Chapter 35

Longbourn

Wednesday, 4 th December, 1811

Later

Longbourn bustled like an ants' nest that had been stirred with a stick. Rarely did those staid doors see such a buzz of visitors, but the double marriage of two of the daughters of the house occasioned an unusual celebration. Several of the denizens of Meryton, sons and daughters of the merchants and farmers, had been hired for the day to assist the family's servants, and they now scurried about under the directions of the cook and butler and housekeeper. Mrs. Bennet had sent out requests to the Lucases and to Netherfield requesting to borrow chairs to accommodate the sudden influx of guests, and their friends and neighbors had responded generously. Now, the chairs were set around in the sitting room and drawing room, every door thrown wide to allow for a smooth flow of traffic.

The house was filled with the smells of the wedding breakfast, sausage and eggs and kippers and ham and steak and rolls and pies and cakes and puddings and syllabubs and coffee and tea and chocolate. An extra leaf had been added to the dining table, which bowed slightly beneath its unaccustomed bounty.

The newly married couples had set up court in the drawing room, Mr. and Mrs. Collins at the one table and Mr. and Mrs. Bingley at another. A constant parade of well-wishers and congratulators moved past, continually interrupting the foursome's breakfasting, but none of them seemed to mind much. Mary was glowing with joy despite her husband's ebullience tipping a trifle to the absurd. Jane and Charles had eyes only for each other, overflowing with affection and happiness.

Elizabeth returned to the dining room from helping Mrs. Long carry her tea and plate into the drawing room, and took up her post near the door again. She had assigned herself the duty early on, as befitted her new status as Miss Bennet, of assisting the guests in any way they might need.

"Do get some food and sit down, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet ordered, bustling up to her second daughter.

Elizabeth looked around. "Are you certain there is nothing else that needs to be done?"

"I am certain," her mother said confidently. "You and the younger girls have been working very hard for weeks, and now is the time to relax and rest and enjoy what is, I daresay, one of the better meals you will ever see on my table."

Elizabeth, eying the table greedily, chuckled and said, "Yes, it is a wonderful spread. Thank you, Mamma."

She made her way to the table, filled her plate, and then walked down the corridor toward the library, which had been thrown open for this momentous day. She stepped into the library and halted briefly, startled to see her father seated at one of the two tables in the room, with Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mrs. Annesley seated across from him, while Anne de Bourgh sat next to Mr. Bennet.

"I rather like Marlowe," Bennet remarked. " Tamburlaine is grim, of course, but ... oh, Lizzy! Come over here and sit down, my dear!"

Elizabeth obeyed and felt her body relax at the sight of her father's smiling face and cheerful eyes. It seemed that Mr. Bennet's good humor had been restored after his painful walk down the aisle.

"Miss Bennet, many congratulations," Darcy said, his dark eyes gazing at her gravely. "I am confident both of your sisters will be happy."

"It was a beautiful wedding," Miss Darcy added shyly.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I am delighted for both of my sisters."

"It will soon be blessedly quieter here at Longbourn," Bennet said with a grin and gestured to a maid who had just entered the room. "I need more Madeira!"

"Yes, sir," the girl answered and retreated in haste.

"Do you like Christopher Marlowe's work?" Darcy asked Elizabeth.

"Not Tamburlaine , certainly," Elizabeth replied with a grimace, "but Doctor Faust is intellectually and spiritually provocative."

"I have never read it," Miss Darcy confessed.

"The essential plot is that a man of great intelligence," Darcy said, "but with little wisdom, sells his soul to the devil in exchange for four and twenty years of great power here on earth."

"What an appalling decision!" the girl exclaimed.

"Quite," Bennet agreed cheerfully, "but one aspect of the play had to do with the doctrine of predestination, which was a topic of great debate during that time in our country's history..."

The ensuing conversation was wide ranging and intellectual and Elizabeth, while taking part in the discussion, found herself torn between relief and melancholy. She liked and admired the Darcys very much and was pleased that her father was displaying his best side. On the other hand, it was most regrettable that it took a double wedding for Mr. Bennet to be in such a wonderful mood. Sadly, he would likely be back to his cantankerous self on the morrow, but for now she resolved to enjoy her father's happiness.

