Truth about Mr. Darcy

by Susan Adriani

  The gentlemen rejoined them shortly thereafter. Darcy was rather relieved to find Elizabeth and Jane in rapt conversation with Georgiana. Mrs. Hurst was attending them with disinterested politeness. Miss Bingley, who had noticed him immediately from her perch on the settee at the other end of the drawing room, rose and glided toward him.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I do believe I owe you my congratulations, sir! I had no idea we were to lose you a mere two days from now. What a loss for all of the accomplished ladies of the ton. You are doing us all quite a disservice, sir. So many hearts shall surely be broken.” Her sly smile repulsed him. “I do not suppose you are having second thoughts, sir? I do believe it is customary for many gentlemen to reconsider their options before taking such a fateful plunge.” Miss Bingley moved in closer, gripping his arm tightly, and purred in a throaty voice that made him cringe, “You know, it is not too late to change your mind, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy disentangled himself from her grasp and directed a warm look at Elizabeth. “No, that is quite unnecessary, I assure you. You find me only too willing to make the most beautiful woman in all of London my wife.”

  Miss Bingley’s face contorted in obvious displeasure and, before she could think better of it, blurted out, “Well, then I wonder at your wanting to marry Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “What?” The room stilled, and Darcy fixed her with a look of contempt so menacing that Miss Bingley actually recoiled. Convinced she may have finally crossed a fine line Darcy had drawn, she dared not do anything more than stare after him as he walked quickly away to join Elizabeth, Jane, and Georgiana, his body stiff. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had joined them moments earlier, stood with his brows raised while Bingley, sporting a scowl that rivaled Darcy’s, crossed the room in three strides and steered his offending sister out of sight and into another room at the end of the hall.

  With a glance at her husband, Mrs. Hurst abandoned her chair to follow them but was halted by Mr. Hurst’s stern voice. “Louisa, sit! I will have none of this in my house! Now fetch me a brandy and one for Bingley’s Miss Bennet, as well. I daresay she looks as though she could use one.”

  All eyes shifted to Jane, who did, indeed, look pale. “I… no, that is… please, you must not worry over me. I will be fine in a moment. Really, it is nothing.”

  Elizabeth knelt in front of her. “Dearest Jane, do not distress yourself on my account. Truly, Miss Bingley said nothing that causes me any grief. Actually,” she continued with a smile, “I confess myself rather disappointed in her scant efforts tonight. I have grown quite accustomed to receiving far more disparaging remarks from her sharp tongue.” Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed as she shook her head. “No, tonight she was not up to her usual high standard at all! Perhaps she is feeling suddenly unwell, or perhaps something particular has driven her to distraction?” Elizabeth turned a mischievous smile on Darcy, who raised his brow as she, Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Hurst erupted into laughter. It was not long until Jane joined them.

  A reluctant smile broke on Darcy’s face, as well. As he watched the woman he loved more than life itself, laughing along with the others, he could not help but marvel at her selfless ability to transform an unpleasant scene he knew must have brought her some degree of pain and mortification into a diversion for the benefit of her beloved sister. He doubted he would ever be able to do such a thing—find folly in an otherwise intolerable situation, laugh when he would rather have cried, even for Georgiana’s sake. At that moment he felt an overwhelming urge to go to her, but not because of any physical desire. He wanted only to enfold Elizabeth in his arms and hold on to her, to place kisses in her hair and tell her how much he loved her, how much having her in his life, returning his love, meant to him.

  They would be married in only two days’ time, and Darcy had promised her father he would not go to her before then, but, as he continued to look upon her in the middle of the Hursts’ drawing room—so beautiful, so vibrant, so strong, yet so vulnerable, one thing became undeniably certain to him—he did not relish the unhappy prospect of being unable to offer his consolation to her on that night, especially given their earlier talk in the carriage outside of the theatre.

  Bingley returned to offer his sincerest apologies to a rather surprisingly jovial set of people. His sister, however, did not. Concern for Miss Bingley soon drove Louisa away, but the rest of the party spent another half hour rather pleasantly without their society before finally acknowledging the lateness of the hour.

