While most young ladies of her acquaintance favoured the springtime with its romantic notions, it was autumn that had always been Elizabeth’s favourite time of the year. It was autumn, with its special scents and warm inviting colours, that made her feel at the same time both invigorated and at peace with herself.
She quickly dressed and made her way down the stairs. Once outside, she was soon following the now familiar path that had granted her Mr. Darcy’s . . . Fitzwilliam’s company on so many previous occasions. Despite the fact that yesterday’s heavy rain was making a muddy disgrace of her half-boots, she could not seem to banish the smile from her face.
Autumn had not completely taken over the season as there were still many summer flowers clinging to life. Some late blooming roses still remained quite gloriously atop their low-lying bushes, and even the jasmine was still in evidence. However, the leaves of the trees that hung above them were already beginning to turn.
She looked up, and she saw him; his regal appearance as he cantered towards her making it impossible to turn her eyes away. He dismounted and immediately was at her side.
He offered her his left arm, and as she placed her hand upon it, he brought it to his lips. Elizabeth watched as he bestowed a kiss upon each of her fingers, and as he did, she unconsciously wet her lips. When their eyes met, it was her mouth that she now wanted him to taste. As if he had read her mind, he turned towards her and sweetly kissed her inviting lips.
They walked for some time in complete silence. There was no need for words as they each knew the other’s thoughts. They were in love, and they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. Words would only seem superfluous.
Eventually Elizabeth broke the silence between them as she enquired, “I gather the newlyweds left Netherfield this morning to begin their honeymoon?”
“Yes, they got an early start, but if the smile on Bingley’s face at breakfast was any indication, I would say that the honeymoon had already begun.”
Elizabeth blushed on her sister’s behalf.
“That brings us to our own honeymoon, Elizabeth. I hope it will not be in the too distant future. I would wish to marry soon, before the harsh weather sets in. We could spend some time in London, and then it is my hope to enjoy the Christmas season at Pemberley. The main house is most impressive at that time of year. I should love to have you see it so festively decorated for the holidays.”
Elizabeth turned her head to meet the sincere look in his eyes. “I could think of nothing more perfect, Fitzwilliam. Of course, my mother will argue that she needs more time to plan a proper wedding, but I believe we can count on my father’s support.”
Hearing her say his name, he could not help himself as he again drew her closer and brought his mouth to hers once more. Now that he knew she loved him, it seemed he wanted to kiss her all the time. And with each new kiss they shared, his anticipation to intimately familiarize himself with every curve of her body increased tenfold.
“Even that seems too long to wait to make you mine, Elizabeth,” he murmured as he moved his lips to the fragrant curve of her neck.
Elizabeth’s arms reached around him, drawing him closer as Darcy glided his hands lightly over her body before resting them at the small of her back.
They stood there for a long time just wrapped in each other’s arms, neither wishing to let the other go. “Shall we go speak with your father?” Darcy finally whispered. He felt the slight nod of her head against his cheek.
With similar sighs, they reluctantly disengaged and resumed their walk back towards Longbourn.
********
Alyssa held the cameo broaches lovingly in her hands; the last two pieces of her mother’s legacy. She had sworn she would never give them up, yet here she was about to sell them for a pittance of their real worth. But no amount of money could ever replace their value in her heart.
Alyssa struggled with her thoughts. Perhaps Mr. Morgan would be willing to bargain with her again. Perhaps he would allow her to buy back the broaches once she was wed. But was she willing to take such a risk? She knew Mr. Morgan would sell them to the first more profitable offer that came along. She could expect no loyalty from him in that regard.
The mere thought of handing these precious items over to someone as unscrupulous as Mr. Morgan was exceedingly upsetting, and suddenly she remembered Mr. Darcy’s pocket watch. How had Mr. Wickham come to be in possession of it? Had he stolen it? Certainly Mr. Darcy would never have willingly given it up, for she knew that the watch was as dear to Fitzwilliam as these broaches were to her. Under what dastardly circumstances had the watch changed hands?
Did Mr. Wickham have no conscience at all? Was he so unfeeling? How could he strip away one’s dignity and pride and simply toss it aside as if it were nothing? And why was the man allowed to get away with such treachery over and over again?
Facing the reality of her situation, she knew that once she was wed to Mr. Clavering, Mr. Wickham would never leave her in peace. He would constantly threaten to expose her if she did not comply with his wishes. And what if some day he wanted more than just money? Would she be willing to acquiesce to his demands? Was there no one to stop this horrid monster?
Alyssa carefully placed the broaches back upon the velvet in her jewel case. She could not bear to part with them. As tears threatened to fall, she knew she had to find another way.
The next evening came much too quickly. The dinner with Mr. Clavering and his mother had gone well, considering Alyssa’s nervous state and the fact that she had used the last of her credit with the merchants in town to provide the sumptuous meal they had enjoyed. It seemed inconceivable that in a matter of a few days, all such worries would vanish into thin air as she became Lady Alyssa Clavering. But until that event took place, she still had to get through the rest of the night and keep her appointment with Mr. Wickham. She checked the clock over the mantle; at least tonight she would not be late.
