While not the passionate lover of all books, as Lizzy and Mr. Bennet, Mary read steadily, albeit with a narrower scope of interest. She would greatly enjoy exploring the Pemberley library, of that Lizzy was confident. The unknown was when her family would make the journey to her soon-to-be residence.
Preferring to remain in the present, Lizzy went on, “Attached to the main library, on the first-floor level, is the second library. The Darcys have been collecting books for generations, meaning some are of inestimable worth. For this reason, they are segregated, and the door is kept locked.”
“Did you see inside?”
Lizzy smiled at Mary’s awe and enthusiasm, remembering that she had felt the same when Mr. Darcy had shown her the room while visiting that August past. As captured as she had been by the rows upon rows of books, many so ancient they were under glass, she had been acutely aware of his warmly glowing blue eyes resting upon her. The memory brought tingles to her skin.
“Yes, I did. It was a profoundly moving experience, like being in a museum.” Shaking off the memory, which naturally made her think of William, whom she missed terribly, she cleared her throat and resumed the narrative. “I also was given a tour of the library located off the music room where are keep the volumes dedicated to musical theory, composition, and history. I never imagined so many books were written on the topic! Of course, all the sheet music is stored there as well, some of those quite old as well. Of no shock whatsoever, it is Miss Darcy’s favorite library. Then—”
“There is another library?”
“My tone carried a similar note of amazement when Mr. Darcy spoke of it. I believe it to be the last library, although I could well be wrong. I did not tour it when I visited Pemberley, but near his office, or perhaps directly attached, is a library exclusively for the family histories and journals, estate records, and business related books. Apparently, many Darcys kept journals, the oldest, he said, belonging to Frederick Darcy, the Irishman who established Pemberley in Derbyshire during the early fifteenth century. Can you imagine? The value of such a thing is incalculable. No wonder those priceless books are separated. I am unsure if this one room stores all the historical family documents, although William intimated as much. After nearly four hundred years, it must be a sizable room to hold them all.”
“Where will you put your books, then?”
Lizzy shrugged. “I am not sure, to be honest. Ideally in our bed—that is, my bedchamber.” Instantly blushing at the slip revealing her secret wish to share sleeping quarters with her husband, Lizzy shot her gaze at Kitty. Thankfully, she was contentedly humming to herself while packing the London purchases into Jane’s new trunk.
Dashing a silent prayer heavenward for her younger sister’s book indifference preventing her latching on to the last remark, Lizzy added, “Outside of the designated libraries, I saw cases of books in several rooms. Aware as I am of Mr. Darcy’s passion for reading, I would be very surprised if he does not have a case or two in his private chambers. I am sure I can have the same, if I request it.”
“I have sent a servant to fetch more boxes,” Mrs. Bennet announced from the doorway as she breezed back into the room carrying a tray of sweet snacks. Mrs. Hill followed behind bearing the heavier tray with a pot of tea, five cups, and containers filled with cream and sugar. Dropping whatever was in their hands, the four sisters gathered around the table. Tea and snacks were a welcome break from work.
Cups poured and small plates piled with the treats, they relaxed into the cushioned chairs and sofa. Lizzy surveyed the room, rather amazed to discover they had made significant progress. Most of the floor was clear, the scattered heaps now stowed in the appropriate box, luggage case, or trunk. Those boxes and furniture pieces to be shipped to Pemberley were in Jane’s unused bedchamber, lined orderly against one wall. The trunk set aside for Lizzy to take on her honeymoon was, thanks to Mary, packed tidily with plenty of free space available. All in all, a good day’s work!
Between bites, Mrs. Bennet informed them, “While I was downstairs a message arrived from Mrs. Filiatreau. She reports that the florist in Derbyshire can send Jacob’s ladder blooms as you requested, Lizzy.”
“That is excellent news! They were plentiful in Derbyshire, including in the gardens at Pemberley. A beautiful flower with a lovely fragrance. They will blend well with the lavender and honeysuckle, in both fragrance and appearance, to create a fabulous bouquet.”
“Bluish-purple flowers, is that right?”
“Yes, Jane. I saw some that were bluer than purple, the hue varying. Hopefully, the ones Mrs. Filiatreau sends are blue.”
