Chapter Eleven #3
She met his eyes. “I am looking forward to being married to you, Mr. Darcy.”
His smile was uncharacteristically broad. “I am anticipating that moment as well, Miss Russell.” He laid his free hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “Shall we?”
Just as they arrived in the front hall, a blur of white threw itself at Elizabeth. Darcy was forced to grab her before she tumbled to the floor.
“Georgie!” Elizabeth laughed, tossing her arms around her friend. “I believe you have missed me!”
“Good gracious, Georgiana Darcy,” a middle-aged woman fussed from the doorway. “You are not a child to greet people in such a way.”
“Yes, Aunt,” Georgiana said, her tone contrite, but her face all that was merry. She hugged Elizabeth tightly. “My apologies, Elizabeth, brother.” She released Elizabeth long enough to embrace Darcy.
“Of the two of us, Georgiana,” he said, amused, “I believe I could withstand that sort of welcome more easily than Elizabeth.”
“But it has been so long, brother!“ she protested, before turning back to Elizabeth.
“Oh, Lizzy!” Georgiana crowed. “You are truly to be my sister! It is too delightful to be expressed in words—and I know, for I have tried!” She clasped her hands together.
“I am to stay the night with all your sisters,” she announced, her joy readily apparent.
“You know, Georgie,” Elizabeth replied, her expression one Darcy identified as saucy—“we have not been able to practice our teasing in an age. When we are all together at Pemberley, we shall have to sharpen our wit on your brother. I mean to vex him a great deal.”
Georgiana laughed, and Darcy forced himself to frown. “I beg your pardon, Miss Russell, but you already vex me a great deal.“ He turned to Georgiana. “Et tu, Georgiana? You have been here less than two minutes, and already you are taking up arms against me, your favorite brother?”
“My least favorite brother,“ Georgiana teased, and pretended to consider the idea. “Oh, wait, my only brother.”
Darcy cast his eyes heavenward. “I believe you two have no need for additional practice. Now, I believe our aunt and uncle have requested an introduction.” He motioned to the Matlocks.
Georgiana’s hand flew to her mouth and she stepped back.
“Oh, Lizzy, forgive me. Uncle, Aunt.” She turned to her relations, both well-dressed and attractive.
Lord Matlock was built solidly, like his second son, and Lady Matlock was—Elizabeth searched for the word—stately.
“Please allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Russell of Weymouth House in Yorkshire. Miss Russell has been my very dear friend since I was all of six years old. Elizabeth, these are Lord and Lady Matlock, Richard’s parents and my uncle and aunt. ”
“Delighted, Miss Russell,” the earl said, as Elizabeth curtsied. “We have waited a long time to meet you in person.”
“Thank you, Lord Matlock,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oh, you must call me uncle, and my beautiful wife”—here Lady Matlock gave her husband an appreciative glance—“aunt, as Georgiana does.” His gaze was warm. “We shall be family in less than a day, my dear.”
“I thank you, uncle,” Elizabeth replied, and gave him a brilliant smile. She turned to Lady Matlock. “Aunt. I am Elizabeth, or Lizzy.”
“You are a dear girl,” the countess said approvingly, her eyes alight with interest. “I cannot tell you how pleased we are that Fitzwilliam is settling down at last.” She took Elizabeth’s arm and began to walk her towards the drawing room. “Now we just have to work on Richard. Is he within?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes to the promise of sunlight and a cold chamber. She heard servants in the hall—perhaps she could ring for someone to build the fire as she would sleep no more this morning. She rose to pull the bell and wrapped a dressing gown around her as she sat down at her vanity.
“Today,” she told the glass, “today you wed.”
Elizabeth had never thought much about marrying; even today, it was not the decorations or the finery or the wedding breakfast that set her heart racing, but thoughts of her intended.
Being alone, truly alone, with Fitzwilliam Darcy.
“To learn all the Darcy secrets,” she teased her reflection, then, more shyly, “I am all anticipation.”
It was only a half-hour later, with the sun filtering weakly through the windows, that her sisters began to appear.
Jane and Georgiana were first, followed by a sleepy Mary, who rubbed her eyes as she entered.
They all had tea together in her room before they decided to send the maid away and prepare Elizabeth’s hair themselves.
“I am trusting you both,” Elizabeth warned, “not to create a pyramid or a feathered nightmare.” She paused. “With all respect to Mrs. Bingley, of course.”
