Chapter 4
Mr. Phillips’ Office
Meryton
“This way to Mr. Phillips’s office, sirs,” the clerk said, opening a door.
Darcy stepped into the office, with Mr. Hanson, his man of business, at his heels.
Darcy looked about himself appraisingly.
Phillips had decorated his office simply and professionally, with a handful of chairs upholstered in riveted brown leather placed around the room, a large oak desk, matching bookshelves on one wall, and a couple of tables.
The man did not stint the wood in his hearth either, which was pleasant.
There was a raw, damp, unpleasant edge to the chill of the day that made the fire very welcome.
Four men were already in the room, seated around a large table which had been placed beneath a large window.
Darcy took stock of them as they all rose politely.
Bennet he knew, of course, and he recognized Phillips from the assembly, and he was not likely to forget Stirling. The fourth man was unknown to him.
Darcy halted and said, “Good morning, gentlemen. May I please introduce my man of business, Mr. Hanson? Hanson, Mr. Stirling, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Phillips.”
The men exchanged bows, and then Mr. Stirling said, “May I please introduce you both to my man of business, Mr. Charbury.”
Again, there were bows, and Mr. Phillips said, “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Hanson, will you not sit down?”
The men obeyed, and Mr. Phillips said, “Mr. Darcy, I know that you and Mr. Bennet need to discuss wedding settlements, but I hope you do not mind if Mr. Bennet and Mr. Stirling complete their business first so that there will be no impediments to your marriage to Miss Elizabeth.”
“As you wish,” Darcy said, a trifle impatiently.
Phillips nodded and turned to Mr. Stirling, who was scowling.
“At your request,” the solicitor said, “I have prepared these documents declaring that you have given up all legal rights to marriage with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Moreover, you are giving up your right to six hundred pounds a year from the coffers of Longbourn in perpetuity until Mr. Bennet’s death. ”
Darcy’s man of business leaned forward with a frown. “Six hundred pounds a year … may I inquire what this is about?”
Bennet grimaced and said, “Mr. Stirling and I signed papers some weeks ago wherein I agreed that if my daughter Elizabeth did not marry Mr. Stirling, he would have the right to take six hundred pounds a year from Longbourn until my death.”
“Until your death, or until the debt was paid off?” Darcy demanded.
Bennet cast a quick glance at Stirling and said. “Six hundred pounds a year until my death, regardless of the condition of the debt.”
“That seems odd,” Hanson said diplomatically.
Phillips harrumphed and said, “Yes, it was rather odd, but in any case, it matters not because in the original document, there was a clause which stated that if Mr. Stirling broke off the engagement, the entire document would become void. I am merely having both Bennet and Stirling sign another document to make the situation very clear.”
Darcy turned to consider Mr. Stirling’s truculent expression, and he said, “I see. Thank you for the explanation.”
He leaned back and watched until the two men had signed both documents.
When they had finished, Stirling sat back in his chair, and his countenance grew genuinely ugly.
“Mr. Bennet, you are aware, of course, that you still owe me twelve thousand pounds. Given that my engagement to Miss Elizabeth is over, I will be expecting that money to be paid in the next month, else you will find yourself at Marshalsea.”
Bennet winced and turned a hopeful look on Darcy.
Darcy nodded reassuringly and said, “Mr. Hanson, you have the draft from Drummonds?”
“Yes, sir,” Hanson replied, opening his satchel, rummaging carefully through his pile of papers, extracting one piece, and handing it to Mr. Stirling. “Here is the twelve thousand pounds to pay off Mr. Bennet’s debt, sir.”
Stirling’s face shifted from vicious to shocked in a moment. He slowly reached out a hand, read the draft from Drummonds, and then lifted a dazed face to Darcy.
“You are paying off Bennet’s debt?” he demanded.
“Obviously,” Darcy replied, straightening and adopting a haughty expression. “I will hardly allow my future father-in-law to be imprisoned for debt if I have the ability to prevent it, and I do.”
Stirling looked Mr. Charbury, whose demeanor was carefully neutral, and then said, grudgingly, “Very well. I think you are a fool, but assuming this clears at Drummonds…”
“There is no question that it will clear,” Darcy said imperiously.
“Before you leave, Mr. Stirling,” Hanson said, pulling out another piece of paper and pushing it over, “would you be so kind as to sign this receipt acknowledging that Mr. Bennet’s debt has been paid off?”
Stirling glared first at Hanson, then at Darcy, then at his own man of business and finally, for good measure, scowled at Bennet before giving into the inevitable.
He hastily scrawled his signature on the form, pushed it back, and then turned toward Darcy.
For a moment he merely stared, and then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes?”
“I am not certain if you are aware of it, but Miss Elizabeth Bennet will take control of a substantial plot of land in Wales when she turns one and twenty. I am interested in purchasing that land, and it would mitigate your outlay on behalf of your bride.”
Bennet, who had been slumping against his own chair with a relieved expression, abruptly straightened.
“What?!” he demanded.
Stirling turned a disdainful look on the older man. “Did you really think I was solely pursuing the charms of your second daughter, Mr. Bennet? She is a handsome young lady, of course, but my primary interest has always been the land in Wales.”
Darcy glanced at Bennet, who was staring with bulging eyes and a gaping mouth, and said, calmly, “Is the land worth a great deal, then?”