“To match the necklace Mr. Darcy gave you! Oh, it is divine. Can we see it again, Lizzy?”
Lizzy shook her head, Kitty immediately pouting. “Sorry, but I asked Papa to keep it locked in his desk. I cannot fathom its worth, even without taking the sentimental value into account. Frankly, having possession of such a necklace is a frightening responsibility.”
“Might as well get used to it. Imagine the jewels you will have as Mrs. Darcy.” Flipping from a pout to dreaminess, Kitty sighed. “I bet there are cases and cases of diamonds, rubies, emeralds—”
“Precisely why the wedding must be perfect,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted. “Two Bennet daughters marrying wealthy, respected gentlemen of Society. We shall be the talk of the county for ages!”
Jane met Lizzy’s eyes, the sisters sharing a tolerant smile. Their expressions were amused, a contrast to the contortions of dread and embarrassment perpetually worn during the initial weeks of their engagements. Harnessing their dramatic mother was a feat they had found impossible to do anyway.
Moreover, after discussing it privately, the brides-to-be had a revelation. The near-fatal disaster of Lydia’s actions resulted in a hasty wedding none of them had been informed of in time to attend, even if they had wanted to. Despite Mrs. Bennet’s brave face and boasting of Lydia being married to a gentleman officer, they saw her pain. She had been robbed of her honorable, rightful place as a mother, unable to participate in any way. Therefore, while a tendency to roll their eyes remained and they did from time to time need to pull on the reins, they had agreed to concur with whatever she wanted.
“The flowers are arranged for, even the yellow flowers you wanted, Jane. Roses should not be a problem, and Mrs. Filiatreau has connections that may have late-blooming dahlias or peonies.”
“Thank you, Mama. I am content with whatever she can manage. I am still amazed you talked Reverend Jenney into placing ribbons and flowers on the pews. He is a dear man, but a stickler for traditions.”
Mrs. Bennet looked slightly offended. “He understands what an important wedding this is! Besides, I can be very persuasive.”
“Mr. Darcy spoke to Mr. Jenney, requesting the inclusion as a personal favor.”
Lizzy’s teacup hit the saucer with a sharp clink. “He did? How do you know that, Mary?”
Mary flushed and dropped her eyes. “I was at the church when Mr. Darcy came in. I was in the back pew, praying, so do not think he saw me. I did not mean to overhear, but they were standing a half-dozen feet away!” Finally convinced that no one thought her an active eavesdropper, she explained, “Mr. Darcy specifically noted that allowing modest decoration inside the church was his request as a gift to Mrs. Bennet for her kindness. Is that not kind of him? I do not think he wanted you to know, Mama, so do not make a fuss over it. He does not like undue attention.”
Lizzy was unsure what shocked her more—Darcy’s thoughtfulness toward Mrs. Bennet, whom he pretended fondness for but Lizzy knew he barely tolerated, or Mary’s astute observations of Mr. Darcy’s character. Lizzy honestly could not recall Mary and Mr. Darcy speaking a single word to each other outside of the obligatory greetings.
As they enjoyed the repast, Mrs. Bennet prattled on, methodically enumerating upon the church decorations before moving on to the wedding cake and breakfast menu. They had heard the reports a dozen times, but what bride doesn’t adore discussing her up
coming wedding? Just as the sweets were almost gone, the butler interrupted with a letter for Jane.
“It is from Caroline Bingley.”
“Another one? That makes, what is it now? Three in as many weeks? What is she up to?”
“Now, Lizzy,” Jane said as she tore the seal. “Perhaps her time away has given her time to reflect. Her correspondence has been quite pleasant. She expresses her delight in my marriage to her brother, and her professions of regard toward me are civil and suggest sincerity.” At the impulsive snorts, snickers, grunts, and huffs, Jane primly rebuked. “Remember, Caroline is to be my sister. I know she is not entirely trustworthy, and we may never be friends. However, nothing is gained by unkindness.”
“Of course, you are correct Jane,” Lizzy offered, straining for a goodwill tone. “Maybe if you share Caroline’s words, we will improve our opinions and feel the same kindness toward her.”
And then the sun shall turn into a huge block of ice.
