by Meg Osborne
“Do you regret your acceptance?” Mr Darcy asked, seeing her face fall. “It is not too late, if you do -”
“I do not,” she said, quietly, firmly. “I think - I think we might manage to be happy tougher, Mr Darcy.”
“As do I, Miss Elizabeth.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Here they are!”
Mary had been haunting the front windows of Rosings, surprisingly eager to spot the advance of the carriage that would bring her family to Kent.
“It has felt like an age since last we saw them,” she remarked to Richard, who sat with her, affecting to read, but in truth enjoying the quiet morning with his bride-to-be.
“It may as well have been an age,” he said, with a smile. “So much has happened.
He was right: Mary had made the final arrangements for their wedding, which would take place the very next morning, and Richard had made plans to visit his brother, Philip, in London, shortly afterwards. Mr Fitzwilliam had business in town, he said, and would be delighted to host the newlyweds at his house for a visit.
“Delighted to pass judgment,” Richard had remarked, with a frown. He had not shown Mary the letter, but folded it and shoved it, unceremoniously, into his pocket.
The carriage rumbled to a stop, and Kitty and Lydia were the first to burst from its dark interior, scarcely waiting for their footman to open the door.
“Elizabeth ought to be here as well,” Mary said, wringing her hands. “They will surely wish to see her.”
“And they will.” Richard hauled himself to his feet and crossed to her side, taking her hands in his and stilling her anxious fidgeting with a smile. “But they will, without doubt, be eager to see you too.”
The door to the parlour flew open, as if to illustrate the truth of Richard's words.
“Where is Mary?” Lydia demanded. “Oh, look! You are here waiting to greet us, just as you ought!” She hurried forward and pulled Mary into a not-entirely-gentle embrace. After a moment too long for comfort, she was released, and Lydia turned a wicked grin toward Richard.
“Now, Colonel Fitzwilliam, might I warrant an affectionate greeting from you, too? We are to be related, after all.”
“Indeed we are, Miss Lydia, and I rejoice at it, but if you will excuse me I must ensure your mother and father are in need of no assistance.”
Bowing in a way that caused first Lydia and then Kitty, who had followed close on her sister’s heels, to giggle, he departed.
Mary let out a breath that she had not been aware of holding, and gestured for her sisters to join her in sitting.
“Oh, I have missed you both.” It was not a lie - whilst she had often despaired of her sisters’ rowdy behaviour at Longbourn, Rosings had been so quiet of late as to be a trial to Mary’s nerves, particularly after Lady Catherine's self-imposed exile.
The door opened again, admitting Mrs Bennet, on Richard's arm, and closely followed by Mr Bennet, accompanying Jane and Anne, who offered profuse apologies for her mother’s present absence on account of a headache.
“She is not too unwell, I hope?” Jane asked, her voice filled with concern. “Perhaps we ought to call another time instead?”
Before Anne could answer, Mrs Bennet had sallied forth.
“Nonsense, Jane! I could not dream of not seeing Mary before her wedding, and we have only today - for tomorrow we shall return to Longbourn as soon as the wedding is over.” She cast a pointed glare at her husband that suggested she did not approve of the fleeting nature of their visit but had, in this instance, been overruled.
“Of course you must stay,” Anne insisted, with a warm smile. “I am sure Mama will join us shortly.”
“Mary.” Mrs Bennet settled herself in a comfortable chair and beckoned her daughter over to her. “How do you fare, dear? And Colonel Fitzwilliam, you look well. Are you excited for tomorrow?” Her voice took on a teasing, confidential tone that Mary could not recall her mother ever applying to her before that afternoon.
“Very much, Mrs Bennet. And your presence ensures the day will be all the more special.”
“Will your own family not be in attendance?” Mrs Bennet asked Richard, laughing apologetically. “Beyond your aunt and cousin, of course.”
“And Mr Darcy,” Lydia piped up. “Is he not with you?”
“Yes, and where has Elizabeth got to?” Jane asked, a worried frown crossing her face.
