Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ANOTHER REALM OF JOY
“ H as Mr Darcy declared himself?”
Looking directly into my mother’s eyes, I felt a strong urge to tell her everything—to confess I had hidden Mr Wickham’s fleeing wife in our attic, written to Mr Darcy to beg for help, and upon receiving it, had fallen straight into his open arms. Lest I succumb to the impulse, I quickly stood and kissed her on the cheek.
“Let us see Jane safely settled before we spin any webs for Mr Darcy, shall we? We have sufficient cause for joy. Let us not beg Providence for more than our share.”
“Do not be coy, child. I am your mother! If the gentleman has declared himself, I should be told!”
“If he has, I will tell you everything after Jane’s wedding.”
“Oh very well,” she said with a shrug as she turned back to her mirror. And then, as she affixed the lace cap on her head with pins, she fell to musing over the ball. Her pique forgot, and apparently still thinking of Mr Darcy’s gallantry, she suddenly said, “But did you see, Lizzy? He danced with Lydia! I shall always think well of him for coaxing her out.”
“Mr Darcy danced with all of us, Mama.”
“As a compliment to you.” She abruptly stopped fussing with her curls, and this time, raised her eyes balefully to mine in the mirror. “You do not suppose he is trifling with?—”
“Consider that a man with less than honourable intentions might lavish a lady with public attention and ply her mother with gifts. He may even be seen to be on terms with her father. However, such a skilful seducer would never introduce that lady and all her family to his young sister. You may lay down that sword at last, Mama. He is not cut from the same cloth as Mr Wickham.”
“Ah Lizzy,” she said, turning around to look at me with her face wiped clean of all misgiving. “How I shall miss you when you are married. Might you drive me to Meryton today?”
Several days passed in a swirl of parties and preparations, and nearly a week after the ball, Miss Darcy and I went out driving once again. We increasingly enjoyed one another’s company, and we were both smiling as I rounded the drive in front of Netherfield Park.
“Is that your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam?” I asked.
It was indeed her cousin standing at the top of the steps. We greeted one another with a gratifying degree of amiability, and while we chatted, Mr Darcy came out of the house with two gentlemen, one also dressed in an officer’s uniform. I was then introduced to Colonel Rutherford and Sir Thomas Whitley, and as we made small talk over my petite caleche, as Sir Thomas elegantly referred to the Zephyr, none other than Miss Caroline Bingley joined us, wreathed in smiles even as she greeted me!
“This is a fine day for a drive in the country, is it not Miss Eliza? Colonel Rutherford has decided I am in need of fresh air. Where shall we go?”
“The Lindbury Wood, of course,” I said without hesitation. “It is a charming forest in springtime and leads to the bridge. From there, the lane loops around and back to the village. Miss Darcy and I have been there twice now, and it was lovely on both occasions.”
Throughout this exchange, I had stolen glances at Mr Darcy who stood to one side with a look upon his face that could only be described as richly self-satisfied. Our party soon began to break apart, and he stepped up to the curricle to help his sister down. Miss Darcy, perhaps sensing she was in the way, quickly excused herself, leaving her brother and me regarding one another in wry amusement.
“I see I have not overestimated your powers,” I said.
“Perhaps not. However, you might consider what this favour to you has cost me .”
“Oh? Have you had to buy your friends, then?”
“Shamefully so.”
“What—with money?” I gasped, for I had only been joking.
“Money! We are not quite vulgar, my dear. But there has been a referral for membership at Brooks’s, a summer box at Vauxhall, and invitations to hunt in Matlock’s park when the season opens.”
I refrained from openly laughing, and instead, I offered him a look of specious sympathy.
“How lowering. You must have felt so tarnished to have had to bribe your friends. ”
“If you must know, I did. However, I grant you that Miss Bingley has been surprisingly willing to shift her interest to one or the other of them. Even my poor cousin has come under her scrutiny, for she has the fortune he needs, and he has the connexions she craves. Now, might we proceed to love one another without constraint, or must I cure someone else’s objections? Mr Collins, perhaps, might be aggrieved.”
