Courting Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Renata McMann

  “Darcy, barring Richard, you’re the best friend I have.”

  “Why thank you, Henry. You always say that when you’re drinking my liquor, though.”

  “I’m being serious here. Look, I know how you behave with people you think are beneath you, and we all know you offend them. I knew you liked Elizabeth, and I could see the look on her face when you were snobbish. At first, I considered behaving even worse than you, to make you seem reasonable by comparison. As an earl, I might have gotten away with it. I decided, though, that people would only end up hating us both. I opted instead to lead by example. I hoped seeing me treating the locals like peers would help you unbend a little. You exceeded my expectations.”

  “That does make a kind of sense,” Richard said.

  “Does it?” Darcy frowned. He hadn’t changed because of Henry, but rather for Elizabeth. Henry had made it easier, though. His cousin didn’t need to know he wasn’t solely responsible. Darcy always liked to encourage Henry to do good deeds. “Thank you. In truth, once I got used to it, it became fun.”

  “It was fun,” Henry agreed. “Sometimes it’s nice to turn protocol on its head. Besides, you did me a favor at Agatha’s party. I wanted to return it.”

  “A favor? All I recall from that day was trouncing you in fencing,” Darcy said smugly.

  “You did, and you put me in my place. I went home and asked myself what would happen if I put Peter’s eye out or killed him. I think I would shoot myself.”

  “That’s a bit dramatic,” Richard said.

  “It is?” Henry shrugged.

  Darcy saluted his cousin with his glass. “Happy to have helped.”

  “Well, I can’t give you all the credit,” Henry said. “It was my horse falling that finally convinced me. My horse didn’t fall because I was a bad rider or he a bad horse. I put him in a position he wasn’t able to handle. He’s rounded many sharp corners before, but this time he failed. What if Peter, or some other fencer, wasn’t up to the challenge one day? Even with the button on the end, a foil could blind someone.”

  Darcy looked at him soberly.

  “Do you mean to say you, Lord Henry, Earl of Matlock, are going to take up fencing in a mask?” Richard said.

  Henry grimaced. “I hate to admit it, but I’m getting older. Someday, the failure could be mine. From now on, I’ll wear a mask and encourage Peter to do so too.”

  “To Henry’s horse,” Darcy said, downing what remained in his glass. He rose unsteadily to his feet and crossed to the sideboard.

  “Darcy.”

  He turned to find Henry and Richard standing as well. He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “More?”

  Richard nodded, crossing the room.

  Henry shook his head, looking amused. “No, not for me. I have a girl half my age waiting for me upstairs, remember?”

  “You realize it didn’t go unnoticed that you and your wife disappeared for an hour or more this afternoon,” Richard said.

  “I still expect to go upstairs to my young wife,” Henry replied smugly.

  “Right. That’s worth drinking to.” Darcy turned back to the crystal laden shelf.

  “Darcy,” Henry repeated.

  He turned back again. “Change your mind?”

  “I didn’t, but you have,” Henry said. He turned to his brother, who was reaching for the crystal bottle. “Neither of you should have any more. My wedding was uncomplicated and only witnessed by a couple of people. Both of you will be upholding the Fitzwilliam name tomorrow. You can’t do that with a hangover.”

  “The Darcy name,” Darcy said.

  “Your first name is Fitzwilliam,” Richard said. “You have to uphold both first and last names.”

  Darcy found that funny, but realized he wouldn’t have sober. For that matter, if Richard hadn’t already had a few, he wouldn’t have said it. Darcy put his glass down.

  Richard looked at the glass in his hand and grimaced, setting it beside Darcy’s. “We’ve already had too much.”

  “Do either of you need an escort to your rooms?” Henry asked.

  Darcy exchanged a glance with Richard. “I think I can make it back to my room without being sidetracked by grapes.” It was too silly a joke to make while sober.

  “Until morning, then, gentlemen.” Henry bowed. He turned away, strolling from the room with a jaunty stride.

