Chapter 9 #2
“My brother is an excellent dancer, although he does not care for the exercise unless he is intimately acquainted with his partner.” Georgiana gave him a knowing smile. “He would likely prefer to dance with you over any other lady.”
He did not know whether to be gallant and agree, or be honest and refute this. He was saved from any reply because Miss Bennet quickly said, “No, I will not dance, but I will introduce Mr Darcy to any young lady in the room.”
He only half listened to the ladies talk.
Miss Bennet and Georgiana had spent hours in the garden this April and May, but his sister’s skin was pale compared to her friend’s.
Miss Bennet appeared that she would be tan before she died, but Georgiana had a striking pallor he had not noticed until compared to Miss Bennet.
“Fitzwilliam? Lizzy asked about the banns, did you not hear?”
“What? No, I did not hear.” The banns? Good God, the whole parish would know my name and my business. “I will get a common licence.” There was no bishop or archdeacon in Hertfordshire, so he would have to risk going to town.
The same thought must have occurred to Miss Bennet. “You would see the Bishop of London? And at what expense? The cost of travel, the ten shillings for the tax stamp, not to mention the cost of the licence itself!”
His eyes hurt from not rolling them. “You forget also the bond to support my allegation that there are no impediments to our marriage, so I hope you are, indeed, free to marry.” His sister was not watching him, so he did not smile. “As for the cost, I shall manage as best I can.”
“Mr Darcy, waiting three Sundays—”
“Brings us to June. Rather close to summer, is it not?” He gave her a significant look, and he saw she understood him. She would be dead at the end of the summer; she did not have three weeks to wait.
“Very well, but do not think you will avoid the ball. It is set for Wednesday the twentieth. We could marry the day before it.”
“I am pleased you will marry sooner, but is it wise to be in London?” Georgiana glanced between them, biting her lip. “You are thought to be in Madeira, and although it is unlikely given that town will be so thin . . . depending on where you go, you might be recognised.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think Mr Darcy can move about within miles of St Paul’s and none shall know him!”
Darcy thought of the booksellers in Paternoster Row on the north side of the churchyard who knew him by sight. “I shall not go anywhere I am likely to be noticed. It will be a quick errand, and I may as well see Colonel Fitzwilliam while I am near to him.”
“Would you bring him back with you? I would like to see him, and he could stand up with you at your wedding.”
“I will leave that for him to decide.” Miss Bennet asked the question, and Georgiana explained that her cousin and other guardian knew the truth and facilitated their ruse of being in Madeira.
“Fitzwilliam, you will not be gone long, I hope. The prospect of your detention in town fills me with anxiety.”
Miss Bennet moved to sit nearer to Georgiana before Darcy could blink. “My dear, you are not about to die while your brother goes to town for a few days! He shall be there and back before you can miss him.”
She then went to the hall and opened the front door.
Darcy had heard the house-bell, but it would not occur to either him or his sister to answer their own door.
Mr Lynn entered to assume Mr Jones’s attendance on the invalid.
Georgiana entreated Miss Bennet to stay, but she had letters to write and promised to return tomorrow.
“When Mr Lynn is finished, you and your brother will have a great deal of unreserved discourse with one another, I daresay, upon the subject of our marriage, as well as upon many other family matters. Abuse everybody but me!” She smiled, curtsied, and was gone.
“She is a kind and gentle friend. She has a willingness to love people.” Georgiana prattled happily while Mr Lynn asked her the same questions that Mr Jones had asked. “How shall I bear so much happiness? My two favourite people united!”
“Your sister appears in better health than Mr Jones led me to believe. He supposed her to be in the last stage of a consumption, but other than appearing to have lost weight, I have no concerns. Her spirits are excellent. Perhaps the wasting has abated for the present. Times of remission are common with the consumptive. Plenty of fresh air, indoors and out, exercise, but not to the point of fatigue, I hope, ma’am? ”
“I am able most days to get up and dress; the windows are never shut up, and I am never confined to one room. I often tend the garden for an hour and even walk outside if someone supports me. Miss Bennet sees to my comfort and happiness.”
“I am glad to hear it. Let us be certain that your mind is kept engaged and your spirits are kept high, as well.”
