Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

by Kara Louise

  Georgiana thought a moment and then smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I think I do.”

  ***

  It was morning, and Elizabeth was already sitting up in bed when Anna tapped at the door. She bid her come in, and Anna quietly and most efficiently helped Elizabeth dress. She was proving to be an exceptional personal maid. Elizabeth not only appreciated her friendliness but her excellence at all she did.

  She was not at Braedenthorn, however. She was at Pemberley. After a small gathering the night before, she surreptitiously slipped out of the carriage as it made its way out the circle drive. Unbeknownst to Darcy, Georgiana brought her back in through a side entrance and skirted her up to the room that had been hers on her stay here.

  Once Elizabeth was dressed, she put on her mud boots. Then she and Anna quietly took the back staircase down and walked out through Pemberley’s courtyard, to avoid encountering Darcy. Georgiana had taken measures with Mr. Grant, her brother’s valet, to ensure that he would hike up the ridge that morning. Mr. Grant was to have given him assurances that the sunrise “looked to be spectacular,” but he also conveniently delayed him somewhat until he heard the “all is clear” tap. That meant Elizabeth had already preceded him down.

  The morning was only just beginning to dawn as she began her climb up the ridge. Fortunately, the sky had cleared, and while the path was slightly damp, it was not terribly muddy. When she reached the summit, it seemed as though nothing, in all directions, was yet awake.

  She walked over to the bench that sat atop the ridge and took a seat. Her heart raced relentlessly as she waited. It was but a moment later that she heard the sound of twigs cracking from the path. She sat very still, keeping her eyes on the place at the summit where the path would bring him up.

  She turned her head slightly when Darcy appeared. He stepped toward the edge of the ridge and looked down the other side. She could see that he looked toward Braedenthorn. It even appeared as though he looked down toward the paths that came up from there. She smiled quietly as she wondered whether he thought she would actually hike up all that way in the darkness.

  He seemed so riveted as he looked out at the valley that Elizabeth wondered whether he would ever notice her. She finally decided to take matters into her own hands. “Ahem.” She cleared her throat, prompting Mr. Darcy to spin around.

  He did not take the time to greet her or even ask what she was doing there or how she got up there. In a few long strides he came to stand in front of her and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. He wrapped his arms about her in a firm embrace and fervently pressed his lips to hers.

  Elizabeth was so completely astonished by his fervour, so enthralled by his ardent display, that she felt she would collapse to the ground if she did not grasp onto him more firmly. He must have sensed this, for his grip tightened about her.

  At last, reluctantly, he slowly drew away. “Pray, forgive me, Elizabeth.” He took in two deep breaths. “I have come up here so often, thinking of sharing the view and the sunrise…” He lifted her chin with two of his fingers, “…with you. Consequently, when I saw you, I could not even utter a polite, ‘Good morning,’ or ‘I am pleased you have come!’”

  He leant over and briefly kissed her lips again. He drew back and said, “I am delighted to see you here, but heavens! You must have hiked up here in the complete darkness!”

  “I wished to keep my promise.” Elizabeth lifted her fingers tentatively to push back some strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “However, I did not climb up from Braedenthorn. I stayed at Pemberley last night. Your sister helped me so you would not find out.”

  “You spent the night at Pemberley?” he asked as he studied her face in the predawn morn.

  “I did. Now, come, sit down. I thought we could sit on the bench just as we did in Town.”

  “In Town?”

  Elizabeth nodded at him. “Yes, we can sit exactly as we did there.”

  Darcy narrowed his eyes at her, pondering her meaning. They sat down, and Darcy took her hand.

  “Good,” Elizabeth said. “You remembered.”

  Darcy’s brows rose. “Ah, yes. I took your hand.” He sat quietly for a moment and then asked, “Are we now to talk of apologies for my aunt’s behaviour and then Georgiana?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I think not.”

  Darcy pursed his lips. “Rosings?”

  “Definitely not!” she laughed.

