The Zephyr

Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

CERBERUS AND ORTHRUS

J ust as I anticipated she would, my mother had sent Mrs Gardiner on a mission of excess in the shops, and I had even briefly gone to London for the purpose of having my wedding dress sewn expressly for me by Miss Darcy’s own modiste. On this occasion, Georgiana, with whom I was now on far more familiar terms, had taken me all around the city for my various errands, and I had stayed with her at Mr Darcy’s tastefully opulent London address.

There, I met her companion, Mrs Annesley. I also met the butler, the housekeeper, footmen, maids, and even a candidate who had been selected to serve as my personal maid, and I strove mightily not to appear too amazed by a situation so much more lavish than I expected. Georgiana, in turn, accompanied me to Cheapside and took tea with the Gardiners. She met Lydia on that occasion, and thus, we began to slowly interweave the disparate threads of our families into whole cloth .

This brief immersion into Mr Darcy’s world had opened my eyes to the distinctions that separated us.

In the privacy of my moments alone upon waking or at night as I drifted into sleep, I considered how great had been his determination to engage my interest. He had been willing to step fully into my provincial life. He had let go of his precious dignity, learnt to tease me, and resigned himself to associating with the likes of Sir William, Aunt Philips, and every other inelegant member of my society. He had broadened his opinions and suspended his judgments in order to experience and include what was familiar and important to me. He had done all that for me!

And now it was my turn to step fully into his more perfected world, and I made a vow upon the waning moon that I would meet the challenge without any whimpering complaints that I found it all too overwhelming. Mr Darcy had shown his resilience, and he deserved my courage. He did not need me to cry on his coat sleeve that I feared I would select the wrong aperitif for a dinner party.

I contemplated how I had learnt to drive against great odds and in spite of the total absence of belief I could do so on the part of my friends, my family, and even myself. If I could hold the reins and direct my ponies through a narrow passage at a brisk trot, I could learn to hold the reins of a gentleman’s home, and moreover, I could propel us towards an easier style of living than one centred around senseless grandeur.

My betrothed had not been in town during this visit. He had gone to Pemberley for a short spell, having explained in a reasonable way that he felt duty-bound to warn his people of my impending arrival. However, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence throughout my visit to London was fairly constant. By the warmth of his greetings and ease of manner, I sensed I had withstood the test of time. This is not to say he had disapproved of me at the outset, so much as he was not a man prone to instant judgment. In consequence, his acceptance had been more meaningful to me, and in a gradual, natural way, this led me to feel fully incorporated—even welcomed—into Mr Darcy’s intimate circle.

As to his larger family, I sensed, rather than being told, I would again have to withstand the test of time in order to fulfil their elevated notions of acceptability. Perhaps a great deal of time would be required in my case since I was a penniless unknown. I easily shrugged off this probability, as I did not aspire to position as did Miss Bingley. She was certainly more artful, but the contortions required of someone wishing to be thrust upward to the top tier of society struck me as both sad and sordid because I could not rid myself of the lasting imprint of Mr Collins’s mortifying self-abasement for Lady Catherine’s gratification.

No, Mr Darcy, Georgiana, and Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed sufficient support to me that I could proceed with patience—well, perhaps not patience, for truthfully, this glimpse into my future had left me in a state of gleeful anticipation of life with a man who could calmly claim he lived to enlighten me. How I would relish teaching him up from down!

Perhaps the most notable of all the occasions leading up to my wedding was my engagement ball. Jane had taken on the challenge willingly and without the advice of Miss Bingley, who had sent me a curt little note of congratulations and an apology. She had developed a cough, and upon the advice of her doctor, she could not attend any of the festivities. Dear Louisa would stay home to care for her, and Mr Hurst, who apparently ranked below the station of a chair in her opinion, did not even warrant a mention. Jane had confided over tea that her sister was not truly ill, to which I bit my tongue lest I remark that on the contrary, she was sick with jealousy!

The ballroom was no less lovely than it had been on the most recent occasion, and with the satin of my new gown shining in candlelight, I met my friends and well-wishers with infectious joy. Not for the first time did I feel the privilege of my elevation, perhaps because Mr Darcy, lately returned to Hertfordshire, looked upon me like the rare prize he had once teased he would cart home to Pemberley to be placed upon a pedestal of jade.

This feast of happiness was all well and good, however, no occasion is truly noteworthy to me unless there is some cause to laugh. To my delight, my childhood friend John Lucas had given me endless amusement. He had somehow slipped directly in front of Colonel Fitzwilliam and claimed the first dance with Georgiana—a lady too shy to forthrightly state her cousin had intended to lead her out.