/

Longbourn

After Noon

Stable boys and footmen scurried to and fro in the side yard where the stables were. A post chaise driver stood drinking a hasty cup of tea before embarking on the long journey to Kent. Bingley's coachman already sat waiting on the box to carry the happy couple the three short miles to Netherfield. Last minute bags were being hastily shoved into the carriages, and warm bricks and ample rugs, as all the trunks had been sent ahead to take Jane's and Mary's clothes and special belongings to their new homes.

Mr. Collins handed his wife up into the chaise, beaming upon her beatifically. The crowd of their well-wishers surged forward, waving hats and handkerchiefs as the driver slapped the horses' backs with his reins. The pale winter sun shone benevolently down on the scene, brushing bonnets and pelisses and heavy winter coats with thin warmth. The sun had just reached its zenith, and the meager rays added cheer to the day. The chaise turned down the road and passed out of sight, and the crowd of friends and neighbors looked back to the Bingleys' carriage, which was now rolling down the gravel drive. Jane and Charles waved out of the window politely, before turning once more to each other as they pulled away from the house.

Mrs. Bennet had intentionally planned for the wedding and breakfast to be a trifle earlier than the norm, at Mr. Collins's and Mary's request. Lady Catherine had ordered her parson and his wife to return to Kent as quickly as possible. Fortunately, Mary was equally eager to leave the home of her childhood. They would be in the parsonage in Hunsford by that evening, having supper at their own table.

The Bingleys, of course, could have stayed longer at the celebration as they were so close to their own home. But no one, seeing the adoring glances the couple kept sharing, could doubt their desire to retreat to the privacy of their own suite at Netherfield. Nor was anyone surprised when they rose along with the Collinses to depart. Indeed, several husbands and wives exchanged knowing smiles.

As the Bingleys turned out of sight, the guests began drifting towards their own conveyances or, if they came on foot, to the road. Elizabeth heaved a deep silent sigh, grateful that both the wedding and the breakfast had gone smoothly, without a single hitch to perturb the couples' joy.

Mr. Bennet's good mood and agreeable behavior had continued throughout the celebration, though he had drunk a great deal of wine to numb the pain of his aching injuries. Now, Elizabeth thought contentedly, he would have Mr. Stewart help him to his own bedchamber where he would while away the rest of the day with his books and his brandy, resting from an unusually active day.

In truth, resting sounded like an excellent idea. It had been such a scramble and pelter to finish Mary's and Jane's trousseaus in time! The servants would work the next several hours cleaning up all the detritus left behind by a great party, but the lady of the house and her remaining daughters would spend the rest of the day at ease after a frenetic few weeks.

Elizabeth stepped through the door and glanced around the familiar front hall. All the doors were being closed up again, and the house seemed very quiet. It was peculiar to think that now she would not hear Jane's voice greeting her when she returned home or Mary's constant practice on the pianoforte. Her departed sisters left an emptiness in their wake, an absence that Elizabeth felt keenly. But there would be letters and visits, and in the meantime, Elizabeth would console herself with thoughts of their joy.

/

Darcy's Bedchamber

Netherfield Hall

Midnight

The fire crackled in the hearth, the logs shifting and falling low. Sparks flitted up the chimney, shadows dancing along the floor. Darcy lay in bed, relishing the warm spots from the warming pans and the freshly aired sheets. Sleep was in no hurry to claim him, his mind buzzing as he thought over the day. Bingley's face kept rising in his mind, glowing with unabated pleasure every time he looked at his radiant bride. Darcy was truly happy for his friend.

Darcy had planned to take Georgiana and Anne and Mrs. Annesley back to Darcy House in London and leave Netherfield to the newlyweds, but when he had brought this up to Bingley two nights previously, his friend had been indignant. It was absurd, Bingley had said, for his friends to think of leaving; Netherfield was sufficiently large that he and Jane could keep to their chambers when they wished for privacy. Neither Miss Bingley nor the Hursts would be departing, after all, and thus the newly married couple could have no qualms about leaving his various guests unentertained.

Darcy did not relish the company of either of Bingley's sisters, and he found Hurst a dead bore. But neither did he truly wish to take Anne back to Town, where she would likely deteriorate in health again. Influenced by the country air, and free of her mother's stressful influence, she was gaining weight, with roses in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. Georgiana, too, was better off here in the country, far from the oppressive atmosphere of Town.

