An Engaging Friendship

by AmyJ

  After stuffing the last bite of muffin in her mouth, Elizabeth took Jane's seat at the vanity.

  "Lord Blakeslee will be quite pleased," Elizabeth commented on Jane's finished appearance.

  "He is a good man, Lizzy, but we are only friends. He is an earl, and must make a good match."

  "If he is so good, he would not let something like that stop him, dear sister."

  Noting her sister did not blush as she expected, she inquired further. "Jane, is there something you have not told me?"

  "Of course not, Lizzy." Jane replied, avoiding her sister's eye. "Now, hold your head still, or I shall call our mother to tend to you."

  Not wishing to mar these last moments with her sister, Elizabeth dropped the subject. For the remainder of the time, the two sisters spoke of lighter topics such as the speed of the post between Longbourn and Pemberley, Longbourn's

  herb and vegetable garden, and Jane's upcoming trip to Hunsford.

  Darcy stood at the altar. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked to doors of the chapel. At any moment, at least he hoped, they would open and admit his bride. For the time being, however, they remained

  unmoved.

  He looked over those gathered, and saw his sister. She looked so mature. She sat up straight, her head high, and smiled at him. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and anticipation. If he were not already head over heels in love with Elizabeth, his sister's countenance would be all that was needed to convince him he was doing the right thing. Elizabeth was everything Georgiana had ever wanted or needed in a sister, friend, and role model.

  Six months. Just six months ago, his world was a murky grey, clouded in guilt, shame, and anger. Georgiana had sunk into a deep depression, and he had not the slightest idea how to rescue her.

  Six months ago, Elizabeth -- Li'l Beth -- was but a fond memory; a reminder of easier, happier times.

  Six months ago, he had come to Netherfield, to Hertfordshire, as a temporary escape. Instead, he found his and his sister's salvation.

  In the past six months, he had smiled more, laughed more, and felt more alive than he had in all of the last six years. In the past six months, he had fallen so in love with a woman, that just the utterance of her name could send a warm tingle through him.

  He looked towards the doors again. Still they did not open. He glanced at

  Wesley, who returned an amused smirk. He could only imagine what he looked

  like. Someday it would be Wesley's turn, and he would be just as unmerciful.

  For now, all he could do was turn away and look back at the doors again.

  His heart leapt into his throat when he saw them open!

  Rays of sunlight entered the stone chapel. Then, as though she had ridden one the sunbeams, Elizabeth entered.

  Darcy forgot how to breathe; all he could do was stare. Elizabeth. There was no other description apt enough to describe her. What had he done to deserve such a vision of loveliness?

  The closer Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet came, the faster his heart beat, until it was beating so fast he became light-headed. Indeed, so overcome was he by the

  lady approaching him, he would later be amazed that he remained upright.

  With a shuddering breath, he managed once again to get air into his lungs, and by the time Elizabeth reached the front of the church, he had recollected

  himself.

  The moment he had dreamed of was here. As Mr. Bennet placed Elizabeth's

  hand in his, he gave it a reaffirming squeeze, and then turned towards the vicar.

  "Dearly Beloved: We have come together in the presence of God..." the vicar began. After the admonitions on the purpose and sanctity of marriage, he

  instructed Darcy to repeat after him. "I, Fitzwilliam George Howard Darcy, take thee..."

  "...to have and to hold..." the vicar continued.

  Darcy nearly choked on the words, suddenly realizing that even after the

  ceremony, she was not his to have and to hold -- no matter how much he

  wanted to do just that. Oh, legally he could demand the rights of a husband, but he did not want their joining to be done out of obligation; and she did not welcome his advances, caresses, or even his kisses.

  Those five little words served as a reminder that this was a marriage of

  convenience, a marriage between friends. That is what they had agreed to.

  Above everything, he was a gentleman, and would maintain his side of the

  agreement until she gave him a sign he could do otherwise.

  Elizabeth was not faring much better than Darcy. As she entered the church, her eyes immediately flew to him. If there were others present, she was

  unaware of them. Only he mattered.

  Today, she would become his wife. She was uncertain what all that entailed, but she trusted him. He would never hurt her.

  Her father placed her hand in Darcy's, and shyly she looked up at him. Feeling his reassuring squeeze of her hand washed away any trace of anxiety. It may not be love, but it was friendship; a deep and abiding friendship. For now, that would have to be enough.

  After reciting the words that would bind them together for the remainder of her life, the vicar led them in prayer. To that prayer, Elizabeth amended a silent supplication. It was a simple plea: that one day her love would be returned.

  That one day, she would be more than just his lawful wife; she would be his wife in body and soul.

  Finally, the vicar said, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

  The registry was signed, and Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy made their way out of the church.

  The wedding breakfast was a lively, crowded affair. Mrs. Bennet had spared no expense in the food or décor. As the weather was warm and the guests plenty, most people found comfort out of doors.

  Together, Elizabeth and Darcy made their rounds to each of their guests,

  receiving congratulations and warm wishes, and thanking them for their

  attendance.

  Elizabeth had never been happier. She had married the man she loved above all others; she was Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Somehow it did not seem real yet. She kept expecting him to turn into someone else, or disappear all together.

