Chapter 22
Darcy’s Study
Pemberley
A Fortnight previously
Elizabeth stared at the man she loved with wide eyes. “You hit Wickham and then threw him out into the street?”
Darcy lifted his right hand and looked at his knuckles. He had been wearing gloves when he punched his enemy repeatedly, but nonetheless, his knuckles were starting to darken from bruising.
“I did,” he confessed. “I was so enraged by his insults that I chose action, not words. Perhaps that was beneath me, but…”
“I do not think it is beneath you, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth interposed, her face flushed. “When I consider how horribly Wickham has treated you and Georgiana, well, I believe he needed a good beating. But…”
She trailed off, and Darcy said wryly, “I chased him away when it probably would have been better to summon a magistrate and imprison him for debt.”
“But if you had done that, he might have talked freely about Georgiana’s near disaster, and given that Lambton is so close to Pemberley, that would have been catastrophic,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, exactly,” Darcy agreed gloomily.
Silence fell for a minute, and then Elizabeth said carefully, “Lady Catherine cannot actually do anything to force you to marry your cousin, correct?”
“No, she cannot, but she can make a great deal of noise; she is quite good at that. She is an extremely domineering woman and is used to having everyone dance to her piping.”
“If Wickham goes to her, and she believes him, she may call on my father.”
“And you are not yet one and twenty,” Darcy agreed. “He would have the right, legally, to take you away from here.”
She shivered at this and looked out the window. The sky was clear, and the sun was nearing the horizon, and it was very beautiful, if cold. She did not want to leave, and yet…
“So we should marry,” Darcy said.
She turned a puzzled look. “But I am not of age.”
“Gretna Green is less than three hundred miles north of here. We could be there in four days if the weather holds.”
She stared at him in wonder. “Gretna Green? It would be a terribly scandalous, would it not?”
“Better that than face the possibility of losing you, my love,” Darcy said.
She gazed into his dark eyes and reached her hands out to take his. “You are certain you would not regret it?”
“I could never regret it so long as you are my wife.”
She smiled, nodded, and said, “Then let us elope to Scotland.”
***
Darcy’s carriage
Approaching Gretna Green
Noon
Five Days Later
11th February 1812
Elizabeth was caught somewhere between an overwhelming sense of surreality and delirious happiness.
She had, now and again while growing up, imagined her wedding, as little girls were wont to do.
She had thought of a dress, and a summer wedding, a church bedecked with flowers, and a strong and handsome and honorable husband who loved her.
She had never dreamed that she would elope.
Yet here she was, in her dear Fitzwilliam’s carriage, very nearly to Scotland and a wedding over the anvil.
He sat beside her on the squabs, a bulwark of strength and protection and love.
Across from them, Mrs. Annesley and Annette, Elizabeth’s assigned abigail, shared a workbasket, their needles clicking industriously.
Annette was casting on stitches to make a match for yesterday’s sock, while a green wool hat sprouted like an oversized mushroom from Mrs. Annesley’s needles.
The older woman looked up, catching Elizabeth’s eyes, and Elizabeth smiled across at the companion gratefully.
Upon hearing of the potential impending catastrophe and Darcy’s rather drastic plan to avert it, Mrs. Annesley had at once offered to come to lend the elopement a certain respectability.
Georgiana could be left safely in Mrs. Gregson’s fond and capable hands long enough for the party to travel to Scotland and back, and with Mrs. Annesley along, there was no question of any compromise before the marriage itself.
She had brushed off concerns about her age and the bitter cold; she was not yet forty-and-five, she was an excellent traveler, and she was not bothered by a bit of winter weather, especially for such an agreeable reason.
Mrs. Annesley was a gem. She was of a kindly disposition, and had been a cheerful companion on the five-day journey from Derbyshire to Scotland.
Nor was it burdensome to share a bedroom with her.
She was an interesting conversationalist; she had no objection to a candle being lit still after she was in bed, and she did not snore.
Her willingness to share a bedchamber with Elizabeth each night kept the arrangement honorable, and Elizabeth was grateful.
Mrs. Annesley returned Elizabeth's smile and looked back down at her knitting, and Elizabeth watched out the window.
The scenery they had passed as they traversed England towards the border had been incredibly lovely, if often wild.
Hills had rolled higher and higher until they had given way to mountains, with quaint and charming towns tucked into hamlets and dales.
They had traveled from dawn to dusk most days, and the sun had smiled on them four days out of the five, though a snowstorm had blown up on Saturday afternoon and forced them to stop early at the next inn that served the Quality.
Sunday had been rest for man and beast, while Darcy and Elizabeth and Mrs. Annesley had attended the service at a local church.
Monday had dawned clear and bright and frosty, the roads packed hard and ready to travel once more.
The footmen, brought along in case of footpads or a broken axle or some other catastrophe, had loaded up the two carriages with all the valises and trunks and bandboxes that were incumbent to any gentleman and lady traveling in style, and the party had set off.