Of course, he could carry them both off to Pemberley. Indeed, he had originally planned to spend Christmas at his own estate, as had long been his wont. This year, however, he found himself incredibly reluctant to leave Hertfordshire. He did not even have to wonder at the source of this unaccustomed attitude; Miss Elizabeth Bennet's beautiful face and sparkling brown eyes were never far from his mind.

His conversation with her and Mr. Bennet in the Longbourn library had been entirely enjoyable. Their discussion had been wide-ranging, starting at Marlowe's plays, moving, perhaps inevitably, to Shakespeare's body of work. From there, the discussion had wandered on; Henry the Eighth and his many wives, Tudor architecture, and then on to Elizabethan architecture.

Darcy had relished the hour whiled away in the sun-drenched library, with companions of sharp wit and clear intelligence. It was quite clear where Miss Bennet had gotten her cleverness and quick tongue, for Mr. Bennet was an erudite and thoughtful man. Still, Darcy had noted the Bennet patriarch drinking heavily during the breakfast, refilling his wine glass again and again. It was not hard to guess at the cause, as Darcy had seen the man wincing and grimacing all through the wedding service, and the way he walked with a slow and shuffling limp when he thought no one was looking. He had been pleasant all morning, though it was easy to imagine him succumbing to the pain and the liquor to be far less agreeable.

But Miss Bennet had been all that was dutiful towards her afflicted parent, patient and kind and showing all the deference due to her father. Darcy's admiration of her had only increased, and he found himself reflecting that he rather believed that he was in love with her. Despite her unfashionable upbringing, she had a real talent for navigating the social niceties, with no trace of the shyness which beset himself and Georgiana. She was not catty, like Miss Bingley, but remained unfailingly gracious, befriending his timid sister and his withdrawn cousin, drawing them both out into a joyful friendship. Her affection for her sisters was remarkable, and he had observed the respectful way she had spoken of and to her mother.

She was also remarkably beautiful. Those fine eyes! Those thick chestnut locks! Her light and pleasing figure!

The problem, of course, was her lack of connections. In spite of the encouragement of both Anne and Georgiana, he still struggled with whether or not he should pursue a country gentleman's daughter, no matter how much he admired her.

He was a Darcy, master of a great estate. His sister depended on him to care for her appropriately, and he could help her by wedding a woman of high connections, who swam comfortably through the complex social structure of the haut ton, and could pave the way for Miss Darcy of Pemberley.

And yet...

As Anne had pointed out, he had been ready enough to marry her , and that in spite of her poor health and discomfort with high society. But it was because he had been eager to fulfill Lady Anne's dying wish.

The truth was that he had, for all his life, been a creature of duty, and the idea of pursuing his own desire in a wife, of setting aside the expectations of his elders, seemed disrespectful and even immoral.

But that was stupid and ridiculous and absurd! Far better to marry a woman he genuinely loved, who would care for her husband and his relations, and the tenants, and yes, the children of the marriage with dedication and diligence!

Darcy groaned and rolled over in bed, frustrated with his circling thoughts. Duty versus desire. Desire versus duty. Or did duty and desire lead in the same direction? He hoped that it did.

For many years, he had prided himself on being a confident man, who could and did make his own choices. It was painful to realize how much of his choices was dependent on the arrogant desires of his elders, and his unconscious acceptance of societal mores.

And even if he did wish to marry Elizabeth Bennet, would she say yes? It was not at all certain that she wished to marry him in return! That too, was a remarkable state of affairs. He, who had been hunted and pursued by beautiful and noble debutants for many years, might be refused by a country miss. But Miss Bennet would doubtless have high standards for a husband, forewarned by her own parents' stressed marriage. And with two sisters well married, no longer would she feel the pressure of the entail.

He did love her. He did. But was love enough for such a marvelous woman?

Perhaps she would be amenable to a courtship, at least, the better to determine whether they would suit?

Yes, a courtship would be helpful, for her to know of his interests, but without promises on either side.

He would sleep on it, but if he felt the same in the morning that he did now, he would speak openly to Miss Bennet on the matter. This decision made, Darcy turned over in his bed and drifted off to sleep.