by Nicky Roth
'By the by, are you and Peter still an item?' Fitz inquired as they sat down at the head table.
With a small shrug Anne de Bourgh replied: 'Friends with benefits, rather. It's the only thing where we're compatible. And unfortunately very much so.'
'Why, unfortunately?' Elizabeth couldn't help asking.
'Because in the end a vibrator would be less troublesome, yet it's missing something very important.'
'Like?' her cousin dug deeper.
'Hands. Damn, that man knows how to rub one's back, I tell you!'
'Anne, you do know that rubbing one's back has sod all to do with what is meant with benefits, right?'
'And you ought to know that there is such a thing as fore- and after play, Fitz.'
Richard Fitzwilliam only shrugged before taking his plate and walking over to the ample buffet that had been served on the other side of the room. By the way, how was it that no-one stared? Okay, most people around were queueing at the buffet. Thank goodness! One humiliation she had been spared.
'Come on, let's go and get something between our teeth as well before the food is gone. You would be amazed at how quickly people can clear the lot. It seems to me as if the word buffet alone induces people to take about five times as much food as they can possibly and reasonably eat during one meal,' Anne said wryly grinning, making Elizabeth laugh while at the same time she had quite elegantly managed to change the subject.
When smiling, Anne de Bourgh was actually really pretty despite her pale complexion and the mousy hair colour.
'Well,' Elizabeth took up the proffered, more harmless topic. 'I remember the one time when Sir Willy, our neighbour back home, recommended a restaurant only because it served portions so large that one could not possibly finish them. And believe me, he can eat a lot! So that has to say something.'
'Human nature, I suppose. Everyone wants as much as possible for their money, whether they actually need it or not. It's how sales work. Why not buy that black coat, even though you already have three that look almost identical? After all, it's thirty per cent off. A bargain!'
'My father always says that it's only a bargain when you actually need it.'
'Yep. Oh no... - Not again!'
'What? What's wrong?'
'Cottage pie! Not that I mind, I love that stuff, truth be told, but it seems I'll be spending the next few weeks looking for a new chef once again. I swear, if this place ever gets haunted it is by me, looking for a new chef even from beyond the grave.'
'And if you call it something different? Works with a lot of things. Posh restaurants call bubble and squeak colcannon these days, thinly sliced beetroot with some marinade is dubbed carpaccio of beetroot with whatever vinaigrette instead of beetroot salad, and good old onion-jam became confit a l'onion – or as my mother would say “con-fit allonnion”.'
'Right, let's get creative,' Anne grinned even broader while filling her plate with some coleslaw and pie. 'What do you say to “baked steak tartar in juicy sauce topped with a luscious layer of mashed potatoes”?'
'Perfect!'
'Now I just need to translate it into French.'
'Why?'
'To make it sound even posher. I'm not good at French... - Okay, forget I said that. I can't speak French. Ah, but thank goodness, there are translation engines on the internet.'
Anne was about to pull out her mobile, when Darcy and Elizabeth's father appeared, looking like what would be best described as haunted.
Seemed as if Lady Catherine and her mother were still going strong...
'Are you alright, Lizzy?' Darcy asked while taking a seat, pulling another chair over for Mr Bennet with his foot.
'At the moment, yes. But I am starting to dread the next couple of months. Are my mother and your aunt still...'
'Yes, and they will still be making plans in a fortnight if we don't interrupt them. And once your mother is back home, your aunt Rosie will have her share in the planning as well,' her father sighed. 'And Penny, and Mary, Kitty and Lydia, who might be the most sensible of the lot, and, of course, all the ladies from the farmer's wives association and...'
'Please stop!'
'Evenually you'll have to face the facts, my dear. Better be prepared than overrun. At least we're not Catholic or I am sure your mother would drag you all the way to Rome to have you married by the pope.'
'Steak de tartare cuit dans une sauce juteuse garni d'une délicieuse couche de purée de pommes de terre,' Anne suddenly piped up, startling everybody.
