Chapter 12 Supreme Temptation
Supreme Temptation
Two more days. Elizabeth will be my wife in two more days.
Darcy stared at the calendar atop his desk, a smile spreading simply by seeing the ink circle marking November the twenty-eighth.
Each morning for nearly two months he had crossed off the previous date yet had often felt as if the wedding day grew no closer.
Now, finally, the day his heart and soul would be complete was almost here.
Hopefully, these final forty-eight hours will not crawl so slowly it feels as if the clock is turning backwards.
Standing, Darcy stretched and yawned. As he did every morning immediately upon rising from his bed, the drapes had been drawn open, so he could survey the weather.
Not a cloud was visible in the whole expanse of the vibrant-azure sky.
If one did not know it was late November, the brilliant sunlight would have deceived.
Evidence of winter was there on closer inspection, of course, as was the aftermath of the heavy rains in the dozens of muddy puddles and temporary ponds.
The horrendous storm which caused him troubles had left a wake of disasters over a substantial portion of Hertfordshire, northern London, and the southern tip of Buckinghamshire.
The newspapers yesterday and that morning reported flooding, roads washed out, lightning strikes with resulting fires, injuries, and, tragically, deaths.
He should never have let his selfishness overrule common sense.
He had risked his own safety—a foolishness Elizabeth had reminded him of several times yesterday—but far worse was the peril he had forced upon his servants.
It was sobering, and he would not forget the lesson learned.
However, Darcy was not the type of man to flagellate himself.
These were the last two days of their betrothal season, and while he would gladly welcome the miracle of the hours zipping by, since that was improbable, he planned to make the best of it.
What that would entail, he had no idea. Then he remembered that today, or certainly by tomorrow, wedding guests would descend upon Longbourn and Netherfield. Boredom was unlikely.
Sure enough, before noon both households were welcoming visitors: the Gardiners arrived at Longbourn, and the Matlocks, with Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam, descended upon Netherfield.
The women at Longbourn were consumed with creating the flower bouquets, the endeavor likely to take the entire day, so Darcy had been warned.
Resigned to this reality, the Longbourn servant delivering a missive from Miss Elizabeth shortly after two o’clock was unexpected.
Grinning, he instructed Georgiana to hastily grab her coat and bonnet for a trip into Meryton.
Thrilled, she did so without question, Richard coming along as well, and a half hour later the four of them were strolling along the wooden walkways of the modest village with Elizabeth as a guide.
“A ribbon crisis? That is what you fabricated to get out of the house?”
“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Darcy?” Lizzy declared, brows high and eyes wide and innocent. She even patted her heart and added a gasp of shock. “Are you suggesting I misplaced an entire box of ribbons on purpose?”
“No! No, of course not. How silly of me! Forget I said a word.” Darcy pressed her hand firmly against his arm, sighing sorrowfully. “I only pray the draper has more in stock. We cannot proceed with the wedding without the full complement of ribbons.”
“Oh, I am sure he does! Besides, these missing things usually do turn up. In fact, I suspect someone at Longbourn has stumbled across them by now. Probably my aunt Gardiner. She is cannily akin to a bloodhound in locating misplaced objects.”
Laughing, they enjoyed the short respite as thoroughly as they could under the time constraints imposed by last-minute wedding preparations.
Georgiana was charmed by the village, although her enthusiasm was mainly in being with Elizabeth.
The short trip ended with an even briefer pause at Longbourn to introduce Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy to the Bennets. That meeting went predictably.
By the time Darcy, Richard, and Georgiana returned to Netherfield, the Hursts and Caroline Bingley had arrived.
“Terrific,” Darcy muttered grumpily upon espying the familiar coach in the drive. It was a sentiment of which neither Colonel Fitzwilliam nor Miss Darcy could disagree.
As per the agenda for the final days and evenings, the brides and grooms would honor tradition by not seeing each other after sundown on the eve of the wedding, meaning they would dine apart.
For tonight, however, Mr. Bingley had offered to host at Netherfield.
It was the sensible choice, presuming the likelihood of some of their families arriving that day.
As it turned out, everyone arrived that day.
It was, for all intents, a prewedding reception.
When the dust finally cleared, and the last visitor had departed with the rest retired to their guest quarters, the grooms and Richard Fitzwilliam met in Bingley’s private sitting room.
