A Convenient Marriage Volume 1

by Meg Osborne

  “Yes, Mama,” Lizzy said, patiently. “We were sure last evening, when we sealed the trunks, and sure again this morning when you asked us at breakfast, and we remain utterly, completely sure now that nothing we require has managed to worm its way out of our sealed cases to leave us mourning its loss once we reach London.”

  “In any case,” Lydia piped up, trailing after the party with Kitty in tow. “They are to be in London, Mama. Surely they can replace anything they find need of.” She lifted her nose into the air. “In fact, I do not see why you must take anything with you at all, Lizzy. Surely Mr Darcy is wealthy enough to afford for you to purchase an entirely new trousseau.”

  “Wealthy enough,” Lizzy acknowledged. “And sensible enough not to suggest it. My belongings will suit me just fine, Miss Avarice.” She tweaked Lydia’s hair playfully, before pulling her younger sisters into an embrace. “Please do not torment Father too much!” she muttered into their hair.

  “Torment?” Kitty asked, looking hurt.

  “You know he does not manage your excitement well,” Jane said, patting Mr Bennet warmly on the arm.

  “And excitement I shall have!” he said, looking wearily from his two eldest daughters to his two youngest. “When we follow you to London tomorrow.”

  “I still do not see why we cannot all go together,” Mrs Bennet complained. “It will be of no consequence to my brother, I am sure...”

  “My dear Mrs Bennet, we agreed this was much the best way to manage the journey. After all, you could not possibly wish to curtail your own luggage for the sake of your daughters!” His eyes twinkled. “No, this way we might all travel in comfort.” A whispered exchange between Lydia and Kitty escalated into a frenzy of shrieks, and he sighed. “Relative comfort, at any rate. Jane, dear, be good, and hopefully, some time in the busyness of London will restore a little colour to your cheeks. Now, my Lizzy, you must say goodbye properly, for I am losing you altogether!”

  Lizzy felt herself pressed into a warm embrace, and breathed in the familiar scent of her father’s jacket.

  “Not losing me, Father!” she admonished. “For I shall still write regularly and ask for you to do the same. However else am I to receive a sensible, ordered account of life at Longbourn?”

  Mrs Bennet reached out her handkerchief to swat at her daughter for this cheeky sentiment, but did not counter it.

  A few embraces, a few more tears, and Jane and Lizzy were bundled into their carriage and finally on their way to London.

  “There!” Elizabeth said, leaning back into the plush interior of the carriage. “We are on our way at last. I felt certain we would never leave!”

  “I am not sorry to bid Longbourn goodbye for a few weeks,” Jane confessed, with a weary sigh. “These have been long days, losing first Mary and now you.” Her pale blue eyes filled with tears, until Lizzy reached forward and poked her in the side.

  “Do not get emotional with me now, dear!” she cautioned. “You must think of this as a jolly adventure we are going on, for I certainly intend to. London! What fun we shall have.”

  “And you married, and keeping house - a townhouse - for Mr Darcy no less!” Jane’s tears melted away and an amused smile crept onto her face. “Yes, I think that shall be fun indeed to observe. Have you enlightened him to your complete inability to keep time when there is a particularly interesting chapter of a book to hand?”

  Elizabeth ignored this teasing, pleased only to see Jane a little more like herself with every mile that passed between them and a certain house three miles further still from Longbourn. She had not circled back to the topic of Mr Bingley, although she was biding her time until she could. If only she might think of a way to bring his name into conversation without upsetting Jane further, and determine what had happened between the pair to so disastrously separate them.

  She turned towards the window, content to watch the changing scenery as they headed into Hertfordshire and thence towards London and ponder a little more on the problem of Mr Bingley. If he intended to avoid Jane in removing to London then he is sadly mistaken! she thought, already imagining an evening at Darcy's townhouse where she might host a dinner and invite both Mr Bingley and her sister. How pretty my sister looks in the firelight, Mr Bingley, do not you agree? She would lead the conversation, recall their shared meetings, perhaps even orchestrate that they dance once more - for it was in dancing that Jane first secured Mr Bingley’s heart. Surely dancing would secure it once more!

