by Head, Gail
Tea and refreshments arrived soon thereafter, giving a welcome diversion to the party. Still, the visit to Netherfield passed slowly. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether she wished to leave as soon as good manners would allow, or to stay forever just so she could hear the occasional rumble of his voice. The visit seemed to stretch into an eternity of sheer willpower. She was determined to give Jane the time with Mr. Bingley that had been hoped for.
As the afternoon wore on, Elizabeth slowly began to recover from the shock of Mr. Darcy's unexpected appearance. This first meeting had proved to be much more difficult than she had ever imagined; but she had survived in spite of his every word and action that reminded her of what was forever lost. For Jane's sake, she endeavored to act the part of indifferent acquaintance to the man who had wholly captured her heart.
By the time she and Jane were finally on their way back to Longbourn, the strain of the visit had given Elizabeth a throbbing headache. She laid her head back against the cushions, pressing her fingertips to her temples as Jane's anxiety spilled out in a torrent of words.
“Oh, Lizzy! I am so sorry! I had no idea Mr. Darcy would be there or I would never have persuaded you to come. I can only imagine how dreadful it was for you.”
“There was nothing you could do,” Elizabeth sighed wearily. “You did not know – evidently nobody knew until the very last minute.” She let her hands drop to her lap. “It had to happen sooner or later. At least there were very few people to witness it. I only wish Caroline Bingley had not been one of them. That woman is insufferable!”
“Charles has promised to speak to her. She should not have pressed you so.”
“It matters little, really. There will always be a Caroline Bingley somewhere. I shall have to learn to live with it.”
After some moments, Jane broke the silence that had settled between them.
“Lizzy – are you absolutely certain? About Mr. Darcy, I mean. I did not detect any signs of ill favor toward you. Perhaps you are mistaken.”
“No, you would not see any impropriety on Mr. Darcy's part. He was all politeness, but I saw the disgust on his face when Lydia and Wickham were mentioned, however brief it was. He is too much of a gentleman to be anything other than civil in company; but that is all he can be, I am convinced. Lydia's marriage prevents anything more.”
* * * *
“Darcy, what is it you want? You have had several opportunities on our visits to Longbourn this past week and you have done nothing to advance your cause with Miss Elizabeth.”
“I want her love, Bingley.”
“Which I am certain you have. Jane will not betray her sister's trust, but every indication would suggest you have it.”
Darcy stared into the fire, nudging a stray ember back into the flame with the toe of his boot.
“Do I?” he wondered aloud. “Or is it merely a sense of gratitude? Do not forget I misread her meaning once before.”
“I cannot believe you are being so thick headed about this! Of course it is affection!”
“I wish I could be as confident as you are. Had she not discovered my part in the marriage of her sister and Wickham, I might have agreed with you; but now that she is aware of it, I am doubtful.”
“Doubtful?! I should never have said anything! Jane warned me, but I…listen, Darcy; her knowing does not really change anything.”
“Yes, it does! Can you not see it? She does not enjoy my company. She is reticent and withdrawn when I come anywhere near her. In fact, she tries to avoid my company, and when I do manage to engage her, she speaks very little. I do not understand.”
“I do not think it is you, Darcy. Her mother has everyone on edge with the wedding. It will be a relief to have tomorrow done with.” Charles came to stand beside his friend. “You said yourself that things were going well between you two in London. It cannot have changed that much in these few weeks.”
“For me, it has not. You know my feelings well enough; but I fear I was too eager in London and have frightened her off. She was not ready. I knew I should have waited. It is just that I nearly went mad when I thought I was going to lose her, and I wanted so desperately to make her safe. I would have, too; had Wickham not spoiled my plans by running off with her sister.”
“Yes, but you managed to catch him in his own snare with that one. That should have had a positive effect.”
“I cannot tell what effect it has had.”
