Chapter XXI #2
When Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley joined them a few moments later, Elizabeth studied them both, anticipating the coming announcement.
Mr. Bennet was wry in a way that was familiar to Elizabeth, though tempered with the sort of melancholy a father might feel when confronted with a daughter leaving him.
Mr. Bingley appeared a little astonished.
The chuckle by her side told Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy had noted it too.
“Mrs. Bennet,” said her husband. “You will be pleased to know that young Bingley here has shown remarkable improvement. The last time he was here, it took him several months, and even then he did not come to the point. This time it has not even taken him half an hour.”
Then he turned to Mr. Bingley with a gleam in his eye. “London has taught you efficiency, sir.”
“Not at all, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, shaking off his stupor. “I have only seen what I was missing before. All I have done is reach out to grasp it.”
“Yes, well, I must commend you for your determination.”
Mrs. Bennet was not understanding the thrust of their jests. Though Mr. Bennet was much more apt to tease his wife, this time he took pity on her.
“It appears that you have two weddings to plan, Mrs. Bennet. Bingley here approached me not ten minutes ago to sue for the hand of your eldest daughter. While I considered the relative benefits of running him off my land, it seems Jane cannot live without him. Thus, I have given him my blessing.”
It was a moment before Mrs. Bennet mustered a response. When she did, Elizabeth was not the only one who wished she had remained in stunned incomprehension.
“Two weddings!” exclaimed she, an expression of uninhibited delight coming over her features. “Oh, Mr. Bingley! I knew that you must see how excellent a wife Jane would be. How happy I am that you have returned!”
“No happier than I am myself, Mrs. Bennet.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Bingley,” said Georgiana before anyone else could open their mouths, “but I am most displeased with you.”
Taken aback, Mr. Bingley stared at her. “You are?” was the only answer he could muster.
“Yes, I am.”
Though Mr. Bingley was nonplussed, Elizabeth could see the glimmer in Georgiana’s eyes that bespoke a coming tease. For that matter, Mr. Darcy appeared to see it too, as he settled back onto the sofa, his arms crossed, the merest suggestion of a smile apparent to one who watched carefully.
“Were you not to marry me, sir?” demanded Georgiana. “Why, your sister made your future very clear on any number of occasions. Shall you now set this expectation aside with nary an attempt to explain yourself?”
Belatedly, Mr. Bingley understood the tease, though he sported a tight grin. Not everyone in the room understood the jest.
“You are to marry Mr. Bingley?” demanded Mrs. Bennet.
“No, Mrs. Bennet,” said Bingley, removing the need to respond from Georgiana. “I have recently become aware that my sister said more than she should. You have my apologies, Miss Darcy, but I have never regarded you with any more affection than my friend’s sister.”
Georgiana was positively brimming with mirth as she said: “I know not how I shall endure this rejection, but there appears to be no other option.”
Then she turned to Mrs. Bennet. “My apologies, Mrs. Bennet—it was an ill-timed jest on my part. I have never regarded Mr. Bingley as my future husband..”
Mrs. Bennet was not amused, but for once she chose tact. “That is fine, dear.”
Turning to Mr. Bingley, she said: “Tell me, Mr. Bingley, will your excellent sisters join you soon?”
“They will not,” said Mr. Bingley, his tone clipped. “Caroline and Louisa are with my family in the north for a visit, and shall not come south for several weeks. When they do, I expect them to go to London, though they shall attend my wedding, of course.”
The way Mrs. Bennet eyed him, Elizabeth was concerned she might say something she should not.
“Yes, that might be for the best,” said she, calming Elizabeth’s fears.
THE DAYS AND WEEKS that followed abounded with wedding talk, such that Mr. Bennet sought the refuge of his study even more than was his wont.
He was not the only one who deplored such talk, of course.
Miss Bennet endured it with her usual even temper, and Bingley endured it knowing that the sooner the discussions were concluded, the sooner he might enjoy his fiancée’s sole attention.
Miss Elizabeth tolerated it with much less patience than her sister.
The younger girls contributed little, but that was no surprise, for they were more interested in their newfound companionship.
Thoughts of the girls often brought the youngest to Darcy’s mind, and that, of course, meant Miss Lydia.
The news of their arrival back in Meryton had made its way around the neighborhood within hours of her return.
