What does Fitzwilliam expect of me? Will I be capable of running our household in accordance with his perfectionist standards? And the estate in Northumberland is so very, very far from home. Silly goose! Northumbrella shall soon be my home. Oh, why does it feel as if I am leaving everything comfortable and familiar for a life full of the unknown? This must be what is meant by cold feet. And what of our wedding night? Silly girl! Every marriage begins with a time of adjustment to the sudden intimacy of living with a spouse, and Fitzwilliam and I will have a week here together at Pemberley before departing on the bridal tour with Anna and Mary. Oh, Jane! Are you having similar trepidations about your own future? I need to discuss these anxieties with you before we part. Will you and I even have such an opportunity for private conversation before the wedding?
Jane desperately wished for privacy as well. She and the Colonel had managed to escape, unnoticed, for a stroll in Pemberley’s garden. Miss Bennet, however, did not have any qualms about the wedding night or spending a lifetime with the fine-looking man walking arm-in-arm with her. Jane very much looked forward to becoming Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam, in every way, and wished he would kiss her then and there despite the risk of being discovered. By doing so in the next moment, Colonel Stud-muffin proved once again he was incredibly proficient at kissing, utterly irresistible, and equally desirous of their upcoming union.
Elizabeth’s fiancé, banished from the unbridled goings-on of the bridal entourage, impatiently awaited the chance to see her again. Darcy knew from the expression on his beloved’s face before fussing females engulfed her that she was overwhelmed, and he was fraught with the need to comfort her … and to also give an explanation about the pony that would undoubtedly be accompanying her family back to Longbourn.
Lady Anne descended the main staircase and caught sight of her son as he paced and twisted his signet ring. She moved to his side and stilled his nervous actions with a gentle touch on his arm. “Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and her family are resting now after their journey. You will see her at dinner and may even find an opportunity to steal your bride away for a few moments afterward. It is not unusual, you know, for both brides and grooms to be nervous before their wedding. At least you both have the advantage of knowing, without a doubt, you love one another. That is rare at the onset, and affection often only develops after a couple has been wed for years. Be assured this uneasiness you are experiencing is normal on the eve of your marriage.”
“You misunderstand my restlessness, Mother. I have not the slightest hesitation as regards my future happiness with Elizabeth. My concern right now is solely for her enjoyment of tomorrow’s events. I wish everything to be absolutely perfect.”
Lady Anne sighed. “Of course you do, my meticulous son. I guarantee it shall not be the case, neither during the day of your wedding nor through the course of your lives together. Relax and realize it will not be the end of the world if you have a speck of lint on your coat, a blemish on your face, or a hair out of place.”
Without thought, Darcy brushed at his lapel, checked his appearance in the hallway mirror, and ran a hand through his impeccably arranged curls. His mother laughed at his predictable actions, and he sheepishly glanced at her. “Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth will not think less of you should you mumble, jumble, or fumble your way through the vows tomorrow; and in the grand scheme of things, such stumbles are inconsequential. We all make mistakes; and you must learn to not only take lessons from them but to laugh at yourself as well. You are marrying for love, and that is all you need to remember. Lighten up, dear, and enjoy life.”
“I am learning, Mother, with Elizabeth’s help. What do I not owe her? She taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By her I was enlightened on the subject of lightening up; and although I may not be ready to shrug off being a bumbling, barbaric buffoon, I am making progress.”
Dinner was served in the early hours that evening so everyone would have a good night’s sleep, and the Bennet children were permitted to be at the table with the adults. Robert was seated next to his mother so she could help cut his meat and clamp her hand over his mouth if he started to blurt something inappropriate. The little boy was behaving well but did manage to upset his cup of milk, which caused his eyes to well up and his lower lip to jut out. Before the child could begin to cry, Fitzwilliam Darcy was quick to intervene. “That is quite all right, poppet. Remember, there is no point in crying over spilt milk. In fact, I am sure Cato cries for spilt milk; and you simply must tell me now what mischief the Philosofur has gotten into since last I saw him.”
