by Hahn, Jan
“How can you? It is all untidy and wild.”
“I recall the first time I watched your curls fall. You rode in front of me on Morgan’s horse. I saw your bonnet loosen and drop to the ground, and then one by one, your dark tendrils slipped from their pins and trailed down your neck.”
“I was mortified to appear so dishevelled in your presence,” I murmured, remembering how I had searched for a means to rectify my appearance.
He slowly shook his head. “Your description is untrue. I thought you captivating. Ever since we returned to civilization, I have longed to reach up and throw away those pins.” I could feel him bury his face in my hair, as he kissed my forehead.
“Oh, I do love you so!” I cried as I raised my head from his chest, cupped his face with both hands, and began to kiss him once again. His response was equally urgent. He rolled me over onto my back and began the process of kissing me with such abandon that I feared my heart might burst. At last and only moments before I thought I could not bear the excitement building within me, he pulled away.
Quickly he sat up and put his hand to his mouth in that manner I had come to know so well. He did not look at me until he had regulated his breath. I knew that I should rise to a seated position myself, but in truth, I felt too weak to move.
After a time, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The desire in his eyes did little to aid my resolve. I knew full well that one of us had to be the stronger, and I prayed that it would be Fitzwilliam.
“Three more days, Elizabeth,” he said. “Three more days, and I shall not stop.”
I blushed, but could not keep from smiling.
“Until then we must stay out of haylofts,” he said.
“Must we?” I said wistfully. “Why is that?”
The barest glimmer of amusement played about his eyes. “You know why. Have mercy and do not tease me.”
I raised up on my elbows and lifted my chin. “I am innocent.”
He nodded, saying nothing for a moment, and continued to stare at me. “Yes, I know. If you were not innocent, you would realize in what danger you now reside.”
“Danger?”
“Yes, Miss Bennet, danger.” He turned and reclined upon one arm.
I placed my hand upon his cheek and gazed into his eyes. He took my palm and kissed it, a practice he had already discovered filled me with delight.
“I am not afraid of you, Mr. Darcy,” I tried to say bravely, although my voice trembled somewhat.
“But I am,” he whispered, kissing my palm again. Then rising, he leaned down and pulled me to my feet. “Come, my love. Let us return to the lion’s den and enter our true cage. For the present, I have enjoyed all the sport I am allowed.”
* * *
Early on the day before the wedding, the Gardiners arrived from London, a welcome addition to our household. They left their children in Town with Mrs. Gardiner’s sister, for they knew Longbourn would be brimming over with people.
My father and uncle quickly secluded themselves in Papá’s study to escape the general mayhem caused by two brides at the mercy of a nervous mother. The only sounds we heard were strains of their laughter drifting through the door now and then.
Mamá claimed most of our aunt’s attention, as she thought it imperative that Mrs. Gardiner know every detail of the wedding plans. She insisted that I model my wedding bonnet for my aunt’s approval, but before I could even place it on my head, her interest had leapt from my bonnet to the handkerchief she had embroidered. She wished Jane to carry it with her bridal bouquet, and she waited impatiently to hear her sister’s praise of her fine needlework.
In between attending to our mother’s frequent need for reassurance that Jane and I had indeed placed sprigs of rosemary among our gowns already packed in our valises, Jane attempted to settle in her chair and apply herself to the novel she was reading. I could see the look she wore, however, and I doubted that she could concentrate on the book.
I did not even pretend to be at rest. Over and over, I walked to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and peered out. There was nothing to be seen but rain and more rain. Would it never cease?
The weather was so poor that the day dragged by with an unusual absence of expected callers. My mother suggested taking Aunt Gardiner into Meryton to call on Mrs. Philips, but neither of them was brave enough to face the weather.
“Perchance, she will visit us,” Mamá declared, “as well she ought, for you have made the trip from Town in these inclement conditions, and she should be willing to exert some small effort.”
