Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“The debts he accrued were substantial,” Colonel Forster continued, keeping his voice low enough that nearby guests could not overhear.
“And with his dismissal from the militia for falsified references, he had no means to satisfy them. He will remain imprisoned until such time as he can pay what he owes, which I suspect will be a considerable duration. Years, most likely.”
“Thank you for informing me, Colonel,” Darcy replied, his voice steady though Elizabeth felt some of the tension ease from his frame. “I appreciate your diligence in the matter, and your discretion in bringing it to my attention.”
Colonel Forster bowed again and withdrew, melting back into the crowd.
Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s arm, understanding what this news meant.
Wickham could harm no one else, at least for now.
Georgiana was safe from any further schemes he might have attempted, and so were Elizabeth’s vulnerable younger sisters.
The man who had caused so much pain to the Darcy family was finally facing consequences for his actions.
“One more threat neutralised,” Elizabeth murmured, low enough that only Darcy could hear.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed softly. “Though I find I care less about Wickham’s fate today than I would have thought possible. There are far more important things demanding my attention.”
His eyes met hers with warmth that made her breath catch, and Elizabeth felt a smile tug at her lips despite the solemnity of Colonel Forster’s news.
“Come,” Darcy said, guiding her towards their waiting carriage.
“Your mother will be devastated if we are late to the breakfast she has worked so hard to arrange. And I confess I am eager to begin celebrating our marriage properly, surrounded by friends and family who actually know the woman I married.”
The reference to the London ceremony, to Anne’s deception, was subtle enough that no one else would catch it. But Elizabeth understood, and felt grateful for Darcy’s acknowledgement of how much this day meant to her.
Longbourn’s dining room and drawing room had been transformed for the wedding breakfast, every surface laden with delicacies that represented Mrs. Bennet’s finest efforts.
Cold meats and raised pies, syllabubs and jellies, fruit tarts and iced cakes, all arranged with attention to presentation that would have done credit to far grander establishments.
The house buzzed with conversation and laughter as guests filled every available space, helping themselves to the impressive spread whilst offering toasts to the happy couple.
Mrs. Bennet moved through the crowd in a state of such elevated delight that Elizabeth worried she might actually faint from the excitement.
Her face was flushed, her fan working frantically, her voice carrying above the general din as she accepted compliments on the arrangements with barely contained triumph.
When Lady Matlock approached their hostess with warm congratulations on the excellence of the breakfast, Mrs. Bennet’s joy reached heights that made her nearly incoherent.
“Your Ladyship is too kind!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. “I only wished to do justice to the occasion. My Lizzy marrying so well, you understand, it deserves proper celebration! I wanted everything to be perfect.”
“You have succeeded admirably,” Lady Matlock replied with genuine warmth that suggested she found Mrs. Bennet’s enthusiasm endearing rather than vulgar.
“You have done Elizabeth proud, Mrs. Bennet. And your home is most welcoming. Mr. Darcy is fortunate indeed to be joining such a warm and loving family.”
Elizabeth watched her mother receive this praise with satisfaction that went beyond mere social triumph.
Mrs. Bennet had worked tirelessly to make this day perfect, had driven Cook and the servants to distraction with her exacting standards and constant changes to the menu.
Seeing her efforts recognised by someone of Lady Matlock’s standing clearly meant the world to her, validation that all her planning and fretting had achieved its purpose.
“You are too good, my lady,” Mrs. Bennet managed, tears gathering in her eyes. “Too good indeed. I am quite overcome. To have such illustrious company honouring our humble home!”
Across the room, Elizabeth noted Colonel Fitzwilliam in quiet conversation with Jane, their heads bent close together in a way that suggested the discussion was of a decidedly private nature.
The Colonel’s expression showed a tender regard that made Elizabeth’s heart warm with hope for her sister’s future happiness.
His hand rested near Jane’s shoulder on the back of the settee where they sat, not quite touching but close enough to suggest intimacy that would have been improper without the promise of courtship between them.