  “I hope you will stay with me after the wedding,” Lizzy said, turning towards Jane once more.

  “If you wish it,” Jane said, placidly. “And if Mr Darcy is agreeable to the suggestion.”

  “Of course he will be!” Lizzy was indignant at the suggestion that Darcy would not welcome her sisters as if they were his own. In fact, she wished he would invite his sister to join them too, for to have heard of Georgiana only by name piqued her curiosity on a near-daily basis. He suggested that she was better suited to remain where she was, and Lizzy would not press her to join them in London before she was ready. We shall all be together at Pemberley, in the new year was all he would be drawn upon, and even that was muttered with some frustration at their last meeting. Lizzy’s smile faded a fraction. It had been Lydia’s mention of Mr Wickham that had soured Darcy’s mood. Lizzy recalled the man herself, remembered meeting him as they passed on the street. He had called them friends, but it had been apparent that any affection between them was one-sided, not shared by either Mr Darcy or, indeed, by Colonel Fitzwilliam. Knowing what she did of the two cousins, Lizzy was rather minded to take their side on the matter, particularly if Wickham’s only defender was Lydia, who thought any man worthy of esteem if he had five pounds to his name and a rakish grin. Lizzy drew a breath. She was not unhappy to hear the man was to be in London, if it kept him out of Hertfordshire. There were plenty enough young men in the regiment for Lydia to think herself in love with, she did not need one already proven to be a trouble-maker. In any case, London was large and busy and Lizzy did not think it at all likely their paths would cross with this Mr Wickham. Particularly not if Darcy was predisposed to avoid him.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jane asked, summoning Lizzy out of her reverie. “You look serious all of a sudden. I hope you are not unhappy that the day is here, and so quickly?”

  “Indeed not,” Lizzy said, replacing her frown with a smile. “I am only sorry that you shall not be standing beside me, marrying your Mr Bingley.”

  Jane’s eyes widened momentarily at the mention of his name, but Lizzy was committed. Now that the subject was broached, she might as well say her piece.

  “I wish you would not consider him lost to you, Jane. Neither of you has even spoken. Surely there is nothing more than a misunderstanding that one conversation might put right.”

  “Ordinarily I would agree with you, Lizzy,” Jane said. “But in this case, I must confess my disbelief. If things could be mended so easily, if it really would take but one conversation to repair whatever has happened to part us, then why is Mr Bingley so determined to avoid having it?”

  Why indeed? Lizzy thought, all of her affection for Mr Bingley faltering. She had thought him kind, and assumed his interest in her sister to be entirely genuine. She had even encouraged Jane to pursue it, pressing her sister into confessing “love” where Jane would herself only have mentioned “like”, suggesting Charles Bingley’s worth went far beyond “agreeable”, and claiming him to be just the kind of friendly, charming young man she would have created for her sister herself, had she been given the power to do so. That he could break her heart so cruelly, and without any explanation? Lizzy balled her hands into fists. It was unconscionable. Unforgivable. Her sly plan to reunite the pair crumbled to dust. No, Charles Bingley did not deserve her sister’s affections, nor would she play any part in bringing them together once more. Instead, she would find Jane someone new, someone entirely better than Charles Bingley could ever be.

  Chapter Five

/>   “Mary!”

  “Lizzy! Jane!”

  Mary threw herself into her sisters’ arms as if they had been separated for months, rather than days, and Elizabeth was pleased to see the distracted, anxious look finally receding from Jane’s face as she chattered happily with Mary, learning all she could about how her sister was adjusting to married life, and whether they were well settled with Colonel Fitzwilliam’s brother and sister-in-law.

  The night before Darcy and Elizabeth’s wedding, in a fit of hospitality, Mr Philip Fitzwilliam had thrown open the doors to his home, inviting not only Darcy, his own cousin, but the entire Bennet clan who found themselves in London for the nuptials. He even extended his invitation to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and so the party gathered around the dining table was a loud, boisterous one. Richard could neither understand nor explain his brother’s sudden desire to be hospitable, but he was evidently pleased to see so many friendly faces warming the usually cold threshold of the Fitzwilliams’ house.