They had made good time, the servants' carriage trundling along behind, bearing all the baggage that would not fit in the main carriage, as well as Darcy's valet, Percy, and the footmen.
Truly, it had been an extremely agreeable journey.
Neither Mr. Bennet nor Mrs. Bennet was much inclined to wander far from their provincial little town and the comforts of Longbourn, saving the occasional trip into London.
Mr. Gardiner and his wife would sometimes take one or the other or both of their eldest nieces with them when they went traveling, but while Mr. Gardiner was quite genteel, he was still merely a merchant and did not command the respect and eagerness to please that was invariably rendered to a high-ranking gentleman such as Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth's only other real metric of travel comparison was her short trip in the stagecoach, which had been so lacking in enjoyment as to serve as a sharp contrast to the luxury in which she now traveled.
Not being of a vulgar turn of mind, Elizabeth had given little thought to the blessings inherent in an income of ten thousand pounds a year, but it had been on casual display at every stop.
Mr. Darcy had liberally tipped ostlers, stable boys, innkeepers, and maids, ensuring excellent service and making himself a firm favorite everywhere they halted.
Now they sped along their way, very nearly to their destination, and Elizabeth found herself shivering with sheer excitement. Within a few hours, she would be a married woman, wedded to a man far kinder and more generous and intelligent than she had ever even imagined.
Strong fingers grasped her right hand, and she turned to look at Darcy, who was gazing at her lovingly.
“Are you ready?” he asked huskily.
She nodded, tears of joy in her eyes. “I can hardly wait.”
***
Blacksmith’s Shop
Gretna Green
Two Hours after Noon
Elizabeth stepped into the blacksmith’s shop on Darcy’s arm and looked around curiously.
The brick walls shone with a recent coat of whitewash, the flagstones of the floor scrubbed cleaner than she was used to seeing in a smithy.
A well-worn anvil sat atop a solid oak stump in the middle of the floor, while along the edge of the room sat a number of wooden chairs with high arched backs.
The entire room was oddly quiet and empty
“Good day,” a booming voice said from their left, and they turned toward an open door which led farther into the interior of the house.
The man, dressed in sturdy breeches and a gray shirt, was tall and rotund, with the florid nose of the inveterate drinker and a powerful frame that spoke of great strength. He seemed a cheerful soul, and his eyes twinkled merrily as he regarded them.
“Good day,” Darcy said. “I am Mr. Darcy, and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. We wish to be married.”
The man nodded and smiled. “Then you have come to the right place. I am Mr. Paisley, the anvil priest, and I would be pleased to marry you at once. Do you require me to find witnesses for the marriage?”
Darcy shook his head and gestured toward Mrs. Annesley and Mr. Percy, who had entered the room behind them. “Thank you, no. I brought my own.”
“Excellent. Sir, please stand on that side of the anvil. Madame, please stand on the other.”
The pair obediently took their places, and Mr. Paisley instructed, “Reach out your right hands and clasp them.”
Elizabeth did so, blushing and trembling with excitement, and smiled as her beloved took her hand in his own firm grip.
“Mr. Darcy, are you old enough to marry?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Bennet, are you old enough to marry?”
“I am.”
“Mr. Darcy, do you wish to marry this woman?”
“I do.”
“Miss Bennet, do you wish to marry this man?”
“I do.”
“Then I pronounce you man and wife,” Mr. Paisley said and struck the anvil loudly with his hammer, causing a pleasing ringing noise.
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of the hammer striking the anvil and then happily chuckled and turned a disbelieving look on the blacksmith. “Are we truly married? There is nothing more?”
“There is nothing more,” Mr. Paisley said with a grin. “And you should be thankful, Mrs. Darcy, as it means that if you have an irritable relation pursuing you, he is now too late to stop you.”
Elizabeth laughed, and a moment later, Darcy laughed with her.
“True enough, Mr. Paisley, thank you,” she said, looking over to Mrs. Annesley and Mr. Percy, who were standing by the door as legal witnesses. The older lady had tears of joy in her eyes, and even Mr. Percy, a phlegmatic man, looked pleased for his master.
Darcy released her hand reluctantly and paid the blacksmith generously, and then the pair and their dependents made their way out of the smithy and onto the cobblestone street.
The sky was overcast, a few snowflakes whirled in the breeze, and it was very cold, but Elizabeth had never, in her entire life, been so deliriously happy.
The two Darcy carriages were waiting in front of the blacksmith’s shop, and Elizabeth and Mrs. Annesley entered the front one, while Mr. Darcy exchanged a few words with his valet before the man made his way to the second carriage.
“We will find an inn for the night,” Darcy said as he climbed into the carriage and took his seat next to his new bride. “The weather looks a trifle doubtful, and of course I wish to spend time with you, my darling.”
Elizabeth blushed furiously at these words and said, “I would like that very much, Fitzwilliam.”