Stirling wrinkled his nose and shrugged negligently.
“It is not worth a great deal, no, but it is adjacent to a family estate, and I have an aged aunt, Lady Stromberg, whose grandfather lost the land in a foolish bet. She has long desired to return that land to her family, and I wish to please her.”
Darcy regarded him with interest. This, then, was the answer to a point that had been bothering him for some time. Why had this man, this worldly, older man, chosen to wed an undowered country girl with no prospects?
The answer was that he knew what the Bennets did not, that Elizabeth was an heiress.
Though Stirling admitted to finding Elizabeth quite attractive in her person, it was her inheritance which had induced him to choose her as his wife.
Lost land that bordered his family’s; yes, Darcy could see how that would be desirable.
Darcy said, “Perhaps something can be arranged, Mr. Stirling. If you will give Hanson your man’s direction, we can discuss the situation at further length by correspondence.”
Stirling nodded at Charbury, who obediently wrote down an address and handed it to Hanson. Mr. Phillips, who was waiting with barely concealed impatience, promptly rose and said, “Sir, shall I show you the way out?”
Darcy was curious about the plot of land, very curious, but he was a man of discipline. His wedding to Miss Elizabeth was in but a few days, and he needed to sort out the settlements with Bennet.
He would worry about Elizabeth’s land later.
***
Meryton Church
Tuesday, 29th August 1811
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” old Mr. Allen, the rector of the church in Meryton, began.
Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in green, with a lace overdress, stood with a straight back and rigid knees by the man who would soon be her husband.
He was, without a doubt, a very handsome gentleman, with his great height, patrician features, and slightly curly hair.
“The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God…”
Behind her, the pews were filled with relations and family friends. The Gardiners, her uncle and aunt from London, had kindly driven up to Meryton, leaving their children in the care of faithful nursemaids. The Lucases were here as well, of course, and the Gouldings, and the Longs.
Her eyes were fixed on Mr. Allen, conducting the service, but behind her she could hear the soft sobbing of Mrs. Bennet.
Not, Elizabeth knew, because her mother would greatly miss her, but because her mother did not know the meaning of restraint.
Ever since the mistress of Longbourn had heard that Fitzwilliam Darcy was master of an estate worth ten thousand pounds a year, ever since she had discovered that Darcy had paid off the debt and saved her husband from Marshalsea, she had been nearly hysterical with joy.
Now she cried because she was happy, or relieved, or something of the sort.
“Elizabeth Frances Bennet, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” Elizabeth declared and was thankful when her voice did not tremble.
Mr. Allen nodded gravely and turned toward Mr. Darcy.
“Fitzwilliam Adam Darcy, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
Darcy glanced at her and then turned back.
“I will,” he said firmly.
Elizabeth swallowed, and tears filled her eyes, causing the old parson’s form to wobble in her vision. She was thankful when the tears did not escape to drip down her cheeks, and that her legs kept her upright in the midst of such a momentous occasion.
The service continued inexorably. The two exchanged rings, and Mr. Allen prayed, and finally the old man turned to the congregation and intoned. “The peace of God be always with you.”
“And also with you,” chorused those watching.
Elizabeth turned toward her new husband and lifted her eyes. He gazed down at her, his own eyes soft, and then held out his arm. She took it, and he escorted her to where the wedding register waited.
She released her husband’s arm and carefully signed her name, then stepped back. Fitzwilliam Darcy signed next, and then Mr. Allen did as well, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who were serving as witnesses.
Again, Mr. Darcy held out his arm, and she took it, and together they walked down the aisle toward the back of the church, with her family and friends standing up, watching.
The atmosphere, she mused, was a peculiar one.
Her mother’s expression was one of giddy joy, but her father appeared sorrowful and Jane anxious.
Her next three sisters, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia looked calm, uncertain, and bored, respectively.
There would be no wedding breakfast, at Elizabeth’s request. The wedding was awkward enough, but to sit in the drawing room at Longbourn with Fitzwilliam Darcy at her side, with her neighbors and family uncertain of what to say, would be torture.
The Darcy carriage was waiting outside, with four fine black horses shifting and stamping in anticipation. A footman rushed forward to open the door, and Darcy helped her within, and climbed inside a moment later.
Elizabeth sat down as far away from Darcy as possible and looked outside. The crowd from the church had spilled into the street, and Elizabeth found herself gazing directly at her dear Aunt Gardiner, who smiled at her lovingly.
Elizabeth smiled back, just as the coachman called out a warning, and a moment later, the horses began walking, then trotting, away from Meryton, away from Longbourn, away from her family of birth, toward Pemberley, the estate which she would soon oversee as its mistress.
Silence reigned for a full ten minutes, as the carriage made its steady way down the road which led to the Great North Road.
And then…
“Are you well, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked gently.
She turned toward him, her eyes brimming with happy tears. She scooted over to him and leaned her head against his great, strong chest.
“I have never been happier, Fitzwilliam,” she said. “We did it!”
“We did indeed,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her on the lips, before straightening again. “We are married at last, and Mr. Stirling cannot touch you, ever.”
Elizabeth, who had admired and respected, and yes, loved, Fitzwilliam Darcy for many weeks, could not help but reach up to kiss him again, this time with such intensity that when they parted, both were breathless.
“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“And I love you, my dear, beloved, precious wife.”