Chapter 24

Dining Room

Two Hours Later

Caroline Bingley took a last, lingering bite of Christmas pudding and sighed happily. Ever since Jane had assumed the position of mistress at Netherfield, the meals there had been sadly lacking. No longer were there numerous meats and a dozen side dishes; no, Jane had decided that two main meats and six side dishes were quite enough for family dinners. It was humiliating to sit down to such poor fare, though when she had tried to explain that to her brother, Charles had cut her off before she could speak more than a sentence.

“Netherfield requires a significant influx of money to deal with matters long neglected,” he had declared sternly. “We will not suffer for simpler meals, and Jane and I are in agreement that extra monies should be devoted to tenant cottages and poorly drained fields.”

Caroline’s cheeks flushed with indignation at the very memory. It was absurd that she was forced to eat inadequate meals due to the needs of mere peasants. Moreover, it was embarrassing to think of Mr. Darcy, master of a great estate, closely related to an earl, sitting down to a table with so little variety.

It was peculiar that Mrs. Bennet, who was far more vulgar than her eldest daughter, had a stronger grasp on her duties as a hostess. Caroline had only dined at Longbourn a few times, but every time there were at least two courses, and each course contained more than a dozen dishes. This Christmas pudding was, she admitted to herself, quite the best she had ever eaten.

She drained her goblet of wine and looked at Mrs. Bennet in anticipation, as it was time for the ladies to leave the gentlemen to their wine. Her hostess, seated at the foot of the table, finished speaking with her vulgar sister and began to rise from her seat, only to sit back down as Mr. Bennet rose and lifted a staying hand.

“Before the ladies depart,” the master of Longbourn said, “I have an announcement to make. Earlier today, Mr. Darcy requested permission to marry my daughter Elizabeth, and I gave him my blessing. Thus, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth are now engaged to be married.”

Caroline felt her breath catch in her throat as her head turned toward Mr. Darcy who was, she had noted previously, placed next to Elizabeth at the table. She had been annoyed but not surprised, given that Mrs. Bennet would naturally throw her most beautiful unmarried daughter at such a wealthy gentleman. But to imagine, for even a second, that Mr. Darcy would actually offer for pert, unladylike Elizabeth Bennet. It was…

A screech to her left made her jump, and she turned toward Mrs. Bennet, who had recovered sufficiently from this shocking announcement to cry out, “Elizabeth engaged to Mr. Darcy! Oh, how blessed I am! My dear Mr. Darcy, so tall and so handsome…”

“Yes, congratulations to you both!” Jane Bingley interrupted, rather more loudly than was her wont. “I am certain you will be very happy together.”

“Truly we will,” Elizabeth said, gazing raptly at Darcy, who was staring back at her with so much obvious love in his gaze that Miss Bingley felt genuinely faint. How could this possibly be happening?

/

The Longbourn Estate

Boxing Day

“When would you like to be married?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy chuckled and adjusted the leather reins in his hands. The wooden bench beneath them was not entirely comfortable, and he and Elizabeth both swayed together any time they turned a corner. Behind them, the cart was filled with crates, packed by the Bennet sisters earlier in the month. He was not familiar with these horses, which were workhorses from Longbourn’s fields that had been brought in to help with delivery of the boxes. Theirs was not the only wagon, of course, as two others had been taken out by manservants from the house.

Darcy was amused and pleased that the first full day of his engagement to Elizabeth consisted of the couple performing the duties of an estate master and mistress. It seemed a confirmation and a reminder at once that Elizabeth would make an excellent Mrs. Darcy. The previous night, he had leapt at the offer when Elizabeth had looked up at him with bright eyes and asked if he would like to come with her to deliver the boxes to the tenants.

Of course he had liked. He had always enjoyed helping deliver boxes at Pemberley when he could find the time. It was satisfying to see the joy and gratitude of each tenant family as they received their gifts. This year it was even more delightful, as it was also a chance to spend time with his precious Elizabeth. Today was but a foretaste of many Boxing Days to come, and that was a blissful thought.

“When do you wish to marry?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the two horses plodding steadily down the lane that led to the first tenant house.

A slender, gloved hand appeared on his arm, and he cast his beloved a quick glance. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, her eyes were shining, and her lips curled up in an arch smile.

“Now, now, Fitzwilliam,” she said. “I asked you first.”

Darcy grinned back at her and then turned his attention onto the unfamiliar horses; the last thing he wanted was to drive them into a tree!

“I wish to be married today, but since that cannot happen, as soon as possible,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But nor do I wish to keep you from enjoying a longer engagement if you…”

“I want to marry soon also,” Elizabeth interrupted, her grip tightening on his arm. “I love you, and I see no reason to delay the joyous occasion.”