“Miss Elizabeth is a sensible woman, Darcy. You have salvaged her sister's reputation and saved the entire family from ruin; you have forced a scoundrel to be accountable and given him as much respectability as can be done; and you have sacrificed much to bring Jane and me together. She cannot help but admire you.”
Darcy peered into Bingley's face, a quiet desperation etching his features. “That is precisely what I am talking about, Charles! I do not want admiration – or gratitude for what has been done. I want her love, pure and simple.”
“Must she have only love without the other? It seems to me that they are all connected. Love is a sum of its parts.”
“If only I could be sure.”
“I will give you your own words, my friend. Is it not better to know for certain what her feelings are than to live the rest of your life wondering what could have been? Ask her! Go to her and ask her. It is the only way you will know.”
Darcy's lips twitched at the reference to his own advice. It had worked for Bingley and Jane. Would it do the same for him?
“I suppose you are right.”
“I know I am right!” Bingley smirked encouragingly. “Now it is late and we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. When I return from my honeymoon trip, I expect to hear great things.”
Chapter 30
“Oh, Lizzy,” whispered Kitty excitedly, “You will never guess who is here!”
“Hush, Kitty! Jane and Papá are coming.” Elizabeth's quiet admonition was accompanied by Mary's silent, disapproving look as they turned to watch Jane and their father coming down the aisle.
Elizabeth watched her beloved sister's progress, forcing a deep quelling breath against the sudden tears that filled her eyes. Jane was absolutely radiant in a dress of fine white muslin, a soft silk shawl, white shot with lavender and embossed with white-satin flowers draped across her shoulders. Matching lavender ribbons decorated her bonnet and the small nosegay of creamy white roses and violets from Netherfield's hothouses completed the picture of Jane's utter perfection. If anyone had the slightest doubt as to Mr. Bingley's opinion, they had only to look at his mesmerized expression. In spite of the tears, Elizabeth could not help the smile that played at her lips.
No less amazing was her father's dashing figure beside Jane. His new suit of clothes, cut to accommodate his frame which had been drastically altered by the months of recuperation, was an excellent fit; and even though he leaned heavily on his cane, his halted step was not nearly so evident as he had feared it would be. His concern regarding a public exhibition of his infirmity had been for naught in this particular instance, for every eye in the church was firmly fixed upon his most beautiful daughter.
Every eye except Elizabeth's – and Kitty's, which was still fixed upon the assembly. “But Lizzy,” she persisted, “Lydia is here, and Mr. Wickham with her!”
Elizabeth's joyful smile froze. “What?!”
“There, near the back,” Kitty nodded her head.
With growing dread, Elizabeth's eyes swiftly scanned the large group of well-wishers in the crowded chapel. Could it be true? It only took a moment to see that it was. They are here! How could they do this?! There had been no warning of the Wickhams' intention to attend. Elizabeth bit her lip. Not only was it a mortifying reminder of Lydia's recent hasty marriage, but the idea of Mr. Darcy having to publicly acknowledge Wickham as part of Jane's family was something Elizabeth would have wished to avoid at all costs.
Jane glided past the row where the Wickhams sat and Elizabeth was surprised to see Lydia barely glance at the beaming bride. She foll
owed Lydia's nervous look to her husband and was shocked to find Mr. Wickham staring directly at herself. Unwilling to acknowledge the slight nod he offered, Elizabeth quickly looked away.
Unfortunately, the change in the direction of her gaze did not relieve her discomfort. Instead, it only increased tenfold as her eyes came to rest on Mr. Darcy. She had purposely avoided looking directly at him the whole morning, and particularly when he took his place next to Mr. Bingley. Looking at him now, she drew a quick, involuntary breath. His chiseled profile and striking appearance struck her with full force. He was impeccably dressed in a deep blue morning coat and light drab breeches, his jet black hair contrasting against the snowy white of his shirt and neckcloth. The painful ache in her heart that had grown more acute with every unavoidable meeting this past week stirred once more, sending her eyes to the floor. I can do this! I can! she reminded herself. Taking another deep breath, she forced her gaze back to Jane.