  Darcy smiled. While it appeared he was trying to subdue the elation he felt, in case he was in error, Elizabeth knew that he had comprehended what her words and her joining him meant.

  He grasped her hand tightly and looked at her. Their eyes remained fixed on each other. “Elizabeth,” he said softly. “I fear I cannot do all things exactly as we did in London!”

  With wide eyes, Elizabeth looked up at him. “You cannot?” she asked, her heart suddenly lurching with alarm.

  He cradled her hands in his. “Not precisely.” After a pause he added, “I neglected to do this.”

  He slid off the bench and knelt before her on one knee. “Elizabeth…” He looked down to reach for her hands when he suddenly stopped and began to chuckle. “Elizabeth, what is this?” He pulled the hem of her dress up slightly to reveal her mud boots.

  “You know precisely what they are! Now… what were you about to say?” she asked coyly.

  Taking her hands, he lifted them up and kissed each one, a smile still displayed on his lips. “My dearest Elizabeth, I would be the most honoured man of all Derbyshire, of all England, of the entire world, if you would consent to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

  Elizabeth grinned and nodded, leaning toward Darcy to kiss both of his hands. “Of course I shall! With all my heart I accept your offer… to watch the sunrises, to explore the paths around Pemberley…”

  “In your mud boots,” Darcy interjected.

  “Yes, in my mud boots… and to read Cowper’s poems and Shakespeare’s sonnets… with you.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Yes, all those things.” Very softly, he added, gazing intently at her, “And more.”

  Elizabeth’s heart stirred within.

  Raising a single brow, he asked, “May I finally announce it to the whole world?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “You certainly may, Fitzwilliam.”

  At that moment, the top edge of the sun appeared, shining its light upon the couple. They both turned and watched as it made its slow ascent over the dark silhouette of the mountain, painting the sky in reds, oranges, and yellows.

  Darcy walked over to the edge of the ridge looking down on Pemberley. He cupped his hands around his mouth and began to shout, “I AM GOING TO MARRY ELIZABETH BENNET!”

  Elizabeth let out a hearty laugh. “Fitzwilliam Darcy! What will everyone think?”

  He walked over and lifted her face to his. “I truly care not what anyone thinks!” He took her hand. “Come, we shall make sure everyone at Pemberley is awake and tell them the news. Then we shall go to Braedenthorn and inform everyone there!” Smiling, he added, “I wish the whole world to know!”

  Chapter 29

  The bells in the steeple at Pemberley church sent their chimes tolling across the countryside. Darcy paced back and forth in his chambers. He had been ready for more than an hour, but another hour still remained before he needed to set out for the church. For the third time in as many minutes, he stood in front of the full-length mirror, fingering his neckcloth and tugging at his coattails to straighten them.

  His valet entered. “Is there anything further I can do for you, Mr. Darcy?”

  Darcy shook his head. “Thank you, no.” He filled his lungs with a breath and then in a soft whisper said, “I just wish this was over with!”

  “It shall be, sir. Very shortly.” Mr. Grant smoothed Darcy’s coat with his hand. “Just keep your eyes on Miss Bennet, sir. I guarantee everyone will have their eyes on her, as well.” With a smile, he added, “The groom is never as appealing as the bride.”

 
; “This is most reassuring, Grant,” Darcy muttered.

  The dependable valet reached up to Darcy’s neckcloth and tightened it in one place and straightened it in another. “May I say, sir, that I am quite certain she will make you a delightful wife!”

  Darcy gave a tug on his coat. “Of that, I am most persuaded.” He then turned to Grant. “You may go. I should like some time to myself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Upon his valet’s departure, Darcy walked to the window and gazed out. Bracing his arms on the windowsill, he looked out over the front grounds of Pemberley, feeling a great surge of contentment. He let out an audible sigh and gave another tug on his coat.