While there were a few jaundiced looks in her direction, the story they had put out appeared to be holding—either that, or the neighborhood had opted for polite avoidance of the subject while maintaining a measure of disbelief.
As Mr. Bennet had predicted, news of two Bennet engagements coming so close together had driven the matter of Miss Lydia from the gossips’ minds.
As he had expected, Mr. Bennet put certain restrictions on his youngest, such that for the moment, she was not allowed to attend certain events of the neighborhood.
Darcy suspected the girl would have protested her exclusion more vigorously had Georgiana not been in similar circumstances.
As Georgiana was also not out, and would not start attending local society until the next year, the girls kept each other company while the elders were otherwise occupied.
More than Darcy had breathed a sigh of relief at this development.
Miss Lydia’s manners had not seen extensive alteration just yet—the girl was still unguarded and outspoken.
Lately, however, Darcy had seen a hint of hesitation before some of her more impulsive acts.
Perhaps it was due to Georgiana’s example, though it could also be because Mrs. Annesley, knowing that Miss Lydia would associate with her charge because of Darcy and Miss Elizabeth’s engagement, had taken to giving the girl a little instruction when the occasion permitted it.
As for the other girls, Darcy had found Miss Mary intelligent, though her choice of subject was not always engaging.
Miss Kitty, to his surprise, moderated her behavior with considerably more alacrity than he had expected.
When he observed this to Miss Elizabeth, she gave him one of those mischievous looks that set fire to his heart.
“It is no surprise at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “Kitty has very little inertia of her own. If Lydia is wild, then Kitty is wild. If Lydia begins improving, then Kitty improves. Added to this, I suspect, is that Kitty has noticed your sister’s gentility and has followed her lead.”
“That is useful information, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “If that is so, the trick will be to find a man that your sister can follow.”
“Without a doubt, Mr. Darcy,” agreed she, laughing. “Kitty is a pleasant girl, but she is no leader. A man she can look up to would suit her admirably.”
Even Lady Catherine’s visit did nothing to dampen the general festive atmosphere at Longbourn, though that may have, in part, been Darcy’s presence when the lady came.
After he had sent her back to Kent, her promises to approach the earl ringing in his ears—as if his uncle did not already know everything and refused to support her—he and Miss Elizabeth had occasion to speak on the subject.
“Did you not journey to Kent to make Lady Catherine aware of our engagement?” asked she, mischief shining.
“I did,” replied Darcy. “But you can hardly expect that a lady so forceful as my aunt would accept defeat.”
“Then you expected her to confront me?”
“I had hoped she would not,” confessed Darcy. “I could not discount the possibility.”
Miss Elizabeth chuckled; Darcy had known she was not injured by Lady Catherine’s ridiculous behavior, but he was relieved all the same.
“No, I suppose you could not. Do you suppose she will relent?”
“Not for some time. Then again, we may wish her to keep her offense—once her curiosity overwhelms her, she may well drive us to distraction with her need to meddle.”
“Then let us hope she stays away.”
The season of their engagement elapsed as these things did, and a month before Christmas, Darcy met Miss Elizabeth Bennet at the altar in Longbourn church.
Darcy was never able, even in later years, to describe what he felt on that occasion, but the feeling remained with him all the days of his life.
After their wedding, they spent several days at the house in town, before they made their way north to Pemberley.
The journey in winter was never pleasant, but Darcy found he could endure it much better; travelling with his new wife pressed up against him under blankets and warmed bricks might have had something to do with his unusual contentment.
“I am eager to see Pemberley in winter,” said Elizabeth as the carriage rolled up the road toward Pemberley, which would appear after only a few more minutes.
“Shall you not deplore it?” asked Darcy, feeling utterly content with the sensation of his beautiful new wife in the circle of his arms. “Knowing how much you love walking, being a prisoner is a form of punishment, is it not?”
“Ah, but the house is so beautiful that I shall have, on the whole, no cause to repent.”
Darcy nuzzled her hair, her bonnet having been discarded some time ago to give him access to her mahogany locks. “If you maintain that stance until spring, it will surprise me very much.”
“By then we will be in London for the season.” Darcy could almost see the expression of vexation, though he could not see her face. “I am quite put out with you, Mr. Darcy. The needs of society will deny me Pemberley in the spring.”