Gardiner capable of implacable resentment and violence—it seemed this confrontation was about to prove those suppositions.
“Uncle,” said Lydia, pushing her way forward and confronting Mr. Gardiner, her stance akimbo, one foot tapping with impatience. “I should think it is obvious what we have done. We have refused to allow the madness between our families and your efforts to separate us.”
For a moment, Mr. Gardiner did not reply, his expression unreadable. Then he glanced away from his niece at Alexander, his gaze searching before he addressed Lydia again.
“I require you to answer me one question, Lydia. Can you please tell me if this mad escapade in which you have engaged was of your own volition? Or has this man persuaded you with the use of beguiling words and seduction?”
“There was no seduction involved, Uncle,” exclaimed Lydia. Alexander could almost hear the rolling of her eyes in her head. “Can you imagine me enduring such disgraceful behavior? Not only did I travel here of my free will and judgment, but nothing improper has happened between us. I am yet a maiden—do you think I would allow liberties from any man without the protection of marriage?”
An odd look came over Mr. Gardiner’s face as Lydia spoke, and he shook his head. “That, my dear niece, was a piece of information that, while comforting, I am not sure I needed to hear. No man who dandled a little girl on his knee wishes to be reminded that she is now a woman.”
“I should think looking at me would inform you well enough,” said Lydia with a huff.
“Perhaps you do. But any man wishes to continue to believe that his daughter—or young niece—remains as pure as the driven snow, even when she is in her dotage.” Mr. Gardiner turned his gaze to Alexander and added: “Should you have a daughter of your own someday, you will understand.”
Alexander surprised himself by grinning, a feeling of relief blooming in his breast—it seemed there was to be no further unpleasantness that day. “And yet, you are not a father, sir.”
“At present, you are correct. But I have been much involved with my nieces and have some idea of my brother’s feelings.”
The reminder of the baron was not welcome at all. Mr. Gardiner, it seemed, noted this, for he gave them what Alexander thought was a rather vicious grin.
“No, I do not think your fathers will be at all pleased with this impulsive bit of defiance between you. My brother tends to be accepting, and other than the obligatory bit of threatening concerning his daughter’s wellbeing, he will relent. As for your father, young man, though I cannot say I know him well, I suspect he will be harsher than the baron.”
Even Lydia, by this time, appeared a little nervous, which Gardiner seemed to notice, as he barked a laugh. Alexander shared a look with his new bride and knew she was thinking the same as he was, though he had not yet mentioned his notion to her.
“It was my thought,” said Alexander, voicing his opinion for both of them, “it would be better to retire to my estate at Thorndell for a time to allow tempers to cool.”
Mr. Gardiner chortled. “It is no surprise you wish to avoid your families for the moment. However, I believe it would be better should you meet your fate sooner rather than later. There are many members of your respective families awaiting word of your return. You would not wish to cause further worry refusing to face them, would you?”
Alexander would much rather inform them all by way of a letter of their wellbeing. It was clear, however, that Mr. Gardiner was not about to allow it, and while Alexander was not averse to choosing his own path—as he had proven by stealing away with a baron’s daughter—now was not the time to assert such independence.
“Do not concern yourself too much,” said Mr. Gardiner with an entirely unwarranted level of amusement, in Alexander’s opinion. “I doubt it will be uncomfortable for long. As I said, proving you will care for his daughter will placate the baron, and I have no doubt you will deal with your father in a similar manner.” Mr. Gardiner turned a hard glare on Alexander. “You do promise to treat her like the priceless gift she is, do you not?”
“Of course,” was Alexander’s quick reply. “Lydia’s happiness will always be foremost in my thoughts.”
“Excellent! Now, it would be best if we departed for Derbyshire. I have already spent the better part of three days chasing you. The comfort of my home is calling me, and I have no desire to keep her waiting.”
“Uncle,” said Lydia in a diffident voice, “we had thought to stay in Gretna tonight before returning tomorrow.”
“Nonsense!” was her uncle’s jovial response. “We shall use my carriage—yours may follow along behind. There is much of which you are not aware, for your opinion regarding your union never receiving acceptance is not as accurate as you expected.”
Alexander started and wondered what had happened—had William convinced their fathers to relent? Given no time to think on the matter further, for Mr. Gardiner led them toward his carriage and chivvied them inside, Alexander pushed thoughts of William and Miss Elizabeth to the side.