His sister was more energetic, but Darcy still worried. “Miss Darcy coughs more at night, a hacking cough—”
“A cough, even with expectoration streaked with blood, means the first stage of consumption has commenced, which was never in doubt in your sister’s case, sir. I do not think that more laudanum is necessary if Miss Darcy’s pain is not worse and if she can still sleep.”
His sister agreed her pain had not worsened, and she managed to sleep well enough.
Mr Lynn made more pleasantries, opining that perhaps the wasting disease had slowed since her spirits were so high, and took his leave.
Darcy tried to ask if she was truly feeling better when his sister returned to the subject of his marriage.
“You are so in love with Lizzy that you will get a common licence! You could be married by the beginning of next week. I hope our cousin will return with you and be your witness. And then Lizzy will be here always! When did you first know that you loved her?”
“That is enough talk of Miss Bennet.”
Her sparkling eyes faded, and Darcy silently cursed himself. “I daresay I admired the liveliness of her mind early enough, but it was her love for you that raised her in my esteem. Excuse me, but I must make ready to leave for town.”
He would be laughed out of London once Fitzwilliam learnt what he planned to do.
Longbourn, May 13
My dear aunt,
This news will surprise you, and although it is a great secret, and only known to half the neighbourhood, I must tell you immediately.
I am to be married next week to a gentleman named Fitzwilliam Darcy.
He has lived here half a year, and I made his acquaintance this spring.
He is, I admit, arrogant for a man in his situation; he has little fortune and not a connexion worth mentioning.
His reputation here is not as it ought to be, but Mr Darcy does bear a good character.
Since I am handsome, accomplished, amiable, and everything but rich, we shall suit well enough.
I laugh and tease, but trust me when I say that it will be a comfortable situation.
Besides, marriage is a great improver, and since Mr Darcy is a clever man, I suspect he is not too stupid to see the merits in lessening his pride and laughing at himself more.
I judge him accurately and need never change my opinion of him, and, of course, I am perfect, and my marriage could not improve me at all.
You would now entreat me to be serious. We shall live near to Longbourn in the most private manner, with only three servants, but I shall want for nothing I have true need of.
His sister Georgiana will live with us; she is nearly sixteen and is a shy, modest girl who is, sadly, very poorly.
Mr Darcy rents a former gatehouse in the country for the sake of her lungs.
I wish to care for her and love her the same as I would Jane.
What a prodigious innate love of virtue I must have, to marry under such circumstances, you might say.
A man with only a few hundred a year, an ailing sister, and few servants.
You can at least expect that I am marrying a tall and handsome man of twenty-eight.
I promise he is not dull and heavy and twice my age.
When I next write, it will be with my married name. I shall be impatient to hear from you again, to know your thoughts on Mr Darcy, and when you are to return to England.
With best love, &c., I am affectionately yours,
E. Bennet
After sealing this letter, she was beginning a similar one to Jane when Charlotte Lucas entered.
“Charlotte!” She rose to embrace her friend. “Your mother did not expect you for another fortnight. I am so pleased to see you. Longbourn has been—I have missed you dreadfully.”
“My brother’s wife recovered from the influenza sooner than expected, and there was no reason to stay. My father brought me home only this morning”—she gave Elizabeth a sly look—“and thank goodness he did because I would have missed your wedding had I been any later.”
“Yes,” she quietly answered. “I would have written to you next. It might seem a sudden arrangement . . .”
“Not at all for someone in your situation. Besides, you have not had the same self-possession since your father died, and having your own home could improve that.” Elizabeth supposed this was true, but before she could agree, Charlotte said, “There is nothing to be said against accepting Mr Darcy from the desire for an establishment of your own.”
This was what her closest friend believed: that she would sacrifice every better feeling to the advantage of escaping from Longbourn.
Elizabeth longed to say that it was because it would only be for a few months, that she wanted independence before she died, that caring for Georgiana would give her purpose for her final days. “Undeniably.”
“I have only seen Mr Darcy at church and once at Lucas Lodge. He seemed a severe, silent young man, and no one knows anything of his sister. You must tell me about them.”