An Arranged Marriage

by Jan Hahn

  "How did you know to find me here?"

  "I did not. I have combed those woods behind us for a good half-hour, looking for you. This place was my final quest before returning to Longbourn. Are you cold? Shall I give you my coat?"

  I shook my head. "I am fine, William. Do not worry so. After several hours of Mamá's endless fluttering and Mrs. Philips' proverbs, I was desperate to find a peaceful spot."

  "I see you have picked flowers for your father."

  "Yes, and I told him of Jane's wedding. Oh, how I wish he could be here."

  "As do I." He put his arm around me and held me close. "Have you told him of our news?"

  "Not yet," I said softly, and then placed my hand upon the gravestone. "Papá, come next October, Mr. Darcy and I shall make you a grandfather."

  "Surely, he would want a granddaughter the image of you."

  "I am not so certain of that. After spending his life amongst scads of women, my father might now prefer the addition of a man-child to his family."

  "Either way, as long as the babe looks like you, I shall be happy."

  "A short, scrawny boy will not do, William. Let us hope that any son we have will inherit your good looks and my excellent temper." I spoke cheekily, took his hand and placed it upon my stomach. "I fear I shall not be slim for long. I hope I can hide it until after Jane's wedding."

  "So you have told neither your mother nor sisters?"

  I shook my head. "It shall be our secret for now, yours, mine and my father's."

  He smiled and, kissing my nose, he hugged me even closer. "And if it is a boy, shall we name him for your father and mine?"

  "I would love that, William."

  "Are you ready to leave, my love? You should not sit on damp ground too long and the sun is beginning to set."

  I nodded and allowed him to help me rise. I ran my hand over my father's stone once more and stooped to place a kiss upon it, but I did not cry again. Instead, I tucked my hand in my husband's arm and allowed him to lead me down the hill, leaning upon him for my support.

  ~ * ~

  A week after the wedding, we traveled from Netherfield to London. Arriving a bit early for the season but having much to do to insure Georgiana's debut, it was only practical that we do so. In spite of her misgivings and nerves, she made a lovely appearance upon society and just as the good colonel had predicted, young men lined up to not only dance with her, but to call upon her from then on. I spent my days advising her on pertinent topics of conversation, serving as chaperone and consoling my husband's distraught nerves at the number of beaus now filling our townhouse. More and more I hoped our child would be a boy, for if William was this particular about his sister, how would his daughter ever survive?

  Surprisingly, I made it through the four months of balls and parties without physically showing that I was with child until near the close of the season, mainly because I suffered nausea from morning till night and gained little weight. Fiona proved invaluable, for she not only could commiserate with my plight, but she knew several old Scottish remedies that relieved my suffering for short periods. By the time we returned to Pemberley in July, my sickness vanished as quickly as it appeared, and I soon began to put on weight and achieve that glow that surrounds expectant mothers.

  My confinement proceeded without incident and our first son was born on October 28th at four o'clock in the morning, barely more than a year after Mr. Darcy and I had entered into our arranged marriage. I elected to nurse him myself rather than secure the services of a wet nurse and I gloried in motherhood, marveling daily that this beautiful little person had come into my life. He was the image of his father and I laughed often, seeing exactly how William would have looked as a babe. When his tiny brows knit together in a frown, I could see a miniature Mr. Darcy tuning up to holler, and when I coaxed him into a smile, I delighted in a glimpse of those same dimples as they lit up his little face.

  Fiona surprised us six months later by announcing she was leaving Pemberley's service. It seemed that one of Mr. Darcy's tenants, a Mr. Martin MacAdams, had courted her right beneath our noses and she at last agreed to marry him. I hated to see her leave, for I had grown to rely upon her excellent services, but at the same time I rejoiced to see her find someone who loved her and Willie and would give them a home of their own. We attended their wedding in the small village church and I smiled when Fiona entered, wearing the lace-trimmed shawl I had given her the year before at Christmastide.

  That next summer, news came from Longbourn that Kitty was to marry the local curate, Mr. James Morris. She had spent much time at Netherfield and under Jane's gentle tutelage, she had matured into a quieter, dignified young woman. Mamá was upset at first for she still desired a more advantageous match for her; but with Jane and Mr. Bingley's influence, she was soon made to see the wisdom of the match, for the young man was truly in love with Kitty and she with him.

  I wish I could say that Mary made a like marriage, but it was not to be. Instead, once she remained the only daughter at Longbourn, she began to write. Like water bubbling forth from a spring, words poured from her pen and upon sending them to my aunt in town for her enjoyment, Mr. Gardiner was actually able to find a London editor who wished to publish her stories. I confess I was speechless after reading the first edition, for I fully expected a spinsterish version of Fordyce's Sermons aimed at warning young women of the perils of too many balls, unchecked flirting, and the dangers of the opposite sex. Instead, Mary wrote witty, satiric romances based on thinly veiled characterizations of my mother and younger sisters, and she oftentimes fashioned a heroine who appeared to be a composite of Jane and myself. The books became so popular she eventually took a house in London where she enjoyed the company of many cultured and erudite persons of the arts. I wonder that Papá did not turn over in his grave to see such an unexpected change in his quietest of daughters.