“Perhaps they are together!” Lizzy said, with a sly laugh.
“They are walking in the grounds,” Anne said, lightly. “But we expect their return before long.”
Mrs Bennet’s mouth fell open in surprise, and before Mary could think of something to say, Richard threw himself into the breach.
“It will be a small wedding, Mrs Bennet, for as I am sure you will appreciate, we are eager to marry and not delay in order to accommodate the arrival of more guests. I am conscious of not outstaying our welcome in Kent, with everything that has happened - and so we will go on to London directly.” He paused and Mary lifted her eyes to his, sending him a smile that she hoped was encouraging. It must have been, for he continued speaking a moment later.
“My brother will be in London, and we shall stay with him there. It is quite some time since we were together.”
This was delivered very stiffly and Lydia opened her mouth to quiz Richard further on his mysterious brother, sensing some delicious gossip, but before she could say a word, the door opened and Elizabeth and Mr Darcy walked in.
“I thought I heard voices!” Lizzy remarked, sweeping a tentative glance around her family before returning to Mary.
“Lizzy!” Jane rose and greeted her sister with a warm embrace. “How are you?” She peered behind her. “And Mr Darcy, how nice to see you once more.”
“And I you, Miss Bennet. I trust Hertfordshire is as we left it?”
They fell to a brief discussion of Netherfield and its tenants, but Mary could scarcely tear her eyes away from Elizabeth's. After a moment, Richard cleared his throat and turned all attention to his cousin.
“Actually, this is perhaps as good a time as any, Darcy. You must tell Elizabeth's family your news.”
Acknowledging his cousin withal deep bow, Darcy nodded. Glancing at Elizabeth for reassurance in a way Mary found endearing, he spoke, quietly, addressing the room with confidence.
“My cousin is quite right, for we ought not to keep it a secret, and it is bound to be talked of when my aunt joins us.” A pause. “I have asked Miss Elizabeth to marry me, and am delighted to say that she has accepted. We shall be wed before the month is out.”
“BUT - LIZZY, WHEN DID this happen? How?” Mrs Bennet was in utter shock, and bid the news be relayed at least three times before she accepted its truth.
“Mr Bennet!” She turned, accusing, to her husband. “You do not seem in the least bit surprised. It cannot be you had some notion of such a thing?”
“I confess complete ignorance, my dear,” Mr Bennet replied, with a sanguine glance at Darcy. “Yet even you must acknowledge how preferable Mr Dray shall be for a son-in-law than Mr Collins.”
“Oh! Lizzy!” This provoked a still deeper outpouring of affection from mother to daughter, and Elizabeth was swept up in an embrace from her mother which seemed, to Darcy, practically inescapable.
He felt momentarily guilty that their announcement had shifted the focus of familial attention off Mary to her sister, but one glance at how contentedly Mary and Richard sat, watching the melodrama unfold around Elizabeth reassured him that they did not regret no longer being the centrepiece.
There was the sound of a door closing, and heavy footsteps on the stairs announced Lady Catherine’s intent to join her guests. Darcy’s gaze flew to his cousins - first Richard, then Anne, who stood and made for the door.
“Mama!” she cried, as Lady Catherine drew within sight of the hall. “Do come and join us! The Bennets are here.”
“I gathered as much,” Lady Catherine said, coolly. “Was not their arrangement
to call at two o’clock?”
“It is barely a quarter of an hour after, Aunt,” Darcy put in. “And they have been seated some time already. We did not wish to disturb -”
“I am well able to tell the time, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine said, with a dismissive sniff. “Now, Mary, dear.” She turned directly to the one Bennet daughter she thought worthy of her attention. “Introduce me to your family. My, my. I had forgotten you had quite so many sisters.”
Mary rattled off quick introductions, as politely as she might, and Darcy was relieved to see both the youngest Miss Bennets and Mrs Bennet comport themselves with due deference sure to win over his aunt. She claimed her usual seat as her own, so that the room took on a palatial air, as if Lady Catherine were holding court, and the Bennets all paying tribute.
