Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

M r Bennet did not, in fact, rush to Pemberley directly, with or without his wife and daughters, but he was convinced to allow Elizabeth to marry from there. He was not initially inclined, but a pleading missive from his favourite, full of horror stories of the frippery he would endure should the wedding be hosted from Longbourn, persuaded him. Mrs Bennet had been far easier to convince, Elizabeth had reported with some amusement. After describing the splendours of Pemberley in a detailed letter, her dear mama had become convinced that the scheme was all her idea. Admittedly, Darcy was somewhat apprehensive to receive Mrs Bennet and the younger girls, but the benefit was worth any drawback.

Several weeks later, they met the Bennets on the front steps in a pandemonium of noise and flailing hands, much of which was due to Mrs Bennet alone. Mr Bennet and his eldest daughter embraced Elizabeth more sedately, though it was clear how well pleased they were to see her again by their warm smiles and glistening eyes. Miss Mary and Miss Lydia were received with the same apparent joy, but Elizabeth turned to her second youngest sister with a more tender regard. Little wonder, given what Miss Catherine had recently endured at Brighton.

Upon visiting Elizabeth at the Blue Lady the day after their engagement was announced, she had greeted him with tears rather than the expected jubilation. Upon asking, most anxiously, what grieved her, he had been relieved to learn that she was not regretting their new understanding, only dismayed by a letter from her eldest sister, which had arrived after Elizabeth and the Gardiners had left for Pemberley on that fateful day. Miss Catherine had run afoul of Wickham at Brighton. Apparently eager to depart his regiment over some debts of honour he could not pay, the wastrel had attempted to seduce Miss Catherine into running away with him so that he could secure her pin money—and, presumably, a pleasant companion for however long he intended to hide. Miss Catherine, to her credit, had changed her mind at the last moment and refused to go with him—not the first time his charms had failed him, Darcy noted wryly to himself—at which time Wickham had attempted to force her into submission. She was only saved by the intervention of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who happened upon the scene of Wickham wrestling Miss Catherine into a hackney.

Darcy had wondered at the coincidence of his own cousin being in exactly the right place at the right time to intercede, but subsequent communications from Fitzwilliam had informed him that his presence in Brighton had been no accident. Darcy had, some months ago at Rosings, mentioned Wickham joining the militia, and Fitzwilliam had taken it upon himself thereafter to keep abreast of the miscreant with his not inconsiderable army resources. Upon learning that Wickham was destined for Brighton, and desirous of a trip to the seaside himself, it had been easy enough to get himself assigned there also. From there, he had trailed Wickham, realised the lout was poised to flee, and…well, Miss Catherine was fortunate that the colonel always got his man.

Wickham was set to face military justice, and although Fitzwilliam was confident that he would, at last, be required to bear the consequences of his actions, Darcy had sent his cousin all the debts he had accrued on his erstwhile friend's behalf over the years. Should the army fail to either jail or transport Wickham for his crimes, the amount he owed Darcy ought to be enough to see him confined to Marshalsea instead. Anything to keep the villain from preying upon any other unsuspecting young women.

Once they returned to the saloon where Georgiana, Bingley, and the Gardiners waited, Mrs Bennet began exclaiming over everything in sight. Bingley—who had remained behind to attend the wedding while his sisters and Hurst travelled on to Scarborough, at Miss Bingley's vehement behest—was the first to receive her effusive praise, but the wallpaper and curtains were no less remarkable to her than he. "I might have added a bit more lace here and there, but…well, the effect is quite lovely, all the same. And I do admire this shade of blue! What is it? Cerulean? I should very much like to decorate my favourite parlour in this hue…"

While Mrs Bennet continued to praise Pemberley to the skies, she quite overlooked the reunion of her eldest daughter and their former neighbour. This was perhaps for the best, as the bit Darcy witnessed from surreptitious glances was rather awkward, and Mrs Bennet's contribution would hardly have been helpful. Bingley at first seemed to stumble over his words and wave his hands unnecessarily, and Miss Bennet would barely look at him— another thing that was likely fortuitous, for otherwise she might have taken one of Bingley's gestures in the nose, and the entire endeavour would have been even more unfortunate.

Some minutes after Darcy had last grimaced and forced himself to look away from the uncomfortable scene, he felt the sharp poke of Elizabeth's elbow in his side and turned to her. She tilted her head subtly in the direction of the hapless couple, and he was pleased to note that the situation between them had apparently improved. Bingley's hands, while still in motion, were more controlled as he sat perched on the edge of his chair and gazed with besotted wonder at Miss Bennet. The lady, her cheeks flushed lightly pink, gazed back with more feeling than Darcy had ever given her credit for. It seemed that all had ended well, despite the meddling of friends and relations.

