Chapter 47
E lizabeth and I married in the simple setting of the church in Meryton.
My mother-in-law was overjoyed with me, excepting only the matter of my bride gift, which was a necklace of common peridot.
Elizabeth could not stifle her shout of laughter when presented with this gift, but Mrs Bennet, not privy to the joke, was affronted I had not given her daughter the diamonds she deserved.
Aside from this blunder on my part, we had her tearful blessing, and Mr Bennet even shook my hand.
We endured the good-natured harassment and occasional vulgarities of country society, and as soon as we reasonably could, we went north to Derbyshire.
We lived in a time of great conformity, when aberrations from the norm were best rejected.
I had personally had to fight through my own upbringing in order even to entertain the possibility of bringing such an original to Pemberley to serve as mistress.
I was prepared to defend her, but she was met with a surprising degree of openness, so much so, I soon began to speculate that Carsten had done a great deal to prepare the sceptics below stairs.
By this time, my valet and I had been through so much more than was usual and customary in our association that he was as much my seneschal as he was my personal attendant. And one day, as we stood face-to-face for the ritual of a perfect knot in my neckcloth, I chose to ask him directly.
“By chance, Carsten, did you speak glowingly below stairs of Mrs Darcy?”
“I have certainly never had any occasion to speak ill of her, sir.”
“She seems a great favourite with the maids already.”
He studied my face as if gauging the depth of my curiosity before he answered my question. “Mrs Darcy has certainly made you happy, which is the only recommendation she needs.”
“Lord, Carsten. Even I am aware that in the case of certain ladies, the servants can palpably withhold respect while obeying orders to the letter.”
“Mrs Darcy will never be treated like one of those ladies, sir,” he said while brushing my coat one last time.
“That is just as well because I have something in mind for her that might stretch the boundaries of their forbearance, and I need you to assist me.” I spoke to him for nearly twenty minutes, and assured of his comprehension, I gave him both the latitude and resources required.
Having thus pleased myself so much it was a struggle not to grin like a fool for the rest of the day, I went in search of Elizabeth.
She was seated at my mother’s escritoire in one of the little parlours set aside for her exclusive use.
“Ah, here you are,” she said archly. “For some reason, I half-expected you to ride off on estate business today so that I can ponder this week’s menus and double-count the silver.”
“If you could somehow master the mischief so clearly writ on your face when you are being satirical, you would better remind me of your father,” I said. “Are you bored of Pemberley so soon, love?”
“No, but I confess I do not now know what to do with myself. As much as I railed against how you prolonged our courtship, I am beginning to think you might have been right—that was the best part of love.”
“I see I must prove to you how wrong I was,” I said dangerously, shutting the door with a decisive snap. Without preamble, I brushed aside her menus and initiated her into the particular delights to be had on an escritoire.
As I too relinquished the rhythm of the chase, I discovered the power of letting every page in my life turn when it chose to do so, for the consummation of my quest had led to so many more equally delightful conquests.
My bride, I discovered, dearly loved to play, and there were several regrettable shocks suffered by my servants when I chased her through the gallery as she ran laughing for cover behind the ancient clock at the end of the hall, or bellowed after her as she flew headlong down the backstairs.
We were sadly forgetful of locking the doors, and word had spread quickly to knock twice, and loudly , before entering the library—or my study, any one of our unused guest rooms, or even more scandalously, the music room.
Thankfully, Georgiana had stayed behind in London, and she intended to continue to live in town for the coming Season. Perhaps to lessen the bittersweet loss of her friend while also joyfully gaining a sister, she kept Jane with her for consolation, and they, too, grew close.
With regard to Jane, Fitzwilliam had arrived in Hertfordshire to stand up with me, and in seeing the lady’s face again, it seemed to me his pride fell at her feet.
Bingley had kindly opened his house for us, though he was busy in town preparing for his own more lavish nuptials, and several nights before the wedding, my cousin and I found ourselves at the local tavern with Carsten, Keller, and Donaldson.
