“You! I might have expected you to be listening at the keyhole. Well I hope you are satisfied with your deeds! My nephew will disgrace his entire bloodline because of you. His dear departed mother would turn in her grave if she knew what a disappointment, he turned out to be. My poor Anne will be inconsolable and it is all your fault! I was a sentimental old woman to believe that a person of your status would know her place, but no longer. If Darcy cannot see sense then I will demand it of you. Tell me there is no arrangement between the two of you!”
“Good morning to you too, Lady Catherine. It has been far to long since we last met,” Elizabeth replied as if she had been just offered tea and cake.
“Don’t you play coy with me missy! I demand an answer.”
“I hardly know of any arrangement which would be of interest to you. Have you come to congratulate my sister and Mr. Bingley on their engagement?”
“Pish! A tradesman’s son can marry a chambermaid if he chooses, it matters not to me. But I will not have such a person marry the heir to Pemberley. It cannot happen.”
“If he is agreeable, then I have no objection, but I have not heard of Mr. Darcy wishing to wed a chambermaid. Are congratulations in order? Surely, she is a fortunate lady.”
“Oh! The insolence! My nephew is to marry my daughter, it has been agreed since their childhood!”
“Then I cannot imagine why we are having this conversation… unless those children do not wish to marry.”
“Children do as they are told!”
“Indeed, but grown men do not. I suppose Mr. Darcy will wed where he pleases and to whom he pleases.”
“Has he asked you? I must be told.”
“He has… and I refused.”
“And you will do so again if need be?”
“I cannot imagine why he would risk refusal a second time.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“I am not your servant, nor your child. I need not answer to you, now or ever.”
“Is that so? Know you this! I do not approve of any match, nor will I ever. You are not welcome at Rosings or any place in which I preside. What do you say to that?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes heavenward for divine assistance, but her aid came from a more familiar and worldlier source… her dearest sister. Jane, until now, had stood in shocked awe as Darcy’s aunt blasted her ire, but no more. Drawing herself up as imposing as she could manage, Jane lifted her finely shaped nose in the air and spoke with a severe eloquence that was frightening.
“You madam, have behaved worse than the most callous fishwife and are an embarrassment to all that is civilized. I must insist that you leave MY HOME immediately. It is a place of comfort and solace to MY family, which you are not a part. Perkins? Please see Lady Catherine out.”
The butler of Netherfield, new to his post, hesitated only for a moment before doing as bid. He was not about to ruin the best position he had ever held by acquiescing to a nasty old lady, title or no. Shaking off the arm he offered, Lady Catherine stormed off to her carriage in a cloud of lavender scented rage. It was only after the sound of wheels crunching on the stone drive as they carried her away dissipated, did anyone breathe easier.
“My dear Jane, you were positively magnificent!” Bingley cheered as he dared to kiss her cheek.
Blushing Jane smiled weakly. “I could not let her say those terrible things. How can anyone tolerate her?”
“She is rather trying, but I know it was probably worse for Darcy. Where has he gone?” Elizabeth asked.
Of Darcy, there was no sign during the entire tirade. Rather than continue to be berated, he had abandoned his aunt for the peace of the rear gardens. After leaving Jane and Charles to explore the attics, it was there that Elizabeth eventually found him.
“Was it truly awful?” she whispered from behind.
Startled, Darcy nearly jumped from where he had sat on a small garden bench. Patting the space beside him, he nodded. Lines of stress had formed on his features, as he fought to control his own anger.
“So, she is gone then? I could hear some of what she said to you. Do you think me a coward for not coming in?”
“No… I fear that I did my share of goading her temper, but it was Jane who threw her out.”
“Really? That must have been something. In truth, I feared that I would lay hands upon her. It took all of the self-control I possessed not to give in.”
“Well, I don’t think Lady Catherine de Bourgh will be gracing us with her presence anytime soon.”
“I shall not miss her… you do realize that what she said was not true?”
