Matlock Manor, the morning after the ball, had been completely put back to rights by the household staff. There was no evidence hundreds had been revelling there only hours previously, except for the fact a fair portion of the company was, in fact, still under the Earl’s roof. The family wing and guest chambers were all quiescently occupied, and those carousers who feared they might suffer from being hung over in the morning simply circumvented the problem by sleeping well past noon.
Fitzwilliam Darcy stayed overnight because he and his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, planned to call on their brides-to-be as soon as propriety allowed; and it was of relative importance the ladies upon whom they were to call just happened to be sisters. The two young men hoped they might be the first to break their fasts but were dismayed to find Richard’s elder brother, the Viscount Wentletrap, still attired in his evening clothes, slumped at the table. Upon observing his sibling’s unkempt appearance and fragile condition, Fitz made a point of speaking more loudly than necessary. “Well, well, Darce, look what the early bird left us. Brother, I am surprised to discover you here, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, after the batch of blue ruin you imbibed last night.”
The wretched, bleary-eyed man flinched, forced some coffee down his throat, and retorted, “Yes, well, I may have bowed to the porcelain altar of my chamber pot; but you two cork-brained buffoons will soon be paying a much, much higher price.”
Darcy sat several places away from his loathsome cousin, who was decidedly green around the gills. He knew he should ignore the cynic. Nevertheless, like the bird sitting on a perch, he smelled something fishy and asked, “What cause have you to make such a caustic remark, James?”
“You have heard of sacrifices made at the altar, have you not?” He sniggered unpleasantly and continued, “Love may be blind; but, believe me, marriage is a real eye-opener and a rather nasty matter of wife and debt. A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.”
With neither rhyme nor reason, his affronted brother sat back in his chair, glared and declared, “James, you may be the all-important heir, but beware and have a care. I am aware your intent is to scare; but I swear by the air I breathe, you err. How dare you unfairly compare your patched-up affair and sorry excuse of a marriage ensnared to that which the fair Miss Bennet and I will e’er share. We shall be a rare happily wed pair, for she is the answer to my every prayer. Jane Bennet is an angel!”
“Ha! You are lucky then. Unfortunately for me, Isabelle is still alive. Oh, do not give me that superior look, Darce. Your love for Miss What’s-Her-Name is also an obsessive delusion that shall soon enough be cured by marriage.”
Darcy very much looked forward to wedding his lovely fiancée and proving James wrong; and so he argued, “A man is incomplete until he marries.”
The Viscount slapped his palm on the table, winced, and cried, “Absolutely! For then he is quite finished! Have you not heard An Ode to Marriage? He goes to a-dore. He rings the belle. He gives his name to a maid, and he is taken in.”
Darcy rolled his eyes and said, “I am truly sorry you are unhappy, cousin. Having often witnessed the sharp words you have spoken to your wife, I actually pity … ”
“Yes, yes! My words have to be sharp. It is the only way to get them in edgeways when that piece of baggage is raising a breeze. Excuse me, I am unwell.” He quickly scraped back his chair and fled the room to kneel and pay homage once again at his porcelain altar.
Fitz shook his head as he watched his unfortunate brother stumble from the room. “Poor James. He has made his bed, now he must lie in it.”
Darcy calmly buttered a muffin and added, “Yes, when he married Isabelle, he increased his lie-ability.”
“Ha! Someone here has been spending too much time with a certain family fond of wordplay. Speaking of our future in-laws, after last night’s … state of affairs, I am uncertain of my reception in their home. I shall have to meet soon enough with Mr. Bennet to discuss a settlement. Still and all, what Jane and I really need right now is a chance for a lengthy, private conversation about our future together. Since I do not believe Jane’s parents trust me so far as they could throw me, perhaps it would be best if you suggest a joint walk in the park with our lovely brides-to-be.”
“Just what was the state of affairs to which you refer? Despite what you told Bingley in the library last night, I had not an inkling any attachment or understanding had been formed between you and Miss Bennet until the announcement of your rather sudden engagement.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair and refused to meet the other man’s eye. Darcy set his knife down, wiped buttery fingers on a napkin, and glared at his cousin. “Richard, please do not tell me you acted in an ungentlemanly manner toward my virtuous future sister.”
“Fine, I will not tell you. I must admit I obviously not only lost my heart to Jane Bennet but apparently my head as well. She is … ” Darcy smirked at the lovesick expression on heroic Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam’s face and hoped his own countenance never showed such sappy emotion. “ … absolutely intoxicating. Not only is my Jane beautiful, kind, warm, serene, and generous; behind that demure surface, she is also rather brazen, has a diverting sense of humour, and is quite … passionate.” At Darcy’s look of alarm, Fitz’s infatuation gave way to sheepishness as he continued, “We were delightfully and obliviously engaged in a rather erotic kiss when Aunt Anne, Anna, and Anne unfortunately happened upon us. I had a fine peal rung over me by my father, then Mr. and Mrs. Bennet arrived, and subsequently Jane and I became … otherwise engaged as well.”
At once both appalled and envious, Darcy wondered if his Elizabeth might be receptive to an amorous kiss. He was quite confident she also had a passionate nature but was uncertain if she would be willing to allow him a taste of it before their wedding.
“Well, once again, please accept my congratulations, Fitz. I obviously do not need to tell you Miss Bennet is a lovely woman. In fact, I am not sure you deserve such a treasure. Although it is certainly none of my business, do you regret being forced to marry her?”
“Good God, man! No, of course not! I was first attracted to her beauty and gentle nature at Pemberley. Back then I assumed Bingley and Miss Bennet had fallen in love at first sight. Since I, being a second son and soldier, had less to offer her than our infatuated friend, I stepped aside. When I later came to realize she admired me, I feared it might only be the uniform that attracted her regard. I was wrong. We are not being forced to wed. We are in l-l-l- … ” The fearless soldier gulped and turned red. “ … in l-l-l … We are, in l-l-light of the situation, very fortunate to feel as we do for one another; and the engagement is very much to our mutual satisfaction.”
Darcy smirked and said, “Yes, well, thank you for (ahem) en-l-l-lightening me. Now, eat something. I wish to be underway as soon as possible, and I will suggest a walk in the park. As much as I enjoy their company, I also look forward to some time with Elizabeth away from the rest of her family. Being with her is, well, a walk in the park, a piece of cake, easy as pie … ”
“Enough! I am hungry and suddenly crave something sweet.”
“Shall we have the carriage brought ’round, then?”
Fitz nodded. The two young men grabbed some pastries and scarfed them down on their way to visit two sweet ladies at the Bennet townhouse.
Because of the lateness of the hour – or earliness, depending on how you looked at it, as dawn had been fast approaching when Mr. and Mrs. Bennet escorted their two eldest daughters home from Matlock Manor – there had not been much discussion in the carriage. That would come later, especially for Jane. The four rang for their servants to help them undress, tumbled into bed, and slept fitfully for about five hours. The day of reckoning dawned for Jane before breakfast when she was summoned to her mother’s private sitting room.
“Jane, come have a seat here.” The woman patted the settee beside her. “I wish to speak with you regarding your unbecoming conduct last night.”
The young woman sighed, bowed her head, and contritely said, “Yes, Mama. Again, I am truly sorry for causing so much turmoil.”
When Jane sat next to her, Mrs. Bennet reached for her hand and held it for the duration of their conversation. “It is all water under the bridge now, my dear. Still, I want to discuss how you feel about the consequences of your reckless actions. You know your father and I always wished for you to enter into marriage only for the right reason. So tell me, have you actually formed an attachment with Colonel Fitzwilliam so quickly?”
Jane raised her head and smiled brightly. “Oh, yes, Mama! I have admired his character and appearance for some time now. But last night, Richard and I felt an immediate attachment.”
Her mother frowned, but her tone was mildly teasing. “Yes, I heard about your attachment … at the lips and several other points of contact, I believe.”
Jane coloured and said, “I apologize for such abandoned behaviour. As was earlier explained to Lord Matlock, Papa, and you … Richard and I simply … collided. Once I was in his arms, oh Mama, I never wanted to leave. I cannot explain the way he makes me feel.”
“Believe me, Jane, I understand completely. Your father and I were young once, you know; and it appears the apple does not fall far from the tree.”
“Mother!”
“Just be careful, my dear. Your handsome Colonel has spent time on the Continent, you know.”
Jane knitted her brows. “What in the world are you implying?”
“Well, Richard Cosmo Fitzwilliam is … cosmopolitan.” She leaned in and whispered, “He is a man of the world and may have Roman hands and Russian fingers. You may be tempted to anticipate your vows.”
“Oh, Mama, really!”
“Very well, I will say no more at present. We will have a further talk before the wedding. In the meantime, I just need to know if you have agreed to enter into this marriage willingly.”
“I truly do love Richard; and, despite his career, we will be very happy together. Please do not worry about me. I have every reason to believe he and I will have a loving relationship like you and Papa share, which is everything I have ever wanted.”
Mrs. Bennet kissed her daughter’s cheek and smiled. “Then I am very happy for you, indeed. Your father and I were very fortunate to have found one another.” She patted Jane’s hand, still held in her own. “I shall not worry. Worry causes falling hair; and when the going gets tough, the tufts get going. Now, are you ready to get going and face your father and siblings at the breakfast table?”
When the two women joined the others, Mr. Bennet lowered his newspaper, looked over the top of his spectacles, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Ah, there you are, Mrs. Fitzwilliam-to-be. You, my dear, are marrying into quite a family. Come have a seat and prepare to be diverted by some gossip in an article on the society page. Listen to this: ‘Marriage Mania, Midnight Madness & Immoral Missteps at Mayhem Manor ~ The town is in an absolute uproar the day after a ball given by a member of the Peerage; and the Marriage Mart has suddenly been deprived of three of the country’s most eligible bachelors as well as three very beautiful, young, and nubile women..’”
“Papa?”
“Yes, Lydia?”
“What does new-bile mean?”
“Nubile means … ah … ask your mother.”
“Mama?”
Mrs. Bennet scowled at her husband and replied, “It means marriageable … among other things. That definition will suffice for now. Continue, my dear Mr. Bennet. You read uncommonly well. Still and all, perhaps you could censor further descriptive words deemed inappropriate for young ears.”
“Thank you, Fanny. I suppose I deserve such praise as well as such censure. Where was I? Ah, yes. ‘Parents of le bon ton are bemoaning the significant loss of six desirable matches for their sons and daughters after the announcement of a trio of upcoming weddings. One very disgruntled matron complained the few families involved were being rather selfish by snatching up so many desirable young partners.’”
“Papa?”
“Yes, Lydia?”
“If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?”
“Perhaps you should ask the aforementioned miffed matron. Were she a male I am sure she would be a boorish, boring boar. Now, here is where it becomes interesting. We learn the identities of the eligible bachelors and beautiful maidens. ‘The ball’s two hosting families have, indeed, secured enviable brides and a bridegroom to add to their already illustrious bloodlines. A wealthy young landowner from northern Derbyshire has used his time wisely and won the hand of the eldest daughter of an eminent family from that same county; that young lady’s handsome elder brother, heir to their vast estates, has become betrothed to a Hertfordshire beauty; and that woman’s lovely sister is engaged to a dashing Colonel, the second son of an Earl.
As was hinted by one of the hosts during the ball, perhaps there was something potent in last night’s wine; and that must also be the reason the evening concluded in such a shocking manner. No mere outmoded minuet was danced last night at Immorality Manor; instead many couples, both married and, more alarmingly, single, dared to defy propriety by embracing in public for the wicked waltz. The patronesses of Almack’s are scandalized as are many of the haut ton who had not been invited to the controversial ball. Imagine! A dance in which members of the opposite sex face one another and the man places his hand on the lady’s waist. Shocking! Had not the majority of Polite Society been in attendance, one might wonder at such debauchery.’”
The family started to speak all at once until silenced by an announcement that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had come to call on their fiancées. Both gentlemen were welcomed warmly, much to the Colonel’s relief; and they were invited to join the Bennets while they finished breakfast. The visitors gratefully tucked into a fresh batch of currant scones and washed them down with fragrant coffee while Mr. Bennet continued to read articles from the newspaper.
“Well, it is a coincidence we are enjoying these scrumptious scones. Here is a story about a landlady, Mrs. Lottie Lyes, who had a couple of struggling poets for tenants. The poor fellows got behind in their rent; and when the landlady was unable to have them evicted, she decided to do away with the purse-pinched versifiers. The awful woman baked a large scone laced with arsenic, invited the rhymesters down to her parlour, and served each chap a cup of tea and half a scone. The poison worked as advertised; but, of course, crime does not pay. Mrs. Lyes was soon afterward arrested, and at the trial she pled innocent to the charge of killing two bards with one scone.”
Mrs. Bennet gently chided her husband. “My dear, I never quite know whether or not to believe half the things you read aloud. Colonel, I assure you the scones you are now eyeing rather suspiciously are quite safe. Mr. Darcy, I hope you will not change your mind about marrying Lizzy; yet I feel it is my duty to warn you she does take after her father. And Robert, darling, why are you now diligently picking the currants out of your scone?”
“I think these are arse-nits, Mama.”
“Oh, Robert! Eew!” Disgusted and disgruntled, Catherine Bennet threw her half-eaten scone back onto her plate.
Mrs. Bennet smiled apologetically at her guests and said, “Poppet, you can stop nit-picking. These scones do not have any arsenic. Perhaps you should eat your Jam Roly-Poly now instead, dear. Mr. Bennet, please kindly refrain from reading such thought-provoking news whilst we are eating a meal.”
Catherine asked to be excused, as she had suddenly lost her appetite. Her father, who had just taken a mouthful of his own Jam Roly-Poly, agreed with her and said, “That is one way of pudding it, Kitty.” Of course, he who talks with his mouth full is speaking in-gest.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who wanted to be alone with nubile Jane, prodded his cousin, who was seated across the table, by kicking him on the shin. When that did not have the desired effect, he caught Darcy’s eye and winked at him for a considerable time, without making any impression. The other gentleman was preoccupied with thoughts of stealing a kiss from nubile Elizabeth. When at last Darcy did observe his cousin, he very innocently asked, “What is the matter with your eye, Fitz? For what purpose do you keep winking at me? What am I to do?”
“Nothing, Darce, nothing at all. And I most certainly did not wink at you. Why would I wink at my oblivious and obtuse male cousin?” He then sat still five minutes longer; but, unable to waste such a precious occasion, the Colonel suddenly proposed their walking out. Mr. Bennet had paperwork to attend, Mrs. Bennet was not in the habit of walking, and Mary reluctantly could never spare time from her studies; however, the others agreed an outing to the nearby public garden would be quite a pleasant way to spend the morning after the night before.
Mrs. Bennet rang for Alice and Miss Edwards to accompany the children; and her husband also ordered Baines, one of the footmen, to go with the party. I was your age once, young men; and I would be foolish to trust you alone with my precious daughters before they actually become your wives. Three children, a governess, a nursery maid, and one footman should be sufficient chaperones to keep the four of you out of mischief.
The ten-person entourage that set off for the park was of a far greater size, by about six people, than Colonel Fitzwilliam had envisioned; however, he decided to make the best of it and gallantly offered his arm to his fiancée. The smitten couple whispered, lagged behind, and tried to allow the others to outstrip them; yet one of the servants always waited patiently. The officer and his lady then increased their pace and attempted to outdistance the rest of the group. In vain had they hastened, for Baines, the long-legged footman, with his gangly, ungainly gait, made a gain upon them in the lane and proved to be the bane of Jane.
She hissed, “Fitz, I insist we persist. I have missed being kissed and shall enlist my sis to assist with our tryst.”
The Colonel caressed her gloved hand as he spoke in an undertone. “Baines will not be dismissed, but a well-placed fist might make him desist. Thunder and turf! What you have done to this soldier, my dear? It is obvious I am quite violently in love!”
“Richard, that expression, ‘violently in love’, is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings that arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance as to a real, strong attachment.”
He stopped, turned to face her, and gazed passionately into her eyes. “My lovely Miss Bennet, if we ever manage to evade our chaperones, you will be kissed with such a real, strong attachment it will leave very little doubt about the undeniable violence of my love.”
Jane blushed but continued to look him in the eye. “Sir, I do admire your single-mindedness, constancy, and uniformity.”
“Aha! So it was, indeed, my uniform that initially attracted you.”
“Not at all, Colonel. I have this clinging memory you were not, in fact, wearing your red coat when we first met.”
“How then did it begin? I can comprehend your going on charmingly when you had once made a beginning, but what could set you off in the first place?”
Jane lowered her gaze to his chest, and the flush spread to her own. “I … I dare not make such a confession. Pray, do not ask me.”
“Hmm. So shy, demure Jane has suddenly returned, I see. Miss Bennet, I am a military man who has ways to make people give up their confidences. Be forewarned, I am determined to solve this enigma; however, I will not force the issue now. But this deep, dark secret of yours shall be revealed in time. Perhaps I shall have to kiss it out of you. Good God, you were correct. I do, indeed, have an idée fixe.”
“Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir; and that fixation is one of the many, many things I admire and love about you.”
The happiness which her reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do while being chaperoned by his cousin, three of his fiancée’s sisters, a three-year-old boy, a governess, a nursery maid, and a gangly footman.
The public garden near the Bennet townhouse was neither as large nor popular as Hyde Park; still, it was a favourite promenade for the fashionable people in the neighbourhood. Its ornate wrought-iron fence and gated entrance surrounded lush lawns, massive hardwoods, coniferous and fruit trees, shrubs, flowerbeds, vegetable plots, fountains, and statues. There was a large pond in the middle of the park with a bridge leading to a small island, upon which sat a music pavilion. Carriages were not permitted, and the garden provided a tranquil atmosphere amidst the bustle of the city. As the group of ten entered the park, the children hurried to the designated play lawn, which they knew had an excellent area especially marked for playing marbles.
In another part of town, a visitor who had already lost most of her marbles paid a call at Matlock Manor. The Earl was informed his unexpected guest was waiting in the sitting room. The nobleman took a deep, steadying breath and said a silent little prayer before he entered to greet his ignoble, ignorant, and ignominious sister.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the elder of the three Fitzwilliam siblings; and, to the detriment of her considerable vanity, it showed. The Earl of Matlock and Lady Anne Darcy were still quite handsome despite their mid-life status; however, their older sister had not aged as gracefully. Catherine had always been a self-righteous, conceited woman; and she loathed the crows’ feet and other wrinkles that seemed to multiply daily on her hollow-cheeked face.
She had been as blonde as her sister, Anne, as a child; but to Catherine’s disgust, her hair had become quite lacklustre and mousy when she reached adolescence. This affront crimped her style, and an unfortunate maid tried to help by giving her a fashionable cut; but hell hath no fury as a woman shorn. Not someone to tangle with, Lady Catherine gave her servant the brush off; and the two parted ways. Although she at first hated the new short style, it soon grew on her. Lady Catherine had then attempted to lighten her locks by drenching them with a harsh solution of potassium lye, which she learned Parisian ladies had been doing. Years later, when the first strands of grey had the audacity to appear, Lady Catherine thought she would dye. Instead, she got to the root of the problem; and the offensive items were immediately plucked from her head. Initially she worried about going bald; yet, for every one painfully pulled, three more colourless, wiry ones seemed to sprout. Therefore, she stopped pulling her hair out. The colour, she proclaimed, was thereafter to be referred to as ‘platinum;’ and woe betide the poor soul who dared call it grey.
Although she was quite spry, Lady Catherine walked with an elaborately carved cane. The item was useful as a weapon with which to poke and prod people, and she brandished it expertly. The woman was nearly as tall as her brother but had a more bony build, which she continued to clothe in black bombazine despite the fact Sir Lewis de Bourgh had been dead more than ten years. Always a bit touched in the upper works, the death of Lady Catherine’s husband intensified her peculiar outlook on life; and so she continued to willingly wear the widow’s willow. Her only concessions to fashion were the outlandish lifeless birds, freakish feathers, and peculiar plumes her bizarre bonnets oft-times flaunted.
“Good afternoon, sister dear. What brings you to London? Surely you have not come all the way from Kent simply for a friendly visit. In fact, I do not believe you have ever done such a civil thing in your life as pay someone that sort of courtesy.”
“Where is my daughter, Henry?”
“I was not aware you had a daughter by the name of Henry. Surely, you are not addressing me in such a familiar manner.”
“Oh, get stuffed, brother! And stop calling me Shirley. Where is Anne?”
“Which Anne? If you mean our lovely sister, I imagine she is at her home. I have not seen her since the ball.”
“A ball do you call it? By all accounts, you should more accurately describe last night’s event as a disgusting and distasteful den of debauchery, deviance, dissipation, degeneracy, and depravity. Why was I not invited? If I find out, however, that my Anne was in attendance at such an orgy, there will be the devil to pay. Heaven and earth, Henry! Of what were you thinking?”
“Just now I was thinking you, madam, are demented, deranged, and disturbed.”
“I am most decidedly disturbed, distressed, distraught, and dismayed by all this corruption. I demand you tell me at once! Where is my daughter?”
“You may ask questions which I shall choose not to answer, and that was one of them.”
“This is not to be borne, you egregious earl! You cannot keep me from my own flesh and blood. Nevertheless, that is not the sole reason for my visit. I insist on being satisfied, and you can be at no loss to understand the reason of my journey hither. A report of a most alarming nature reached me via the newspaper this morning. I learned, in addition to having the gall to introduce the wicked waltz last night, it was announced your son, our nephew, and our niece are all engaged to be married. I know the rumours must be scandalous falsehoods, yet I instantly resolved on setting off to Town to insist upon having these reports universally contradicted and retracted in the papers.”
“Catherine, the reports are not merely gossip. Richard, Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana are, indeed, quite happily betrothed.”
“No! A match between Darcy and this Hertfordshire hussy can never take place. Pemberley’s heir is engaged to Anne. They are both descended from our noble line, Henry. We must keep all that splendid Darcy fortune in the family.”
“When will you cast aside unmitigated avarice for the Darcy fortune and irrational jealousy of your own sister? For once and for all, Anne did not steal George away from you. He has always been a perfectionist and recognized your flaws upon first acquaintance. Pemberley and the other Darcy estates and wealth are lost to you just as surely as Rosings will be because of Lewis’ will. Perhaps instead of a match between Anne and Fitzwilliam, you more wisely should have promoted one for her with Richard. Nevertheless, have no fear, Catherine. My second son is a generous man and will, no doubt, allow you to live in the dower house when he inherits Rosings on the eight-and-twentieth anniversary of his birth. By the way, since that day quickly approaches and he is now engaged, we should inform him of the legacy. It is, indeed, unfortunate Lewis died before you could produce a male heir; even so, you shall certainly not be cast out into the hedgerows. Of course, this is all speculation on my part and contingent on your behaviour over the next few months. I have been in favour of committing you to Bedlam each time you have one of your episodes, although the rest of the family has strongly objected to such harsh treatment. Behave yourself, and you may be allowed to stay out of the asylum; the decision is yours, sister dear.”
“You would not dare be so cruel and callous to your own sibling. In any event, Henry … What in perdition’s pit was that?”
“What was what? Are you hallucinating again, Catherine? Do you see pink elephants?”
“No. That. It sounds like laughter … Anne’s laughter! To what wickedness is my daughter now being exposed in this unholy, heathen house of hedonism?”
Lady Catherine de Bourgh stormed off and followed the sound of female giggles and male guffaws to the drawing room, where she was horrified to find Anne and an unknown young man sitting together on a sofa. Her daughter’s companion, the elderly Mrs. Ann Teak, quietly sewed in a corner and was overlooked by the enraged woman. Anne and Bingley abruptly stopped laughing upon Lady Catherine’s sudden appearance; and the gentleman stood, then quickly stepped back as far as the sofa would allow when the harridan advanced upon him and flailed her deadly looking cane in his direction.
Ann Teak made her presence known, but Lady Catherine was not placated. “Mrs. Teak, you are dismissed. Permanently. Anne, go pack your belongings immediately.” The walking stick was held against Bingley’s chest as she addressed him. “And you, whoever you are, how dare you have designs on Miss Anne de Bourgh of Rosings Park. Well, speak, man. Who are you?”
“Ma’am, I am Charles Bing … ”
“Mr. Bing, do you know who I am? I am Anne’s mother and am, therefore, entitled to know every teeny-tiny, minuscule detail of her life. Now, who are you, and what are your intentions?”
“Mother, please allow me to introdu … ”
“Anne, are you still here? What did I just tell you to do?”
“Well, if you cannot remember, I do not believe I should have to tell you.”
“Obstinate, headstrong girl! Who is this male person?”
“Mother, this is Mr. Charles Bing … ”
“Yes, yes! You have both now told me his name. Be that as it may, who are you, Charles Bing? Who are your parents, uncles, and aunts? What are your bloodlines, wealth, and connections? What is your business here? Let me be rightly understood, Mr. Bing. If you dare have the presumption to aspire to a match with my daughter, I must tell you such an understanding can never take place. No, never! Contrary to popular belief,” continued the contrary harridan, “Anne is engaged to my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now what have you to say?”
Charles desperately tried to remember all the questions fired at him but was saved from having to say anything by the arrival of Miss de Bourgh’s uncle. The Earl of Matlock informed his sister that Mr. Bingley was a guest in his home and had been so on numerous occasions, as he was Richard’s good friend. He then asked her to kindly refrain from further interrogation of the chap and inquired if she needed to be escorted to her carriage.
Anne saw the terrible transformation begin when her mother’s face contorted with anger; and the fast-thinking young woman grabbed Bingley’s hands, placed them over his innocent ears, and held them in place as Lady Catherine de Bourgh began to cuss like a sailor. Her profanity continued until she was all s-worn out, had worn out her welcome, and was escorted to her waiting carriage.