Jane and Georgiana took great delight in deciding upon a style and weaving Elizabeth’s thick waves into a complicated chignon with soft curls framing her face.
They would not be going out of doors so there was no need for a bonnet, and Georgiana suggested a bandeau instead.
Elizabeth was forced to remain seated, Georgiana’s hand holding the style in place while she pinned Elizabeth’s hair.
Elizabeth explained where to search, and Jane soon selected a white bandeau decorated with tiny, light blue glass beads.
“Oh,” breathed Georgiana. “It is lovely against your dark hair, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth had chosen a white satin gown she favored but had never worn.
I shall wear stronger colors when I am married, she thought, and then smiled to herself.
Married. To Fitzwilliam. The gown itself was embellished with blue and green embroidery at the hem and waist in crescent patterns that reminded Elizabeth of ocean waves.
When her hair was at last complete, she was nearly afraid to move for fear of loosening the pins holding the style in place, but Mary laughed at her fears.
“There are so many pins in your hair, Lizzy, I believe you could go out into a gale and it would not dare move,” she said pertly.
Kitty and Lydia knocked and entered the room without waiting for a response.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Kitty exclaimed, “you are so beautiful!”
Lydia touched one sheer sleeve gently. “May I have this dress to wear when I marry, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth shook her head fondly. Mary is right. I do not think my hair dares move. “Lydia, by the time you marry, you shall want a newer, more fashionable gown. I promise to shop for it with you.”
Lydia was satisfied with the offer. She walked slowly around her sister, appraising her from every angle. “Mr. Darcy is going to be well pleased, Lizzy.”
Kitty nodded her agreement.
Elizabeth smiled nervously. She knew he would not care what she was wearing, but she did hope he noticed. She wondered whether he had arrived; her toilette had taken an excessively long time this morning.
“There,” Jane announced, examining their handiwork. “You are finished.”
There was another knock on the open door. “Not quite yet,” came a voice of the woman Elizabeth loved best of all. “May her mother and I speak with Elizabeth, girls?”
“Aunt Olivia!” she cried, twisting in her chair. She held one hand out to her aunt and one to her mother. “Mama,” she said, smiling, “I am happy you have come.”
Elizabeth’s mother reached out to cup her daughter’s cheek, her countenance calm but happy. Elizabeth held it there a moment, then rose to lead them both a settee in the small drawing room off her bedroom. Elizabeth smoothed her skirt behind her before sitting on a chair facing them.
“My dear girl,” her mother said, touching a handkerchief to her eye, “you are beautiful.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Elizabeth replied, and then smiled. “It took a great deal of work on the part of Jane and Georgie to make me so.”
“False modesty is unbecoming,” Aunt Olivia said sternly, but her eyes twinkled as she said it.
Elizabeth winked at her aunt, who shook her head.
“Impertinent girl,” Aunt Olivia replied, her lips pressed into a wistful smile. “I have told your mother that this house is yours, Lizzy, and she was surprised to hear it. I told her that neither she nor the girls will ever have to worry about having a place to live.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Mama, I believed Papa has told you as much.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded. “He did, it is true, but he so often makes a jest of things that I could never be entirely easy. The girls have dowries enough to support them,” she said, “but I worry all the same.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, “I promise you shall always have a home. The dower house is on Bennet land, and if you are willing to work within the budget Papa sets, we shall see it put to rights for you.”
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward to pat her daughter’s hand, calmer than Elizabeth had seen her in her entire stay at Longbourn.
“I would prefer to remain in Hertfordshire, and the dower house is on the Meryton side of the estate.
It is very kind of you, my dear.“ She stood. “You are a stunning bride, my Lizzy.” She stroked Elizabeth’s cheek with the back of one hand.
She sighed, rather dramatically, Elizabeth thought.
“I thought I had lost you. But your aunt has explained it all to me. I only wish I had listened sooner.” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief again.
“I was so determined to protect my heart that I wounded yours. I am so sorry.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth replied with a great sense of relief, “it is all in the past. Let us go forward now.”
“That is precisely what your aunt has said,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “I shall, Lizzy.” She smiled wanly. “I shall try.” She kissed Elizabeth’s forehead. “I will go downstairs now and tell everyone you are ready.”
Elizabeth watched her leave before turning to her aunt. “Aunt Olivia!” she exclaimed with a shocked laugh. “What did you say to her?”
Aunt Olivia still sat on the settee, hands folded properly in her lap. “I heard from one of the maids that she had begun to complain.”