“Do you see them – there in the back?” Kitty exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Oh, I knew she could not Miss Jane's wedding! But I wonder that Mr. Wickham did not wear his uniform. He looks so handsome in his red coat.”
“Not now, Kitty!” whispered Elizabeth brusquely as father and daughter reached the front of the church and Jane's hand was relinquished to Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth dared a quick glance in Mr. Darcy's direction and fought back a moan. Her hopes of his not seeing the Wickhams were dashed in an instant. His stony countenance was all she needed to know that he had discovered them as well. Thankfully, Jane and Charles were oblivious to anything or anyone except each other, and the ceremony began.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony…”
As hard as she tried to follow the sacred words, they were soon overshadowed by the awfulness of the situation. Wickham is here! What could he have possibly hoped to gain? Surely he must have known Mr. Darcy would be here as well. And now what will Mr. Darcy do – what can he do? It was the worst of all possible circumstances for Mr. Darcy. For herself, his grim expression was irrefutable proof that Wickham's connection to the family would forever separate her from the one man she desired.
An overwhelming sense of loss engulfed her as the vicar's words sounded distantly in her ears. If Mr. Darcy's visits to Longbourn this past week had given her even the slightest hope for a renewal of his addresses – and reluctantly she admitted to herself that they had – she had been foolishly deceiving herself. This instance of Mr. Wickham's lack of sensibility as regarded Mr. Darcy was only the beginning, and clearly affirmed there would be no renewals of any kind.
There was nothing to be done about it now. She could only hope that the Wickhams' unexpected appearance would not spoil the day for Jane. Lydia seemed a little out of sorts, but Elizabeth was sure it was not enough to prevent her from wanting to be the center of attention on any occasion and thus she resolved to speak to Lydia privately as soon as the ceremony was over. Pushing the disturbing thoughts from her mind, she looked to Jane and Charles. Nothing would spoil this day for them if she could help it.
With a start, she found that her reflections had taken her farther away than she realized. Turning her attention back to the ceremony, she watched Charles nervously place a simple gold band on Jane's finger and repeat the sacred words she would never hear for herself.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The vicar smiled at Charles and continued in a solemn voice. “For as much as Charles Robert Bingley and Jane Marie Bennet have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together…”
Elizabeth's mind wandered again, this time with thoughts of Jane and the new life she was about to embrace. There would be no more Jane Bennet. Only Jane Bingley. For Elizabeth, there would be no more late night talks whispered beneath the covers. Only a cold, empty darkness. She would visit Jane quite often, of that she was certain. But it would never be the same between them again.
Before long, the curate finished the last prayer and invited the guests to wait for the newlyweds in the churchyard. He then asked the married couple and witnesses to sign the parish register, leading them into the vestry where the ancient, leather-bound book was kept. When it was Elizabeth's turn, she bent to add her own name as witness, squeezing back tears of joy and sadness that clouded her vision. Pen still in hand, she paused at the sight of Jane's elegantly-penned name beside that of her new husband. No, things would never be the same again.
“May I?” Mr. Darcy's voice sounded low and soft beside her.
Elizabeth jumped at his sudden nearness. “I beg your pardon?”
His amused smile brought a flush of color to her cheek. “The pen – may I have it to add my signature?”
“Of course,” she murmured quietly and held the pen out for him. As he took it, she could feel the warmth of his hand against her gloved fingers. Totally unprepared for the spark that shot through her at his touch, she jerked her hand back, rubbing it as she held it behind her back.
“If you will excuse me, I believe my family is waiting for me.” Offering a quick curtsey, Elizabeth turned and walked away without looking back. One more day! She told herself resolutely. I have only to endure this one more day and then he shall be gone. She refused to consider what lay in the days ahead when she would be left with nothing but his memory.