“I would not insist that anyone go about in this rain, Fanny. I will see my sister on the morrow at the wedding.”
“Oh, that reminds me — the wedding breakfast! I must talk to Cook and go over the menu once again. You must come with me, Madeline, for I wish for you to see the dishes I have selected.”
Jane and I exchanged pointed glances, as we sympathized with poor Cook. Our mother had surely reviewed the menu at least a dozen times! I sighed as I watched Mary resume her place at the pianoforte while Kitty and Lydia whispered and giggled together in a corner.
All seemed as expected within Longbourn, and yet I could not remain still. I missed Fitzwilliam, and I willed the hands on the clock to move more quickly, for he and Mr. Bingley were invited to dine with us that evening.
At length, I relinquished the hope that standing at the window might make the rain stop falling and sat down beside Jane. She looked up, smiled, and returned to her book.
“You may as well put that aside, for I know you cannot keep your mind attuned to the plot.”
“And how do you know that?”
“You have failed to turn a single page for the last hour.”
Jane laughed lightly and placed her marker between the pages. Turning to me, she gave me her full attention. “Does this day seem as long to you as it does to me?”
“Utterly! I believe it is the longest day of the year!”
“We are silly, are we not? If Papá sees our behaviour, he will declare it to be so.”
I nodded. “I find it silly and strange and yet somehow delightful that I can no longer be truly at ease when I am not in Mr. Darcy’s presence. It is as though part of me — the essential part — is missing.”
“May you always feel that way, Lizzy, and you as well, Jane.” Aunt Gardiner placed her hands on our shoulders. Her presence surprised both of us, and Jane asked how she had escaped our mother.
“I convinced her to rest for awhile. I said, ‘Fanny, you look a bit peaked.’ She rushed above stairs to her bed to refresh her bloom in time to receive her dinner guests. And what of you girls? Should you not do the same?”
Jane and I complied with our aunt’s suggestion and climbed the stairs, although we both knew that neither of us would sleep. In truth, I did not even make the attempt, but followed Jane into her chamber. There, we lay on the bed and opened our hearts to each other as we had done all our lives.
“Are you afraid, Lizzy?” Jane had turned on her side, her back to me, and I could not see her face.
“Of what?” I placed my hand on Jane’s shoulder and gently tugged at her to turn back to me. When she did, I saw the blush covering her face.
“The wedding night, of course. Do you think it is as dreadful as Mamá has said?”
“No. If it were, why would so many women agree to marry?”
“What choice does our sex have? If a woman does not marry and she does not possess a vast fortune, she is doomed to be taken in by a brother or sister and to live out her days as a poor relation. She has neither home nor child of her own.”
I sat up and looked directly into Jane’s eyes. “And yet we do have a choice. If you are afraid of Mr. Bingley, you should not marry him.”
“I do not fear Charles but the unknown. What if I do not know how to please him?”
“Dearest, every person in Hertfordshire knows that Mr. Bingley is besotted with you! You cannot help but please him.”
“But the way Ma
má described it — ” Jane’s eyes grew big and round.
“I think we should pay no more attention to what Mamá has told us of the wedding night than we do to any other subject of which she speaks.” I smiled and shrugged, and I was gratified to see my sister’s lips twitch slightly.
Rising from the bed, I walked to Jane’s dresser and began to place her combs in my hair, peering in the mirror to determine which I liked best. “On my wedding night, I plan to follow Mr. Darcy’s lead. He has never yet taken me down the wrong path.”
Jane turned to lie on her stomach facing the foot of the bed. “I believe you learned a great deal about him on that journey you were forced to endure. I suspect that even now you have not told me everything the two of you experienced. ”
I took great pains to remove the combs and smooth my hair back into place, thus avoiding her direct gaze. “On that journey, Mr. Darcy and I faced dangerous, unexpected hazards daily. We were forced to rely on each other. We lived by our wits and the grace of God.”