“What part? Of my being a chambermaid? I certainly dressed the part today.”
“No... about my cousin Anne and I being engaged. It was never a formal agreement. Besides, Anne has a life of her own, one that does not include me. She is a bit of a wild one…sneaks out late at night dressed as a man. Her mother has no idea.”
“I should like to be present when she does find out.”
Darcy laughed and agreed. His foul mood was lifting rapidly, as it always did in the presence of Elizabeth. But he was not completely at ease. While Elizabeth admitted to having refused his past proposal, she had been elusive as to if she would consider a future one. Was he wasting his time? Did Elizabeth believe he would never risk asking again? How long was he to wait in this strange limbo of bliss and misery until he was sure of an acceptance?
~Thirty-one~
The weeks that followed filled Darcy with a bittersweet emotion to which he could not give name. In his daily encounters with Elizabeth, he was the happiest of men, but the moment they ended, a deep longing filled him. It was as if he would part from her forever. In truth, he would need to leave Meryton shortly after the wedding of Charles and Jane. Pemberley called to him, demanding he rectify the neglect that can only be remedied by the return of its master. Georgiana would travel to Netherfield for the ceremony and then accompany him home. While he had harbored a deep love for the family estate, matched only by his pride in its history and eloquence, the place would seem hollow and empty without Elizabeth. If only he could convince her that he was a much-changed man… one so altered, yet still consumed by his love for her. Pemberley would be nothing if not shared with Elizabeth. He had nearly asked her again, on the day that he had gifted her the horse, but something in her manner had made him pause. Every time he saw her ride the mare, it was as if woman and beast had fused into one ethereal entity. She was meant to have her, but did Elizabeth want him?
“But I cannot accept such an expensive thing. Does she not belong to Miss Bingley?”
“No, the horse was actually one Charles had bought on a whim with the plan to create his own breeding stock, but thankfully that idea has passed. Caroline never rode her much and honestly was not the best horsewoman. Artemis is yours if you want her… please do not feel in any way beholden.”
“How could anyone not want her?” Elizabeth had replied as she stroked the mare’s nose. The responding nicker sealed the acceptance, but something in Elizabeth’s countenance had left him feeling unsettled. Her eyes seemed in a faraway place, one in which he was not a part. Time was running out for them unless he acted.
With less than a month before the festivities, Darcy played out various scenarios in which he would again ask for her hand, only to discard them as silly or overly dramatic. It was in this act, as he rode towards their secret copse in the woods, that he nearly toppled from his horse.
Recently, they had begun the instruction of firearms. It was indeed fortunate that Elizabeth had no such knowledge when they had first met, for she was a natural to the sport. Her eye for a target, when accompanied by lightening quick reflexes, made for a deadly opponent. Darcy would wager his annual income on her ability to match the skill of England’s best marksmen. Were she ever to be in a temper while armed, the offender stood no chance. It was the sound of gunfire that had snapped him from his reverie. To his knowledge, Elizabeth had not chosen to practice a
lone. But when he entered the designated clearing, she was no where to be seen. Only the presence of her mare gave any suggestion that Elizabeth was near. Of distress, Artemis did not demonstrate, but casually nibbled on a clump of grass. Taking the horse’s reins, Darcy scanned the circle of trees, nor had an unfortunate accident taken his love.
“Darcy? Is that you? Do come and give a hand with this. I fear I have overestimated my ability.”
Staggering into the clearing, Elizabeth dragged a canvas sack bulging from whatever was inside. Smears of dried blood and dirt streaked her dress and mud caked her shoes, but the smile of satisfaction gave a beauty that outshone her attire.
“There was a flock of geese overhead and I did not want to waste the opportunity. Cook will be delighted. My father loves nothing better than a roasted goose dinner.”
Elizabeth’s beaming face froze as she saw the look of terror on Darcy’s face. What had she done to displease him? Dropping her prize, she went to where he stood shaking in what she believed to be anger.