The boy brightened immediately and happily launched into alarmingly detailed descriptions of the dead mouse Cato had proudly presented to their visiting minister and the impressive furball the kitten had hacked up for Mary’s genteel school friends. Robert then gave an account of the time the little cat had jumped onto their dining room table, in the middle of the second course, the evening surly Sir Lee King was a dinner guest. The poppet was about to give an account of what happened when Lizzy’s former roommates from St. Trinnean’s Seminary for Young Ladies visited recently when Mr. Bennet interjected, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.”
The two mothers of the three brides had been chatting about their yearning for grandchildren, as mothers of a certain age often do, and had totally missed Robert’s eloquent elucidation. “Lady Anne, do you suppose by this time next year one of us might be a grandmother?”
“Yes, I do hope to hear the pitter-patter of little feet again before long. But, Mrs. Bennet, we are practically family now. So, if you please, Anne will do just fine.”
“Thank you. My name is Frances, but I prefer to be called Franny or Fanny. Actually, I wish for someone to call me Grandmama. Oh, that would sound very sweet, would it not, Lady Anne?”
“My dear Fanny, I have asked you to drop my title. Please, just refer to me as Anne.”
“Thank you. I am honoured. In fact, I will be so proud tomorrow that I shall practically be made of honour. Tell me, Anne, are you bringing extra handkerchiefs? I am sure I shall shed more than a few tears of happiness.”
From across the table and several seats down Mr. Bennet remarked, “Yes, my dear, it will most assuredly be a day for plenty of eye dew, although I believe the correct response is ‘I will.’”
His wife sighed and looked heavenward. “You see what I have had to endure these many long years? All the same, I cannot complain, as there has been much more laughter than tears. Follies and nonsense, whims, and inconsistencies do divert me, I own; and I laugh at them whenever I can. Nevertheless, I know I shall certainly weep at the ceremony. Oh Anne, we are both losing two very dear children on the morrow.”
“Not at all, Fanny. You must look upon the event as gaining two sons. The Darcy family will definitely benefit from the additions of Ellis and your lovely Elizabeth. Goodness, I now feel very foolish about losing consciousness the night of the ball. Elizabeth and Jane are exquisite young women, and you have done a superb job rearing your charming family.” Lady Anne smiled fondly at the little boy at Mrs. Bennet’s side.
Robert struggled with his fork, knife, and some rather recalcitrant peas while he listened to his mother’s conversation. “Mama, what is conshush-nuss?”
Before Mrs. Bennet could open her mouth to reply, from across the table Lady Catherine de Bourgh responded, “Consciousness, my dear little bug, is that annoying period between one’s doses of medicinal sherry.”
Fanny Bennet beamed with pride that her son, for once, had not been the one to come out with something rather inappropriate. She was, however, sympathetic to her friend’s mortified look.
“Never mind, Anne. Your sister is obviously your own family’s joker and is jest having fun with her-elations. Oh, dear! I assure you I am not usually one for wordplay, but lately I cannot seem to help myself. My puns may be sleep-inducing, but I keep laudanum anyway.”
When Lady Anne indicated it was time for the ladies to remove
to the drawing room, her son also excused himself from the table and the men’s company. Fitzwilliam Darcy had had quite enough deprivation for one day and was determined to steal away with his fiancée for a few moments. His long strides easily caught up with her in the hall before she entered the room with the women. Mrs. Bennet was on her way upstairs to tuck in her children before she went to the drawing room; and although she glimpsed the couple in the hallway, she turned a blind eye to whatever the two had planned for their final night of bachelorhood and maidenhood. Darcy, drawing near, said to his bride, “Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of taking a walk with your husband-to-be?” She smiled but made no answer; and he repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.
“Oh,” said she, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. Yes, Mr. Darcy, I would very much like to seize … whatever it was you wanted me to seize.”