At length, Mrs Bennet's voice tired, and she was required to take a sip of her tea, which she had already declared splendid prior to actually tasting it. Grabbing her chance, Miss Lydia asked a question she had been all but bursting with. "Mr Darcy, is your cousin the colonel coming to the wedding?"

A glance at Miss Catherine and her ashen features gave Darcy a pang of pity for the girl. "Unfortunately, no. Fitzwilliam has some remaining…business in Brighton and cannot be spared from his duties at this time. We expect to see him next month, when he has leave." In truth, Fitzwilliam was determined to see Wickham punished severely for his latest transgression, though Darcy could not say as much in present company.

Miss Lydia loudly voiced her disappointment, but Miss Catherine sagged in apparent relief. Elizabeth, far more sensitive to her second youngest sister's feelings, immediately changed the subject. "Mary, I believe you would appreciate the music room here. The pianoforte is exquisite, and the view from the terrace…"

After partaking of refreshments, the Bennets were shown to their guest chambers, while the rest of the party dispersed to change for dinner. The Gardiners, with the arrival of their Hertfordshire relations, had at last settled their account at the Blue Lady and retired to Pemberley with Elizabeth, bringing them all under his roof. Darcy had been forced to promise no more midnight rendezvous with his betrothed, but at least they were no longer separated. How he longed to have Elizabeth to himself! But such would have to wait until Monday when they were properly wed.

At the landing that divided the family and guest wings, Elizabeth brought them to a halt, allowing her relations to proceed down the corridor without her. Surreptitiously, she whispered, "Once you are dressed, meet me in the gallery." So saying, she winked and relinquished his arm, following a bemused Miss Bennet to their assigned chambers.

Or perhaps not! Darcy's heart galloped at the thought of a private moment with his beloved. He set off to rush Bailey through the necessary ablutions.

A short time later, though far longer than Darcy would have preferred, he marched into the gallery to find Elizabeth already there, perusing his portrait with a soft gaze. "Were that not my own likeness, I should have to call that gentleman out for stealing your affections from me."

Elizabeth turned her head, her tender regard shifting into impish amusement by the time she faced him. "None of that, good sir, for you know where my heart truly lies."

"And where might that be, my love? "

"Why, with Pemberley, of course! I believe I fell in love with you upon first seeing your beautiful grounds here."

Within three strides, she was gathered up in his arms and giggling against his lips. It was not long before her amusement was quieted and her fingers were tangled in his hair, devoting herself to the bliss of their stolen moment.

At length, when they were both properly dishevelled but before their clothing became terribly disarranged, Darcy drew back, trailing kisses up Elizabeth's throat and back towards her mouth. They were both breathing heavily, and their hearts, pressed against one another, were racing at the same fevered tempo. With great effort and a resigned moan, he ceased his attentions and buried his nose in the crook of Elizabeth's neck. "Remind me why we must wait until Monday to marry?"

Elizabeth stroked his hair and nuzzled at his temple, easing his frustration. "Because it is already too late today, and tomorrow is Sunday."

"I ought to have sought a special licence."

"I sincerely doubt the archbishop would have granted one to an untitled landowner, regardless of his wealth."

"He would not have denied me," Darcy grumbled against her shoulder. "I can be rather persistent when I choose to be."

He was rewarded with a laugh for this observation. "I cannot deny it, but taking your cause to the Archbishop of Canterbury would have deprived me of your company, and I know you would not be so cruel."

Darcy sighed and pulled back enough to see Elizabeth's face. It was full of adoration, and he could not help stroking her cheek with reverence. "As ever, you are correct, my love."

"Best you remember that through our years together. Your life will be all the happier for it. "

"Minx."

Creak .

Darcy was just leaning in for another kiss, when a sharp squeal followed by the pitter-patter of disembodied footsteps caught his attention. Someone, be they guest or servant, was approaching just around the bend of the corridor.

Unwilling to relinquish their privacy just yet, Darcy scanned the length of the gallery for a likely hiding place. There were no pedestals large enough for the office of concealing both of them, nor was it at all tempting to crawl beneath the settee in the centre of the space. His gaze alighted on an open door at the far end—his mother's study. The knob and associated mechanisms had been replaced, but there was still no satisfactory explanation for their entrapment the previous month. Dare I risk it?

A glance at Elizabeth decided him. As the footsteps drew nearer, he grasped her hand in his and tugged her towards their convenient haven. They darted through the gap between the door and its frame, ducking quickly out of sight, but Darcy made a point of leaving it open. Just in case.

Elizabeth laughed at him. "Fitzwilliam, what are you doing?"

Wrapping his arms about her waist, Darcy pulled her flush against him before responding, "Keeping you to myself." With this declaration of intent, he resumed his earlier ministrations with gusto. When the door snapped shut a few seconds later, they were both too occupied to mind.