Chapter 65
Chapter Sixty-Five
Elizabeth hoped she had prepared her daughter for her wedding night.
While she offered more details than her mother, who merely said, “Let him do as he pleases,” and Jane, who blushed and stammered too often to say much more than, “He will guide you,” Elizabeth did not tell her daughter all.
Rose blanched when her mother attempted a frank discussion, but did listen as Elizabeth said it would and should be pleasurable for both husband and wife.
Rose had grown up witnessing affection, and Elizabeth hoped it would serve her well.
Elizabeth noted that Darcy still got chills every time she kissed him behind his ear.
They still stole occasional kisses in doorways and empty sitting rooms, and she thrilled when their hands brushed at social events.
They had stopped at four children at Elizabeth’s insistence, for her body and attention felt too strained as it was, and while it did alter some of their intimacies, they did still share a bed more often than not, and found ways to make each other happy.
Elizabeth knew the young couple had not attempted more than kisses, for Rose had told her so and she was a child incapable of lying.
Upon reflection, Elizabeth thought it wise that Darcy had run to London for the month before their wedding, for she thought Rose might have been born suspiciously early otherwise.
She had spent the weeks before her own wedding at fittings for dresses and purchasing gloves and undergarments with her mother.
Mama had thought to take an uncharacteristic trip to town to gather finer items, but mercifully Papa had denied this attempt, saying everything in town would be too expensive and the choices so numerous he feared they might get lost in the decision-making and not return at all.
Elizabeth had been relieved, for she did not know how to explain to her parents that she feared running into Darcy, who had run off to avoid defiling her.
She had not thought of it in such negative terms, but he worried, as he still did, about expectations.
She had learned to care a bit more about them.
For her own wedding, she had hoped Darcy and Georgiana would return to Netherfield at least a week in advance so that she and Darcy could enjoy the days leading up to the event together.
Perhaps “enjoy” was not the right word, for it had been chaotic and absurd at Longbourn, with her mother fretting about every detail, but Elizabeth had begun to worry that Darcy would never return.
Despite his letters that claimed otherwise, she could not keep herself from fretting.
And when she was left waiting nearly a quarter hour at the church before his arrival, when he ought to have been awaiting her at the altar as Mr Rutledge had for her daughter…
Elizabeth had almost given up hope. When Darcy did, at last, enter with hurried apologies, she was furious, and despite Goulding’s and Bingley’s assurances that it had been a question of wardrobe and not his love for her, she had requested a moment with him alone outside.
“Are you certain this is what you desire?” she had asked, ignoring passing well-wishers. “If not, I had rather know it now than endure a lifetime of misery and resentment.”
Darcy had taken hold of her shoulders and kissed her lips. Once. Twice. Then whispered in her ear, “I have never wanted anything more in my life than to marry you. I was so afraid of wanting it too much that I even ruined today.”
She stepped back. “It is not ruined.” Taking his hand, she had led him into the church saying, “Come, let us wed before another death or disaster thwarts our plans!”
He had laughed, a welcome sound and one that she strove to produce whenever possible to this day.
Rose, standing at the altar, gazed at her beloved in the same way she had looked at Darcy on their wedding day, and Elizabeth was content.
The ceremony was quick, and soon all were making their way back to Pemberley.
Her children, as well as Jane’s and Charlotte’s, decided to walk, while most of the adults chose to ride.
In the carriage, behind the one carrying Mr and—heavens!
now Mrs Rutledge—, Darcy and Elizabeth sat separately, staring out at the passing trees and rolling hills.
At first, she was distracted by thoughts of the breakfast arrangements.
With a staff as large and competent as Pemberley’s, she knew there was nothing to fear, but it was easier than thinking of losing her daughter.
It was not a loss, exactly, for they would see one another, but it was certainly an enormous change.
Unlike her sons, who had been sent off to boarding school far sooner than she would have liked, her daughters had remained home, tutored by masters when necessary, though Elizabeth attempted to minimize such visits.
It would feel empty come the start of term when the boys went off again, she feared.
But what could be done? She was pleased Rose had married, though she did not express it with the same level of enthusiasm her mother had displayed when each of her daughters were wed.
Elizabeth reached to Darcy and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, though he looked melancholy.
“She will be back,” offered Elizabeth.
“I know.”
What Elizabeth would remember of the day was not the flowers or the food or who was there, but how she felt: how incredibly lucky she was that Kitty had once demanded a funeral for a guinea pig.
THE END