CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Darcys and the Bennets
The final month before Elizabeth's wedding proved that five educated daughters could still misplace the same length of lace.
Lady Bennet blamed Lydia. Lydia blamed the dressmaker. Kitty found the lace beneath a portfolio where she had placed it for safety. Miss Harwood closed the morning-room door and stood against it until everyone agreed to search one room at a time.
Elizabeth's gown was ivory silk, simpler than Lady Bennet preferred and finer than Elizabeth intended. The Queen's locket would rest at her throat. Jane embroidered a small spray of oak leaves inside the hem where no guest would see them.
"For the two houses," she said.
Mary composed a processional and refused to perform it herself.
"I wish to watch you enter," she told Elizabeth. "The organist can manage."
Kitty sketched Pemberley from a print and added a tiny figure in the foreground wearing Elizabeth's green walking dress. Lydia abandoned the doves and proposed bells on the carriage horses instead.
"One bell each," Lady Bennet permitted. "No more."
Sir Thomas reviewed travel arrangements, settlements, weather reports, and the quality of every bridge north of London as if Derbyshire had been discovered for the occasion.
Darcy endured fittings and legal papers at Longbourn while Bingley offered the wisdom of four months' marriage.
"Agree about curtains," Bingley advised. "They are not worth principle."
"What is worth principle?"
"Letters. Estate purchases. Whether a guest may remain six weeks. Eggs, apparently, are not."
"Your education advances."
"Jane is an excellent instructor."
Elizabeth and Darcy met almost daily but were seldom alone. Anticipation altered every ordinary exchange. When he handed her a cup, his fingers lingered. When she adjusted his cravat after Lydia declared it crooked, both forgot the room for one dangerous second.
One evening they walked the terrace while Sir Thomas watched from the library window with exaggerated visibility.
"Are you afraid?" Darcy asked.
"Of marriage?"
"Of leaving, Pemberley, my family, any of it."
Elizabeth considered. "I am afraid of becoming only Mrs Darcy in rooms where no one knew Elizabeth Bennet."
"Then I shall introduce you properly."
"You cannot command what people see."
"No. But I can remember who you are when they do not."
She took his arm. "And you?"
"I fear disappointing you after reform has made me attractive. Daily life may reveal I still leave papers everywhere and become silent when worried."
"I have seen your desk. The papers are a serious defect."
"Can you endure it?"
"If you can endure that I walk before breakfast, invite people you have not approved, and sometimes prefer being angry for an hour before becoming reasonable."
"I shall allow two."
"Generous."
He smiled, then became solemn. "I do not expect either of us to remain as we are on the wedding day."
"Good. It would make every anniversary tedious."
Darcy lifted her hand beneath the cover of twilight and kissed her palm.
A little more than a fortnight before the wedding, Mrs Reynolds arrived from Pemberley with two senior servants to accompany the new couple north. She greeted Elizabeth warmly and spent an hour with Lady Bennet discussing linen inventories.
"You must tell her when she is wrong," Lady Bennet instructed.
Mrs Reynolds looked toward Elizabeth. "I believe Mrs Darcy will ask."
Lady Bennet's eyes filled at the title.
"Not yet," Elizabeth said gently.
"In little more than a fortnight. That is hardly time at all."
Later that afternoon, the five sisters gathered in Jane's old room at Longbourn. No mother, governess, husband, or betrothed was admitted.
They sat on the floor among gowns and boxes as they had in childhood.
Lydia asked questions Jane refused to answer. Kitty cried and denied it. Mary gave Elizabeth the first printed copy of Two Houses, inscribed: For the sister who waited until I could walk beside her. Jane placed the last stitch in the oak leaves.
Elizabeth looked at them and understood that leaving did not undo belonging.
"You must all come to Pemberley," she said.
"At once?" Lydia asked.
"Not at once."
"For how long?"
"We shall negotiate."
"You sound like Mr Darcy already."
"Our governance," Mary reminded her.
They laughed until Lady Bennet knocked and demanded her daughters back.
* * *
The following evening, Sir Thomas and Lady Bennet hosted the Earl and Countess of Matlock at Netherfield because Lady Bennet refused to let the Darcy relations inspect her family only on church pews.
"They shall dine at our table, eat our cook's food, and see that Lydia knows which fork to use," she said.
Lydia looked offended. "I know all the forks. I only disagree with the order."
The earl arrived with Lady Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and Anne de Bourgh. Mr and Mrs Collins had come from Hunsford earlier that day and were staying at Lucas Lodge until the wedding. Lady Catherine was not expected.