  Without bothering to knock, Colonel Fitzwilliam barged in. “Darcy!” he exclaimed. “Come join your family downstairs before the nuptials. You have spoken barely two words to my mother-in-law since we arrived. I have spent a great deal of energy since your engagement was announced making her see the good in it. And that,” the Colonel gave a tug to his cousin’s neckcloth, “after doing everything in my power to convince her to see the good in my marriage to Anne!”

  “You are correct. I have neglected them far too long. I am just not inclined to participate in idle talk, as they will be of a mind to do.” Darcy paused as words escaped him as to the violence of his feelings. Softly, he said, “My heart is so full. I am happier than I can even believe myself to be.”

  The Colonel smiled slyly. “Shall you be happy with such a mother-in-law as Mrs. Bennet?”

  “Are you happy with yours?” Darcy truly wished to know.

  Patrick laughed. “I have always been able to brush aside our aunt’s idiosyncrasies far better than you. However, from what I have seen of Mrs. Bennet’s behaviour these past few days, I would garner a suspicion that she, much like our aunt, is one who easily tries your patience.”

  Darcy returned a satisfied look. “I shall fare quite admirably.”

  “Hah!” Darcy’s cousin laughed. “Mrs. Bennet is conveniently ensconced four full counties away in Hertfordshire, whereas I must live at Rosings with mine.”

  “Only when you are on leave. But I will give you credit in that regard, my good cousin. You are a much better man than I.” Darcy gave his cousin a slap on the back and turned to walk out.

  ***

  A short while later Fitzwilliam Darcy stood with an immaculately dignified posture at the front of Pemberley church. His arms hung loosely at his side, his fingers alternately fisted and stretched open. Occasionally he slipped one hand into his coat pocket to take hold of the diamond and sapphire ring he would place on his beloved’s finger. It had once graced the finger of his mother, and soon it would be on the finger of his wife. Elizabeth had not yet seen the ring, as his wish was that she would set her eyes upon it for the first time when he placed it on her finger in the ceremony.

  Darcy shifted from one foot to the other as he looked out at all the eyes presently upon him. He waited eagerly for the moment he would see Elizabeth walk toward him, knowing that at that moment, all would be well.

  His cousin stood at his side, more relaxed and much more able to enjoy these moments before the wedding. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying the discomfiture Darcy was experiencing.

  Darcy could do nothing more, in those torturous moments of waiting, but to allow his eyes to gaze out at the guests. They came to rest upon his cousin Anne and her mother. Now that Anne was married to Patrick, she seemed a different woman. Marriage to their cousin had been good for her and seemed to enliven and embolden her, almost producing within her a liveliness he had never seen.

  Darcy peered over at his aunt, who sat proudly and rigidly at her daughter’s side. Darcy was truly grateful his cousin had persuaded her to accept both marriages. It had merely taken a veiled threat that while he and Anne would be making numerous journeys to Pemberley, she would not be accompanying them if she did not accept Elizabeth as Darcy’s wife.

  Darcy glanced over at the Hamiltons and his cousin Peter. He had been indispensable when things had grown chaotic at Pemberley. When Darcy abruptly left, leaving the Willstones and Miss Matthews with unanswered questions and mild accusations, Hamilton stepped in to assist Miss Darcy in tactfully making excuses for her brother and gently addressing their concerns. He also unwittingly became the shoulder upon which Miss Matthews cried. By the time they departed Pemberley, Rosalyn was convinced that Hamilton himself had formed an ardent regard for her and she hoped to see him in Town next season.

  Darcy’s fists tightened and held their grip when he noticed Wickham and Lydia. He could hardly ban him from the wedding of his sister-in-law. While they had not been invited to Pemberley in the days before the wedding, he had no choice but to allow him to come to the wedding breakfast there following the wedding. Wickham was given, however, a strict admonition that he was not to walk liberally about the place as he was once accustomed to doing.

  His eyes drifted to Mrs. Bennet, and he wondered, with an honest measure of dread, how often she would expect to be a guest in their home. With an involuntary twitch of his mouth, he assured himself that Bingley would cheerfully and most graciously expect Mrs. Bennet to reside at Braedenthorn.