“It hardly seemr,s fai Elizabeth,” said Darcy petulantly. “Fitz and your sister only have one chaperone while we have five. Tell me, have you heard the expression ‘two’s company, three’s a crowd?’”
She nodded.
“Well, what is four and five?”
“Nine?”
“Actually, I believe ‘four’s too many, and five’s not allowed.’”
“Well, sir, do you know why six was afraid of seven?”
“No. But I wager you are just itching to tell me.”
“Six was afraid of seven, because seven eight nine.” Darcy looked serious, so Lizzy rolled her eyes and explained. “Seven ate nine, as in consumed, devoured, partook of … Oh, my! I suddenly feel like Little Red Riding Hood. Why are you staring at me in such a wolfish manner, sir?”
“What fine eyes you have, Elizabeth.”
“All the better to see you with, Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy is your father-in-law-to-be. Will you not call me Fitzwilliam when we are alone?”
“With five chaperones, we are hardly alone, Fitzwilliam.”
He glanced at the others, noticed they were all engrossed in the game of marbles, and took advantage of the opportunity to move closer to Elizabeth on the park bench. Darcy slid his arm along the top of the seat behind her and contemplated pulling her into an embrace and stealing a kiss. He was just gathering enough courage to make a move when they were startled by cries of alarm from the children, and they hurried over to the grassy field where Kitty, Lydia, and Robert had been playing under the watchful eyes of Alice and Baines. One of Kitty’s marbles had rolled far out of bounds; and when Elizabeth and Darcy reached the others, they saw with dismay Lydia had discovered a dead sparrow. The little girl was kneeling by the body of the bird; she lifted teary eyes, looked at the gentleman and asked, “What happened to it, sir?”
Darcy squatted down to the little girl’s level and explained the sparrow had died and gone to heaven. Robert ran to Darcy, climbed onto his knee, almost threw the man off balance, and raised his arms to be picked up. When Darcy complied, Robert asked, “Did God throw the birdie back down, Mither Darthy?”
One advantage of not having animals in the house was the Bennet children had not suffered the loss of a beloved pet. Darcy had experienced such heartbreak more than once; so, as his mother had done for him, he explained it as best as he could to the youngsters. “Death is a part of life, and most animals have a shorter lifespan than humans.” He said the sparrow was probably old or ill and no longer needed its earthly body. Darcy then suggested they bury the bird in the woods and sent Baines off to find an implement with which to dig a small hole.
While they waited for the footman, Robert was a source of nonstop questions. “Will he be happy in heaven? Will he fly around again there? Will he meet God? Will he be with other sparrows? Will he find something to eat when he gets hungry? Will he sleep on a cloud?” When Kitty suggested a name be chosen for the poor creature before it was buried, Darcy decided ‘Willie’ would be a good choice; and the others agreed.
When the deed was done and an improvised eulogy delivered by Kitty, Robert was instructed to gently refill the hole with soil. Darcy crafted a cross from two twigs bound into formation with long blades of grass, and he placed it into the ground at the head of the grave. At his suggestion, Lydia picked flowers and added them to the memorial; Darcy kindly did not mention they were weeds that made him sneeze. Elizabeth hugged her siblings and needlessly worried they might be upset for quite some time; however, the children soon completely forgot the incident and skipped away to return to their game of marbles.
“Mr. Darcy, I mean Fitzwilliam, you will make a very fine father some day.”
“Am I so trans-parent, Elizabeth?” He smiled and kissed her hand. “If our children are as adorable as your brother and sisters, my love, we shall be blessed. I very much look forward to experiencing parenthood with you, for I know you will be an absolutely perfect mother.” They stood toe-to-toe, looking into each other’s eyes, and envisioned their future together until Baines cleared his throat and Alice suggested the children move along to the pond to feed ducks and geese.
The servants had each been given strict orders not to allow the two couples any time alone. Miss Edwards had assumed the duty of chaperoning Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane, who had decided to take a stroll. The governess trailed along behind as the engaged couple led her along the garden path.
“Achoo! Oh, Miss Edwards, I have foolishly forgotten to put a handkerchief in my reticule. Would you please return to my sister and ask if she has a spare one I may borrow?”
Although young, the governess was not born yesterday. “There is no need, Miss Bennet. I have a clean one right here.” She handed a prettily embroidered linen cloth to the unappreciative other lady.
Jane rolled her eyes at her fiancé. “Thank you, Miss Edwards. Oh, look! Perhaps Kitty, Lydia, and Robert would care to join us, for I see there is a puppet booth set up on the other side of the pond.” Jane pointed across the water to where children were sitting on the grass, laughing at the antics of Punch and Judy. “It would be a shame for my sisters and brother to miss the show. Please fetch them, Miss Edwards. The Colonel and I will wait right here for you.” Jane smiled sweetly, and the governess could not believe the angelic Miss Bennet would allow any impropriety to occur in the short time it would take to follow orders. She gave a quick curtsey and hurried away.
Richard Fitzwilliam did not take time to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was more interested in much, much sweeter lips. “I have always appreciated a good Punch and Judy skit; yet, strangely enough, today I do not care for such entertainment. I much prefer the farce you just performed, Jane. Will you walk with me off the beaten path?”
Jane was a bit skittish. “But, sir, I told Miss Edwards we would wait right here. Truly, it was not pretence. I do want my sisters and brother to enjoy the puppets.”
“As do I. However, we can just take a short jaunt through these trees and return before the others arrive. Dearest, I will not act against your wishes. The decision is yours. We will remain rooted to this very spot if that is what you desire.”
Jane considered her options for a moment; still and all, what she desired was looking at her so disarmingly, she could not resist. “Very well. But just for a brief duration. We must be back here prior to the rest of our party.”
Richard grinned, snatched her hand, and pulled her off the path behind a thicket of evergreen trees. The two wasted no time but did lose track of it.
Because the others were headed toward the pond anyway, Miss Edwards soon met them on the path. Alice was concerned and drew her aside to inquire why Martha had abandoned her post as chaperone. The governess assured her the couple would be the epitome of propriety and would be found waiting out in the open by the pond exactly where she left them.
When the three children heard about the puppet theatre, Lydia and Robert ran off in different directions to get around the water, eager to not miss another minute of the show. The little boy had not gotten far before he fell and scraped his knee on the gravel; and Alice immediately hastened to care for her charge while Baines and Kitty chased after Lydia, and the governess anxiously hurried back to her chaperoning duty.
Elizabeth made sure her brother was not seriously injured and agreed when Alice decided it would be best to take the sobbing toddler home. Darcy volunteered to carry Robert, but the nursemaid assured him she was used to lifting the poppet. In her concern for the child, she did not give a second thought to leaving the lovers alone.
The gentleman turned to his beloved and said, “Well, Elizabeth, it seems I am to once again enjoy the privilege of your exclusive company. When last we were alone, you accepted my proposal; so I wonder to what you might agree this time.” Perchance, a kiss on your luscious lips?
“Do you have something specific in mind, perhaps, sir?” Perchance, a kiss on my receptive lips?
“Indeed I do have a goal in mind, madam.” He slowly raised her hand to his lips but did not stop looking into the windows to her soul. Elizabeth’s heart rate increased as Darcy kissed her knuckles, her palm, and then peeled back a bit of her glove to touch his lips to her racing pulse. She tore her gaze away from his intense regard and rather breathlessly asked, “Have you reached your goal yet, sir?”
“Not yet, Elizabeth, but I am getting warmer.”
As am I. “Fitzwilliam, we cannot possibly continue in this manner on a public path. As much as I am enjoying your … oh! … touching attentions, I must beg you to stop.” Oh, do be quiet, Lizzy!
“I am sorry, love. I did not intend to make you uneasy, and you are quite correct.” Darcy gently tugged her glove into place. “Please forgive me.” He was about to offer his arm when he was distracted by three young lads as they chased a small creature through the trees just off to the left of the path. “Here! What are you boys about? Leave off at once! Excuse me, my dear, but I must investigate.”
His long strides soon gained on the youths, and Darcy was angered to discover they were after a kitten. The small ginger cat had taken refuge in an oak tree, and two of the boys threw twigs at it to make it come down while the other gripped a low branch and attempted to climb after the feline.
“Leave off, I said!” Fitzwilliam Darcy was a tall, formidable man and could be quite intimidating when he set his mind to it. The boys took one look at his menacing approach, ditched their plan, and fled the scene of the crime. The gentleman was incensed by such mistreatment of an animal but decided not to give pursuit, as he was more concerned for the welfare of the kitten.
Martha Edwards hastened to the place where Miss Bennet should have been waiting with her handsome officer. She glanced to the left, ahead, and across the pond; but the affianced couple was nowhere to be seen. The governess stomped her foot in frustration at quite literally being led along the garden path by the innocent-looking eldest daughter of her employers. When Miss Edwards looked behind, she saw Baines, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia approaching. Not wanting to alarm the girls, she explained the situation to the footman in a low, urgent voice.
Baines was aghast. “Miss Edwards, I am shocked. But is a tryst certain, absolutely certain?”
“Well, no. Nonetheless, I do suspect they have made a May game of me. How are they to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is in every way horrible, and I shall surely be dismissed.”
The footman shook his head in silent acquiescence and made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her and was walking up and down the path in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, and his air gloomy. His position was on the line as well, for he had been entrusted with guarding the reputations of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. Miss Elizabeth!! He swivelled his head around in search of her pretty face, chestnut hair, deep red pelisse, and matching bonnet. “Miss Edwards, where are Miss Elizabeth and her young gentleman?”
“Baines! I thought they were with you! Please do not tell me we have lost both young ladies we were ordered to protect!”
Elizabeth had followed her fiancé off the path and found him pacing back and forth, raking his fingers through his hair, and peering up into the tree. He was distracted from the plaintive mewling of the stranded creature by a twig that snapped as Elizabeth approached. He startled and said, “Ah, Elizabeth. My dear, would you mind very much if I remove my coat? I will attempt a rescue but know from past experience a tight coat can be quite constrictive during such an activity. I know it is improper. Would you be offended?”
“Mr. Darcy, we are engaged; and you forget I have already seen you in far less.”
“Oh, God. I had forgotten. Thank you for reminding me, though. One needs a good dose of humiliation now and then.”
“You must not feel humiliated, sir. I quite enjoyed seeing you less formally attired.”
Darcy smirked and considered teasing her about ‘handsome barbarians’, but he was curious. “What really was your first impression during that encounter?”
He passed her the discarded coat, limbered up, and hefted himself onto the most easily accessible branch. The kitten stared down at him in alarm for a moment and then climbed up another level. Lizzy admired her future husband’s obvious strength as he effortlessly pulled himself higher and higher.
“Here kitty, kitty. Come on, kitty. Come here, sweetheart,” he cooed.
Elizabeth was glad Kitty was not present and also thought herself quite ridiculous for being jealous of his calling an animal ‘sweetheart’.
“I am still waiting, my love. Please answer the question about your first impression of me,” he called down.
She was mollified by the endearment. “Well, I remember thinking you were a buffoon.”
Darcy nearly lost his balance as he twisted around to glare down at his beloved tormentor. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I cannot believe you thought of me as an ass!”
Because she had been ogling a particular part of his anatomy as he climbed, the young lady lowered her gaze and blushed at being caught. When asked if his second appearance improved her opinion, she spoke honestly. “Yes. I distinctly remember admiring your rich brown hair and brazenly wondering how it would feel to run my fingers through it.”
Darcy briefly closed his eyes and imagined how it would feel. “Elizabeth, please. I am trying to concentrate on my rather precarious position here. You, my dear, are proving to be quite a distraction.” … especially since you insist on standing directly below me. Your neckline is something I can look down on and approve of at the same time.
“Speaking of precarious, Fitzwilliam, I may be going out on a limb, but I do not think it wise for you to venture onto that particular one. The branch does not seem sturdy enough to support your bulk.”
“I assure you I have rescued injured birds and stranded cats from trees more times than you could shake a stick. I certainly know what I am doing.”
“Uh, speaking of shaking a stick, the branch you are currently on is quivering in an alarming manner, sir. Please come down and allow me. I am much lighter and am also an expert tree climber.”
“Certainly not, madam! If the confounded feline would just cease climbing higher each time I ascend … here, kitty, kitty!”
CRACK!!!
“Good Lord, Fitzwilliam! Back up and get down immediately before you fall and break your neck.”
“You sound like my mother, but perhaps you are correct. This branch does not seem able to support my weight. Can you really climb trees?”
Instead of answering, the intrepid Lizzy Bennet glanced around, saw no one in their immediate vicinity, hiked up her skirt, and gracefully scaled the oak as effortlessly as had Darcy. When she reached his level, she sat on the branch beside him and met his incredulous stare with an impertinent one of her own. The sassy smirk was instantly wiped from Elizabeth’s face by the sudden, impetuous brush of his warm lips against hers. It was a quick and chaste kiss; nevertheless it left them both breathless, although Lizzy was already somewhat in that state from her ascent. Darcy pulled away to look into her face, hoping for approbation instead of apprehension. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes still closed. When she opened them, they were filled with affection and warmth. The couple ignored the mew from above and was about to kiss again; unfortunately, they could not ignore the unexpected singsong taunt from below.
“Lizzy and Darcy, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G …”
Jane admonished, “Lydia, stop that! Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, I am sorry. I thought you heard our approach; perhaps you were preoccupied. What on earth are you doing up there in that tree? Whatever your reason, I strongly suggest you come back down before Baines and Miss Edwards arrive here with Kitty. They were not far behind us.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam was enormously delighted to discover his fastidious, impeccable cousin in another pickle, especially since he had just managed to get Jane and himself out of one. Fitz considered a little white lie was merely a-version of the truth, and he had charmingly explained to Miss Edwards that they only veered off the main path because he wanted to present Jane with tulips and had not realized those particular flowers were out of season. The military man had, of course, successfully plucked the only two lips he truly sought. As the soldier watched Darcy and Miss Elizabeth both go red in the face, he gloated over having enough fodder in his haystack to needle Darcy for a month of Sundays.
Darcy’s haughty mask was in place, and he huffily said, “I will have you know that Miss Elizabeth and I are on a bona fide rescue mission up here. So, Richard, if you were about to say something derogatory, you would most certainly be barking up the wrong tree. Unfortunately, our little rescuee is a tad reluctant and has a most ungrateful cattitude.” He frowned up at the ginger ball of fluff crouched several branches away.
The Colonel volunteered some advice. “One of you needs to climb another level higher, reach up, grab onto the kitten’s limb … I mean pull down the branch, while the other one cat-ches the little fur ball.”
Lizzy protested, “But, Colonel Fitzwilliam, if the person holding down the branch loses their grip, it will spring back; and the kitten will indubitably be cat-apulted into Kent. Your suggestion has the potential to be quite a cat-astrophe, sir.”
Darcy agreed. “Elizabeth is right, Fitz. But I am curious. Do you have any other purr-fectly brilliant ideas in your military catalog of strategy for rescuing a cat on a log?”
“Ah … no. You shall just have to purr-severe, Darce; and here’s a word of warning about curiosity. They say it killed the cat, and they were not kitten.”
“Ha, bloody ha. I think … Elizabeth!!! What on earth do you think you are you doing, madam?” As Lizzy disappeared onto the branch overhead, Darcy was horrified his cousin might catch a glimpse of her ankles, calves, thighs, or … “Richard, turn around at once; and do not even glance up here again. Elizabeth!!!”
Lizzy peered down at him. “Mr. Darcy, before the others arrive we either need to abandon our mission or accomplish it. I have chosen the latter. So when I latch onto Ginger, I will gingerly pass the kitten down to you. Since you are so vastly experienced at this animal rescue business, you can carry the contrary clawed critter to the ground.”
“Ginger, Lizzy? How utterly uninspired. You, my dear sweet lady, definitely need assistance with the naming of pets.” Although he scoffed at the cat’s moniker, he agreed to her plan. Darcy scrambled to balance upright on the branch, raised his arms, and prepared to receive the kitten.
Elizabeth glanced down at her fiancé and said, “I did not realize Ginger was to actually become someone’s pet; and by all means, he does deserve a more distinguished name and a home. Be that as it may, just whose household do you intend to grace with his presence? Mama and Papa have never permitted us to have animals in our residence. Hmm, I wonder whether they are concerned about household pets taking over the world. Why the puzzled look, Mr. Darcy? Have you never heard of reigning cats and dogs?”
Lydia squealed and pointed. “Never mind, Mr. Darcy and Lizzy! The kitten has jumped down and is now running along the path. Here, kitty, kitty, here kitty!”
“I am here, Lydia. There is no need to call out in that ridiculous manner.”
Catherine Bennet gasped as she caught sight of her second eldest sister and the normally sophisticated Mr. Darcy in the oak tree. Her attention was instantly sidetracked by the arrival of Miss Edwards and Baines. One and all were amazed to witness the gangly footman as he gently cradled the little orange ball of fluff in his arms.
Darcy called down, “Baines, there is a proverb that goes, ‘You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats.’ It appears you have been favoured with the friendship of Cato, the Philosofur.”
Lydia asked, “But why did the cat suddenly jump down and run from the tree?”
“Perhaps it was afraid of the bark,” suggested Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Darcy alit from the tree and gently caught Lizzy as she leapt from a lower branch. He reluctantly released his hold on her waist, turned to his cousin, and said, “Fitz, punsters such as you deserve to be drawn and quoted.”
Lydia whispered to Kitty, “People tend to tell worse puns as they get older. That is why we call them groan-ups.”
Blissfully unaware they were soon to receive an unwelcome visitor, Mrs. Bennet and her two eldest daughters were in the sitting room of their London townhouse busily choosing ribbons, beading, and other trimmings suitable for the brides’ trousseaux. The fact that Jane and Elizabeth had made very eligible matches and were truly in love with their husbands-to-be was, of course, deeply satisfying to their mother. Most gratifying was the undeniable fact the gentlemen returned their affection tenfold. However, Mrs. Bennet realized she would be quite melancholy when it finally came time to part with her dear girls; that said, having three more daughters and a son still under her care was, in some measure, a comfort. The woman could not image how bereft she would feel when the last child had finally flown the nest.
“Mama, are you crying?” A soft voice roused Mrs. Bennet, and she suddenly realized Jane knelt in front of her and had reached to clasp her hand.
“Most certainly not, my dear. Good heavens, why would I have occasion to weep? Is this not every mother’s fondest wish … to be planning her daughter’s wedding? I have been doubly blessed with the duty of overseeing the production of not one but two trousseaux, which, of course, would be incomplete without: ‘Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls; Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in; Dresses in which to do nothing at all; Dresses for Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall.’”[2]
“Speaking of all these purchases of attire, it is fortunate Papa’s own clothing has rather deep pockets,” said Lizzy.
A modiste in the city was already at work on the young ladies’ wedding clothes. When she had been needled for a completion date, the woman had hemmed and hawed before replying. “I am only doing sew-sew. I toile day and night, and eye-let my assistant, Velvet, do the crewel embroidery work. But the darn thread, together with the tight fit of the bodices, causes much seam-stress. I will not embellish the truth but must tack on a few extra days. So awl things considered, I have a notion you may pin your hopes on the garments being ready five days before the wedding.” The Bennet ladies had quickly cott-on to the dressmaker’s wordplay; and, without bias, they baste their trust on Mrs. Lovelace and Velvet.
Cato the Philoso-fur was quite comfortably curled up into a cozy little orange ball on Mrs. Bennet’s lap. Initially, the lady had flatly refused to allow the kitten admittance into the townhouse; nevertheless, she had been sweet-talked and cajoled, mostly by her handsome sons-in-law-to-be, into allowing the feline into her home. Almost immediately, the little cat had also worked its way into the woman’s heart; and the two had become inseparable, except when her three-year-old son was in the vicinity. On those occasions the cat became as nervous as, well, a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It was not because Robert was cruel; in fact, the boy loved the purring pet so much, he showered it with hugs and kisses. Robert had been instructed to hold the kitten gently, but the reluctant and squirming Cato’s philosophy differed from what the tot had been taught regarding the difference between gentle and taut.
The day Cato had first been introduced into the household, Mr. Darcy had picked him up and taken a look beneath its tail to confirm the kitten was, indeed, a male. The next morning, Lizzy had happened upon Lydia and Robert kneeling on the floor, struggling to inspect the poor cat’s belly. When asked what they were about, Lydia answered, “Well, Mr. Darcy picked Cato up, looked underneath, and then told us it was a boy. It must be written here somewhere, though I cannot find it.” Lizzy opened her mouth to explain but was gratefully spared when she glimpsed her father about to enter his study. “Papa, would you please come here? The inquisitive minds of your youngest children need some direction. Please excuse me. I am in a hurry to foist upon myself yet another painful bout of writer’s cramp. Being betrothed to the cream of the crop of la crème de la crème has some drawbacks. All the same, there is no use crying over spilt milk, so I am off to answer more letters of congratulations.”
Mr. Bennet was finally reconciled to losing Lizzy and Jane, yet not to Cato’s status as a permanent fixture in his house. The critter had hissed at him upon first acquaintance, scratched his arm when he benevolently tried to pet its head, and bit the hand that fed it when he had tried, the previous night, to evict the little cat from its place on the bed next to his wife. Thanks to Lizzy’s talk of dairy, her father was able to evade the risk of further feline-inflicted affliction as well as the need to point out the pet’s private parts to his progeny. His suggestion Cato might care for a saucer of cream was met with enthusiasm, so Lydia and Robert scampered off to the kitchen while the liberated kitten scurried in the opposite direction. Quite proud of his resourcefulness, Mr. Bennet smiled smugly as he returned to his den. The self-satisfied smirk was quickly wiped from his face when he discovered Cato had taken shelter in the gentleman’s own private lair, and Thomas Bennet could have sworn the creature was grinning back at him, snug as a bug in a rug, from behind the desk in the comfort of his own favourite chair.
The prospect of a northern journey buoyed Caroline Bingley’s sinking spirits to a certain extent; nonetheless, she dragged her feet up the front steps to the Bennet townhouse. Having just eaten a generous portion of humble pie with the upper crust’s Georgiana Darcy, the young woman did not have much appetite left for eating crow in front of Eliza Bennet. Saying she was sorry was certainly not Caroline’s cup of tea, and she did not want to end up with egg on her face. But a promise had been made to Charles, and she was determined to dispense with the unpleasantness of another apology and depart for Staffordshire with a clear conscience instead of being left to stew in her own juices.
The sitting room discussion of buttons, bows, and beaux was interrupted when Sharp announced Miss Bingley had arrived to visit with Miss Elizabeth. The three women rolled their eyes, and Lizzy asked the footman to bring her guest to them. After greeting the visitor, Mrs. Bennet took her leave. Caroline admired Cato’s beautiful gingery-orange coat as it followed its mistress from the room. Refreshments were ordered and served along with polite chitter-chatter before Jane thought of a plausible reason to be excused in order to leave Lizzy and Miss Bingley alone.
Dressed in tangerine but green with envy, Caroline jealously eyed the swatches of fine fabric, lace, and satin ribbon. She washed away the bitter taste in her mouth with a sip of tea, attempted a bright smile, and said, “Miss Eliza-beth, please accept my best wishes. I understand you are engaged … to marry …” Her throat closed up, and the smile crumpled. She took another sip and managed to choke out, “ … Mr. Darcy. I regret I will not be available for the happy event, although I realize I would not have been invited anyway. I am departing Town soon for an extended stay in Staffordshire … at Tutbury to be exact. Charles and I have relatives there, and … ” Both Caroline and the tea ran out of steam, so she sat silently staring into her cup.
Lizzy took pity and said, “Thank you, Miss Bingley. I hope you will have a most pleasant sojourn in the Midlands. Mr. Darcy and I will be heading even farther north after our marriage, as we are to settle at his family’s estate in Northumberland. If you are ever in that part of the country, you absolutely must visit us there.” Lizzy remembered her dream of a home on a cliff where Caroline would have been welcome to drop over, and she hid a smile behind her teacup.
“You are too kind. If I were in your position … Well, that point is certainly moot. Simply allow me to say I am sorry for the cut indirect that day at Harding, Howell & Co. as well as for my cutting remarks directed at you during the Royal Academy’s art exhibit. If the awful truth must be known, I offer as an excuse my resentment of your … je ne sais quoi. You have a sparkle I totally lack and covet. I almost regret we never became friends. If we had, perhaps some of your effervescence might have rubbed off on me. Most of all, I have to admit I was foolishly jealous of the regard a certain gentleman from Derbyshire bestowed upon you. Women, myself included I confess, have been eagerly pursuing Fitzwilliam Darcy for years. But you alone apparently possess the qualities he seeks. I hope you realize how very, very fortunate you are to have secured Pemberley’s heir.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. I must say, I do not know what I did to deserve such happiness and such a wonderful man. I sincerely wish you the same felicity in making a match some day. Perhaps you will meet someone special during your stay in Staffordshire.”
Caroline doubted that would happen unless she was willing to scrape the bottom of the barrel and marry some toothless old codger who was completely bald. She could have bawled right then and there; but she balled her handkerchief into a wad and said, “Again, you are too kind. My behaviour merits the severest reproof. It was unpardonable, yet you are forgiving. However, I cannot think of my rudeness without abhorrence.”
“Pish, posh, and tish, tosh, Miss Bingley. You have, I hope, improved in civility since those occurrences; they are simply to be forgotten.”
“I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself. The recollection of what I said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of it is now, and has been many days, inexpressibly painful to me. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how my words and actions have tortured me.”
“Then you must learn some of my philosophy, which is to forgive, forget, and think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure. Say adieu to disappointment and spleen and make a fresh start in the Midlands, Miss Bingley.”
“I do hope to make some new acquaintances in Tutbury, since I have certainly lost the friends I thought I had here in Town.”