  Richard saluted and left. Darcy headed toward his room, unable to stop grinning. In mere hours, Elizabeth would be his. Forever. He started whistling.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Because Jane was the elder, they’d decided she should marry first, rather than alternate vows. Elizabeth stood in the pew with her mother, Mary and Kitty. Her mother silently took her hand, and tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes. These were her last moments as her parents’ daughter. Soon, she would be a man’s wife. Not Elizabeth Bennet any longer, but Elizabeth Darcy.

  Jane stood before the priest with Richard, smiling happily. Elizabeth was sure her sister was the most beautiful, luminous bride the world had ever known. From the besotted look on Richard’s face, he felt the same.

  Jane wedding was a change too. Elizabeth tried to quell her tears, not wanting to be puffy-eyed when she married Mr. Darcy, but it was impossible not to cry. Jane looked so quietly joyous, and Elizabeth was losing her best friend forever. Her mother squeezed her hand, dabbing at her own eyes.

  Elizabeth cast a glance about the church, smiling through her tears. It turned out Lady Agatha and the married women hadn’t been spending their days in idle chatter as Elizabeth had assumed. To her surprise and utter delight, they’d arranged a trousseau for her and for Jane. Jane’s was a practical trousseau, with fabric for bed linens, table linens, and towels, and enough lengths of fabrics for several dresses.

  Since Pemberley had no need of those things, Elizabeth’s consisted of fine fabric and lace to be made up the way she wanted it. There was a glorious peignoir and one dress made from her measurements, but the choices of styles for the rest would be hers. Anne had paid for it all, and Elizabeth wondered, as she had at the last gift, if this was Anne’s way of paying Elizabeth for her help without having to turn over five thousand pounds. Not that she would ever ask for it, or begrudge Anne it. Elizabeth hadn’t helped Anne because she’d offered money, and she and Lydia could now both ensure their mother, Mary and Kitty were well looked after.

  The colluding ladies had also likely emptied an entire hothouse of its content. Pemberley and the church overflowed with flowers. Likewise, a chandler had certainly been bought out, for Elizabeth had never seen so many candles lit at once. Their honeyed aroma wafted through the chamber, nebulous and sweet. It mingled with the scent of the flowers Elizabeth wore in her hair. She felt like royalty, and the chapel was a kingdom created by magic.

  As the clergyman droned through the words of the ceremony in a plodding rhythm, Elizabeth stole a quick glance about the church at the guests. The morning sun and stained glass windows colluded to spread a rainbow of hues across them, adding to the illusion of magic created by the candles and flowers. Her heart filled with love for the smiling faces filling the chapel. Her mother and father, the Gardiners, her sisters, her soon to be new sister and cousins. So much happiness, and she and Jane were the center of it.

  If Miss Bingley sat in the back, scowling, that didn’t trouble Elizabeth today. Nor did Lydia’s pout as she looked about at the magnificently decorated church. Nothing troubled Elizabeth today, for she was marrying Mr. Darcy.

  She peered around her family at him, finding him looking back, the warmth in his eyes bringing a blush to her cheeks. How was it possible she was marrying such a handsome, kind, honorable man? She knew there’d been a time when she thought otherwise of him, but that seemed laughable now. A momentary descent into insanity. One fortunately well behind her.

  Elizabeth turned back to watch Jane and Richard exchange their vows, her eyes dry again. Yes, parts of her life were ending, but the kindness and regard of the people sharing the ch
urch with her that morning never would. Her family wasn’t becoming smaller, but growing.

  Then Richard was placing a ring on Jane’s finger, and their vows were coming to the conclusion. The clergyman led them through the traditional prayer. Smiling at them, he proclaimed them man and wife. Jane blushed as Richard placed a single kiss on her upturned lips. Taking her hand, he turned her toward the assemblage, his face wreathed in happiness. They walked down the aisle amidst congratulations and well wishes, to take their place, together, in the pew. Elizabeth felt tears build in her eyes once more, taking in how Jane kept looking up at her new husband, her eyes shining.

  Elizabeth’s mother let go of her hand, urging her forward, and she realized it was her turn. She felt dizzy. She felt elated. She couldn’t remember what they’d spoken of, how they’d planned she should traverse the change from onlooker to bride. It didn’t matter, because Mr. Darcy was waiting for her at the end of the aisle. She went to him. Together, they took their place before the clergyman.

