Mr. Gardiner was silent for a moment, then spoke in more understanding tone. “I had not realized that was how the land lies. My apologies.”
“Accepted.” He hoped they could drop the subject now.
“I admit I had thought Lizzy’s judgment to be superior to that, but there is no accounting for women’s tastes.”
It was not a subject Darcy wished to discuss. “Speaking of which, I hope Miss Lydia has not changed her mind.”
“Not at all. She is sufficiently distracted by the excitement of being married at sixteen that she seems willing to forget the circumstances, and she accepts Mr. Thomas Wickham’s blandishments at face value.”
Darcy could hardly believe the foolish child was Elizabeth’s sister, but in this case, her credulous nature worked to his advantage. “He has continued to call?”
“Most faithfully. I have no complaints of him.”
“Good.” He had not precisely doubted Tom’s word on these matters, but he was relieved to know he had not been deceived.
Mr. Gardiner opened his inkwell and dipped his pen in it before signing his name across the bottom of the settlement. He sanded it lightly and laid it aside to dry. “Have you any word on his future?”
“He is looking to sell his commission. He says soldiering is a young man’s job, and plans to let a house. I have indicated to him that Hertfordshire should not be on his list of possibilities.”
“Well, in a few days our job will be done. I cannot say I will be sorry for it.”
Darcy could not feel sorry for anything at the moment. His mind was already travelling to Elizabeth’s nearby presence.
***
To Elizabeth’s surprise, dinner was not the strained event she had expected. Mrs. Gardiner’s facility as a conversationalist, the surprisingly mature behaviour of Mr. Thomas Wickham, and Lydia’s apparent awe of her future husband provided an atmosphere where there was little to embarrass Elizabeth in front of Mr. Darcy. It had felt odd to meet this new Mr. Wickham who bore a distinct resemblance to his younger brother, yet seemed to have more steel under the surface charm. Hopefully his firmness of spirit would keep Lydia’s excesses under control.
Elizabeth was seated as far as possible from Mr. Darcy, which gave her an opportunity to observe his beloved face and commit the lines of it to memory, but precluded easy conversation. The occasional questions he directed toward her showed a stiffness of manner which did not characterize his interactions with her aunt and uncle.
She was torn between relief and regret when Mr. Darcy announced he must be leaving shortly after dinner ended. Mr. Gardiner went to call for his carriage followed by Mr. Wickham, and, with a smoothness that could only have been orchestrated, Mrs. Gardiner claimed she could hear the baby’s cry and needed to check on her, taking Lydia with her.
Elizabeth was so unnerved by this unexpected development that she hardly knew what to say to Mr. Darcy now that they were alone. Finally she collected herself enough to indicate that she had not expected his presence there, wishing him to know that she was not deliberately throwing herself in his way.
“Your uncle told me as much,” he said gravely, but he did not offer an explanation of his own presence.
She gathered her courage and looked straight at him. “Mr. Thomas Wickham. What sort of man is he?”
He made no pretence of failing to understand her question. “He is as fond of money and good times as his brother, but does not share his willingness to pursue them at any cost. He is honest, and will make a better husband than his brother might have.”
“That is hardly the greatest of commendations, under the circumstances,” she responded.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to impugn his character. I believe he will treat your sister well.” He fell silent, then roused himself to speech again. “Georgiana would no doubt be happy to see you while you are in Town.
Were she aware of your presence, I am sure she would invite you to call upon her.”
Elizabeth heard what he had carefully not said, that his sister was not to be expected to call at Gracechurch Street. The knowledge hurt, though she could not claim there was another choice. The very idea of exposing Miss Darcy to Lydia mortifying beyond measure. “If I have the opportunity, I will be sure to call on her.” Even if it would mean another occasion of torturing herself with what she had lost.
“I thank you.” Darcy had no opportunity to say more, as Mr. Gardiner returned with the intelligence that his carriage was waiting. Elizabeth bid him a quiet adieu, wishing she could see what was in his heart, but knowing that in the end it would make no difference. Even if he still cherished tender feelings towards her, nothing could come of it.
***
Elizabeth was glad to be busy the next few days, as it was the only thing that could keep her mind off Mr.
Darcy. She half-wished she had not seen him again; it had only made her more certain what a good man he was and how much she had lost in him. It was some consolation to know she was still dear enough to him that he would undergo such mortification and expense to alleviate her suffering.
She longed to ask her uncle whether Mr. Darcy would be returning, but she could not justify the inquiry.
Mr. Gardiner did not mention Mr. Darcy’s name; the only person who did that was Lydia, and then only to complain about what a dull fellow he was. It made Elizabeth’s hand itch to slap her.