'What?'
Bless her, another attempt to change the subject to more comfortable matters.
'Oh, never mind. I was just trying to find an alternative name for cottage pie.'
'Why not call it shepherd's pie?' Fitz offered.
'It has to sound fancy.'
'But Steak de ta... - whatever, is perhaps a bit long, don't you think?'
'Well, shepherd's pie translates to tarte au berger, if I remember it correctly,' Tom Bennet offered, nicking a piece of apple from his daughter's plate.
'Perfect!' Anne smiled. 'Tarte au berger it is. And now onto the more pressing matter of how to prevent our relatives and friends from going overboard with your wedding.'
'That won't be quite as simple.'
'On the contrary, it's a piece of cake. We simply invite them all here for a workshop, something that has to do with weddings would be best, naturally. Why not “Paperflower folding-power”, or “How to cry with dignity during the ceremony 101”? I also like the ideas of “Hat design to mismatch your dress” and “Wedding-cake architecture of the 19th century”, or perhaps “A lesson in wine - quantity before quality”. And while they are busy with that, the two of you can prepare everything in peace.'
'That sounds like a good plan, actually,' Tom Bennet replied, stealing yet another piece of apple from Elizabeth. 'And if I may make a suggestion, Lizzy, Will, it is always best to start with what one doesn't want and go from there. And that will be the only advice I'll give in regards to your wedding, just in case you were worried.'
'I was,' Elizabeth laughed, reaching for Darcy's hand. 'But, as always, your advice seems a sound one.'
'I wish I had paid any heed to it myself...' her father replied with a sigh, the implication clear. 'But alas, we're all fools in love and as it is, it never gets boring, so I have little reason to complain after all.'
'That's one way to see it,' Fitz remarked, pushing away his plate of tarte au berger. 'I like that attitude. Think positive. Always good. Works for the military as well. I mean, whoever thought of calling it friendly fire was a genius. What could be more friendly than being shot by one of your own? Just to think that someone might call it a misfired shot or something equally unpoetic makes me cringe.'
'Don't you think that's a bit dark, Fitz?' Darcy inquired.
'No, not at all. It's a matter of having the last laugh.'
'Ha-ha!'
'Exactly. Now you've got it. So, what is it you'd rather avoid on your wedding day?'
'The mother in law,' Elizabeth's father prompted without giving Darcy a chance to answer.
'Eh...' her groom stammered, a blush creeping up his cheeks.
'Papa, really, that isn't fair. We haven't been engaged a day and you already take the mickey.'
'Well, as said, you need to be prepared for what is to come. Your mother will drag you to every single bridal shop from here to the Scottish border, if not beyond and will insist on the gaudiest dress you can possibly imagine. If you are not careful you will end up wearing an orange dress holding a pink bouquet and hobble around on stilts.'
'Cheers.'
'Pleasure.'
'But as it is, the dress is already sor...'
'LIZZY! FITZWILLIAM! Come here! Catherine and I have a couple of ideas and we'd like to know what you think about them,' Mrs Bennet shouted above the conversations of the dining room, standing in the doorway with an eager and excited expression on her face, while all heads turned in her direction.
'Point
taken, dad,' Elizabeth could not help sighing.
The grin on her father's face was a decided manifestation of the verbal “I told you so!”.
It was no small relief that Darcy also got up, and together they made their way towards the entrance hall, and from there down a passage into what seemed like Lady Catherine's private sitting room.
The whole of the coffee table was scattered with various magazines and catalogues and what seemed like old menus from Rosings alongside an oversized bright green calculator in the shape of a frog, the display being the open mouth of the poor creature while one eye was the on-switch and the other would produce the desired result. Seriously, animal cruelty was so not on!
'Lizzy, Fitzwilliam, what do you say to a beach wedding?' Lady Catherine asked with an enthusiasm that could only be equalled to that of a toddler's on Christmas morning. 'I made some calculations already and...'
