Chapter 15 Jitters #2
As Jane set about doing her hair, which was a particular skill for the eldest, Elizabeth wondered about why she thought that plainness was the right signal for the day.
Perhaps, she wanted to enter her marriage without overt pretensions.
She had to, somehow, convince her husband that she had nothing to do with the compromise, and that she was not flirting with him for six weeks.
She thought that if they did not at least start out from a position of honesty and apology, beginning that very day, they were doomed to be at each other’s throats throughout all eternity.
It just seemed that wearing a gown that was noticeably better than anything she had ever owned before would seem more like gloating than anything else.
Mary and Kitty joined, and in another life, it might well have been a merry party. In this life, it was sombre but at least moderately cordial.
Mrs Bennet tried to enter the room an hour later to be certain that all was as it should be, but Elizabeth would not even allow her entrance, so she went away in a huff, grumbling about ungrateful daughters with insufficient trousseaus, while yelling for poor beleaguered Hill to bring her salts.
As Darcy’s trio were putting on their wraps for the trip to the church, the Netherfield butler handed him a note. “This just arrived by express, sir.”
Darcy had been fretting for the previous hour about the upcoming ordeal as his valet made him presentable.
He was tempted to try to not look his best for his wedding, but frankly had no idea how to go about it.
Instead, he asked his valet to pick something at random and prepare him as usual for an ordinary day of calling.
The headache that had been his constant companion most of the morning was threatening to get worse before it got better, and he also thought the prospect of marriage was turning him into a sniveler, since he had progressed to feeling more than a little feverish.
Taking the note in hand, he reflexively replied, “Thank you, Dawson. Let us feed him and I will see if I have a return.”
“Very good, sir.”
Darcy looked at the note with a sinking feeling and tore the seal open.
23 December 1811
Matlock House, London
Darcy,
Malcolm has taken a turn for the worse and is not expected to live more than another two or three months.
I have isolated him and will try to keep his eventual passing quiet as long as possible in the hope that you can get Richard out before the French know he is heir apparent.
I do not know if it would change the negotiations, but it seems likely it would make him more valuable.
I suggest you try to settle things with your bride before you go. I will visit her in a few months to ensure she is well settled.
Matlock
With a sigh, he asked his valet to put the note among his things and send the express rider back with acknowledgement, but in no hurry. His headache pounding, he donned hat and gloves, then walked out to join his cousins in the carriage.
In a bout of delayed and underwhelming generosity, Bennet hired a carriage to take his wife and other daughters separately from the bride.
He liked to believe it was his liberality of spirit protecting his first daughter to be married without having to listen to endless commentary on her appearance and what she should do with her new husband.
He discounted the idea that it was related to Elizabeth’s threat to walk to the church alone if she had to share a conveyance with her mother.
He could have sent his carriage ahead and had it return for the bride but judged that minimising the time his family was exposed to his soon to be son-in-law would be for the best. They were to follow a mere ten minutes after the departure of the rest of the family.
The groom had refused the offer of a wedding breakfast, planning to leave straight from the church.
Bennet had received a note from Netherfield the previous afternoon verifying that the groom was in attendance, and his wife’s gossip verified he was there with the long-lamented Mr Bingley, who, if rumours were true, had already secured another bride.
The long run of lamentations that went with that news went on well into the night, and half the morning, but Elizabeth did not take part in the discussions at all, primarily because she stayed in her room and prohibited entry from anyone, but also because she could care less about Mr Bingley.
When Elizabeth walked down the stairs, he said, “Miss Bennet, that dress makes a bold statement, though I confess, I do not understand what said bold statement actually is.”
Elizabeth stared at him, wondering if he was trying to have an intelligent conversation, or tease her. After the past few weeks of animosity, she really believed she could not tell any more, nor did she care very much.
She at last replied, “The statement is ‘I am what I am.’ I do not present myself as any better or worse than an ordinary daughter of an ordinary squire. I will not dress myself up enough to pretend to be more than I am, nor will I wear sackcloth to imply that I am less.”
Bennet, for once in his life thought about it a minute.
“That is probably wise. You will have to find a way to get along with your husband and putting on pretensions and airs seems like the wrong approach. He probably knows you about as well as I knew your mother before our wedding. I would hope, for your sake, that the two of you can come to a better understanding than we did.”
“I am sceptical, but I will do my best. As I said, he needs to help a little, but a very little will do.”
Bennet just nodded and gestured to the door so they could get on with it.