“Do not worry I shall keep you with me all the way to Derbyshire. I know young lovers wish to be alone in each other’s company, and I s
hall not keep you for long. But for the present, there are certain matters about which you must be informed. Once that is complete, you may ride in your own carriage, while I follow you in mine.”
Soon they were on their way, traveling most of the remaining hours until night began to fall. The revelations Lydia’s uncle made to them as they traveled were no less surprising to Alexander than his bride, but they provided him with the hope that matters would not be as difficult as he had expected upon returning to their families. Though Mr. Gardiner had no intelligence of their fathers’ reactions to the news of their siblings’ connection, surely he could not continue to be so hardhearted when confronted with their union.
“I must own that I am surprised with you, Lizzy,” said Lady Margaret. “As your father has said, I would have expected your youngest sister’s defiance, but not yours.”
This was not the first time in the previous days her mother had made such a statement; in fact, it had been a common refrain since Lydia left and her own engagement had become known.
“I am vexed with my youngest,” continued Lady Margaret, repeating the refrain they had all heard several times already. “For she did not afford me the opportunity of planning her wedding.”
“That is so,” said Lady Charlotte, who was visiting them that morning, “but now you have Jane and Lizzy’s weddings to plan, and I am certain you shall make up that lack with them.”
“And do not forget Mary,” said Elizabeth with a fond look at her sister. Mary beamed back at her.
“Oh, that is all very well,” said Lady Margaret. “But whoever heard of a triple wedding? I had much rather plan a separate wedding for each of my girls as they deserve.”
“And yet, Mr. Collins and I do not wish to wait a year to marry,” said Mary, to Elizabeth’s enthusiastic agreement. “We are more than content to share our wedding day, Mama.”
“It is best to allow them their way, is it not?” asked Lady Charlotte. “Planning for a wedding is a large endeavor—only doing it once for three daughters is much easier than planning three separate fetes.”
“I suppose it is if you put it that way.” Lady Margaret regarded her progeny, seeming to attempt to determine how set upon this course they were. Elizabeth fancied she could detect the exact moment when her mother decided there was no arguing them from their positions, for she smiled and said: “Then I suppose we shall have to ensure it is a special occasion, one befitting all my daughters. And perhaps we can include Lydia in some part of the celebrations.”
“And I am the only remaining unattached Bennet daughter,” grumbled Kitty.
“Do not concern yourself, Kitty by dear,” said Lady Margaret, diverted from her earlier thoughts, as Elizabeth thought was Kitty’s purpose for speaking. “When you come out in London next year, we shall ensure you are the toast of society. Just think of how it will be—you alone of all your sisters will be out and single and will command the attention of a bevy of young gentleman suitors. Why, you shall have the pick of the lot!”
“Never mind all the other young ladies who will come out into society,” said Elizabeth sotto voce.
As her mother was busy fussing over her second youngest and speaking of what they would expect, she had not overheard Elizabeth’s comment. Jane and Lady Charlotte, who were close by, both laughed into their hands in delighted merriment. Kitty, Elizabeth knew, was not feeling left behind or unhappy at her status, and she thought the girl was eager to be in society without her sisters’ vying for suitors’ attention. As for her mother, Lady Margaret had the heart of an actress and had always desired to plan elaborate celebrations for her daughters’ marriages. In the future, Elizabeth was certain she would look back on this time with gratitude they had accomplished three of them at once.
“Though I may echo your mother’s words,” said Lady Charlotte, “I must own that I am surprised with you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her friend. “I have it on good authority—from you yourself—that you knew of my meetings with Mr. Darcy.”
“That is not it,” said Lady Charlotte, a hint of laughter in her eyes and tone. “What surprises me is you did not inform me, your greatest friend, of your actions. I had thought we confided everything in each other!”
“Lizzy did not inform me either,” said Jane, following along with Lady Charlotte’s jesting.
“It seemed best to keep it to myself,” replied Elizabeth. “I did not wish my two closest friends and sisters to ostracize me for the crime of loving a Darcy.”
Jane and Lady Charlotte both laughed. “Oh, Lizzy!” exclaimed Jane. “Do you suppose that I of all people, would think ill of you?”
“Of course not,” said Lady Charlotte. “Any more than I would think ill of her, considering my own dear Colonel Fitzwilliam is cousin to Mr. Darcy!”
“I also wonder how you could have overcome the acrimony between you,” said Jane. “As I recall, did you not exchange terse words at the assembly in February?”