“Well, that went swimmingly, I’d say.” Richard handed a brandy to Darcy, who grunted, then took a large swallow.
“As swimmingly as in a river of piranhas.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad—maybe sharks, or stinging eels, but not piranha level.”
Bingley smiled at Richard’s humor but looked a bit dyspeptic and also gulped at his brandy. “We may as well accept it, Darcy. After all, we will be family in two days so these gatherings, while hopefully rare, will happen from time to time.”
Now it was Darcy’s turn to look ill.
“Does Mr. Hurst ever smile?” Richard blurted in a tone of sincere curiosity.
“Sometimes, I think.” Bingley frowned, then shrugged. “Can’t recall to be honest.”
“Huh. Well, here is to family.” Richard lifted his glass. “Got to love them, for better or worse, sickness and in health, richer or poorer… Wait, that is for spouses. What are the rules for family again?”
“That is the real tragedy. One has no choice in the matter and is stuck with them,” Darcy grumbled.
“Yes, well, cheer up, Cousin. You have me! That is a stupendous blessing from the Almighty. And soon you shall have Bingley here. We make up for a dozen Mr. Hursts or Mrs. Bennets.”
“I suppose I will have to give you that,” Darcy admitted grudgingly, and then he laughed.
Richard joined in, but Bingley was quiet, eyes faintly troubled and a frown creasing his brows.
“What is it, Charles?”
“Was Caroline…” Bingley paused. “That is, did she do or say anything I am unaware of?”
Richard shook his head, but it was Darcy who spoke.
“Surprisingly, no. In fact, I don’t think she said much at all.
She sat with Mrs. Hurst the whole night.
I know she never approached Elizabeth, at least when we were all together.
I was watching. I think the time away did her good, truly I do.
But really, what does it matter for the present?
We should put all this aside and focus on what is important.
The reason we are gathered here in the first place. ”
“Here! Here!” Richard raised his glass, but only halfway. Staring at Darcy with a comically confused expression, he asked, “And why was that again?”
Darcy shook his head, helpless but to laugh. Casting aside the serious, negative topics, the trio of friends chatted and drank for a while longer.
“I almost forgot,” Richard slurred sometime later.
“Georgie asked me what I thought about braving the dirt trails meandering prettily through the nearby meadows for an extended walk in the crisp air and sunshine. Or some such poetic blither. This would be for tomorrow, that is. Or is it now today? What time is it anyway?”
“Time for us to pour you into bed, Colonel. And pour ourselves, for that matter,” Bingley noted, a bit slurry as well. “As for the walk idea, it sounds like a feasibility. What say you, Mr. Weather Predictor? Will the pleasant weather last?”
“I am not as sensitive to the climates here as I am in Derbyshire, but I think it will. I am basing that on the Farmer’s Almanac, to be honest. At any rate, getting out into nature for more than a short jaunt would be wonderful. I hate being cooped up.”
“Says the man who will soon be married and staying cooped up for days on end.” Richard wiggled his brows and leered.
“Yes, but I will at least be exercising.”
Loud guffaws came after that suggestive jest, and from there the inebriated conversation went into bawdy realms best left unrepeated. It was probably a blessing that none of them remembered most of what was said from that point onward.
* * *
The following morning, one day before the long-awaited wedding, the three gentlemen luckily remembered the discussion of a walk.
Or rather, they remembered when Georgiana loudly and painfully screamed at them about it.
Several pots of coffee and solid food in their stomachs later, her voice wasn’t as shrill—strange how that happens—and the prospect of so much bright sunshine piercing into their aching skulls wasn’t quite as nausea inducing.
Despite lacking a high degree of eagerness initially, the recovering grooms were willing to do anything if it meant being with their ladies.
Ever adventurous, Colonel Fitzwilliam would not have been left behind barring someone tying him up with chains, and even that may have failed.
Lord Matlock was content to quietly pass the day with Mr. Bennet in the Netherfield library, and Lady Matlock pleaded needing rest for a minor headache.
Darcy noted her slight hesitation, suspecting the excuse was a polite way to allow the younger set to have their fun.
As far as they knew, no one asked Mr. Hurst, wherever he was. That left Louisa Hurst, who surprised everyone by chiming in enthusiastically, and Caroline Bingley, who then had little option but to come along.