  Lydia, as expected, lived the sort of life all of us feared she would. Mr. Wickham's enchantment with her soon evaporated and we heard rumours of his seeking excitement elsewhere. She, however, continued to enjoy the advantages of being a married woman and carved out an existence among military society in Newcastle, enjoying the favour and attention of officers and their wives because of her effervescent personality. Jane and I were both asked for frequent monetary assistance and we, of course, helped our youngest sister whenever we could.

  Jane and Mr. Bingley left Hertfordshire two years after their marriage and bought a house in a neighbouring county near Derbyshire, a mere thirty miles from Pemberley. This, of course, pleased my sister and me excessively and we enjoyed raising our families together. Jane gave birth to two daughters in quick succession and I am happy to say they not only inherited their mother's pretty blonde curls, but their father's sunny disposition as well.

  As for Georgiana, it was evident she was to marry someone from our own neighbourhood in Derbyshire: Mr. Darnley's eldest son. Of all the young men paying her attentions, he impressed Mr. Darcy as the only one qualified to be her husband. He asked and was granted permission to court her and did so for some length of time. Georgiana seemed to care for him - when questioned, she said she did not find him unattractive - but after several months when he asked for her hand, she turned him down. My husband and I both were surprised at this turn of events, but as William said, "She is still very young, not quite one and twenty."

  At that time, I had given birth to my second son some two months before and the doctor had just granted me permission to walk in the gardens at Pemberley. The day after Mr. Darnley's refusal, I came upon my sister-in-law sitting on a bench among the rhododendrons. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings, a far-away look in her eyes, a wistful expression playing about her countenance.

  "Georgiana, may I intrude upon your idyll? I hope you do not grow melancholy since your decision regarding Mr. Darnley."

  She looked up quickly and returned to the present. "Of course you may join me, Elizabeth, and no, although I hated to hurt the gentleman's feelings
, I do not regret what I have done."

  Her presence of mind impressed me. Indeed, Georgiana's growth into a mature, self-assured young woman pleased me greatly. I could not help but hope that my influence had helped this to come about.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  "Wonderful, now that I am allowed out of doors."

  "It must be difficult for you to be confined, loving to walk as much as you do. I recall a day when Richard and I came upon you on that bench hidden away over there at the edge of the lawn. You were reading a letter. I believe it was not long after you and William married and only a few days before the Harvest Ball."

  "Mmm, I think you are correct, and I recall that letter being very important to me."

  "You seem so much happier now than you were those first months of your marriage."

  "I am, but why should I not be with two fine sons and the love of your brother?"

  Georgiana smiled and looked away. "I am glad you and William made a love match, but your example makes it difficult for me to even think of marriage."

  "Why, whatever causes you to say that?"

  "I look upon your marriage as ideal, Elizabeth. I want the same for myself."

  "My dear, your brother and I do not live perfect lives. You are well aware we often disagree and even argue."

  "Yes, but it never lasts for long. You may quarrel one day, but by the next morning, all is made right. I desire that kind of union."

  "Well, you shall have it," I said, emphatically. "Mr. Darnley may not be the right man for you, but you are still very young, Georgiana. There will be other men to choose from. In truth, once word gets out that you have refused him, I am certain a steady stream of gentlemen callers will plague your brother all over again."

  She frowned and looking away, remained silent for a while. I rose and began to snip a bouquet of marguerites and daisies, placing them in the basket I carried on my arm. It was not long before she took the basket from me, offering to carry it while I made the cuttings.

  "Elizabeth, has Wills heard from Richard lately? It seems as though he has been gone forever. He has not written to me in more than six months. I sometimes fear he has forgotten me."

  I pressed my lips together. I dreaded to relate the news we had received the evening before.

  "Elizabeth?" She walked in front of me so that she could see my expression. "What is it? Has something happened to him?"

  I took her hand and led her back to the bench. "A letter came from Lord Matlock late last evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam is in London, staying at Eden Park."

  "Eden Park!" she exclaimed, her eyes aglow. "He has returned to England at last! It has been four years, Elizabeth. Do you realize he has been out of the country that long?" I nodded and could not help but see that those four years had not diminished Georgiana's feelings for her cousin. I wondered, though, what all had happened to him.

  "I shall go in and write to him immediately, asking him to visit us here at Pemberley," she announced as she rose from the bench and turned in the direction of the house.

  I put my hand on her arm. "Georgiana, a moment, please. There is something you must know."

  "What is it?"

  "The colonel has been injured in the war."

  "Injured! In what way?" she cried, sinking back onto the bench beside me.

  "A sword wound to his leg."

  She made a small cry, much like an animal caught in a snare. "But he will be all right, will he not?"

  "Aye, the Earl said he would survive, but he will walk with a limp the rest of his life."

  Tears formed in her lovely blue eyes and threatened to spill over at any moment. "Oh, my dear Richard. I cannot bear to think of him being hurt. I must go to him. We must all go to him immediately." She jumped up and ran toward the house. "Where is Wills? He must make plans for us to leave this very day!"

