Four years later, Elizabeth Darcy stood in the midst of all her relations, lifelong and newly acquired, each impeccably attired and wearing a smile of joyful anticipation as the door of Pemberley’s small chapel was thrown open. As the heady scent of freshly cut roses permeated the air and beams of sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, Elizabeth smiled. Her eyes sought those of her husband as he made his way toward the altar with Georgiana on one arm and Lydia on his other. His face was an inscrutable mask as he avoided meeting his wife’s joyful gaze.
After placing a kiss upon the rosy, glowing cheeks of each young woman, Darcy surrendered his sisters to the keeping of their prospective bridegrooms and claimed a seat beside his wife. His eyes were suspiciously shiny, and as the minister began to speak, Elizabeth felt her husband’s hand reach for hers and apply an almost painful pressure. She moved closer and placed her other hand over his, squeezing his fingers. Their eyes met and held for a long moment, and Darcy, his emotions running high, swallowed hard several times before finally mouthing a reverent, “I love you,” as he brought both her gloved hands to his lips. Elizabeth smiled, her love for him showing just as clearly in her eyes on this day as it had on the morning of their own wedding.
Once she had learnt to apply herself in the proper manner, Lydia had flourished during her years away at school in London. However, while Mary and Kitty were content to return to Longbourn once their education had been completed, Lydia was not. At the invitation of her second-eldest sister and her brother-in-law, Lydia returned to Pemberley and placed herself under their guardianship indefinitely. With consideration, encouragement, and a healthy dose of patience, her discourse had become sensible, her opinions insightful, and her talents and interests far exceeded those of her past. Her most fulfilling reward for any effort now came in the form of a few kind words of praise or a warm smile, most particularly when bestowed upon her by the master of Pemberley.
Though she, Mary, and Kitty had taken to addressing Darcy as Brother, Lydia had actually come to look upon him as more of a father figure. His good opinion was important to her, and so, she had taken it upon herself to strive to please him in very much the same manner Georgiana had always done—with the intention of making him proud of her. Lydia trusted Darcy’s judgment implicitly and was apt to defer to his wisdom and experience with complete faith in his desire for her welfare, paying him a consideration and a respect she had never been inclined to show her own father during her fifteen years under his roof.
To the astonishment of many, neither gentleman permitted it to become a source of strain or resentment between them. Rather than dwell upon the implications, Mr. Bennet chose instead to do what he had always done so effectively over the years: he overlooked the offense, though, this time with a heavy heart, especially on the day when Lydia traded her maiden name for that of another. Feeling, in a matter of four short years, that his son-in-law had more than earned the right to give away the admirable young lady who had once been his most troublesome daughter, Mr. Bennet gracefully ceded the honor of escorting her down the aisle to Darcy. John Brewster, who was to be the happy recipient of Lydia’s fair hand, hardly cared which gentleman held the distinction of presenting his bride to him, so long as she was surrendered at the proper hour and location.
Music suddenly filled the small chapel, signaling to all within that the ceremony was now officially ended. Darcy watched in a daze as the two smiling couples, who had eyes for none but each other, turned and proceeded up the aisle arm in arm. The doors were thrown open without ceremony, and as birdsong filled the air, all four young people burst out into the perfect June morning amidst shouts of joy and wishes of glad tidings and prosperity. Beaming, Elizabeth stood and tugged on her husband’s hand. The wedding breakfast would be held on a stone terrace not far from the house. A white canopy had been erected by the servants and trimmed with seasonal flowers and silk ribbon. It would be a sumptuous affair, a perfect complement to the ball that had been held the night before. Darcy placed his wife’s hand in the crook of his arm and sighed.
* * *
After a rather emotional day, and well past the hour when his guests had retired for the night, Darcy stood alone in Pemberley’s nursery, gazing upon his daughter, who was not quite one year.
The door creaked open so silently he failed to hear it, nor did he discern the soft footsteps of his wife as she approached in her dressing gown and slippered feet. Her heart full, Elizabeth watched him for several minutes while he traced their slumbering daughter’s pudgy little cheek with his index finger. Her voice was soft when she finally called to him.
