Chapter 35 Betrothed
Bingley returned to Pemberley late that same afternoon. They all gathered round him in the drawing room to hear his news.
“My sister and her husband have come to an understanding,” he said with evident relief. “They have discussed their concerns and are both willing to work things out. I am feeling very positive about their future together.”
He turned to Jane. “Miss Bennet, would you walk in the garden with me? There is time enough, before we must dress for dinner.”
Jane’s eyes were hopeful. “Yes. Let me fetch my shawl and bonnet.”
He accompanied her to the hall and assisted her with her shawl. As they stepped into the rose garden, Charles drew near and offered his arm.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, his voice low and earnest, “I have loved you since the moment I first met you in Hertfordshire. At the time, my life was in turmoil, and my sister created so much chaos that I could not think of pursuing a connection. But now she is settled, and her husband is well able to manage her tempers.”
He stopped walking and took Jane’s hand in his. “Jane, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
She returned his look, her eyes bright with emotion. He took her other hand and smiled. “What say you, Jane? Will you marry me?”
He drew her gently into his arms and held her close. Bending his head, he brushed his lips over hers.
“Jane,” he whispered against her mouth, “will you marry me?”
“Yes, Charles,” she murmured. “If I do not speak, it is only because I am so overcome with joy that words fail me.” A broken sob escaped her. “I will marry you.”
He kissed her again, lingeringly, before releasing her. Then he offered his arm, and they continued through the garden, speaking quietly of a future that was at last opening before them.
Elizabeth, Darcy, and Mary stood at the front entrance of Pemberley to bid farewell to the rector.
Elizabeth turned to her sister with a teasing smile. “Mary, I believe the rector has turned his eye upon you.”
Mary sighed. “That is all very well, sister, but once he learns that I have no dowry, he will repent of his attentions.” Turning to Mr. Darcy, she added, “Sir, would you be so good as to give him a hint of my expectations? I would not have him mistakenly suppose that, because my sister is well married, her sister must therefore be a woman of means.” Her gaze dropped to her gown.
“I fear my dress may also give him that mistaken impression, for no woman of little fortune would appear in gowns so fine as those I have worn while he has visited us.”
Darcy’s expression grew grave. “I will, Miss Mary. You are very thoughtful to consider his feelings and the possible disappointment if he is misled in this manner. I shall visit him on purpose to inform him. I had wished to congratulate him on his fine sermon. I will do it tomorrow and give him a hint of the other.”
As they turned to enter the house, Bingley and Jane rounded the corner, emerging from the hedge-lined path.
Jane came forward and took both of Elizabeth’s hands. “Lizzy, I am betrothed.”
Elizabeth uttered a delighted cry and drew her sister into a warm embrace. “I am so very happy for you, dearest. You deserve every happiness.”
She stepped back, and Mary embraced Jane in turn. Across the gravel path, Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy clasp Bingley’s shoulder in hearty congratulations.
“Now, Charles,” Darcy said with a grin, “all that remains is for you to purchase an estate here in Derbyshire, somewhere close, that our wives may visit each other as often as they please.”
Bingley laughed. “I will, Darcy. I shall set my solicitor to find me an estate as soon as may be.”
“I am so fond of this notion,” said Darcy, “that we have already written to instruct my solicitor to seek one out for you.”
Bingley laughed again. “I say, Darcy, you must have been very confident that Miss Bennet would accept my suit.”
Darcy’s eyes looked amused. “I was. Anyone but a blind man could see that she adores you, Charles.”
He turned toward the women. “Come, let us go in and celebrate with a toast.”
They found the rest of their guests gathered in the music room, listening to Georgiana at the pianoforte. When Bingley made his announcement, the ladies rushed forward to embrace Jane. Darcy served wine to each of them and raised his glass.
“To your happiness,” he said. “May all your endeavors prosper, may your children grow into upstanding members of society, and may your love last into eternity.”
Late that afternoon, the Lewises arrived. Darcy and Elizabeth were on hand to greet them, as the others had already gone up to dress for dinner. Darcy made the introductions, then Elizabeth led Miss Lewis upstairs to her room.
As they ascended the staircase, Elizabeth asked, “How far is your brother’s estate from Pemberley, Miss Lewis?”
Isabella reached for Elizabeth’s hand. “Shall we dispense with the formalities? Please call me Isabella, and may I call you Elizabeth?”
Laughing, Elizabeth said, “Yes, let us.”
“Then, Elizabeth,” Isabella continued, “our journey was quite easy. We live but seventeen miles from here. We should have arrived earlier, but my brother’s steward took an inordinate amount of time…”
She stopped speaking abruptly. Elizabeth followed her gaze and saw Richard standing in the entrance hall below.
His eyes were fixed upon the young lady, and hers upon him.
For a moment, they stood silent and still.
Then Richard’s eyes flicked to Elizabeth’s; he bowed and stepped quietly back into the blue salon.
