by Meg Osborne
“WHAT A FINE DAY IT has been, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet remarked, as they waved the newly-married Colonel and Mrs Fitzwilliam off, and the last of the guests departed.
“I am so happy for Mary,” Elizabeth agreed. “And both she and Colonel Fitzwilliam seem so utterly delighted with one another. I think they shall be very content together.”
“And now there is another couple that might be happily wed.” Mr Bennet’s voice raised slightly at the end of his statement, posing it as a question.
“I do not think us so deliriously happy as this present couple, Father,” she said, carefully. “But I imagine we might strive for contentment, and that is a blessing indeed.”
“More so than certain other prospects for marriage?” He would not refer to Mr Collins by name, indeed Elizabeth sensed her father felt a deal of shame for how he had been so easily manipulated by her mother on the matter of Mr Collins.
“I much prefer it this way, Father,” she said, with a fervent nod.
“But will you be happy, Lizzy?” he pressed. “Do you -” his lips quirked. “Do you love Mr Darcy?”
“You know I have never been as romantic as Jane, or fallen in love as easily as Lydia,” she said, after a pause. “I shall confess, Father, that we do not perhaps have a romance for the ages, but we have a friendship, and that is more than many married couples might boast.”
Mr Bennet nodded, sagely, and Elizabeth felt a flash of concern in her chest. Even her own parents could not admit to a friendship, for they spent the majority of the time they did talk in argument.
“Friendship is something to be valued, indeed, but do not close yourself off to the possibility of love, Elizabeth.” Her father’s voice had grown serious, and he had grown serious with it. “Mr Darcy may have pitched marriage to you as a sensible solution to a problem, but I do not necessarily believe that is the whole truth.”
Lizzy’s heat quickened. Did her father know of Mr Darcy’s situation with Anne, with Lady de Bourgh?
“He is a canny businessman, and not free with his confidences, but I wager he does not hide his affections so readily as he might believe.”
Lizzy frowned, and was about to press her father for more, when she noticed Anne approaching to bid them farewell.
“I wish I could persuade you to come back to Rosings,” she said, pulling Lizzy into a warm embrace. “I know Mother has been so very difficult about things, but I truly believe she is softening to the idea, and if she could know you better, could know you the way I do, why, all might be different!”
“You have a great deal of faith in my ability to win over those predisposed to dislike me,” Elizabeth said, with a laugh. “But I think it is wisest I return to Hertfordshire, at least for a little while. I can go to London from there, once Mr Darcy has all the arrangements made.”
Anne nodded, but the wistful smile remained in place.
“And you must come and join us,” Elizabeth said, impulsively. “In London, I mean. Surely, if both Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, not to mention his brother, are in town you will be only too eager to spend time with them. And I myself long to see you again.”
Anne brightened at this bold compliment, and the warmth of Elizabeth’s invitation.
“Perhaps...” she mused. “I do not think Mama will be so very eager to go to London, especially with Christmas on the horizon. But I might be able to visit, at least for a short while.” She paused, evidently mulling over the idea. “There is someone else - a friend...” she trailed off, and Elizabeth smiled. Might this friend be George Martin? She would not press her friend, not here, but she felt certain she understood Anne’s dilemma. Removing to London, even for a short time, would mean leaving not only Lady de Bourgh behind, but the gentleman she desired to speak to above all others. Well, might they not correspond in London? Surely Anne would not feel the need to hide the connection, if her mother were not there to loom, disapprovingly, over the whole.
“Come to London,” Lizzy pressed her. “You might tell anyone who would wish to write to you that they can reach you at Mr Darcy’s house, then there is no need to worry.”
Anne frowned, as if Elizabeth’s words puzzled her, but before she could say anything further, Lady Catherine's voice could be heard from the doorway.
“Anne! Must we wait all day? Come, I wish to return home at once!”
Anne clasped Lizzy’s hand warmly.