These words, said with such simplicity, brought Darcy so much pleasure that he could not speak for a moment. When he did, all he could say was, “I love you too, Elizabeth. I adore you so very much.”

Elizabeth leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek and said, “This Sunday is the 29th, and if we call the banns for the first time, the next Sunday will be the 5th of January, and…”

“Or,” Darcy interrupted, transferring the reins into his right hand and reaching out to take Elizabeth’s gloved hand in his own.

“Or?”

“Or, we could marry by common license, if you like.”

“Oh!” she cried out, and again he spared a glance to enjoy her beaming smile.

“Would you like that?” he asked.

“Yes, very much! My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner must return to Town soon, but if we were able to wed within the next week, I believe they could stay for that. Will the settlements take long to arrange?”

“Your Uncle Phillips is a solicitor, I believe?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, and an excellent one.”

“Then I am confident your father and I can arrange for the settlements in the next few days, and I can send for a license. Do I turn here?”

Elizabeth gestured to the lane to the right and said, “Yes, that is the way to the Abney farm.”

The next few hours passed in a contented blur. There were three more families after the Abneys, stalwart farmers and their sturdy wives and a passel of robust children. Darcy’s adoration for his betrothed grew with each visit. Elizabeth was kindly and cheerful and greeted each of the women by name as Darcy carried in the heavy crates, asking about little Michael and how Sarah was doing and Abigail was walking now, was she not?

All the farmers’ wives were gratified and apparently unsurprised at Miss Bennet’s interest in their lives. Toddlers bounced around her knees and ragamuffins with thatched hair and broad grins showed her rag dolls and pebbles and other ordinary little treasures. One plump little girl of perhaps two years trotted out a purring orange kitten to show off to Miss Bennet of Longbourn.

As he handed Elizabeth back up into the cart, Darcy could not help but imagine their future together. She would be an unimpeachable mistress of Pemberley, he was certain. She had been so sweet to the tenant children – he could not wait to see how she would be with their own babes.

She smiled brilliantly at him as he stepped into the now-empty cart, and he grinned back, aware of how blessed he was to have earned the hand and heart of this admirable woman.

/

Matlock House

London

27 th December

Richard contemplated the greenery on the mantelpiece appreciatively. He did not know where his mother had found leaves so glossy green or berries so unblemished, but the boughs wove skillfully around the candlesticks, which were polished until they gleamed like gold. He reached up one hand to brush a gentle fingertip across a fir cone, relishing the spicy scent from it.

His younger sister, Rachel, sat across the room, decorous in her evening finery as she quietly played Christmas carols for the party. The candles atop the pianoforte wavered slightly, casting a pool of amber light over the ivory keys and Rachel’s sweet face. Their parents sat beside each other near the fire, Lord Matlock’s deep blue coat a handsome complement to his wife’s elegant emerald velvet.

It was a peaceful scene, with the exception of Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s pacing up and down the floor. She glittered and flashed with jewels as she moved in and out of the firelight and candlelight, and Richard regarded her with amusement. Lady Catherine’s temper was legendary among the family, but after seeing war in the Peninsula, his irascible aunt held no fear for Richard. In this moment she reminded him of nothing so much as a strutting peacock, showing off its finery and looking down on its drabber peers with a disdainful eye.

He relished the peace, his aunt’s impatience notwithstanding. At times his mind still filled with memories of cold, grueling marches and colder huddles in tents, shoveling down slop of indeterminate origin that was nonetheless eagerly welcomed because it was at least warm. He looked across at the window, the elegant drapes hanging mostly shut, a sliver of darkness visible beyond them. The glass pane was thick and clear with minimal distortion; the best that money could buy. It sealed the fire’s heat in and the gloom and chill out, and Richard appreciated it.

“It is absurd that Darcy is not here,” Lady Catherine said for at least the tenth time since she and her retinue had arrived at Matlock House for the Christmas season. “Anne was looking forward to seeing him, I know.”

Anne, who was sitting near the fire, swathed in warm shawls, looked up in surprise at the sound of her name. Richard contemplated her with affectionate pity. Poor Anne had never been strong, and to his eye, she was growing even more frail with time. She was no wife for Fitzwilliam Darcy, as she would be expected to provide an heir to the estates of Rosings and Pemberley, but naturally Lady Catherine, dazzled by images of two great houses united in one family, could not see the unmistakable truth.

Lady Matlock heaved a soft sigh and said in a placating tone, “I daresay he is staying in Hertfordshire for Georgiana’s sake. The air is better in the country…”

“Indeed it is, but I came to London for Christmas, with Anne, and the least that Darcy could do…”

To everyone’s relief, the lady’s diatribe was cut off by the entrance of the butler, who stepped a few feet within the door and said, “My lord, Colonel, I have an express for each of you.”