“Yes, we did,” replied Elizabeth. “To own it, I have no notion of how it came about, for I was in the middle before I knew I had begun. Thinking back on it, I must assume Mr. Darcy had some interest in me, for the first time we spoke with any civility, he came upon me reading near the border between Longbourn and Pemberley, where we picnicked under the oak tree.”
Jane and Lady Charlotte shared a look and a laugh. “That is certainly the way to our Lizzy’s heart!” exclaimed Lady Charlotte with glee.
“Oh, yes,” added Jane. “Mr. Darcy asked after her book and quoted verses to her, leaving her putty in his hands.”
“I will have you know he did no such thing!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Poetry, as you know, can never fan the flames of impending love. Mr. Darcy has never quoted verses to me.”
“Then perhaps you should correct this lapse in him,” said Lady Charlotte. “For there is nothing so wonderful as a man speaking words of the poets to you, for it feels as if the words were written for you alone.”
“I should much rather a man quote Psalms to me,” said Mary, “for it shows his devotion to me and to the Lord at once.”
The statement was so like Mary that Elizabeth almost burst out into laughter. Unable to determine why a woman would wish to hear words of devotion as spoken by the Psalmist—hearing them on Sunday was another matter—Elizabeth gave her sister a smile.
“Mr. Collins will oblige you whenever you wish, dearest Mary.”
“Indeed, I shall,” said Mr. Collins, looking on his own Bennet sister with unfeigned devotion. Mary blushed at the sight while Elizabeth looked on with happiness for her sister.
“It has all ended well then,” said Lady Charlotte. “Even though Lizzy’s actions have been, by some calculations, imprudent—to say nothing of Lydia’s—everything I have heard informs me our neighbors are happy the dispute has ended.”
“That has been my sense too,” said Elizabeth.
The entrance of several others interrupted their conversation. Georgiana had insisted on waiting on Elizabeth at once when she learned of the engagement, and in the intervening days, she had become a fast friend. While the elder Mr. Darcy remained aloof, the ladies of the family were eager to welcome their new relations, and visits were often exchanged between them.
All except for one of their number. As Georgiana and Anne, followed by William and Colonel Fitzwilliam, entered the room to greet the family, the brooding and unhappy presence of Lady Catherine followed behind. Seeing her with the group, Lady Margaret attempted to welcome Lady Catherine in particular, though her efforts to improve the woman’s mood were nothing less than a failure. The rest of the company chatted away, and while Lady Catherine had as yet said nothing to Elizabeth of her disappointment, Elizabeth was certain it would not be long in coming.
“So, you have not thought better yet of marrying my dour cousin Elizabeth?” asked Anne in her teasing voice. Lady Catherine perked up at the notion, but Elizabeth dashed her hopes before she could even consider them.
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�I am sorry to disappoint you, Anne. It seems you must endure me as a relation, for I am determined to have him.”
“Well, I have done my best to dissuade you,” replied Anne in a mournful tone. “I fear you have no notion what you are taking on.”
“If you have not noticed, Anne,” said William, “my manners have improved with Elizabeth’s help. Now I have something about which to smile.”
“It occurs to me to wonder if that is a jab at me, Cousin,” said Anne with a mock glare. “The only other young woman to whom you have ever been connected in such a way was me.”
“No one could repine the prospect of having you as a wife,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, unable to remain quiet. “If your cousin has not chosen to exercise the privilege of having you as a wife, it is his loss alone. We shall ensure a stupendous match for you, the likes of which will fill all with envy.”
The way Anne rolled her eyes Elizabeth thought she could guess the contents of her new friend’s thoughts. It seemed Lady Catherine had discounted the notion of Anne and Mr. Gardiner out of hand. When the lady turned her attention to Elizabeth herself, the premonition of the lady saying something impolitic fell over Elizabeth. It appeared no one else in the room would have taken that wager, for the lady’s character had become intimately known to them all.
“If this young lady had had any shame at all, she would not have intruded upon your already settled engagement.”
“Settled, Aunt?” asked Darcy, the mildness of his tone belying his pointed look. Though Elizabeth knew he would defend her against anyone, his aunt prompted amusement and exasperation; it seemed he did not think it necessary to leap in when it came to Lady Catherine’s ubiquitous complaints.
“It was the fondest wish of your mother and hers!” snapped Lady Catherine. “Though you have defied duty and common decency, I should think you would at least have the grace to understand that our plans have been thwarted by the upstart pretensions of a young woman without shame. You could have had so much better!”