“They were not true friends if they abandoned you so quickly.” Lizzy drew her bottom lip through her teeth as she contemplated her next words. “This is rather presumptuous, but would you care to correspond with me while you are away? I will give you the directions for this address, as well as for my future residence in Northumberland, if you would like.”
For the first time, Elizabeth witnessed a genuine smile on Caroline Bingley’s face; and she was amazed at the transformation. The young woman was actually quite attractive when not sneering.
The following day Miss Bingley said a teary farewell to her brother and entered the carriage with the elderly companion Charles had hired for her. In company with Mrs. Ann Teak, who had recently left the employ of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Caroline settled in for the long journey to Staffordshire. She was completely exhausted from all the packing and apologizing. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves soon lulled her to sleep as they rode the road to the home of the Bingleys’ aunt, Mrs. Rhea Piers, and her husband, Bartlett.
London society’s gossip mill continued to churn with tittle-tattle about the Earl of Matlock’s scandalous ball and the rather sudden engagements of three members of his family. Grist for the mill was the prittle-prattle that Charles Bingley, brother to a young lady recently given the cut direct by the Earl’s wife and Darcy ladies, was courting another Fitzwilliam relative, Miss Anne de Bourgh.
Invitations to a celebratory dinner at the Darcy townhouse were as scarce as hen’s teeth and, in fact, had only been issued to members of the families involved in the betrothals, plus a few favoured kith and kin. The gathering was being held to pay tribute to the three couples and to celebrate the eight-and-twentieth anniversary of Richard Fitzwilliam’s birth. Unbeknownst to the Colonel, he would also learn of his unexpected inheritance before that evening was over.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and their eldest son, Evan, had been asked to attend the dinner; and Sir William Lucas, Lady Lucas, as well as their daughter, Charlotte, had arrived in London from Hertfordshire to stay with the Bennet family, at their request, and accompany them to the celebration.
Because none of the guilty parties involved had seen fit to inform Mr. and Mrs. Bennet of the shenanigans in the park, Miss Edwards and Baines had both been able to keep their employment. The day before the Darcy dinner, the same footman once again accompanied Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth to the park near the townhouse. However, on that occasion, Baines did not have the worry of their interaction with frustrating or frustrated fiancés. Those eager young gentlemen were meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury in order to obtain special licenses so they could marry when and where they wanted, and in two days’ time Darcy and the Colonel had appointments with Mr. Bennet and their three solicitors to hammer out details of the marriage articles.
The Misses Bennet strolled with Charlotte Lucas and informed their friend of all that had happened since her last visit. Lizzy was just about to entertain Charlotte with the story of Cato’s rescue when she espied a very familiar and handsome red-coated soldier as he approached their party. The three ladies silently admired the man of mettle as the metal of his medals and buttons gleamed in the sun. His burnished auburn hair was tied back with a leather thong, and the young army officer exuded virility. He bowed, tipped his hat, and flashed his warm, gorgeous smile. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss … Lucas, is it not? What a delightful coincidence, ladies. I was just on my way to your house to extend my best wishes. Miss Bennet, I have heard you are to marry Colonel Fitzwilliam.” His smile was not quite as radiant when he turned to her sister and said, “And Miss Elizabeth, is it true you will wed Mr. Darcy?”
“It is, indeed, Lieutenant-Colonel Dun. Our marriage will take place within the month. In fact, it will be a triple wedding shared with Jane and Mr. Darcy’s sister, who is betrothed to a Mr. Ellis Fleming.”
“Ah, well, splendid. Splendid. Please accept my sincere congratulations and best wishes on your upcoming nuptials. Miss Lucas, it is a pleasure to see you once again. Are you staying in Town for the wedding?”
“No, sir. My mother, father, and I are only here for the engagement party tomorrow evening. We will then return to Hertfordshire. Unfortunately, we are unable to travel to Derbyshire for the ceremony.”
“Derbyshire? Such a long way! Is that where you will be residing, Miss Elizabeth?”
She laughed and said, “No, Lieutenant-Colonel, my new home will be even farther away. Mr. Darcy and I are to settle at his family’s estate in Northumberland.”
“My stars and garters, how will you ever keep warm?” Lizzy turned red and wondered why people kept asking such a peculiar question. Dun realized his faux pas, apologized, and then inquired whether he might escort them back home. The ladies readily agreed, and he offered his arm to Miss Lucas.
That young woman thought she had died and gone to heaven. Charlotte had been strongly attracted to the soldier’s magnetism upon first acquaintance but knew she did not stand a chance when he only had eyes for Lizzy. With Jane’s vivacious sister off the marriage market, her own prospects looked much brighter; and she was determined to secure the Lieutenant-Colonel as soon as may be. Miss Lucas was a firm believer concealment of affection could lead to loss of opportunity; so she latched onto his arm, and her chances, with fervour. There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement, so I had better show more affection than I feel. Dun may never do more than like me if I do not help him along. I refuse to dilly-dally and shilly-shally and shall make the most of every half hour in which I can command his attention, starting right now. The thirty minute walk through the park and along the street to the Bennet doorstep was put to good use; and because Charlotte’s personality was quite similar to Elizabeth’s, Dun was quite undone, not only by her wit but also by her manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions.
When the three ladies arrived at the townhouse with the officer, they invited him in and found Mr. and Mrs. Bennet in the sitting room with Sir William and Lady Lucas. Tucked away in a corner at a small writing desk, Robert knelt on a chair and diligently scribbled on a piece of paper. His fingers were inky, the tip of his tongue was caught between his tiny teeth, and the little boy busily continued his task and ignored the room’s occupants. Charlotte introduced Dun to her parents; and when the soldier, from force of habit, took a seat near Elizabeth, Miss Lucas claimed the chair on his other side.
Jane quickly realized she had never seen a more promising inclination, for the young man was growing quite inattentive to other people and wholly engrossed by her equally besotted friend. With every minute it was more decided and remarkable, and twice Jane had spoken to them without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?
The others in the room were also exceedingly pleased with the obvious growing attachment between the two young people. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had assumed John Dun would be their son-in-law one day, had always liked the officer, and felt sorry for him when Lizzy rejected his proposal. They also had affection for Charlotte and hoped she would find the love and happiness their daughters had.
Elizabeth was in full harmony with the idea of such a dynamic duet. If she could help in any measure, she would not refrain from playing a key role in assisting the suite couple to form an a-chord in a quick tempo. Lizzy hoped they would not change their tune, that Lieutenant-Colonel Dun would start accelerando romantic overtures, and that Charlotte would not feel as though she was playing second fiddle. Perhaps Miss Lucas will soon march down the aisle toward her handsome soldier, and it will be music to my ears to hear them say ‘I will’.
Because Sir William and Lady Lucas lived in the same area of Hertfordshire as the Bennet family, they had also despaired over the dearth of eligible young gentlemen in and around Meryton. They were, therefore, hopeful; and the fact the Bennets were all quite fond of Dun spoke volumes about his character.
Is that shady character still looking for a place in the sun near Elizabeth? Son of a … gun! Get away from my loved one, Dun! Darcy and the Colonel had been shown in by Sharp, and Lizzy’s fiancé had stopped short at the sight of his former rival. He shook off his initial shock, immediately made his way to Elizabeth, kissed her hand, made sure Dun saw the proprietary gesture, and took a seat on Lizzy’s other side. The Lieutenant-Colonel, who was rather amused by the man’s possessiveness, considered tormenting Darcy but instead decided to demonstrate his good nature to Miss Lucas.
“Mr. Darcy, please accept my congratulations on having won the hand of a most remarkable woman. You are carrying away one of the country’s brightest jewels, but I need not tell you Miss Elizabeth is a diamond of the first water and a cut above the rest. Fortunately, I am a man who can also appreciate the value of a diamond in the rough.” Dun cast an appreciative glance at Miss Lucas and continued, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, my heartfelt congratulations to you as well, sir. You are both very fortunate gentlemen.”
His superior officer assured him it was true and said, “You need not worry that Mr. Bennet has cast pearls before swine, you know.”
Darcy added, “Indeed, rather than being trampled underfoot, our brides shall be put on pedestals.”
Dun, who still harboured lingering resentment toward Darcy, decided to get in a snide remark after all. “I would certainly be wary of men who put women on pedestals. They may only want to look up their skir … ” He suddenly remembered they were in mixed company. “ … to look up to them and p-raise them to the skies. I would much rather have my bride walk beside me and share my life than spend her time on a pedestal.” Again he cast a fond look toward Miss Lucas.
Mr. Bennet had had enough, so he changed the subject by addressing his son. “What are you doing so secretly at the desk there, young sir?”
“It ith no thecret, Papa. I am writing a thtory.”
“Excellent, Robert! You write uncommonly fast, though. Pray tell us what your story is about, poppet.”
“I do not know, Papa. I cannot read yet.”
The room’s occupants chuckled, and Mr. Bennet continued, “Well, do not let that stop you. To quote Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, ‘Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it; boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.’”
At that moment, Sharp appeared again in the doorway, this time somewhat rattled. The master of the house sharply inquired, “Yes, man, what is it?”
“A visitor, sir. A Lady Catherine de Bourgh is in the foyer deman … asking to see her nephew, Mr. Darcy. Shall I … Ah, here is the lady now, sir.”
She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no reply to salutations other than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down without saying a word. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were all amazement, and Sir William and Lady Lucas were obviously excited to be in the presence of a personage of such high importance. With great civility, Mrs. Bennet begged her ladyship to take some refreshment; however, upon being informed there was no fruitcake available, the offer of eating anything else was very resolutely, and not very politely, declined. Lady Catherine did, nevertheless, condescend to accept a glass of sherry; and Baines, who was on duty in the sitting room, was aggrieved and aghast when the woman repeatedly beckoned for refills during her visit. The shocked servant was somewhat relieved to receive surreptitious instruction from Colonel Fitzwilliam to forthwith water down his aunt’s potent wine.
After sitting for several moments in silence, the inebriated Lady Catherine very stiffly spoke to her Darcy nephew. “I hope you are will, Fishwelliam. Yet I am mosht shocked, ashtonished, and sherioushly dishpleashed with your shishter, Anna. I expected to find a reashonable young woman; however, I had to shpend a full half flower of weeding … (ahem) half hour of wheedling before she would divulge your deshtination. Anna ought to have known I am not to be truffled with. I went to your home with the dead-ermined … (ahem) determined resholution of carrying my porpoise … (ahem) purpose, and I would not be dishwaded from it. I have not been used to shubmitting to any pershon’sh whim, and I have not been in the hobbit of braking … (ahem) habit of brooking dishappointment. I inshishted on being shatishfied and would not go awry until she finally volunteered the information mosht unwillingly. I am ashamed of her! Anna should have more reshpect for her eldersh. From whom ish she picking up shuch mad bannersh … (ahem) bad manners?” Lady Catherine cast narrowed eyes around to each of the room’s occupants while she took another healthy swig of sweet sherry. “I asshumed the gosship in the paper wash all a lack of piesh … (ahem) pack of lies. But that lady, I shupposhe, ish your intended, the one hearing bedding wellsh … (ahem) wedding bells.” She cannily pinpointed Elizabeth with her pointy cane.
Darcy very concisely verified the identification. Unless you scare her off. Elizabeth, I promise you, I do not take after my aunt! Well, there was that one time at White’s when I thought I lost you; but I swear I will not go on the cut again.
“And that woman, Rishard, I shuposhe is yoursh.” Again, she accurately singled out her other nephew’s betrothed by indicating Jane with the now wildly wavering walking stick. The fact the couple had been found fondling one another’s ungloved hands had handily helped the stewed shrew’s shrewd sighting.
“Yes, Aunt. This is Miss Jane Bennet, and I am overjoyed she will soon become a part of our family.” Oh, Jane, please do not change your mind! Every family has a black sheep, or a skeleton in the closet, or a skeleton in sheep’s clothing in the closet, or …
Lady Catherine snorted in a most unladylike manner and tossed back another glass of watered-down sherry. While the adults in the overcrowded room felt awkward and uncomfortable being witness to the woman’s shocking behaviour, Robert was intrigued by the elderly visitor. He scrambled down from his seat, crossed the room, and stood in front of her. The woman’s glazed expression suddenly brightened. “Heaven and earth, look at you! Cute ash a bug! Who are you, little one? What ish your name? Who are your father, mother, aunts, and uncles?”
“I am Robert Bennet, ma’am.” The little boy bowed and then said, “You have the same name as Caffrin. But we call her Kitty. We have a kitty named Cato. But Papa calls him Bad-Cat! Why are you called Lady Caffrin der Bug? You are not cute as a bug. Why does your skin not fit your face?”
Once again Robert’s words caused embarrassment amongst the grownups; and those who knew, or knew of, Lady Catherine de Bourgh were frozen in place waiting for an explosion. When the eruption occurred, it was not the sort expected; for the woman threw back her head and howled … with laughter. She thumped her cane, stomped her feet, and thrust her empty glass at Baines so she could repeatedly slap her palm on the chair’s armrest. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she struggled to catch her breath. But when Darcy, the Colonel, and Mrs. Bennet all rushed to her aide, she waved them away.
“Mama? What is wrong wiff Lady Caffrin der Bug?”
“Come along, poppet. Jane, please ring for Alice to take Robert to the nursery.”
“I will take him, Mama.” Jane scooped up her bewildered brother into her arms. The attention turned back to the esteemed visitor, who was by then snoring softly with her chin resting on her chest. No one noticed the Colonel slip out of the room to follow his fiancée.
Lieutenant-Colonel Dun chose to take his leave during the lull in conversation, but not before first asking permission from Sir William to call upon his daughter while they were staying in London. His request was granted; Dun promised to visit Miss Lucas the next day, bowed, and said his goodbyes.
To Darcy it appeared that, had his aunt set out to ridicule herself as much as she could during the afternoon, it would have been impossible for her to play her part with more spirit or finer success. At least the Bennet family was not of the sort to be much distressed by the folly. Mrs. Bennet looked at her mortified future-son-in-law and asked, “What shall we do, Mr. Darcy? Should we awaken her?”
“I am unsure. I have never before, in my entire life, known my aunt to laugh. I do believe the unaccustomed outburst has quite exhausted her. She is sleeping like a log, so I suggest we just let sleeping logs die … Pardon me! I meant sleeping dogs … er, aunts … um … ”
They were spared having to make any uncomfortable decision by the arrival of Lady Catherine’s nearest relation in the world. Anne de Bourgh entered the room in company with the man rumoured to be courting her; and after the necessary introductions, the two gently roused the lady, spoke softly, and induced her to drink a potion from the bottle Anne had recently begun to carry in her reticule at her suitor’s insistence.
Darcy was appalled and intrigued. “Bingley, for God’s sake, what on earth are you doing, man?”
“I am not doing this for God’s sake, Darcy, but for Anne’s, I mean Miss de Bourgh’s. Her mother, as you are very well aware, can be quite an ogress and has made her daughter’s life miserable at times. I have been all over town these past few days consulting with various physicians, and it has been recommended we give Lady Cat a tonic.”
The befuddled woman looked up and, in vino veritas, said, “My bear Mr. Ding, how pleashant it ish to shee you again. And you brought my gritty pearl … (ahem) pretty girl with you too.” The woman beckoned her daughter to lean down and whispered, “I re-cog-ni-shize your dozen Carshy; but who are all thesh other people, and where did they come from? It will be nesheshshary to kindly ashk them to leave now, becaush I need to take another nittle lap … (ahem) little nap. Help me up to my chambersh, Annie dear; and remind me to have the drawing room re-decorum-ated. I do not recall it being sho devoid of pretendshush garrishnessh before.”
Lady Catherine was sound asleep again and softly snoring as several of her own footmen were summoned to gently carry their mistress to the waiting de Bourgh carriage. Anne apologized profusely to both the Bennet and Lucas families for her mother’s non compos mentis and then ordered that Lady Catherine be immediately taken home to Rosings Park and put to bed. Anne then ignored her cousin Darcy’s scowl as he watched from the doorway while she and Bingley entered another carriage and drove off together without a chaperone.
Darcy scowled yet again when he entered the sitting room. Miss Jane Bennet had returned, and he noticed she was suspiciously wearing a high-necked fichu that had not been part of her frock when she carried her brother upstairs to the nursery. She and Fitz were both peculiarly flushed and somehow managed to give the impression of guilt and smugness concurrently. Consequently Darcy somehow managed to appear both shocked and rather envious at the same time.
The two fiancés were daily visitors at the Bennet townhouse. The gentlemen regularly arrived before breakfast, were invited to stay for dinner, and remained as late as proper. They agreed to dine with their future in-laws again that particular evening, so Mrs. Bennet hurried off to speak with the housekeeper. Lady Lucas retired to her guest chamber for a rest, and Mr. Bennet challenged Sir William to a battle of wits over the chessboard in the study. Charlotte and the two engaged couples headed for the mews, as the men were interested in seeing Elizabeth’s mare, Gloriana, and her father’s gelding, Zephyr. Charlotte felt like a fifth wheel on a carriage but chose to walk with her best friend and the Colonel.
Darcy tucked Lizzy’s hand into his arm. Dun’s presence had set him on edge, and the visit from Lady Catherine had nearly sent him over it; so he was relieved to be away from the house for a while. “Elizabeth, I am so sorry about my aunt. She is … ” He glanced ahead to the mews that housed the horses of her neighbourhood. “ … unstable.”
She looked up to catch him smiling down at her and squeezed his arm. “Please do not apologize for something beyond your control, sir. Georgiana and Anna hinted at your poor aunt’s malady, and I just hope Mr. Bingley and Miss de Bourgh can finally get her the help she needs. Lady Catherine will always be welcome in our home … oh, I mean the Bennet home … and I hope in our home as well, Fitzwilliam.”
“Thank you, my dear. You have not yet seen Aunt Catherine at her worst, but I appreciate your consideration. She can be dreadfully embarrassing, and certain members of our family want her committed to Bedlam. But the dear lady is family; and so, yes, she will always be welcome in our home. I do like the sound of that, Elizabeth … our home; and I grow impatient to make you my wife.” He steered them toward the door and his thoughts away from impropriety. “Are the wedding preparations proceeding well on your side? Mother and my sisters are frantically coordinating arrangements between here and Derbyshire, and I am jealous they will most likely monopolize your time tomorrow night. Fleming has wisely suggested a relaxing stroll at Vauxhall Gardens the evening following the dinner to give everyone a breather from all the planning. Would you like to accompany me?”
“The preparations are proceeding well; I look forward to being your wife. I will assign you a few minutes of my precious time tomorrow night, and it would be my pleasure to visit the pleasure garden with you. After all, sir, Vauxhall’s pathways are famous for romantic assignations, are they not?”
The stunned expression on Darcy’s face was well worth her embarrassment at having so brazenly flirted. He stopped short and stood staring down at her in awe. Elizabeth soon became a tad nervous over the ardency of his look. “Well, here we are at the mews, sir. Are you ready to meet Gloriana, ‘The Faerie Queen.’”
Having read a portion of the incomplete epic allegorical poem by Edmund Spenser about good versus evil, Darcy knew it was actually written in praise of the intelligent and powerful Queen Elizabeth of the Tudor dynasty. Gloriana, as her name would suggest, represented Glory in the mythical ‘Faerieland’ inhabited by Arthurian knights, each representing a virtue: holiness, temperance, chastity, friendship, justice, and courtesy. Although Arthur was supposed to be the embodiment of all those virtues, Darcy considered his own queen, Elizabeth, possessed them in good measure as well.
The other Gloriana was a sorrel, well over sixteen hands high; and once again, Darcy looked at Lizzy, a woman of just under average height, in astonishment.
“Do not look so surprised, sir. Even with a mounting block, I still require assistance gaining my seat.”
“So, you use a block to mount; but how on earth do you get down from Gloriana?”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, really. Are you sure you want me to answer such an irresistible question?”
His brows knit while one of hers arched. Because of the nerve-racking position of that one eyebrow, Darcy rather hesitantly said, “Yes. How do you get down from Gloriana?”
“One does not get down from Gloriana, sir; one gets down from a duck.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy was an intelligent man, but he did not appear to comprehend her joke –perhaps because he was an intelligent man. He blankly stared at her. She sighed and said, “Fitzwilliam, did you honestly expect Gloriana to be a mere pony?”
“She is glorious, Elizabeth … as are you, albeit downright silly as a goose.”
She playfully swatted his arm. Darcy glanced around for the others, who were at Zephyr’s stall; and although he longed for much more, he only dared put his arm around her and quickly brush his lips against her soft cheek. His deep voice vibrated near her ear. “Lizzy, I want to rain kisses upon you but must keep a tight rein on my desire; you reign over my heart, my faerie queen, and I am your loyal subject.”
Elizabeth saw the others approach, so she tore her eyes away from the intensity in his. “I have been thinking about The Faerie Queen and the Arthurian legends, Sir Fitzwilliam; and I, your queen Elizabeth, have a challenge for you.”
“Once again, I am almost afraid to ask. Nonetheless, ask I shall, since it is what my queen desires. What is this challenge?”
“I challenge you to a duel of punnery.”
“There is no such word, your majesty. But since you have thrown down the gauntlet, I must pun-derously accept.” Darcy peeled off his kid gloves, flung them to the ground, and silently dared her to do the same. Elizabeth followed suit and boldly stripped off kid gloves as well. The temptation was too great. Her fiancé quickly snatched both her bare hands and kissed them ardently, and repeatedly, while gazing into her fine eyes.
“Ahem!” Colonel Fitzwilliam suddenly appeared next to Darcy. With arms crossed over his chest, he lectured, “Youn-g-loves, now is not the time, and here is not the place, to dispense with decorum.”
Lizzy blushed but cried, “Ooh, another contestant! Please join us, Sir Richard. We are about to engage in a battle of puns relating to King Arthur.”
Darcy whined, “Elizabeth, you did not previously mention the puns had to conform to a certain theme. You most certainly have an unfair advantage, madam. In fact, I now suspect you have come to this tournament equipped with a prepared arsenal of quips.”
“Are you conceding defeat already, Sir Fitzwilliam?”
“Upun my word, I am not! Let the pun and games begin.”
His cousin groaned and opened his mouth to protest. Elizabeth, arms akimbo, said, “Colonel, kindly save your groans for after my opponent’s puns. Following mine, however, laughter will be most welcome and appreciated.”
When the officer asked how they would determine the winner, Lizzy suggested Charlotte would be an impartial judge.
“But I want to play too!”
Jane solved the problem by saying, “I shall not be joining the challenge but will decide the victor. I require a great deal of forethought before forming a pun. I am far too slow.”
Quick as a wink, her fiancé was beside Jane; and when she looked up at him, Colonel Stud-muffin winked and whispered, “I disagree, love. I happen to know you are rather fast.”
“Richard!” Jane hissed, “You are incorrigible.”
“Only because you incorrige me, sweetheart.”
Elizabeth shook her head and objected, “Jane, there is no way you are going to be impartial where the Colonel is concerned. I believe the only solution is to return home and have our father adjudicate.”
Darcy doubted whether Mr. Bennet would be unbiased. Good God, what has this woman done to me? Here I am worried over such nonsense as a punnery contest ruling. Where is the old Fitzwilliam Darcy who would have scoffed at such folly? That perfectionist would never have lowered himself to partake in a situation where he could be ridiculed, and that poor man would have missed out on so much joy.
His cousin was thinking along similar lines, and he marvelled at the fate that had so fortunately brought the Bennet ladies into their lives. Darcy had always been lively enough in company of his immediate family and very close friends but extremely reserved in public. Miss Elizabeth was perfect for him and had already been the cause of more smiles on Darcy’s face in the short months of their acquaintance than had ever been cracked in his entire life. Colonel Fitzwilliam knew instinctively Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s marriage would be a benchmark of conjugal happiness, as would his own with dearest, loveliest Jane.
Of course, once the five returned to the townhouse and explained the contest, Mr. Bennet wanted to participate rather than adjudicate. Lydia also insisted on being included, so straws were drawn to form teams and to determine which went first. Elizabeth was paired with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lydia with Mr. Darcy, and Charlotte with Mr. Bennet. Their audience, consisting of Sir William, Lady Lucas, Mrs. Bennet, Jane, Mary, and Kitty, would decide the winning team by the volume and duration of applause each pun earned.
Lydia and her partner went first. After consulting with Mr. Darcy, she stood and offered, “Sir Mount had a bad dream about his horse. It was a knight-mare.” This earned smiles and a polite round of applause for the little girl. Darcy was proud of Lydia, as she had come up with the premise on her own and just needed help with the phrasing. She reminded him so much of Lizzy, both in looks and temperament, that he felt he was being allowed a glimpse of what his betrothed would have been like at seven years of age.
With his collaborator’s approval, Colonel Fitzwilliam, being a military man, stood at attention and pronounced, “When a knight in armour was killed in battle, his gravestone said ‘rust in peace.’” Predictably, Jane clapped the longest and loudest for her beloved fiancé and sister.
Mr. Bennet held off and allowed Charlotte to fire their first salvo. “A knight put his arm-our ’round his lady.” Sir William and Lady Lucas hoped Lieutenant-Colonel Dun would be their daughter’s knight in shining armour and heartily applauded her choice.
At Lydia’s nod of consent, Darcy smugly fired back, “A knight courting his lady wore a suit of amore.” Groans were heard amongst the sparse clapping, and he knew he would have to do better next round and avoid Italian words.
Jane was jealously relieved when her sister stopped whispering close to Richard’s ear. Lizzy stood and proclaimed, “King Arthur had a Round Table so no one could corner him.” A smattering of applause and groans caused Elizabeth to sit back down in a huff. She crossed her arms, glared at her father, and silently challenged him.
“Thank you, Lizzy, for mentioning that very special table. It made me think the knights facing each other at King Arthur’s Round Table disagreed a lot because they were diametrically opposed.” That pun initially went over all but Sir William’s head; and he was the only one to clap until the rest of the audience caught on and joined in the applause.