Emulating an altogether different night spent at such a lowly establishment, I set down a fat purse, and half of Meryton came to drink toasts to me and my bride-to-be.
Later, Fitzwilliam had come to my room, and having had enough libation to actually fall off his horse if Keller had not driven us home, he ended the night confessing a great deal more than I expected he ever would.
“I have hopes we may yet be brothers in more than spirit, Darcy,” he said.
“You risk a break with your family.”
“That is rich, coming from you. You have broken with everyone.”
“Lady Matlock will snub your bride, you know.”
“I am prepared. I have been forced over the years to look over one hundred ladies, and in only one did I find a woman I knew beyond all doubt would be kind to my children. You cannot know how many times I thought of her from the moment we were introduced.”
“Thinking of her and marrying her are two different things.”
“Says the man who will be fitted with a leash tomorrow.”
I smiled, but fortunately my face was in the shadows, and he did not have occasion to bristle at my amusement. Eventually, I spoke again, intent upon clearing the air between us once and for all.
“I do not mean to deter you so much as prepare you.”
“You forget, I thought Wickham had killed me. In those hours of mortal uncertainty, Jane Bennet came to mind and has never left. You might say, she was my last wish and my only regret.”
“In that case, move swiftly, and do not look back.”
Thus, Fitzwilliam began to pursue Jane in earnest as evidenced by the regular letters we received from Georgiana, such as the one we received one rainy morning in March.
Dearest Elizabeth,
Fitzwilliam has been to visit again. This is the third time this week by my count, and I confess to a tinge of exasperation, so much so, that I am afraid I might have bullied him a little.
Over tea, I asked him if any of his peers in the upper ranks of the regiment were married, and if so, where they housed their families.
To this, he offered a vague reply while shifting in his seat, eventually explaining with unbecoming sheepishness that some were better situated than others.
I had no choice then but to bluntly enquire as to those who did not have the benefit of a large inheritance.
He looked ready to strangulate me by this point, but Jane was attending with such apparent interest, he was forced to reply that a few had taken apartments near the regimental headquarters, and others had wives and children living with their relatives in the country.
Jane, with blushing modesty, then said that she had always imagined what a cosy apartment in London might be like, never having seen one, and she shyly met his eyes to further confess that she thought such a situation might be more comfortable than a large estate with an army of servants to manage.
At last, we were making progress! And so I left the room on pretence of having a sudden tickle in my throat, and Mrs Annesley wisely came to my aid.
However, when we came downstairs after ten minutes, we were forced to stop on the landing, for we overheard Fitzwilliam saying that there were several of his contemporaries who could not even afford to keep a carriage.
You may well imagine how close I came to marching into the room to put an end to his attempt to dissuade her.
Mrs Annesley restrained me with a gentle touch to the arm, however, and then Jane said—almost below our hearing—that no one who lived in London needed a carriage, for a hackney could be had at any hour of any day, even on Christmas Day.
God bless her, Jane has more patience than I, and though I wanted to stay to hear the conclusion of this conversation, I went up to my room for half an hour.
“Your cousin is as dense as you are, it seems,” Elizabeth said sweetly.
“Might you at least try to sheath your claws at breakfast, madam?” I said with an aggrieved sniff. “At least I did not try to dissuade you.”
“If you had, what would you have said? ‘I am very rich, my love, and I am afraid you will hate living in the paradise of my estate?’ You are very droll this morning.”
“Though I am aware that such tender observations are vastly pleasurable to you, I feel it only right to warn you that you may regret your words come the first hint of summer.”
This taunt intrigued her, and in the ensuing weeks, she tried hard to wheedle out of me what I meant by it. Her efforts were entertaining, but I calmly withstood them. And then, it seemed she forgot the matter altogether.
Not only had Fitzwilliam come to the point with her sister, he had both quickly and quietly married her in Hertfordshire.