  Darcy’s musings were interrupted when the doors at the back of the church swung open. He watched as Jane walked slowly down the aisle, glancing at her husband and smiling as she passed him. When at last Elizabeth stepped out with her uncle by her side and began to walk toward him, Darcy took in a sharp breath. She was beautiful and he let out his breath in a long sigh of contentment.

  As Elizabeth walked toward him with her gloved fingers tucked through Mr. Gardiner’s arm, she saw only him, the man who would be her husband, her companion, her love, her protector and provider. In the course of the hour, she would be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  As she came near, it took every ounce of control for Darcy not to step forward to take her from her uncle’s arm. Quite believing he would, the Colonel gently reached out to stay him with his hand.

  When Elizabeth reached him, they faced Reverend Grierson. He began to speak the traditional words of the ceremony; words that had been spoken thousands of times before and would be spoken again countless times in the years to come. The words were familiar to Darcy, but this time they were being spoken to him and his beloved Elizabeth. He never imagined his feelings would be so violent.

  Darcy and Elizabeth spoke their vows and responded to the reverend’s questions with heartfelt earnestness. There was no doubt in each of their minds that they would love and honour, serve and obey… in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, till death did part them.

  As a sign of their covenant and commitment, Darcy gently took her hand and slid the ring upon Elizabeth’s finger. She gasped as she caught the sparkle and brilliance of the centre diamond flanked on either side by two sapphires. She lifted her eyes, and her lips parted, wishing to express her wonder at such a gift. She spoke not a word, but her face told him the extent of her feelings.

  Every fibre in Darcy’s body wished to draw Elizabeth to him and kiss those beguiling lips. He merely had to wait until that pronouncement. I can do that… he told himself. I can do that… I…

  In the midst of his silent resolution, he heard a voice, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You shall no longer be known as you were, but from this day forward you shall be known as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  At long last the moment Fitzwilliam Darcy had been waiting for was here. Elizabeth was now his wife! He looked at her first and smiled, and then leant down and kissed the lips that had earlier beckoned him and now smiled back at him. He savoured their sweetness. He wrapped his arms about her, delighting in her soft touch. If it were not for the multitude of eyes upon him, he would have been tempted to prolong the kiss. He slowly and reluctantly pulled away.

  The newly wedded couple turned to face their guests and walked back up the aisle as man and wife.

  ***

  Pemberley’s ballroom had been transformed into a room worthy o
f the celebration of its Master and his new bride. The foods they prepared and musicians that played were the finest in the county. Flowers filled every corner, topped every table, and were even placed in small vases along the wall. Candles were lit even though it was daylight, providing a warm and magical atmosphere.

  After the breakfast, Darcy and Elizabeth were expected to begin the dancing. As Elizabeth faced her husband, waiting for the piece to begin, she smiled as she thought back to their dance together at the Netherfield Ball and how she had so misjudged him.

  It was midafternoon when finally the couple began to say their farewells and thank everyone for coming. After receiving a celebratory send-off, the couple departed Pemberley, eager to begin their life together.

  Darcy made arrangements to stay at a small cottage on a lake about an hour’s carriage ride away. As they sat together in the carriage, Elizabeth gently stroked her husband’s hand. “I have been doing much thinking of late, Fitzwilliam, and am quite of the opinion it was best for the two of us that I had such strong feelings of dislike for you initially.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “Truly? Why is this?”

  A smug smile swept her face. “In my study of the character of ladies such as Caroline Bingley and Rosalyn Matthews, I believe that they once were quite amiable. I knew for a fact that Rosalyn was. We got along quite nicely while in London. But something changed at Pemberley.”

  “What changed?”

  Elizabeth slipped her hand through Darcy’s arm and leaned back in the carriage, her eyes turned forward. “She became quite unreasonable, suspicious, even scheming.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I can only assume that this is what has happened to every young lady who set her eyes upon you as a prospect for marriage.”

  Darcy shook his head. “This is preposterous!”