She had some opportunity to further her acquaintance with Mr. Thomas Wickham, whom she found to possess much of his brother’s easy manners, but seemed rather more solid in character. It was difficult to judge his substance since he spent much of his time flattering Lydia. Elizabeth wondered whether Mr. Darcy paid him extra for that service.
Soon the morning of the wedding arrived. Elizabeth deliberately closed her ears to all of Lydia’s self-satisfied comments about being the first to marry and her wonderings about whether her dear Thomas would wear his red coat or the blue for the ceremony.
Lydia’s chattering then turned to worry. “I do so hope that nothing will occur to delay matters. Do you think my dear Thomas will be at St. Clement’s on time? I would so hate it if he were late. I think I would go distracted! If we are beyond the hour, we cannot marry all day! Can you imagine?”
“I can imagine that if we do not hurry, we shall be the ones who are late,” Elizabeth said sharply. “The carriage is at the door, and our aunt and uncle await you.”
Lydia was immediately all smiles. “I am so glad you are come to London, Lizzy. I would not for all the world be married without one of my sisters to stand up with me!”
“I can indeed see that your wedding day would be far less satisfactory if you had no one to remind that you are first to marry, though you are youngest. Weddings have so little to do with actual marriage, after all.”
Elizabeth doubted her sister would even notice the irony.
“See, that is exactly what I mean!”
Eventually she managed to herd Lydia down to the coach where the Gardiners waited and they set off to the church. Elizabeth reflected that a less joyous wedding party would be difficult to imagine, with the exception of the bride who evidenced enough excitement for the entire City of London.
On their arrival at the church, they discovered that the bridegroom had been timely, to Lydia’s loud and oft-repeated relief. He took his place at the altar, but Elizabeth had eyes for no one but the gentleman by his side. He had come.
For a moment the world seemed to narrow down to the very spot where Mr. Darcy stood. The strained sunlight coming in the window threw his features into relief, making him look almost like a statue in a museum, and then he smiled. It was only a slight, tentative smile, but she knew it was for her. She felt her skin tingling all the way down to her toes in their tight leather half-boots.
She floated up the aisle behind Lydia and Mr. Gardiner, buoyed by that smile. She had not allowed herself to hope for this, for one more day when she could be with Mr. Darcy on an equal footing, as if none of the problems betwe
en them existed. It was a day she would keep in her memory as a treasure to be looked upon over the years. It was enough.
Elizabeth took her place beside Lydia at the altar, but for her, the bride and groom hardly existed. All her attention was focused on the man who stood opposite to her. He was making no pretence of watching the ceremony. Elizabeth heard the familiar words droned by the curate who had no doubt performed this rite hundreds of times and did not even know this particular couple. Odd, that he could be marrying Lydia and Thomas Wickham and not know the entire history of the matter, how this unlikely ending had come about from the most unpromising of beginnings.
Darcy’s dark eyes were focused on her as if he was trying to read her very soul. She wondered if he could indeed know the feelings that were inside her, the affection, the longing, and the hopelessness of anything beyond this moment. Did he still blame her for her past harsh words, or had he found forgiveness in her heart for her?
She tried to focus on the ceremony as the curate droned on about the purposes of matrimony. “…To avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body….” It was a fine description of the true purpose of today’s wedding, which was in response to carnal lusts and love of money. Not a firm foundation for a marriage, but better than some, she supposed.
Darcy’s eyes bored into her as the curate continued that marriage was also ordained for mutual society, help and comfort. That was the kind of marriage she might have had with him. She knew now that he could be relied on for help and comfort, exactly those traits she had once thought he completely lacked.
What would it be like if she were the one standing before the altar, hearing the words of the vows from him, promising to love and cherish her, till death parted them? She could almost hear how the words would sound in his deep, sonorous voice, echoing through the empty church. But it would not have been empty for them. They would have married according to the normal process of affairs, with family and friends as witnesses, not this lonely mockery of a wedding between two people who hardly knew one another.
Elizabeth knew she should look away, but the connection was too intense. It was almost palpable, and she wondered in the back of her mind whether her aunt and uncle would notice anything. She would not be surprised if Mrs. Gardiner was watching them.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” The words swirled around her, shivering through her mind and body. Never to be put asunder - what a thought! She had never before imagined a man to whom she would long for such a connection, for something that went beyond the demands of society and the requirements of family. What would a wedding night be like with such a man, to allow him as near in body as in spirit? Her body grew taut at the thought.
So rapt was she in her thoughts that she almost missed the responses when they began. It was his mouth, forming the words, “Christ have mercy upon us,” that reminded her of where they were. She realized how improper her behaviour must appear, and resolutely turned toward the curate for the remainder of the ceremony, concentrating on the actual bride and groom as if her thoughts of them could guarantee them a happy future. Lydia was supposed to be her focus today, not Mr. Darcy, no matter what her treacherous heart might say.