Darcy was out of his depth and relied on his little companion. Luckily, Lydia remembered a recent discussion between their governess and Kitty; and she was able to put forth, “The Dark Ages were so named because there were so many knights.” The youngest member of the contest beamed as her audience clapped.
Colonel Fitzwilliam thought his partner’s brilliant offering would put them in the lead, and the appreciative round of applause Miss Elizabeth received gratified him. Her pun was ‘Old knights in chain mail never die. They joust shuffle off their metal coils’.
Lydia tugged on Mr. Darcy’s sleeve and asked him to explain. “It is a play on words from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Miss Lydia. The quote is: ‘What dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.’ And I am afraid we will have to try very hard to top that pun, little one.”
“But I still do not understand it, Mr. Darcy.”
“Remember in the park, when you found the sparrow?” When Lydia nodded, he continued, “Well, the bird had divested itself of its mortal coil. It no longer needed its earthly body, because it had died. Do you understand?” Again she nodded; and Darcy smiled and said, “Good. We are to be brother and sister, you know. So you must never be afraid to approach me if you have a question. Now, let us hear what our other opponents are saying.”
“Miss Lucas, do you happen to know which monarch of medieval England was famous because he spent so many knights at his Round Table writing books?”
Charlotte clasped her hands under her chin and gazed in rapt wonder at her friend’s father. “Why, no! Oh, but please do enlighten us, Mr. Bennet.”
“It was King Author, of course.” Their opponents thought the two were unfairly hamming it up, but the audience groaned and reluctantly clapped.
Susanna Palmer, the housekeeper, tiptoed into the room, curtsied, and spoke softly to Mrs. Bennet, who then announced dinner would soon be served. “I have advised Mrs. Palmer to keep the first course of stew and biscuits warm until we end the final round. I suggest each team must now present two puns per turn, so we can finish here before we all shuffle off our mortal coils due to starvation.”
Bloody hell, this is entirely too much pressure! Fiend seize it, as Bingley would say! Egad, why am I fretting over this inanity? Who would believe Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to Pemberley, Northumbrella, and the famous Darcy fortune would be involved in such folly? The gentleman from Derbyshire looked around at his new family and realized he had never been happier, and he anticipated spending many more days and nights in such a manner. Knights! After a quick consultation with his teammate, he announced, “When those around King Arthur’s Round Table had insomnia, there were a lot of sleepless knights. So the straight-edged ruler decreed his men must, thereafter, practice joust at knight.” Darcy could not keep the smirk off his face as he sat down, crossed his arms, and stared defiantly at his wife-to-be while the audience cheered and clapped. There! Just try and trounce that trenchant triple treasure, Miss Lizzy Bennet.
Elizabeth stared back and was determined to outwit her future husband. She and her resolute partner, Colonel Fitzwilliam, planned their strategy and launched their volley. “One evening, the roundest knight at King Arthur’s famous table, Sir Cumference, discovered Sir Lancelot’s moonshine operation; and together with his companions, they shattered the still of the knight.”
Applause was loud and long; but when it finally petered out, Mr. Bennet and Miss Lucas were ready to retaliate. The gentleman allowed the young lady to present the final pun of the competition. “When King Arthur found out about Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot, he knew how to deal with the sworded truth. He banished Sir Lancelot to Egypt, where the disgraced knight opened a very successful camel-lot.”
It was hard to determine whether the sustained applause was intended for that final pun or whether the audience clapped in appreciation of the end of such a pun-ishing contest. However, the six judges were all in agreement the challenge had clearly ended in a three-way draw; and Mrs. Bennet quickly shooed everyone out and into the dining room. Along the way she beckoned Lady Lucas aside and said, “I do not usually join in when Mr. Bennet, Lizzy, and Lydia are engaged in their silly wordplay. Be that as it may, I do have a couple of my own to add to today’s theme.”
“Fanny, I know you do not share your naughty puns with your family. Pray tell, what do you have for me today?”
Mrs. Bennet waited until the others had passed and whispered, “Queen Guinevere nicknamed her favourite beef-cake lover Sir Loin.” The two ladies snickered; and then she added, “King Arthur never let any of his personal musicians go swimming immediately after eating for fear they would get minstrel cramps.”
Mrs. Bennet had not noticed Mr. Darcy and Lizzy had returned to check why the hostess was missing from her own table. The young couple overheard the last pun; and Darcy said, “I do not get it.”
His future wife turned red and muttered, “You are very fortunate, indeed, sir.”
Mr. Darcy would never have groused aloud; however, he had been disappointed to discover the first course was to be lamb st-eew. Elizabeth learned of his dislike but knew he was too much of a gentleman to voice his opinion. “Fitzwilliam, please do not despair. I will simply have our cook prepare another dish for you. You do not have to eat the lamb.”
Her fiancé sheepishly said, “No, under no circumstances. Please do not go to such bother on my account. Really, my revulsion is too much ado about mutton. I will simply eat the lamb stew. It is time I overcome my dislike. I shall conquer this. I shall.”
“You are very brave and gallant, Sir Fitzwilliam. I had no idea this day would be such an historic one.”
“I am afraid to ask … ”
“Why, today Fitz-William the Conqueror shall engage in the Battle of Tastings.”
Conversation at the table eventually turned to the Colonel’s appreciation of the fine horseflesh stabled at the mews; and Sir William commented on the exhilarating sight of Miss Elizabeth on Gloriana racing across Longbourn’s meadows against Zephyr, ridden by her father. “But true magnificence, Colonel, would be Bennet’s pride and joy, his grey Arabian stallion. Khaldun Kahleil is an incredible creature; even I, an unskilled rider, can appreciate his spirit and endurance.” He paused to pass the basket of freshly baked bread, biscuits, muffins, and scones back to his host.
Mr. Bennet thanked Sir William and said to Jane’s future husband, “Well, son, you will just have to visit Hertfordshire to see Kahleil, although he is currently at a neighbouring estate rather than at Longbourn. You see, I hire him out to stud. Muffin, Colonel?”
The very ladylike Miss Jane Bennet uttered a very unladylike snort, followed by a giggle, and “Excuse me!”
Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows and asked, “Was it something I said?”
The engagement dinner held at the Darcy townhouse was a memorable evening for the family members, relatives, and close friends who gathered to celebrate three love matches and the eight-and-twentieth anniversary of the birth of Richard Cosmo Fitzwilliam.
Before the other guests’ arrival, the army officer had been summoned to his uncle’s study where Lord Matlock, Lady Catherine, and their family solicitor informed him of his inheritance. When Sir Lewis shuffled off his mortal coil ten years previously, he had been the final male member of the de Bourgh line. His will stipulated should his marriage produce no male heir, Rosings Park would be bequeathed to his wife’s closest untitled male relation not already in possession of an estate upon that man reaching the responsible age of eight and twenty. In his widow’s opinion, the stipulation was an heir-brained one; and although Lady Catherine did not have the willpower to contest the testament on Anne’s behalf, her disapproval was clearly evident. The mournful expression on the woman’s face was a dead giveaway – which, coincidentally, might also morbidly be considered the definition of a will.
Wealth can be a rather touchy subject; so when the Bennet family arrived, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was still reeling from the disclosure of his legacy, requested a few private moments with his fiancée in order to inform her of their sudden good fortune. Jane was elated by Richard’s information but not by reason of his newly gained riches. The young lady was, in actuality, more relieved by the fact her husband-to-be would soon resign from his dangerous soldiering occupation. That he was also very well endowed was a just another advantage to which she could look forward. The Colonel’s heart filled with joy, knowing his bride cared more for his safety than for property; and because love can also be a rather touchy subject, the happy couple took advantage of their privacy before joining the others. The well-endowed officer was warned, however, to not dare leave another brand on her skin, as Jane had not the foresight to bring along the high-necked fichu she had used to previously cover the mark he had left behind.
At the massive dining room table, between courses, announcements were made and toasts were given to those being honoured that evening. The Earl of Matlock made public the news of his second son’s good fortune; and, with the vintage champagne contributed to the festivities by Mr. Edward Gardiner, he proposed a toast. “The Fitzwilliam family motto is ‘Let your desires obey your reason’. Yet I am proud Richard had reason to obey his desire for gaining the hand of such a lovely young lady as Miss Bennet. So, let us now pay tribute to his good reason, the anniversary of his birth, his inheritance, and his engagement.” The Earl lifted his glass and looked to where the Colonel and his beautiful fiancée sat side-by-side. “To quote an Irish blessing, ‘May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past’. Ladies and gentlemen, to Richard and his Miss Jane Bennet!”
The others lifted their drinks into the air; and replies of “Hear! Hear!” “Three cheers!” and “Hip, hip, hurrah!” were heard around the table as guests touched glasses.
Lord Matlock then gestured to his eldest son, Viscount Wentletrap, who rose and and happily announced Isabelle was finally expecting their first child. Everyone was pleased by the news, and many were especially gladdened to see the usually surly James smile and kiss his wife’s hand. The two exchanged an affectionate glance, and again glasses were raised in congratulation. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a new baby in the family means many changes are necessary; and five months from that very evening, the couple became doting parents and a much more loving couple upon the birth of a healthy heir.
Next, George Darcy stood and said, “I have heard it said ‘Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart;’ and I have first-hand knowledge this is true.” He gazed fondly at Lady Anne and then continued, “I am delighted to welcome into our family the two extraordinary young people who have captured the hearts of my son and my eldest daughter. Marriages made for love are surely heaven sent. Then again, so are thunder, lightning, hurricanes, and hail. So, may all their troubles be merely tempests in teacups. Family and friends, please join me in toasting the upcoming marriages of Miss Elizabeth Bennet to Fitzwilliam and Mr. Ellis Fleming to Georgiana.” Best wishes and the sound of clinking crystal filled the room.
Between the fourth and fifth courses, Mr. Bennet arose and said, “First, I must mention both my future sons-in-law are as fine fellows as ever I saw; and I am prodigiously proud of them for choosing such remarkable women for their brides. As I grow older, my lovely wife often reminds me I am an incurable rheumatic; so I wish to pay tribute to our three happy couples by quoting Homer: ‘There is nothing nobler or more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.’ May you long confound your enemies and continue to delight us with your love.” He was about to raise his glass but remembered to add, “Oh, and if a stalemate is ever a problem, I hope you will be as patient as my dear Mrs. Bennet, who frequently has to listen to me tell the same jokes over and over.”
With the various wines served during meal courses, and all the champagne toasts, Charles Bingley, seated next to Anne de Bourgh, had become a wee bit foxed; but he stood and proposed his own toast to his three friends and their fiancées. “‘No sooner met but they looked; so sooner looked but they loved; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.’ William Shakespeare wrote those lines, and I just recited them from As You Like It. But why is it we recite at a play and play at a recital? Sorry. I became lost in thought, and it was unfamiliar territory. In fact, I spent half my time here attempting to come up with something witty to say, so I am obviously a half-wit. Please do not pore over my words, but pour more champagne, and let us drink to my very fortunate friends and their poor, unfortunate brides.”
After dinner, the ladies left the gentlemen to their port and made their way to the music room, where the prodigiously accomplished Miss Mary Bennet entertained them with Beethoven’s Pathetique. Servants carried in trays of sweets, tea, coffee, and hot chocolate; and Mrs. Bennet, who was especially fond of the latter beverage, remarked, “Men are like chocolate … sweet, smooth, and usually head right for your hips.” She immediately blushed upon realizing she was in very refined company but was gratified when all the other women laughed, even Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam and the medicated Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
The gentlemen did not linger in the dining room but joined the ladies during the second movement of the sonata. When Mary’s exemplary performance was completed and appreciatively applauded, Fitzwilliam Darcy asked his betrothed if she would care to take a stroll in the garden with him. The night was crisp and clear, and he wanted to spend time with her under the stars and perhaps share a kiss. He helped Elizabeth bundle up in her pelisse and said, “You realize, love, when we reside in Northumberland during the winters, we may have to forsake the great outdoors for the grate indoors. The weather will be colder than that to which you are accustomed. While we can, let us take advantage of this fi-nite and do some stargazing.”
They walked in the garden, arm-in-arm, away from the light of the windows in order to better see the night sky. Darcy settled Lizzy in his arms with her back against his chest and spoke softly near her ear. “Among your other amazing accomplishments, are you also an amateur astronomer, Elizabeth?” When she shook her head, he pointed toward to a point of light in the sky and said, “That, my dear, is the dog star.”
“Are you certain, Fitzwilliam? I do hope you are not teasing me, for this stellar lesson must be absolutely Sirius.” She turned to face him, and he knew he was about to be teased by the glint in her eyes, the arch of her brow, and the sassy smile he loved so much. “Hmm, Mr. Darcy, I wonder what would be the correct term for a mutual physical force attracting two bodies. But again, the gravity of the matter must not be taken lightly.”
“Ha, hardy har. I thought you said you had no knowledge of astronomy.”
“Well, my father did teach me a bit, sir. So allow me to test your own stellar knowledge. Which constellation is also an Irishman’s drink?”
Darcy searched for a possibility, but having Elizabeth in his embrace distracted his thoughts. “I shall probably kick myself when I hear this. What is the answer?”
“O’Ryan’s Belt. Really, Fitzwilliam, your knowledge of heavenly bodies is certainly not a force with which to be reckoned.”
“I must not decide on my own performance.” He wrapped his arms firmly around her and continued, “However, you were correct heavenly bodies have a very strong attractive force, Lizzy.”
She giggled and said, “Why do I have the feeling you are no longer speaking of celestial objects, sir?”
“You are a very quick learner, sweetheart, and I am starry eyed. Astronomy lesson over – anatomy lesson next. Kiss me and discover the affect you have on my poor heart. It races whenever you are near, and …”
A footman’s “Ahem” cut through the night and pulled the young lovers apart. “Excuse me, Miss, but you are needed inside. Lady Anne and Miss Darcy request your opinion on some wedding arrangements.”
The chaste kiss he had bestowed upon Elizabeth amongst the branches of the oak tree in the park had merely whetted Darcy’s appetite for more, and he had anticipated and planned for their first passionate one to be that evening under the stars. An embarrassed and contrite footman, who stood fifteen feet away, could hear the gentleman’s frustrated sigh.
Elizabeth felt the exasperated exhalation ruffle the curls atop her head. “Sorry, Fitzwilliam. We were lucky to have those few moments alone. There are still many last-minute details to be considered before we all leave Town for Derbyshire.”
“I fail to understand why you have to be so personally involved. Our mothers, together with Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds at Pemberley, are taking care of all the preparations for the ceremony and celebration.”
“I do not believe I have ever seen you pout before, Mr. Darcy. You look like a spoiled little boy, and I hope our sons will look just like their father.”
“Sons, Elizabeth? How many children do you foresee in our future? Similar to your parents, we may be blessed with five lovely daughters before an heir arrives.”
“If such is the case, we shall simply have to keep trying. As I said before, practice makes perfect, Mr. Darcy; and I know you do strive for perfection.”
Bingley had not corresponded with his sister during the first two blissful weeks of her absence. To be perfectly honest, due to being so wrapped up in rapt attention to Anne de Bourgh, he had not given much thought at all to Caroline. So when a letter finally arrived from Staffordshire, Charles was only a trifle curious why it might be in his aunt’s slapdash and slipshod handwriting rather than his sister’s fastidious penmanship; however, he was more than a trifle peeved, grieved, and discontent with its content.
Dearest Neffew,
Smudgething has ocurd of a most serious nature; blot I am afraid of alarming you, so be assured your uncle and I are find. Please excuse the way I right, which has been described as smudgelar to yours; we both have a tendency to mispell, leave out half our, and blot the rest. Today I am under pressure and am at present tense. The bumblebloth relates to your bacon-brained sister, for smudge has fled to Gretna Green in Sotland with a fiend of yours, a George Wackhim, from nayboring Derbyshire.
Bingley’s heart raced while he paced and thought with distaste, Fiend, indeed! His name, dear aunt, is actually Wickham. Just the same, if he has in any way compromised Caroline, whack him is what I shall surely do! Steps were retraced, and he braced himself as he sat and faced his sister’s disgrace.
Although we were surprised by the actual elopement, the match itself was not holy unexpected. The young blot presented hisself to us at the assembly here in Tutbury the night falling Caroline’s arrival, and your uncle and I remembered his name as being that of one of your Cambridge fiends. His familyarity with you, in addition to your sister’s prays of his home on a fine estate, led us to believe he was off good character and fairly flush in the pockets. Therefore, we smudgesequently aloud Wreakharm to call on Caroline, and Mrs. Teak chaperoned during his visits. We all assumed the growing attachment …
Attached growth, more like, Bingley thought as, with the utmost impatience, he instantly turned the page over and continued to learn how Wickham had wreaked harm and havoc on his family.
… would follow the normal coarse of curtship and engagment. Obviously our conjecture was blot and naïve. The two rascals fled Saturnight about twelve o’ the clock but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight while we ate. Caroline did smudge a few lines informing us of her intention, and your uncle immediately departed in poorsuit.My dear Charles, I wish this may be more intellijibble; blot my head is so bewildered I cannot answer for being coherent. I have just now been advised by express post there is reason to fear cork-brained Caroline and her lecherous lover are not gone to Regretna Green at all; and we are now anxious to be assured a marriage between your smudge and the blot has, in fact, taken place. Unable to locate the rapskillions, your Uncle Bart did discover George Wreckhart is not an astute owner after all, but rather the son of an estate stewart. Imagine our surprise! The Darcy family of Pemburly is certainly well respected in this region and very much smudge. My husband visited and spoke with the senior Mr. Workhim, who has no knowledge of his son’s enloopment. Apparently the young rake was on an important errant for his parent and is expected to return to Pembloty tomorrow. Your uncle is staying at an in inn Lamptown awaiting the arrival of the wretched wastrel and our poor retch of a niece. Whatever the outcome, your sister has now been brought to point non-plus and will have to become riveted to your fiend. If convenient, nefpew, I earnestly beg you to come here as blot as possible. Hopefully it will not be long before Caroline reappears.
Your loving aunt,
Rhea Piers.
Charles Bingley flung the ill-written pages onto his desk, restlessly paced back and forth again, raked both hands through his hair, and exclaimed, “Holy heaven and bloody hell! I have been a friend to that fiend for years, so I know him too well to doubt his intentions. How dare the cad dally with my dear sister! I shall now have to commit Wickhamicide.”
He suddenly remembered Fossett was lurking in the hallway and kept further thoughts to himself. Although he would not put it past Caroline to deliberately engage in an elopement, he had difficulty believing his sister would pass up the opportunity for a fine wedding with an attendant and all its attendant finery. But, perhaps, in her current fragile state, neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve Caroline from falling an easy prey.
I, who knew what he was, should have warned my relatives of Wickham’s rakish character. But since Tutbury is a three-quarter-hour ride from Pemberley, how could I have known they would even meet? This chiding and chastising myself for being chary is uncharitable. Chivalrous Charlie, old chap, you must take charge for a change, make choices, chart your course, and give chase. My chief concern is the cheerless challenge of keeping Caroline’s chastity in check from chicanery. Once achieved, I can then cherish choking that churlish smirk from the cheeks of my cheating, checkered chum.
“Whew! I am glad to get that off my chest.”
Charles was such a charming, chipper chap, he chafed at not being cherubic. He settled on the chintzy chesterfield in the chilly chamber with the chipped chimneypiece and chatted with his churlish valet, childless housekeeper, and chubby coachman. While chugging tea and chomping on a chewy chunk of cheese, he cheerfully churned out chores to those chosen servants.
Preparations for their master’s departure immediately got underway; the feat was a fait accompli following forty-five minutes of feverish, frenetic frenzy. Fossett, the forbearing foyer footman, finally heard, “Fetch me a few books at once. Quickly, man!” Bingley was Tutbury bound within an hour, literary works in hand. The chosen literature consisted of two volumes on loan to him from Miss de Bourgh; and at the last minute, Bingley thought to have his dear Anne advised of the sudden, but unavoidable, departure.
Once settled as comfortably as possible in his equipage, he looked at the titles and chose The Excursion by Sally Forth instead of Primitive Transport by Orson Carte. But Bingley could not concentrate. His mind was more agreeably engaged as he meditated on the very great pleasure that a pair of strong fists could bestow on the face of a handsome skirt-chasing roué.
Unfortunately, his sudden departure would not make one whit of difference in his sister’s witless affair. By the time Bingley appeared at Mrs. Rhea Piers’ Staffordshire doorstep, Caroline’s fate had already been sealed with a kiss in a Lambton chapel in the neighbouring county of Derbyshire.
Before the journey to Pemberley, a hiatus was needed from all the harried purchasing, planning, packing, and preparing for the triple wedding. George Darcy, Lady Anne, and their three grown children, along with Elizabeth Bennet and Ellis Fleming, traveled in two carriages to Lambeth, on the south bank of the River Thames. The Darcy family possessed season tickets to Vauxhall Gardens, so the entire party was admitted to the pleasure garden without having to pay the admission fee of three-and-sixpence. Their plan was to stroll around the grounds for a while and then watch the fireworks display as soon as darkness fell. However, the evening became increasingly foggy; and because of the weather, it was doubtful the spectacle would take place that night.
Darcy and Elizabeth sauntered along without direction and soon lost the others. There was too much to be thought, felt, and said, for attention to any other objects such as people, statues, or the increasing drizzle. They soon discussed their first meeting; and the gentleman said, “Lady Catherine was of infinite use, inadvertently, of course. Had Mother and Father not been urgently summoned to Kent, my arrival at Pemberley would have been delayed until much later in the day; and I would certainly have missed your visit. Such a scenario is unthinkable to me now.”
Elizabeth added, “Let us not forget we also have Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious to thankfully acknowledge. Had they not escaped from the music salon at that particular moment, Jane and I would not have encountered Georgiana and Anna. By the time you appeared, we would have already departed. It is certainly a bit unnerving to realize so much rested on such an insignificant incident.”
“I absolutely believe we were destined to be together, Elizabeth; and somehow, somewhere, someday our paths would have eventually crossed.”
She disagreed. “I am not so certain. The Bennet family usually prefers to remain in Hertfordshire; and I cannot conceive any reason for you ever ending up in our neighbourhood, unless to attend one of our infamous Meryton assemblies. If such had been our fate, you would have shown up impeccably dressed and made an entirely different first impression.”
“We have already discussed this on more than one occasion; nevertheless, I am still wretched that I appeared before you in such an ungentlemanly manner. First impressions can be vitally important, and I sincerely regret the one I made was as an asinine barbaric buffoon.”
Elizabeth smiled up at him and said, “I must impress upon you a more impressive impression could not, in any possible way, have been made upon me. I am in no humour at present to give consequence to your intolerable belief your buffoonish, barbaric appearance was not handsome enough to tempt me.”
His astonishment was obvious; and Darcy looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity, mortification, and desire. “This revelation is … stimulating. I was certainly very far from expecting my emergence to make so strong an impression. I had not the slightest idea at the time of it being ever felt in such a way and have long been most heartily ashamed of my attire that afternoon.”
“Come now, Fitzwilliam. I cannot easily believe it. I know you saw me staring quite brazenly and appraisingly, and you must have thought me devoid of every proper feeling. Then I teased you most unmercifully when Jane and I were first invited to dine at your townhouse.”
“Well, I admit I caught you eyeing me rather blatantly; and although I strived to be perfectly calm and cool as a cucumber, my feelings were quite the opposite. I assure you such warm regard was entirely mutual.”
“Oh, please do continue and give a faithful account of your vigorous admiration upon first beholding me.”
“Are you fishing for compliments, my love? Very well, I shall indulge you this once. At first sight, I wondered how I could possibly withstand such beauty; and when you first raised those sparkling, intelligent eyes, I was well on the way to being lost. I could not resist such impertinence; and then you proved the liveliness of your mind, and I … I thought it wrong to be so instantly attracted to my younger sisters’ friend. Nonetheless, I could not stop thinking about you and … desiring you. Forgive me, Elizabeth, but you are a very beautiful woman. When you dined with my family that first evening here in London … well, you must realize the effect you had on me, for I acted like a blushing, stammering schoolboy with a crush.”
Darcy looked at his fiancée with great fondness as the corners of his eyes crinkled and dimples appeared. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, since most serendipitously making your acquaintance, I have been a hanson barberin, a buffoon, a cork-brained mooncalf, an alliterate art admirer, a riled rival, a green-eyed monster with the blue devils, a befogged and besotted sot, an old-fashioned prig in a pickled panic, a dancer not bearing waltz fitness, locked in an embrace with Bingley, locked in a library with you, afraid of what might come from the mouth of a three-year old babe, a sparrow’s undertaker, out on a limb, a mortified nephew, Sir Fitzwilliam, Fitz-William the Conqueror, and a purveyor of puny puns … all in a span of less than three and a half months. Whatever shall become of me once we marry and spend the rest of our lives together?”
“Oh dear. Fitzwilliam, are you getting cold feet?”
“Most certainly not! I have no intention of walking around with brr-feet. In fact, I have been quite swept off mine by you, Elizabeth. I am head over heels in love and not the sole owner of my heart any longer.”
“I am relived you have not changed your mind, sir.”
“There is nothing wrong with the one I have, madam.”
The heavy moisture in the evening air had begun to bead on their clothing and eyelashes; and not being one for mist opportunities, Darcy said, “Speaking of cold feet, we can return to the carriage now if it is too damp and chilly for you.”
He very much favoured the idea of being enclosed and alone with Elizabeth; but when she shook her head, he immediately opened his umbrella and was glad, at least, to have an excuse to draw her closer against his side.
“I am fine, Fitzwilliam. Moisture is good for the complexion; and I will not melt, you know.”