Jane’s face had coloured slightly, but her smile showed genuine pleasure at whatever the Colonel was saying. Elizabeth saw her sister glance towards their mother, then back to the Colonel with an expression that suggested she was seriously considering whatever proposal he might be building towards.
Georgiana had been claimed by Kitty and Lydia, who were peppering her with questions about Pemberley and London with enthusiasm that might have overwhelmed someone less patient. But Georgiana seemed to be managing admirably, her natural shyness overcome by genuine interest in her new sisters.
“Is it true that Pemberley has more than a hundred rooms?” Lydia was asking, her eyes wide with fascination.
“And that the ballroom can accommodate two hundred guests?” Kitty added, practically bouncing with excitement.
Georgiana answered their questions with gentle patience, her responses encouraging rather than discouraging their enthusiasm despite its somewhat vulgar intensity.
Mr. Collins had cornered Darcy again, his obsequious manner reaching new heights as he expounded on the condescension of Lady Catherine. His hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his expression showing such exaggerated respect that it bordered on farcical.
“My esteemed patroness has been most generous in her attentions,” Mr. Collins was saying, his voice carrying across the room despite his apparent attempt at discretion.
“Most generous indeed! Why, just last month she condescended to advise me on the arrangement of my shelves, and her insights were invaluable. Invaluable! I am certain you must feel the loss of her guidance most acutely, Mr. Darcy, now that circumstances have taken her to Bath.”
Darcy’s expression showed polite tolerance, though Elizabeth could read the irritation beneath his careful courtesy. His jaw had tightened slightly, his responses to Mr. Collins’s effusions growing briefer and more clipped.
Elizabeth moved to rescue him, slipping her hand through his arm with proprietary ease that still felt novel but increasingly natural. “Mr. Collins, you must excuse us. I believe my father wishes to propose a toast.”
Mr. Collins bowed deeply, releasing them with flowery protestations about not wishing to monopolise the groom’s attention.
“Of course, of course! How inconsiderate of me! Though I hope we might speak further later, Mr. Darcy. I have several thoughts regarding the management of parish affairs that I would value your opinion on, given your evident wisdom in such matters.”
Darcy inclined his head with minimal courtesy and allowed Elizabeth to guide him away. His hand covered hers on his arm, squeezing gently in silent gratitude.
“Thank you,” he murmured quietly. “Another few minutes of his obsequious flattery and I fear I would have said something regrettable.”
“I could not allow my husband to commit murder at our wedding breakfast,” Elizabeth replied with amusement. “It would quite spoil the festivities.”
Mr. Bennet did indeed call for attention, raising his glass with ceremonial gravity that suggested genuine feeling beneath his usual sardonic manner. The crowd quieted, all eyes turning towards the master of Longbourn as he prepared to speak.
“To my daughter Elizabeth,” Mr. Bennet began, his voice carrying clearly through the suddenly silent rooms, “and her husband Mr. Darcy. I have known Lizzy impertinent since childhood, have watched her develop a liveliness of mind that bordered on impudence and a wit that often tested the limits of proper courtesy. These qualities made her my particular favourite amongst my daughters, I confess, for she was never insipid or vapid or content to simply accept what others told her to think.”
He paused, his eyes finding Elizabeth’s across the room. “I wish her every happiness with a man who has proven himself worthy of her particular brand of impertinence.”
Elizabeth felt tears gather despite her best efforts to contain them.
Her father had known that something was not right with his favourite daughter when she came to London, rushing to marry a man she had always expressed dislike of.
He had mentioned something of it to her a few days ago, quietly, with a question in his eyes, and she had hesitated only briefly before telling him the whole.
He had embraced her lovingly, telling her that he believed her.
Mr. Bennet had read enough accounts of utter strangeness to know that there were things in the world that could not be explained by ordinary means, and he was only sorry his daughter had been the victim of one of them.
They had talked long into the evening, Mr. Bennet seeking to assure himself that she truly wished to be Mrs. Darcy, but Elizabeth had been able to assure him that she did.
That she truly believed Mr. Darcy to be the best of men, and however their union might have come about, she was the furthest thing from sorry about it.