“I must go. Do, do write to me Elizabeth, dear. And perhaps you are right. Perhaps I should join you in London. I will keep abreast of your plans through William, but I long to hear it from your own pen too. And even if my mother does not abide the marriage, I am utterly in favour of it. I cannot wait to have you for a cousin as well!”
With one last embrace, she departed, and Elizabeth found herself alone. She did not remain so for very long, however, for a deep voice broke through her reverie.
“Well, that is the first wedding over,” Darcy remarked, with a gruff smile.
“You almost sound as if you approve,” Lizzy teased.
“Approve of the wedding, or approve of it being over?” He raised a rakish eyebrow, and Elizabeth laughed. “I shall return to Hertfordshire tomorrow,” Darcy continued. “Charles has already invited me back to Netherfield, although I expect to be in London before the week is out. Are you certain you approve of the plan?”
“Approve of you returning to Netherfield?” Elizabeth asked, returning his teasing comment back to him. “Or approve of the plan to remove to London?”
“Either,” Darcy said, nodding in acknowledgement of her superior wit. “Both.” He fell serious. “Once we are married there is no going back,” he said, with a frown. “My intention remains the same, I ask only whether your thoughts on the matter have changed.”
Mr Bennet’s words came back to her, and Elizabeth found herself examining Mr Darcy’s face in detail. It was the same as it had always been, the same dark eyes, the same almost-scowl, yet there was something else. A softening in his expression, a light in the depths of his eyes that regarded her so intently. He does not hide his affections as readily as he believes, her father had said. Could it be that Mr Darcy loved her after all? The thought made Elizabeth's heart beat faster, and when she spoke her voice was surprisingly shy.
“My thoughts have not changed, Mr Darcy. Let us marry, and marry soon.”
The End
Suitably Wed
A Convenient Marriage Book 3
Chapter One
“Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?”
Fitzwilliam Darcy dismissed his housekeeper with a curt nod. Everything was, of course, to his satisfaction - exactly so, for his staff knew him well, and kept his London townhouse in a state of perpetual readiness for his return. They had also been warned of his approaching arrival, and so had taken extra care to ensure the property would be welcoming. He smiled, faintly, recalling the fresh bouquet of winter flowers in the parlour, and the fires burning brightly in the few rooms he most favoured: notably, the study. That had no doubt received a particular airing that very day, and the newspapers and his personal correspondence left ready for his perusal on the desk.
He waited for the door close behind him before reaching for the small pile of letters. He could identify the handwriting of his steward at Pemberley, and laid that particular missive aside, not in any mood for business at present. Of his next two, he recognised Georgiana’s elegant script, and tucked that into the pocket of his waistcoat, to read at his leisure. The third he did not immediately recognise but broke the seal to discover a short note from his cousin. Richard and Mary had reached Philip's home and would be pleased to welcome him there at any time, as soon as Darcy wished it. He cracked a wry smile, reading Richard’s true intention behind the short summons. Do come, he implored. For in visiting my brother I am facing a trial and would welcome a distraction. It was not without self-interest that his cousin inquired after the health of Miss Elizabeth, and queried any potential timeline for Darcy’s own upcoming nuptials and
the plans of their friends to be in London.
Darcy pulled a chair close to his desk, and slid his writing implements nearer, dashing off a quick, encouraging note to his cousin. He promised they would both be back in London within the week, and should Philip wish him to visit, both he and Elizabeth would be delighted to call on the Fitzwilliams at their earliest convenience. And you and Mary will both attend our wedding, I hope, so we shall see each other again very soon. He finished with a flourish, content that this promise would soothe Richard’s mood, and trusting that the newness of wedded bliss would more than make up for the trial of spending the month in such close proximity with the brother he loathed.
The first question, enquiring after Elizabeth’s health and the progress of their wedding plans, Darcy considered even after he had sealed the note and set it on a tray to one side, trusting that his valet would dispatch it before the afternoon was out.