Five minutes later, she was melting. In order to fully bring Elizabeth under the shelter of his umbrella, Darcy had pulled her tighter; and his hand remained on her waist. Lizzy glanced up and found him staring at her rather intently. To be precise, Darcy was gazing at his fiancée’s dewy mouth, wondering whether or not he should dare attempt a stolen kiss. Because of the lateness of the season and the foggy weather, there were not many others wandering the lanes. His decision was further influenced by the fact Elizabeth had previously mentioned that the pleasure garden’s paths were well known as ideal for romantic assignations, so he opted for boldness and steered her toward a massive horse chestnut tree. When they were under its autumn-gold leafy protection, he lightly brushed his lips across the top of her gloved hand. Darcy entwined their fingers, never losing contact with her magnificent eyes, took another step forward, closed his umbrella, and rested it against the trunk.
“Elizabeth, there is something I have desired to do all evening and, in truth, ever since I first laid eyes on you. I long to finish what we began amongst the branches of a certain oak tree in another park before we were interrupted.”
His impassioned, smouldering gaze caused a shiver of excitement as well as a quiver of nervousness, which Lizzy attempted to conceal with a flippant remark. “Cato is now living in the lap of luxury, so our rescue mission was successfully completed.”
“As you are well aware, I am not referring to the kitten; and you are shivering from the cold.” Darcy repeatedly stroked her arms from shoulder to elbow and back again as he gently brushed his lips against her forehead. She sighed and closed her eyes when he placed light kisses across her damp, rosy cheeks. His deep voice rumbled, “Elizabeth … Lizzy … Lizzabiff … Lisshybit … Deelishybit.”
She nervously giggled. “Sir! In what manner did you just address me?”
Darcy smiled down at her and longingly stared at her mouth. “I believe, madam, I referred to you as Deelishybit, a rare, delicious …” He interrupted himself to place a quick, teasing peck on her luscious lips and then another on her delectable jaw. His long eyelashes flicked against her sensitive skin, and the sensation matched the fluttering in Lizzy’s heart. Darcy whispered sweet nothings and then gently held her head with both hands while he tenderly kissed her eyelids. Elizabeth melted into his warm embrace and steadied herself by grasping the lapels of his greatcoat. He took another step forward, and her back made contact with the tree. Darcy dipped his head and ignited new sensations as his lips found her earlobe and then nibbled up and down her neck.
Again she shuddered as he whispered near her ear, “May I kiss you properly, sweetheart?”
Laughter threatened to bubble up as she nervously replied, “Properly, sir, or improperly, I hardly know the diff … ” Her words were abruptly cut off, and Elizabeth Bennet suddenly felt the world around her disappear into an overwhelming, mind-boggling explosion of colour, sound, and sensation; and she belatedly realized the fireworks had commenced at the very same instant Darcy’s mouth claimed her own with tremendous passion and fervour.
As for the gentleman, he was not as inexperienced as his innocent fiancée; and their first real kiss definitely left something to be desired … more of her. Fitzwilliam Darcy had never felt anything that even came close to that earth-shattering smouldering smooch. When they finally surfaced for air, he marvelled that his timing had been so well synchronized with the onset of the fireworks display. He breathlessly exclaimed, “My God, Elizabeth, that was … positively … astounding!”
Elizabeth finally opened her eyes as he spoke; still all she could manage was to nod in agreement and utter, “Oh, yes!”
After being far too occupied to keep track of time, the engaged couple discovered at last, on examining their watches, it was way past the hour to join the others. Darcy grasped Lizzy’s hand as he led her out onto one of the lanes.
“Um, that is the wrong path to take, Fitzwilliam.”
“It most certainly is not, my darling. I have an impeccable sense of direction, and this lane will indubitably lead us back to the agreed meeting place.”
When their course did not indubitably bring them to the assigned spot, the disoriented gentleman looked around in bewilderment. “Perhaps my faultless sense of direction is a bit hazy this evening because of this confounded fog.” He motioned for her to take a left turn down what Lizzy was sure was another incorrect pathway.
After going around the bend, Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, your sense of direction is, indeed, impeccable. We have just completed a circuit and have returned to the exact spot from which we left not ten minutes ago. Are you ready to admit you have lost your way hereabouts in the lanes? We can always solicit someone for direction.”
“Absolutely unnecessary! We have not passed another soul; and, furthermore, I realize precisely where we are now, so we most certainly do not require anyone else’s assistance.”
“Well then, which avenue will lead us to your family?”
After leading her along the garden path, the two lovers ended up at a dead-end. Darcy took advantage of another golden opportunity to thoroughly kiss Elizabeth yet again … and again … and again.
“Fitzwilliam, as much as I have enjoyed the benefits of privacy with you, we really must return to the others at once. It is certainly becoming quite late. How do we find our way out of here?”
“I am unsure. Kissing you has obviously left me befogged.”
“It is not my fault you do not have the foggiest idea where we are.”
“I admit my senses are somewhat clouded this evening.”
“So you finally admit to being mist-ified and lost?”
He sheepishly nodded.
Despite several hit and mist attempts, Elizabeth finally guided her fiancé in the right direction; and the two met up with the rest of their party. Georgiana and Anna waited beside one of the carriages while George Darcy, his wife, and Ellis Fleming paced back and forth in the cool, damp night air.
“My dear Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, where have you two been wandering?” was the question they received from Lady Anne as soon as they appeared and from all the others as they approached the carriages. They only said in reply that they had wandered about till they were beyond their own knowledge; however, the guilty couple coloured up as they spoke and awakened suspicions of the truth.
Fitzwilliam Darcy put his foot in his mouth and further raised their skepticism when he changed the subject. “I am sorry we did not join you at the appointed time. All the same, I hope you enjoyed the magnificent display of fireworks as much as we did. Tonight’s pyrotechnic spectacle was truly … breathtaking.”
Anna gave her brother a puzzled look, Georgiana giggled, Lady Anne sighed, and a smirking Ellis tried to warn his friend with an ‘ahem’, a frown, and a slight shake of his head.
Elizabeth inquired, “Mr. Fleming, did you not consider it a most dazzling extravaganza of stimulating sight and sound? Why, it was almost beyond belief.”
Feeling somewhat awkward, Ellis scuffed his foot and said, “Well, yes, Miss Elizabeth. Beyond belief is definitely one way of putting it.”
George Darcy scowled at his son and announced the evening’s fireworks had been cancelled due to inclement weather.
Lizzy Bennet and her fiancé turned matching shades of pink. Fitzwilliam Darcy tugged at his cravat and again changed the subject by saying, “Ah, yes, how unfortunate. Speaking of inclement weather, it is regrettable the cooler temperatures at this time of year cause more and more people to burn coal. The fog we are experiencing tonight is not only natural but man-made as well, because of all the smoke.”
“Where there is smoke, there is fire,” remarked his frowning father, “and perhaps smoke and mirrors, as well. Somehow you two magically managed to conjure up your very own personal fireworks. Fitzwilliam, I hate to dis-illusion you; nevertheless, as soon as we return home, remind me to remind you about proper public comportment.”
Almost two weeks previously at a country assembly in Tutbury, near the border between Staffordshire and Derbyshire, Miss Caroline Bingley was obliged by a deplorable scarcity of interested gentlemen to sit down for all the dances. She impatiently listened to Miss Endura Chatsworth’s blathering until the third last set ended. At that moment Miss Bingley’s attention was not at all on her wearisome new female acquaintance but rather on the fascinating young male who had mingled and danced all evening but, to Caroline’s frustration, had apparently not been interested in obtaining an introduction to her. He was tall, devilishly handsome, smartly attired, and somehow familiar; but she could not place where she might have seen him previously. Miss Bingley knew he was intelligent and well-spoken, because by then the fellow stood not five feet away conversing with her aunt and an elderly neighbour, Sir Lance Boyle. The three suddenly looked in her direction; and Caroline fidgeted and played with her bracelets while she watched the smiling, swaggering stranger approach.
Sir Lance said, “Miss Bingley, please allow me to introduce to you Mr. George Wickham, the son of an acquaintance of mine and, coincidentally, a good friend of your brother. Mr. Wickham, may I present Miss Caroline Bingley, who is the niece of Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett Piers.” The elderly gentleman then introduced Wickham to Miss Chatsworth.
The young man bowed and said, “It is my very great pleasure to meet you both. Miss Bingley, if you are not already engaged for the last set, may I have the pleasure of standing up with you?” He smiled charmingly at her friend and added, “I must apologize, Miss Chatsworth, but not having been introduced to you before, I regret I have already asked for the remainder of the dances with other young ladies.”
So, during the last set, Wickham spoke enthusiastically to Miss Bingley about his long-standing friendship with her brother as well as with the esteemed Darcy family, his extensive education at Cambridge, and his thorough knowledge of the grand estate of Pemberley. Caroline was enthralled.
To give credit where credit is due, the hard-working fellow was truly on his way to becoming an exemplary steward. Be that as it may, George Wickham had not abandoned his rakish behaviour. While knowing it was wrong to lead her astray, he could not convince himself to discontinue a seduction. If Bingley had been present, Wickham would never have dared to pursue a friend’s sister. Caroline had a lovely smile when she took the bother to do so and possessed a sharp, cutting wit. He admired her audacious fashion sense, and Miss Bingley was certainly handsome enough to tempt him … as were most young women.
And so it was that Caroline met her future husband and was granted her wish of never relinquishing a connection to her precious Pemberley.
Never before the object of such admiration and attention, Miss Bingley let his fawning and flattery go to her head; and Wickham put considerable effort into wooing and weaselling his way in there. He traveled to and fro between Derbyshire and her uncle’s Staffordshire estate and picked wildflowers along the way to present to her. With masterly finesse, he smooth-talked his way straight into her heart.
One fateful afternoon as the couple strolled the grounds, Mrs. Ann Teak complained of a terrible headache. Caroline nittered and nattered, jibbered and jabbered without intermission about how much she was grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad headache, and how excessively she disliked being ill herself. She finally insisted the elderly woman go inside to rest and then thought no more of the matter.
Carpe diem! Wickham wasted no time that day and immediately seized the carping young woman in a passionate embrace.
Overcome by the manly smell of shaving soap and his well-placed grope, down the slippery slope Caroline tumbled and breathlessly asked, “Shall we elope and end my forlorn hope?”
Overcome by the womanly smell of jasmine soap and her well-placed grope, down the same slippery slope Wickham tumbled; and, without thought, he recklessly answered, ‘yes’ instead of ‘nope’.
Miss Bingley had dropped all her prior resentment of Elizabeth Bennet and, instead of writing to Charles about her suitor, she took advantage of that lady’s kind invitation to correspond. In her letter, Caroline succinctly explained she had never been romantic and wanted only a home at Pemberley. “My dear Miss Elizabeth, considering Mr. Wickham’s connections and situation in life, I am convinced my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state. I hope, my friend, once you are settled in the cold northern clime, you will not be blue with envy over my living on the finer Darcy estate. Your also-engaged friend, Caroline.” Although usually quite fastidious with her penmanship, Miss Bingley had written the direction remarkably ill; and the letter had been delivered elsewhere and would only catch up with its recipient many weeks later in Northumberland.
The scheming couple met at midnight and headed for Gretna Green under cover of darkness. But Wickham did not get far, neither with Caroline nor with the inadequate spending money he had in his possession. Although very conscientious with Pemberley funds, George had been drawing his own bustle too freely and soon found himself nearly on the rocks. It became necessary to stay at an inn on the second night; and at the lady’s insistence, it was spent in separate rooms. Until they were legally married, she refused to give in to any of his further advances. Wickham then had to sheepishly explain to Caroline he needed to return with important estate papers for his father; and because of having to rent two rooms instead of one, his lodging allowance was already spent. They would barely have enough blunt to buy meals on their way back to Pemberley; and after that, he would be run quite off his legs. The trip to Scotland was, therefore, abandoned.
Waiting to leg-shackle the disgraced couple upon their return were Mr. Hugh Wickham, Mr. Bartlett Piers, and the Reverend Mr. Wingrave; the parson’s mousetrap was to clamp down on Caroline and George in a pretty little chapel in Lambton the following evening.
With money provided by her outraged uncle, the uneasy bride, in company with the parson’s wife, went shopping the next morning in the small market town for a new dress to wear at her impromptu wedding. Caroline Bingley was in a daze and hardly noticed the pretty ivory gown with palest of blue pinstripes. It was the only readily available option in her size; and the young woman knew she would probably never don it again, for it just did not have enough vibrancy for her taste. Mrs. Wingrave thought the frock was quite fetching and said, “Miss Bingley, orange you glad you could not squash yourself into that appalling pumpkin-pigmented garment? Who on earth would have the ghastly fashion sense and audacity to wear such a horrid hue?” The older woman was mortified to realize her companion was, in fact, already attired in an atrocious carroty creation.
At the chapel later that same evening while waiting for the menfolk, Mrs. Wingrave could not help but notice the bride was extremely fretful. Earlier in the day, the clergyman’s wife had the onerous task of explaining certain aspects of married life to the unfortunate, motherless bride. However, the matron correctly assumed Miss Bingley’s apprehension was unrelated to that awkward conversation.
When asked the reason for her anxiety, Miss Bingley said, “This is all very sudden. I … am … ” Caroline had begun to worry she was about to become a tenant for life with a loose fish. While shopping, she had overheard whispered remarks about George Wickham being quite the rake. Unwilling to admit to Mrs. Wingrave, or herself, that she had possibly made a very grave mistake, Caroline raised her chin and voiced a totally different concern, “I am afraid I will not remember what to do during the ceremony.”
“Ah. Well, my dear, it is very simple. You only need remember three things. First is the aisle you will have to walk down; second is the altar where your groom will be waiting; and third is the hymn we will sing during the service.” Miss Bingley nervously gulped and nodded her head in understanding.
When everyone was finally in place, the ceremony commenced. Armin-arm with her uncle, Caroline stared straight ahead and softly repeated the three words she needed to remember. As she approached the petrified groom, he was horrified to hear, “Aisle-altar-hymn. Aisle-alter-him. I’ll-alter-him.” On the other hand, the rest of the tiny congregation hoped it just might be possible.
It was done. Caroline Bingley became Mrs. George Wickham during a wedding ceremony conducted by candlelight. Unfortunately, their passion burned for only a wick. In spite of that, with her marriage Caroline got a new name and a-dress. She should have been pleased by the fact her new address was a cottage on a three-hundred-foot cliff at the very edge of Pemberley’s border; and perhaps Caroline was content, or it might have been a big bluff. Regardless, one thing was certain … the Wickhams were a fastidious couple. He was fast, and she was tedious.
Any thought of those two actually reproducing would be almost unbearable and rather inconceivable; so, fortunately for the world, Caroline proved to be quite impregnable. Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham remained childless and childish. Of course, people may only be young once; but they can be immature forever.
While Jane and Elizabeth shopped with their mother and Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy had arrived at the Bennet townhouse and was directed by Baines to the sitting room to await Elizabeth’s imminent return. Mr. Bennet read the newspaper while his two youngest children sat on the floor, under the watchful eye of Miss Edwards, the governess. Lydia played with her favourite porcelain doll, Miss Michelle, which Robert’s tin soldier was persistently attempting to engage in a kiss.
“Papa, please tell Robert to stop. Mish does not care to be kissed. Gag a maggot, boys are icky!”
“You keep on believing that for another fifteen years or so, Lydia. However, I highly doubt your eldest sister would agree with you about kissing a soldier. I am reasonably certain Jane does not consider Colonel Fitzwilliam the least bit icky. Robert, leave Miss Mish alone.”
Darcy was more often at the Bennet home than his own and was already considered another member of the family rather than a visitor. Mr. Bennet nodded as the young man entered the room and picked up a discarded section of the newspaper. Cato the Philoso-fur immediately leapt onto his lap, and Darcy stroked its gingery coat as he perused the articles. After a few moments he commented, “I see the Prince Regent has coined a new phrase. Whenever someone curses luridly, ‘Prinny’ says, ‘He swears like Lady Lade.’ I daresay Lady Letitia Derby’s profanity could not hold a candle to my aunt, Lady Catherine der Bug … I mean de Bourgh. Her long-winded cusses would make a sailor blush.”
Prissy and missish Miss Catherine entered the room, frowned with reproof at the mention of bad language, curtsied to Mr. Darcy, and then said to her sister, “Lydia, as requested, I have done a reproof, edited, and written out a good copy of the foolish folly you and Robert composed.”
Mr. Bennet put down his Morning Chronicle and reached for the handwritten sheets containing the story, which was titled The Hanson Barberin. The tale was inspired by Robert Bennet and composed in collaboration with his precocious seven-year-old sister, Miss Lydia. The anecdote was then edited by strait-laced one-and-ten-year-old Miss Kitty, who somehow missed expurgating a certain section pertaining to where a young lady was kissed. Their father settled back in his chair, adjusted his spectacles, and began to read aloud:
“Once upon a time there was a handsome barbarian. A barbarian is a barber who works in a library. His name was Mister Daresay because he always said, ‘I daresay’. Mr. Daresay loved books. He slept between the covers, wore a dust-jacket, ate from a bookplate, and put a bookworm on his hook when he went fishing. One day his dog-eared hound, Mythter E. Tail, started to eat a spine-chilling mystery novel; and Mr. Daresay had to take the words right out of his mouth.
Mr. Daresay did his barbering in the library. He shaved and cut hair for lots of customers who were aristocrats. The library had more nobles than the royal court because of all the titles.
Mr. Daresay had a good friend who was a Knight. Sir Cular wrote handbills for Mr. Daresay’s excellent barbering. Whenever Sir Cular read a book from Mr. Daresay’s library, his Page was always at his side. Sir Cular had a sister, Miss Bizzy Lennet. Mr. Daresay and Miss Lennet loved one another very much. One day the handsome barbarian got all gooshy and kissed her in a very private place.
They were hiding behind a bookshelf. They thought no one saw them, but her brother and sisters all did. Mr. Daresay gave each of Bizzy’s siblings a pony. Then they all lived happily ever after. The end.”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and looked over his spectacles to the spectacle of his blushing future son. “Is this enlightening account a product of my children’s over-active imaginations; or is it, in fact, based on fact?”
His fiancée had just entered the room and saved Darcy from further embarrassment as she spoke with enthusiasm of the new establishment she, her sister, mother, and aunt had discovered. The combination draper and bookshop had provided hours of material enjoyment as the ladies browsed amongst the text-aisles. Many volumes of ware to wear and read had been ordered.
Red-faced Fitzwilliam Darcy was thankful for the diversion, and he desperately hoped the other gentleman would believe the entire Hanson Barberin story was fiction. Non-friction between Lizzy’s father and himself was vitally important. Of course, the notion of him being a scissor-wielding barber was shear nonsense; nevertheless, the truth was he had gotten all gooshy and kissed Elizabeth in a very private place, indeed … behind the bookshelves. Drawing on his masterly command of the English language, Darcy said nothing.
The Darcy and Fitzwilliam families were the first arrivals at Pemberley, with the two de Bourgh ladies and Ellis Fleming close on their heels. Bingley showed up early the next day from neighbouring Staffordshire, and the three carriages conveying the Bennets and Gardiners were expected to roll in late that afternoon. The Anglican clergyman, Reverend Mr. Godfrey, was not expected to present himself until the eve of the wedding; and all the guests would arrive following the early-afternoon marriage ceremony. Because the three fiancés had each procured special licenses, their solemnization of matrimony rites did not have to take place in the morning or, in fact, even in the parish church.
The grand estate was in a state of organized chaos. Gardeners, huntsmen, labourers, cooks, maids, footmen, valets, coachmen, and the gamekeeper all had a hand in the preparations. Weeks previously, a steady stream of delivery carts had begun traveling the road to Pemberley from Lambton and London. Although Ellis Fleming and the Bennets were fairly flush in the pockets, it was not every day three members of two illustrious families such as the Darcys and Fitzwilliams were wed in the same ceremony; so no expense was being spared for the special event. Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds directed the flow of traffic as provisions flowed in for the nuptials and a lavish celebration to follow.
Heavy crates of fine wine, spirits, and champagne, courtesy of Mr. Gardiner, were carried to the cellar under the direction and watchful eye of Owen Reynolds. When told where to store the white wine, one footman gave the butler a blanc stare while another servant was ordered to lock up the vintage red wine in a cabernet. Unfortunately, the latter fellow accidentally broke a bottle, and the ruby-coloured liquid ended up on his livery, which earned the young man a scathing look of dis-stain from Mr. Reynolds. The clumsy servant winked at the other footman and said, “This drink is on me.”
During the days, hours, and minutes leading up to the wedding, Pemberley’s massive kitchen was a very heated place. Tempers sizzled, workers were steamed, and the new chef, Mr. Eggleston, lambasted his cooks. Despite being a cantankerous supervisor who often beat eggs and whipped cream, Mr. Eggleston was undeniably a very gouda chef who created grate delicacies from Cheddar, Cheshire, as well as Wensleydale. Nevertheless, the kitchen workers often referred to ‘Eggy’ as a munster or some other equally cheesy name. One emotional onion-mincing minion, Mrs. Culpepper, was particularly astir and mixed up; yet she took it with a grain of salt when Eggleston had a beef with her lumpy gravy. He grilled and roasted the poor woman and called her ham-fisted. While Mrs. Culpepper inwardly simmered and stewed, she was inspired to calmly ask what the chef thought about serving honeymoon salad.
Tetchy Eggleston haughtily inquired, “And just what, pray tell, is honeymoon salad, Culpepper?”
“Lettuce alone, sir!”
Eggleston sniffed, lifted his chin, and looked down his nose at the baker, “You need to knead the dough faster, Mrs. Butterfield. It is the yeast you can do, and you should know batter by now.”
The baker may have been a gluten for punishment; all the same, when her shift in the kitchen ended, she left with a loathe of bread. The next morning when she started work again, Mrs. Butterfield noticed one of the large fruitcakes she had made days previously had been cut. She was not, however, the only woman one slice short of a loaf. The half-baked guilty party, in her toasty guest bedchamber, chastised her seasoned maid for not having pinched, poached, or purloined another crumby slice; and the harridan’s leavened, unsavoury language was most distasteful until the Lady’s daughter, Anne de Bourgh, arrived with a glass of laudanum-infused sherry.
It might be supposed he would have been of a disposition in which happiness overflowed in mirth the days before being united in wedlock with Elizabeth Bennet. However, his family, relatives, friends, and servants hardly knew a more awful object than perfectionist Fitzwilliam Darcy on that particular occasion, at his ancestral home with nothing to do but fret. He drove Mrs. Reynolds to distraction with his concern for Elizabeth’s comfort while under Pemberley’s roof, and he interfered in every minuscule detail of the preparations for the celebration. Darcy vexed Crispin Knott, his elderly valet, when he changed attire no less than four times before finally being satisfied with his appearance the day of her arrival; and he worried and paced because the Bennet carriage had not arrived precisely at the expected hour.
“Fitzwilliam George Darcy!” admonished his mother. “Do cease being such a niggling, nagging, nettling nuisance and simply allow the servants to do their duties without making each and every little triviality into a monumental issue. They are beginning to wonder if royalty is actually expected, and I imagine Elizabeth would be horrified if she knew how you have been absolutely agonizing over her arrival.”
Georgiana agreed with her mother. “Really, brother, Elizabeth is quite easily pleased, does not have unreasonably high expectations, and cannot possibly be so very fussy. After all, she has agreed to marry you.”
“My, my, you are rather whimsical in your civility today, Georgie; and my pitiable friend, Fleming, obviously has extremely low standards to be willing to wed such a termagant.”
“Children, behave! Fitzwilliam, why do you not go for an invigorating walk or a ride to expend some of your jitters? Take Romulus and Remus with you. Your foxhounds have been underfoot almost as much as you and would surely benefit from the exercise. I believe Mr. Bingley, Ellis, James, and Richard are playing cricket on the back lawn. Please join your friends and cousins. Please.”
“But what if the Bennets should arrive while I am not here?”
Georgiana was more than happy to provide the answer. “Elizabeth would certainly never forgive such a blatant transgression. You would subsequently be forsaken by her, left at the altar, ridiculed by society, and forced to live out the rest of your miserable existence as a lonely recluse.”
“Leave your poor brother alone, Georgiana. He is beside himself. My dear son, you shall not be jilted; and I do believe your father, your youngest sister, this dear, sweet, sarcastic young lady here, and I can all manage the Herculean task of welcoming the royal family to Pemberley without your invaluable assistance. Go. Physical activity will provide a respite from nervous tension.”
Darcy obediently called for his hounds and made his way outside but not before he heard Lady Anne mutter, “Your being outdoors will provide a much needed respite for the rest of us, and we shall endeavour to somehow muddle through without your precious guidance.”
“I heard that, Mother!”
Darcy and his canine companions took a stroll along the meandering stream, but the young man remained attuned for the sound of carriage wheels descending the hill or sight of the Bennet equipage crossing the bridge. With no sign of Elizabeth’s imminent arrival, he decided to spare a few minutes to check on the backyard cricket players. Regrettably, Darcy and his dogs were about as welcome at the game as they had been inside the house, for Romulus took great delight in fetching the leather-seamed ball, thus ending the closely scored match.
When his beloved bride-to-be finally appeared through Pemberley’s front door, roughly forty-seven and a half minutes late, Fitzwilliam Darcy became overwhelmed by her very presence at his ancestral home; and he then drove himself to distraction with unbridled thoughts of connubial bliss. Unhappily for him, Elizabeth was almost instantly whisked away from his side; and he began to wonder why he had not considered whisking her away to Gretna Green.
Our journey to Northumberland would have been much shorter from Scotland than from Derbyshire, and I would have been spared hearing any further descriptions of lace and finery from all the females gathered above stairs.
