The Golden Apples of the Sun
Page 31
Elizabeth had made constant allowances for her mother in the past, but now she was slowly accepting the idea that her mother would never show her the smallest sign of approval. Accordingly, Elizabeth’s days of trying to please her were over. For herself, she had put her youth behind her and was determined to follow Darcy’s example and love him with her whole heart. She would hold nothing back. In the four days leading up to the wedding, she had decided that she would share as much of her childhood with him as she could.
Every day she had packed a picnic lunch, taken him by the hand and they had set out on foot for some distant river, tree or view that had had formed the backdrop to her youthful wanderings. She had tried to show him what these solitary moments had meant to her: how she had been touched by the warmth of the sun pouring down upon her, by the fragile petals of a flower and the soft drone of a bee until she had begun to see how everything, including herself, was part of this whole singing world: that together, each manifestation of life was a prism reflecting its individuality, yet forming part of a great shining whole.
And….wonder of wonders, he had understood, had long thought along the same lines for, as he said, “No one can dwell in nature day after day without seeing its interconnectedness and being visited by thoughts of the single truth that underlies all existence.”
This, he said, was what made riding such a joy to him. One could range far and wide and see so much more. In the coming winter, on cold, crisp days when the breath came from one’s mouth in a cloud, the two of them could share the sparkling wonderland of icy whiteness that Pemberley became. And in the spring that followed, there would be the joy of clear, running rivers, delicate blades of grass nosing their way through moist, black soil and the fragile promise of new life in the tiniest of green buds.
Darcy had promised that he would be a patient teacher: his reward would be the joy they would share for he knew with certainty that, once over her fear, Elizabeth would love riding. For the first time, she began to see that she might.
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After lingering for some time outside the front door after Darcy had ridden away, Elizabeth was passing through the entrance hall when her father came to the door of his study and beckoned her inside.
“There will be no time tomorrow to say what must be said before you leave us, Lizzy,” he said, pulling out a chair for her opposite his.
“I want you to know, before you leave this house, that I have watched you endure with grace the trials that both circumstances and your mother have put you through,” he said, laying his hand on her shoulder as he walked by. “But I have always thought that a tree grows strongest when it has endured against the wind and similarly, that we humans can only appreciate great joy when we have known what it is to feel pain.”
He sat down opposite her and taking off his glasses, polished them before he continued. “I know that life has always seemed effortlessly easy for someone like Jane, perhaps for the very reason that she does not look as penetratingly into its secrets as you do. But understand this Lizzy: in this life, nothing goes to waste – not even pain. Your difficulties have been part of what has made you the deep thinker that you are today.”
He looked up at her, his eyes a tired blue. “I tell you these things because I want you to understand that no one succeeds without failing at first. I know that your mother and I have not set the greatest of examples, and you, my darling girl, are the sort to set yourself a life-quest: the sort to follow your dreams. I wish you a blissful marriage, but remember that there will never be a time when you and you husband can say that you have arrived. It is the journey itself that is the destination: the present moment is the only one in which you can find your joy. Remember that and be happy.”
Chapter 36
For everything that's lovely is
But a brief, dreamy, kind delight.
W.B. Yeats
It was morning at last. The day had dawned grey and cloudy and as Darcy and Richard approached the little church set under the trees, it began to rain. Above his head, Darcy could hear the soft pattering of raindrops, and ahead of him, rich red autumn leaves begin to spiral downwards to join others that already formed a thick carpet on the pathway leading up to the porch.
Constructed of light grey stone, the architecture of the church was simple, although the stone detail around the doors and windows was more finely decorative. The style suggested that the structure was several centuries old, and, as Darcy pushed open the heavy wooden doors, he was struck immediately by the beauty of its interior.
Hundreds of candles and a profusion of greenery warmed and softened the grey stone and blackened wood of the nave and altar. Candles had been set in the windows to bring out the glowing opulence of the stained glass whilst garlands of leaves adorned the side walls of the nave, contrasting richly against the deep crimsons, golds and blacks of the Bennet family hatchments that hung there.
He stepped forward into the nave and looking around him saw that almost all these pews were filled with silent villagers. Their knowing smiles told him that the incident with Elizabeth and Granny Wiseman in their village had not been forgotten. He returned their smiles with a generous one of his own and immediately the air filled with their soft murmurs. Darcy was quietly pleased with this reaction. These were Elizabeth’s people; today they became his.
The warm glow he felt carried him down the aisle to where he could see both his family and Elizabeth’s sitting in the two front rows. Their heads turned to watch as he and Richard approached. Together the two men genuflected before the altar, and then moved to the right where Darcy exchanged a shaky smile with Richard’s mother who sat with her husband in the pew close by.
“Nervous, Darce?” murmured Richard at his side.
“No, she will come,” he replied with quiet certainty.
Just then, a stir at the back of the church caused them to look up. The doors opened to admit a blushing Kitty and behind her, his Elizabeth. Raindrops glistened on the flowers in her hair. Her dress, a simple gown of soft green, spoke of her guileless approach to what was, for them, an honest marriage for love. Her skin glowed, but it was her eyes, as brilliant as jewels against the darkness of her lashes, that caught and held his gaze.
He heard his aunt whisper to her husband, “What a lovely child.”
And then he felt the tears gather in his throat as she added simply, “Oh! She truly loves him, Gerard. You can see it in her eyes.”
THE END