Chapter 29

E lizabeth was wholly restored to health by the time the Bennets and Mr Bingley arrived at Pemberley.

She anxiously awaited the arrival of the carriages from the drawing-room terrace for an hour, eager to rush to the porch to greet them.

Then, eventually, she observed the carriages descending from the top of the hill into the valley where Pemberley lay.

On Darcy’s arm, surrounded by Mrs Barstow, Miss Darcy, and her aunt and uncle, she struggled to hold back tears upon seeing her father alight from the carriage. In just a few steps, like a young man, he swiftly approached his beloved Lizzy, enfolding her in his arms until Mrs Bennet protested that she wanted to embrace her daughter too.

Amidst tears, laughter, and noisy conversation all at the same time, the joy filled Pemberley’s valley, reflected in the beautiful sky that celebrated their reunion with its shimmering blue colour and perfect white clouds .

However, when Mrs Bennet and Mrs Gardiner embraced and began weeping, Elizabeth spoke with determined affection, “Ladies, I forbid tears in my home.”

This statement, delivered naturally, prompted everyone’s attention; it was the first time Elizabeth and Darcy’s marriage had been spoken of before the family. While their love was already well-known to all, with even the servants referring to Elizabeth as their mistress, the couple remained silent about their intentions.

“Why did I say that?” Elizabeth pondered. “You regard me as Pemberley’s mistress, only its master has not sought my hand. Perhaps Mama could intercede in this matter!” she jestingly suggested, devoid of resentment.

“I do not interfere in my daughters’ affairs,” came the response, eliciting laughter from all present.

Despite any mischievous words from Elizabeth, Mrs Bennet was prepared to forgive. They had endured a terrible period following the distressing message from Pemberley that only said that Elizabeth had suffered an accident, and their presence was necessary.

Mr and Mrs Bennet had prepared to leave in haste, yet finally, no one had stayed behind; Mr Bingley had proposed that they all travel to Pemberley—Kitty and Mary included. Being of a joyful nature, he could not imagine anything dreadful happening to his future sister-in-law, and already knowing all the details of Darcy and Miss Elizabeth’s story, he had secretly hoped that a double marriage would take place amidst the stunning scenery of Derbyshire.

Their journey had begun under a heavy cloud of despair, and despite Mr Bingley’s attempts, they had travelled engulfed in sadness and tears.

Then, two days prior, while pausing for refreshments, they had received the miraculous news that Elizabeth was awake, progressing to a full recovery, and she was eagerly awaiting their arrival.

“Imagine,” Mr Bennet genially remarked to Darcy as they entered the house, “that during half the journey, the ladies wept for Lizzy’s illness, and during the other half, they cried for her recovery.”

They exchanged smiles, with Darcy instantly warming to Elizabeth’s father, their shared humour and somewhat sardonic outlook on life marking the beginning of a promising relationship.

A single glance from Darcy towards Elizabeth dispelled any lingering concerns Mr Bennet may have had. Henceforth, all he wanted was a glass of brandy away from the ladies, who spent the afternoon together, listening to Elizabeth recount the peculiar tale of her experiences since her fall.

“And you believed you were at Longbourn?” Mary asked, astonished.

“Yes, and it felt so real that awakening in a bed at Pemberley made that seem like the dream,” Elizabeth recounted.

Initially unaware of Lydia not being present, Elizabeth soon realised something was amiss. Lydia had not made the journey, and there was something strange in her absence, as neither Kitty nor Mary would divulge any details.

“Papa will explain everything,” Jane concluded, and indeed, just before dinner, they gathered in the drawing-room, where Mr Bennet reluctantly recounted a story he abhorred, evident in his struggle to articulate his thoughts and emotions.

“I shall be brief, and we shall speak of it no more, for this is a time of celebration.”

Mrs Bennet attempted to interject, but Mr Bennet silenced her. “Please, Mrs Bennet, be still. Only that which occurs within these walls warrants joy, the rest is a lamentable tale showing our failures as parents. Lydia, against my advice, married Mr Wickham after he persuaded her to elope.”

A murmur of dismay swept through the room. Mr Bennet glanced at Mr Darcy, who made no effort to conceal his displeasure, while Mr Bennet continued to speak. “Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam were an invaluable help in finding the fugitives. Unfortunately, as I told you, Lydia was determined to marry him, which was, in my opinion, a terrible decision. She would have been better dishonoured than married to that scoundrel.”

“Mr Bennet!” Mrs Benner exclaimed, obviously distressed by her husband’s words. She was happy that Lydia was married; nothing could convince her to feel differently.

“I conclude this unpleasant business by informing you that, in a brief encounter with the newly married couple, I made it clear they are unwelcome in our family. Despite Mrs Bennet’s objections, my decision is final. Anyone wishing to meet them may do so, but not in my presence—”

“Nor mine!” Mr Darcy interjected, with Elizabeth approaching him, fully aware of his turmoil and shocked by that news that could compromise her happiness.

“I am sorry,” she murmured with obvious worry, to which he smiled as if nothing had happened and invited everyone to dinner.

Yet, Elizabeth saw his sadness through his smile, choosing to sit beside him rather than across the table, wanting to gaze into his eyes.

“You knew,” she whispered as they settled at the table.

“Of course, my dear. How else do you suppose the colonel became involved?”

“I see,” Elizabeth said.

“But this is not a topic for tonight,” he declared, and she scrutinised him to gauge his sincerity.

He smiled, kissed her hand, and helped her sit beside him.

“Elizabeth is concerned that I am troubled because of the news Mr Bennet gave us,” he quipped, observing his family around the table. “I am not. What we have experienced in recent days puts trivial matters into perspective. Truly, I care only about being here with you and celebrating our happiness together. And with the colonel and the Matlocks, who will arrive soon to complete our family.”

Darcy’s words lightened the mood, and soon, laughter, jokes, and amiable conversations filled the table.

Despite her restored happiness, Elizabeth whispered to Darcy as the meal drew to a close, “I shall not marry you without a proper proposal, even though you persuaded my parents to come. ”

“And I shall not marry you without asking,” he assured her with a smile. “This evening,” he finally declared in front of everybody, “the ladies will not withdraw. Instead, we shall all move onto the second floor.”

The balcony, typically a vantage point for admiring the estate’s gardens and distant woodlands, was shrouded in darkness, the absence of candles adding to the intrigue of the evening’s unfolding surprise.

Then, Elizabeth observed a crowd gathered on the paths. They were the people living on the Pemberley estate, arriving with their families. She could see a lot of children who all stood in curious silence as if they were waiting for the most important event.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy, who smiled and invited her to be patient for another moment.

Then he took her hand, and at his signal, the night sky above Pemberley erupted in a spectacle of fireworks—a dazzling display of light, colour, and sound. Intricate patterns, painting the dark backdrop with vivid hues of red, blue, green, yellow, and purple, spherical chrysanthemums that bloomed across the sky to cascading willows that gracefully fell like glittering rain, eliciting gasps of wonder and admiration from those who had never before witnessed such a marvel.

The spectacle lasted a long time, continuously punctuated by the wonder and delight of those present.

Now, waiting for quiet to descend, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and asked in a murmur that only she heard, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? ”

Still under the spell of the colourful lights, she turned to him and answered, “Yes, Mr Darcy, I shall be your wife!”

Then, ensuring everybody heard what he said, he spoke with evident delight, “Dear all, Pemberley has a new mistress! Let us celebrate my future wife, Elizabeth Bennet!”

And the celebration began.