Darcy was subsequently besieged by rampant visions of Elizabeth in satin and lace and deluged with pleasurable fantasies of further wedding-night conjugal delight.
Upon arrival, Elizabeth had been immediately caught up in a whirlwind of welcome, introduction to servants, and an inordinate amount of fussing from Georgiana, Anna, Lady Anne, and Anne de Bourgh. She was swept away to her sumptuous chambers and presented with her newly appointed abigail, Ann Cillary.
Yet another Anne? Surely the number of Annes associated with Fitzwilliam’s family is an ann-omaly.
Although her opulent rooms were spacious, the bedchamber, sitting room, and dressing areas were inundated with a flurry of activity as her trunks were unpacked and refreshments served. Mrs. Reynolds and a bevy of maids saw to her every comfort; and Lizzy suspected her perfectionist fiancé was behind all the fluster, fuss, and foofaraw.
The Bennet children thought Pemberley was almost as fine a place as Longbourn, and Lydia and Robert enthusiastically met the numerous Darcy pets with squeals of glee that sent the poor creatures running for cover. When he was denied access to his fiancée, Fitzwilliam Darcy invited the two youngest Bennets to the barn to show them the tabby kittens that had been born in the summer, several weeks before their sisters’ first fateful visit to the estate. Darcy cherished time spent with the siblings of his beloved Elizabeth especially Robert, who was adorable, and Lydia, who was a younger version of Lizzy.
The youngsters already loved their sister’s tall, handsome fiancé like a brother; and as they walked, Darcy held their tiny hands and envisioned having his own family.
The dark-haired little girl looked up and said, “Mr. Darcy, your family certainly has quite a maginary of animals.”
“Miss Lydia, I believe you mean we have a menagerie; because I assure you Pemberley’s pets, birds, reptiles, amphibians, barn cats, horses, sheep, and cattle are quite real rather than imaginary. In fact, can you imagine an imaginary menagerie manager imagining managing an imaginary menagerie?”
“Good grief, sir. Sometimes I cannot easily make sense of all your wordy words. I may not be able to say maginary min … whatever you said, yet I can spell it.”
“Really? Very well, spell it for me.”
“I - T.”
Tare an’ hounds! I am such an easily caught gudgeon. “You are perfectly right, Miss Lydia; and no one admitted to the privilege of hearing your impertinent wit, so like your sister’s, can think anything wanting.” Darcy then turned to the little boy on his other side. “And you, my fine young man, are much too quiet this afternoon. Is everything well with you, Robert?”
“Yeth, Mither Darthy.” The wee tot walked along in silence for a few moments, with his thumb in his mouth, and then said, “Do you hafta kith Libazeth on your marrying day?”
Good God, what now? “Well, Master Robert, that is certainly not a subject a gentleman normally speaks of with another. To kiss and tell is just not proper, you see. That said, I love your sister very much; so, yes, I do hope to … ah, kiss Elizabeth tomorrow after she becomes my wife.”
“But why? It hurts to kith on the lips!”
Bloody hell! This is not a conversation one wants to be having with one’s three-year-old soon-to-be-brother-in-law. “Ah, poppet, why are you under the impression it hurts?”
Lydia quickly answered, “Oh, I know what he means, sir. That day we caught you kissing Lizzy behind the bookshelves you were moaning and groaning and said ‘Oh, Elizabeth!’ as if you were in terrible pain. And then you kissed her neck, and then you … ”
“Enough! This is exceedingly inappropriate!” Darcy dropped their hands in order to run his own through his hair but stopped short of pulling it out. Thank God, we are at the barn. I shall surely be the world’s worst father if these two are any indication. The imps have me wrapped around their little fingers already. “Did you know we have a number of ponies here at Pemberley? Perhaps, if you are both very well behaved today and tomorrow, you might be allowed to choose one to take home with you to Longbourn.”
Lydia happily skipped behind the gentleman’s back to reach her brother’s side. While Darcy hastily strode on toward sanctuary in the barn, Lydia whispered to Robert, “See! I told you it would work.”
Darcy and Elizabeth had not been granted a private moment since her arrival, and they both suffered a bereft afternoon of longing for the other’s company. Lizzy, agitated and confused, rather knew that she was happy, than felt herself to be so. She had always imagined being at Longbourn to prepare for her wedding day; and although she was pleased to be at Pemberley again, her life suddenly seemed overwhelmingly unsettled. It was a comfort to be surrounded by the familiar faces of loved ones, friends, and new relations while in strange surroundings; yet knowing she would not be leaving with her beloved parents and siblings when they journeyed home to Hertfordshire was fairly disconcerting. Elizabeth experienced an evanescent sensation she was totally unready to leave her father’s affection and protection for that of a man with whom she had been acquainted for such a short time. There was no uncertainty in Lizzy’s heart regarding her love for Darcy, yet so much remained for her to learn about the man.
What does Fitzwilliam expect of me? Will I be capable of running our household in accordance with his perfectionist standards? And the estate in Northumberland is so very, very far from home. Silly goose! Northumbrella shall soon be my home. Oh, why does it feel as if I am leaving everything comfortable and familiar for a life full of the unknown? This must be what is meant by cold feet. And what of our wedding night? Silly girl! Every marriage begins with a time of adjustment to the sudden intimacy of living with a spouse, and Fitzwilliam and I will have a week here together at Pemberley before departing on the bridal tour with Anna and Mary. Oh, Jane! Are you having similar trepidations about your own future? I need to discuss these anxieties with you before we part. Will you and I even have such an opportunity for private conversation before the wedding?
Jane desperately wished for privacy as well. She and the Colonel had managed to escape, unnoticed, for a stroll in Pemberley’s garden. Miss Bennet, however, did not have any qualms about the wedding night or spending a lifetime with the fine-looking man walking arm-in-arm with her. Jane very much looked forward to becoming Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam, in every way, and wished he would kiss her then and there despite the risk of being discovered. By doing so in the next moment, Colonel Stud-muffin proved once again he was incredibly proficient at kissing, utterly irresistible, and equally desirous of their upcoming union.
Elizabeth’s fiancé, banished from the unbridled goings-on of the bridal entourage, impatiently awaited the chance to see her again. Darcy knew from the expression on his beloved’s face before fussing females engulfed her that she was overwhelmed, and he was fraught with the need to comfort her … and to also give an explanation about the pony that would undoubtedly be accompanying her family back to Longbourn.
Lady Anne descended the main staircase and caught sight of her son as he paced and twisted his signet ring. She moved to his side and stilled his nervous actions with a gentle touch on his arm. “Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and her family are resting now after their journey. You will see her at dinner and may even find an opportunity to steal your bride away for a few moments afterward. It is not unusual, you know, for both brides and grooms to be nervous before their wedding. At least you both have the advantage of knowing, without a doubt, you love one another. That is rare at the onset, and affection often only develops after a couple has been wed for years. Be assured this uneasiness you are experiencing is normal on the eve of your marriage.”
“You misunderstand my restlessness, Mother. I have not the slightest hesitation as regards my future happiness with Elizabeth. My concern right now is solely for her enjoyment of tomorrow’s events. I wish everything to be absolutely perfect.”
Lady Anne sighed. “Of course you do, my meticulous son. I guarantee it shall not be the case, neither during the day of your wedding nor through the course of your lives together. Relax and realize it will not be the end of the world if you have a speck of lint on your coat, a blemish on your face, or a hair out of place.”
Without thought, Darcy brushed at his lapel, checked his appearance in the hallway mirror, and ran a hand through his impeccably arranged curls. His mother laughed at his predictable actions, and he sheepishly glanced at her. “Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth will not think less of you should you mumble, jumble, or fumble your way through the vows tomorrow; and in the grand scheme of things, such stumbles are inconsequential. We all make mistakes; and you must learn to not only take lessons from them but to laugh at yourself as well. You are marrying for love, and that is all you need to remember. Lighten up, dear, and enjoy life.”
“I am learning, Mother, with Elizabeth’s help. What do I not owe her? She taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By her I was enlightened on the subject of lightening up; and although I may not be ready to shrug off being a bumbling, barbaric buffoon, I am making progress.”
Dinner was served in the early hours that evening so everyone would have a good night’s sleep, and the Bennet children were permitted to be at the table with the adults. Robert was seated next to his mother so she could help cut his meat and clamp her hand over his mouth if he started to blurt something inappropriate. The little boy was behaving well but did manage to upset his cup of milk, which caused his eyes to well up and his lower lip to jut out. Before the child could begin to cry, Fitzwilliam Darcy was quick to intervene. “That is quite all right, poppet. Remember, there is no point in crying over spilt milk. In fact, I am sure Cato cries for spilt milk; and you simply must tell me now what mischief the Philosofur has gotten into since last I saw him.”
The boy brightened immediately and happily launched into alarmingly detailed descriptions of the dead mouse Cato had proudly presented to their visiting minister and the impressive furball the kitten had hacked up for Mary’s genteel school friends. Robert then gave an account of the time the little cat had jumped onto their dining room table, in the middle of the second course, the evening surly Sir Lee King was a dinner guest. The poppet was about to give an account of what happened when Lizzy’s former roommates from St. Trinnean’s Seminary for Young Ladies visited recently when Mr. Bennet interjected, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.”
The two mothers of the three brides had been chatting about their yearning for grandchildren, as mothers of a certain age often do, and had totally missed Robert’s eloquent elucidation. “Lady Anne, do you suppose by this time next year one of us might be a grandmother?”
“Yes, I do hope to hear the pitter-patter of little feet again before long. But, Mrs. Bennet, we are practically family now. So, if you please, Anne will do just fine.”
“Thank you. My name is Frances, but I prefer to be called Franny or Fanny. Actually, I wish for someone to call me Grandmama. Oh, that would sound very sweet, would it not, Lady Anne?”
“My dear Fanny, I have asked you to drop my title. Please, just refer to me as Anne.”
“Thank you. I am honoured. In fact, I will be so proud tomorrow that I shall practically be made of honour. Tell me, Anne, are you bringing extra handkerchiefs? I am sure I shall shed more than a few tears of happiness.”
From across the table and several seats down Mr. Bennet remarked, “Yes, my dear, it will most assuredly be a day for plenty of eye dew, although I believe the correct response is ‘I will.’”
His wife sighed and looked heavenward. “You see what I have had to endure these many long years? All the same, I cannot complain, as there has been much more laughter than tears. Follies and nonsense, whims, and inconsistencies do divert me, I own; and I laugh at them whenever I can. Nevertheless, I know I shall certainly weep at the ceremony. Oh Anne, we are both losing two very dear children on the morrow.”
“Not at all, Fanny. You must look upon the event as gaining two sons. The Darcy family will definitely benefit from the additions of Ellis and your lovely Elizabeth. Goodness, I now feel very foolish about losing consciousness the night of the ball. Elizabeth and Jane are exquisite young women, and you have done a superb job rearing your charming family.” Lady Anne smiled fondly at the little boy at Mrs. Bennet’s side.
Robert struggled with his fork, knife, and some rather recalcitrant peas while he listened to his mother’s conversation. “Mama, what is conshush-nuss?”
Before Mrs. Bennet could open her mouth to reply, from across the table Lady Catherine de Bourgh responded, “Consciousness, my dear little bug, is that annoying period between one’s doses of medicinal sherry.”
Fanny Bennet beamed with pride that her son, for once, had not been the one to come out with something rather inappropriate. She was, however, sympathetic to her friend’s mortified look.
“Never mind, Anne. Your sister is obviously your own family’s joker and is jest having fun with her-elations. Oh, dear! I assure you I am not usually one for wordplay, but lately I cannot seem to help myself. My puns may be sleep-inducing, but I keep laudanum anyway.”
When Lady Anne indicated it was time for the ladies to remove to the drawing room, her son also excused himself from the table and the men’s company. Fitzwilliam Darcy had had quite enough deprivation for one day and was determined to steal away with his fiancée for a few moments. His long strides easily caught up with her in the hall before she entered the room with the women. Mrs. Bennet was on her way upstairs to tuck in her children before she went to the drawing room; and although she glimpsed the couple in the hallway, she turned a blind eye to whatever the two had planned for their final night of bachelorhood and maidenhood. Darcy, drawing near, said to his bride, “Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of taking a walk with your husband-to-be?” She smiled but made no answer; and he repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.
“Oh,” said she, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. Yes, Mr. Darcy, I would very much like to seize … whatever it was you wanted me to seize.”
Good God! Darcy looked at her face and tried to determine if she was brazen or absent-minded, but he could not read her expression. You are not the only one affected, Lizzy. This time tomorrow night I will be your husband, and you will finally be … my wife! I am, as Mother described, beside myself. “Please seize my arm then, Miss Elizabeth, and accompany me to the shrubbery.”
Pelisse, greatcoat, gloves, and hats were donned; and they headed for the garden. As they strolled along the path, Darcy said, “Thank you once again, my dear, for agreeing to hold the ceremony here. It means a great deal to my family and me to be away from the prying eyes of society. Had we married in London from the Fitzwilliam and Darcy parish church near Mayfair, St. George’s would have been packed with curious members of the ton; and our special day would have been more of a circus than Astley’s Amphitheatre.”
“I cannot imagine a more lovely location for our wedding, sir.”
Darcy smiled with delight and asked, “So, what think you of Pemberley at this time of year, Elizabeth?”
“Your estate is equally impressive inside and outside, as is Pemberley’s heir. It is certainly as handsome as I remember, Fitzwilliam, but perhaps not as green as during summer. And there is not now that close, hot, heavy, sultry, damp, clinging feeling I recall being present previously.”
“You will never allow me to live that down, will you, minx? But come closer, my darling, and discover just how steamy conditions can be in Derbyshire even during late autumn.”
That evening the shades of Pemberley were very useful, not for shelter from the sun but for providing cover from prying eyes. After the embrace and kiss that did much to both slake and increase their hunger and thirst for one another, the gentleman hesitantly said, “Elizabeth, I could not help but notice your unease earlier this afternoon. Are you nervous about the ceremony, the celebration, or perchance apprehensive about our wedding night?”
“I admit I am, or was. Yet every moment spent with you finds me less and less worried and more … impatient.”
“Lizzy, tomorrow our vows will be made official. Even so, please allow me now to assure you I will always love, comfort, honour, and cherish you. And I will forever be faithful.”
“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. And I believe you should seal such a fervent commitment with a fervent kiss.” Most of Elizabeth Bennet’s anxieties were soon vanquished and vanished. She thought the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to be nervous or apprehensive on the eve of her wedding. As the engaged couple disengaged and strolled back to the house, she said, “It was very considerate of you, sir, to provide fireworks again for my first night at Pemberley. That kiss was another truly extraordinarily breathtaking experience, was it not?”
For his part, Darcy looked forward to the following night’s extraordinarily breathtaking experience. Like watching fireworks, he had high hopes for interesting shapes, lots of surprises, and banging. An uplifting display could be quite stimulating, but he worried about short fuses and explosive bursts. Good God, I must return to the house before I combust!
“Fitzwilliam? Do you not agree, sir?” When he made no answer, she repeated the question, with some surprise at his silence.
“Oh,” said he, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. But yes, my love, I quite agree with whatever it was you said.”
The night before the wedding, the gentlemen deprived themselves of the pleasure of the ladies’ company by secreting themselves away in the library to imbibe and play cards. Nevertheless, giggles, shrieks of laughter, and squeals of delight from the drawing room still occasionally reached their ears and disturbed their concentration.
“Whatever can they be discussing with such hilarity?” Ellis Fleming distractedly sorted through the cards he had been dealt and took a sip of his drink. The young man was still quite in awe of his future father-in-law and formidable uncle-in-law, the Earl of Matlock. Outward calm disguised Fleming’s case of nerves, and a third helpful snifter of excellent brandy increasingly caused a shift from tension to a feeling of euphoria.
“No doubt love, romance, and all things gooshy, as my son, Robert, would say,” Mr. Bennet replied and flicked a card onto the table. “I assure you, gentlemen, any hearts and diamonds being talked of in that other room bear little resemblance whatsoever to the ones being played here. Your turn, Mr. Bingley.”
“I think … ,” but Bingley’s words were drowned out by gales of laughter from down the hall.
Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and said, “Have they not heard Shakespeare’s line ‘Speak low, if you speak love’? Your turn, Bingley. Pay attention, man. Thunder and turf! I swear you are only playing with half a deck.”
“Sorry. I am worried about my sister. Anyone can tell the three marriages about to take place tomorrow will be very happy ones. However, Caroline and Wickham … ” Bingley shook his head as his queen of hearts was trumped by Mr. Gardiner’s ace, and he felt his sister’s happiness might also have been discarded. “In Lord Byron’s words, ‘Love without passion is dreary; passion without love is horrific.’ I am more than a little uneasy and fearful of Caroline’s future with Wickham. As you well know, his conduct has not always been quite right.”
“Well, Bingley, I suggest you get the upper hand and deal with the black-heart scoundrel. Deck him, if you must; or club the knave with a spade if that would suit you better.” The Colonel smirked as he played his trump card.
The soldier’s words did nothing to comfort Bingley, but George Darcy’s suited him better. “They will be here tomorrow, and you can judge for yourself. But young Wickham would not have tried to elope with your sister if he had not a real regard for her. I hope and trust they will yet be happy, and his consenting to marry her is a proof he has come to a right way of thinking. They will settle so quietly and live in so rational a manner as may in time make their past imprudence forgotten, and I will ensure they live free from hardship while he serves as my steward after his father retires next month.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Bingley with a sigh. “I do hope any affection Wickham feels for Caroline proves to be more than just a passion interest.”
The senior Darcy glanced at his son, who stood at a window. Pemberley’s heir stared into the night and absently stroked the head of one of his foxhounds. “Fitzwilliam, come and have another drink. It is normal to be a nervous groom, but do stop fretting and join us. Married life will not be quite so bad, you know.”
James Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Wentletrap, said, “Yes, consider, at least, the pleasurable aspects of the marriage bed and the children you will soon beget.” He suddenly remembered the lady’s father and uncle were in the room and mumbled, “Sorry, Bennet, Gardiner.”
Fitzwilliam Darcy began to pace. “I have no hesitation whatsoever in regard to marrying Miss Elizabeth. Life would be unbearable without her, and the money spent for the special license is the best investment I have ever made. I just wish everything to be perfect tomorrow, for her sake.”
“Perfection is very hard to attain, young man.” Mr. Gardiner gestured for a footman to pour the fretful fellow a drink. “Lizzy has always been an optimistic girl, and she will focus on the positive aspects of the ceremony and celebration rather than on any negative ones. Relax and enjoy yourself tonight.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam agreed. “I intend to have a few more drinks to steady my nerves, win a few more hands of cards, and then shuffle off to retire early. I want to be well rested and refreshed tomorrow, as it is the day for which I have been waiting these long weeks.”
Fleming, not yet quite in his cups but certainly half-sprung by that time, said, “I thought the date soldiers waited for was March 4th.”
“Ah, my friend, you forget I shall be resigning my commission directly after the honeymoon. As stated in Deuteronomy 24:5, ‘When a man hath taken a new wife, he shall not go out to war, neither shall he be charged with any business: (but) he shall be free at home one year, and shall cheer up his wife which he hath taken.’ It was time for me to resign anyway. I was getting fed up with army food. Tomorrow, however, I plan to be a desserter … a soldier who stuffs himself with wedding cake. Quite seriously though, gentlemen, I have mixed feelings about deserting my brothers in arms during this war against Boney. Be that as it may, I very much look forward to the challenge of becoming an astute estate owner.” Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at the man who would soon be his father-in-law and added, “Tomorrow I will be united with a member of a pun-loving family, and I must hone my skill in the use of new weapons. My arsenal will soon only consist of weapons for a literary war, such as the witty zinger and the pithy barb. Gentlemen, the pun is here to slay.”
The others groaned, and the Earl of Matlock cast his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. This Bennet family fondness for wordplay is quite out of control and obviously contagious. When the nobleman then asked if anyone was up for a game of billiards, Mr. Bennet stood, wobbled a bit, and said, “I do not have a cue how to play. All the same, I would certainly like to give it my best shot.”
Lord Matlock and Thomas Bennet walked unsteadily together toward the billiard room, and the former suggested his eldest son join them. James declined because he liked to play cards, though his father had been nagging him to re-deuce the amount of time spent gambling. Fitzwilliam Darcy knew of the Viscount’s checkered past and challenged him instead to a game of chess. The board was set up in front of the fireplace; and while they played, Darcy was surprised to hear his cousin speak glowingly of his expectant wife, Isabelle. Not to be outdone, the groom warmly praised Elizabeth, his lovely fiancée with the sparkling, intelligent eyes. Bingley came over to watch the match; but because of their proximity to the hearth, he soon became overheated and also grew tired of listening to chess nuts boasting by an open fire. If asked for an opinion, Charles would have favoured Miss Elizabeth Bennet as the more beautiful of the two women being discussed. The truth was plain and simple: Isabelle was plain, and her husband was simple.
Before retiring for the night, some of the older gentlemen gave the grooms a few words of advice. Thomas Bennet’s speech was a trifle slurred as he said, “Gentlemen, I offer you a small pearl of wishdom that has served this old married man well through the years. Can you guessh the three magic words you must use to ensure a happy and healthy marriage?”
Both were rather reluctant and embarrassed to voice the words aloud; nevertheless, his two sons-in-law, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam, dutifully gave the obvious answer in unison. “I love you?”
“Excellent answer! Please feel free to shay those words to my daughters often, but the three I recommend mosht are ‘You are right, dear.’”
Edward Gardiner rather gleefully pointed out the fact that had actually been four words and then saluted the three young men with his glass of port. “Here’s to a good sense of humour and a short memory.”
As they all staggered their way upstairs, Richard asked his older brother whether he had any advice for domestic felicity. James put his arm around his sibling’s shoulder and answered, “Sorry, Rich. As far as I know, the secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.”
The ladies, having long since retired, were not, however, all asleep in their own bedchambers. Lady Anne engaged an apprehensive Georgiana in a heart-to-heart conversation about matters of the heart and other hearty organs. Jane, Lizzy, Mrs. Bennet, and Mrs. Gardiner gathered in Jane’s room for a further discussion of what the brides could expect the following night and during their marriages in general. Mrs. Bennet hoped the physical side of their relationships would be as pleasurable as hers had been with her dear husband of twenty-two years, and she had already given her two eldest daughters separate talks on that aspect of married life soon after their engagements.
During that earlier preparatory tutelage, Elizabeth had been flummoxed. “Mama! You were in the middle of explaining wifely duties and marital relations and abruptly changed the subject. What is this nonsense about not having to settle for only a missionary position? I am getting married and am not at all interested in spreading God’s word in a foreign, heathen country. Not once has Fitzwilliam mentioned our taking on such a mission. In fact, he would most likely consider it quite beneath him. Although it may imply we are wrapped up in ourselves, I cannot imagine he and I ever being satisfied in doing such a deed.”
Mrs. Bennet had set her straight on the matter but had difficulty keeping a straight face while doing so, and she also assured Lizzy she could be rather nicely satisfied in such a position.
Although Lizzy was still a tad uneasy and Jane eager, their mother was more concerned with their emotional well being. “Girls, I am giving you some literature I hope you will consult. The first two are Sermons to Young Women by Dr. James Fordyce and A Father’s Legacy to his Daughter by Dr. James Gregory. Please read both books, and then ignore everything those two pompous asses have instructed, particularly the former. This author, however,” Mrs. Bennet held up Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, “is an inspiration.”
Elizabeth said, “I have already read Wollstonecraft and have even discussed the work with Fitzwilliam. I am entering into marriage with a man who respects women and considers us rational beings worthy of education. Lady Anne has been a strong influence in his life, and he cares very deeply for his sisters and wants them to be well-rounded individuals. If we are to be blessed with a daughter, I know he will feel the same about her. Fitzwilliam will be an excellent father.” Having voiced her thoughts, Elizabeth began to relax again and look forward to a happy life with a wonderful man.
Madeleine Gardiner hugged her and remarked, “Lizzy, you are very fortunate to have found such a fine gentleman. Then again, men are like coffee: the best ones are rich, warm … and can keep you up all night long.”
Jane and Elizabeth coloured and laughed; and the former exclaimed, “Aunt, I am shocked! But you still have my deepest affection. Lizzy and I are both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards you. By taking us into Derbyshire, you have been the means of uniting us with the very special men we shall wed tomorrow. We never wanted to marry solely for status or for the matri-money; and your marriage, and Mama and Papa’s, influenced our hope we could really marry for love. Thank you both for setting perfect examples.”
Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, “Oh, my dear Jane, no marriage is perfect. We all have our share of vexation, so please do not enter the married state with expectations of perpetual bliss and perfection. Arguments will certainly occur; so take my advice, and never go to bed angry. Just go to bed with him … a lot.”
“Mama!”
“I am teasing, Jane. Yet, truthfully, never go to bed angry. Always stay awake and argue until your husband realizes you are right.”
“Mother!”
“I am sorry for being so silly. You have found a gentleman who loves you very much, dear; and I am sure your Richard will be a sensible husband willing to discuss, understand, and respect your views.”
Jane nodded in agreement and decided to share a story she had recently heard from him. “Although Viscount Wentletrap and his wife are now behaving in a more civil manner toward one another, my future brother and sister-in-law were not always so thoughtful. Richard told me of the time he was traveling by carriage with them to Rosings Park, and the couple said not a word to the other for many miles. Before departing, they had been involved in a rather nasty argument; and both stubbornly refused to concede their position. As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats, and pigs, the Viscountess sarcastically asked, ‘Relatives of yours, James?’ Her husband replied, ‘Yes, my in-laws.’”
Their laughter filtered out into the hallway; and as the Viscount stumbled toward his wife’s bedchamber, he wondered what in the world the ladies found so vastly amusing at that ungodly hour of the night.