“What is that idiot doing?” Mr Darcy had growled into my ear.

“He believes he is one of the principal members of the neighbourhood. His father was knighted, you might recall.”

His reply was suitably acerbic to make me long to chuckle at his grumbling. “At Saint James’s? Oh, well, in that case…”

Unfortunately for poor John, Colonel Fitzwilliam was no less annoyed than Mr Darcy, and when the sprig of Lucas Lodge again led Miss Darcy out for the supper set and then placed her squarely between himself and his mother at the table, thus stealing her from the party to which she rightly belonged, they had a few words to say between them.

“Who is that young dog?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked .

Mr Darcy’s reply dripped with irony. “Mr John Lucas, Sir William’s son and heir apparent of Lucas Lodge.”

“My childhood friend,” I interjected sweetly and with a blinding smile, for they were both being absurdly protective. Thinking to fan the flames, I added, “He is besotted with Georgiana.”

This caused the colonel’s head to snap around so he could properly interrogate me. “How so?”

“We met while out driving some weeks ago. He rode alongside us—on her side of the curricle, I might add—spouting a great deal of babbling nonsense and seated upon his horse like the rooster of Meryton. I have not been so diverted in a long while.”

“I am going to get her,” Mr Darcy said grimly.

“No, you are not.”

I spoke with such pleasant assurance he stopped mid-step to hear the rest of what I had to say. “To abruptly pull her away in such a public manner would mortify her. Perhaps you have forgotten how my father pulled Mary away from the pianoforte at Mr Bingley’s first ball here? Your sister is not simple, you know. She is entirely capable of depressing his pretensions.”

I somehow managed to refrain from adding if she wishes to, for in my opinion, Georgiana did not seem as disgusted by his adolescent advances as her guardians thought she should. When the ‘halfwit dog’ in question at last led Georgiana back to her brother and cousin and ceremoniously handed her back to them with a jaunty bow, I thought the looks of cold rage he received would send me into whoops of laughter. To cap it all with a crown of provocation, John, who was perfectly oblivious, then asked me to dance the next set with him, and I did so with undisguised delight .

“Well, I must say,” he said grandly, “you look well tonight, Lizzy. Done well for yourself, eh? I did not believe you could land such a whale myself, but here you are. Proved us all wrong.”

I withstood this vulgarity with complacent silence for I was too happy to be pulled down by the opinions of those who did not know how much more I loved the man than I did his money.

Instead, I asked, “And just what are your plans for my new sister, John?” He could not keep his eyes from finding Georgiana at every turn of the dance. “Are you also on an expedition of whaling? She is worth her weight in ambergris, you know.”

“Is she? I heard she was an heiress.”

“Have a care. Cerberus and Orthrus over there guard her well.”

“Who?”

“My word, did you learn nothing at school? Perhaps you should put your nose in a book once in a while! Cerberus and Orthrus were the hounds that guarded the gates of hell, and by the dark looks you are earning from the lady’s guardians, you might consider treading lightly.”

“But why should I not have a try? I like her very much, Lizzy.”

Having done what I could to warn him off, I had to satisfy myself with the notion that Georgiana would soon leave Hertfordshire, and the hounds could then relax. Thus, when Mr Darcy claimed my hand for the last dance, I turned the entirety of my attention to his face and failed to restrain the smile of pleasure that even at that late hour could not be suppressed.

After joy upon joy, Mr Darcy and I married quietly .

A curious serenity, a dignity of sorts, had fallen over us like a blanket as we said our vows. This was not as dull as it may sound, for in truth, the fulfilment of our destiny left us entirely satiated. My mother’s frets over the wedding breakfast, the small inconveniences so common on a wedding day—the tears, the embraces, the realisation that this was a permanent parting from my childhood—passed effortlessly in the silvery flow of time on its endless stream.

At last, Mr Darcy came to stand beside me, breaking into my reflections, and instinctively, I sensed he was anxious to go.

“Have you come to collect me?” I whispered while smiling absently at Sir William’s anecdote about the punch served at his own wedding.

“Prepare to be strapped on the boot, my little baggage. Let us be away before too long, shall we? I should not like to arrive in Northampton at midnight.”

“I have been wishing you would declare an end to breakfast this last hour. By all means, take me away.”

As a testament to how comfortable I had grown in Mr Darcy’s company, I soon slipped off my shoes, curled into a ball with my feet snuggly tucked under my shawl, and as his well-sprung carriage rocked to the precise tempo of his matched team of four, I slipped into a delicious sleep cradled in my husband’s arms with my ear pressed against the solid support of his chest.