“We were just rejoicing at the news, Lady Catherine,” Mrs Bennet simpered. “My dear Elizabeth is to marry your other nephew, Mr Darcy. How wonderful!”
“Indeed.” Lady Catherine’s voice dripped with disdain, but Mrs Bennet either did not, or chose not to, notice.
Richard took a seat beside his aunt and did his best to distract her, describing his plans to visit London with Mary soon after their wedding, and lodge with Philip.
“Philip!” Lady Catherine cheered considerably at the mention of this third, absent, nephew. “Oh, my dear departed brother’s eldest son. Why, it has been a great many months since I saw him last. Tell me, Richard, is he well? And darling Louisa, how is she?”
Richard assured her of their health, asserting that he, himself, was not in close contact with his brother either. This was muttered through clenched teeth, and Darcy felt a flare of sympathy for his cousin. Richard's brother was a decade older than either of them, and had considered his younger cousins far beyond his notice. Darcy had never been fond of the man, even in his youth, and, by all accounts, his pride and self-importance had only grown with age. Relations between the brothers had been strained indeed, particularly upon Richard’s insistence on joining the military. Philip had made no secret of the expectation he had that Richard would roundly fail at this attempt at a career. In fact, his cousin had outstripped all of their expectations and succeeded well enough to amass a small fortune and the respect of his contemporaries. Darcy did not doubt this, along with his sweet-natured new wife, would do a great deal to repair the rift between the brothers.
“If you are to be in London, Richard, perhaps Elizabeth and I might join you there.”
This remark, made solely between the two cousins had the unfortunate fate of being made during a momentary lull in conversation, so that it was given rather more importance than it deserved.
“Oh yes, Mr Darcy!” Mrs Bennet’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Where do you intend on marrying? Perhaps, if you were to procure a special licence -”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, pointedly silencing her mother’s commentary.
“I had intended on our marrying at Pemberley,” Darcy began, with a glance towards Elizabeth. “But perhaps London would suit just as well. What do you say, Elizabeth?”
“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze carefully. Darcy could well read her intention: if their marriage was one of convenience, so much the better it not be a grand affair.
“Oh,” Mrs Bennet sighed, a little put out at the notion of not being invited to witness the wedding at the estate of Pemberley she had heard - and partaken in - so much speculation about. “It will be a shame not to see your estate, Mr Darcy.”
“No doubt you will be invited there in time, Mrs Bennet,” Lady Catherine said, drily. “Now that your daughter will attempt to be mistress of it.” She sniffed, as if to indicate that the idea was a ridiculous one.
“I am sure Lizzy will take to her new role with aplomb,” Jane said, loyally, winning for a wrathful glare for herself from Darcy’s aunt.
“I will make arrangements as soon as tomorrow concludes,” Darcy said.
“Both my cousins in London!” Anne said, clapping her hands in an attempt to lift the tension that had fallen on the room due, in large part, to Lady Catherine's tangible disappointment at Darcy and Elizabeth's engagement. “How wonderful it will be to have you so near. Perhaps we might visit, Mama?” This request was offered with caution, but not, Darcy was surprised to see, dismissed out of hand.
“Perhaps,” Lady Catherine said. “Mrs Bennet,” she turned toward Elizabeth's mother. “Where are you staying in Hunsford? I trust you appreciate the beauty of the little parish?”
The conversation moved on, and Darcy allowed himself the liberty of relaxing, just a fraction. He met Anne's eyes, and was surprised to see them sparkling with excitement. Evidently, her wish to visit London was not merely offered out of solidarity with her cousin. In that case, dear Anne, you will come and stay in my home for as long as we may have you. Lady Catherine might object to his marrying Elizabeth, but if her daughter did not, then surely in time his aunt would relent.
Chapter Sixteen
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was nervous. It was not an emotion he was overly familiar with, having to delve back into this childhood for the last time he felt such an overwhelming sense of anxiety as he felt at present.