Anne was thin, pale, and far more observant than her mother's descriptions suggested. She embraced Darcy, greeted Elizabeth without condescension, and asked to meet Mary.
"I have your music," she said. "It is the first piece I have practiced from choice in years."
Mary's shyness eased. Within minutes they discussed tempo.
Lady Matlock admired Kitty's portrait. The earl spoke with Sir Thomas about the King's letter and later with Mr Gardiner about trade. Colonel Fitzwilliam allowed Lydia to question him about the army until she asked whether colonels selected uniforms according to complexion.
"At last," he said, "a matter of national security."
The two families did not blend without edges. Lady Matlock looked startled when Lady Bennet described Darcy's income at dinner. Lydia interrupted the earl. Mr Collins, included as family, praised Rosings until Anne requested he discuss Hunsford instead.
But no one was humiliated. Correction arrived without contempt. The evening became livelier than a Matlock dinner and more formal than a Bennet one, a compromise perhaps suited to the marriage ahead.
Halfway through dessert, wheels sounded outside.
Anne's face changed. "My mother."
Lady Catherine entered without apology.
Lady Bennet stood. "Again? At least this time the eggs are safe."
Darcy concealed a smile. Elizabeth rose beside him.
Lady Catherine looked around the table: her brother, sister-in-law, daughter, nephews, Georgiana, the Gardiners, the Bennets, and Mr Collins halfway out of his chair.
"Sit down, Mr Collins."
He did.
The earl regarded his sister. "Have you come to dine or declare war?"
"I have dined."
"Then the second remains possible."
Anne stood. "Mama, I wrote that I would attend the wedding."
"You wrote many things in a most ungrateful letter."
"They were true. I do not wish to marry Darcy."
Lady Catherine flinched more at her daughter's public voice than its content.
Anne continued, pale but steady. "Miss Elizabeth did not steal my future. She prevented you from continuing to imagine one I never wanted."
Silence held.
Elizabeth saw Darcy prepare to intervene, then settle back in his chair.
Lady Catherine looked at her daughter for a long time. "You should have told me."
"I tried."
The words were quiet and devastating.
Lady Catherine sat in the empty chair a servant brought. Some of her grandeur seemed to remain standing without her.
Lady Bennet, unexpectedly, poured tea.
"Daughters speak softly when they fear disappointing us," she said. "It is inconvenient. One must listen between speeches."
Sir Thomas looked at his wife with affection.
Lady Catherine accepted the cup. "I do not require instruction in motherhood."
"No one who requires it does."
The earl coughed violently into his napkin.
Lady Catherine did not congratulate Elizabeth. She did not apologize. But she asked Anne whether she wished to return to Rosings after the wedding or stay with Lady Matlock for a month.
"Stay in London," Anne said.
"Very well."
It was a small answer and perhaps the first real one between them.
When Lady Catherine left, she paused before Elizabeth.
"Darcy is obstinate."
"I know."
"Pemberley requires attention."
"I know that too."
Lady Catherine's gaze moved to their joined hands. "You will not be easily managed."
"No."
Something almost like approval passed through her face and vanished.
"I shall attend the ceremony," she said. "I will not attend the breakfast."
Darcy bowed. "Thank you, Aunt."
After she departed, Lady Bennet released the breath she had apparently held for an hour.
"Her hat was better."
* * *
Two mornings after Lady Catherine's departure, a magistrate's messenger reached Netherfield before breakfast. Wickham had escaped while being returned to Hertford gaol after a magistrate's examination concerning the additional forged drafts.
Floodwater had forced the escort carriage to slow at a ford; Wickham struck a guard with his irons, slipped into the trees, and disappeared.
One guard was injured but expected to recover.
The magistrate believed Wickham would make for London or the coast. Sir Thomas believed a man driven by grievance might choose a less sensible road.
Georgiana was staying at Netherfield for the wedding. Darcy's first impulse was to send her to Matlock House under guard. He came to the drawing room prepared to announce the decision and stopped when he saw her waiting beside Mary.
"You wish me to leave," Georgiana said.
Darcy drew a breath. "I wish you safe. What do you wish?"
"To remain. If Wickham threatens to publish the Ramsgate letters, I will give evidence myself. I will not let silence become another room in which he can confine me."
Fear sharpened Darcy's face, but he did not answer for her. He asked what protections would allow her to remain without making the household careless. Georgiana requested that Mrs Annesley stay beside her and that no one conceal news from her.