Chapter 1
Elizabeth had never known such happiness, preparing for her wedding day with an interest never shown before in such womanly matters, at least not before Darcy.
Her sisters’ conversations about weddings and dresses had never interested her, and she had always considered all the fuss surrounding such an occasion a waste of time.
Love meant finding the perfect companion for her soul and mind, not the perfect dress for her wedding day.
Marriage was a serious matter and deserved to be treated as such.
But her love for Darcy had changed everything, and from the moment she said yes to his proposal, her personal view on life had changed.
She now believed that every effort was justified, and her most ardent wish was to make their wedding day unforgettable.
She wanted flowers everywhere—in the chapel, on the chaise, even woven amongst her elegant ringlets.
She could already picture her groom standing proudly beside her, laughing as he scattered coins to the village children, according to the old custom believed to bring a long life, happiness and prosperity to the newly married couple.
“My dear Elizabeth,” he said, half smiling, half afraid he had lost the beautiful, rebellious girl he used to know, “it is only one day. Our marriage will last a lifetime. One day cannot compete with all those that are to follow.”
“It is our first day together, my love. Our first day as husband and wife. I want us to remember it forever,” Elizabeth whispered.
“We shall, I promise you. But now come to London. Your father could accompany you to the Gardiners’, and we could attend a few parties or go to the theatre if you wished. In London, we can be together in a way we cannot here.”
They were speaking in her parents’ house, where he always had the uneasy feeling that someone might be listening outside the door. For the past fortnight he had been staying at Netherfield, Bingley’s estate, to be nearer to Elizabeth, hoping for opportunities to be alone with her.
Yet he had to go to London. He had postponed his departure for as long as he possibly could, but as the wedding drew nearer he had no choice but to leave and attend to the last of his business there, however reluctant he was to part from Elizabeth.
At the same time, he hoped they might spend more than a few stolen moments together if she decided to accompany him.
His future wife, however, preferred to remain at home whilst he travelled to London to conclude his business. She was eager to complete the wedding preparations and, he suspected, to spend a little more time with her family before beginning a new life away from them.
Georgiana was also at Netherfield and often met Elizabeth, much to the delight of them both. At least they still had time to become better acquainted, he thought, trying to see the brighter side of her decision.
That very day Elizabeth was to meet Georgiana at the milliner’s shop in Meryton.
Disappointed that she had refused to accompany him to London, Darcy had offered to escort her as far as the crossroads, where he would take the road to London.
They walked away from Longbourn in silence, Darcy leading his horse by the reins as he stayed close beside her.
He longed to take her in his arms and feel her slender body against his own, but such a liberty was impossible.
At any moment, a member of the Bennet family, a servant, or a friend paying a visit might appear.
From time to time, he took her hand, only for her to withdraw it playfully, scolding him for being too audacious.
He longed to be at his dear Pemberley, where a man could walk beside his betrothed with nobody around to disturb them; he longed to have her there with him, but then realised that once she was there, they would be husband and wife, with no need to steal kisses or embraces during their walks.
He dared to imagine her alone with him, far from the meadows, in the privacy of their chambers.
“I like your petticoat,” he said in a deliberately meaningful tone, knowing she was always uncomfortable with such intimate teasing.
She thought he meant to punish her for refusing to go to London, but in truth, Darcy simply enjoyed seeing her cheeks colour. They always did whenever he came close and whispered words she could never have imagined hearing before.
“You must write to me every day,” she ordered, still blushing. “I will not be pleased with anything less from you, sir.”
“Yes, my lady, but you could hear all my news directly if you came to London. It is not too late. We could still go back and persuade your father. Please, Elizabeth.” He made one last attempt. “Please come to London.”
He meant every word, while she merely smiled and hurriedly kissed him on the cheek.
The kiss reminded Darcy of the last evening when the Bennets had dined at Netherfield. They had been alone for a few precious moments under the pretext of his showing her a book.
At least she no longer kissed him with the innocence of an inexperienced girl.
During the past fortnight, their intimacy had steadily deepened, making him look forward to their wedding night with joy and eager anticipation.
His Elizabeth was not one of those affectedly coy young ladies.
Her body had become a promise she was only beginning to fulfil, though she was still far from the woman he longed to have within so short a time.
Let her have her wedding day, he thought. I shall have my wedding night, which will require far less preparation.
“Where are you meeting Georgiana, my love?”
Elizabeth paused for a moment in the middle of the road. She wished to remain with her betrothed for as long as she could, but there was no reason to delay. They had already reached Meryton, and the milliner’s shop was visible in the distance.
“Oh, yes,” Darcy said, seeing the carriage standing before the shop.
“My sister is already here. I see she has been accompanied by young Acton, Bingley’s cousin.
” Indeed, not far from the carriage stood a young gentleman beside his horse, evidently waiting, who bowed respectfully as soon as he saw them.
“In that case, I can leave you with an easy mind. You are perfectly safe, both of you,” he said, looking at his betrothed with a lingering gaze.
∞∞∞
He smiled as he galloped away from her, knowing that her eyes were still following him, hoping she might regret his departure and the distance it would place between them.
I am going to London alone, and she is not jealous at all, he thought. Yet I am always jealous, even though I know Elizabeth wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her.
But deep in his heart, he had no reason to doubt her affection or her loyalty.
Despite her beauty, he knew few men would willingly accept her impertinent ways, her intelligence, and her independence.
