Chapter 10 #2
As Darcy went through the motions of dressing, he realised that a man was supposed to feel happiness, or anxiety, or enthusiasm on his wedding day.
All I am feeling is how I ought to feel something.
He could not even feel incredulous or disappointed that he was in such a peculiar situation.
Instead, he was rather blank until he saw his pale, breathless sister in the hall tying the ribbon of her bonnet.
“You look lovely, my dear.” It was truly the best Georgiana had looked in weeks. “Fitzwilliam has hired a carriage, but are you certain you wish to go to the church? I hate to see you in pain. We shall be there and back in an hour.”
“I know that it will tire me for the day, I know the rattling carriage will pain me, but it is a price I am willing to pay. I have not coughed much this morning. I will see you married to my friend.”
“I am not certain it is wise.” He had the sickening thought that it would be the last time his sister would leave Netherfield Lodge.
“Certainly it is, Darcy,” his cousin said as he descended the stairs. “Every man about to be wed needs someone in the church to hold salts and be agitated and cry on his behalf.” Fitzwilliam gave Georgiana a wink.
“You might serve that role and allow my sister to rest in her bed.”
“No, in order to deserve supernumerary drinks to the health and happiness of Mr and Mrs Darcy, I cannot be so agitated by your happiness that I cry in church.”
Darcy acquiesced, and after bundling his sister into the carriage, at ten they were at the church.
Miss Lucas attended the bride, Mr Collins gave her away, and Mrs Bennet cried.
Darcy was the only one who knew that the unshed tears in Miss Bennet’s eyes as she approached the altar were at the sight of Georgiana’s presence and not for him.
Darcy felt the first inklings of guilt before the minister finished outlining the causes ordained for matrimony.
None of them were for the good of an ailing lonely sister nor for a dying woman to have independence.
He ignored as best he could the injunctions that he love his wife, that he cherish her, that he worship her with his body, that they be fruitful in procreation of children, that he love her as he loved his own body.
He was not even endowing her with all of his worldly goods.
What part of these vows can I uphold?
It was soon over, and he signed the register and left with a wife on his arm.
Miss Bennet—Mrs Darcy—introduced his sister and cousin to her family, parted from her mother and Lydia with warm embraces, and then his new family climbed into a hired carriage to return to the lodge he had hated as soon as he first entered it.
To add to my wrathful heart and evil wishes, I can now add lying before God to my sins.
These dark thoughts might have lingered had he not noticed Mrs Darcy across the carriage, where she allowed a weary Georgiana to rest her head on her shoulder and doze.
Her eyes were extraordinary, fine and dark.
It was not their colour or shape that caught his breath, but their arresting laughter and intelligence.
In this moment, while he was worried about the honesty of the vows he had just taken, Mrs Darcy was tending to his sister and looked cheerful.
When she saw him looking at her, she whispered, “You need not feel that you have done wrong. We made our own vows when we came to our agreement, and those are the ones you and I need to uphold.”
He looked out the window, unnerved that this woman understood him.
His sister was coughing and in pain while they had breakfast and drank to their health and happiness.
Darcy carried Georgiana up the stairs, and Mrs Darcy followed.
He walked through the guest room that preceded his sister’s chamber and placed his sister on her bed.
He was at the door when his sister cried out in surprise.
“I did not think about the rooms until now. Fitzwilliam, you ought to have reminded me.”
“I do not understand.” He exchanged a look with Mrs Darcy, who shrugged in confusion.
“Your chamber and the other guest room are at the back of the house, and my room and the chamber connected to it are larger and in the front. I ought to move into your room, and you and Lizzy occupy these apartments together.”
His wife’s cry of alarm quickly changed into a nervous laugh. “Oh no, my dear. That—that is not necessary. I would prefer to have this room right next to yours. It will make checking on you in the night easier, and late-night conversations, too!”
Darcy pitied his sister in that moment; she was so abjectly confused that she was struck silent. “Georgiana, no one wishes to distress you and move you. Miss B—Mrs Darcy and I agreed that for the present she would prefer a chamber near yours, and I am only across the hall should she need me.”
