by Nicky Roth
His bride... - Had it not been for the several times Elizabeth and he had stepped onto each other's feet, he would have had to ask her to pinch him, just to make certain that he wasn't still dreaming. He was going to be married. It was a bit crazy, for sure, since it was not as if they knew each other for all that long, and even that was a bit of a stretch of the truth. It had barely been a month since they had first met. But seriously, did that really matter?
Many, no doubt, would say yes, but come on, who could guarantee that one was better off after a five-year engagement? Oddly enough Aunty Catherine seemed to agree. For once in her life. She normally would do honour to her middle-name: Mary, Mary quite contrary...
So, it appeared as if he had long since been dubbed a hopeless case when it came to marrying and having a family, prompting in the unexpected euphoria. Shoot, he would never hear the end of it, once Fitz got wind of that one.
'Ouch!'
'Sorry.'
'No probs.'
The dance went on sheer endlessly, as if it was played in a loop. Okay, a bit of practice was obviously necessary, and not just for him but for many other couples, but come on three frickin' hours? And they hadn't even gotten past a simple two-step, which they had learned first, and how to waltz.
'And now twirl around...' the dance mistress prompted for the umpteenth time, seemingly stifling a yawn.
She was a young woman whose dark-circled eyes could not even be hidden by the generous amount of makeup she'd put on. No need guessing who had gone on a long night out there. Casting a glance at Lizzy, he could not help smiling, and proudly so. Though they had not gotten much sleep either, she looked as fresh and blooming as always, her cheeks tinted with a healthy blush, her eyes bright and not the slightest trace of tiredness on her features. How he himself looked he wasn't quite sure of for admittedly he had been quite pissed before he had fallen asleep on the spot giving his cousin the perfect opportunity to pose him in the most humiliating way humanly possible. Yeah well, in the end, it had been a success, but at the time? Nope.
Well, everyone presumably knows instances like this, right? Going for a nice cup of coffee sitting out on the terrace on the first date and all those lovely pigeons to feed... - Until one crapped onto one's head that was. Then they weren't so lovely anymore. Seriously, Darcy was quite sure this never happened once a couple had been together for any length of time and when the partner would know that one wasn't a complete dolt. No, it had to be on the first date to make it so wonderfully awkward and perhaps end what hadn't even started. Hm, perhaps that was its very purpose. To test one's fortitude. Cosmic justice and all this shite. In effect it wasn't any fairer than the English courts... - Oh, break time!
Waiting until most of the people had filed out of the room to refresh and then go to lunch, Elizabeth and he were the last to leave the large room and step into the comparatively dark entrance hall. Did he imagine it, or did the two figures approaching them look oddly familiar?
'Lizzy? Now really!'
No, he had not imagined it. There was no mistaking Mrs Bennet's voice, especially not when she was in a state of excitement as she obviously was right now.
'Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?'
'We've come for your wedding, dummy! Now to get married without your parents knowing. Shame on you!' Fanny carried on.
Behind his wife, Mr Bennet only shrugged his shoulders apologetically as if to say: “I would have told her that Lizzy isn't getting married if she'd let me put in a word or two edgewise during our way here...”
'It was very fortunate that William called us to tell us as soon as he had found out what's going on so we could leave straight away. And thank goodness it's Saturday and the girls are at home and Kitty and Lydia immediately volunteered to take care of the milking and feeding, so I bundled up your father and here we are now. When is the ceremony to take place? Don't tell me we are too late already!'
'Mum...'
'Oh, I knew it! My first daughter married and I have missed the wedding! The M25 was packed, I tell you. Motorway? More like giant car park! But why didn't you want us to be there? It is very hurtful, you know?'
'Mama...'
'But I won't be ungracious. No, let me congratulate you, despite all. I will not hold it against you. Though it was so very inconsiderate. I should be very cross with you, I should! To go visit Jane and then sneak off here. I hope you wore a nice dress. I have no opinion of people who are getting married in jeans and a T-shirt.'
