Chapter 22
Mrs Bennet was certain that her nerves would never survive the distress of such extraordinary events.
After Lydia’s unexpected marriage—at the precocious age of fifteen—to the handsome but reckless Mr Wickham, Mrs Bennet struggled now to endure the greater happiness of soon having three daughters married.
In two days, both Lizzy and Jane would be wedded more advantageously than she had ever imagined.
Until then, however, she had to rise to the expectation of having Lady Selina, Lord Brightmore, Lord Matlock and his youngest son as guests for dinner. So many titled persons gathered together were unheard of both at Longbourn and in Meryton.
Of course, Lady Lucas dared to presume that she could offer advice and support. What a joke, indeed! Charlotte marries Mr Collins, and suddenly that makes Lady Lucas qualified to deal with the nobility? Oh, where is Hill?
In the library, Mr Bennet returned to his usual habits.
He was quite devastated at the thought that he would lose his favourite daughter and seldom have the joy of sensible conversation, but he was content to know that he was losing his eldest daughters to lives full of joy and happiness.
Besides, Darcy already told him—repeatedly—that he was most welcome to visit any of their homes whenever he pleased, so he anticipated that he would travel frequently in the future.
Two days earlier, Mrs Gardiner and her children had arrived; Darcy and Bingley were already at Netherfield, and the Matlocks and Miss Darcy were expected later that day. That evening, they were all invited to dine at Netherfield, and the next evening they would enjoy a great dinner at Longbourn.
To distract him from his emotions, Mr Bennet opened the letter he received a week before from Mr Collins. Until that point, he was not particularly curious to discover what his cousin had to say, but now he thought it might be an amusing diversion.
Mr Bennet started to read, and each passing moment the smile on his face grew.
Mr Collins began with congratulations on the approaching nuptials of the eldest daughters and gave a fair amount of attention to Elizabeth’s wedding to Mr Darcy, a “young gentleman who is blessed, in a peculiar way, with everything the heart of mortal can most desire—splendid property, noble kindred, and extensive patronage.” Yet in spite of such obvious temptations, Mr Collins generously warned Elizabeth and Mr Bennet of “what evils you may incur by a precipitate marriage to that gentleman, which, of course, you will be inclined to take immediate advantage of. My motive for cautioning you is as follows: we have reason to imagine that his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh does not look on the match with a friendly eye; her ladyship expressed very clearly her opinion against this alliance, which she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to give the speediest intelligence of this to you and to my cousin, that she and her noble admirer may be aware of what they are about and not run hastily into a marriage that has not been properly sanctioned.” Mr Collins moreover added, “I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia’s sad business has been so well hushed up, and I am only concerned that their scandalous elopement before the marriage took place should be so generally known and will greatly affect the reputation of your entire family.
I hope that you will not encourage the vice by receiving them at Longbourn any time again; you ought certainly to forgive them as a Christian but never to admit them in your sight or allow their names to be mentioned in your hearing; Lady Catherine herself was very specific about this. ”
The rest of his letter was only about his dear Charlotte’s situation and his expectation of a young olive branch, and Mr Bennet could hardly contain his laughter, imagining the discussion between Lady Catherine—wildly furious—and Mr Collins—struggling to direct her anger towards any other person than himself.
By then, Mr Collins surely must know that Elizabeth’s marriage to Mr Darcy would happen, no matter how little Lady Catherine approved it.
Surely, her anger had become a deadly storm, and Mr Collins was a willow in her wind.
Mr Bennet amused himself a little longer; then he took up pen and paper and wrote with a contentment he had rarely felt.
Dear Sir,
I apologise for my late reply, but we have been busy with the latest preparations for the wedding. As I am certain you know, Elizabeth will be the wife of Mr Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.
Yours, there will be a whole month with no better company than mine, so you should enjoy the large party while you can as you will surely miss it.”
“I am sure you will be excellent company.” She laughed again. “But I confess that I will miss Meryton and those four and twenty families at whom you once laughed. I feel the need of looking at every spot one more time to fix it in my mind.”
“That was unkind, Miss Bennet! I remember the discussion clearly, and I did not laugh at the four and twenty families—” He stopped and turned her to him, looking into her eyes, and suddenly changed his tone.
“I imagine you will miss your home, but you must know that we shall return any time you wish. And your family will visit us at Pemberley in a month. I do not like to see you sad.”
“Yes, I know. I thank you for worrying about me, but I am not sad—not at all.” He embraced her, and she laid her head against his chest.
“What would you say to a last, long ride—from Longbourn to Netherfield and back? We can return before the others arrive.”
Elizabeth nodded without hesitation, a bright sparkle in her eyes. He called Thunder—who walked calmly behind them—and they both mounted.
This time she was neither frightened nor embarrassed; she cuddled in Darcy’s arms, adjusting her body to fit the saddle, her hands holding his tightly. He held her forcibly close to him while he commanded the stallion; Thunder started at a slow pace that gradually increased to a full gallop.
Elizabeth knew the surroundings well; every path, every tree, and every prospect moved past at a dizzying speed.
Up on Thunder’s back, tightly clenched in Darcy’s arms and the wind blowing gently through her hair, Elizabeth took her farewell of beloved places with tearful eyes, her heart torn by bittersweet feelings.
They rode in silence for some time until they noticed two carriages below in the valley, heading towards Netherfield. The guests had arrived; it was time to return home.
As Thunder slowed his pace and entered a protected grove of trees, Darcy turned her head to face him.
She immediately understood his gaze and felt nervous anticipation as he claimed her lips, first gently then more daringly.
She allowed his passion to overwhelm her; his demanding mouth and hands firmly caressed every part he could reach—back, neck, shoulders, hips, thighs—with increased possessiveness, and she thought of nothing but the sensations that caused her to tremble.
Her mind briefly warned her that someone could see them, but she dismissed it immediately.
She cared little for such thoughts since she had surrendered her heart and body to him.
“I have always enjoyed riding, but never as much as in the last weeks,” he whispered as he tried to breathe; she laughed.
“I am not quite sure that this can be called riding,” she said, breathlessly. “And I am certain poor Thunder is not at all fond of having to carry such a heavy burden. He will be delighted once I learn to ride on my own.”
“Well, Thunder may have to wait a little longer. I am seriously considering a delay of our riding lessons for the time being,” he said as his lips enjoyed the soft skin of her neck.
“Things are quite perfect as they are; I do not think there is a need for you to learn to ride anytime soon,” he mumbled then claimed her lips once more while his hand tightened its grip on her thigh.