  While Darcy made his farewells to Bingley and Mr. Hurst, Colonel Fitzwilliam handed the ladies into Darcy’s carriage. Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the carriage before him, and by the time the master of Pemberley joined them, he found the only option left to him was a vacancy by Elizabeth’s side. He hesitated several seconds, and Elizabeth extended her hand to him and laced her fingers with his as she gave him a tired smile. Darcy glanced at the others in the carriage, but they all seemed to be suspiciously well occupied, either looking out of windows, examining gloves, or searching through reticules.

  At last, Darcy seated himself beside Elizabeth, giving her hand a small squeeze as he raised it to his lips and then placed it upon his lap. He heard her quiet sigh, a sigh of exhaustion, emotional as well as physical, and felt her turn her face into his shoulder for a fleeting moment. It had been a difficult day for her—a difficult week, actually—and, without so much as a second thought, Darcy turned his head to bestow a kiss upon her temple as he allowed himself to whisper ever so softly, so only she would hear, “How I love you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  Chapter 20

  Elizabeth awoke early Saturday morning to find her maid, Sonia, bustling about in preparation for her mistress’s morning bath. She smiled as she threw back the counterpane and reached for her dressing gown. Despite the numerous trials of the week, this was Elizabeth’s wedding day, and she was convinced nothing could spoil it.

  Sonia gave her a happy, knowing look. “Good morning to you, ma’am. Your bath will be ready shortly, and a tray will be sent up to you in an hour. Mrs. Hildebrandt said it will not do to have the master see you in all your finery before you are wed, and thought it best you break your fast in your room this morning.”

  “Thank you, Sonia. Please tell Mrs. Hildebrandt I appreciate her thoughtfulness.” The young woman nodded and slipped from the room.

  When Elizabeth stepped into the steaming bath, she did so with a sigh and leaned her head back against the soft towel that had been placed on the rim of the tub. A warm feeling of relaxation and contentment settled over her, and her thoughts soon drifted to Darcy. Though their courtship had been brief and riddled with difficulties, she could assuredly say it had been a most enjoyable time for her.

  Not only was Darcy a passionate, caring man who was unafraid to show her his affection, he was also considerate and generous, almost to a fault. He was more than willing to do any little thing for her comfort and pleasure, and she was truly surprised by the lengths to which he was willing to go in order to secure her happiness. She smiled to herself, recalling the day before when her mother, in her effusions over the impending nuptials the following day, had managed to work all her daughters and poor Georgiana into a fit of nerves that could have rivaled her own. Just when Elizabeth had been certain she could take no more, Darcy appeared with Mrs. Hildebrandt.

  * * *

  “I do not mean to intrude, Mrs. Bennet, but Mrs. Hildebrandt and I find ourselves at quite a loss over certain unresolved details for the wedding breakfast tomorrow. We were wondering whether you would be so kind as to assist us, as it is truly of the utmost importance.”

  He cast a meaningful glance at Elizabeth and, though his demeanor appeared to be just as serious as ever, she recognized a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. She was certain it was discernible to no one but Georgiana and herself, and she had to turn away for a moment to hide her smile.

  “Ah, but I see you are very busy at the moment. Forgive me, madam. I am certain the cook can wo
rk out some other alternative to the fish we were planning to serve. Perhaps we shall just go without? What say you, Mrs. Hildebrandt?”

  The plump housekeeper then replied, in a voice that sounded suspiciously well rehearsed, “Why yes, sir, whatever you think is best. I shall tell Mrs. Richards immediately that we shall simply go without the fish.”

