by AmyJ
The next week Longbourn was a bustle of activity. Elizabeth was busy taking her leave of the area's four and twenty families. When she was not making or receiving calls, she was assisting her mother with wedding plans.
Darcy, too, was busy with guests of his own -- the Blakeslees and the
Matlocks, who had arrived in Hertfordshire several hours after Darcys -- to look after, though he, along with Lord Blakeslee, made a point of being regular visitors at Longbourn. With the large number of people both at Longbourn and the Great House at Stoke though, the betrothed couple had very little time to speak in private. On one particular afternoon, however, they managed to leave their confining duties and made their way Oakham Mount.
Lord Blakeslee trailed behind with Jane, affording them some privacy.
Noticing the thin line of Darcy's mouth, Elizabeth teased, "Does the weather not suit, sir? I shall speak to my mother about it directly. Though I do not think the weather listens overly much to her, I am certain she would not like to see you so put out."
Darcy shook his head at her teasing. "I apologize. I was simply enjoying the country air. I did not know you were so desirous of conversation." Once again, he looked back towards the others.
"Only a little," Elizabeth said archly. "By the by, I might comment on the scent of rain in the air, and you might share why the arrangement behind us captures your attention so completely. But for now we may be silent."
Darcy could not but chuckle at her inquiry, so delightfully put. "Oh no, my lady. If it is conversation you wish, conversation you shall have. I am only concerned for your sister's sensibilities. I should have known there was a
reason Wesley did not object to an early departure."
Elizabeth could not help laughing, but gently squeezed the arm she was
holding as an expression of her gratitude for his concern. "Fitzwilliam, do not concern yourself. It is but a week. I do not think either of them could form an attachment so quickly."
"It is not the first time they have met. A week under such circumstances could
--" He abruptly stopped realizing what he was about to confess. "I do not wish your sister's expectations to be raised."
"I do not think there is anything to fear on that end," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. She realized Jane had not mentioned Lord Blakeslee in any of
their conversations. They had only discussed Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Bingley on occasion. "Jane is well aware of his station, and must know he is expected to make an excellent match."
"Is it certain Mr. Bingley will attend the wedding?" Elizabeth inquired. Her tone attempted to hide her apprehension.
"It is. Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth. He has already stated Miss Bingley would remain in town." He looked down at her and smiled. "I would not have her ruin your day." He watched, with something akin to envy and longing, as a pale blush overtook her. "But I know you well enough to say with confidence, it is not Miss Bingley's presence that concerns you."
"Truly, Fitzwilliam. I would never begrudge you a friend. It is only my sister and Mr. Bingley parted on ill terms. I do not wish either of them to be
uncomfortable."
Darcy nodded, and once again turned contemplative. "I do not know what has come over him, lately. He has not been himself. I can only hope his time in the country has restored his spirits."
"Have you heard from him since his departure?"
"No." After a few more minutes of silent consideration, he squeezed her hand.
"Let us not think on him any further. I am certain he is well, and will write when he is able. Or we shall see him at the wedding." With a smirk, he added,
"Have I met your requirements for conversation?"
Elizabeth laughed, at once being fully at ease again. "Quite admirably, sir."
The two walked on, speaking of less important topics. Elizabeth expressed an interest in seeing the Lakes and peaks, and Darcy suggested a trip after the wedding, if time permitted.
A few days before the wedding, Elizabeth was situated comfortably in her
father's study. It was early yet, and the rest of the house had yet to wake. Due to the drizzling rain, a walk had not been an option. A book in her lap, she lazily twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
"Good morning, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said. "I see the dreary weather has finally managed to keep you indoors."
Elizabeth glanced at the rain-speckled window, and then looked at her father.
"Yes. So close to the wedding, I dare not test my constitution. I shudder to think what Mama would say were I to catch a chill."
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. "I thank you for your consideration. These last months have indeed been a trial." His eyes twinkled. "I should banish you from my study for abandoning me in such a manner. A whole month with nothing
but talk of lace!"
With a chuckle, Elizabeth rose and gave her father a kiss on the cheek.
"Forgive me, Papa, it was most unkind of me. Perhaps you shall forgive me when I tell you Fitzwilliam has extended an open invitation to Pemberley for whenever you wish."
Mr. Bennet chuckled. "It is the least he can do for taking you so far away!" He paused, and a doleful look came over him. "Shall you be happy married to such a man, Lizzy?"
A deep blush overtook her. "He is the best of men, Papa. I shall be quite content."
"If you are certain, then I shall say no more." A touch of sadness remained around his eyes. Rather than pulling out his usual tome, he set up the chess board. "I suspect your mother will demand your attention the remainder of the week, but since she is still abed, can I interest you in a game?"
Elizabeth gladly assented and the two played in relative silence.
"I do not suppose Jane has expressed an interest in such an activity," Mr.
Bennet questioned midway through the game.
"No," Elizabeth laughed. "Such a hobby might ruin her perfectly angelic reputation." More seriously she said, "But Mary may be amenable. It would
give her an occupation other than reading Fordyce." She gauged her father's reaction to her suggestion, and then dropped her eyes back to the board.