  William, of course, made no such plans. He was unwilling to leave our new son and me, and since I was unable to travel yet, a great argument arose between brother and sister. Back and forth they volleyed reasons for and against the trip, but Georgiana would not be dissuaded. Eventually, William gave in to her pleading and agreed she could travel to London, but only if her former companion, Mrs. Annesley, would leave her house in Lambton where she had retired some years ago, and accompany her. Georgiana was such a favourite of the older lady that she was easily persuaded to make the trip. The next day the ladies and their maids, four of Mr. Darcy's most trusted footmen, and his most careful driver transported my sister-in-law to Eden Park. Against her brother's will and truly against any reasoning he put forth, she had insisted she would go.

  As we watched the carriage drive out of the park, William sighed and swore once again. "This stubborn streak in Georgiana is most unattractive. I know not from where it comes!"

  I held my breath to keep from laughing aloud. The two of them grew more alike in temperament each day, but neither of them could see it.

  Our annual Harvest Ball took place at the end of September that year, an event William and I both relished because of the special memories it evoked between us. I was somewhat surprised that Georgiana had not returned by that time, since it still remained her favourite party of the year. As I attempted to read through the lines of her sporadic letters, I could only hope that her relationship with the colonel progressed. It appeared that Richard was in low spirits since his injury had necessitated his retirement from the military. I wondered if he would now consider himself even less qualified to ask for Georgiana's hand or, for that matter, whether he still cared for her in that manner. After all, they had been apart over four years and none of us had seen him during that time. I felt certain my sister-in-law cared deeply for him, else why would she turn down every eligible young man who attempted to court her. Perchance, however, I was playing the romantic and it would not turn out as I hoped after all. William, of course, knew nothing of all this. He was as hopelessly blind as always to his sister's feelings, although he had learned to allow her to express them. We had made some little progress during the years.

  That night at the ball (as we had done every year), Mr. Darcy and I stole away for a few moments, deserting our guests to return to the stable and the haystack just out its back door. A full moon shone once again as though we had ordered it, when William and I dropped upon the mound of hay and he began to kiss me. The years had not diminished the thrill of his touch, nor had I grown immune to the delicious taste of his kisses. If anything, I was more like putty in his hands than ever, for I knew full well the pleasure he could give me and I could see the joy in his eyes when he provoked that response in me that pleaded for more.

  "Can you still recall that night when first we kissed in this spot?" he asked.

  "How can I not?" I raked my hands through his curls.

  "Why did you run from me, Elizabeth? I have always wanted to know."

  I shook my head. "I still do not have an answer, William. Perhaps I wanted to know whether you would come after me, whether you truly wanted me."

  "I was born wanting you. I may not have known it at the time, but I believe I searched for you all of my life."

  Those words and the tender look in his eyes reduced me to a helpless muddle once again and we struggled desperately to contain our passion. After many kisses and close embraces, we rose to return to our guests. He, of course, brushed the hay from my person, but I, in turn, spent no little time in doing the same to his backside, a task I deliberately took time to accomplish.

  Among the numerous surprises I had encountered from my husband since our marriage, his romantic sensibility was one that I never expected. He seemed to recall each and every time we had done something for the first time. Before Mr. Bingley's wedding to Jane at Netherfield, one evening Mr. Darcy had summoned two musicians and asked them to play the very song we had first danced to. The only dancers in the ballroom, he led me through the steps as though we were at a fancy dress ball. I attempted to stifle my laughter but it was impossible when, at the end of th
e number, we caught Caroline and Mrs. Hurst standing in the doorway with shocked, but obviously envious expressions upon their countenances.

  At the townhouse in London, the adjoining door between our chambers stood open permanently. Indeed, it might as well have been removed for it no longer barred either of us from the other. My sleepwalking adventures ceased as quickly as they had appeared, once I spent every night in my husband's bed.

  In a private moment, Mr. Darcy even admitted that the night he surprised me in my bath, he had, indeed, seen me stretch my leg up in the air and run warm water down it. That sight had caused him to stand transfixed, unable to turn away, as he should have done. By the time he made that confession, of course, all I could do was smile, for the shock and anger I felt that night had vanished forever.

  Many evenings when Georgiana was away, after dinner Mr. Darcy would lead me into the billiards room, where he continued to instruct me in the proper way to play the game. I must confess I proved a slow learner and it took much patience and intimate demonstrations before either of us felt I had mastered the game. I never did understand the point of the sport, unless it was to allow lovers the opportunity for close proximity while being tutored.

  In like manner, I had yet to learn the Italian language, and even still required my husband to translate the words of particularly romantic arias in my ear when we attended recitals and concerts. He must have thought me quite thick to make such slow progress in my studies of the foreign tongue, but he never complained, patient soul that he is.

  Upon more occasions than I can remember, when rainstorms struck Pemberley at night William and I would steal away to spend the evening in his old chamber at the end of the hall. I had never allowed Mrs. Reynolds to transform it into a guest room. It still remained our secret haven where we had first allowed fulfillment of our great need and passionate love for each other. So, stealing away from the Harvest Ball to the haystack retreat outside had become a yearly recurrence and, I confess, one that made the entire night that much sweeter.