At last Fanny Bennet stopped speaking, gasping for air.
'Mum, please, we haven't gotten married yet.'
'Not? Oh, thank goodness! And when is the ceremony to take place?'
Right, perhaps he was a bit old-fashioned there, but perhaps now was the right moment to take Mr Bennet to somewhere quiet and ask for his daughter's hand. Just to be proper.
'I am so sorry about my wife and her antics. Alas, she is very excitable. I swear, had I had any notion about what was going on, I would have hidden her keys, papers, whatever instead of handing her mine when she couldn't find hers. I thought someone had an accident or something and then out of the blue, she started with Lizzy getting married. Well, after she purchased all the baby-things, I probably shouldn't be surprised, but...'
'No need to apologise, Mr Bennet. I... - actually wanted to ask for Lizzy's hand.'
'Her hand? Why?'
'In marriage, Sir.'
'Only the hand? You are an odd young man. If my Lizzy is willing to part with it, fine. It's completely up to her. I, for my part, would not love her any less with just one hand, but I perhaps should ask you to take her left. You know, for practical reasons.'
'To be honest, I'd prefer Lizzy attached to it.'
'Ah, but why did you not say so? So, you want to marry my daughter?'
'I just said so, Mr Bennet.'
'No, you said you wanted to marry her hand.'
'Right...'
'Does she know you want to marry her?'
'She's accepted my proposal, so yes, she does.'
'Then what am I to say to it? She's all grown up and you seem as decent a fellow as any I have come across. You either make her happy or cry, just as any other man would. Just let me warn you, I might not look it, but I am an extremely good shot and English prisons are not all that bad from what I've heard.'
'Eh, no.'
'So you've got some experience then?'
Okay, Darcy could either lie or tell the embarrassing truth... - He was not a good liar.
'Not all that much. A few weeks back I forgot my keys and tried to climb up the water spout at Netherfield and, of course, someone saw me thought I was a burglar and called the police who then arrested me. I shared the cell with one of their own, so at least I was in good company. The worst bit was the breakfast - baked beans on toast.'
'I thought torture was prohibited in this country,' Tom Bennet grinned.
'Yeah, well, it has become more subtle, but that's it. No more rack or iron maiden, you know the more flashy stuff one can show of with. No, nowadays it's the food that brings one to one's knees and makes one confess to any crime the imagination can come up with under such circumstances in the hopes it'll all go away. And I dare say that are actually quite a few.'
'And what did you come up with?'
'Oh, the same old. Locked my nephews in the tower and then had them killed...'
'Ah, and there I thought it would be something serious.'
'Na. And besides, the evidence was so thin that they had to acquit me anyway.'
'Good. I am glad to hear it. So, when do you intend to marry my darling girl? - Oh, and whenever it is, can you please convince your friend, if he has any thoughts of that kind, that it would be most convenient if he and Jane would get married the same day?'
'We had agreed on the 6th of January.'
'Okay, good. That sounds reasonable. Long enough to make preparations, short enough to prevent my wife from overdoing things.'
'Actually, there is my a
unt to consider as well. She is surprisingly keen on seeing me married and Mrs Bennet and her combined...'
'Oh my goodness, don't say it! The mere thought is dreadful enough. Your aunt is the proprietor of Rosings, isn't she? I think my cousin said something along those lines.'
'Yes.'
'Then let's hurry back inside before they have a chance to meet!'
But sure enough, it was too late. There his aunt stood, chatting merrily with Mrs Bennet, while Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.
'But she can't have a yellow bouquet, that's for sure!' Lady Catherine said with determination. 'It's such a vulgar colour. Only orange is worse when it comes to flowers.'
'And white is just too colourless,' Mrs Bennet threw in.
'Quite so. And naturally, we cannot have a meal under five courses.'
'But of course. What would you say to smoked salmon as a starter? Or chicken-liver pate? Or perhaps we could offer both and have the guests choose?'