Silence once again reigned.
"Perhaps you are right," Mr. Bennet murmured. Elizabeth smiled slightly, but maintained her focus on the game.
They were near the end of the game when the noise of the rest of the family filtered into the sanctuary. "Well, my Lizzy. I do believe our peaceful morning has come to an end." Uncharacteristically, he rose and pulled her into an embrace. "Now off with you, and remember, you and your young man have
wrought this on yourselves. I can not be expected to save you."
Elizabeth chuckled, kissed her father's cheek, and then scurried to greet her mother.
The day before the wedding, the Bingleys arrived at the Great House at Stoke.
As Elizabeth was busy planning her final departure from Longbourn, Darcy
waited outside alone to greet his friend. "Bingley!" he exclaimed warmly, "It is good to see you. How did you find things in the north?"
"I shall tell you about it all inside." Bingley said tiredly.
Expecting no one else, Darcy turned toward the house, and was surprised when Bingley returned to the carriage. His stomach plummeted when he saw his
friend handing someone out of the carriage and a familiar, unwanted voice
simpered, "Mr. Darcy! How good of you to welcome us personally."
He must have cast a dark glare at his friend, because Bingley suddenly found the ground terribly interesting. Despite her uninvited presence, Darcy was a gentleman first. "Miss Bingley," he greeted. Without waiting for the others, he turned to lead them inside.
"The Hursts unexpectedly travelled to see family," Bingley muttered on the way
"Of course. I shall speak with the housekeeper about having another room prepared." Inwardly Darcy was seething, though not all his anger was directed as the Bingleys. He should have known better, he told himself. Knowing the
&n
bsp; Bingley siblings as he did, he should have forgone Mr. Bingley's attendance at the wedding. Miss Bingley was never one to overlook an opportunity to form a connection amongst high society, and the wedding was just the type of setting she craved. She had obviously found a way to attend, despite the lack of
invitation.
In silence, the three made their way to one of the guest rooms for Miss Bingley.
Mr. Bingley was given a room nearby.
"I am sorry, Darcy." Bingley said, just before opening the door to his room. "I had little choice. I could not leave her in London alone."
Unwilling to hide his displeasure, Darcy glared heatedly at his friend. "Bingley, for your sake, I have tolerated your sister's fawning and attentions to me these many years. I warn you. Should she say one word against Miss Elizabeth, the Bennets, or do anything to upset my betrothed, she will never be welcomed into any of my homes again. If that means I see you less, then I will be
saddened, but I will not tolerate any disrespect to my wife from my family, and certainly not from your sister."
He felt a little remorse upon seeing Bingley blanch and meekly murmur, "Of course, Darcy."
Attempting to smooth things over, he said in a more gentle tone, "Bingley, forgive my interference in your family business, it is kindly meant, but you need to check your sister, or she will be the laughing stock of the ton. Her behaviour at the Granville ball was nothing short of ridiculous. I am sorry to pain you, but there are already whispers. If you do not learn to control her, she will be the ruin of the both of you."
Bingley only nodded and then closed the door behind him, leaving Darcy once again to wonder at the state of affairs with his friend. Whatever had been
bothering Bingley had not been cured by time away from town. Then again, he too would be out of sorts if he had to spend the morning confined to a carriage with Miss Bingley.
Unwilling to give either Bingley much more thought, he headed to his rooms.
There were more worthwhile details to attend. Tomorrow he was getting
married!
1 These words are from the English translation of Mozart's Magic Flute.
Chapter Thirty-One
Darcy sat, for the moment anyway, in one of the high backed chairs in his
sitting room. In another one, sat Lord Blakeslee, with Bingley and Lord
Fitzwilliam sharing the sofa.
The fact that all of them were even awake was amazing; at least Bingley should still be feeling the effects. After an early dinner at Longbourn, they, along with Lord Matlock, had spent the late hours of the night imbibing copious amounts of brandy and wine; Bingley had drunk the lion's share.
Listening, but not hearing the jests of his friends, he looked at the clock once again. Only five minutes had passed. This was insufferable! How was he going to survive another hour?
Impatience got the better of him, and he stood, walked to the hearth and leaned against the mantle. He tried to calm himself by reliving his conversation last night with Elizabeth.
Mrs. Bennet had insisted on hosting one last hurrah before the wedding. Most of the illustrious guests would leave Hertfordshire the day of or the day after the wedding, and the matron was never one to miss an opportunity to
demonstrate her abilities as a hostess -- especially when those who patronized the halls of St. James were amongst those gathered.
Though it almost resembled an Assembly, based on the number of families
from the neighbourhood in attendance, Mrs. Bennet insisted it was but a trifling dinner party. Like most gatherings in the area, it was loud and boisterous. Mrs.
Bennet's happy trills rose above the crowd as she boasted of her daughter's fortuitous match. When the hostess' attention was drawn elsewhere, the noisy giggles of the younger girls and their demands for dancing drew everyone's
attention.
With such a crowd, no one found anything to criticise when the betrothed
couple slipped outside for a breath of fresh air and sanity.
