Chapter 7 #2
“Then I find I cannot be cross with you.” His grip was firm. “Congratulations, Darcy. I mean that sincerely. We shall be brothers. I will be at the chapel tomorrow.”
From behind the door came another burst of laughter, all three sisters at once, and both men stood in the corridor listening before Bingley smiled and Darcy allowed himself to do the same.
When Darcy and Bingley returned to the drawing room, Colonel Fitzwilliam clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “I believe, Cousin, that this may be the finest thing you have ever done.”
“It is certainly the most complicated,” Lord Matlock observed dryly, his tone agreeable.
Lady Matlock came to stand beside Darcy and surprised him by taking his arm. “You did well,” she said while leaning against him. “Your mother would have approved.”
When Darcy could at last speak, he said, “Thank you, Aunt Helen.”
“Do not make a fuss about it.” She patted his arm once, briskly, and released it. “Now. I believe we should allow those girls some time together. Henderson, I think we shall have dessert here.”
It was nearly six o’clock before Elizabeth emerged from the sitting room, luminous with happiness. She came directly to Darcy, who waited in the corridor, and took both his hands in hers.
“Jane understands,” she said, her voice still unsteady. “She says—” Elizabeth stopped, pressed her lips together. “She could see how you observed me at Netherfield, even when you were pretending not to look. She was not surprised at all.”
“Your sister is very perceptive,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Mary told me that Mr. Collins has been most attentive since my departure. She made him wait until he understood the value he would be receiving with a successful proposal. He offered this morning, and she accepted.”
“That is our Mary. I am glad for her if this makes her happy.”
“I have no reason to question her since I now realize she has long known what she wanted.”
Darcy moved closer. “And what do you want, my lovely Elizabeth?”
“You. Only you.”
Passion flared, taking every ounce of effort for Darcy to contain himself. Tomorrow!
Elizabeth looked up at him with an awe that made his chest ache. “You planned all of this. You arranged it all so that I would not have to be married without them.”
“I could not give you your father’s blessing or your mother’s tears or the familiar rooms of Longbourn. But I could give you this.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled again. She rose on her toes and kissed him—briefly, with complete disregard for the fact that Henderson was very likely somewhere nearby.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “I am going to be insufferably happy.”
“I am counting on it.”
The seventeenth of December dawned cold and bright.
Darcy woke early, dressed carefully with Thornton’s steadfast assistance, and stood before the mirror. He appeared, he decided, more certain. More ready.
He crossed the square to Matlock House for the last time as a single man.
The house was already alive with activity.
Georgiana met him in the entrance hall, her eyes shining, and embraced him without a word.
Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared at the top of the stairs and gave him a nod of solemnity before ruining it with a grin.
Lord Matlock signaled that the summons Darcy requested had been sent.
Elizabeth woke on the morning of her wedding to see Jane sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her sleep with a look of such tender relief that Elizabeth felt tears prick at her eyes before she was fully awake.
“You are still here,” Elizabeth said. “I was afraid I had dreamt it.”
“I am still here.” Jane squeezed her hand.
Mary appeared from the adjoining room carrying Elizabeth’s new ivory silk gown with great care. “Annie has already pressed it. And you should see the roses. Lady Matlock sent to the hothouse first thing this morning.”
Annie arrived with hot water, and the three sisters fell into the leisurely routine of shared preparation, Jane arranging Elizabeth’s hair.
At the same time, Mary set out the accessories Lady Matlock had pressed upon Elizabeth over the previous weeks—pearl earrings, a delicate bracelet, and white gloves of the softest kid leather.
They were thus occupied when a knock at the chamber door interrupted them. Jane opened it, expecting Mrs. Morrison or perhaps Georgiana.
Instead, Mrs. Madeline Gardiner stood in the doorway, her eyes moving rapidly around the room until they found Elizabeth.
“Aunt Gardiner!” All three girls squealed, sounding insufferably like their mother. Elizabeth crossed the room in three steps. Her aunt met her halfway, embracing her until Elizabeth felt completely like herself again.
“My dear girl,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “You have given us the most dreadful fright.”
“I am so sorry, Aunt. I could not—there was no way—”
“Hush.” Mrs. Gardiner held her niece’s chin and examined her thoroughly. Whatever she found there satisfied her. “You look happy. Are you happy?”
“Incandescently,” Elizabeth said.
Her aunt released a steadying breath. “Then I forgive you.” She looked at the wedding gown, the roses, Jane and Mary already dressed in their best. “Lord Matlock sent Edward a most mysterious summons. We arrived with no idea why we had been called, and your Mr. Darcy explained everything. I am astonished. Your letter after the assembly said you hated him.”
“Oh, but I did, Aunt. However, I did not yet know him. Now that I do, there is not another man in the Kingdom who would capture my heart.”
A knock at the door produced Mr. Gardiner himself, who looked in briefly.
“I shall not intrude long,” he said. “I only came to tell you, my dear Lizzy, that Mr. Darcy has done me the honor of asking me to give you away.” His voice was strong, though his eyes glistened. “I am very grateful for the privilege.”
Elizabeth could not speak. She crossed to him and kissed his cheek, and he patted her hand once before withdrawing with the tactful brevity of a man who understood that this moment belonged to the women in the room.
Mrs. Gardiner sank into a chair. “Pemberley.”
Elizabeth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“I grew up in Lambton, Lizzy. Not five miles from Pemberley.” Her aunt smiled.
“I know that estate. The house, the grounds, the woods, and the stream. It is the most idyllic place in England. You will walk those paths every morning of your life and never tire of them. And the library, I understand, is extraordinary.”
“Two floors,” Elizabeth said. “Over a thousand volumes.”
“Only one thousand?” Mrs. Gardiner laughed.
“Possibly more.”
“Then you are lost. You will never leave.”
Elizabeth felt laughter rising, mingling with joy so complete it had no single name.
She returned to the mirror. Jane added the final roses to her hair.
Mary fastened the last button. When they stepped back, Elizabeth looked at the woman in the glass.
She was certain that this was where she was meant to be.
“Well,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Mr. Darcy is a very fortunate man.”
“I intend to make certain he knows it,” Elizabeth replied.
Jane took her hand. Mary took the other. And Elizabeth Bennet drew a calming breath and prepared to become the wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy.