Chapter 22
It was not long before the day that Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet were able to finally, blessedly marry.
Everyone who lived nearby attended the wedding at Meryton’s little church.
It is not as if teeming hordes of people were invited to the wedding itself, because that would be incredibly gauche.
But all the friends and neighbours were invited to the wedding breakfast, and it was not much of a challenge to figure out approximately when and exactly where the wedding would take place.
Still, Darcy and Elizabeth had eyes only for one another. His cousin Richard stood up with him, and Mary stood up with Elizabeth; her father walked her down the aisle, and his sister kissed his cheek as the two walked up the aisle, less than an hour later, to sign the register.
The wedding breakfast was pronounced un succès fou.
The food was varied, plentiful, and quite delicious.
The greenery was fresh and aromatic, and more than one hundred ribbon roses perked up the holly and evergreen boughs.
The cake was massive, three huge tiers, with plenty of good brandy taste and realistic-looking marzipan flowers and fruits decorating the bright-white icing.
The countess was quite impressed that the wife of a country squire could orchestrate such an enjoyable event, and the fact that she was not even raised as a gentlewoman made her success even more impressive.
Elizabeth considered it a very good thing that her mother was entirely cowed by hosting an earl and countess at the wedding breakfast. She acted almost as properly as Elizabeth would have wished.
Darcy was courteous in all his expressions of gratitude.
“Thank you for being here, Mr Long.” “Thank you for bringing such an excellent bottle of wine, Sir William.” “Thank you, Mother Bennet, for all of your hard work. I think that the people of Meryton and its environs will be praising your party for a very long time.”
Elizabeth had tears in her eyes as she said many of the goodbyes; she gave fervent hugs to her family, including the Gardiners, knowing it would be months before she saw them again.
She also gave grateful hugs to Aunt Helen and Uncle Henry, and their family, even though she would see them soon.
She knew that many people would not be so welcoming to a “country upstart,” and they had been entirely positive in every way.
She had an especially warm hug for Georgiana.
Still, despite all the love and affection she had for the people clustered about, eating and drinking and chatting, Elizabeth was looking forward to leaving with Darcy. With actually beginning her marriage and her married life.
Darcy did not complain one bit as they rolled away towards London, giving a few final waves to their guests.
“Elizabeth, are you well?”
She laughed. “You ask me that with some frequency, husband. I hope I do not consistently look ill.”
“You know that you do not. Not only have I told you several times that you look exceptionally beautiful, you do own a glass and have seen for yourself just how…entrancing you are.”
“Oh, dear, just as I forgot about that word, you have to remind me of it! It is too bad of you!”
“Well, I certainly have been entranced all day, dearest. Let us see if we can think of something we can do during our long ride.”
Three and a half hours later, the number of hairpins scattered over the carriage alone would hint that the newlyweds had, indeed, found something to do.
Elizabeth gazed up and up—and up!—at Darcy House. It was huge! And certainly Pemberley would be far larger still.
“I am to be mistress of this perfectly enormous house?”
“Yes, along with another town house in Edinburgh, three small estates, one medium sized estate, and Pemberley.”
“I…I believe that I have reconsidered my answer to your proposal, and I am now thoroughly humbled to say that I shall not marry you.”
“Oh, my dear, it is far, far too late now. My heartfelt apologies, but you must come inside.”
“Very well, sir, I will attempt to make the best of the situation!”
He kissed her—just a brief, chaste kiss—and whispered, “For luck.”
Her surprised laugh was the first thing the staff heard as the footmen threw open the double doors to Darcy House at the same time that the master opened the carriage door and stepped out.
He reached in and helped his laughing bride down.
He proudly escorted her up the stairs and into the hall, introducing her with the words, “I am the most fortunate man alive, and you will all soon realise that you, too, are very fortunate. I am honoured to introduce Mrs Darcy, and I ask that you do for her what you do for me.”
He went on to introduce the butler and the housekeeper to Elizabeth, and then he whisked her into the master and mistress suite right away. There stood Wilkins and Elizabeth’s new lady’s maid, Morgan. “Should we begin with the tubs, sir?” Wilkins asked.
“Just the one tub, in the master’s washroom, if you please.” Darcy looked over the bottles of wine and the array of food laid out in the little study that linked the master’s and the mistress’s rooms. “This will do very nicely, I think,” he said.
“Ring if you need anything else, sir” Wilkins said; he rang the bell himself, and a parade of footmen carrying steaming buckets of water appeared, walked swiftly to the washroom, and returned with empty buckets.
Surprisingly quickly, Wilkins announced the bath’s readiness and the location of the soaps, wash rags, and towels.
“Thank you. I think we can take it from here,” Darcy said.
“Very well, sir.” Wilkins left and closed the door with an audible click.
“Just the one bath, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth gave him a saucy smile. “How very selfish of you, sir.”
“Yes, I can be very, very selfish,” he responded while he carefully began to unpin her hair and unbutton her gown, kissing her neck, her ear, her back…
Elizabeth felt pampered for someone who had a selfish husband, and she revelled in his selfishness as he rubbed her feet, washed her body, combed fingers across her scalp and through her hair….
“Oh, Will, it is my turn to make you feel—” Elizabeth got no further with her plans to be a bit selfish, herself, because her selfish husband insisted on carefully drying her off, lifting her to the bed, and bringing her two goblets.
"Drinking chocolate, or sweet wine?” he asked. “Or perhaps some of each.”
After she made her choice and drank her fill, she chided him: “Oh, you selfish man.” For the rest of the evening and almost all night, he continued to prove to her, over and over again, just how selfish he could be.