  He did not. Indeed, the two were almost inseparable.

  Elizabeth could not help but be amused at how well they had perfected their show. They were always connected in some way; she either held his arm, or his hand was at her back, gently guiding her through crowd. Would the charade

  continue after today? She hoped it would. She enjoyed this closeness, even if it did not hold any deeper meaning.

  Lord Blakeslee was one of the first to offer his congratulations, complete with a gallant bow and kiss on the hand. Elizabeth was amused as others followed suit, mimicking the esteemed gentleman.

  Bingley, too, offered his congratulations, though Elizabeth could not help but notice the interaction between the two friends was stilted. The possible reason was quick to make her presence known.

  As much as they both would have preferred to avoid that particular guest, they could not. They both let out a small sigh when Miss Bingley approached.

  Elizabeth steeled herself for the woman's words. The black veil conveyed her sentiments on the marriage perfectly, yet the way she was tracking them, she clearly had more to say. Only the years of friendship between Mr. Bingley and her now husband kept Elizabeth from having the harridan thrown out of the

  house.

  "Mr. Darcy!" Caroline cried, her voice syrupy sweet. Audaciously, she kissed him on the cheek as though they were family. "Mrs. Darcy." She looked as though she might choke on the words.

  Elizabeth curtsied. "Miss Bingley. It was very kind of you to travel all the way to Hertfordshire to share in our joy. Indeed, Mr. Darcy and I did not at all expect it."

  "It was not an imposition for such a dear friend as Mr. Darcy." Caroline replied with a forced smile. She then went on to tell how much she had been enjoying the refined company o
f Darcy's aunt and cousins.

  When neither could take any more, Elizabeth interrupted her effusions.

  "Forgive me, Miss Bingley, but there are other guests that require our attention.

  I thank you again for coming." Hardly even waiting for a response, Darcy led Elizabeth away to join another party, leaving a put out Miss Bingley behind.

  Finally, the hour arrived for the newly wedded couple to leave. The gathered crowd followed the pair to their carriage to say their final goodbyes.

  Elizabeth gave each of her siblings, as well as Georgiana, a hug goodbye, and made promises of letters. She then took her leave of the Matlocks.

  Much to her surprise, Lady Matlock took her hand and squeezed it

  affectionately. "Congratulations, Mrs. Darcy," she said sincerely. "I believe you and Fitzwilliam shall do very well together. I am honoured to call you niece."

  After placing a familial kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, she released the bride and stepped back, allowing her to join Darcy.

  So stunned at such warmth and acceptance from the great lady, Elizabeth

  nearly stumbled on her way to the carriage. Was it possible she had misjudged her? Her thoughts were interrupted by Darcy taking her hand to assist her into the carriage.

  As Darcy climbed in, he glanced at the seat across from Elizabeth, pondering where to sit. Realizing their family and friends could see him, he had no

  choice; he had to sit next to Elizabeth. He cast an uncertain look, but upon receiving a small nod, indicating she understood, he sat. He was careful to sit close enough not to raise suspicion by the onlookers, but put enough space

  between them not to impose.

  After a final wave goodbye, the carriage jerked away, as a cheer lifted and slippers showered its wake.

  They were outside of Meryton before either Darcy or Elizabeth said a word.

  "Do you intend to ride in silence, or are we to have conversation, Mrs. Darcy?"

  He emphasized her name.

  Elizabeth chuckled. "Whatever you prefer, dear husband," she replied archly.

  If either of them had any idea the effect of such banter had on the other, they may have thought twice before continuing in that vein. Being blind to the

  other's feelings, and not wishing to be at a disadvantage, they carried on.

  "So now I am dear?" He could not help grinning as Elizabeth blushed. It took her but a moment to overcome it though.

  "Of course," she said as a matter of fact. "It has been my experience that either a person is dear or he is not. I have heard Georgiana call you ‘dear brother'

  many times. Therefore you are dear. As you are also now my husband, you are, by extension, my dear husband."

  Darcy could not but be amused at her logic. With a merry chuckle, he replied,

  "Then that would make you my dear wife." When Elizabeth shook her head in

  disagreement, he iterated with mock gravity, "I have on more than one occasion, heard Jane call you ‘dear sister'. By your own logic madam, you are my dear wife."

  "Ah, but you forget, dear husband, that it is impossible for Jane to find fault with anyone, and considers everyone dear. Since we know that not to be the

  case, it must follow that her opinion on whether one is dear or not can not be trusted.

  Darcy said nothing more. The only movement his lips had any inclination to

  make was to capture hers. As that was not an option, he simply sat back,

  willing the blood in his veins to cool.

  He had sorely underestimated the effect being alone in a carriage with her

  would have on his equanimity. Worse, he could not even fall back to his

  previous mantra of Li'l Beth; that had ceased working quite some time ago.

  Somewhere along the way, Li'l Beth and Elizabeth had become the same,

  beautiful, alluring temptation, sent to torment him. How he was to survive the three day trip to Pemberley was beyond him.

