Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Miss Elizabeth’s bonnet was perfect. Her gown was perfect. Her hair was perfect. Miss Elizabeth was perfect.
No, she had been rude and accusatory, and she had confessed to killing his aunt, for Heaven’s sake!
Yet she had not harmed Lady Catherine. Not really.
His aunt—had he understood rightly?—arrived without invitation and made accusations directed towards Miss Elizabeth founded on lies and gossip?
It was unlike his aunt to travel to do such things.
The rest did seem accurate. She collapsed, but was that Miss Elizabeth’s fault?
She drove him to vexation, but nothing Miss Elizabeth did could kill a person.
Except refusing to be with him. That, he thought, might end him.
“The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind,” intoned the vicar, “is intended by God for their mutual joy.”
Bingley had been anxious the night prior, asking whether Darcy thought he was up to the, uh, challenge of pleasing Miss Bennet…
bodily. This had surprised Darcy. He knew that Bingley, like most gentlemen, had indulged occasionally in sins of the flesh with women paid for their discretion and, well, cleanliness.
When he reminded Bingley of this fact, Bingley insisted that this had to be different.
Perhaps not the mechanics, but the sentiment, and as Miss Bennet was entirely unskilled, Bingley feared he might disappoint, or worse, hurt her.
It had stumped Darcy. He did not want to offer false assurances or poor advice, and he did not know what an innocent such as Miss Jane Bennet would need.
Unlike Miss Elizabeth, whose kisses, God help him, were passionate, and he doubted she would need much encouragement— No, just thinking on her hurt his entire body and soul.
He suggested that Bingley act with respect, and go about it all slowly and carefully, offering explanations and asking if Miss Bennet was comfortable.
Bingley had nodded, saying that the advice was sound, but had still held his drink against his lips without sipping, and had stared out of the window for longer than seemed necessary.
Darcy considered a wedding night. The cruelty of proper women’s inexperience seemed inexcusable. They ought to know more, but he did not think a woman coming to marriage with experience was right, either. He would not want a wife who had been touched by another. It was a conundrum.
The vicar continued, “For the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity.”
How could he be with Miss Elizabeth if they were both so quick to anger during adversity?
Prosperity would never be a concern, as his relatives had left him with an astonishing inheritance.
It was a pressure few understood, but it was a pressure.
Nevertheless, he was aware that to be free from financial concern was a blessing not everyone had.
But adversity was not simply financial. It was the frustrations of life, and he and Elizabeth had not weathered the last months’ challenges well.
He was embarrassed by his own behaviour and troubled by hers.
Yet, both had acted out of a deep love of family.
So…should they have their own family, could not one predict that they would fiercely protect their own? That was positive.
“And, when,” said the vicar, “it is God's will, for the procreation of children…”
Did Darcy want children? Attempting to raise Georgiana had proven painful and terrifying.
He had enjoyed her successes and basked in her love, but he doubted each choice he made for her, feared saying something that might wound or alter her, as their parents had done to him over and over.
No one spoke of these fears and challenges, but he might confess them to Miss Elizabeth.
If they were together. Which they could not, should not be.
“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.”
Quite right. He could not be anything but deliberate, and his good sense told him to cease thinking of Miss Elizabeth. Like any mourning, it would take time, but he could let her go. He had to let her go.