'In January?' Darcy blurted out. 'Sounds like a plan. We could all go for a swim afterwards. Dundee seems to be the perfect location.'
'Codswallop! A proper beach wedding...'
'Torbay perhaps? After all, it's called the English Riviera, isn't it?'
'The Caribbean, Fitzwilliam!'
'No.'
'Why not? It's nice and warm, no-one would need to worry about coats and stuff and accommodation for the guests will be cheap. Okay, the flight might cost a couple of Pounds, but that really shouldn't matter.'
'We might not need to worry about coats and stuff but about hurricanes, sharks and the Bermuda Triangle.'
'And besides, why have a winter-wedding then?' Elizabeth threw in.
'Do you really want to get married on a dark and damp day, rain pouring down and mud everywhere?' her mother inquired in a way that showed that for her the matter was already decided.
'It usually snows in Derbyshire at that time of year, Mrs Bennet,' Will pointed out.
'See, that's even worse, Lizzy. Your dress will blend into the background. No-one will see you,' her mother all but wailed now.
'I could wear a safety vest...'
'Now really, Lizzy!'
'Perhaps we should postpone the discussion of where the wedding will be in favour of the colour scheme...' Lady Catherine suggested, obviously undeterred. 'Now pink and red are so common, what do you say about purple or turquoise?'
'Or both?' her mother beamed as if she had just now found the Holy Grail. 'They are complementary colours, you know? It would look quite stunning.'
Okay, neither colour was bad, and Elizabeth had actually a turquoise tunic with purple and green embroidery she really liked, but as colour-scheme for a wedding? Nope. No way!
'Mum, could we please postpone the whole discussion until later? Will and I haven't even been engaged these six hours, it's not as if we are getting married next week. There is plenty of time, yet.'
'But time will fly, you'll see. Bit's always best to get everything out of the way as soon as possible. - Oh, just to think that next year this time I might be a grandmother!'
NOOOOOOOOOOO!
'Oh, that would be so romantic. A wedding night baby!' Catherine de Bourgh cooed.
“Why, Lord, why?” Elizabeth silently prayed.
'Lessons commence!' someone cried out from the hallway.
Someone who sounded suspiciously like her father pinching his nose so his voice would go unrecognised.
If so, it hadn't worked. As she and Darcy hurried out of the room, poor Tom Bennet was dragged into it and with an ominous thud the door was shut and her father trapped between a rock and a hard place or in this case between his own dear wife and Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Chapter 43:
Home?
'So, what do we do now?' Elizabeth asked tiredly. 'I have to admit I have little notion of doing any more dancing...'
'Of course not!' Fitz's voice sounded up and an instant later he rounded the corner of the staircase and stepped into the hall, carrying their luggage. 'I see Tom managed to get you out of there and all went according to plan. Now all you have to do is take your stuff and head north...'
'Wait! You forgot something,' Anne came running towards them, carrying the bag with the wedding dress carefully holding it with both hands. 'You're going to need this. And now flee as long as the dragons are in their lair.'
Stunned Elizabeth and Darcy watched on as their possessions were carried outside and over to the car park. What else was there to do but follow?
'Right, now that we are out of sight let me make a quick suggestion,' the colonel commenced, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected his aunt and Mrs Bennet to appear out of thin air at any given moment. 'You get everything prepared for the wedding as soon as you can and we see you in a couple of weeks in our Sunday best. It'll be the only possible way to not turn the whole thing into a state affair.'
Right, that made sense, sadly enough.
A moment later Darcy and her sat in his Landrover and slowly he pulled out of the car park before picking up speed.
The whole situation felt somewhat surreal.
'I'm sorry, Will...,' Elizabeth began when they had left Hunsford behind and were well on their way towards the motorway.
'So am I. My aunt is trying one's patience at the best of times, but that exceeded even my expectations,' Darcy replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he wanted to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming.
'Put together with my mother, they are a menace. I do feel sorry for my dad.'
'Yes, me, too. Home? - Pemberley, I mean.'
