Chapter 22 #4
“Come now, Bingley—there are too many words and we have had too many glasses of brandy. You are not an idiot; you are only preoccupied with this matter. It will pass soon enough. As for your concern—let me assure you everything will be well. There is nothing to fear. You said it could not be the same as with any other woman. I will tell you: it is the same but completely different. It is more—much more. Have you not held Miss Bennet’s hand?
Have you not kissed her? No, no, don’t answer me!
Just think of that. I am certain you have experienced all these before with other women, and you surely noticed the holding of the hand or the kissing were the same… but not really the same.”
Bingley stared at him with his eyes wide open. “Damn, you are such a clever man, Colonel. You said so little yet I finally understand everything.”
“I am not clever, Bingley. It must be the result of those five glasses of brandy you just drank.”
Bingley started to laugh so loudly that the colonel startled. “You should go to bed, Bingley.”
“Yes, I should,” he admitted without moving.
“You may consider me a complete fool, Colonel, but I cannot help wondering. I hope she will be happy with me—that she will enjoy our marriage. I want everything to be perfect for her, but I already disappointed her last autumn. What if I disappoint her again. I failed so miserably to understand her feelings last year. Will I be able to recognise whether she truly enjoys being with me or only tolerates me because it is her duty to do so?”
“Bingley, from what I have seen, I doubt Miss Bennet is merely tolerating you. Indeed, she is a proper young lady—so no wonder she is restrained. But she seems to enjoy your company quite a lot.”
“She does, does she not? I confess there were times when I felt that she would allow me to—
“Bingley, let us stop this confession before the brandy makes you say things you will come to regret tomorrow. You must have faith in yourself. The mere fact that you are so concerned for Miss Bennet proves the depth of your affection for her. You want advice for your wedding night? Here it is: show her your affection and your care; be patient and considerate, and do not forget you said you want everything to be perfect for her.”
“She is an angel,” Bingley said dreamily, and the colonel patted him on his shoulder.
“Then, here is further advice—stop thinking about Miss Bennet as an angel; she is an exceptionally beautiful lady, but she is still a woman, not an angel, and I dare say that is most fortunate. Angels are not to be touched, and you surely would like to touch your wife. An angel is something for your fantasies. A real, beautiful woman who shares your affection and becomes your wife—that is something to experience every day for many years.”
Bingley was staring at his companion wordlessly, dizzy from fatigue and the effects of the brandy, yet his mind was working frantically, considering everything he heard.
“You are a clever man, Colonel,” he repeated.
“I know, I know—sometimes I astonish myself with my own cleverness, Bingley. Now let me take you to your room—and for God’s sake, do not drink on your wedding night, or you will not be able to perform as well as you would wish.”
Bingley stepped toward the door, but the last words turned him back to the colonel. “Thank you for telling me that, Colonel! Now I will have another reason to worry! How very considerate of you!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam could not control the burst of laughter any longer. Certainly that was the most diverting conversation he had had in quite a long time.
∞∞∞
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs Bennet divested herself of her two most deserving daughters.
It may be guessed with what delighted pride she watched them stand up in church next to their wealthy grooms, surrounded by illustrious guests and all twenty-four families from Meryton.
Even Lady Cassandra was present with Colonel Fitzwilliam—what a handsome, amiable man!
He took the trouble to carry her ladyship in his arms from the carriage into the church in order that she not miss the grand event.
The wedding breakfast was everything for which Mrs Bennet had hoped. Lady Fitzwilliam praised the elegant arrangements and the choice of the dishes, and Lady Cassandra said she had not enjoyed herself so much in years.
Mrs Bennet was utterly happy—and she did not worry about her nerves a single moment.
In a corner of the Netherfield ballroom, the newlywed couples were speaking to each other.
“I shall miss you, Lizzy; I shall write you every day,” said a tearful Jane.
“I hope you will not have time to write me, dearest Jane. I shall miss you, too. But it is less than two months until we meet again at Pemberley for Christmas. Take care of yourself and your husband until then.”
“I will do my best, Lizzy,” Jane whispered as she cast a quick glance at her husband, who was engaged in a close conversation with Mr Darcy.
“You surely do not have to leave so soon, Darcy; you are more than welcome to stay here…for tonight, I mean. Both Jane and I are delighted to have you and all our families as guests—
“Bingley! You have finally married the woman you have loved for so long. I truly hope you will find delight in no one else’s presence except that of your wife and will not welcome any guests into your home for at least a month! Stop being so kind and polite—it is time for you to be selfish.”
Bingley smiled uncomfortably, and then he looked at his wife and met her timid glance.
“I cannot send people away,” he replied with a low voice.
“Now you cannot,” admitted Darcy, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “Fortunately they will leave—eventually. My uncle and aunt, together with Cassandra, Georgiana and David will depart for London shortly, so they will not give you much trouble.”
“Trust me, Darcy; they never gave me any trouble.”
“Yes, I believe that. Your troubles lie elsewhere,” Darcy said, with a meaningful glance toward the Hursts and the Bennets. “My advice would be to ask for Mr Bennet’s help in the matter.”
“I will—I certainly will. And you know, Caroline is determined to leave for a long tour around the country, and Louisa said they will return to London—
“Yes, I have heard that. And Bingley—you will always be welcome at Pemberley, you know that.”
“We shall come for Christmas.”
“You may come sooner if you want. I can offer you and Mrs Bingley the entire east wing, and I promise you—nobody will disturb you there.”
“I shall take your offer into consideration, Darcy.”
An hour later, after all the guests said their goodbyes to the Darcys, he handed his wife into the carriage and then closed and locked its door.
Inside the carriage, Elizabeth forced herself to smile while fighting the overwhelming emotion of departing Netherfield, their friends and families. As her trembling hands pressed together and her shimmering eyes locked on her husband’s, Elizabeth managed a barely audible whisper.
“Finally we come to the end of this.”
“No indeed, my love; it is not the end but the beginning. I am taking you home, Mrs Darcy!”