  Taking his silence as a sign of defeat, Elizabeth sat looking out the window with a smug expression. Every once in a while, she would glance at him,

  expecting him to direct the conversation.

  Deciding it was unwise to enter into any manner of debate, Darcy spent much of the remainder of the journey to London outlining - in great detail - his plans for their journey to Pemberley. Each stop was discussed, along with their

  meals, the accommodations for the evening, as well as alternative plans in case of inclement weather.

  If Elizabeth thought it odd that he would discuss the arrangements with such vigour, she did not let on. She asked a few curious questions, but otherwise simply nodded.

  When the sounds of the city could be heard, Darcy leaned over and closed the curtains.

  "Ashamed of your bride already?" Elizabeth teased.

  Darcy caught her hand and placed a tender kiss upon it. "Never," he said lowly, sending shivers up Elizabeth's spine. Louder, and affecting a teasing tone, he said, "Perhaps I simply do not wish others to see my beautiful, blushing bride."

  Instantly making his statement true, Elizabeth turned a deep shade of red.

  "Fitzwilliam," she admonished.

  Darcy laughed. "I only do not want to subject either of us to the stares of the town folk. A wedding carriage - especially a crested one - can be spotted from miles away."

  "Surely it is not as bad as that."

  "You shall see for yourself when the Season begins."

  "Very well," Elizabeth replied having no alternative but to concede. "Certainly we shall not ride all the way to Pemberley with the curtains drawn."

  "I do not think you would keep them closed, even if I wished it."

  Elizabeth eyed him with mock wariness. "You know me too well, sir. Then again, I have taken a vow to obey you, just this morning."

  Darcy thought of many commands he could issue, but gave voice to none of

  them. If she only knew the fire with which she was playing.

  The Darcy carriage easily made its way to Arryndale, where the newly married couple was greeted with great enthusiasm by the house staff. Already well

  acquainted with their new mistress, they knew there was no cause for concern.

  So, after serving Elizabeth and Darcy a hearty dinner, they were all dismissed for their own festivities.

  The two passed away the evening in the library, each in their own seat, with their own book. As night grew near, Elizabeth's anxiety rose. She was uncertain what to expect. Would Darcy insist on consummating the marriage

  immediately? When they had become engaged, he had said it could be

  postponed. Yet, that had been several months ago. He may have changed his

  mind.

  She both hoped and feared he had. Her information about the wedding night

  had been conflicting. Aunt Gardiner and her mother had both said it could be painful, yet both had also said at times it could also be enjoyable. But they had not said how to make it enjoyable, or how to minimize the pain. Her mother

  had told her to lie still and not say anything, but she could not fathom how she was to enjoy herself if she could not move or speak.

  After spending an hour or so pretending to peruse her book, she forced herself to yawn. Closing her book, she said, "I think I shall retire, Fitzwilliam." She could not look at him. "My mother had the whole house up early this morning."

  Darcy stood, and placed his book on the table next to his chair. Gallantly, he offered her his hand. "May I escort you?"

  Elizabeth swallowed and nodded. Without a word, she took her husband's arm

  as he led her to their apartments.

  The silence between them as they walked was almost deafening. They stopped

  in front of the mistress' door, facing each other, but neither of them said word.

  After several moments of studying each other's footwear, Darcy finally leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Good night, Elizabeth. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call for me... or
one of the servants."

  "Thank you, Fitzwilliam." Elizabeth murmured before scurrying into her room, alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The following morning Elizabeth sat at the vanity in her dressing room

  watching Penny finish pinning up her hair. As she and Darcy would be leaving for Pemberley just after breaking their fast, Elizabeth had insisted on a simple hair style.

  When Penny pronounced her hair complete, Elizabeth carefully placed the

  white cap she had been fondling over the chignon, while letting her curls peek out from underneath. Her stomach tumbled with excitement. She turned her

  head first to the right, and then to the left, examining the effect. The white cap was more than a pretty piece of lace. It was a symbol, a statement. She was no longer Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn; she was a married woman, Mrs.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. Now, all the world would know.

  In the mirror, she could see Penny look on with satisfaction. Though they had only known each other a few weeks, they had developed a good rapport.

  Penny's cherub-like face, hid both age and an intelligence that was appreciated.

  "Shall you miss London?" Elizabeth asked, while gathering her shawl about her arms. During her initial interview, Elizabeth had learned Penny had spent most of her days in the city.

  "Perhaps a little, Madame, but I am told Pemberley is a lovely place."

  "It is." Elizabeth said absently, unable to keep from adjusting her cap one last time. Then, after giving Penny some final instructions for her trunks, she

  prepared to meet her husband for the morning meal.

  She stalled a moment at the door, wondering what her first day of marriage

  would bring. Would Fitzwilliam still be pleased by their marriage, or would he begin to question his actions when faced with the reality of the situation? She placed her hand on the door knob, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best.

  The moment Elizabeth's door opened, Darcy snapped to attention. With an

  almost imperceptible shake of the head, he stood and greeted his wife. "Good morning, Elizabeth. I trust you slept well." He offered her his arm. Noticing the white cap, his mouth twitched upwards.

  "I am well. You did not need to wait for me."