That sounded lovely. Yet...
'I would love to, but...'
'You feel obliged to go back to Longbourn?'
'Yes, as silly as that might sound,' Elizabeth sighed.
'It doesn't,' Darcy answered re-assuringly, though there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. 'You do feel responsible for your family, and I for my part would say that is a very good thing.'
'But you'd rather I came with you.'
'Naturally. As said, I've missed you these last couple of weeks. But thank goodness we live in a time where the telephone has been invented and we don't need to rely on the post to hear from one another.'
'Though, writing love letters sounds quite romantic,' Elizabeth grinned.
'Hm, then I shall write as well as call you.'
As they drove on, they chatted about this and that, carefully avoiding the topic of their upcoming nuptials. Seriously, for today there had been enough talk of that. Actually, it was almost enough to last for a lifetime. Of course, eventually plans would have to be made, and there was still a lot to organise, not least of all, her moving up to Derbyshire and changing uni and then there might be a baby...
Okay, perhaps they should speak about the wedding after all.
'Lizzy,' Darcy began hesitantly, after they had driven in silence for a couple of minutes, his thoughts obviously going down the same path. 'How would you like our wedding to be?'
'Quiet. Just family and close friends, nothing too fancy. And you?'
'Same here. There is an old chapel at Pemberley, at the far side of the park...'
'You have your own chapel?'
'Well, yes. It is not in use anymore but still consecrated so we could marry there if it would suit you. I think the church officials just forgot all about it. It is tucked away in the woods.'
'By the sound of it, it would suit me very well, Will.'
'Then I will see that it's prepared. How many people do you estimate we're going to be? From my side that would be...' he calculated in his head before continuing. 'Twelve, if I haven't forgotten anybody. Let's say twenty, just to be on the safe side, oh, and not counting the children.'
'On my side, it's around the same. Not more than twenty adults, I mean.'
'Good, let's say around forty people plus a couple of kids. That sounds reasonable. Let's have a cuppa, shall we?'
'Yep.'
Damn, this was so nice. A peaceful and sensible conversation with no danger of any kind of interruption. Bless
the person who had decided that a mobile phone needed an off-switch! But did she really have to go back to Longbourn? Okay, she would go back for a week or so and then join Will... - But a week could be such an incredibly long time. Especially when missing someone. Oh dear! Damned if you do, damned if you don't. If she didn't go back home, she would feel guilty, if she did, she would, too. Blast!
Darcy stopped at the next road services, despite the fact that they had almost reached Hertfordshire by now. The next exit would lead them up the M1 and only roughly thirty miles from here they would have reached her destination. Bummer!
When they both held a cup of tea in their hands, Elizabeth commenced the conversation: 'What do you suggest we serve our guests for the wedding breakfast?'
'Being a farmer, I fully promote seasonal food. Why one would want strawberries in December is beyond me. They taste of nothing but water and not very nice one on top of that.'
'Yep. Okay, so what's seasonal in January?'
'Right, that might be tricky. But perhaps we should take Fitz's advice...'
'True. Just to imagine my mum making any more plans makes me shiver. And as the date approaches it'll only get worse. At least my dad is back home to prevent her from buying things on a whim left right and centre.'
'So, we're talking mid-November then?'
'Looks like it.'
'Good, we can work with that. How many courses? My aunt insisted on five, but I personally would say three are more than sufficient and perhaps a small buffet later on in the evening.'
'That sounds good. And let's not forget tea.'
'True, though perhaps we should arrange for the wedding to take place sometime during the afternoon instead around midday. It can drag endlessly otherwise,' Darcy suggested carefully.
Good thinking actually. She had not thought about that. But he was certainly right. A wedding could drag on forever and then people got bored and usually that was when a lot of shit happened.
'Definitely,' Elizabeth wholeheartedly agreed. 'Around three?'
'Perfect! - So, instead of lunch, we could serve tea, meaning pastries, sandwiches and all that and then have a three-course wedding breakfast after the church ceremony.'