Jane narrowed her eyes but, after studying Lizzy’s neutral face, read the letter aloud as requested. Blessedly short, there was only one valuable detail that Lizzy gleaned from the phony, saccharine-laced sentences.
“So, Caroline and the Hursts are to leave Bath this week, returning to London, and are planning to come to Netherfield sometime during the week before the wedding. Oh joy.”
“We knew they would be coming, Lizzy. So will others who are attending the wedding, meaning we may as well accept the onslaught. On the positive, with lots of visitors, you won’t be obliged to spend large quantities of time with Caroline.”
Jane had a point, not that it completely alleviated the queasiness in her stomach. Worse yet, the mention of wedding guests reminded her of news she had been loath to impart. Anticipating her mother’s reaction increased her nausea.
No time like the present, she thought, putting the uneaten scone back on her plate. Opening her mouth to speak, Lizzy got no further than taking a breath, upon which she was hit with a coughing fit thanks to her mother’s next words.
“I do wish my Lydia was one of those attending. Alas, none of my letters have been replied to, so I can only assume she and Mr. Wickham are not coming. It is a very long way and with his position in the army… Gracious me, Lizzy! Take a drink of tea, for heaven’s sake!”
“Mama,” Lizzy squeaked after gulping from her cup as instructed. “Am I understanding you correctly? Did you invite Lydia to our wedding?”
“She is your sister, Lizzy. Oh, I know you said there was some issue between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham”—Mrs. Bennet waved her hand, the gesture conveying her apathy—“but how serious could it be? Besides, what better way to heal past transgressions than at a wedding?”
Truly dumbfounded, Lizzy gaped at her mother. Kitty frowned but was feeding pieces of a biscuit to her puppy and paying minimal attention. Mary flicked her eyes between the two, clearly troubled and confused. Jane was the only one in the room who knew the truth, and her countenance was as gloomy as Lizzy had ever seen it.
“Mama, I am quite vexed with you, I must confess.”
Four sets of brows arched as four sets of eyes widened. Coming from sweet, perpetually unruffled Jane, this was as rough as it got.
“Mr. Darcy’s reasons are his own to keep but should not be minimized or disregarded. He is an upstanding gentleman deserving the utmost respect. We miss Lydia but must never pretend she did not make wrong choices which nearly destroyed this family. Remember too that Papa has declared, most emphatically, that neither Lydia or Mr. Wickham are welcome at the wedding. He barely welcomed them to Longbourn after their wedding and only at our behest, relenting for that one short visit only. Therefore, I strongly suggest you pen another missive immediately, uninviting the Wickhams in language without ambiguity, and send it by courier to Newcastle posthaste.”
The speech, a long one for Jane and delivered in a firmly disapproving tone, left all of them too stunned for a swift response.
Struggling to contain her vexation, as Jane had understatedly put it, Lizzy finally felt able to speak without screaming. “Please, Mama, take Jane’s advice. Either of them at the wedding, especially Mr. Wickham, would be an unmitigated disaster. It simply cannot happen, not under any circumstances.”
“Oh very well! Quit badgering! I shall write to Lydia. It isn’t probable she would travel the distance. Newcastle might as well be the Americas it is so far away.”
Tension remained thick, despite a handful of half-hearted attempts to interject with something frivolous. They rose from the table, slowly resuming the packing and organizing project. Gaiety restored little by little, although not quite to the level it had been. Lizzy missed William, and then there was the news she needed to impart. Groaning inwardly, still not keen on facing more of her mother’s nervous hysterics, she decided to try again.
Inserting cheeriness into her tone, Lizzy turned from the bureau. “My word! I almost forgot. Mama, the letter from Miss Bingley reminded me of something else. I fear that with all the wedding excitement, it slipped my mind to tell you that Mr. Darcy has three additional guests coming to the wedding.”
Mrs. Bennet, who was standing at the side of the bed and folding a stack of lightweight summer gowns, and straightened with a jerk. At the instant look of panic crossing her face, Lizzy hastened to her side. “No one to accommodate at Longbourn, Mama. Netherfield has plenty of room and is a more convenient location since the wedding feast is to be held there anyway.”