  “What do you mean, go without? Go without? I should say not! Where is this cook of yours, Mr. Darcy? I daresay I shall set her to rights before long! No fish for my own daughter’s wedding breakfast, indeed!” She turned to Elizabeth, who had to struggle to keep her composure. “Lizzy, you shall just have to do without me, I am afraid, for I am needed immediately to organize the wedding breakfast. I cannot be bothered with these other trivialities just now,” she said as she waved her handkerchief at her daughter. “Your gown is lovely, and I am sure your maid shall do an excellent job with your hair, child. You need not worry yourself over a thing, especially now that Mr. Darcy has seen fit to consult me on the business of the breakfast. Sir, you were very right to come to me.”

  That having been said, she ran ahead of Mrs. Hildebrandt to find the cook. The housekeeper looked back at her master, casting him a look of some trepidation, to which he only nodded. Elizabeth looked to Darcy with a raised brow, barely able to contain her amusement, and Darcy returned her look with a dazzling smile. Raising her hand to his lips, he bowed to her and quitted the room, leaving the ladies to continue their plans and preparations unencumbered.

  It was not until much later in the evening that Elizabeth had finally found an opportunity to speak with Darcy alone, for, though she and her sisters had not been forced to bear her mother’s excessive raptures or disapprobation throughout the course of the afternoon, she had discovered the same could not be said for Darcy.

  She found him in his study, with a cup of hot tea and some biscuits, reading over some matters of estate business that he had put off to attend Mrs. Bennet. Darcy rang for a servant to bring another cup, and Elizabeth happily joined him.

  With an arch smile, she said, “Though I had no doubt you were speaking the truth when you once said you would do anything in your power to ensure my happiness, sir, I confess I had not completely comprehended the lengths to which you were willing to go in order to secure it. I believe I am indebted to you, Fitzwilliam, for your selfless act earlier this afternoon.”

  Darcy, who was in the midst of raising his cup to his lips, returned her smile. “Yes, I believe you are, my dearest.”

  “So, did you enjoy your afternoon?” she asked.

  Darcy laughed. “Let us just say it was an experience I am not particularly eager to repeat any time soon. I confess I had no idea fish, meats, cakes, breads, flowers, table linens, china, and whatever other details with which your mother saw fit to torture me were of such import to becoming your husband, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “Was she very awful, then?”

  “No. She was not awful. It was the endless list of details and frippery that exhausted me to no end. I believe that in all the time I have known her, I have never once seen your mother expend her efforts beyond the pursuit of eligible husbands, the gleaning of gossip, and shopping. I must say, however, when redirected to another purpose entirely, she is quite a force to behold. She is determined you shall have nothing but perfection on your wedding day, Elizabeth. I was moved by her devotion to you. It is obvious your mother cares a great deal for your happiness.”

  Elizabeth smiled, pleasantly surprised he would have made such an observation of her mother. “Indeed, Mama is devoted to all of us in her own unique way; however, I suspect her taking such a tremendous interest now in me has occurred only to such an extent because I am to marry you. Though I know she does love me dearly, I have never been a favorite of my mother. That is an honor that Jane and Lydia must divide between them, and I might add, one that I have always been perfectly content to forego.”

  “Does that not trouble you, though?” he asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Not at all. I have always had an excellent relationship with my father, which has more than made up for any disinterest on my mother’s part. He and I are far better suited, both in disposition and in taste. I suspect it has been harder on Kitty and Mary, though.”

  “Yes, perhaps.”

  Returning her cup to its saucer, Elizabeth inquired, “And what of your parents, Fitzwilliam? Were you closer to one more than the other?”

  Darcy’s answer was immediate. “My mother. Like you and your father, we shared many things in common. We would while away many hours out-of-doors, walking the paths around Pemberley, talking of books, philosophy, music, art. In the evenings, she would play the pianoforte and sing for my father. She taught me how to play, as well, though I hardly ever do now and never in company. She had a beautiful singing voice, not unlike your own. In many ways you remind me of her, Elizabeth. She had your spirit, your zest for life, your talent for talking to others, your fervent devotion to those she loved. I know she would have loved you, as well.”

  Elizabeth smiled sadly. “You must miss her very much.”

  “I do. She died when I was but twelve. I was devastated, as was my father. Regrettably, Georgiana has no memory of her.”