“You gave me a fright. I imagined all sorts of calamities. Please promise that you will not hunt alone? It is not safe to do so. I… I thought…I thought the worst had happened.”
Darcy resisted the urge to take her in his arms. At first, it was the desire to shake sense in to her for scaring the wits out of him, second it was to never let her go. How would he live if something had befallen her? Something due to his interference?
“I didn’t mean to…as you can see, I am perfectly fine.”
Her face was paled as the magnitude of his feelings sent a jolt through her being. Where was the man that feared nothing? Showed no emotion? In his place stood a man exposing his feelings without restraint.
“I should not have forgiven myself had you been killed.”
“But I have not…you must not…cannot feel this way about me…”
“Yet I do…I always have. It cannot be wrong.”
By now, Elizabeth had crossed the distance of the clearing to where Darcy stood. Horses forgotten, the reins trailed as he held out empty hands to her. Taking the pistol she still carried, Darcy positioned it with the barrel at his own heart.
“Here, take a lethal shot, for I can no longer live without you. Please, tell me that your feelings have changed towards me… you no longer despise me.”
“I… I… do not hate you… quite the opposite. But it seems that with every happiness, something happens to put us at odds.”
“No two people can ever be in total agreement. It is your spirit to challenge my ways that is so endearing. What I would hate is a woman that constantly agreed with me, or worse, did not and hid behind false smiles. Your honesty, your patience, your constant ability to find amusement, even in the worst of circumstances, your practicality… I could go on forever. I love everything about you. My former offer remains… the one you once found so distasteful. Either consent to be my wife, or put me out of my misery.”
Having forgotten that she held a pistol to his chest, Elizabeth’s fingers dropped the weapon as if it were afire. The thud as it hit the ground was unheard as the pounding in Darcy’s heart drummed in his ears as he felt her take his hand. The response he had wished for was answered in a whisper before his lips claimed hers.
“Then your misery must also be mine.…for I do love you. I cannot say when it began, but only that it grows in intensity with each passing day. Do not leave me again.”
“Never…”
~Thirty-two~
Somehow, Elizabeth had managed to convince him to keep their engagement a secret, even from their families. But as he could deny her nothing, it was agreed that they would announce it shortly after Jane’s wedding.
“I want her to have her own day, and selfishly… want mine. Knowing my mother, she would insist upon a double ceremony with twice the fripperies and expense.”
He had not cared in the slightest about expense, but that was a luxury unknown to most, and he had begun to respect it more than ever. Money had granted him a great amount of freedom, but it had also caused much misery. No sum could buy the feeling that he experienced with Elizabeth. It bordered on euphoria and was equally addictive. Never before possessed of a secret that he wanted to share, Darcy found it nearly impossible to keep, especially when the change in his demeanor was so noticeable. Georgiana’s arrival to Netherfield made the decision all the more difficult, she had stared at him quizzically when he swung her down from the carriage in greeting. It had been months since he had done so, considering the act to be beneath both their dignity as she was now a young lady.
“Dear brother, what has you in such a state?”
“I am simply very happy to see you. I have neglected my baby sister for far too long.”
“Hmm, I doubt it is all of that. Could it be that your relationship with a particular Miss Bennet is the cause?”
Always astute to his moods, Darcy feared Georgiana’s perceptiveness and once in private, confided in her.
“Now, you must not say a word. Elizabeth is adamant that nothing take the shine from Jane’s wedding. I can hardly believe my good fortune, just wait until you meet the Bennets. At first, it can be a bit overwhelming. They never cease talking, an often exaggerate circumstances, but it is with the best of intentions.”
“Will… will Miss Lydia… I mean, Mrs. Wickham be there?”
This last question came accompanied by a slight tremor to her voice, but Darcy quickly alleviated her fears.
“No, for that small favor, we must take care to not publicly rejoice. I have had word that they have set sail for India just last week. You may never be forced to politely tolerate his presence.”