  “I credit this as being Mary’s doing,” he confided to Elizabeth, watching with delight the way Mary sought to introduce Jane to her new sister-in-law and pleased to see the usually superior Louisa smiling and chatting as if the three were old friends rather than brand new acquaintances. “My brother would certainly not have been so enthusiastic, were I here alone.”

  “Not even for the cousin you share?” Elizabeth asked, glancing over to where Mr Darcy and Mr Fitzwilliam spoke, and noting the stilted nature of their conversation reflected in their stiff postures. The two were not at all alike to look at, indeed, Elizabeth could trace more likeness between Darcy and the gentleman beside her than she could between the Fitzwilliam brothers.

  “Alas, my brother has never been entirely fond of family connections. I expect it is merely due to his age: for he is above a decade older than me, and we were rarely together when I was growing up.”

  “Still, it is very generous of him to invite us all to dine here before the wedding,” Elizabeth acknowledged.

  “Kind, yes,” Richard said, shortly. He lowered his voice, and the merest hint of a wry smile coloured his features. “I am sure he has his reasons for doing so. Whether or not we are ever party to them is a different matter altogether.” He lifted his drink to his lips. “But, Miss Elizabeth, you must think me incredibly rude for dominating the conversation with my own worries. Tell me all about the plans for the wedding.”

  Elizabeth laughed, herself.

  “And what can I tell you that you do not already know? For Mr Darcy told me of your assistance to him in making all the arrangements.”

  “Indeed, it was a pleasure to be a help to the two people who so ably assisted in my own marriage,” he said, saluting Darcy across the room with his cup. Darcy caught the motion, and excused himself from his cousins’ clutches, winding past the gaggle of Bennets and Gardiners to the quiet corner that housed Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  “I see you have found the only sensible arena for conversation in the place,” he remarked.

  “I thank you for crediting me with sense!” Richard said.

  “Ah, a notion of which I must disabuse you of immediately, cousin, for I directed my comment to you: in conversing with my dear Elizabeth, you have found quite the most sensible lady in the room to share a quiet word with.”

  Everybody laughed at this disingenuous compliment, and Elizabeth felt heat rush to her cheeks in hearing herself thus mentioned. My dear Elizabeth. It was not the first time Darcy had referred to her thus, but there was something in his tone of voice, some ease or familiarity that had been lacking in his previous forms of address. He might still insist, when they were alone together, that their marriage was one of friends only, but she began to detect the merest hint, here and there, of the true nature of his feelings towards her, and she could only admit she liked it.

  “Richard!” Mary’s voice broke through the quiet, summoning him to clarify some point of interest between her sister and Louisa, and with an apologetic nod towards his companions, he excused himself.

  “And so the day is almost here!” Darcy said, sliding into the place Richard had vacated. “Although I confess I shall not relax until it is over.”

  “Nor I!” Elizabeth agreed. Despite nursing her own secret suspicions that Darcy’s true feelings for her might echo her own, she was still plagued by doubts that would not permit her to speak of it aloud. They had agreed to marry for the most formal and pragmatic of reasons, she did not wish to upset the applecart by declaring feelings she was as yet not entirely certain he returned. The arrangement, indeed, their entire engagement, felt precarious and she would not relax until the matter was settled before God on the morrow. That it would be a small wedding, conducted in the sight of only those present here this evening, helped settle her anxieties a little.

  “What a pity your sister could not join us,” she mused, watching the interaction of Mary and Jane with Louisa and wondering, idly, how Georgiana would fare in such a situation.

  “Alas, it could not be changed,” Darcy said, gruffly. “But you will see her before long, for she will join us at Pemberley in the new year.”

  “I look forward to it,” Elizabeth said, although she was not entirely truthful. She was a little afraid of meeting Georgiana Darcy for the first time, fearful that she would see through the charade entirely, and despise Elizabeth for marrying her brother under false pretences. Or will her presence force us to be truthful at last? she wondered.