The park was in complete darkness. Only the moon was her guide as she entered and again made her way past the monument of St. George. As expected, Wickham was there waiting for her.
“On time, I see. I shall take that as a good sign, Miss Marston.”
Just the sound of his voice made her tremble. Cautiously she watched as he approached her.
“Do you have the money?”
“I beg you, Mr. Wickham; can we not come to some other arrangement?”
“You are stalling, Alyssa. Do you have the money or not?” he impatiently demanded.
Alyssa remained silent. She could feel the racing of her heart and heard her blood pumping through her head as if an army of soldiers were marching through it.
“For the last time, do you have the money, or will I be paying a call upon Mr. Clavering tomorrow?”
Alyssa looked up at the man who stood between her and a life of privilege. The look on his face declared that he was not a man to be trifled with.
When she reluctantly reached into her reticule, the smirk on Wickham’s face conveyed the smugness of his victory.
“Tell me, Mr. Wickham, do you ever feel remorse for any of your misdeeds, some concern or perhaps sympathy for your victims?”
“Remorse? Sympathy? Really, Alyssa. To think that I once imagined that you and I were cut from the same cloth. Only a fool allows such emotions to rule his life. It is every man for himself. Surely you have learned that by now.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right.”
“Of course, I am. Each of us must do whatever it takes to survive. Whatever induced you to ask such a question?”
“I just thought that perhaps there might be a chance of some redemption for your soul.”
Wickham let out an amused snicker. “I am more interested in restoring my bank roll than my soul, Miss Marston. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” she replied with a faint smile. “Yes, I’m afraid it does.”
Wickham watched as the moon reflected off the metal object she suddenly pulled from her reticul
e. Before he could react, a loud noise invaded the quiet night air, and then there was nothing but silence.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The banns of matrimony had already been read at Meryton church for two consecutive Sundays. Mr. Bennet had, of course, given his blessing to their union. After all, it was his opinion that if not for his intervention, the match might not have come about at all.
Darcy and Georgiana were still residing at Netherfield, as Darcy had no desire to leave Hertfordshire and his Elizabeth. The siblings had remained there since Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding and had been there to welcome ho
me the newlyweds upon their return from their honeymoon.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had resumed his military duties but had called on Georgiana whenever he had the chance between assignments. But today it was Darcy whose company he sought. He found him alone in the library and closed the door behind him.
“I have some news regarding Wickham,” he began.
“At last,” responded Darcy as he put down his book to give Richard his full attention.
“His body was found some time ago in a park just on the outskirts of Cornhill in Northumberland. It was obviously his intention to reach Scotland. He was only miles from the border.”
Darcy was stunned by the news, and yet he could not help the wave of relief that swept over him. Elizabeth and Georgiana would never have to concern themselves with his treachery ever again.
“What were the circumstances of his death?”
“He was shot at close range from what the authorities could tell. He looks to have been the victim of a robbery. When his body was discovered, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back. Every one of his pockets had been picked clean, and it took nearly a month to establish his identity. They questioned several of the local residents, but no one seems to know anything about him or why he was in the park that night.”
“I would like to say that I am sorry, but I am not,” said Darcy. “Whoever shot him has done the world a favour as far as I am concerned. I am now convinced that it was Wickham who caused Elizabeth’s carriage accident, and for that reason alone, I shall not feel a moment of sorrow for his death.”
“Shall I be the one to inform Georgiana?” asked the colonel.
“Yes, go to her, Richard. I do not believe that she has abiding affections for the man, but it still might come as a shock to her.”
He looked directly at Richard then. “She appears quite happy, Richard,” said Darcy quietly. “I know it is still early days, but it seems I may have judged you too harshly.”
Richard’s only reply was a slight nod of his head as he turned and left the library in search of Georgiana.
He found her in the music room where she sat at the pianoforte. He silently observed her as she concentrated on the piece of music she was playing. How would she react to the news of Wickham’s death? Did she still harbour some affection for him? Did not every woman hold a special place in her heart for her first love?
As soon as her eyes alit upon him, she rushed towards him with a welcoming smile. “What a pleasant surprise, Richard. I had no idea you would be calling this afternoon.”
He gathered her into his arms and brushed a kiss across her brow. “I had business to attend to with your brother. But I could not leave without seeing you.” He leaned back and placed a hand beneath her chin, tilting her face upwards as he gently placed his mouth over hers. A soft sigh escaped her as soon as their lips met.
“I have to impart some unpleasant news,” he stated as he reluctantly released her from his arms.
“What is it, Richard? You look so serious; is it something dreadful?”
“It is about Mr. Wickham.”
“What about Mr. Wickham?”
“I am afraid I must inform you of his death. I have been notified by the authorities in Northumberland that he was shot during a robbery.”
Georgiana looked up at him in complete bewilderment. “Why are you sorry, Richard? He was a horrible, horrible man! When I think of all the pain and heartache my brother and others have suffered because of his actions, I can only hope that the devil has taken his soul to the deepest bowels of hell.”
The smile that automatically surfaced upon Richard’s face had to be forcefully suppressed. Was this his sweet Georgiana? Never before had he heard her express herself quite so . . . unequivocally.