He did not turn but remained with his gaze fixed upon their precious babe. It was many moments before he spoke, his voice low after such a monumental day. “It never fails to astound me how very much Eleanor resembles you,” he murmured. “She is so tiny, yet she has your eyes, your lips, your dark curls, even that little crinkle that appears between your brows when you are contemplating something you find baffling.”
Just then, the young lady in question reached out one plump thumb and four fat little fingers and wrapped them around her father’s finger. She ignored Darcy’s attempt to extract himself and held tight, refusing to let go. She sucked on her bottom lip as she slept on.
Darcy smiled at her quiet determination. “She also seems to have inherited your willful spirit, as well,” he softly laughed. With a smile of her own, Elizabeth extracted her husband’s finger from her daughter’s firm grasp, then watched as he slowly raked his hands through his hair, his voice no more than a whisper. “I remember Georgiana being this small as though it were yesterday.”
Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. She knew, perhaps better than anyone, how attached her husband was to his sister and how acutely he was feeling her loss, especially at this moment. Having raised Georgiana on his own since she had been eleven, she had, in many respects, been more of a daughter to Darcy than a sister. He had become equally as attached to Lydia in the past four years, and having to part not with one but with both on the same day had been almost too much for him to bear. Elizabeth stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Darcy’s arms instantly went around her, and she proclaimed, “It has been an emotional day, has it not?”
Darcy buried his face in Elizabeth’s hair, closed his eyes, and allowed the familiar scent of lavender to wash over him, as well as the comforting presence of her softness. The combination, even after the newness of their marriage had worn off, was still instrumental in soothing his agitation. “This day, I fear, has been more difficult than I had originally anticipated,” he admitted.
Elizabeth raised her head and kissed him. “My dearest,” she murmured as she smoothed an unruly curl from his brow, “I can only imagine how you must feel, but I suspect it will become easier with time. This is only the first day, and though Lydia is to reside in Scarborough, Georgiana will be settled only ten miles from Pemberley. She and Mr. Blake have promised to visit us often, and I need not remind you, Fitzwilliam, in the meantime you shall have a most attentive and loving wife to lavish affection upon you. As you are well aware, sir, you will never find yourself at loose ends so long as I am here to encompass every spare second of your time.” Elizabeth reassured him with another kiss and a warm look that brought him further relief.
Darcy smiled down upon her. His eyes closed once more, and with a sigh, he allowed his wife to placate him with her ministrations. Elizabeth said in a teasing voice, “You must also strive to remember that you have a family who absolutely adores you. I believe you know I refer to more than your son and daughter, my dear. You have several other sisters, you know, who love you, as well, to say nothing of an extremely attentive mother-in-law.”
At this declaration, Darcy laughed. “I do hope, however,” he said, “that your mother and her good intentions will remain at Longbourn with your father for some duration before coming to stay with us again. You must own that her exuberance can be trying, especially when there is a wedding at hand. And there has been more than one occ
asion during this visit, in spite of your father’s efforts to check her, when she attempted to lay the blame for Lydia’s initial desire to leave Longbourn upon my shoulders, alone. That, you must own, is hardly fair.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot disagree with you, but I am more inclined to believe the happiness of her favorite daughter’s most fortuitous marriage to Mr. Brewster to have eclipsed any real resentment she may have once harbored toward you on that score. You know she would hardly be civil to you at all if that were the case—or to me for that matter—and she has been, for the most part, quite affectionate toward us both.”
“True. I cannot argue that, in many instances, your mother has been solicitous and kind, especially where the children are concerned, but it does not necessarily follow that because of it I am willing to excuse her more vexatious behavior. In light of all that has passed, you know how it infuriates me to hear her always speaking of frippery, suitors, and marriage to Eleanor. I am convinced that, having now lost all her daughters to common sense and enlightenment, your mother is determined to make ours into the silliest creature imaginable. I will not have it. For God’s sake, Elizabeth, she is but ten months old!” he shouted.