'That is a very good idea. Perhaps someone doesn't eat fish and then it would be quite embarrassing to not be able to offer an alternative. - Oh, and we have to offer something vegetarian as well.'
'Very true! What about vegans? I don't know any in our family, but one has to be considerate.'
Oh, shoot! They were doomed, for sure. Better not mention that someone might require the food to be halal, or gluten-free...
'Mr Darcy, if it were me, I would take flight right now.'
'Not without Lizzy.'
'Fair enough. I'll distract them for as long as I can and you hurry to Gretna Green asap.'
It did start to sound tempting, though, of course, nowadays one didn't just pop up there to get married over the anvil. Nope, paperwork was obligatory, love was optional.
'Ah, there you are, Fitzwilliam!'
Okay, too late for that anyway. Again!
'We have come up with a couple of ideas for your wedding, nephew. Now, what do you say, the ceremony takes place here and...'
'Absolutely not!'
'But why not? I have a chef at hand and the rooms here are nice and spacious, in short, it's the ideal setting.'
'May I remind you, that I, too, have a chef at hand? Two even, and a couple of part-timers. A hotel that has pretty much the same capacity than Rosings, plus the private bedrooms in the main house and a few holiday homes? That Pemberley has a much larger ballroom and a chapel on site?'
'What, that dingy old building?'
'What's wrong with a medieval chapel?'
'It's on the other side of the park. I can't remember that it was ever used during your mother's lifetime. I would not even know about it, had she not dragged me around the whole of the estate until I was quite sick of seeing so many woods and lawns and gardens.'
One thing was sure, Lizzy would not get sick of her surroundings and neither would he. Ever!
But okay, his aunt did have a point after all. The chapel had not been in use since Edwardian times at least and he had actually almost forgotten about it until Lady Catherine had raised the question where they would be married.
It lay tucked away at the far end of his lands amidst the woods, pretty much only accessible by a narrow and overgrown footpath or a small driveway that didn't really deserve the name, truth be told. It once had been the church of a small village that had been devastated during the great plague. Not exactly the most cheerful part of English history for sure, but then again, what was? Thinking of it, life always seems to have been rather miserable. Right, that was perhaps a bit harsh. Yet, historians seemed to have a knack for making it appear so.
Sod love and kindness. - War? Lots to write about. Especially how many people perished in battle and how many more due to minor injuries that got infected or even got killed by something as unspectacular as dysentery while on campaign, like Henry V for example. Way to go for such a great king like him and after winning the battle of Agincourt.
Plague? Also good stuff. The more to die the merrier.
Intrigue? Even better. Come on, who didn't like to read about the decadence and perfidy of the Borgia's or Medici even today? Or watch it on telly, more like.
And at any rate, not much had changed. Put a nice murder on the front-page of any given tabloid and the paper would sell five times as well as when the headlines had been dedicated to the opening of parliament. That's why no-one ever really read The Times. Boring stuff that.
'Fitzwilliam, I have asked you something!'
'Excuse me, I was wondering how long it'll take to get the chapel into pristine condition...'
'I thought we had agreed on you not getting married there. What do you say to braised lamb shanks? And pink roses, perhaps?'
'Lamb shanks sound nice, the roses not so much. I mean, do you mean as a side or desert? Or...?'
'Not to eat, of course. For decoration!'
'Lamb shanks for decoration?' Mr Bennet threw in before Darcy could answer, sporting an innocent expression.
'Don't play stupid, Thomas!'
'I am not. One can eat roses. There is rose sugar, I've had rose ice-cream once, and rose-tea and I've read about rose biscuits as well. However, I've never heard of lamb shanks being used for decorative purposes, perhaps save for the exception of a butcher's shop display. Though thinking about it, it would actually make the whole thing an interestingly unique one.'
Aunt Catherine's face lit up. Not a good sign. Not in this instant at any rate. In his mind Darcy already pictured rows of steaming braised lamb shanks lining the hallways of Pemberley...
