Chapter Eighteen

November 28, 1811

Hertfordshire

Darcy

Bingley was far from pleased when Darcy tapped lightly on his door before the sun had fully risen. Despite his grumbles, he dressed and was ready for their morning ride in fifteen minutes. Darcy, eager to be off, had not seen Elizabeth since the ball, and he could scarcely wait to speak with her again. He and Bingley had not ventured out the day before, content to recover from the evening that had stretched to the early hours of the morning. Instead, Darcy had spent his time completely occupied with correspondence from Georgiana and several letters of business from his steward and solicitor.

They kept their mounts at a walk. Bingley yawned and rubbed his eyes continually. He looked half-asleep in the saddle, his cravat crooked, his hair tousled, and his coat buttoned incorrectly, revealing that his valet had not dressed him that morning.

"Why in the world must we venture out so blasted early?" Bingley growled, his voice thick with fatigue. "It was only two days ago that we danced into the early hours of the morning. Why can a man not have a chance to recover?"

"You spent the entirety of yesterday abed," Darcy replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"And I should have liked to do so today as well." Bingley rubbed a hand over his face again, waking himself.

Rest assured, I shall inform Miss Bennet that her future partner does not have a fondness for mornings, Darcy teased, his laughter unmistakable. Bingley scowled.

"Jane does not like mornings either. She understands the necessity of our early meetings, however. It is far easier to court someone properly without the eyes of the entire village upon you."

Darcy nodded. "I concur. We are both well-matched to our chosen ladies. Elizabeth cannot abide staying abed."

"You must be certain to hire a lady's maid for Miss Elizabeth, who will equally favor early mornings," Bingley advised.

Darcy suspected his habits would change upon his marriage. Laying abed might not be so terrible if he was not doing so alone.

They crested the hill, and Darcy scanned the area for the Bennet sisters. A flash of color beneath the trees alerted him to their whereabouts, and he turned his mount in that direction.

Bingley followed, and they dismounted some twenty feet from the ladies. Darcy drank in Elizabeth's appearance. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, and several errant curls escaped her bonnet. The chill in the air had prompted her to employ a muff and a fur-lined cloak, and Darcy thought she had never looked more charming.

"Good morning, Fitzwilliam," she said, drawing near. Darcy held out his arm, and she took it. "Shall we walk to ward away the chill?"

He nodded, and they began picking their way through the trees. Bingley and Miss Bennet went in the other direction, leaving Sally on a log in the middle of the trees. The maid had a lap rug draped over her and woolen gloves on her hand.

"She is a good lass," he said, nodding his head toward the girl. "Is she keeping our secret from your mother?"

"Yes, I am certain she is, and my father gave her additional strictures to say nothing. Sally's mother served my grandmother before her passing. We played together as girls," Elizabeth confided. "When her mama died, Sally took her place. She has been a faithful friend and a loyal servant."

"Such devotion deserves a reward."

"I hope to present her with an ample Christmas box this year," Elizabeth said.

"I shall ensure it is so."

His beloved turned and smiled up at him. "Your generosity knows no bounds!"

He pasted a haughty look on his face. "I am exceedingly attentive to such things." He sniffed affectedly, and Elizabeth laughed in delight.

Darcy chuckled. "You have never met my aunt, but I imagine you will now be able to recognize her on sight."

"I take it, then, that your disdainful impression mirrors her manner?" Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "My Aunt Catherine is excessively attentive to anything she believes is within her purview. This includes anything from tenant concerns to the content of her parson's sermons. My aunt wishes to be of use to everyone and refuses to see her behavior as officious."

"Family often provokes such feelings within us, and yet we love them."

He patted her hand affectionately. "I might concede that I maintain a familial affection for her despite her… frustrating behavior." He leaned in conspiratorially. "My cousin calls her Lady Cat behind her back."

Elizabeth's laughter rang out, echoing off the trees. The sound filled him with delight, and he observed her beloved countenance, taking in the sparkle of mirth in her eyes.

When her laughter subsided, Elizabeth changed the subject. "You will be required to endure my mother's effusions of joy if you deign to call upon Longbourn today."

Darcy glanced at Bingley and Jane in speculation, but Elizabeth shook her head. "My sister Mary suspects she will receive an offer of marriage this morning. Mr. Collins has made no secret of his intentions. Given his need to return to his flock, Mama expects him to offer for my sister soon. He is the heir to our estate; have I told you? My mother will feel overwhelmed knowing her future is secure!"