Though Eleanor slept on, young Charles, who had been sleeping on the other side of the nursery, stirred at his father’s harsh tone. Elizabeth laid her hand upon Darcy’s arm as she watched their son roll onto his stomach and snore softly, clutching a toy tightly in his arms. Darcy, his jaw rigid, exhaled and ran his hands across his forehead before he strode from the room.
When Elizabeth found him a few moments later, he was on the balcony just off the master’s chambers. His back was to her, and his hands were braced upon the railing, clutching the iron in his fists. His stiff posture told her all she needed to know—he was far from happy. She came to stand beside him and inquired, “What is it that is truly bothering you, Fitzwilliam? For though my mother has often incited agitation in each of us, you have hardly been yourself this day, my love.”
“Forgive me,” Darcy muttered, his voice barely audible, and after running the back of his hand across his mouth several times, he confessed, “All this business of courting and weddings, I believe, has finally taken its toll on me. I am not cut out for this, Elizabeth… this meeting with prospective suitors and judging correctly whether or not they are sincere in their attentions to those whom I hold most dear. I fear I am ever doubtful and suspicious, and that is very unlikely to change… ever.”
“You are an elder brother, Fitzwilliam, and now a father. Indeed, it is to be expected,” she replied.
“It is more than that. I remember well what befell both our sisters not so long ago, and at the hands of the same blackhearted scoundrel. However, in many senses of the word, we have been fortunate. Though it took time, Georgiana recovered and met Blake—an excellent man—and Brewster fell in love with Lydia, much in the same manner I fell in love with you. It is not every man who would overlook what either of them went through, nor excuse their actions in such events, but it is even more than that. I cannot help but worry that someday Eleanor will desire to leave our protection only to throw herself into the power of some undeserving man who could not possibly recognize or appreciate her true worth.”
Elizabeth moved to rest her cheek upon Darcy’s back and slipped her arms around his waist. “Are you?” she asked, “for I must say I am hardly concerned such a thing shall ever happen. We have many years ahead of us yet to teach Eleanor how to go about choosing a young man who is truly worthy of her love and admiration. I daresay when the time comes for her to surrender her heart to the keeping of another, she shall have no trouble whatsoever in discerning whether or not he is deserving of her.”
Darcy laughed ruefully. “Forgive me if I do not share your confidence. There is no way to ensure such a thing. If Georgiana so easily failed to see what a wretched mistake she was making, and then Lydia—though at the time your sister was hardly the woman she is today—I am afraid I cannot carry so much faith in my heart.”
“You fail to see the common element then, Fitzwilliam.”
He turned sharply. “You mean Wickham? Though he has been dead these four years, I had not thought you so naïve as to believe there are not others in the world very much like him, who would not hesitate to do just as much harm, perhaps even worse.”
“I was not referring to Mr. Wickham, my dear,” Elizabeth said. “I was referring to us, to our love. That is the common element or, rather, one not so common.” Darcy stared at her, and Elizabeth sighed, clearly exasperated. Rather than lose her patience, however, she decided to take pity upon him. “Though I have no doubt Georgiana has always been a very sensible young lady, she had not a mother to speak to her or to guide her and though Lydia had the benefit of such counsel at her constant disposal, one can hardly declare either my sister or my mother to ever have been sensible at the time. Neither of our sisters had anything truly tangible to base their woeful decisions upon. It was not until they were able to see what love should be—to observe it firsthand in us, and to discuss it openly and honestly—that they were finally able to begin to experience it themselves on some vicarious level and, ultimately, to apply that knowledge they had gleaned—that recognition—to their own circumstances. Because of this, they have been able to make sensible decisions for their own greater good and that of their husbands’, as well.”