  He began the ceremony again, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening this time. She was watching Mr. Darcy’s face, cherishing every detail. She knew the clergyman was speaking. She even managed to form the correct words at the right times. At least, she hoped they were correct. No one laughed or gasped, so she assumed they were. Her head seemed full of a joyful, murmuring buzz, the setting dreamlike and unreal. She felt almost as if she floated on a sea of happiness, not quite touching the ground.

  Which would be good, she thought, craning her head back as she looked at Mr. Darcy. Floating would make her taller. “I will,” she said in response to the priest’s words.

  Mr. Darcy’s warm hands enveloped hers. He slid a ring onto her finger.

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the clergyman said. He began leading them through the final prayer. Again, Elizabeth said the words she knew she was to say, not needing to think about them. Not needing to do anything but look into Mr. Darcy’s eyes.

  Silence fell. Elizabeth blinked, realizing the ceremony was over. Slowly, a smile turned up her lips, mirrored on her husband’s face. Then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her. It wasn’t the chaste kiss Mr. Bingley had given Anne, or the tentatively sweet one they’d all seen Jane receive a short time ago. Mr. Darcy’s kiss was fire, and light, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure she was even breathing, but she was sure she didn’t need to. Not if it meant ending their kiss.

  Cheers and laughter blundered their way into Elizabeth’s awareness. Mr. Darcy’s mouth smiled against hers, a sweet ending to their first kiss as husband and wife. She tilted her head back to look into his eyes, finding them alive with amusement.

  “I think we are putting on a show,” he murmured.

  “This troubles you?”

  “Not in the least.”

  He covered her lips with his again. The clergyman cleared his throat. Mr. Darcy broke off their kiss, casting the man a sheepish look. Elizabeth blushed, having forgotten the clergyman stood beside them. Her husband offered his arm. Elizabeth took it, allowing him to escort her through a sea of smiling faces and from the church.

  The wedding breakfast was magnificent, the entertainments of the day splendid. Still, Elizabeth had to work to enjoy them. She spent too many moments not attending to what went on about her, her eyes seeking out Mr. Darcy.

  When the hour arrived and Elizabeth retired, it suddenly seemed as if the day had sped by. Minutes and hours that had dragged were gone, leaving only moments before her husband would open the door adjoining her new chamber to his. She sat at the unfamiliar dressing table, turning a brush in her hand, her hair hanging unbound about her shoulders. She was wearing the new nightgown the other married women and Lady Agatha had selected for her. It was lace and ribbons and soft, shear material, and she couldn’t believe, and didn’t like to consider, that the group of them had spent time selecting it.

  There was a click. Elizabeth swiveled in her chair, watching the door to Mr. Darcy’s room swing open. He stepped through, bereft of his shoes, jacket, waistcoat and cravat. He closed the door softly behind him, crossing to her. Elizabeth found herself hardly able to breath, let alone move. It was all she could do to tilt her head back, keeping her eyes on his. He looked down at her for a long moment, his gaze traveling over her nightgown while she blushed.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured, holding out a hand.

  She put the hairbrush down with a loud clatter. Her hand shaking, she placed it in his. He pulled her to her feet. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, her trembling stilled by his nearness. His presence was reassuring, chasing away any fears she had of what was to come. This was Mr. Darcy, and he loved her.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said, finally responding to his greeting.

  “Now that we’re in private, there’s something I was hoping you would do.” He took her in his arms.

  “And what is that?” she asked, blushing again.

  “Call me Darcy.”

  “Not Fitzwilliam?”

  “Only my relatives ever call me that and you, thankfully, are not among them.”

  “Well, I am your wife. I thought we’d quite settled that.”

  “Oh, we have.”

  His lips descended on hers, and Elizabeth knew their joy would endure forever.

  ***

  Three days after her wedding, Elizabeth finally found time for a quiet walk with her father. As happy as she was in her new home, she knew she would miss him terribly. While she loved all of her family, Jane and her father were dearest to her. Elizabeth knew from her trip to Kent that not having them in her daily life left a painful hole.

