Chapter 11
Netherfield
Two days Later
Jane stepped into the vestibule of Netherfield Hall and removed her hat and gloves, which she passed to a maid standing helpfully by. Elizabeth, a few steps behind her, did the same, and when the two ladies had smoothed their skirts, the butler guided them to the drawing room, where the rest of the party was waiting.
“Jane!” Charles Bingley exclaimed, hurrying over to his beloved. “I hope you are well today?”
“Very well, yes,” Jane replied, blushing rosily. Elizabeth, watching the couple in amusement, was convinced that if the pair were alone, there would have been some kissing involved in their greeting.
She turned her attention on Mr. Darcy, who was standing a few feet away from her, and her heart beat faster at the intensity in his dark gaze.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, curtseying, and then turned to the ladies sitting on the chairs around her. “Miss de Bourgh, Miss Darcy, Mrs. Jenkinson, Mrs. Annesley, good morning.”
“Good morning,” everyone chorused, and Anne de Bourgh said, “Miss Elizabeth, will you please sit down next to me? I am well aware that we spoke very little when you were visiting the Collinses in Kent, but now that my cousin has expressed his interest in you, I am filled with curiosity.”
Elizabeth obediently took a seat on the loveseat alongside the heiress of Rosings and said, “I do not think that I was quite myself at Rosings, so I fear you did not miss much.”
“That is not what Darcy told me,” Anne said cheekily, which caused Elizabeth to turn a startled look on the lady beside her. Miss de Bourgh had always seemed like a cipher – quiet, pale, and dull. Now, there was a surprising spark in her eyes.
“I was never quite myself at Rosings either,” Anne remarked in response to Elizabeth’s inquiring gaze. “My mother is a despot, and she is as overbearing with me as she is with everyone else. I am truly amazed at how much better I feel here at Netherfield Hall, surrounded by kind friends, and without the exhausting pomp that my mother always insists on.”
“Lady Catherine has been of infinite use in bringing you here to Hertfordshire, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use,” Elizabeth replied, which provoked genuine laughter from Miss de Bourgh.
“Now this is why I hope that you and Darcy make a match of it,” Anne said once she had recovered her equanimity, “and why he and I would be such a poor match. My cousin and I are both quiet people, and you bring life and energy wherever you go.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm, and she said, “Thank you, though there are times, perhaps, when I do not take life seriously enough.”
“But is that not the ideal in a marriage, that husband and wife complement one another? Now I do not intend to pester you to marry Darcy, Miss Elizabeth, but if there is anything you wish to know about your prospective bridegroom, I hope you will ask it.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, who was gazing at her solemnly from a few feet away, and then turned back and said, “Perhaps you could tell me about your family, including the Matlocks and the Darcys. I confess to interest in all the disparate personalities. Lady Catherine is ... very confident of herself. But then there are you, and Mr. and Miss Darcy, as well as Colonel Fitzwilliam, who has a different character than all of you. I would not lay aside a good marriage due to extended family, but I am curious about those connections I have not yet met.”
Anne nodded, glanced at Darcy, and instructed, “Cousin, do stop looming over us and sit down next to Miss Elizabeth.”
He did so obediently and happily, and Anne continued, “My father is dead, as you know. He was a quiet man, much like myself. As for my uncle, the earl, he is a sensible man, though...”
She trailed off and looked at Darcy, only to have Georgiana pipe up. “He is a pleasant enough man, but he has an air of authority which makes me, at least, a trifle nervous.”
“Like Lady Catherine?” Elizabeth inquired.
“No, not at all,” Darcy replied. “Lady Catherine speaks in an authoritative tone in an attempt to convince others of her own importance, whereas my uncle speaks gently, but he is heavily engaged in politics, and people listen to him.”
Elizabeth’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Is he indeed? What are Lord Matlock’s particular concerns as a politician?”
“The earl is more interested in domestic concerns,” Darcy explained, “particularly regarding agriculture, though he, by necessity, is forced to be well informed about the war with the Corsican tyrant.”
“Especially since our cousin Richard, his son, is a colonel in the Regulars,” Georgiana remarked.
“Was he recently ordered overseas as he expected?” Elizabeth asked and then, noting Miss Darcy’s puzzled gaze, explained, “I met Colonel Fitzwilliam while visiting Kent this spring.”
“Oh! I had forgotten that,” Miss Darcy said, and her brother clarified, “Richard is not on the Peninsula. He is currently stationed in Brighton and is drilling troops who will be shipping out shortly. For now, it seems, he will not be sent overseas, but his orders could change at any time.”
Elizabeth, noting the anxious looks on the faces of her companions, said, “That must be difficult for you.”