Watching her husband struggle with this revelation, Elizabeth sighed and extended her hand to caress his abrasive cheek. “You are truly the very best of men, Fitzwilliam. Indeed, I have yet to meet any man who could ever begin to compete with your goodness and your sense of honor. Both Georgiana and Lydia were able to recognize that in you, as well. They chose to model their ideals after you, and as a result, they are now married to two very respectable men who love them unreservedly, in spite of their youthful indiscretions. I can almost promise you Eleanor will be no different and much quicker to pick up on it, I might add, simply because she will have me to explain it to her.”
Darcy held Elizabeth tightly. “You are correct, of course. I should have known better than to question your logic. However better I may feel, though, it still does not help knowing that someday my baby girl will leave me, even if it is for the love and admiration of the second best of men,” he said with a slight curve of his lip.
Elizabeth laughed. “I doubt Eleanor is ready to leave you just yet, especially after the way you have taken to spoiling her.”
“Then I believe I shall have to use this information to my advantage and endeavor to continue with my current course of action. Perhaps tomorrow I shall purchase a pony.”
“You may purchase twenty ponies if you like, Fitzwilliam, but I am sorry to inform you that such generosity shall not ensure your daughter’s continued residence at Pemberley any longer than it takes the man of her dreams to find her and sweep her off her feet. As you know, your time would be far better spent showing Eleanor the many remarkable things you can offer her as her father, such as your wealth of knowledge and strength of character, not the material objects your money can purchase for her. In any case, that is one lesson you have learnt well since the day you met me, so I am convinced you shall do an equally admirable job with our daughter.”
Darcy struggled to repress a smile at her teasing words. She was right; he knew she was. Though Elizabeth had been unaware of it at the time, she had made him work hard to earn her admiration and, ultimately, her love, but in the end, the reward was well worth every bit of the initial suffering he had endured. This woman was, beyond a doubt, his most cherished treasure, and she had been generous enough to give him two others as well: their son and their daughter.
“Indeed,” he said, his voice holding a hint of a teasing inflection, “it is a lesson I found forced upon me very early in our acquaintance, Mrs. Darcy. However, it only continued to prove to me your full value as a woman worthy of being pleased. Of course, I remember well that you were often impertinent to me throughout the whole business and on far too ma
ny occasions for me to recall with any degree of accuracy.”
“You are incorrigible, Mr. Darcy,” she replied, then ran the tip of her tongue over his smiling lips. “I believe, sir, in cases such as these, a good memory is unpardonable. Tell me, husband, why must you forever make mention of my faults?”
Darcy captured her lips in a slow, teasing kiss before he turned his attention to the curve of her neck. When his lips reached her ear and upon hearing her sigh of pleasure, he murmured, “In my opinion it is hardly a fault, you minx, as you are well aware. Though it was the teasing look in your eyes that first drew my notice, it was your impertinence and liveliness of spirit that soon captivated me. The combination, madam, and only in you, I might add, is one I have always found irresistible.”
Elizabeth smiled as he took her lobe between his teeth. His hands wandered over her curves in agonizing slowness; all the while, he drew her body closer. She allowed herself to melt into his embrace, their bodies pressed together. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper when she said, “All this time I had thought it was my intelligent discourse.”
“Hardly,” Darcy growled, “but that was a most pleasant inducement, as well, as was your light and pleasing figure.”
“Incorrigible,” she whispered again as his hands slid down her back to caress her hips.
“Lizzy,” he whispered roughly. His hot breath, coupled with the name he always reserved for those moments of deepest intimacy, sent shivers of longing through her body. “Let us see if we cannot make another impertinent daughter.”
Nine months later, and over the course of the ten years that followed, Elizabeth presented Darcy with three such daughters. Though each was exclaimed over and pronounced to be a local beauty, much in the same manner that their mother and aunts had been, to the astonishment of their elder brother, none of his teasing sisters was ever proclaimed by their father to possess even half so much of their mother’s celebrated impertinence. In light of such a declaration, young Charles, who had inherited much of Darcy’s serious mien, could not help thinking his proud father must have had very little sense in his head at the time to have so easily fallen under the spell of a pretty young woman those many years ago…even if the pretty young woman was his mother. Darcy took great pleasure in enlightening him.
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 39