“Cheer up,” Darcy said. This, at least, had the impact of making Richard laugh, for to hear such an instruction from the lips of his notoriously bad-tempered cousin was amusing indeed, and served to force his nerves to recede into the background.
“I might offer you the same advice,” he responded, raising his eyebrows.
“It is not my wedding day,” Darcy countered. “Nobody cares whether I am happy or not. I rather think it tradition for the groom to at least assume the posture of excitement, contentment, joy, even.”
“Joy? Well, if that is the promised state we shall find you in upon your wedding day, cousin, I shall very much look forward to attending.” Richard fumbled with his cravat which, at that moment, felt so very tight as to be constricting the amount of air able to reach his lungs.
“You really are nervous.” Darcy was incredulous. “Wonders will never cease. If I could not see you with my own eyes I should scarcely credit it.”
“No more should you,” Richard muttered. “Or mention it. To anyone. Ever.” He fidgeted where he stood, rubbing damp palms down the tops of his thighs. “Is it time?”
“Almost.”
“Good.”
He sat, momentarily, in the pew next to Darcy, then stood, unable to be still even for this short time. He glanced out over the crowd - small, by necessity, but providing a backdrop of murmured conversation that ought to have been comforting, and instead served to set Richard's nerves still more on edge.
“Well,” Darcy hauled himself to his feet. “We might as well stand.” He nodded, catching the eye of Mr Collins, who stepped forward to meet them.
“Good morning, gentleman,” he said, with a grim smile at Darcy that broadened into something approaching genuine friendliness toward Richard. Idly, he wondered if Collins begrudged his cousin for securing Elizabeth's hand, when he had proposed first. Surely even he acknowledges they are better suited, he thought, then wrestled his thoughts into line. It would do him no favours to attempt to distract himself from his own future by considering the fate of Fitzwilliam Darcy. A sound by the window caught Mr Collins' ear, and he turned away momentarily. “Ah, they are arriving.” He guided Richard and Darcy to where they should stand, ready for the arrival of the bridal party. Mary had wished for no attendants beyond her father, confessing that she should not like to choose from her sisters and certainly did not wish all four of them to be part of the procession. They had travelled together, though, and the sudden explosion of giggling and whispered conversation suggested to Richard, without turning to confirm his suspicions, that Lydia and Kitty had arrived with their mother, with Jane and Elizabeth in tow. Darcy turned, and nodded, which settled Richard's nerves.
“I shan’t ask you if you wish to change your mind,” Darcy remarked, under his breath.
“You already
know the answer.” Richard smiled. “I am as sure of this as I have ever been of anything.”
Conversations fell away to an expectant hush, and then, and only then, Richard risked a glance behind him. His smile grew wider as he saw Mary walking on her father’s arm, in a pretty white gown that complimented her dark hair and eyes. She returned his smile, shyly, and in an impossibly short time was standing by his side. Mr Bennet, too, looked utterly delighted by the happy couple, retreating contentedly to his own pew as soon as Mr Collins dismissed him.
Even Mr Collins' monotone voice could not detract from Richard's happiness. He knew the words well, felt certain that they were burned into the brain of any man who had ever attended a wedding, although he reasoned it was rather different, when the wedding one heard them at was one's own. Even so, he needed no prompting to offer his “I will”, and breathed a sigh of relief when Mary's accompanying whisper followed.
Almost before it began, the wedding was over, and the happy crowd made for a local inn. It had been decided, at Richard’s insistence, that the wedding breakfast should take place in Hunsford, rather than returning en masse to Rosings, and he had been even more determined to stick to his plan once Darcy and Elizabeth's engagement had been announced. Lady Catherine had at least consented to attend their wedding, and had clasped Mary so warmly that Richard had been touched to see how expertly she had won his crotchety aunt to her side.
The room was filled with good food, laughter and conversation, and Richard felt his nerves utterly at peace. He was surrounded by friends and family, and with his new bride by his side. He could want for nothing more.