Chapter 31 Married, At Last #2
He could not help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. It was an old custom, one he had witnessed since boyhood—coins cast for luck upon a marriage departure—and while he had never imagined himself taking part, he found the gesture unexpectedly fitting.
Beside him, Elizabeth turned towards him, laughter dancing in her eyes.
“It is a good thing you had no need of my dowry, small as it was, sir,” she teased.
“I do not believe I have ever seen so many coins so freely scattered. My neighbours will have yet another reason to speak of this day for years to come.”
Darcy could not help but laugh, the sound low and genuine. Her playfulness—so unstudied, so entirely her—never failed to disarm him. How easily she could pierce through his composure where others only met reserve.
“My dear Mrs Darcy,” he said at last, a grin tugging at his lips, “if not for our need to make an appearance at our wedding breakfast, I would kiss the impertinence right out of you. Do you ever speak seriously?”
Elizabeth tilted her head, feigning contemplation. “‘He who always prefaces his tale with laughter is poised between impertinence and folly,’” she recited with mock solemnity.
Darcy blinked, momentarily caught between surprise and admiration. “Lavater? A Swiss poet, if I recall correctly?” His brow lifted slightly. “I had known you were well educated, but I confess myself astonished to find your education quite so expansive.”
“I cannot say I would know that particular quote had Uncle Gardiner not felt it a necessary lesson,” Elizabeth replied, her smile softening as she spoke her uncle’s name.
Darcy regarded her in silence for a moment, struck anew by the blend of intelligence and warmth that made her wholly unlike anyone he had ever known.
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
“Then that is merely one more thing for which I am forever indebted to your uncle,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth’s expression softened at his words, her laughter fading.
“You owe him nothing, William,” she said quietly, her thumb brushing lightly against his gloved hand.
“Whatever lessons my uncle taught me would have meant little had you not chosen to see me as I am—and love me still. It is a lesson I have yet to learn completely, for I was very impertinent towards you when I did not yet know you well enough. I hope, in time, to prove that I have learnt to see more clearly now than I once did.”
Her words stole his breath. Darcy’s heart swelled with an emotion so fierce it startled him, and for a long moment, all he could do was look at her—his wife, radiant, beloved, impossibly dear.
He leant closer, his voice low and unsteady.
“Elizabeth… I do not think I could ever have done otherwise. Without your boldness—your courage to speak to me as you did at Netherfield—I might have gone on unchanged, blind to what I would have lost. Had I not been so soundly challenged, I might have returned to London and, in time, yielded to the expectations of others. I would have married without love, and lived without joy. Your boldness—your impertinence, as you call it—saved me from such a fate.”
Their gazes met—her eyes bright, his softened with wonder—and in that instant, the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels faded into nothing. He lifted his hand to her cheek, his touch reverent, and she turned slightly into his palm.
Darcy hesitated only a heartbeat before closing the distance between them. The kiss was tender and unhurried—a vow spoken without words, a promise sealed between two hearts newly joined.
When they parted, Elizabeth’s smile was luminous. “You see, my dear William,” she murmured, her voice a blend of laughter and love, “impertinence does have its rewards.”
Darcy’s quiet laugh mingled with hers as he rested his forehead against hers. “Then I hope you never lose it, my love,” he whispered.
Immediately after the wedding breakfast, it was universally believed that the Darcys had set off for London. Several carriages departed in that direction—including the Darcys’ own—and their vehicle was seen turning onto the London Road as expected. Yet it followed that route only for a short while.
In truth, at his master’s direction, Darcy’s coachman had discovered a narrow lane that branched from the main road and wound its way towards Netherfield, bypassing Meryton entirely.
It was a longer route, but far more private and allowed the couple to arrive back at the estate without garnering anyone’s notice.
Mrs Nicholls had been sworn to secrecy regarding their unexpected guests as had the few servants who had remained in the house.
Mr Bingley, in his good-natured generosity, had granted the greater part of his household a paid holiday during his absence, leaving only a handful of trusted staff behind.
Among them were Darcy’s valet and Elizabeth’s new maid along with the cook and two footmen—quite sufficient for a brief stay where they intended to see no one but each other.
As the carriage turned down the secluded lane, Elizabeth found herself reflecting on the morning’s events.
The wedding breakfast had been as cheerful and elegant as she could have wished.
Her mother, to everyone’s relief, had managed to create a most creditable celebration despite her constant complaints about the lack of time she had to plan.
The company had been lively and affectionate, the food abundant, and the laughter genuine.
It was not the grand affair Mrs Bennet would have preferred—one of which she might boast to every friend and neighbour—but rather a celebration perfectly suited to the bride and groom: intimate, joyful, and filled with those dearest to Elizabeth’s heart.
She had spoken with each guest, accepted their warm congratulations, and felt her father’s quiet pride when he raised his glass in her honour.
It had been, she thought, a morning she would always remember.
The carriage gave a gentle lurch as it turned from the London Road onto a narrower lane. Elizabeth recognised the countryside at once and smiled faintly to herself.
When the familiar facade of Netherfield came into view, her husband glanced down at her with quiet satisfaction. As the carriage drew to a halt, he stepped down and offered his hand, his eyes alight with that calm certainty she had already come to know so well.
“We shall have some days of peace and privacy before the world demands our attention,” he said softly. “There will be no business to pull me away, and I may devote all my time and attention to you. You, my dear wife, need not think of duties or expectations but may devote all your attention to me.”
Elizabeth laughed at his teasing reminder, feeling her cheeks warm despite herself. “You make it sound as though I might find such attention burdensome,” she said lightly. Still, the flutter in her chest betrayed her composure as she considered what his attentions might entail in this instance.
They stepped quickly inside—without any of the fanfare that would have greeted them at Darcy House or Pemberley—and the contrast was oddly comforting.
The air within was calm and still, carrying only the faint crackle of the low fires.
Shadows danced gently on the polished floors, and the quiet hum of domestic order made her feel, for the first time that day, that she could breathe.
Mrs Nicholls appeared with a warm smile and a curtsy. “Welcome, Mr and Mrs Darcy,” she said, her tone both respectful and pleased. “Everything is arranged exactly as you instructed, sir.”
Elizabeth returned the woman’s smile, touched by her kindness and the unspoken understanding that the housekeeper knew precisely what sort of privacy had been arranged.
After exchanging a few words of thanks, they made their way towards the staircase.
Darcy’s hand rested lightly at the small of her back, the simple gesture steadying her more than she cared to admit.
He led her to the suite he had chosen for them—two adjoining bedchambers with a comfortable sitting room between, the firelight casting a soft golden glow over everything.
“I will meet you here in an hour,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her temple before withdrawing. “I know you ate little at the wedding breakfast, and Mrs Nicholls assures me we shall have a proper meal. Dress comfortably.”
Elizabeth watched him go, a faint smile lingering on her lips. She could still feel the warmth of his lips against her skin. Her maid’s gentle knock soon drew her attention, and she allowed herself to be helped out of her gown.
To her surprise, the garments laid out were not for dinner, but for rest—one of her new nightgowns and a soft wrapper, a gift from her Aunt Gardiner.
For a moment she hesitated, glancing towards the connecting door.
A blush rose unbidden to her cheeks, a smile soon following.
Perhaps it was perfectly natural for a newly married couple to retire in the early afternoon, and perhaps, she would simply follow her new husband’s lead in this, just as her aunt had recommended.