Rather than awaiting our arrival from Derbyshire—and risk his mother’s intervention should she get wind of what he was about—the couple had promised us a lengthy visit to Pemberley during the Festive Season.
Georgiana had written pages and pages describing every detail, and knowing the couple did not wish for delay, fanfare, or expense, we were forced to be satisfied.
To add to the distraction of this stirring event taking place without us, I also bought Elizabeth a rough-coated chestnut mare and began to teach her to ride.
She was unsure of herself at first, but Bramble was not a temperamental animal, and I had no doubt my wife would master riding in very little time, for she was too physical in nature and far too enamoured of movement to dislike the freedom it gave her.
We rode every day unless the weather was truly unbearable, and for these jaunts, I chose my faithful roan, Stella, who was strong-boned, farm-bred, and impressively capable of long days of riding.
She was also a better match for Bramble’s easy stride and temperament than Windsor, and unbeknownst to my wife, both horses had been specifically chosen for a purpose.
By the first week in May, Elizabeth and I were on horseback for hours, traversing the many acres of my estate and even venturing past Lambton to see a small fall of water that fed the creeks of my estate.
On those occasions when we planned to ride far, her horse was fitted with a common saddle, and Elizabeth, having discreetly pinned her petticoats for the sake of comfort, learnt to ride astride as comfortably as any gamekeeper’s daughter.
At last, the pages of my calendar turned and the cloudless morning I had so long held in my mind dawned.
I stood by the window in my room and sipped my tea with a smile of mischief playing on my lips.
Below me, I watched as Trusty was loaded with his pack saddle, and then Carsten came from the stable leading his horse.
Donaldson then also came into view, already mounted and stringing behind him a second mule, well provisioned, and as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, he threw a look up to the window where I watched.
After tipping his hat to me in a wry gesture of conspiracy, he turned to lead the party down the drive.
“Husband,” Elizabeth said, bursting unceremoniously into my room. “What is this strange present you have given me this morning?” She held in her hand a rumpled garment and the torn paper in which it had been wrapped.
“That is a pair of trousers made to fit you. Did your maid not tell you?”
“She did, and she said you have also instructed me to wear them under the skirt of my homeliest—my word, what are you wearing?”
“You are wasting the best part of the morning with these questions, Elizabeth. Did I not warn you I had a surprise in mind? Now, for the first—and likely the last time in our lives—do exactly what I say when I say it. Get dressed, meet me on the portico, and be quick about it.”
“Well!” she said with her hands on her hips and a little shake of her head. But even as she protested, her comprehension grew.
I had a monumental surprise planned for her, and I watched her face as the scope of it began to dawn on her. To my utmost relief, she surrendered with good grace, and with her eyes suddenly sharp and sparkling, she whirled around and went back to her room.
Her resistance had been more playful than sincere, and in under a quarter of an hour, she appeared where I waited with our horses.
Keller stood by with crossed arms and a look of prim disapproval.
Mrs Reynolds, with a similar expression of dismay also came out, and even Mr Parker seemed a touch perplexed by the vagaries of his employer as he witnessed the inelegant scene of my making.
I do not believe even on the day of her wedding Elizabeth had looked so radiant. Striving not to appear as dumbstruck by her beauty as I was, I greeted her with some semblance of calm and a touch of playful indifference.
“You look a proper alewife this morning, Mrs Darcy.”
“So says the woodsman. Am I to gather cockles and nettles for our supper? Where to, Mr Darcy?” she asked, dipping a saucy curtsey.
I tossed her up into her saddle and tucked her sturdy boots into the stirrups. “Say farewell to the comforts of this palace, my dear, for I have something better in mind.”
“Oh? What, pray tell, is better than paradise?” she asked as she took up the reins.
“The world, my darling. I mean to show it to you,” I said expansively, as I threw my leg over Stella’s broad back.
And in the company of the most precious sound in all of nature—her laugh of pure joy—I took my young wife into the wilds of my country to taste the fullness of life as it was given to us.