“Oh my! We will need to adjust the amount of food! Why did you not tell me sooner? Is this in addition to his sister, Miss Darcy?”
“The food will be quite sufficient, Mama,” Jane assured hastily. “We have an abundance purchased as it is and shall be eating off the remains for a week. Three additional mouths will not be a burden.”
“Indeed,” Lizzy nodded, squeezing her mother’s hand. “Naturally, you needed to know, and I apologize for not telling you sooner, but it is nothing to concern yourself with.”
“I hope it isn’t that horrid aunt of his that Mr. Collins toadies to. Frowning, churlish old people should not be at a wedding,” Kitty muttered absently as she inspected the array of perfume and cosmetic containers on the vanity.
Mrs. Bennet gasped, her hand pressed against her chest. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh? Oh, goodness gracious! I never imagined! Oh dear, oh dear—”
“Mama, calm yourself. I can assure you that Lady Catherine has not been invited to the wedding and if she had the nerve to show up would be thrown out. I am speaking of Mr. Darcy’s other aunt and uncle.” Eyes darting to Jane, who nodded encouragingly, Lizzy inhaled deeply. Still holding on to her mother’s free hand, she continued. “This would be the Earl and Countess of Matlock, and their youngest son, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
After the briefest of pauses, Lizzy and Jane steeling themselves for the histrionics, Mrs. Bennet pressed a finger to her lips and asked, “A colonel, you say? Mr. Darcy’s cousin is a colonel? And he is coming to the wedding? Well, well.” Mrs. Bennet swiveled speculative eyes to the impervious Kitty, then back to Lizzy. “Would this officer and son of an earl be a bachelor by chance?”
How in the world had Lizzy not anticipated this reaction? In all the worried discussions with Jane over how to break the news of an earl and countess attending the wedding without their mother fainting, never had raptures over Colonel Fitzwilliam occurred to them.
In a blink, the tension over Lydia, worries over wedding decor and meals, and even concerns about the marriage bed and scandalous undergarments faded away. The thrill of a flesh-and-blood army officer overruled them all.
Should I tell Mama he is a confirmed bachelor? Quickly, Lizzy discarded that idea. This promised to be far too much fun. Poor Richard! He has no idea what he is in for. Wait until William hears this.
* * *
“These are the last two, Mr. Hill.” Lizzy pointed at the boxes stacked by the door. “Be careful with your back. They have books inside, so are extremely heavy.”
&
nbsp; “I can manage, Miss Elizabeth, but thank you for the warning.”
Holding in her smile, Lizzy nodded, then turned away. The elderly Longbourn butler was a dear man, and quite proud. Never would she wish to embarrass him by watching him struggle to lift the weighty boxes. Ignoring the grunts and muttered curses, she pretended absorbing interest in the open portmanteau on her bed.
It had taken a week to thoroughly go through every nook and cranny of the two bedchambers and for the rest of the house to be searched for anything belonging to Jane or Lizzy. The wedding was still over a week away, so it hadn’t been critical to rush the job. However, they both discovered an urgency to finish once the cleaning, sorting, and packing enterprise had begun. Now, finally, it was complete. Or mostly so, that is.
Jane’s boxed items were stowed in her unused bedroom. They would be carted to Netherfield later in the week. The proximity to Longbourn meant that Jane hadn’t needed to pack as tightly and carefully as Lizzy. Nor had Jane needed to plan carefully for what to stow away and what to keep at hand. The balance of what to send ahead to Pemberley and what to carry with her in the carriage after the wedding had been more difficult than Lizzy imagined.
Mr. Darcy requested transporting her things to Pemberley sooner rather than later, so the boxes containing the bulk of her possessions were, at that moment, being loaded onto a wagon parked on the front drive. “If it is not too much of an inconvenience,” he had said, “to ship your possessions this week, the earlier arrival will provide the Pemberley staff plenty of time to unpack and organize. They can ensure the new Mrs. Darcy’s personal effects are readily available when we arrive home.”
Mrs. Darcy. Home.
The way he had said the words while gazing at her with his incredibly blue eyes awash with love and happiness, had filled her with a flood of emotions she could not begin to define. Remembering his countenance helped in easing the bouts of sadness.
Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2 Page 24