Elizabeth Bennet was in a bed, under his roof, so near and yet so far. The union would take place in a matter of hours, yet Fitzwilliam Darcy wanted her as his wife then and there. He paced in his bedchamber, restless with unexpended energy, unfulfilled needs, and vascular congestion. Lusty yawns aside, he doubted he would sleep at all that night and knew it would be extremely hard in such a turgid state of frustration. His ravenous appetite was aroused; and although that hunger would not be sated, perhaps there was something he could do about a craving for something sweet and warm. Darcy headed for the kitchen and the desired hot chocolate.
As he had expected, workers were still astir; and loyal Mrs. Reynolds was on hand to supervise last minute arrangements. When the housekeeper inquired why he had not simply rung for a tray, Darcy replied, “Well, in addition to having a hard … time getting to sleep, I was hor … horribly hungry and also wanted to check on preparations for tomorrow.”
“Sir, I assure you everything is proceeding as it should. You must not concern yourself with such matters. It is very late, and you should be asleep. Now, what can I fetch for you?” Once his request was made, Mrs. Reynolds prepared his hot chocolate just the way he preferred it and set the mug before her young master at the large wooden table.
“Mrs. Reynolds, will you and Mr. Reynolds be at the wedding ceremony?”
“Of course, sir. Your parents have already kindly requested our presence, and Owen and I are honoured to attend. Now, please excuse me. I really must continue with my duties.”
She hurried to her office and went over the list of tasks to be accomplished before she could catch a few hours of sleep. Darcy sipped his warm drink and thought he might abscond with a scone and retire to his bedchamber.
The workers hustled and bustled around the enormous room, nervously glanced at their young master, and wondered why, of all places, he was in their midst on the eve of his nuptials.
Darcy’s family, friends, and fiancée were all in their beds, snoozing, snuggling, snogging, or snoring; but the young man did not want to be alone with his wayward thoughts. The servants’ chatter, however, did nothing to alleviate his torment; and he caught segments of their conversations as they scurried about the kitchen.
“ … and where’s the tureen fer that blasted clear meat soup? What’s it called? Consummate?”
“Nay, it’s consommé, mate.”
“Ain’t there larger punch bowls? I thought we had a couple.”
“They’re on the top shelf. Careful of your noggin. You don’t wanna get bonked.”
“Ah, Susie me luv, if yer offerin’, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ boinked.”
“Oh, shove off, Randy, and go to bed!”
“I’ve done finished the cider, Kate. Now what should I make, luv?”
“Lud, I can’t remember what vegetables bloody Eggleston wanted me to pick. Was it potatoes, turnip, carrots, and ravish?”
“That’s radish, corkbrain! And if Eggy hears you, he’ll be givin’ you a headache to sleep with.”
“Why can’t I just leave them apple cores and peelings here tonight? Them horses can wait fer a treat. It’s too bloody cold out, the stable’s too far, and I don’t want to go all the way.”
“Oh stop bein’ such a baby, and just go do it!”
“See this here iron pan? Keep pesterin’ me, and it and yer backside are gonna become intimate!”
“Well, now, that’s a fine way to talk, ain’t it? You need to learn gooder social intercourse.”
“Don’t dare touch them biscuits! I’m savin’ ‘em fer Nick, Kate.”
“AARGH!!!” The astonished servants froze in their places and gaped as Pemberley’s heir sprang from his chair and ran out the kitchen door into the frosty night without first donning a coat.
After cooling off in the frigid air, Darcy returned to his lonely bedchamber and attempted to get his mind out of the smutty gutter by familiarizing himself with the beautiful words he would have to repeat during the wedding ceremony. He located his well-worn Anglican Book of Common Prayer and found next to it his copy of the ‘good book’. He picked up the latter and muttered, “Better yet, I should peruse this one; there are certain passages I should know, in the biblical sense.”
The gentlemen had thought the previous evening’s female clamour was rather diverting; however, on the morning after the night before, their aching heads wished for quietude and calm. George Darcy was not suffering from the repercussions of imbibitions of spirits but rather from the spirited activity rampant in his home. A giggling bridesmaid, giggling maids, and giggling maidens joined the cacophony of yipping, yapping, and barking dogs. Shrieks of laughter followed shrieks of shock as a wet Maltese, that resembled a drowned white rat, shook itself in Georgiana’s chamber; and squeals of delight resounded as the beautiful brides presented themselves to admiring family, friends, relatives, and one another.
Ellis Fleming, Thomas Bennet, the Earl of Matlock, and the Viscount Wentletrap were all a little worse for wear; and Mrs. Reynolds, who was already overworked, was asked to prepare a batch of her remedial elixir. Pemberley’s excellent housekeeper had not been bestowed that accolade without having earned it, and the tincture had already been brewed the evening before in anticipation of its requirement. The remedy was in the gentlemen’s hands and upset stomachs post-haste; and as the morning wore on, the men’s mental capacities proportionally increased from bags of hammers to their normal intensive intelligence.
Mrs. Bennet had heard a new wedding rhyme that was supposed to be lucky, and she insisted her daughters and Miss Darcy should have every advantageous start to good marriages. Therefore, each bride incorporated into her preparations something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sixpence in her shoe.
Georgiana proudly wore her late grandmother’s strand of lustrous pearls, and the required silver coin had been sewn into the lining of the left foot of her new pair of dainty slippers. Pretty jewelled hairpins, belonging to her mother, held her blonde tresses in place; and both her silk gown and the ring Ellis had given when he proposed were blue.
Jane and Elizabeth wrapped delicate pieces of lace from Mrs. Bennet’s own wedding gown around their fragrant bouquets, and sixpences had been sewn into satin slippers. They donned pearl earrings borrowed from their Aunt Gardiner and blue ribbon garters. The mother of the brides watched as pretty new bonnets with lace veils were carefully placed upon her daughters’ coiffed tresses. Mrs. Bennet lovingly kissed her daughters’ cheeks and tried her best to hold back tears, to no a-veil.
In Fitzwilliam Darcy’s dressing room he and Crispin Knott argued, as usual, over the gentleman’s attire. The elderly valet had been chastised over his choice of cravat and knot and was quite put out. “Sir, with all due respect, there is no need for such a tie-rant on your wedding day. Please stop fidgeting and allow me to finish this complicated new knot.”
“Knott, I am the one who will actually tie the knot this afternoon. The choice is mine, and I insist upon a white silk knotted in the Oriental. Please fetch that neckcloth; and while you are at it, these trousers have been de-pleated. Please have them pressed again.”
Behind Darcy’s back, the valet made a face and asked, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Well, what do you think about the plain ivory waistcoat? I know you prefer the embroidered one; but I have a vested interest in looking my very finest today. Yes, despite your worthwhile advice, I shall wear the less fussy one.”
Knott sighed and peevishly capitulated to his singularly fussy master. “Suit yourself, sir!”
The newest structure on the manicured grounds of the grand estate known as Pemberley was a small wooden chapel with a pretty bell tower. Its construction had been ordered immediately following London’s scandalous ball at Matlock Manor, and the local Anglican bishop had consecrated the building just days before the Darcy family returned to Derbyshire. The chapel was a freestanding edifice erected on the vast lawn near a certain seven-foot hedgerow where, one sultry summer afternoon, four handsome young men had encountered four lovely young ladies and three romances had blossomed. The estate’s staff had worked long and hard to have the place of worship prepared in time for the wedding. Hugh Wickham, Pemberley’s steward, had jokingly mentioned they were all in a steeplechase against time.
On the morning of the wedding, the pretty little building smelled of freshly hewn timber, paint, polish, flowers, and greenery from the orangery. Chimes rang out from its gabled belfry in a most a-pealing and in-spiring manner. A young hawk sat, unnoticed, atop a nearby tree and watched as the group of finely dressed humans flocked to the chapel’s front door.
The senior Mr. Wickham had designed, supervised, and physically worked on the construction of the little church; and because Pemberley’s exemplary steward was also an accomplished organist, he was asked to play the chapel’s small pipe organ during the wedding. Although he had a Bach-ache from so many hours of manual labour, he was honoured to provide the music for the ceremony. Through correspondence, the three brides had selected their favourite pieces from Mr. Wickham’s repertoire; and as soon as people began to file into the chapel, he performed Air on the G String.
Miss Mary Bennet sat in the left-hand second-row pew with Lydia, Robert, and Kitty. Her youngest sister listened to the pretty piece of music for a while and then whispered, “Mary, is that song by Mozart, the opera-tunist?”
Mary whispered back, “No, Lydia. The composer is Johann Sebastian Bach; and because it is very lovely, please be quiet and appreciate the music.”
Miss Lydia tugged at the sleeve of her sister’s pretty white frock and asked, “Do you know why Mozart killed all his chickens?”
“Good heavens, Lydia! What a morbid question to ask in church. Oh, very well,” she whispered. “Why did Mozart kill all his chickens?”
“Because they kept saying, ‘Bach! Bach! Bach!’”
Mary tried unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter, and the prissy Miss Catherine admonished her older and younger sisters with a stern look and a hissed “Hush!” Three-year old Robert Bennet then began to cluck like a chicken just as the Earl of Matlock entered. Kitty was mortified and leaned down to speak into her brother’s ear. “Robert, do you remember why you must be quiet in church?”
The angelic little boy with the golden curls looked at Catherine with wide, innocent blue eyes and nodded contritely. Kitty was pleased with him until he took his thumb out of his mouth and said in a very loud voice, “I haf to be quiet ’cos people sleep in church.” Missish Miss Catherine wondered whether she might possibly have been adopted, while laughter rang out from the pews behind her.
Hugh Wickham was very proud of the little place of worship that had been built in such a short time. As he played the chamber organ, he looked out over the chapel fondly while he also watched his pews and keys. Upon receiving a pre-arranged signal from Mrs. Reynolds, the organist began a section of Bach’s Wachet Auf as young Evan Gardiner escorted Mrs. Frances Bennet and Lady Anne Darcy to their seats in the front rows.
Reverend Mr. Godfrey, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Ellis Fleming, and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam entered the chapel from a side door while Hugh Wickham played Bach’s Largo. The clergyman led the three grooms to wait nervously, excitedly, and eagerly at the front of the church for the women who would soon be their wives.
Darcy was, as might be expected, devastatingly handsome in a spotless navy blue tailcoat and matching neatly pressed trousers. A pristine silk cravat was neatly knotted in the Oriental style around the high collar of his white shirt, over which he wore an unadorned ivory waistcoat. Fitzwilliam was not at all nervous but rather impatient to be done with the ceremony that would finally make Elizabeth his wife.
The Colonel was impeccably dressed in full regimentals for the final time, as he would be resigning from the army after returning from his honeymoon. His face gleamed, as did his highly polished tall black boots and the brass buttons and medals on his red coat. A sword, encased in an ornate scabbard, dangled on his right side, just in case he had to fight off any barbarians. As he waited for Jane, Richard’s feelings were those of triumph at having won such a beautiful, kind-hearted, passionate woman and excitement at the thought of beginning a whole new life with her at Rosings Park.
Raven-haired Fleming had chosen a grey tailcoat with black velvet collar, black trousers, grey linen waistcoat, and a white cotton shirt with a matching linen neckcloth. Mesmerizing blue eyes watched for his bride’s entrance as his emotions vacillated between nervousness and thrill. Ellis remembered that on the day he met Georgiana he had desperately wanted to make a good first impression. He unconsciously grinned as he thought, Who knew that green slime, clinging clothing, and a malodorous stench would appeal to the lovely, refined Miss Darcy?
Anne de Bourgh entered on Charles Bingley’s arm, and the two witnesses walked down the aisle to Bach’s Sheep May Safely Graze. They parted at the altar with a parting look of unadulterated love, with the lady keeping to the left and the gentleman to the right.
Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel resounded in the little chapel as Miss Anna Darcy entered with Dust Bunny, Pug-Nacious, and Remus. Georgiana had insisted at least some of their pets be involved in the rites; and the Reverend Mr. Godfrey could hardly refuse, although he did request the canines not be permitted to run amok during the ceremony. The dogs had been bathed, brushed, and bedecked; and Anna, who kept a tight rein on the three braided ribbon leashes, made sure the dogs were under restraint.
Some members of the small congregation were surprised pets had been allowed to participate in the solemn Solemnization of Matrimony, but only one person was truly shocked and appalled. Mrs. Caroline Wickham sat, with her husband, on the right-hand side of the chapel; and her expression indicated she had a mouthful of something she desperately wished to expectorate. The unfortunate truth about Mrs. Wickham was the bad taste in her mouth was nothing compared to her bad taste in clothing; and her outlandish orange organza outfit was quite out of place amongst the tasteful soft-hued dresses of the other young ladies in attendance that afternoon.
The silky white Maltese wore a satin ribbon tied in a pretty bow around its neck; and the pale blue collar not only matched the gown worn by Dust Bunny’s owner, but it also held Georgiana’s golden wedding band. Likewise, Pug-Nacious sported a ribbon of silver similar to Miss Jane Bennet’s dress; and the little dog’s bow held her ring. Fitzwilliam Darcy had flatly refused to have his Foxhound, Remus, suffer the indignity of a satin ribbon bow. Therefore, Anna had crafted a little drawstring bag from a piece of ivory fabric; and the pouch on the pooch’s leather collar contained Elizabeth’s wedding band.
Hugh Wickham happily performed Purcell’s Trumpet Tune as soon as he received Mrs. Reynolds’ tacit signal the first bride was ready to make her entrance. Georgiana stood in the doorway a moment until George Darcy proudly took her arm and began to slowly walk his lovely middle child down the aisle. Miss Darcy was a vision in palest blue silk trimmed in delicate ivory lace, and she carried a pretty bouquet of pink peonies.
The Misses Jane and Elizabeth Bennet had jointly agreed upon Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary for their processional, and both ladies carried beautiful bouquets of Damask roses wrapped in their mother’s lace. Thomas Bennet greeted his two eldest daughters with a smile, but tears quickly welled in the gentleman’s eyes due to their beauty and the knowledge he was about to lose those dear offspring to the young bucks who stood at the front of the chapel. With Lizzy in embroidered ivory satin on his left and Jane in shimmering silver silk on his right, he proudly led his beloved children toward the altar and their futures.
The three brides were stunning in their silk and satin creations, and each wore a small lace-veiled cap that matched the colour of her dress. For the most part, the small congregation smiled lovingly upon the beautiful young women. However, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s smile was, more accurately, a laudanum-induced grin. Mrs. Caroline Wickham’s smile was obviously forced, while her husband wore a blatantly lecherous smirk. Viscount Wentletrap actually scowled, for his wife had rather rudely nudged him awake from a most delightful dream. The wide eyes of Robert and Lydia Bennet twinkled at the sight of their fairytale-princess sisters on their marrying day, and the trio of grooms absolutely beamed as they watched their lovely fiancées finally enter the chapel and sedately walk toward them.
As the last strains of music faded into silence, the Reverend Mr. Godfrey began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join this Man and this Woman, this Man and this Woman, and this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony.” The young clergyman was extremely nervous about performing the unusual triple ceremony for the illustrious Darcy and Fitzwilliam families and was worried he would make a clerical error by mixing up the brides and grooms. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and prayed he would not confuse any of their names and marry the wrong man and woman.
“Richard Cosmo Fitzwilliam, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
The Colonel smiled lovingly at Jane and resisted an overwhelming urge to caress her lovely face. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Jane Augusta Bennet, wilt thou have this Man to be thy wedded Husband … ”
And so it went, with the same being repeated for Ellis Leander Fleming and Georgiana Claire Darcy and also for Fitzwilliam George Darcy and Elizabeth Frances Bennet. The Minister then said, “Who giveth these Women to be married to these Men?”
George Darcy kissed Georgiana’s hand and then sat with Lady Anne in the front pew. Likewise, Thomas Bennet kissed both his daughters on their soft cheeks and took his place on the other side of the chapel beside his wife.
Miss Anne de Bourgh gathered the brides’ three bouquets to hold and took the opportunity to also momentarily hold the loving gaze of the handsome Charles Bingley.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Jane Bennet were the first to plight their troth to one another; and then the Minister had the next couple join their right hands.
His hands might have been trembling, but his voice was steady and strong as the next groom fervently said, “I, Ellis Fleming, take thee, Georgiana Darcy, to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
After Georgiana, and then Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth all had their turns, the couples then loosed their hands; and Bingley, with Miss Anna’s assistance, untied Jane Bennet’s ring from the pug’s silver bow and passed it to the Colonel. The rites continued until it was the last couple’s turn.
Bingley retrieved the wedding band from Remus’ drawstring bag and put it into Darcy’s waiting palm. The groom passed it to the minister, who blessed it; and then the Reverend delivered Elizabeth Bennet’s gold ring back to the groom. After the band had been bandied about, Darcy then tenderly slid it upon the fourth finger of his bride’s hand. As he held the ring in place, there was no stony, unreadable expression on Fitzwilliam Darcy’s face. Everyone in the chapel could plainly see the look of pure adoration as he gazed into Lizzy’s eyes and lovingly said, “With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The couples then knelt, and gasps were heard from the congregation. Before they had a chance to turn around to investigate, Elizabeth and Darcy were shocked when a long muzzle suddenly pushed its way between them. The Foxhound’s sweet expression made everyone laugh as Remus proudly sat beside his master and stared adoringly at Darcy. A crimson-faced Miss Anna apologized profusely and quickly took charge of her brother’s dog again. The Reverend Mr. Godfrey rolled his eyes heavenward, wiped his brow, and said to the congregation, “Apparently the canine was just following his own dogma. Let us pray.”
After the prayer, the minister joined the right hands of each couple and said, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Richard Fitzwilliam and Jane Bennet, … ah, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, … and ah, Ellis Fleming and Georgiana Darcy … ” Please God, allow me to have married the correct couples only to one another! “ … have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The beautiful service continued; and finally the witnesses, Mr. Bingley and Miss de Bourgh, happily added their signatures to those of the relieved minister and the ecstatic newlyweds into the marriage register while Hugh Wickham performed Bach’s Arioso.
When chapel bells began to chime, servants from the great house, Pemberley’s tenants, and its workers gathered outside the little church for a quick glimpse of the three happy couples and to offer their best wishes before scurrying back to their duties; and neighbours and friends from surrounding estates and from Lambton began to arrive for the celebration.
As the brides and grooms exited the church, a covey of six white homing doves was released by the gamekeeper, while strains of Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring followed the human flock outside. Ancient and revered symbols of peace, purity and innocence, new beginnings and hope for the future, white doves remain loyal to their mates for life and are devoted partners and parents and also represent unending love, fidelity, and fertility.
Lady Anne Darcy had thought it would be a clever idea for birdseed to be tossed at the newlyweds. The kind-hearted woman was, after all, a nurturing soul who was concerned about her fine-feathered friends as the weather turned colder. However, the flock of doves, the very embodiment of peace and harmony, decided to stage a coo. As the seeds were flung upward at the newlyweds, the gesture attracted a flurry of avian activity over the congregation of finely attired guests; and Mrs. Caroline Wickham was the fortunate recipient of the intestinal contents from several of the released covey. It was, perhaps, not universally acknowledged that good luck would follow such a fowl deed; but some people did have faith in such a belief. The tangerine-togged woman shuddered as a white dove circled, dove, and then perched on her shoulder. As jubilant Colonel Fitzwilliam passed by, he said, “My dear Mrs. Wickham, do not kiss birds; for you might get an untweetable canarial disease.”
While Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious yipped, yapped, and ran circles around the congregation’s feet, the young hawk that had been perched atop a nearby tree was not after birdseed but rather the fascinating little morsel on the ridiculous bonnet worn by Lady Catherine de Bourgh. The bird of pray was disappointed to find an ornamental canary on the bonnet was most certainly not worth two in the bush. The raptor also discovered Lady Catherine de Bird had a rather fowl mouth for someone who had just been in a House of God … her language being more suited to a warship than a place of worship.
It was an afternoon of no common delight to them all. The satisfaction of the newlyweds gave a glow of such sweet animation to their faces as made the brides look more beautiful than ever and the grooms the handsomest young men that ever were seen.
The gentlemen in attendance pronounced Fitzwilliam Darcy to be a fine figure of a man and admired his wife’s fine figure. The ladies declared that Elizabeth Darcy had a very agreeable countenance and counted her husband amongst the most agreeable of men, and the newlywed couple was looked at with great admiration for the whole afternoon. As the joyous Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy mingled with the crowd outside the chapel, the groom worried his proud, loving heart might actually rupture with rapture. His eyes scarcely strayed from his wife; and the ladies, as well as the lady herself, sighed at the adoring, lustful looks he bestowed upon his bride.
As they strolled toward the house, hand in hand, Fitzwilliam smiled down at her and said, “Words utterly fail to express how ardently I love you; for love you I do, Elizabeth Darcy, with all my heart and soul, and always will.”
Her eyes shone back at him as she teased. “Hmm, I have heard almost those exact sentiments before, have I not? Perhaps you are employing another man’s words. Regardless, I assure you I return equal measure of what you feel. In fact, my cup runneth over with love for you, my husband.”
“I have heard almost those exact sentiments before, have I not, madam? Still and all, they sound even sweeter today than on the night of the ball, for I esteem my new title of husband very much, my wife.”
Elizabeth squeezed his arm and gathered her thoughts. “Fitzwilliam, I am exceedingly elated, enthralled, ebullient, enamoured, euphoric, ecstatic, effervescent, excessively exhilarated, enthusiastic, enchanted, eager, exultant, and earnestly excited.” She gave her husband the saucy grin and arched eyebrow combination.
Darcy’s own eyebrows shot up. “Egregiously and embarrassingly effusive also! Your elaborate, embellished and exaggerated elocution and euphonic enunciation are eloquent, my exquisite Elizabeth. You exude exuberance; and I entirely, emphatically, and energetically empathize and shall endeavour to emulate your exceptional encomium until enervation exhausts and enfeebles my effectiveness.” Darcy smirked as the sassy smile was wiped from his wife’s face.
She gazed at him in astonishment. “Egad! You, my esteemed esquire, are the very epitome and embodiment of enriched and enhanced erudite encyclopaedic enlightenment. Equality in education is not encouraged; and while you are emboldened, equipped, and empowered, my English is embryonic and effete. It encumbers me in this entertaining exercise and entirely enables you to effectively emerge from this extemporization in exclusive eminence.” But surely you are done now, husband.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was nonplussed but allowed it to neither show nor discourage him. “Elizabeth, you enliven, enrapture, and enkindle me and also upset my equilibrium and equanimity. Enough, I expostulate and entreat you! This extraordinary exhibition is evoking an extreme exigency, and I may explode. Let us eschew this epic, exasperating, esoteric embroilment and employ our estimable efforts elsewhere to essentially escape and engage in an enjoyable embrace and exchange explicit expressions of endearment ere our evening is encompassed by everyone else extravagantly expounding on, exulting, exalting, and extolling our enviable espousal.” His wife was then on the receiving end of an infuriatingly challenging look.
“Elude and elope … excellent!” exclaimed Elizabeth. They exited the elite estate without explanation, etiquette, or excuse and executed an expeditious excursion to expel and eliminate extraneous elementary emotions. Ensconced under an enshrouding elm engraved with “EB & FD,” they were encased, enveloped, entwined, and encircled in each other’s arms; and exactly eleven exemplary, engrossing minutes elapsed ere they eventually and elegantly made an entrance as each envisioned an enticing, erotic, and early encore.
The exquisite Mrs. Jane Fitzwilliam was practically giddy with excitement and happiness as she walked arm-in-arm with her gorgeous, red-coated husband across the very lawn where she had first secretly admired his handsome face and masculine physique. Jane felt an overwhelming passion and caring for that exceptionally special man, and tears of happiness suddenly welled in her blue eyes and threatened to spill upon her rosy cheeks.
After the solemnization of his marriage, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam could not but feel proud Jane had accepted his hand before learning of his inheritance. It was obvious she truly cared for the man inside the uniform, regardless of his excellent connections or wealth; and he was thankful his devotion was reciprocal. Her beauty, faith in him, and delicate gloved hand on his arm provoked feelings of protectiveness, overpowering tenderness, and mounting desire.
After receiving congratulations from the congregation, the three couples had been besieged by well-wishers waiting for them on the lawn outside the chapel. The Colonel had dutifully, respectfully, and enthusiastically kissed and shook hands, bowed, smiled, and thanked everyone; and all the while he strategically planned a tactical manoeuvre to capture a few clandestine moments with his bride, a vision in slinky, silvery silk.
When they finally escaped from the throng, he steered Jane away from Pemberley’s front entrance toward a side entry leading to the library. Once inside, he cupped her precious face in his strong hands and just stood there gazing in rapt wonder. My God, this gorgeous gentlewoman is actually now and forever my wife! “Jane, sweetheart, I very much long to kiss your inviting lips; yet I am afraid if I begin, we will not be celebrating our marriage in public but rather in an especially private manner.”
“Richard! As persuasive as you are, we cannot simply disappear from our own wedding celebration. Surely you are not serious?” She gently pushed him away, uncertain whether he was teasing or in earnest.
“I am seriously considering heaving you over my shoulder and carrying you upstairs this very moment, my enchanting wife.”
“You will do no such thing!”
“Oho, what is this now? Another facet of my demure yet passionate, quiet but brazen Jane? Married hardly … ” The Colonel checked his fob watch. “ … thirty minutes, and already I am met head-on with her shrewish side.” Richard could scarcely maintain a straight face yet crossed his arms over his impressive chest and stood his ground.
Mrs. Fitzwilliam tapped her dainty foot and tried to glower at her husband, but her lips twitched and betrayed her amusement.