Georgiana noted the odd look on Richards’ face.
“Did you think . . . were you under the impression that I had tender feelings for Mr. Wickham? I never loved him, Richard. I admit I was flattered by his attentions; what fifteen year old girl would not be? But that was all it was. On each of his visits to Ramsgate he would importune me to agree to an elopement. I was much too shy to voice my objections and finally I relented, but I never loved him, Richard. Whatever remorse I suffered was due to my shame, and not to any lingering affections. Please, please say you do not hold my foolishness against me,” she nearly sobbed.
He cradled her in his arms. “Of course, I do not. None of that was your fault, Georgie. You were young and inexperienced, and he took advantage of your innocence. Now that he is dead, we will bury the past along with him.”
Georgiana burrowed herself in Richard’s secure embrace. “It has always been you, Richard. You are the only man I will ever love.”
********
Mrs. Bennet, of course, had been beside herself with happiness at the prospect of Elizabeth’s marriage to Mr. Darcy. But her joy had been curtailed by their plans to marry so quickly and without much fanfare. Despite the fact that Mr. Darcy had offered to walk Elizabeth down the center aisle of St. James, the couple had opted for a simple ceremony at Meryton Church.
Elizabeth had the radiant glow of a woman in love. She wore a simple white gown of layered silk, embellished with only a row of embroidered flowers across the bodice that matched those stitched upon the toes of her special slippers. The delicate white jasmine buds that adorned her hair emphasized the rich deep brunette of her beautiful tresses. She kept her gaze steady upon Mr. Darcy as she and her father slowly proceeded down the aisle.
The unmistakable love in Mr. Darcy’s eyes was focused on her lovely face as she neared him. At last he fully understood why a man would risk his heart for the sake of love. A life without her would now seem inconceivable. Whether fate should grant them only a year together or more than fifty, he would never regret loving her. He would cherish each and every day that she was his. Mr. Bennet may credit him with saving his daughter, but deep down in his heart Darcy knew that she had rescued him as well.
As Mr. Bennet placed Elizabeth’s hand in Mr. Darcy’s, he could not help the tears that welled in his eyes. His daughter had overcome all of the challenges that fateful night had forced upon her. She stood there now looking so graceful, so confident, so beautiful.
The couple stood side by side in front of the vicar as they each promised to love and comfort one another, to hold each other close and to remain faithful to each other for all the days of their lives.
With eyes brimming with tears, Elizabeth turned to look upon the man with whom she was now joined in holy matrimony. They sweetly kissed as the vicar pronounced them man and wife. “At last you are mine, Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered.
They had foregone a wedding ball in lieu of an intimate wedding breakfast feast consisting of their family and only their closest acquaintances. Lady Catherine and Cousin Anne had declined their invitation, but everyone else was happy to attend the joyous occasion. Kitty was escorted by Jeremey McGregor, and several other neighbours stopped by to convey their congratulations and best wishes. Among them was Mr. Whitley, the new owner of Purvis Lodge, who took the opportunity to introduce himself to his new neighbors. By the time the afternoon had ended, Elizabeth was dizzy from all the excitement.
When it was time for the newlyweds to leave, Elizabeth hugged her parents and her sisters goodbye. As she was about to step into their carriage, she turned and tossed her bouquet. As Lydia jumped through
the air to capture it, it bounced off her hands and landed squarely in Mary’s arms.
********
Their coach arrived in London as evening was just descending. The gaslights along Grosvenor Square were already lit, and their fulgent light cut through the darkness. The scene only added to the romantic atmosphere that already existed inside the carriage.
It had taken all of Darcy’s self-control to restrain himself during their ride to London. He had never wanted to touch her so desperately. Her soft looking skin and the aroma of the jasmine in her hair had tempted him nearly beyond his endurance, but he knew once he intimately touched her, he would not be able to stop. He had even denied himself the pleasure of her kisses for fear of his body’s reaction. He took a deep breath as he anticipated the night ahead of them.
Elizabeth lay comfortably nestled in Mr. Darcy’s arms. When the carriage came to a stop, he sweetly turned her face upwards and kissed her mouth softly. “We are home, Elizabeth.”
“Home,” she repeated softly. “I like the sound of that.”
As they entered the townhouse, Mrs. Bates was there to greet them, and Darcy introduced his new wife.
“Welcome home,” she said cheerily. “I have prepared a light supper. Would you like it served now, or would you rather wait, sir?”
“I believe Mrs. Darcy and I would like to freshen up first after our long journey, Mrs. Bates. We will be back down directly.” he replied.
“Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I will see that everything is readied for you. Oh, I left your mail in the study, along with a small package that arrived for you some time ago.”
“We will attend to all of that tomorrow, Mrs. Bates. Come, Elizabeth; let me show you to our quarters,” said Darcy as he took her hand, hoping his eagerness to be alone with his new bride was not too obvious.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Darcy led her to the first door, and as she entered, Elizabeth was pleased to find a large bedchamber, beautifully decorated in soft pastels. A fire burned brightly in the hearth.
The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love Page 32