'That's it! Even though the wedding will be in winter, we could give it a flower theme.'
Yeah, right! That made sense. Marry in winter, but make it look like summer. Hm, why not hold the wedding in July and organise some fake snow?
'Where's Lizzy?'
'Oh, I don't know. Is she not here?'
'Unless she can make herself invisible, then not, Fanny,' Mr Bennett remarked dryly.
'Presumably taking some lunch, Fitzwilliam,' his aunt came up with the most likely solution.
Stupid that he hadn't thought about that himself. Gently shoving his soon to be father in law towards the dining room, he gazed around and fortunately found her sitting wedged between both his cousins.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire...
Chapter 42:
Better be prepared
'Ah, Elizabeth, dear, there you are!' Lady Catherine boomed, strutting towards her and her mother, who was already and unsurprisingly, planning her wedding, one idea following the other like a waterfall of words or rather severe verbal diarrhoea.
Not a minute later, and Mrs Bennet and Lady Catherine, after what hardly could be described as an introduction, were both deeply engrossed in the conversation barely paying her, the bride, any heed.
Apparently, this wedding-planning was a highly contagious disease...
Several times Elizabeth tried to put an end to the never-ending ideas sprouting from a moment of obvious madness, but to no avail. It was Fitz, who managed to interrupt them if only for a short moment, to ask where Darcy and Elizabeth were since lunch was about to be served.
'I guess you have heard the news already, Richard, your cousin is getting married,' Lady Catherine asked off-handedly before turning towards Fanny Bennet again.
'Anne?'
'No, Fitzwilliam, of course,' his aunt reprimanded in a manner that indicated that in this instance she thought him a bit daft. 'Anne is far too sensible to marry. She doesn't need a man to tell her what to do and what not.'
'Eh, no,' the colonel stammered, utterly taken aback at first, before his face broke into a wide grin. 'Who would have thought my little scheme would be this successful? I'm pretty proud of myself.'
'What are you talking about, Richard? You do know you sound quite nonsensical, don't you?'
Lady Catherine had turned around again, with an expression so irritated, it would make most people cower before her. Not her nephew, though.
'Oh, never mind, aunty,' Fitz replied c
heerfully. 'Are you coming for lunch, Elizabeth? Where is Darcy?'
'He went outside, I believe.'
And in answer to his first question, she simply turned to follow him seeing that both her mother and her groom's aunt were already back to discussing her wedding as if no interruption had ever taken place – and as if there was no tomorrow.
Elizabeth would have to put her foot down eventually, but for the moment, there was little she could do. These two had to be tackled one at a time.
'So, what do you say to the little display I left in your room for you last night?'
'It wasn't all that original. And actually, it was quite mean.'
'Okay, perhaps... - But you try and come up with something better when in a hurry. I mean, think of all the logistics I had to manage. Drag my cousin up the stairs, strip him, which was quite a bit of work, for at the time he was still half conscious, then tie him up, gather all your clothes together, hide the key - which is something I'd rather not think about. Anyway, I hope it wasn't too much of a disappointment. I mean, in comparison to my...'
'I'd rather not know!'
'Okay, yes, TMFI. And besides, it would be unfair to brag about my substantial, quite large actually... - Hi, Anne! Have you heard, Darcy is getting married?'
'Yes, I have. Ever since my mother came back from Westerham she's been talking of nothing else. Do you remember the name of the website that sold restraining jackets? I sure as hell need one sooner or later before I am tempted to commit murder. You know, I would not mind marrying per se, but just thinking of my mother preparing for my wedding, makes me think twice.'
Okay, that Elizabeth could understand. Thoroughly!
At the time of accepting Darcy, she had been too overjoyed to think any further, or anything really, apart from that they would be man and wife and very happy. She was very sure of that. Determined even. - But then her mother had appeared like a genie from a bottle and poof, reality had struck.