Father and son exchanged startled glances before moving forward to collect their letters while Lady Catherine exclaimed, “What is wrong? Has Viscount Reighton been in an accident?”

Lady Matlock gasped in alarm at these words, and Richard cast an angry look at his aunt and said, “This letter is from Darcy, so I am confident it has nothing to do with my elder brother.”

“Darcy wrote to me as well,” the earl remarked, and Lady Matlock relaxed noticeably.

“Well, what do they say? Is Darcy returning to Town?” Lady Catherine demanded, entirely unrepentant of alarming her sister by marriage.

“If you will allow us a moment to read, Sister,” the earl said irritably.

Richard carried his letter closer to a candelabra and lowered his eyes to the page.

Longbourn

26th December

Richard,

I am engaged to be married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn! I daresay that comes as a great surprise, but I have been in love with Elizabeth for weeks, though I did not acknowledge it to myself because I was a dullard.

Fortunately, I came to my senses on Christmas Day, and we will marry by license soon. If your military duties allow, I hope you will come to our wedding so that you can meet my bride. She is wonderful, Richard; clever, diligent, and bright, and she fills me with joy.

Georgiana is not as excited as I am, because that would be impossible, but she does adore Elizabeth as well. More than that, she has formed a friendship with Elizabeth’s younger sisters; they are a lively bunch and have brought my dear sister out of her shell.

I will send you a letter when we have determined the date…

“What?!”

The bellow of incandescent rage from Richard’s left jerked the colonel’s attention away from this astonishing missive and toward Lady Catherine, who was staring at Lord Matlock, her eyes bulging.

“Darcy is engaged to a woman from Hertfordshire,” Matlock said in a colorless voice, apparently for the second time.

“Impossible!” Richard’s aunt roared. “Absolutely impossible! Darcy is engaged to Anne! You must have read it incorrectly!”

Matlock, who was looking mildly disturbed, sighed and handed over the letter to his sister. Lady Catherine held the paper at arm’s length – she was, Richard knew, struggling to see well in her later years but had so far refused to wear spectacles – and turned so that the candlelight fell on the page.

Richard was able to read over his aunt’s shoulder; the letter from Darcy to Lord Matlock was shorter than his own and far less sweet.

Sir,

I have the honor of informing you that I am engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. We will be married within the next fortnight, though we have not yet chosen a date.

I have sent notices to all the London papers and the announcements will appear on 29th December.

Please give my greetings to my aunt and the rest of the family.

Sincerely,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Lady Catherine was now plum with fury, and she took the letter and tore it in two, and then four pieces, and strode over to the fire and threw the remnants into the fire, where they lit up, producing a brief flare which died away within seconds.

“Catherine, really!” the earl said indignantly. “You have no right…”

“Darcy has no right to throw over my daughter, Matlock!” the mistress of Rosings hissed. “He and Anne have been engaged since they were in their cradles.”

Richard glanced at Anne, who had turned her head away from her raging mother and toward the fire. He had no hope of placating Lady Catherine, who disdained him both because of his age and his position as a second son, but he could comfort Anne.

He took his place next to Anne, who turned a surprised, but obviously joyful face toward him, and he, after a moment of astonishment, found himself grinning at her.

“You are pleased?” he asked softly.

“Very pleased,” Anne murmured back. “I like Darcy well enough, but to marry him? To live in chilly Derbyshire? To be mistress of Pemberley? To attempt to bear a child given my poor health? Only Mother would think that was a good idea!”

“I am happy for you both, then,” Richard said, “though I fear that you will be forced to endure considerable grumbling in the next weeks.”

Anne looked at her mother, who was still railing at the earl, and said, “Far better for Darcy to break the nonexistent engagement than I, though you are correct, I will be listening to a great deal of complaining when we return to Rosings.”

Richard cast a thoughtful look at his father and aunt, and then shifted his gaze to Lady Matlock, who was sitting calmly, a placid expression on her face.

“Perhaps you would like to spend some weeks here in London with my mother?” he suggested.

“I doubt my mother will permit it,” Anne said wearily.

Richard, who knew that his female cousin was of age, bit back a sharp retort; Lady Catherine had no right to order her daughter around, but the habits of more than two decades were now set in stone.

“Allow me speak to my mother. Now that there is no hope that Darcy will marry you, perhaps Lady Catherine would be pleased by the thought of having you introduced to more of the ton.”

Anne considered this for a few seconds and then nodded. “Yes, that would be pleasant.”

He grinned at her approvingly; he was quite certain that much of Anne’s poor health lay at the feet of her mother. Lady Catherine cosseted her only child and kept her well wrapped in lamb’s wool, and the colonel thought she would benefit from more fresh air and exercise and, perhaps, the care of a reputable physician here in Town.

“I will speak to my mother on the topic,” he promised.

“Thank you, Richard.”