Turning from the mirror, I wrapped my arms around the bedpost and leaned against it. “I learned what kind of man Mr. Darcy truly is, and I learned to trust him. The unknown does not frighten me, Jane. Does not scripture say that perfect love casts out fear?”
* * *
That evening my uncle renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, and Jane and I were pleased to see their genuine appreciation of each other’s company. We passed a pleasant evening together, even though Mamá lamented the weather frequently, afraid that the roads would be impassable.
“Do not fear the rain, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said. “Darcy and I shall be in place at the appointed time.”
“But what if the river rises?” Kitty asked.
“La, yes,” Lydia added. “What will you do if you cannot cross the bridge?”
“We will swim,” Mr. Bingley declared, causing my younger sisters and my mother to clap their hands in delight.
Mr. Darcy and I stood near the window, and I could not keep from watching the raindrops course down the pane.
He reached for my hand. “Do you share your mother’s concerns about the weather?”
I shook my head, but I could see that he did not believe me. “Perhaps a little.”
He turned to face me and raised my chin with the tip of his finger so that I was forced to meet his eyes. “I promise you nothing will keep me from your side on the morrow. I shall marry you, Elizabeth Bennet, no matter how high the water rises.”
* * *
It was late that evening after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had left for Netherfield before Jane and I climbed the stairs together. We met Aunt Gardiner outside my chamber.
“So everything is in order?” she asked, smiling. “All prepared for the great day, and now to bed?”
We nodded. “In spite of Mamá’s worries, I do think all will be well,” I said.
“Your young gentlemen appear as much in love with the two of you as ever. It does my heart good to see you happy. Now that all the unpleasantness is over, you can look forward to the future with the greatest assurance of hope.”
Jane and I kissed her and reminded her that we owed much of our present joy to her hospitality and gentle guidance. We retired that night filled with pleasure. While we slept, my mother’s prayers were granted, and the rain ceased at last. In its place, a light snow began to fall. We awoke to find the countryside dusted white with a hint of sunshine winking through the clouds.
I could hear my mother’s voice crying, “Hill! Hill!” and the scatter of footsteps, as my sisters and the servants scurried about.
I yawned and stretched, rolled over, and thought of Fitzwilliam.
“Good morning, almost husband,” I whispered.
I rang the bell for the maid and proceeded with my scheduled ablutions. I was a bride that day, and I felt certain a happier bride had never existed.
My mother and my younger sisters ran back and forth between Jane’s bedchamber and mine while we dressed, adding their suggestions — or orders, in Mamá’s case — about our preparations.
At length, I had bathed, perfumed, and corseted my body. I sat patiently while the maid transformed my unruly hair into an array of curls. I stepped into the beautiful white gown, and my aunt placed the lace-trimmed bonnet and veil upon my head. Even I could not help but be pleased with my appearance in the floor-length mirror.
I turned around to see Jane enter the room, a vision too lovely to behold. It was all either of us could do to restrain our tears, but fortunately within moments, my uncle called from below stairs that it was time for us to depart. The tears would have to wait.
A collection of carriages were lined up outside Longbourn Church by the time we arrived. My younger sisters retrieved our bouquets from Aunt Philips in the foyer, and after handing them over, they scampered inside. Lydia and Kitty hoped to seat themselves by Lieutenant Denny and Captain Carter, while Mary frowned at them in disapproval. Mr. Gardiner escorted my mother and aunt into the sanctuary.
“Well, Jane, Lizzy,” Papá said, holding out an arm for each of us to clasp, “you are both about to marry fine men.”
“The very finest of men,” I said, and Jane murmured her assent.
“I could not have parted with either of you to any less.” He kissed Jane’s cheek and then mine, and a lump rose in my throat at the sight of the mist about his eyes. He would not give us time for sentiment, however. Lifting his head, he led us through the great double doors.
Inside I sensed that the pews were filled with guests, but in truth, I could not tell you who was there. I had eyes for only one person standing at the end of the aisle. I suppose the vicar stood there, as well as Mr. Bingley. I, however, saw only Mr. Darcy — my Fitzwilliam — waiting for me.