Relief flooded her features and for the first time, Darcy witnessed his sister experience true enjoyment in meeting new people. Having only been introduced to Elizabeth once, they had accepted an invitation to dinner at Longbourn the first evening after arrival. Mrs. Bennet, in true fashion, fawned over the newcomer as if she were an additional daughter. It was with an amused sense of irony that this action please him so much. And by the end of the evening he was able to spend some private moments with Elizabeth as his sister’s attentions were consumed by Kitty and Mary. Leaving the cluster of giggling girls, he and Elizabeth escaped to the cool night air of the shrubbery.
“Only a week remains, and then you may announce us to the world.”
“I cannot explain it, but for some reason, I want the everyone to know.”
“Where has all the proud reserve gone? Have fairies left a changeling in place of the old Mr. Darcy?”
Even in her teasing, he loved Elizabeth all the more.
“You have not said where you want the ceremony. My own parents were married at St. Paul’s in London, by the bishop himself. While I think that may be a bit difficult to arrange, I could see how far my grandfather’s influence stretches.”
“Oh no! I should hate that… besides it is far to public and impersonal. Something smaller and more intimate is preferable.”
“What of the chapel at Pemberley?”
“It would be a bit far for my parents. They would be forced to have an extended visit…”
Elizabeth had grimaced at the prospect, while Darcy swallowed his own reaction. Eventually, it would be necessary to invite her parents to her future home, but he had hoped it would not be for some months after the wedding. The knowledge that her mother would behave foolishly was off-putting.
“Perhaps not. Besides, it is also a crypt… a bit ghoulish for a wedding. What of the church in Meryton? Jane seems pleased with it.”
“Yes, and I am happy for her. She and Mother have made agreat fuss about the decorations and they are beautiful, but call me selfish, I want our wedding to be different. I don’t want any constant comparisons”
“Well then where? Shall we elope to Gretna Green?”
This time, it was his turn to tease. No Darcy had ever eloped to Scotland and he was not about to solemnize his future with Elizabeth in a Spartan municipal office. However, his
suggestion was met by a sharp elbow to his ribs. Flinching against the blow, he voiced one last option, one that was met with ebullience.
“What say you to getting married in our secret copse? The weather is still fair, despite it being early autumn…”
“That is positively perfect! A small pergola could be erected under which we could say our vows. I shall carry a bouquet of asters mixed with newly turned leaves. Instead of a formal luncheon, we shall have hot cider and chocolate with an array of sweets. It will be wonderful!”
Kissing her forehead, Darcy nodded to her every wish as Elizabeth planned their day. In truth, he cared not if she made him dress as a scarecrow as long as the end result remained the same. She would be his.
~Epilogue~
In the end, all was as it should be despite the refusal of certain members of Darcy’s family to attend, for their presence was not missed. The wedding of Fitzwilliam Darcy to Elizabeth Bennet, although unconventional for their day, was a thing of rare beauty in its simplicity. The bride, foregoing traditional cream or white, met her groom in a gown of crimson overlaid with gold lace appropriate to a harvest goddess of old. No formal bonnet graced her head as a crown of late roses held the matching gold veil in place. A more perfect situation could not be had as all witnessed declared it beyond beautiful. Even the carriage had been decorated in harvest colors, garlands of leaves trailing as the newlyweds waved good bye.
“You see Mr. Bennet, it is all as I have said. Our girls will marry well and for love, not necessity,” the mother of the bride boasted as she dabbed tears from her eyes.
“Indeed Mrs. Bennet, you are always most correct in your premonitions. Now I can die as I wish.”
“Nonsense! I have much work yet to be done and your assistance is paramount. Kitty and Mary still remain, and then there is that poor motherless waif of Miss Darcy. Husbands must be found for each of them. It was not easy finding Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, but I have the greatest of hopes that the right gentlemen will come along very soon.”
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