“It is,” Darcy agreed with a sigh. “Richard has always been more brother than cousin to me and Georgiana. We do worry when he is fighting on the continent, but of course we can do nothing but pray for him and his safety.”
“Which we do,” Georgiana said softly.
“And what of his elder brother, the viscount?” Elizabeth asked.
“Percival?” Georgiana replied and wrinkled her nose. “I feel as if I do not know him well at all, certainly far less well than Richard. He is rather quiet.”
“He is,” her brother agreed. “He is also an enthusiastic agriculturist. The Matlock estate of Green Hedges is located in Nottinghamshire, some fifty miles from Pemberley. Percival and I exchange letters on occasion about livestock and crops. He is intelligent but not outgoing, and he finds politics thoroughly dull.”
This provoked a wide-ranging conversation about Pemberley and nearby Green Hedges, and Elizabeth found herself impressed by Mr. Darcy’s obvious expertise regarding his estate and its people, the crops and the livestock.
Mr. Darcy, not yet thirty years of age, was obviously far more knowledgeable about overseeing an estate that her own father. It was impressive that this young man, forced to carry the mantle of ownership of Pemberley at a young age, was doing such a marvelous job.
***
Church in Meryton
15 th May, 1812
“Oh, Lizzy, I know I have already asked, but do I look well?” Jane inquired breathlessly, half-laughing, and let go her father’s arm momentarily to brush her hand down the unwrinkled blue skirt, the gauzy white overdress shimmering across it like clouds in a summer sky.
“You are quite the most beautiful bride Meryton has ever seen,” Elizabeth assured her, gently pressing an adventurous blossom back into the bouquet of yellow roses held delicately in Jane’s white-gloved hand.
“Indeed you are, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said, unusually solemn. “And you, Lizzy, are every bit as lovely.”
Elizabeth looked down at her own green bridesmaid’s gown and chuckled. “I would not wish to outshine the bride – if I even could!”
She then smiled affectionately at her sister. “You are truly stunning, Jane.”
Mr. Bennet turned to kiss his eldest child’s forehead. “And we are all so very pleased for you,” he said sincerely. He went through his life sardonic and laughing, endlessly amused by and derisive of his neighbors, seeing the absurdity in everything and everyone around him. But if Elizabeth was the cleverest of his daughters, Jane was unarguably the sweetest and kindest, and today he was giving her away – to a good and kind man, it was true, but it was no less a loss to the Bennets.
“Thank you,” Jane said to father and sister both, and smiled mistily. Mr. Bennet smiled back and adjusted his cravat, and the three of them once more faced the doors closed between the vestibule and the sanctuary.
They had not long to wait, as the music started after only a minute more. The doors swung wide, briefly showing the manservant who had opened them, and the bridal party stepped forward, proceeding at a stately pace up the aisle. The church was heady with the perfume of the bouquets decorating the chancel and altar, and ribbons tied into graceful bows fluttered on the ends of the pews. The church was not very full, but the Lucases were there, of course, and Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, Mrs. Annesley, and Mrs. Jenkinson all shared a pew, along with Mrs. Scofield, a cousin of Mr. Bingley’s who had been serving as hostess for the last week. On the other side of the aisle, the Bennet ladies were crammed together, sharing handkerchiefs, and Elizabeth hid a wry smile at her mother’s joyful sobbing.
The parson, Mr. Allen, beamed down at them as they arrived at the altar, and Elizabeth smiled back. Her attention was soon claimed away from the familiar words of the Wedding Ceremony by her counterpart, however. Darcy stood tall and solemn and handsome and attentive behind Bingley, for whom he was standing up. Elizabeth tried to call her wandering eyes and mind back to the service, but it was difficult.
It had now been a fortnight since Darcy’s declaration, and bewilderment had given way to acceptance and gratitude, and then to genuine admiration for the master of Pemberley. The more time she spent in company with her suitor, the more impressed she was. In this moment, listening to the words of the marriage ceremony which would unite Jane and Bingley, she realized that, yes, she wished to accept Mr. Darcy’s offer. It was true that Darcy had a tendency to be a trifle stiff in company, but his many good qualities outweighed that. Not only was he intelligent, widely read, and honorable, he was an attentive and tender elder brother to Miss Darcy, a dutiful cousin, a good friend to Bingley, a diligent and responsible landlord to the tenants dependent on Pemberley for their livelihoods, and a gentle, ardent suitor. He had won Elizabeth over on their walks and their visits in the Netherfield drawing room, and she rather thought she had come to love him.
Darcy glanced over briefly and caught Elizabeth’s eye. He gave her a smile that lit his whole face, which she had sometimes seen directed at her, and her heart swelled. She did not think she loved this man, she knew she did.
Now all that remained was to tell him.