He had left Hertfordshire that very morning, grateful that London was but half a day’s ride, and glad that he might make the journey between Bingley’s home and his own relatively quickly and painlessly. It would make organising things so much easier - not that there need be much organising. Elizabeth had stipulated that she did not wish for a lavish wedding, which he was more than happy to deliver. He had no great interest in fuss and finery, yet he was equally determined that they would not slink away to marry as if they were doing something shameful. Despite his aunt’s insistence, he would not apologise for his actions, nor for his desire to marry Elizabeth and not Anne. It would enable Elizabeth an escape from an impossible marriage, and - he could confess the truth to himself, in the silence and solitude of his own study - he loved her, more than he had ever loved any woman before. He could not quite believe how swiftly the feeling had overtaken him but he would continue to swallow it and conceal it from all view. He knew, if he had spoken to her of his esteem it would not have resulted in an engagement, but a refusal, for she would surely doubt his feelings, if not despise him for them. But the simplicity of a convenient marriage, when it would serve them both so amiably, could not be despaired of. She had accepted, and he trusted that she would grow to love him in time. That was a challenge he would happily accept, for the rest of his days, if he might one day win her heart as well as her mind.
Lost in a happy daydream of what life might be like once they were married, Darcy did not hear the knock on his door, so that it took a second and a third before he stirred, and welcomed whoever knocked with a muttered: “Come!”
“Good morning, sir. A visitor.” His servant bowed.
“Here?” Darcy’s eyebrows raised. Who on earth knew him to be at home today? He had told nobody, save for Charles. Even Elizabeth was only aware that he would be travelling between and betwixt London and Hertfordshire on occasion, but he had not thought it necessary to give her exact dates and times when he was himself unsure of them.
“Who?”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“Already?” Darcy could barely keep the amused grin from his features, as he hurried to join his cousin in the parlour. “Richard!” he accosted him. “How came you to know I was here?”
“I called on the off-chance you might be,” Richard said. “It is not my first visit to your house this week,” he admitted, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Now, cousin, I know there are arrangements to be made, and as my dear wife seems perfectly content with her new sister, and my brother cannot be pressed to discuss a thing beyond business, if he is content to discuss a thing at all, I find myself utterly without occupation. Put me to what needs doing. I am at your service!”
“CHARLOTTE, HOW GOOD it is to see you again!” Elizabeth’s friend had called at Longbourn and managed, with a little persuasion, to extract Elizabeth from the raucous bosom of her family on the promise of a walk to Meryton. Jane could not be pressed into joining them, for she was waiting on a very important communique from Netherfield, and thus would not surrender her position in the window for even a moment.
“And you, Lizzy.” Charlotte’s voice was strained, and the smile she offered her friend was a tentative one. “I hear I must offer you congratulations.”
Lizzy smiled.
“Thank you. I trust you are not too scandalised by the news?”
“Scandalised?” Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Why ever would I be that? Surprised, I will allow. I had no notion of you sharing an affection with Mr Darcy. In fact, I laboured under the impression that your feelings for him were quite different.”
Elizabeth laughed, unable to deny the truth of her friend’s comment.
“What must have occurred in Kent for your feelings to have undergone so fundamental a shift?” Charlotte asked. “I have been patient until now, but Lizzy, you must put me out of my misery and tell me!”
Elizabeth explained a little of the kindness Mr Darcy had shown her on arriving in Kent, how they had found some commonality of opinion that was as much a surprise to Elizabeth as it was to her friend.
“And he offered me a way out,” she confided, slowing to a stop. She took Charlotte’s hand in both of hers. “Charlotte, I was suitably chastened by your words to me in Meryton shortly before Mary’s engagement. I feared you were right, and I was being abominably selfish in refusing Mr Collins. Worse still: I was not willing to surrender my future on account that my family might be shielded from poverty. Does that make me a terrible person?”
Charlotte shook her head, patiently.