  They strolled along a wooded path, keeping near the house. Not only were the farther reaching paths a domain for her and Darcy alone, Elizabeth knew her father tired more easily than he liked to let anyone see. She made sure to steer them away from paths that would require a long journey back.

  Mr. Bennet walked at a slightly slower pace than Elizabeth would have otherwise, his hands clasped behind his back. “I like your Mr. Darcy. He’s put up with us with considerable patience.”

  “Mr. Darcy has come to care for you all, though Lydia seems to be making a special effort to be a trial to everyone’s patience,” Elizabeth replied.

  Her father nodded. “Mrs. Bennet enjoys her calling by her title, but I don’t like Lydia insisting on it.”

  “When I call Lord Henry by his, he corrects me, insisting I call him Henry or Matlock. He’s been calling me Elizabeth. Maybe Lydia will learn by his example.”

  Mr. Bennet shrugged. “That’s his problem now.”

  “I hope all of our problems are as trivial.”

  “I hope so as well, my dear, but it seems to me you haven’t any. Anyone can see your marriage is getting on well. You practically glow, and the two of you can’t keep your eyes from each other, or your hands.”

  She blushed, vowing to try not to be as affectionate with her husband when other people were about. Then she smiled, unsure if she could keep her vow, especially if Darcy wouldn’t join her in it. Her smile grew. Not that she’d ask him to.

  “Jane and Richard seemed happy as well, but I’m not sure Jane has your glow,” Mr. Bennet said, his tone thoughtful. “I hope their visiting Lady Catherine isn’t a mistake.”

  “They can leave if it doesn’t work out. As to the glow, I think they are both better at hiding their feelings than Mr. Darcy and I are.”

  They walked some more, conversing about trivial things. As they reached the final turn back toward the house, her father stopped. Elizabeth did as well, turning to him questioningly, wondering if anything was wrong.

  “Before I leave tomorrow, I want to thank you for the money you and Darcy have settled on Jane, Mary, and Kitty.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Really, it isn’t much. I wish I could do more.”

  “I must admit, I’m surprised Mrs. Bingley gave it to you. I agreed with your uncle, thinking she wouldn’t honor the bargain you and she struck. I’m also please
d you did as your uncle advised and settled it on your sisters. Although you have a wealthy husband now, it still speaks well of you.”

  “I wouldn’t have held it against Anne if she hadn’t kept her word. I wasn’t sure if we truly struck the bargain, and I feel guilty accepting money from her. I only did so because Uncle Gardiner persuaded me that it was my duty to accept it if it would do my sisters good. I don’t need it now, and Lydia certainly doesn’t.”

  “As I said, how you handled the money speaks well of you. It also speaks well of Mrs. Bingley that she kept her word.”

  Elizabeth smiled, happy to let him think so. She’d been surprised when, the day after her wedding, Mr. Bingley spoke to her about where to send the money. She hadn’t expected Anne to remember their tentative bargain, or honor it. Especially not after the money she’d spent on Elizabeth’s and Jane’s trousseaus. Elizabeth had been both stunned and gratified.

  It wasn’t until later that evening, when she and Darcy were alone, that she’d learned the truth. Mr. Bingley, having become acquainted with the details of the original scheme, had told Anne she must honor her word. Anne, apparently, hadn’t wanted to give Elizabeth the money. She’d told Mr. Bingley she hadn’t signed anything. She’d gone on to argue that Elizabeth hadn’t ended up doing much, had benefited from Darcy’s courtship excessively, and didn’t need the money.

  Apparently, Mr. Bingley had responded that a person was only as good as their word and told Anne she was acting like her mother. Elizabeth had gathered from Darcy’s explanation, passed along from Mr. Bingley, that it had taken Anne some time to calm down after hearing that statement. Once she had, she’d agreed to give Elizabeth the money.

  Elizabeth didn’t tell her father any of that, though. It was pleasant to permit him to think her new cousin was a better person than, perhaps, she was. Who knew, with Mr. Bingley’s influence, Anne might become more like him. Not that Mr. Bingley was perfect, but he was amiable and pleasant, and showed no sign of his affections wandering from his wife as they had from Jane. Of course, it hadn’t been a month yet.