“Oh!” I cried in an altogether different tone of voice. “I forgot to tell you! Charlotte has given birth to a little girl! She was to be christened Catherine Elizabeth.”
“Surely, you jest. You and my aunt are to be honoured in the same breath? That is rich.”
“Rich indeed. I wrote Charlotte just this morning by express, suggesting a greater compliment to Lady Catherine would be to name her after her daughter, Anne. That was terribly overbearing of me, I know, but my friend is not dull-witted. She might see the wisdom in that and receive no argument from Mr Collins for that change.”
Mr Darcy did not instantly reply and instead, only gazed up at me. At last he said, “Do you know? We are conversing as though we have known one another for many years as the very best of friends. I have looked forward with great anticipation to being your husband, and have just seen a glimpse of how comfortable we will be together.”
I reached for him almost blindly, and as he grasped my hand, I said, “I had no notion what happiness was until now. God bless you, Mr Darcy. You have lifted me into another realm of joy.”
“Shall you always call me Mister Darcy?”
His question took me aback for an instant, but then the answer came .
“ Mr Darcy is the name of the man upon whom I have relied in times of duress, the repository of my tenderest confidences, the name of my heart’s yearning. Mr Darcy has never failed me, even when what I most needed was a proper scold. So you may have to pardon me for failing to immediately relinquish that name in favour of Fitzwilliam. ”
“An ungainly mouthful of letters, I admit. Should I call you Mrs Darcy in return?”
“Please do not. I would feel like a stranger to you. You must call me by all the pet names you have already used when we are speaking privately, and Elizabeth when we are in company.”
He kissed my hand in parting. “Farewell then, my little breeze.”
“Good day, Mr Darcy,” I replied with dignity, the effect of which was ruined by his casual laugh.
The next morning, Jane and Mr Bingley married in the company of all their friends and family. My mother produced an embarrassingly overdone wedding breakfast, and after our tearful embraces, my eldest sister—now Mrs Bingley—drove away with her perennially cheerful bridegroom to visit his family in Scarborough.
Miss Bingley kept Netherfield Park open for her brother’s wedding guests for three additional days, and after securing an invitation to a ball to be given by the Countess of Matlock in under a month, she happily made plans to leave Hertfordshire. This, one of her highest ambitions, must certainly have been fulfilled through Mr Darcy’s generosity and his desire to shield me from the jealousy of my rival.
The day of her company’s planned departure, Mr Darcy arrived at Longbourn. Miss Darcy accompanied him, and having attained a little ease in our company, she even sat down at the pianoforte to play a minuet at Kitty’s request. During this distraction, Mr Darcy said a few words to my father, and they left the room together.
Needless to say, the result of their meeting was hardly a surprise, yet my family seemed wholly stunned to learn that they would have to go through the entire exercise of producing a wedding a second time in the space of a month.
My father was perhaps the most shocked, for he had summoned me to his book-room directly after our company left.
“I am on the verge of announcing to your mother that you are to marry to great advantage, but I am in need of some explanation, child. You are clearly inclined to be amenable to a man you very lately hated.”
“I never truly hated him, Papa, and perhaps you may recall that those were my feelings many months ago. Mr Darcy has since made himself less of an irritant.”
“Apparently so,” he grumbled. “He made a point of assuring me he has no plans to curtail your curricle driving.”
I could only laugh at this, and in fact, I found I could not stop laughing. Tears rolled down my face—from relief, from joy, from the absurdity of fate and the bewildering circumstances which brought two such resistant people step-by-step towards the altar.
“Forgive me,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Dear me. If he heard me, Mr Darcy would accuse me of laughing like a wild dog.”
My father sat up in alarm as this storm of hilarity swept over me. “Perhaps you should lie down,” he said. “I can wait a half an hour to speak to your mother. ”
“No need, Papa,” I said. “I shall compose myself this instant. Besides, I have waited long enough for this day. Might I kiss your cheek? I am overflowing with happiness.”
He offered his cheek. “I have little to give you save for my blessings, Lizzy. But you have them. I wish you joy.”