  “She must have passed away, then, when Georgiana was but a very small girl.”

  Darcy looked away and swallowed. “When she was only a few days old,” he said softly. He got up and walked to the window, raking his hand through his hair, and then walked back to the desk. “Georgiana looked very much like my mother, and my father adored her, doted on her. He devoted many hours to her amusement and did all he could to encourage a bond between us, but for the first year of her life, I could hardly bear to do more than look upon her. I found it too painful. I blamed her for my mother’s death.”

  “But you are both very close now,” she added.

  “Yes. Yes, we are,” he murmured. “Not long after Georgiana had reached her second year, she fell ill with fever. She was not expected to live. Late one night, I went to the nursery where the doctor was tending her with my father. Her tiny body looked so frail and lifeless. It was then, while watching my father pray for the life of his only daughter—the daughter my mother had desired so much that she had been prepared to die for her—when I suddenly realized just how important my baby sister had become to me. At that moment I dropped to my knees and made a promise to God: If he allowed Georgiana to live, I would, from that day forward, be the elder brother she deserved. Regrettably, I have not always succeeded in keeping that promise.”

  Elizabeth had no doubt Darcy was alluding to Ramsgate. Without a word, she reached out to him and took his hand. He gave hers a squeeze and then pulled her to her feet, touching his forehead to hers as he stroked the softness of her cheek. “Enough,” he said softly. “It was not my intention to burden you with my painful memories of the past. Tomorrow we are to be wed, and then we shall begin our life together, one that shall be built on nothing but our love and happiness. No sorrow, no pain, only joy from this moment forward.”

  “You know, Fitzwilliam, that sounds suspiciously like my own philosophy. I heartily believe in thinking only of the past as its remembrance gives us pleasure.”

  Darcy’s lips grazed her hair. “So it does.”

  Elizabeth kissed him before laying her head against his chest and drawing his body closer. The soft thu-thump of his heart soothed her. “Then it is settled,” she sighed. “We shall be the happiest couple in the world.”

  Darcy could hear the lightness in her tone and the conviction in her voice, and smiled.

  * * *

  “Ma’am?” Sonia’s voice roused Elizabeth from her bittersweet reverie. “Ma’am, forgive my intrusion, but you must make haste if we are to have you dressed and ready in only a few hours.”

  “Yes, thank you, Sonia,” she said as she rose from the tub to dress for the day. My wedding day, she thought with a smile.

  * * *

  As Darcy and Bingley stood
in the church awaiting Elizabeth’s arrival, the latter leaned in close to his friend and whispered, “I say, Darcy, you look as though you are going to your death. Smile, man. It is your wedding day, after all, not your funeral.”

  Twisting his signet ring, Darcy replied, “Bingley, you know how I detest being in front of a crowd. I cannot help but feel as though I am on display.”

  Bingley chuckled. “I would hardly call a handful of your closest relatives, the Bennets, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner a crowd, Darcy.”

  “Perhaps,” Darcy conceded as he shrugged, “but you cannot deny that I am certainly on display at the moment.” He ran the back of his hand across his mouth in apparent agitation, then, leaning toward his friend, he said in a low voice, “I must confess, Bingley, I had given very little thought to any of this beyond being wed to the woman I love. I cannot thank you enough for standing up with me.”

  “You are most welcome, Darcy. Fear not. It shall soon be over. Then you will have three months in which to recover before you must journey to Hertfordshire to bear witness to my own happiness.” Darcy rolled his eyes, an indulgent smile upon his lips, as with a wide grin, Bingley slapped him on the back.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, Darcy’s gaze darted to the door of the church before falling upon the dozen or so relations murmuring in the pews. His brow furrowed, and he said, “Bingley, I cannot help but notice the absence of your sisters and Hurst. I thought they had intended to be present today. I hope they are well.”

  Bingley gave his friend a wink and said, “I suspect they are all in excellent health, though Caroline is, no doubt, mourning your loss, or rather, her own, with all the dignity and grace of a truly accomplished lady.”