The expression on his countenance was deadly serious, his eyes piercing mine. It was that same look I had seen him direct upon me so often, one I had in the past erroneously thought of as disapproval but now recognized as Fitzwilliam’s intense struggle for self-control. He needed me, he wanted me, he loved me, but he would hold it all deep within. I could read it all over his face, and it made me smile.
It was not until after we had endured the wedding breakfast and raced through the bridal arches with Jane and Mr. Bingley that Fitzwilliam smiled. All through the meal and endless line of friends and family extending their best wishes, I never saw his countenance ease or felt a lessening of the tension that beset him. Therefore, when his face broke out in smiles as he led me to the carriage, it was as welcome as the sun pouring forth through the clouds in all its splendour.
Even before the carriage reached the end of the drive, we had turned to each other, love and desire culminating in a tender, tentative kiss. For some reason, I suddenly felt timid, knowing that now we were married, a kiss could mean much more than when we were betrothed. Once his lips met mine, however, my shyness evaporated as I tasted his sweet mouth and felt that exciting rush of anticipation envelop me.
“I love you, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured, drawing me into his arms.
“I love you more, Mr. Darcy,” I replied.
“Impossible!” he declared, kissing away my protests.
Ah well, I thought, I shall let him have the last word this time, since he convinced me in such a beguiling manner.
* * *
Jane and Mr. Bingley travelled to London for their wedding trip, but Fitzwilliam wished to take me home to Pemberley, and I had not the slightest desire to go elsewhere. Since it was a great distance to Derbyshire, my husband’s uncle had offered us the use of his country estate, Ardengate, in which to break the first day’s journey.
We stopped to change horses on the way, but still the trip seemed long. I know not whether it was because of our anticipation of the evening to come, but Fitzwilliam, in particular, appeared more than eager to reach the grounds of the great house.
A great house it was, ancient yet well maintained. I was amazed at its size and grandeur. Inside all was prepared in expecta
tion of our visit. I was shown to my spacious, elegant chamber, where a maid unpacked my bags and helped me dress for dinner. The meal was held in a great dining hall with a table fit for a banquet instead of merely two people. Upon entering the room, my husband shook his head.
“This will not do,” he announced to the butler hovering nearby. “You have placed Mrs. Darcy and me at opposite ends of a table clearly intended for a large gathering. Kindly remove her plate, and set it next to mine on my right.” The servant snapped his fingers, and two footmen immediately did as directed.
Over a sumptuous feast, we talked of the day, of our relations, and of the wedding itself. Eventually, we began to speak of the previous night, the last night we had remained in an unmarried state.
“Did you sleep well last evening,” I asked.
“I cannot say that I did,” he replied. “It must have been almost midnight before Fitzwilliam arrived with Georgiana. Even though he was not granted leave from his duties until the last moment, I am fortunate that he was able to escort my sister. I am glad my cousin and sister shall remain in the country for a few days as guests of Mr. Bingley’s sisters. It will give her the opportunity to recover from the journey.”
“I hope she may enjoy time spent with my younger sisters.”
“I am certain that she will. She and Mary can play duets until they drive your father and uncle from the house!”
We laughed at the thought, and then he sobered. “And what of you? Did you sleep well the night before we wed?”
I looked at my lap before answering. “I confess I could not go to sleep,” I said softly, “until I thought of you.”
“And what did you think of me?” His tone was teasing.
“Oh, how handsome and charming you are.” I gave him an arch smile. “I marvelled anew at the way you recommend yourself to strangers! And I dreamt of the balls we will hold at Pemberley, for I know how you love to dance.”
“Are those traits you would have me develop?” I had thought we were teasing, but his tone grew quite serious.
“To be more handsome or charming is impossible. As for the remainder of my silly attempts to tease you, dismiss them with nary a thought. I would not alter you in any way.”