"I am sorry, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth sighed. With a half chuckle, she added, "I suppose, had I agreed to an Assembly, this could have been avoided." Her eyes twinkled up at him. "But then you would have been required to dance."
As had become customary when they were out walking, Darcy took her hand,
and placed it in the crook of his arm. "Do not concern yourself, Elizabeth."
Locking eyes with her, he added, "And I do not mind dancing when I am
particularly acquainted with my partner." He looked away before the
enchantment of the fading sun took hold.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful garden.
"Elizabeth," he said, after seating them on a stone bench. "I..." he paused, suddenly doubting the wisdom of what he was about to do. Gathering his
courage, he began again. "Tomorrow we wed." It came out more like a whisper.
"Yes," she managed before looking away to hide the blush that had begun to bloom.
"Elizabeth." He swallowed, trying to keep his heart in its proper place. "Do you still wish to marry me?" Unsure of what he would do if she said no, his brow creased tightly.
The question hit Elizabeth like a bucket of cold water. Her heart plummeted to the ground and her stomach knotted. Since that first afternoon back at
Longbourn, she had wondered when this moment would come. Darcy was
patient, but there were limits to what a man should have to bear. Her mother's fawning, gloating, and probing questions had obviously tested him.
Under other circumstances, Elizabeth may have been prone to spitefulness, but in that moment, the pain was too great. "I understand," she choked out. She turned her back towards him. "I release you."
"What?" He reached out, but stopped short, scared of driving her further away.
"Release me? Why?" He thought his heart was racing before, but now it was absolutely wild. "I... I ... How... I was not asking to break our engagement." His voice dropped. "I needed assurance that you wished the same."
For several moments, the only sound was that of a gentle breeze and the dull din from the house. Finally, Elizabeth turned towards him again, but her face was a strange mixture of anger and doubt.
"Are you certain, Fitzwilliam? Are you certain you still wish an association to such a family? My mother is loud, and thinks about nothing but seeing her
daughters well married, and my sisters have seemingly lost all sense of
propriety. Even my father... I see the way you flinch at my mother's
comments." She shook her head. "Surely your aunt and uncle must be horrified to learn they might have a connection to such a family."
Tears stung her eyes and she again turned away. She would not let him see her hurt.
Despite every urge to pull her into his arms and assure her those things did not matter, he only laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "All mothers wish to see their daughters well situated. And your sisters... they are young." Unable to give credence to his words, she remained stiff and distant. "Elizabeth..."
"Forgive me. It seems I still can not stay my tongue." After taking a cleansing breath, she turned to him, but could not meet his eye. She swallowed visibly. "I do not wish you to regret your decision."
"Elizabeth. I could ne --" A shout came from the direction of the house, interrupting him. "Liii-zzyyy!" They both recognized Lydia's voice. "Lizzy!
Our Mother is looking for you!"
The moment was lost.
"It appears we have been missed," Darcy said dryly, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to both thank and curse Lydia.
"So it does." Elizabeth stood, but before she could move towards the house, Darcy grabbed her hand.
"I shall see you tomorrow at the chapel at ten." The question was in his tone.
"Tomorrow at ten," Elizabeth replied softly.
A loud guffaw behind him drew Darcy's attention back to his sitting room. He checked the cl
ock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. He ran a hand over his
face, the miscommunication of last night still haunting him. She had thought he wished to break the engagement, and was going to release him!
He returned to his seat, pointedly ignoring the looks from his friends. He did not care about their baiting and ribald remarks. The only thing he wanted was to be wed, and to travel on to Pemberley with Elizabeth. If only the damnable clock would move faster!
At Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet had risen uncharacteristically early and demanded the rest of the house attend to her. Thus, before the sun had even fully cleared the horizon, the house was in chaos.
Thankfully, years of experience had taught the two eldest Bennet sisters how to cope. After sneaking out for an early morning walk, Elizabeth remained in her room while Jane took it upon herself to look after her.
While Jane dressed, Elizabeth quietly chewed on a muffin. In just a few hours, she would forever more be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. The very idea sent a surge of unmitigated joy through her.
Last night she feared Darcy had changed his mind. After spending a week with her family, she could not blame him.
Her mother had been in rare form. When she was not commenting on
Elizabeth's fine gowns, she was paging through journals, noting the fashionable fabrics and furniture Elizabeth simply must use to decorate the Darcy homes, or inquiring over Darcy's connections that might lead to potential matches for her other daughters.
Kitty and Lydia had not been much better. Their behaviour went unchecked as they made little secret of where their interest lay; asking how soon they could visit Elizabeth in London, and at what times officers were in residence at
Whitehall.
She was torn between mortification, shame, and love for her family. She could not choose her family, but Fitzwilliam could. What a relief it had been when he indicated he had not changed his mind!
"Lizzy," Jane called. "Are you well?"
Elizabeth smiled. "Yes, of course. Forgive me, I was wool-gathering."
"Only you," Jane teased. "I would be a bundle of nerves, unable to keep a single thought in my head. Are you ready for me to start your hair?"