***
Darcy was both moved and shaken by his experience of the wedding. There was the mockery of a marriage taking place before him, but in his heart, he was the one making the vows to Elizabeth, promising to love and cherish her, and to worship her with his body. Heaven knew his body already worshipped her; it had almost since they had first met, despite all his efforts to forget her, to transfer those feelings to another, more suitable woman. She was so deeply entwined in his heart that he was hardly aware where one began and the other ended.
He wished he knew what she was thinking. She had steadily held his gaze through most of the ceremony, but whether it was with disdain or pity he could not say. Perhaps it was nothing more than a desire to avoid watching her sister’s simpering. Elizabeth had looked away from him at the end, and never looked back as the curate droned the remainder of the rite in his completely disinterested manner. Had he frightened her, or perhaps embarrassed her with the obviousness of his emotions? Surely it must be troubling on some level to have to face an unwanted suitor. Elizabeth was soft-hearted and generous; he knew that well. She would not wish to be cruel to him. But it was not her kindness he wanted.
He remained aware of her each step of the way as they filed out of the church. Lydia hugged Elizabeth and said a cool goodbye to her aunt and uncle, then climbed to join her new husband in their rented carriage, paid for by Darcy’s money. Lydia enthusiastically waved an embroidered handkerchief as they drove away, leaving behind a significantly less enthusiastic audience.
Mr. Gardiner spoke first. “Well, that is done, and I am not sorry to see it over.”
His wife added, “It will be so pleasantly calm and peaceful at home! Though I have a duty first. I promised to write to my sister Bennet with every detail of the wedding. Perhaps I will leave out just a few details, though.”
Her archness was almost an echo of Elizabeth’s.
“I am sorry for Lydia’s behaviour today,” Elizabeth said to her aunt.
“It was hardly unexpected.” She turned to Darcy. “Lydia dearly wanted a celebratory wedding breakfast, and we refused. It seems to me there has been quite enough celebration of an event that is unworthy of it.”
“I cannot argue,” he said, although for himself, he regretted the lack of a wedding breakfast. It would have been an opportunity to spend another hour in the same room with Elizabeth. Since she had not come to visit Georgiana, this might well be the last time he saw her.
He found himself stepping toward her, as if in half-involuntary protest of the possibility. She stirred at his approach, giving him a saucy smile.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, his first words spoken aloud to her all day.
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”
“I hope it has not given you any uneasiness,” he said stiffly. “It was my responsibility to mend matters as well as I might. I need no gratitude for doing my duty.”
“Your duty? And how precisely did it become your duty to watch over my errant sister?”
He was surprised she did not understand. “Had I revealed what I knew of Wickham sooner, the elopement could never have occurred.”
“I might as well say that, had I read a certain letter, it might not have occurred, but I hope you do not consider me completely to blame.”
“Of course not! You were following the proper course, and I cannot fault you for it.”
“Well, regardless of your opinion, I am still grateful to you.”
“I do not want your gratitude,” he said, the words coming to his lips without a thought of how ungracious they might sound. “If it gave you relief, in that I am happy. But on a day such as this, when I cannot help thinking of how it might have been different, please do not speak to me of gratitude.”
The teasing expression left her face, replaced by one he did not understand until he realized the sudden luminousness of her fine eyes was the result of welling tears. He watched with horror as a drop slid down her cheek, cursing himself for raising the issue of his rejected suit at one of their rare moments of harmony. But before he could say anything, she ducked away from him and put her hand through her aunt’s arm.
He felt her withdrawal like a knife. He heard her voice, discussing some future plan with great animation, and felt rejection afresh. Why did he keep thinking she would somehow forgive him? It was far too late for that.<
br />
He should have said nothing at all, and not allowed the depth of her eyes to draw more from him than should have been said.
There was only one thing left he could do for her, and that was to stop embarrassing her. He approached Mr. Gardiner who was settling with the curate, and informed him in a low voice that he was required to depart.
“Will you not come back to Gracechurch Street with us for some refreshment?” that gentleman asked.
“Not today, I thank you. Business calls.”
“Another time, perhaps. In the meantime, please accept my thanks for your assistance in the successful settlement of this matter.”
“It was my pleasure.” Why could he not simply have said that to Elizabeth? “Your servant, sir.” He bowed and strode away, forcing himself not to take a last look back at Elizabeth.
***
Elizabeth wished she could walk out to recover her spirits; or in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects that must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy's behaviour astonished and vexed her.
“Why, if he did not wish my company,” said she, “did he speak to me at all?”
Mr. Darcy's Letter Page 16