Chapter Seven
The ceremony was short and not sweet. One person dared to voice an argument, but after a quelling look from the master of Pemberley, Mr. Collins retreated to the back of the chapel, leaving only the Bennet family to witness the charade of a wedding.
Kitty had managed to fix the tear and they had done their very best to smooth out wrinkles and remove stains from around the hem.
Elizabeth’s reticule was filled with banknotes and she wore sturdy half boots instead of dancing slippers.
But, her lack of wedding finery was the least of her worries.
For now, she had to quell the rolling of her stomach and say her vows, although everything in her rebelled.
Mr. Ashbury, a man of God she had known most of her life, stood before them at the front of Longbourn Chapel, the book of Common Prayer lying open in the palms of his hands. He looked at Mr. Darcy.
“Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.”
Mr. Ashbury turned his attention to Elizabeth.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
No! – her mind screamed, but the words, “I will” fell from her lips.
Too soon, she heard Mr. Darcy repeat his vows in a hard voice.
“I, Fitzwilliam Arthur George Darcy, take thee Elizabeth Rose Bennet to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth
She took quick notice of how he had stressed the word poorer.
It was now her turn, and she made sure to state and enunciate her full and proper name, wondering if anyone would notice besides her uncle.
I, Elizabeth Rose Isabella de Cortez Bennet, take thee Fitzwilliam Arthur George Darcy, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to…
” – she swallowed hard – “…obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth. ”
Mr. Darcy then took her hand in his and said, “With this ring, I thee wed: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Without care, he pushed a plain gold band onto her finger. They then attended a small table where the marriage certificate awaited their signatures.
She cast a longing glance toward the heavy oak doors at the back of the chapel, experiencing one last urge to flee toward freedom.
The soft rustle of silk from Jane’s gown reminded her forcibly of why she did this.
Filled with a fierce love for her adopted family, she set quill to page and for the last time wrote the name, Elizabeth Bennet.
As for Mr. Darcy, he scrawled his signature, handed the document to Mr. Bennet, and turned on his heel.
“I will wait in the carriage,” was all he said.
To think that she had met him not more than a dozen times and now she was bound to this taciturn man till death do they part.
It happened so fast; she didn’t realize until much later he had not fully repeated all of his vows.
He had omitted to say, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.
Aunt Frances and her cousins all hugged her, and Uncle Thomas then escorted her to the carriage. At the door to the conveyance, he took her shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes.
“Be brave, Elizabeth. Know that we love you.”
“We do not have all day,” Mr. Darcy snapped.
With no aid from her husband, not that she expected any, Elizabeth climbed into the carriage where she sat facing Mr. Darcy like a servant.
Better get used to this, Lizzy.
Mr. Darcy rapped on the ceiling and said, “Drive on, Wilkes.”
The carriage jolted to a start, throwing Elizabeth off the seat. Her husband, who had turned to scowl out the window, was not able to stop her forward motion and she hit her cheek on his knee.
“I had hoped you were finished throwing yourself at me, Madam.”
She scrambled back onto the seat and glared at him, before turning her face to the window and passing the time watching the scenery. They trundled through Meryton and within the half-hour were on London Road, heading toward town.
“I thought I was to Pemberley?”
“My plans have changed. We are going to Darcy House in London.”
The sun was sinking to its rest when they reached the outskirts of London and the streets were dark when they entered Belgrave Square.
Mr. Darcy exited the carriage and waited for her to disembark with the help of a footman.
Without a word, they mounted the stairs, and the door opened before they reached the top.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” his butler said in greeting. “Mrs. Whittaker has set up the family dining room for you to enjoy a light repast after you have refreshed yourself.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Darcy took her elbow and brought her forward. “Mrs. Darcy, this is my butler, Mr. Burke.”
The butler did not so much as raise an eyebrow over the insult of Mr. Darcy introducing a servant to his wife and not the other way around. Elizabeth notched it up to her husband’s profound arrogance and lack of regard for her as a gentleman’s daughter.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Burke.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Burke closed the door and the jangle of keys let Elizabeth know the housekeeper had joined them.
“This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Whittaker.”
Another log of insult was added to the woodpile.
“Welcome to Darcy House, Mrs. Darcy. Would you care to refresh yourself before you dine?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“The footmen should have already unloaded your trunks. Can a maid press a fresh dress while you wash up?”
It was apparent the housekeeper had noticed the dirty hem of her gown peeking out from beneath the cardinal redingote.
“No thank you, Mrs. Whittaker. My husband was firm in his desire that I wear only this particular dress on my wedding day.”
Mrs. Whittaker’s eyes rounded in tandem with her mouth and she felt Mr. Darcy stiffen by her side. These were his orders, not hers; he would learn to live with the consequences of his temper.
“I see,” the housekeeper said. “Very well, follow me.”
“I will see my wife to her chambers, Mrs. Whittaker. I am going that way myself and would like a private word with her.”
Without saying anything more, Darcy once again took hold of her elbow and steered her up the main staircase and down the hall.
All too soon she was being directed into a large bed chamber filled with heavy ornate furniture that crowded out anything good, or pleasant to look at.
She hoped the rest of the house did not contain such vulgar furnishings.
She’d go mad if it were. Her lone trunk sat in the middle of the room, a sad testament to how her life would be going forward.
Darcy turned on her.
“What did you think to accomplish, embarrassing me in front of my staff?”
“I am not the one who insisted I wear a ruined dress to my wedding. Those were your orders. Not mine!”
“Enough!” He paced away and then back. “This is untenable. You will have to visit a modiste tomorrow and have some things made up.”
“With fifty pounds, exactly what do you think I can purchase? You have a sister who is still growing. You know the cost of a lady’s wardrobe.”
“Your clothes are not fit for a scullery maid. It will not do for Mrs. Darcy to be seen in cotton dresses and made over bonnets.”
She bristled at his derogatory language. Cotton dresses, indeed!
“Mayhap you should have thought about that before you demanded I take nothing more than one trunk. As it was, you were going to send me on to Pemberley without so much of a thought as to warm winter clothing, boots, muffs, and heavy coats. This dress and redingote would not have kept me warm for long. Unless that was your plan. That I freeze to death before I arrived, and you would become the much-pitied widower.”
“I will admit I acted recklessly and will have to make amends. Before we dine, please attend my study.”
He gave her a curt bow and left her room via the connecting door, reminding her in a tangible manner that he slept only a few steps away and the door could never be locked from her side – a wife could not refuse her husband’s entry – it could only be locked from his.
She brought out the few belongings her trunk held, placing the brush and comb set aunt and uncle had given her by way of a wedding present on the small table in her dressing room, which housed at least five wardrobes, all empty.
Lizzy Izzy was lovingly situated on the small chair in the corner, while her mother’s jasmine perfume and the box which held the pearl necklace were tucked away in the top drawer.
Elizabeth had refused to wear either when she said her vows, as she did not love Mr. Darcy and he most assuredly did not love her.
Not even five minutes after Mr. Darcy had left, a servant knocked on the door.
When she entered the room, her eyes widened in surprise as she scanned the furnishings, making Elizabeth think the room had been decorated in a different manner than it was now.
She quickly recovered and said, “I’m to help you dress for dinner. ”
“Your name is…?”
“Betty Danvers, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Danvers. I must continue to wear this gown for the evening, but shall require your help before bed and also tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve no others to wear?”
Danvers looked around and spotted the solitary trunk and nothing more.