The expression on his new wife’s face told him that she would rather her heart stop beating this instant than knock on his door during the night. The silence, red faces, and awkwardness stayed until Darcy backed out of his sister’s and then his new wife’s chambers.
His sister was abed, his new wife was reading to her and intended to remain above stairs, and he and his cousin played cards late into the night. It had to be the strangest wedding day ever imagined.
There were many things wanting so as to make the prospect of Longbourn’s ball satisfactory to Elizabeth.
She would have to dance, but she dared not to strain her heart.
Georgiana was too weak to attend, and Elizabeth hated to leave her alone, but her new sister insisted that everyone should go and enjoy the evening.
She would have to pretend to be a happy bride, which was difficult but not impossible, and pretend to be enamoured of her husband, which was impossible.
And Mr Darcy does not wish to go.
He was so vocal in his distaste that, given the confines of the house, she could hear all of his complaints to his cousin the entire time she readied herself for the ball one floor above him.
However privately Mr Darcy might have disliked leaving his sister and engaging in an evening out, he did what politeness required and escorted her to her childhood home with grave propriety.
This would be the first time that some of the principal families had been in company with Mr Darcy since he first came to the neighbourhood.
The prospect of a ball was extremely agreeable to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he asked her to introduce him to the partners whom she thought most likely to withstand his flirtatious banter.
Mr Darcy looked indignant, but she answered her new cousin in the same style.
“Lizzy! Show us your ring!” Lydia pushed aside those guests waiting to congratulate the happy couple. “Another sister married! I am the last, but it shall not take me so long as you.”
Lydia’s expression as she looked at the company in the room declared that she meant to have a delightful evening.
The sloping bodice of her gown also declared that she would welcome the attentions of any gentleman.
She was a full-grown young woman, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was holding back a laugh whilst he did not know where to look.
Mr Darcy’s jaw actually hung open, and he only closed it when Elizabeth linked an arm through his and gave it a sharp tug.
“How do you like my gown? How do you like my trimming? Mamma got me new lace.”
“There is rather less of your gown than when I last saw it.”
“I had to alter it—myself—rather than have a new one. My future husband must have a few thousand a year so I can have a new ballgown whenever I need one. I suppose you will open the ball?”
“Me? No, Mary will.”
“You are the new bride, so it ought to be you.” Lydia shrugged. “I do not have a partner yet.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately asked Lydia for the first, and then asked Elizabeth for the second.
She had felt well in the days leading up to her marriage; her heart ought to be strong enough for four sets, and she agreed.
Mr Darcy did not speak until Lydia had skipped away to welcome Maria Lucas.
“Many ladies at a ball wear their clothes scant upon their bodies, but Miss Lydia Bennet . . .”
“Was my sister’s gown too full upon the bosom for your fancy?” There was so little fabric about the breasts and shoulders that when Lydia shrugged, Elizabeth feared the entire gown would fall to the floor.
Mr Darcy only exhaled, but as she returned Charlotte Lucas’s greeting, she heard him mutter to his cousin, “She literally looked like a nursing mother.”
“Some girls are not content with the hint at what nature bestows and feel the need to . . . announce it.” The colonel was still laughing, and Elizabeth felt shame and vexation.
She and her husband found themselves in conference with Mr and Mrs Collins, and Sir William and Lady Lucas.
Mary was well satisfied with the attention she received as hostess, and it was some time before the little party was allowed to speak of anything other than admiring her skill at doing the honours of her husband’s home.
Sir William addressed Mr Darcy as soon as Mary’s vanity had been properly flattered.
“We have not seen you at the monthly balls at Meryton. Perhaps now that you are married and mixing with society, you will dance more often.”
“No, sir, certainly not.”
Sir William bore this with patience, but the others were taken aback. Elizabeth knew she turned pink. “What he means is that he finds private balls are much pleasanter than public ones.”
Mr Darcy bowed, and Elizabeth relaxed. Colonel Fitzwilliam redirected them to talk of the wedding yesterday, and how well the bride looked, and the Lucases were as eager to throw out their compliments as the Collinses were eager to remain silent.
“It has been a long time since Longbourn hosted a large party. It was gracious of you, Mrs Collins, to give this ball to do your sister honour,” said Lady Lucas.