Yet she was perfect for him, the wife he needed and had always dreamt of, a companion and a lover, not a simple housewife.
He had business to attend to in London, such as choosing a few modern pieces of jewellery for her in addition to the old family jewels his mother had left.
Less pleasant was a pressing letter from his aunt, Lady Catherine, inviting him to pay her a visit regarding an urgent matter that could not easily be explained in writing.
He was not happy at the prospect of seeing her; Lady Catherine was furious about his marriage, and she despised Elizabeth more than ever now that the wedding date had been fixed.
However, she was family, and Darcy hoped she would eventually come to terms with his marriage and develop a reasonable relationship with his wife.
He had not mentioned his aunt’s letter to Elizabeth, wishing to spare her any unnecessary distress.
Lady Catherine’s opinion did not count where their love and marriage were concerned.
He was somewhat sorry for his aunt’s stubbornness because she was his mother’s sister.
Yet even that did not give her the right to judge his choice and offend his future wife.
He still hoped for a reconciliation, and that was the principal reason he had agreed to see her in London.
Darcy was determined to put a stop to any offensive remarks his aunt might make about Elizabeth. In only a few weeks, Elizabeth would be his wife and the mistress of Pemberley, and she deserved all the respect such a position commanded.
∞∞∞
It was late afternoon when he arrived in London. Parker, his valet, was already waiting for him, and dinner was ready, but he had no appetite. He remained in the library for a long while, reading and thinking before finally forcing himself to eat a light meal.
He did not sleep well that night, and the grey morning brought neither comfort nor peace.
He left without mentioning his plans, leaving Parker wondering whether he would return at noon or only for dinner.
It was unusual for his master to leave no instructions, but Parker supposed his morning business would not be pleasant.
Darcy’s uneasiness grew as he approached his aunt’s house.
It sprang from the constant irritation, almost anger, he felt towards people who made other people’s lives their chief concern.
He detested gossip and the pointless rules by which the ton usually lived, and more often than not, his irritation showed.
Elizabeth had brought about a significant change in his life through her love and unaffected spirit, showing him paths he had never before considered.
Because of her, he was a better man, less proud and haughty, more tolerant of his friends’ faults, and more willing to accept people outside his usual circle.
The ride he took before calling on Lady Catherine had only one purpose—to clear his mind. He tried to think of Elizabeth and their marriage to improve his spirits. Even so, the image of her happy face making wedding plans was not enough to dispel his uneasiness about the conversation awaiting him.
The worry had not left him since receiving her letter.
Lady Catherine kept her heart firmly closed even when she tried to be friendly, and once she hated someone, she became a fierce enemy.
He had always been on amiable terms with her, and their first and only serious disagreement had arisen when he announced his intention of marrying Elizabeth.
Her London house had echoed then with her angry voice, making it impossible for him to utter even a word.
He had left deeply hurt and furious, hoping that his aunt would eventually understand that he was already betrothed and determined to marry.
Her cold, though not openly hostile, message could mean that she wished to make peace…but that was far from certain.
That morning, he intended to be calm but firm, to make her understand how much he valued Elizabeth and plead with her to accept their marriage.
But the worry had not disappeared. He knew only too well of his aunt’s long-cherished wish, which had lately become an obsession, that he should marry her daughter, Anne de Bourgh.
She had even claimed that she and his mother had reached a sort of understanding on her deathbed.
It was difficult to contest such a claim when one of the two people who could confirm it lay beyond the grave, yet Darcy also remembered his beloved mother’s last words.
She had wanted him to enjoy life and had urged him to find happiness, whatever it might require.
That radiant lady would never have imposed such a preposterous demand upon him.
Unfortunately, Lady Catherine was not the only one opposed to his decision.
Two weeks earlier, his uncle, Lord Matlock, had grimaced when Darcy announced his intention to marry Elizabeth. He had made few comments, but the expression on his face had said everything.
“My mother married my father out of affection, even though my father was not titled,” Darcy said, searching for an argument to defend his choice. Lady Anne Fitzwilliam had indeed married George Darcy, and nothing in the world could have prevented her from marrying the man she loved.
“Well, my dear boy,” Lord Matlock replied, “children do not always know the full story about their parents’ lives.”
Darcy chose not to argue further. Obviously, he would find no sympathy or support for his marriage in that house. At least his uncle’s opposition was based on concern for Darcy’s future acceptance in the ton, not on any personal interest.
“Your father at least belonged to an old family with an impressive fortune and strong connections.” His uncle had continued the discussion in precisely the direction Darcy had feared.
His sarcasm towards George Darcy showed that the family had accepted him only because he was rich, far richer than the Fitzwilliams.
“Miss Elizabeth is also wealthy…” Darcy said.
Lord Matlock looked at his nephew in surprise, waiting for him to continue.
“…in intelligence and education, and in those human qualities that make life worth living.”
But his argument would never persuade his uncle.
The only one he could count on was his cousin, Colonel George Fitzwilliam. His distinguished military career, and even more his honest character, had made him tolerant and benevolent. Darcy knew the colonel liked Elizabeth and approved of his choice.
Saddened and hurt by his family’s attitude, Darcy intended to nurture only those relationships that offered acceptance and kindness.
There were just three more weeks to wait, and then he would marry Elizabeth. Although she dreamt of a longer engagement, he wished to marry as soon as the licence was in his hands. There was no one to oppose his marriage, and no one could stop it.