Good God! Darcy looked at her face and tried to determine if she was brazen or absent-minded, but he could not read her expression. You are not the only one affected, Lizzy. This time tomorrow night I will be your husband, and you will finally be … my wife! I am, as Mother described, beside myself. “Please seize my arm then, Miss Elizabeth, and accompany me to the shrubbery.”
Pelisse, greatcoat, gloves, and hats were donned; and they headed for the garden. As they strolled along the path, Darcy said, “Thank you once again, my dear, for agreeing to hold the ceremony here. It means a great deal to my family and me to be away from the prying eyes of society. Had we married in London from the Fitzwilliam and Darcy parish church near Mayfair, St. George’s would have been packed with curious members of the ton; and our special day would have been more of a circus than Astley’s Amphitheatre.”
“I cannot imagine a more lovely location for our wedding, sir.”
Darcy smiled with delight and asked, “So, what think you of Pemberley at this time of year, Elizabeth?”
“Your estate is equally impressive inside and outside, as is Pemberley’s heir. It is certainly as handsome as I remember, Fitzwilliam, but perhaps not as green as during summer. And there is not now that close, hot, heavy, sultry, damp, clinging feeling I recall being present previously.”
“You will never allow me to live that down, will you, minx? But come closer, my darling, and discover just how steamy conditions can be in Derbyshire even during late autumn.”
That evening the shades of Pemberley were very useful, not for shelter from the sun but for providing cover from prying eyes. After the embrace and kiss that did much to both slake and increase their hunger and thirst for one another, the gentleman hesitantly said, “Elizabeth, I could not help but notice your unease earlier this afternoon. Are you nervous about the ceremony, the celebration, or perchance apprehensive about our wedding night?”
“I admit I am, or was. Yet every moment spent with you finds me less and less worried and more … impatient.”
“Lizzy, tomorrow our vows will be made official. Even so, please allow me now to assure you I will always love, comfort, honour, and cherish you. And I will forever be faithful.”
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. And I believe you should seal such a fervent commitment with a fervent kiss.” Most of Elizabeth Bennet’s anxieties were soon vanquished and vanished. She thought the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to be nervous or apprehensive on the eve of her wedding. As the engaged couple disengaged and strolled back to the house, she said, “It was very considerate of you, sir, to provide fireworks again for my first night at Pemberley. That kiss was another truly extraordinarily breathtaking experience, was it not?”
For his part, Darcy looked forward to the following night’s extraordinarily breathtaking experience. Like watching fireworks, he had high hopes for interesting shapes, lots of surprises, and banging. An uplifting display could be quite stimulating, but he worried about short fuses and explosive bursts. Good God, I must return to the house before I combust!
“Fitzwilliam? Do you not agree, sir?” When he made no answer, she repeated the question, with some surprise at his silence.
“Oh,” said he, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. But yes, my love, I quite agree with whatever it was you said.”
Chapter V
Something Old, Something New,
and an ‘Omen Pigeon or Two
The night before the wedding, the gentlemen deprived themselves of the pleasure of the ladies’ company by secreting themselves away in the library to imbibe and play cards. Nevertheless, giggles, shrieks of laughter, and squeals of delight from the drawing room still occasionally reached their ears and disturbed their concentration.
“Whatever can they be discussing with such hilarity?” Ellis Fleming distractedly sorted through the cards he had been dealt and took a sip of his drink. The young man was still quite in awe of his future father-in-law and formidable uncle-in-law, the Earl of Matlock. Outward calm disguised Fleming’s case of nerves, and a third helpful snifter of excellent brandy increasingly caused a shift from tension to a feeling of euphoria.
“No doubt love, romance, and all things gooshy, as my son, Robert, would say,” Mr. Bennet replied and flicked a card onto the table. “I assure you, gentlemen, any hearts and diamonds being talked of in that other room bear little resemblance whatsoever to the ones being played here. Your turn, Mr. Bingley.”