  Darcy appeared preoccupied: he had not noticed the note of anxiety that rang in Elizabeth’s words, and for that she was grateful.

  “Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet’s voice rose above the volume of conversation and tugged at Elizabeth’s attention, until both she and Mr Darcy looked over.

  “Lizzy!” Mrs Bennet gestured towards her daughter with a wave. “Come, dear, and tell your aunt a little more of your plans for the future. Mr Darcy, you must join us too, for we are eager to hear more of Pemberley.”

  Exchanging a look of humorous forbearance, Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and the two crossed the room in perfect synchronicity to join her family.

  If my family have not failed to welcome Mr Darcy, and to rejoice in our connection how can I persist in fearing my fate in the hands of his sister? Surely she will be every bit as warm and welcoming to me. The words were true, yet they did not entirely erase the slight sense of foreboding she felt, and she was forced to suppress it, focusing instead on the immediate present, listening with interest to her soon-to-be husband describing the estate he loved, that would soon be her own to enjoy, whatever the opinion of his sister.

  THEIR EVENING’S REUNION had rendered everyone so agreeably disposed to one another that on the following morning, Darcy’s guests arrived so bright and early to the house for the wedding that even he could not fault Mr Fitzwilliam's wisdom. He was relieved not to have had the task of hosting a dinner the evening before the wedding, so that he could come to the day clear-headed and alert, for it was not without some trepidation he heard Mrs Bennet's loud exclamations over the size of the property, its elegant interior, its location. “Why, it might even be more appropriate than Pemberley, for how pleasant it has been to all be here together!” Darcy exchanged a glance with his cousin, as both men waited patiently for the wedding party to arrive.

  “You seem remarkably calm, cousin,” Richard said, taking his place beside Darcy in a reflection of his own wedding, which had so recently taken place.

  “Compared to you, you mean?” Darcy quipped. “And what reason do I have not to be calm?”

  “You do not expect Aunt Catherine to come thundering in, demanding the wedding be stopped with all urgency?”

  “Not unless you received a different communication than I did?” Darcy tapped his breast-pocket, which held two letters which had arrived the previous day. One was from Georgiana, scolding him for not having the patience to wait until reaching Pemberley to marry, and in the same breath rejoicing at his good fortune and declaring her delight a
t the news and her eagerness to meet her new sister. The second was penned in Anne’s careful hand, politely refusing the invitation he had extended to both she and Lady Catherine to attend the wedding. She explained that her mother was, unfortunately, suffering from the effects of the season and had taken to her bed, but that she, Anne, would be most delighted to visit the new Mr and Mrs Darcy at their first available opportunity, if he might only write by return to advise her of the date. He had already dashed off a brief note inviting her to come as soon as she wished, for Elizabeth’s family would return to Hertfordshire the very next day, taking their relatives the Gardiners with them for an extended winter holiday, and he feared for Elizabeth’s spirits, being so suddenly alone. Mary and Richard would stay, he knew, and he felt sure that Jane, too, might be pressed into accompanying her sister, but he was certain that Anne’s company would be a most welcome addition to the party.

  “I feel sure we are safe, Richard, for she could not separate us at Rosings, and here I have the advantage.” He grinned. “It is my house, after all.”

  “And what a fine house it is too!” Richard remarked, affecting a tone of voice not unlike Mrs Bennet’s, which could still be heard, echoing down the corridor.

  “You have been married so short a time and already you seek to undermine your mother-in-law?” Darcy shook his head. “Such shocking behaviour, and from a colonel in the regiment.”

  “Former colonel,” Richard reminded him. “Which position is not unlike another of our acquaintances, albeit a rather less happy one.”

  Darcy scowled. He had mentioned Wickham’s change in status to Richard the previous evening, if only to warn the man to be on the lookout for their friend’s attempt at ingratiating himself into their circle. Darcy doubted even Wickham would be fool enough to seek acknowledgement from either cousin, but he so despaired at the reason for Wickham’s returning to London at all that he was determined not to consider anything beyond possibility for such a man.