“Jane, do you have any perception of how beautiful you are with your colour high and eyes flashing in that provocative manner? However, you are right, dear.” See, Mr. Bennet? Already I have made use of your invaluable advice. “Come, my love, we must now share in the celebration of our nuptials, dance, partake of some fine food and wine … ” He waggled his eyebrows. “ … and fortify ourselves for tonight.”
The Colonel clasped her hand and started to walk in the direction of the door. Jane stopped him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. When they surfaced for air, she said, “Richard, you are my rock; yet every now and then I wish you were a little boulder. I did not mean to imply we must return immediately. I cannot imagine we have been missed already, and I do not require any fortification.”
He gradually backed her into the corner. “Speaking of fortification, mine weakened when I met you. As a soldier, I identified with Shakespeare’s character, Benedick, in Much Ado About Nothing. I believe his line was ‘When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.’ You, my bewitching woman, easily invaded the walls of this poor soldier’s soul. I had no weapons to use against the capture of my heart; for you laid siege, and it was seized without a fight. Resistance was futile, and I surrendered. But tonight, my lovely Jane … ” Richard interrupted himself to thoroughly kiss her before he continued. “Tonight you will finally surrender to me.”
Jane breathlessly whispered against his ear, “Tonight, my handsome barbarian, will not be about surrender or submission. I am your wife and you are my husband. Society may not look upon us as equals, yet in our private chambers I expect a harmonious union.”
They did not, at that point, return to the celebration of their nuptials in the ballroom as intended. The Colonel and Jane thought they were well secluded and concealed in a corner of the library, so, the snogging newlyweds were startled and mortified to hear an excited voice nearby. “Papa, look! We found them! And Janie and KerFitz are kithing! It does not hurt, though. Mither Darthy told me so.”
Dazed and confused, Colonel Fitzwilliam disengaged himself from his wife’s swollen lips and slowly turned around to face her stern father and grinning little brother. Robert walked up to Richard, tugged on his red sleeve, and said, “KerrFitz, do you have any ponies?”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and said, “And I wonder if you have any sense! I understand your enthusiasm, young man; however, this is neither the time nor the place. I recommend you return to the festivities currently taking place in your honour and refrain from overtly embracing my daughter in public.”
“With all due respect, sir, Jane is now my wife. I apologize for any perceived indiscretion; even so, Pemberley’s library is definitely not a public venue. Nonetheless, we were just about to attend our celebration. Shall we, my dear?” He offered an arm to his blushing bride; but before leaving the room, he said, “Mr. Bennet, I very much respect your daughter, my wife. Today I vowed before God, you, and the rest of the congregation to love, comfort, and cherish Jane. She is mine, and I am hers, to have and to hold from this day forward; and that is all we were doing here, holding and cherishing one another.”
“Yes, well, very good. Carry on then … ” He watched them depart and muttered to empty air, “ … just not where I shall have to witness it!” Mr. Bennet frowned down at his wide-eyed son and said, “Now, about this business of kissing and ponies, poppet … ”
Before Jane and Richard entered the ballroom, the gentleman glanced at his wife’s neck and shamefacedly suggested she might want to retrieve a fichu from her room to put on before joining the others.
“Oh, Richard! Not again! Whatever am I going to do with you?” Knowing full well what she was going to do with him later, Colonel Stud-muffin rakishly waggled his eyebrows.
Jane turned to go upstairs; but Richard suddenly caught her arm, frowned, and said, “My lovely wife, did you, by any chance, call me a handsome … barbarian a few moments ago?”
Ellis Fleming’s chest puffed with pride as he and Georgiana strolled around the room chatting with their guests. This beautiful woman, so kind, so elegant, yet feisty, is finally mine; and I am the most fortunate man alive. He smiled down at her with an expression of deepest respect and affection and felt another thrill of desire as she returned his ardent regard.
The former Miss Darcy hardly remembered the ceremony, or which guests had spoken with her, or how she had responded to them. Georgiana was lost in a blur of bliss and exhilaration. Whenever her handsome, raven-haired husband looked at her, she blushed at the feelings he provoked. Georgiana knew their marriage would be one of mutual love, tenderness, respect, and passion.
It had been a heart-warming wedding ceremony, charged with emotion; and many of the ladies, not to mention a few weepy gentlemen, needed their handkerchiefs before the service was finished. Tears of happiness were still being wiped away during the celebration that followed, and even the pretty wedding cake was in tiers.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh blissfully sat alone at a table near the balcony and watched the world go by. After the hawk and hat debacle, Charles Bingley had been thoughtful enough to inquire whether she required a dose of her special sherry; and the medicated woman was pleased Anne’s suitor was so excessively attentive to her needs. Why, here is my dear Mr. Bing now with a piece of fruitcake for me. So sweet, full-bodied, spicy, rich, spirited, delicious, and sinfully tempting. She began to cackle hysterically when she could not recollect whether she was, in reality, describing the man or the wedding cake.
After his delivery to Lady Catherine, Charles Bingley fetched two more plates of cake and passed one to Miss de Bourgh as he sat down across from her at a small table near the balustrade. The ceremony had filled the lovesick fellow with hope and enthusiasm for his own future happiness, yet he was concerned about Anne’s unusual quietude since they left the chapel. He eagerly watched as she daintily lifted her fork and tasted the fruitcake.
Anne Catriona de Bourgh, who had witnessed the three marriages alongside Mr. Bingley, was pleased to have performed that honour for her relatives and friends. However, she longed for her own special day. Yes, a beautiful dress, a new pair of shoes, a golden ring, and a Charles Bingley would set me up forever. She noticed her mother was already going back for a second serving of fruitcake and that her beau was staring. “Mr. Bingley, why do you scrutinize me so? Do I have bird droppings on my shoulder, unsightly nasal hair, or something stuck in my teeth?”
“Anne, you are so elegantly eloquent and classy. I was merely wondering whether you like the fruitcake, for I believe your slice contains a very special ingredient.”
Miss de Bourgh scoffed and took another forkful. Bingley’s blue eyes grew even wider than usual, and he feared his scheme had been an ill-conceived one. “Ah, perhaps you should not … ingest that particular … No! Anne, do not eat that piece!”
“OW!! What in blazing … blazes is in this blasted cake?” She daintily spit a mouthful of fruitcake into her handkerchief and extracted a shiny piece of metal. “This is an outrage! How in Hades did … ? Oh! This obviously does not belong to the baker. It is far too valuable.” She turned the unexpected object to and fro in the sunlight. “Is this actually an emerald? How extraordinary! But I could very well have broken a tooth. Heads shall undoubtedly roll over this!”
At her initial exclamation Bingley had risen and hovered by her side. He worriedly wrung his hands as he stuttered, “Miss de Bourgh, I am so, so sorry. I … I thought you would notice it before … I n-never intended for you to … Are you injured?”
“Stop fussing. I am fine. But … You are responsible for this? This is the special ingredient?”
Bingley glanced sheepishly at her as he sat back down and said, “My father gave it to my mother when he proposed. She always referred to it as her engagement ring … ”
“Well, I just about en-gagged on it, sir. Why on earth would you do something so bizarre? You, Mr. Charles Bungley, are as nutty as this fruitcake and twice as crumby.”
“Please forgive me. It was a cork-brained plan.” He reached across the table for the ring, but Miss de Bourgh quickly snatched it away from his grasp.
“Wait. You say this was an engagement ring?”
Bingley rubbed his hands up and down his flushed face a couple of times before he loudly exhaled and softly replied, “Yes, and I was hoping it could again serve the same purpose; so I planted it in your slice of wedding cake. It was, indeed, a very crumby idea; and I am certifiably a nut.” The abashed young man attempted another grab at the emerald-encrusted band.
“Not so hasty, if you please, Mr. Bingley.” Anne held the sparkling ring away from his reach. “Let me rightly understand this. You deliberately implanted a so-called engagement ring into my particular slice of wedding cake because …?”
Bingley coloured up again and blurted, “Because I am in love with you and want us to spend the rest of our lives together.” He calmed and spoke softly once more. “Could we not have our own wedding cake, Annie? Will you please enrich my life by becoming my wife?”
“Oh, Charlie Bing!” She flung herself across the table and her arms around him. “Yes, yes, yes! I would very much love to be your strife … I mean your wife.”
Bingley placed gentle kisses upon her forehead and finally the ring upon her finger. “Thank you, Annie. I expect you will, indeed, do an exemplary job of being both my wife and an endless cause of strife for the rest of my life.”
Bingley’s sister, Caroline Wickham, had suffered through the indignities of the hounds from hell in church and pigeon poop on her tangerine turban with, in her opinion, considerable aplomb. She could not, however, keep at bay her feelings of resentment, envy, and regret when she compared her own simple wedding to the finery on display that day at Pemberley. Her husband, George Wickham, also experienced feelings of resentment, envy, and regret as he leered at the three fine-looking brides. Darce, Fitz, and Fleming have found women who are more than tolerable and certainly handsome enough to tempt me. He glanced at his tolerable wife and was tempted to drown his sorrows in the handsome glasses of liquid refreshment slighted by other men.
His father, Hugh Wickham, watched George ogle his friends’ brides and felt shame and regret over his daughter-in-law’s situation. He planned many lengthy talks with the lad before handing the stewardship reins over to George in the New Year and would impress upon him the importance of keeping strictly to the straight and narrow. For his own part, Hugh Wickham felt justifiably proud of the jobs he had done for the Darcy family in his service to them over the years, the building of the chapel, and even his performance on the small pipe organ that day. He planned to stay in tune with the goings-on at Pemberley after his retirement.
Owen Reynolds and his wife, Pemberley’s butler and housekeeper, watched the happy proceedings with relief that everything was going so splendidly. As much as they enjoyed the ceremony and celebration, the couple was glad it would soon be over so they could rest after weeks of preparation for the very special day. Mrs. Reynolds became teary-eyed at the thought of two cherished Darcy offspring leaving Pemberley but was instantly cheered when her husband said, “Esther, you must now anticipate all the little Darcy and Fleming children bound to frequently visit their grandparents here in the years ahead.” The housekeeper dried her eyes, planted a kiss on Owen’s cheek, and daydreamed of the esteemed estate’s future.
Another wistful servant sat in the background and slowly sipped a mug of Pemberley’s robust ale. The Darcy men had insisted Crispin Knott attend the celebration after his final duty for the family had been performed, that of preparing the groom for his wedding day. The valet, with a tear in his eye, proudly watched as his former master escorted the lovely Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy around the ballroom. Knott had thoroughly trained Bladen, his replacement, and knew the young fellow would serve Pemberley’s heir proficiently. Bladen had been a cut above the rest of the candidates for the position and seemed to appreciate it when Knott dispensed invaluable tips on how not to provoke Darcy’s pique. The elderly valet advised the lad to wait a few years, however, before putting to use his pointers on how to ruffle the master’s feathers and get his goat.
Wine, spirits, negus, ale, and hot chocolate flowed like water, tables were laden with delicacies such as white soup and fruitcake, and Pemberley’s ballroom was bedecked with evergreen boughs as well as flowers from the orangery. A string and wind orchestra had been hired to perform from the time the ceremony ended until the last guests departed, and the waltz made its debut to many in Derbyshire. The violinist drew his bow across the strings, gentlemen bowed, and ladies curtsied as the opening strain of waltzing music began. Three newlywed couples led the daring dance, and bystanders were enthralled by the grace and beauty of both the waltz and the young lovers. Other pairs soon followed, including Mr. Bingley and Miss de Bourgh, the Bennets, George Darcy and Lady Anne, the Gardiners, the Earl of Matlock and his wife, and even Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham.
An infatuated Evan Gardiner stood restlessly on the sidelines and wished he could invite a certain young lady to stand up with him; however, she was not yet out in society. He kept glancing at her as she gleefully watched her older sister, brother, and cousin glide across the floor with the partners they had wed that day.
Miss Darcy was, indeed, observing the beaming newlywed dancers. Bright, late autumn sunshine slanted in through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room and its occupants. Anna recalled the candlelit night of the ball at Matlock Manor … Fitzwilliam’s dilemma, Richard and Jane’s scandalous kiss, Georgiana’s bliss, and three joyous engagement announcements. That special evening had been responsible for the love and happiness she witnessed at that moment, and Anna was bound and determined she would only marry for the deepest affection as well.
Miss Bennet was tasked with minding her younger siblings - missish Kitty, wide-eyed-with-wonder Lydia, and little Robert. The boy watched the proceedings with curiosity for a while, quickly became bored, and then wanted to go to the nursery.
Mary said, “Kitty, would you please take your brother upstairs and leave him in Alice’s capable hands until it is time for us to depart. I do believe Robert has had quite enough merriment.”
The sleepy little boy nodded and muttered, “Yes, I had enough marryment for one day.”
Kitty smiled, ruffled his flaxen curls, and said, “That is not what Mary meant, poppet.”
Before the guests departed, the three brides retrieved their wedding bouquets; and each plucked a bloom to be pressed and saved as a memento of the special day. Georgiana then sought Miss Darcy and handed her sister the arrangement of pink peonies. “Dearest, I want you to have this; yet it does not follow that you must be the next to marry. Promise me you will wait until you are ready and absolutely certain of doing so for love.” She caressed Anna’s cheek and said, “Whoever he may be, your future husband will be a very fortunate man; and I hope you will be as content as I shall be with Ellis. I love you, Anna, and shall miss you desperately; so you must promise to write often and keep me informed of the further adventures of Barb Thorne and Herr/Fraulein Stewart.”
“I will, Georgie … ” Anna’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “ … and you must send me news of Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious.” The younger sister was downcast and lowered her gaze as she spoke. “But I suppose married women have never much time for writing.”
“Nonsense! I shall write so regularly, you will quickly become quite sick of hearing from me.”
“Oh, no, never! I shall miss you very, very much!” Anna flung her arms around Georgiana and held tight. “When shall we meet again, do you suppose?”
“You know full well that Ellis and I are not going so very far away at all. We will be visiting Pemberley frequently, and you must come stay with us whenever it pleases you. I am delighted you have chosen to accept the offer from our brother and Lizzy, so please write and tell me of your journey. But now, dearest sister, I must start my own journey as Mrs. Fleming. My husband is waiting for me.” She offered a hand to her sibling. “Come and wave good-bye, Anna. I want to see your beloved face as Ellis and I pull away from Pemberley.”
Across the room Jane Fitzwilliam carried on a very similar conversation with Mary Bennet and passed her the bouquet of Damask roses. Miss Bennet’s expression was wistful as she said, “Oh, Jane, there is someone I hope may make me an offer some day in the future. I realize I am far too young yet, but … ”
“Mary! Who is this wonderful young fellow? I know he must be a singular gentleman to have captured your regard. Am I acquainted with him? Is he, perhaps, a brother of one of your seminary friends? I am all curiosity.”
Mary smiled enigmatically and shook her head. “I shall not disclose his identity yet, other than to say you are acquainted with him. Now go.” She giggled and continued, “Your handsome barbarian is waiting for you.” Jane kissed her sister’s cheek, and they walked hand in hand to where Richard impatiently waited for his bride.
Miss de Bourgh was surprised when she was presented with Elizabeth Darcy’s wedding bouquet of roses. “Lizzy, how sweet … and prophetic too … albeit a tad tardy. Thank you, cousin.”
“A tad tardy prophetically? Anne Catriona de Bourgh, is there something I should know?”
“Well, I am unsure if Charles wants anyone else to be informed as yet. He is asking Mother for permission as we speak. Oh, good grief! She is very fond of our Mr. Bing, so I hope she does not assume he is actually proposing to her.”
“Anne! Do be serious. Did Mr. Bingley truly make you an offer?”
“Yes, indeed … one I could not refuse, complete with an emerald. Do you want your roses back?”
“Silly goose. May I see the emerald?”
Miss de Bourgh held out her left hand and wiggled her fourth finger. “It is an en-gag-ment ring.”
“Do you mean an engagement ring? It is very beautiful.”
“Well, yes, it is certainly that. However, I almost gagged and broke a tooth because it was in my slice of wedding cake. Ergo, it shall be named en-gag-ment ring from this day forward.”
“I would still prefer to call it an engagement ring, Anne; but as Shakespeare said, ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.’ Congratulations, my friend. I am very happy for both of you.”
They hugged. “Thank you, Lizzy, and thank you also for the bouquet of roses. The gesture was very thoughtful of you. Speaking of roses, being married to my impeccable cousin shall not be a bed of them, you know.”
“Every rose has its thorn.”
“Yes, but if Fitzwilliam’s behaviour becomes obnoxious, you must promise me to nip it in the bud.”
“I cannot, even in my wildest dreams, imagine Fitzwilliam ever being obnoxious. Nonetheless, since we were speaking of gardening, I do remember he once had a green thumb, green hair, green shirt, and …”
The rich, resonant voice of her husband startled Elizabeth, and she jumped. “Ladies, I am almost afraid to ask about your pre-seeding conversation. When you two speak with one another, I never know the ground rules and am always garden my comments. I feel quite green and must pro-seed by trowel and error.”
“You heard?” his wife guiltily asked.
“Every word after ‘speaking of roses.’ Did I miss anything noteworthy prior to that?”
Anne waggled her left hand in front of his face. “I am en-gagged. I have snagged and bagged Bingley.”
“Ah! My best wishes then, Annie.” He bent to give her a hug and to kiss her cheek. “Poor Bingley! I hope my wretched friend shall take time to smell the roses once in a while.” He was duly rewarded by a pinch on his arm.
All guests had at last departed Pemberley except for the six newlyweds and their families. The Colonel’s fine new carriage, a wedding gift from his parents, stood at the drive ready to carry its owner and his wife to well-appointed Waterstone Inn, where the bride and groom would remain for ten cozy nights before journeying to London to stay at Matlock Manor while Richard finalized the resignation of his commission. The couple would subsequently travel to Kent and settle at Rosings Park. Leave had already been taken of the Bennets and Darcys, and Richard and Jane stood chatting with the Fitzwilliam family.
Viscount Wentletrap, the Colonel’s older brother, had a relatively enjoyable afternoon quaffing more than his share of Mr. Gardiner’s generous contribution to the festivities. As he bent to kiss his new sister’s hand for the third time that day, he nearly keeled over and took Jane with him.
With quick reflexes, the Colonel rescued them before they took a tumble. “Whoa there, James! Steady, man. Sorry, darling Jane, but I believe my brother is as drunk and wobbly as a wheelbarrow.”
The Viscount put his arm around Richard and cheerfully quoted Lord Byron. “Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.”
“Well, brother, Lord Byron also said, ‘The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.’ The sensation you are feeling now will not exist long, and the pain is certain to come later. Please take good care of this poor sot, Lady Isabelle.”
The Viscountess, who was with child and rather exhausted, gently took her husband’s arm. She smiled at her brother-in-law and said, “Colonel, you and I have had our differences in the past; all the same, I sincerely wish you and your wife much happiness. Years ago at our own wedding James and I vowed for better, for worse; and we have had quite enough worse, so we are attempting better for a while. Is that not true, husband?”
“Ah, Isabelle, I never knew what real happiness was until I married you … and then it was too late.” He winked at his brother and then placed a loud, wet, sloppy kiss on his wife’s cheek.
Richard rolled his eyes, patted James on the back, and led Jane over to take their leave of Lord Matlock and Lady Rebecca.
There had been tears and laughter as the Bennets, Darcys, and Fitzwilliams said farewell to the newlyweds; and servants cheerfully tossed shoes, for luck, toward the departing carriages of Mr. and Mrs. Fleming and Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Finally Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood alone on Pemberley’s front steps and waved as their families pulled out of sight.
Darcy and Elizabeth were to spend their first week of connubial bliss at Pemberley before heading to Northumberland. The Gardiners planned to spend several days in Lambton before returning to London; and the Bennet family, Anna Darcy and her parents, Mr. Bingley, and the de Bourghs would all be guests of the Earl of Matlock at his Derbyshire estate before traveling onward to their own homes.
Alone at last! Darcy tucked his wife’s hand into the crook of his arm as they turned toward the entrance hall. “Elizabeth, I could not help but notice you hardly ate anything at all this afternoon. You must be famished, but would you prefer to rest and refresh before we dine?”
She nodded and said, “I admit I did far more chatting, smiling, and dancing than anything else, and it is certainly later than I imagined the celebration would last. But, oh, Fitzwilliam, everything was simply perfect! Your parents are the quintessential host and hostess; and I fear, as mistress of your estate, I shall be unable to live up to your expectations.”
“Dearest, I do not expect you to be perfect.” He smiled at her as they ascended the staircase to their rooms. “Just please understand why I am not.”
“Agreed.” She nudged him with her elbow, and he nudged back.
“Is everything to your satisfaction here at Pemberley, Elizabeth? Are your chambers comfortable?”
“Yes, and you have asked me that exact same question at least a thousand times since my arrival. How could they not be? I understand, from Anna and Mrs. Reynolds, that my apartments are those normally reserved for the likes of a marchioness or duchess. I am duly flattered and honoured, sir.”
“It is true. We once had two duchesses staying here during the same week, and we thought they were going to duke it out over which of them would be accommodated in those particular rooms. Fortunately, they did not resort to fisticuffs.”
“Finally, a pun! I was beginning to speculate over our lack of knack for wordplay, sir.”
“This evening, Elizabeth, shall be reserved for play of a different variety. I will come to escort you to dinner in, say, an hour?” He kissed her hand and left his blushing bride to the ministrations of her abigail, Ann Cillary.
The romantic, candlelit repast was served in a private dining room with a small fireplace and a table only large enough for two place settings. After their hunger was sated, Darcy asked if Elizabeth would care to join him for a short stroll along the river. Never one to pass up an opportunity for a walk, she agreed; and servants fetched their outerwear.
As they sauntered alongside the bourn, the gentleman repeatedly peeked at his fob watch. “Sir, why do you so secretly and frequently verify the time? Do you have an assignation tonight, perchance?”
Darcy startled at being caught, put the timepiece back in its waistcoat pocket, and smiled down at his wife. “As a matter of fact, yes; and the rendezvous must be perfectly synchronized.”
She began to solicit his meaning, but her words were cut off when his warm lips claimed hers just as a shrill, whizzing whistle pierced the silence. An unexpected boom made Elizabeth jump; and as she stepped back and opened her eyes, the night sky above the stream was alive with colour. She laughed with delight and clapped her hands. “Fireworks yet again, Fitzwilliam! And finally they are authentic.” The impressive display lasted another few minutes, although its splendour was totally wasted on the newlyweds whose senses were more agreeably engaged.
As they ambled back to the house, gloved hand in gloved hand, the gentlemen stopped just shy of the entrance and spoke softly. “Mrs. Darcy, I just want to reiterate that to have and to hold you from this day forward shall be my greatest pleasure; and I will do everything within my power to keep the promises I made today before our family and friends.”
“Fitzwilliam, I promised to love, honour, keep you in sickness and in health, forsake all others, and keep only unto you so long as we both shall live; and I absolutely have no qualms as regards those pledges. I must caution you, however, that I may struggle mightily with the obey aspect.”
Less than an hour afterward, Darcy, barefoot and clad only in trousers and open-necked shirt, tentatively tapped on the door to his wife’s chambers. Elizabeth had previously dismissed Ann Cillary and, therefore, opened the portal herself. “Come in, Fitzwilliam.”
The spacious room, decorated in ivory and gold with burgundy accents, glowed. A radiant fire blazed in the grate, beeswax candles softly illuminated the shadows, a subtle lavender aroma permeated throughout, and chilled champagne awaited. Darcy, nonetheless, noticed not any of those niceties. He only had eyes for the glorious vision standing alluringly before him. Elizabeth’s rich, vibrant hair was unbound, her magnificent dark eyes glittered, and her voluptuous curves were clad in the single most becoming, bewitching, and beguiling gossamer piece of clothing he had ever witnessed.
“Oh, my love! This chamber has just been elevated from being worthy of a duchess, for at this moment it is surely occupied by a goddess. My God, Elizabeth, but you are beautiful!” He rushed forward to embrace his bride and met with no resistance. Their kiss advanced from tentatively tender to heatedly intense and deeply passionate within mere moments. Darcy had intended to take his time and be extremely gentle, but Lizzy was wreaking havoc with his control. When he pulled away to search her face for censure or encouragement, he was surprised to see instead her sassy, saucy smile.
“Mr. Darcy, I do believe you have another dill-emma.”
“I assure you my only dilemma at this moment is one of willpower,” he panted. To what do you refer, Mrs. Darcy?”
“The dill-emma, sir, is the enormous pickle in your pocket.”
“Madam! I have no pockets, as you are very well aware. Your teasing is frustrating my self-restraint, you little minx.” He rather roughly pulled her close, plunged his hands into Elizabeth’s hair and his tongue into her mouth, startling her. “Oh God! Forgive me, Lizzy. Be assured I will not rush you, even though I grow impatient to make you my wife.”
“I believe the Reverend Mr. Godfrey has already performed that service, sir.”
Darcy gazed at his naive bride with equally immense affection and amusement. “I most certainly trust not, at least in the manner to which I refer, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth become conscious of her blunder and blushed furiously. “You must consider me the most green girl in the kingdom, Fitzwilliam.”
“You are my beautiful blushing bride, Elizabeth … a true English rose; and you are expected to be an innocent. As for being green, you must remember the day we first met … I was green, literally. But, Lizzy, I do trust your mother explained … ah … in relation to … relations.”
“She did, and she also gave me some reading to do by Fordyce and Gregory to guide me in our marriage.”
“Good God. Elizabeth, I attempted to read those books but could not stomach such hogwash, such claptrap, such balderdash. Ah. I see by that certain twinkle you are teasing me. You must allow me the pleasure of putting another kind of passion in those fine eyes of yours tonight.” Darcy reached for her left hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed the band of gold on her fourth finger. “I have already wed thee with this ring and endowed thee with all my worldly goods. May I worship you with my body now, Lizzy?”
From William Allen Butler’s “Nothing to Wear”