“I think … ,” but Bingley’s words were drowned out by gales of laughter from down the hall.
Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and said, “Have they not heard Shakespeare’s line ‘Speak low, if you speak love’? Your turn, Bingley. Pay attention, man. Thunder and turf! I swear you are only playing with half a deck.”
“Sorry. I am worried about my sister. Anyone can tell the three marriages about to take place tomorrow will be very happy ones. However, Caroline and Wickham … ” Bingley shook his head as his queen of hearts was trumped by Mr. Gardiner’s ace, and he felt his sister’s happiness might also have been discarded. “In Lord Byron’s words, ‘Love without passion is dreary; passion without love is horrific.’ I am more than a little uneasy and fearful of Caroline’s future with Wickham. As you well know, his conduct has not always been quite right.”
“Well, Bingley, I suggest you get the upper hand and deal with the black-heart scoundrel. Deck him, if you must; or club the knave with a spade if that would suit you better.” The Colonel smirked as he played his trump card.
The soldier’s words did nothing to comfort Bingley, but George Darcy’s suited him better. “They will be here tomorrow, and you can judge for yourself. But young Wickham would not have tried to elope with your sister if he had not a real regard for her. I hope and trust they will yet be happy, and his consenting to marry her is a proof he has come to a right way of thinking. They will settle so quietly and live in so rational a manner as may in time make their past imprudence forgotten, and I will ensure they live free from hardship while he serves as my steward after his father retires next month.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Bingley with a sigh. “I do hope any affection Wickham feels for Caroline proves to be more than just a passion interest.”
The senior Darcy glanced at his son, who stood at a window. Pemberley’s heir stared into the night and absently stroked the head of one of his foxhounds. “Fitzwilliam, come and have another drink. It is normal to be a nervous groom, but do stop fretting and join us. Married life will not be quite so bad, you know.”
James Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Wentletrap, said, “Yes, consider, at least, the pleasurable aspects of the marriage bed and the children you will soon beget.” He suddenly remembered the lady’s father and uncle were in the room and mum
bled, “Sorry, Bennet, Gardiner.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy began to pace. “I have no hesitation whatsoever in regard to marrying Miss Elizabeth. Life would be unbearable without her, and the money spent for the special license is the best investment I have ever made. I just wish everything to be perfect tomorrow, for her sake.”
“Perfection is very hard to attain, young man.” Mr. Gardiner gestured for a footman to pour the fretful fellow a drink. “Lizzy has always been an optimistic girl, and she will focus on the positive aspects of the ceremony and celebration rather than on any negative ones. Relax and enjoy yourself tonight.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. “I intend to have a few more drinks to steady my nerves, win a few more hands of cards, and then shuffle off to retire early. I want to be well rested and refreshed tomorrow, as it is the day for which I have been waiting these long weeks.”
Fleming, not yet quite in his cups but certainly half-sprung by that time, said, “I thought the date soldiers waited for was March 4th.”
“Ah, my friend, you forget I shall be resigning my commission directly after the honeymoon. As stated in Deuteronomy 24:5, ‘When a man hath taken a new wife, he shall not go out to war, neither shall he be charged with any business: (but) he shall be free at home one year, and shall cheer up his wife which he hath taken.’ It was time for me to resign anyway. I was getting fed up with army food. Tomorrow, however, I plan to be a desserter … a soldier who stuffs himself with wedding cake. Quite seriously though, gentlemen, I have mixed feelings about deserting my brothers in arms during this war against Boney. Be that as it may, I very much look forward to the challenge of becoming an astute estate owner.” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at the man who would soon be his father-in-law and added, “Tomorrow I will be united with a member of a pun-loving family, and I must hone my skill in the use of new weapons. My arsenal will soon only consist of weapons for a literary war, such as the witty zinger and the pithy barb. Gentlemen, the pun is here to slay.”
Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge Page 29