Chapter 16
Sixteen
Darcy woke that morning in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. As was his habit, he rose early, although he remained abed for a few moments, turning over the events of the past days in his mind.
He was to marry Elizabeth within a matter of days, and the thought stirred a satisfaction far deeper than he cared to examine too closely. If he were entirely honest with himself, he had desired her for months, long before his first proposal in April.
Despite every effort to banish her from his thoughts following that disastrous episode, he had never truly succeeded in doing so; even at his most resolute, she had persisted, unwelcome and unbidden, yet impossible to forget.
At the most unexpected moments, the recollection of her smile, or one of her lively, pert replies, would return to him with such clarity as to render every attempt at indifference entirely futile.
There were other recollections, too—less easily named—moments when her nearness, the warmth of her presence, or the lightest brush of her hand lingered with a force he could neither explain nor wholly dismiss.
Once or twice, in sleep, such impressions had taken on a more vivid form, only to leave him, upon waking, both unsettled and unwilling to examine them too closely.
It was strange to find himself in Hertfordshire again after all that had passed; yet the circumstance that brought him there left little room for dissatisfaction.
That he should so soon call Elizabeth his own, and with her willing affection now so readily displayed, was a prospect he found himself returning to with increasing frequency, despite his efforts to govern his thoughts.
The knowledge that she would soon be wholly his—trusted to his care, and sharing his life—was one he could not dwell upon without a degree of feeling that demanded restraint.
There were moments, even now, when he could not entirely persuade himself that he was not waking from some most agreeable dream, one that must inevitably dissolve.
At last, he rose from the bed and began to prepare for the day, forcing such thoughts from his mind, at least for the present.
Some time later, he arrived at the church in Meryton that he had visited the previous autumn.
Briefly, he wondered how his sudden appearance would be received, particularly since he intended to walk into the church with Elizabeth on his arm, but those thoughts barely troubled him.
He had timed his arrival well; he was just stepping out of his carriage when Elizabeth and the rest of the Bennet family appeared along the lane.
It was obvious they had walked to church; he recalled they had done so the previous year as well.
He had not wondered about it then, but he wished he had thought to send his carriage.
This morning, he was pleased that he might at least escort Elizabeth and his sister back to Longbourn after the services.
Before greeting Elizabeth, he spoke briefly to his driver, instructing him to call for him that evening at Longbourn.
That done, he strode forward to join Elizabeth, who walked beside Georgiana and her sister Mary, with Mrs Annesley following close behind with Kitty. The entire Bennet family was in attendance, but it was evident that several in the party were displeased.
Lydia no longer had her hair arranged in the manner of a young lady, and her dress lacked all the ornament expected of a young lady who was out.
She appeared once more like the young girl she was, though her jutting lip indicated her displeasure.
Her aunt and uncle stood on either side of her like guards, while Mrs Bennet walked beside her husband, her own face pinched with unhappiness.
Darcy knew he had been fortunate to have been out of doors when Mrs Bennet was informed of the final plans for the wedding, but he had hoped she might display some pleasure this morning, knowing that their wedding would be announced at the conclusion of the service.
Elizabeth seemed at last to notice him, for she quickened her steps and, a moment later, arrived at his side.
“Good morning, Fitzwilliam,” she greeted him quietly, with little outward display of her enthusiasm.
Still, he could see it plainly in her eyes, and felt it answer something in himself he had not yet learnt to govern.
“Good morning, dearest Elizabeth,” he returned, just as quietly. She took his arm, and they began to walk in step towards the church, Elizabeth pausing now and again to offer greetings to friends and neighbours.
It was evident that most were surprised to see him; only Mr Phillips had known of his impending arrival, and he supposed the man had told his wife the night before. What else they might know, he could not determine; but they would all be informed soon enough.
As they neared the church, Sir William stepped forward to greet them.
“Good morning, Mr Darcy. What a surprise it is to see you in the area,” he said, with a meaningful glance at the unexpected pair.
“When your friend did not return, not even to take his leave, we had not expected to see any of his party again.”
“I met with Miss Elizabeth in April while I was visiting my aunt, and she was staying with Mrs Collins,” Darcy replied, with a slight inclination of his head.
“We renewed the acquaintance when Miss Elizabeth was lately in Derbyshire. It was quite an unexpected meeting, but I was pleased to see her again.”
Sir William appeared uncertain how to respond, but said, “Capital—capital!” in a boisterous tone, once more glancing at their linked arms. He offered nothing further, nor did Darcy or Elizabeth add to it, and after a moment, he hurried away to greet another acquaintance, only to be replaced by someone else.
“You are doing well,” Elizabeth murmured to him after several such exchanges. He squeezed her arm in silent acknowledgement, but before more could be said, the bells rang, signalling it was time to enter.
The Bennet pew, along with the one behind it, was overflowing with the addition of the Gardiners, along with Georgiana and Mrs Annesley, so Darcy conducted Elizabeth to a seat just behind, where they might sit together without inconvenience to the rest.
He could feel the eyes of a great many upon him, and he almost smiled to himself as he realised how odd it must seem for him and his sister to have suddenly arrived in the area with little warning.
As his attention had been wholly occupied with Elizabeth, and with playing his part as a devoted suitor, he could only assume that Georgiana had been introduced to others as well.
She had entered between Mary and Kitty Bennet, with Mrs Annesley following a step or two behind.
Already, it seemed the three girls had formed the beginnings of a friendship.
He was pleased by this, and recalled Elizabeth briefly mentioning inviting one or more of her sisters to join Georgiana at Pemberley during their wedding journey.
The familiar service passed quickly. Darcy was acutely aware of Elizabeth’s presence beside him, and he could not deny that he sat a little nearer than he strictly ought.
At the conclusion of the prayers, when the congregation had begun to settle in expectation of the final notices, the rector stepped forward once more.
“It is my duty to announce that a marriage is intended to be solemnised between Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Derbyshire, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of this parish, on Wednesday next, by common license.”
A murmur, low but unmistakable, passed through the church.
He cleared his throat to regain the attention of all present. “I trust the congregation will join me in wishing them every happiness.”
Darcy felt the eyes of nearly everyone in the room turn towards him and Elizabeth.
Their curiosity was palpable, and so much attention was fixed upon them that he was keenly aware of every movement.
He kept his gaze forward, allowing himself only the briefest inclination of his head when the rector glanced in their direction.
Beside him, Elizabeth shifted almost imperceptibly, and he felt her fingers find his hand, their clasp concealed beneath the folds of her skirts.
When the service was concluded, the congregation lingered rather longer than usual, as though reluctant to depart without first satisfying their curiosity. Darcy rose and offered Elizabeth his arm once more, conscious that every movement would now be observed.
As they exited, he paused to thank the rector, who mentioned their appointment on Monday to discuss the particulars of the ceremony.
“I remember you from last autumn, and if Miss Elizabeth has accepted you, she must consider you worthy. It is my hope that you have shown her a different side of yourself than you did before,” the man added in a lowered voice at the close of their brief exchange.
Darcy felt a warmth rise along his neck, brought on as much by the rector’s quiet censure as by the immediate recollection of how well it was deserved.
He nodded in acknowledgment of his words and led Elizabeth outside, where Mrs Bennet was already surrounded by her neighbours, receiving their congratulations with evident satisfaction and responding to them with equal eagerness.
Her voice carried across the churchyard in animated tones, rising and falling with a familiarity that suggested the conversation had moved well beyond simple felicitation, into details he had no wish to hear repeated—and which he suspected were already much exaggerated.
Darcy caught only fragments—references to Lydia, to Brighton, to the suddenness of the wedding—but he turned his attention firmly away from them.