Elizabeth heard her mother even before she stepped from the dimness of the church into the bright morning sun. Steeling herself to face Lydia and Wickham, she made her way to the carriages that would take them to the wedding breakfast at Longbourn. She arrived just as Jane and Bingley pulled away amid cheerful shouts of “Hurrah!”
“Oh, Lizzy, there you are!” her mother cried with excitement. “Look! Our dear Lydia and Wickham have come to the wedding! What a good joke to surprise us so; but now Mr. Wickham says they cannot stay for the breakfast! They have come all this way from Newcastle and cannot stay. Did you ever hear of such a thing?”
“Alas,” Wickham offered apologetically, “we are actually travelling to the south – a pressing assignment I have been given – and have only stopped long enough for my dear wife to attend her sister's wedding. Perhaps we will be able to stay longer on our return.”
“It seems very unfortunate, indeed,” Elizabeth replied coolly.
Not really listening to her mother's chatter of gowns and guests and all it took to prepare for the wedding, Elizabeth could now see that Lydia was more than a little out of sorts. Her natural enthusiasm was diminished considerably despite the occasional smiles that seemed a little too bright, and there was something not quite right about the way Wickham kept a possessive hand on Lydia's arm.
“Surely you can take a little time for refreshment, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth urged, wanting time to speak with Lydia.
“No, I am afraid we have delayed too long already.”
“Perhaps an hour? That would not delay your journey much. I am sure Lydia would appreciate the time to see her family.”
“And yet, I must insist on our departure. Lydia understands the necessity and is quite willing to wait for our return trip. Is that not so, my love?”
“Oh, yes! George has very important business that cannot wait. He was so good to take the time to come to the wedding so that I might see you all for a moment, was he not?” Lydia's bright smile did not completely hide the hint of desperation in her eyes. “Please tell Jane I wish her every happiness and we shall see her very soon.”
Handing Lydia into the carriage, Wickham turned back with his own brilliant smile. “Well, ladies, I must bid you adieu. Mrs. Bennet, please convey my regards
to Mr. Bennet and tell him I am sorry to have missed him. I understand his health is much improved.”
“I shall, indeed, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth's mother prattled. “You are so kind to bring my dear Lydia, even for a short time. It does a mother's heart good to see her. We will look forward to a longer visit very soon!”
Elizabeth felt a curious mixture of concern and relief as she watched the Wickhams' carriage pull away. Wickham's manner had made her all the more determined to speak with Lydia and find the reason for her strange behavior. At the same time, she was grateful the visit would be delayed until after Mr. Darcy left Netherfield, for now he would be spared the discomfort of having to publicly acknowledge Mr. Wickham.
Following her mother into their own carriage, Elizabeth sat down with a silent prayer of gratitude that at least her fears of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham meeting had been for naught.
* * * *
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet stood in the foyer of Longbourn with their daughter and her new husband, greeting the seemingly endless stream of well-wishers. The house was filled to capacity and extra servants, no doubt hired to expedite the day's festivities, scurried to and fro amidst the guests. Darcy could not imagine that there was anyone in the neighborhood that had not been invited to the celebration. Mrs. Bennet beamed with all the pride and pleasure of a mother whose daughter had made an excellent match. Indeed, Jane Bennet had married well, but to Darcy's mind it was the mutual understanding and genuine affection between Bingley and his bride that made it so excellent. Something he hoped to have for himself.
His eyes strayed across the room once more to Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner, who were in earnest conversation. Just then something amusing was said between them, sending the sound of Elizabeth's enchanting laughter above the noise of the room. A pang of longing swelled in Darcy's chest and Bingley's words plucked at him. Ask her!
Perhaps Bingley was right. Now that the wedding was nearly done, she seemed less anxious, less reticent. In spite of the cool reception she had given him at every meeting since his arrival, he refused to believe she was beyond his reach, and their encounter at the parish register this morning had given him renewed hope. He knew she had felt what he did when he touched her hand.