Elizabeth turned to her guest, who was visibly out of countenance, her face flushed. Seeking to cover the awkward moment, Elizabeth began cheerfully, “My elder sister Jane has just announced her engagement. Her fiancé is Mr. Charles Bingley. Do you know him?”
Isabella recovered herself and replied. “Yes, I have met Mr. Bingley. He attended university with my brother and his friends. He has visited Pemberley every summer since they first became acquainted, and my brother often invited the three of them to our home to fish.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “Three gentlemen?”
Isabella blushed again. “Yes, Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said, her tone mild. “Our other guests include Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam, and my younger sister, Mary. Dinner is served at seven. Shall I send up hot water for a bath?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Isabella replied. “I should like to wash off the dust from our journey.”
“This is your room,” Elizabeth said kindly. “Ring if you need anything. I will have the water sent up directly.”
She left her guest and walked toward the family wing. Entering her chambers, she started when she almost bumped into her husband, who was standing just inside the door.
“Fitzwilliam! You startled me. I imagined you downstairs with Mr. Lewis and the colonel.”
“No,” he said, “Lewis is out walking. He rode all seventeen miles and wished to stretch his legs before dressing for dinner.”
“I see,” she said, waiting.
He hesitated, then spoke. “Elizabeth, there is a woman for whom I once had a tendre.”
Elizabeth stiffened, pressing a hand to her breast in an effort to calm the wild beating of her heart.
He took her arm and led her to the couch. “My darling, there is nothing for you to fear,” he said softly. “I speak of Miss Ashbrook. She has been away these many years, and to speak truth, I never expected to see her again. But yesterday the rector mentioned she has returned to her father’s house.”
He looked at her, but as she remained silent, waiting, he continued. “As I said, it has been many years since we last spoke.”
“How many?” she asked quietly.
He raised a brow in question.
She repeated herself. “How many years?”
“Let me see. I was one-and-twenty when she went away to Scotland, and I returned to university.”
Elizabeth regarded him steadily.
“I only wished to tell you that at one time we both had feelings for each other. But I discovered that my attachment was the stronger when she turned to another. As I said, I returned to university, and she removed to Scotland to reside with family in Edinburgh. I have not heard of her since.” He looked directly into Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Darling, I never wished to know more of her. I could not bear to think upon the betrayal.”
“Did I come between the two of you, sir?” Elizabeth asked softly.
He met her eyes. “No. That attachment ended long ago. I merely wanted you to know that there was once some history between us, that you might not be taken unawares when we meet her.”
He shifted, turning to face her more directly. “I remember her as being dramatic and demonstrative. I cannot say how she will be now, as a woman of five-and-twenty, but I wished to put you on your guard in case…”
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, one brow raised. “In case?”
Darcy hesitated. “Christiana was always rather demonstrative. There is no saying but that she may attempt to embrace me when we meet.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed. “Embrace you, sir? Why, I have never yet embraced my own husband, yet this woman may embrace you?”
He shifted uneasily. “Of course, I shall do my utmost to prevent it. But if she is as she was before…”
Elizabeth turned toward him until her knees brushed his. “Prevent her, sir? And how, pray, will you prevent her embrace?”
He rubbed his jaw, and she noticed the shadow there; he would need to shave again before dinner. He looked like a hero of old with that dark shadow. Her gaze lingered a moment on his full lower lip before his voice recalled her to the present.
“If we meet, that is to say, when we meet, I shall offer my hand to her. She must either permit me to bow over her hand, or she will take my hand and shake it. Either way, I can avoid an embrace.”
Elizabeth huffed. “And if I am near, I shall stand between you and offer my hand, introducing myself as your wife.”
He grinned. Was Elizabeth jealous? Did she even realize it? He doubted it, but she was claiming him, and that was another step toward the intimacy he craved.
Aloud, he said, “That will do very well, Mrs. Darcy. I doubt she could get around you to wrap her arms about my neck if you were standing guard.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Her arms about your neck, sir? I thought you said she was a gentleman’s daughter! From what you say of her, it appears to me she has no breeding at all.”
Darcy chuckled. “Elizabeth, we have known each other since she was five years old, when her father inherited from his elder brother. As she grew older, she would tag along with us: riding, fishing, shooting. And yes, she was demonstrative, fond of small embraces. I once thought we should marry.”
Elizabeth was very still. “Do you love her, Mr. Darcy?”
He took her hand. “I do not. Looking back now, I believe I never felt more for her than calf love. Though I suffered at the time, I see now that I did not suffer nearly enough. Had we married, I fear whatever affection we once held would have died long before its time. I believe now, she did me a kindness when she turned to another.”
Elizabeth did not speak but sat quietly, her gaze fixed on her folded hands.
He broke the silence. “Elizabeth, did I do well to tell you, or would you rather I had remained silent?”
She lifted her eyes to his. “No, sir. I would expect you to tell me. I should have felt betrayed had you kept silent, for then she would know more of your past than I. She would know of your former attachment, and I should have been the foolish wife left in ignorance. How she would crow over me.”
She placed her hand upon his. “No, sir, never keep a secret from me, and I promise you, I will do the same.”