Chapter 35 Pemberley At Last
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
PEMBERLEY AT LAST
Mrs Bennet might have complained—rather loudly—about being expected to prepare a wedding breakfast within a fortnight, but even Elizabeth had to admit that her mother had outdone herself.
The tables groaned under the weight of the various offerings of food, and every neighbour in the county seemed to have found reason to attend.
The Hursts were unable to be present; Bingley had shared with the Bennets his sister’s letter announcing her news that she was expecting a child.
Elizabeth was sincerely pleased for the couple—and privately even more so to learn that Miss Bingley had been forbidden from attending the wedding.
Bingley had written to his sister himself, making it clear that her presence was neither wanted nor welcome and that he would not be sending a carriage to fetch her from her home in York.
Her reply, when it came, had been nothing short of scathing.
She railed against his “ingratitude” and “folly,” accused Jane of scheming to entrap him, and concluded by declaring that he would live to regret the match.
Bingley had shown the letter to Jane, Darcy, and Elizabeth with an expression of equal parts injury and relief, insisting that he had wished to make his feelings plain once and for all.
“That is that,” he said, with little fanfare. If he looked a little injured, no one commented on it, but it had been clear for some time that Miss Bingley cared about no one except for herself.
Elizabeth had been both shocked and impressed—shocked at Miss Bingley’s unrestrained bitterness in the letter, and impressed by Mr Bingley’s calm in the face of it.
After retrieving the letter from Darcy, he read the letter through once more, folded it neatly, and consigned it to the fire without another word.
In that moment, Elizabeth thought, Mr Bingley had proved himself far more his own man than ever before.
The wedding itself was cheerful and well attended, drawing both their Hertfordshire friends and several of Bingley’s London acquaintances.
To her mother’s particular delight, Elizabeth had hosted a dinner and small dance at Netherfield a few evenings before the ceremony.
It had been a lively affair, and to everyone’s surprise—Mrs Bennet’s most of all—it was Mary, not Lydia, who was never without a partner once the dancing began.
When the wedding breakfast at last came to an end, Elizabeth felt a mingling of joy at seeing her sister so well settled and gentle sorrow when she considered how far apart they would now be.
Jane was radiant, Bingley beamed with unrestrained pride, and even their mother’s tears were, for once, born of satisfaction rather than anxiety.
Soon after the farewells were said, the Darcys—accompanied by Georgiana and Mary, along with Mrs Annesley and their servants—began their journey north to Pemberley.
As the carriage rolled away from Netherfield, Elizabeth turned to look back through the window.
The house stood bright against the morning sun, full of happy memories and new beginnings.
How much had changed since she first stayed there—when she had believed Mr Darcy a proud, disagreeable, and utterly insufferable man.
A small smile touched her lips at the thought.
Now that same man sat beside her, her husband, and she knew with certainty that she had once been the most mistaken creature in the world—and the most fortunate to have been proven wrong.
Their party travelling north was a large one, consisting of three carriages and a wagon for their trunks.
A fair number of outriders accompanied them, and Darcy had written ahead to each inn along their route to secure rooms for the entire company.
They set out in the early afternoon following the wedding, choosing to travel at a leisurely pace.
The journey would take four days in all, giving Elizabeth and the rest ample time to enjoy the changing countryside as they drew nearer to her new home.
It was early afternoon on the fourth day when the carriage carrying Darcy and Elizabeth left the rest of the party behind, travelling at a quicker pace and leaving most of the outriders with the other carriages.
That morning, Darcy had told her he wished her first sight of Pemberley to be theirs alone.
As they entered the park, he spoke to her in low tones of the estate, pointing out its features as they passed, and some twenty minutes later the carriage came to a gentle halt upon a rise.
He stepped down first, then turned back and, without permitting her to descend alone, reached up and lifted her from the carriage, his hands lingering for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
“Come, my love,” he said quietly, setting her upon the ground but keeping his arm around her as he led her to a break in the trees.
Elizabeth’s first glimpse of Pemberley was more than she could have dreamed.
There was a painting of the estate in the study of their London home, but it had not done justice to the scene before her.
The house rose gracefully from among wooded hills, its stone glowing warmly in the afternoon light, the river winding through the valley below.
“Oh, William,” she breathed, her eyes bright with wonder. “I never imagined a place could feel so alive and so well formed at once. Everywhere one looks, nature seems allowed to be herself, without anyone attempting to improve upon her—and I find it entirely irresistible.”
Darcy’s delight was unmistakable. He moved behind her, drawing her gently into his arms as they gazed out over the view together.
“Of all this, you are mistress, my love,” he said softly.
“I look forward to working beside you, to improving the lives of our tenants, and to raising our children to respect both the land and the people who depend upon it. Unlike my parents, we shall teach them that true worth lies not in wealth or connexions, but in character. I am profoundly thankful that what began in friendship has grown into so much more.” He paused to press a light kiss to her neck as he considered the last few months.
“Had you not spoken sense at Netherfield—had you not challenged me to consider what I truly wished for in a marriage for both Georgiana and myself—I would have left Hertfordshire in agony, forcing myself into the kind of life my parents lived. Whoever I married would have been unhappy, and I no less so. But instead, you were frank with me. Through that frankness, we forged a friendship… a friendship that swiftly became love. Now I cannot imagine bringing anyone but you home as Pemberley’s mistress. ”
Elizabeth turned in his arms, her hands rising to rest upon his shoulders.
While she knew the coachman and outriders might see them, she did not care.
“I love you, William,” she whispered, smiling through her tears.
“I am delighted that you have brought me here—and that, together, we shall build our life in this beautiful place.”
With that, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
Momentarily stunned by her boldness, Darcy did not react at once, but after a heartbeat, instinct overcame surprise.
His arms tightened around her waist, drawing her nearer as he lifted her just enough to align their bodies, returning her kiss with all the warmth he felt.
Any thought of servants or propriety vanished.
There was only Elizabeth—his wife, his dearest blessing—held close in his embrace.
Never had he been so grateful to stand upon the grounds of his estate. No longer was he alone; no longer must he bear the burdens of so great a responsibility without someone to support him. He had a partner now, a true companion who would walk beside him through every duty and every trial.
He had not only a wife to cherish, but a friend to trust—one whose presence made Pemberley, at last, feel entirely like home.
~~The End~~