“Lizzy, you must permit me to apologise. I spoke quite out of turn to you that day. It was no place of mine to interfere in your business, nor to lecture you on the best course of action.” She shrugged, self-deprecatingly. “As you can see I am certainly no expert in matters of the heart...or of matrimony. I confess I spoke to you out of my own fears. How you could refuse a man seeking to marry you, I could not imagine, never having had so much as an offer myself.”
This sobered Elizabeth, and her excitement over her own rapidly approaching wedding softened slightly, as she acknowledged her friend’s sad smile.
“But -”
“You need not pander to my pride, Lizzy. I am aware my situation is not uncommon, nor anything to be rejoiced in. If I were to receive an offer of marriage, I should accept it straight away, fearing all the while that I might never have another. You do not share my fate, as is proven by Mr Darcy’s proposal. Dear Lizzy, I wish you every happiness. And see, you were right after all: you might marry for love, and still, all will be well. I am genuinely happy for you.”
“Yes.” Lizzy’s face fell. She had not confided quite all to her friend, and now, judging from Charlotte’s assessment of her own fortune, felt that she must.
“Charlotte, I must confess something more to you. Mr Darcy and I do not marry for love: that is, it is not as straightforward as that.”
“Oh?” Charlotte waited patiently for her friend to continue, as the two young ladies began to walk once more in the direction of Meryton.
“His proposal was not the sweeping romance you might imagine, nor was it even uttered so fervently as poor Mr Collins’.” Lizzy cringed slightly, remembering the way her cousin had clasped tight hold of her arm, and bid her listen when she strove to keep him from uttering the words they would both immediately come to regret. “In fact, he terms it a “business arrangement”.
Charlotte frowned.
“So, you see, you also were proved right. Marriage cannot be merely about love. We must be pragmatic, all of us, and I feel Mr Darcy quite the most pragmatic man I have ever met.” She uttered this with a rueful laugh, but Charlotte must have read some disappointment in her comment, for she reached a consoling hand out to her friend.
“Do you not love him?”
“I-” Elizabeth faltered. “I cannot say.” She paused, wishing she could permit her friend to see inside her heart and her mind that she might draw her own conclusions and illuminate Elizabeth, for she, who had always known herself so well, could scarcely detect what her true feelings were for her fiancé
. “I like him. I care for him as a friend. Yet –” She shook her head. “It hardly matters whether I love him or not, he has made it plain that our marriage is merely one of convenience - of benefit to us both.”
“I see.” Charlotte nodded, slowly. “And what benefit does Mr Darcy receive from such a match? Forgive me, dear, I do not mean to speak disparagingly of you or your family, you know I value you so very highly. But did Mr Darcy himself not indicate some insurmountable differences between you upon your first coming to his notice?”
This mention of that very first snub caused Elizabeth to blush, and then to laugh, for she recalled how bitterly she had nursed her grudge against Darcy for the comment, and how freely she dismissed it now.
“I dare say he is right, for his aunt certainly possesses the same opinion. Yet he, himself, concedes that we are not so unlike that we might not move forward together. He has offered me a far preferable alternative to marrying Mr Collins: where we would have spent eternity annoying each other, I am quite certain. And in marrying me, he frees his cousin: for Lady Catherine would have him marry her daughter, though they are quite ill-suited to one another and -” Lizzy lowered her voice, though the road was deserted she still feared being overheard. “I have reason to believe that Anne loves another, and she would rue the marriage with Mr Darcy for keeping her from her true love. You and I may not see true love ourselves, Charlotte, but that need not keep us from encouraging it in others.” She looped her arm through her friend’s and pulled her into a speedier walk. “But come, you must tell me of all I have missed. I will be leaving Hertfordshire again soon - too soon, surely, to catch up with everybody, so I will trust you to keep me appraised of all that has happened in the past month. How is Miss Bingley?” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of Caroline Bingley, who she had yet to reunite with and could only imagine the reception she would receive when Caroline heard that it was Elizabeth, and not she, who had secured Mr Darcy’s hand.