"I am pleased on behalf of your family," Darcy said, though jealousy flared in his breast. If only he could secure his own happiness so expeditiously!

Elizabeth appeared to understand, and she ceased their movement to face him. "This state of affairs will not always be," she murmured, her gloved hand reaching up to touch his cheek. Compassion shone in her gaze.

Darcy longed to sweep her up in into his arms and kiss her deeply. Instead, he turned the hand that touched his cheek and kissed her wrist reverently. His eyes closed as he breathed deeply, taking in the scent of her perfume. When he opened his eyes, he gazed into Elizabeth's. His heart burned with unspoken words, and he cursed the conspirators who kept him silent.

"Lizzy!" Miss Bennet called, breaking the spell. Elizabeth turned to acknowledge her sister. "Can we not return? I am freezing!"

"Are you so eager to leave Mr. Bingley's side?" Elizabeth teased. "What do you think of that, sir?"

"What nonsense, Lizzy! Mr. Bingley is just as chilled as I am," Miss Bennet scolded. "Your preference for meetings before the sun has warmed the air properly is at fault!" The mock scowl she granted her younger sister made Elizabeth laugh.

"It is hardly our fault that you slug-a-beds cannot abide the hours we must keep whilst we continue our… interludes ." Elizabeth tossed her head as Darcy had seen Miss Lydia do so various times and realized how much the younger sister resembled the elder.

Miss Bennet wrapped her arms around herself to emphasize her chilled state. "Mr. Bingley has offered to call upon Longbourn at a more reasonable hour. I am certain he can persuade his friend to accompany him."

Darcy intended to do so, but he bemoaned the loss of Elizabeth's company so soon.

"We will make our farewells and then depart," Elizabeth said, her voice resigned to the inevitable.

Jane nodded and turned away, going to Bingley's side to bid him farewell. Darcy still held Elizabeth's hand, and she turned again to face him.

"I am loath to part so soon," she murmured. She clasped his hand with both of hers, as her free hand joined her other hand in his grasp. Her thumbs glided along the surface, eliciting a shiver down his back. Delicately, she lifted their entwined hands and bestowed a kiss on them. With a gentle gesture, Darcy lifted his hand to cradle her face, attempting to convey his deep affection for her through his eyes.

"Farewell," she whispered softly. Elizabeth released him and stepped away, turning toward her sister. Sally gathered up the lap rug and trailed after the ladies. Darcy watched them go, making no move to mount his horse. Just before disappearing from view as they descended the hill, Elizabeth cast a glance backward. She offered him a small wave before her sister's cry to hurry urged her onward.

"You are well and truly lost, old man," Bingley said from atop his horse.

"And may I remain so," he said fervently. Darcy turned and mounted his horse as Bingley voiced his agreement wholeheartedly. They rode back to Netherfield in silence, Darcy lost in his contemplations and Bingley focused on remaining alert. As he delivered the reins of his horse into the hands of the stableboy, Darcy vowed to see an end to this madness.

~

Hours later, Darcy rubbed his eyes wearily. He had returned to his chambers after seeing Elizabeth that morning and remained there. The breakfast tray that Jasper had arranged was long since consumed. Now nearing luncheon, he decided he needed a break. The air would be warmer than it had been earlier, and a walk in the gardens sounded pleasant. Suddenly, there were shouts coming from outside his sitting room, and he quickly donned his coat so he could see what all the commotion was about. He pulled the door open and observed Bingley and Mrs. Hurst speaking animatedly in the hall.

"What do you mean, you cannot find her?" Bingley snapped, his frustration evident. "Where could she have gone?"

"I do not know," Mrs. Hurst said, wringing her hands anxiously. "She retired after dinner last night, and no one has seen her since. It appears she did not sleep in her bed, and several of her things are missing."

"What about breakfast?" he added, his voice now infused with worry.

"The maid did not bring a tray until now, exactly as Caroline ordered." Mrs. Hurst fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist. "Caroline always takes a tray in her room…"

"And she left no note?"

"None," Mrs. Hurst confirmed. "I looked everywhere for one."

"I suppose we must wait for a word," Bingley said glumly. "Perhaps she returned to London."

"In what carriage?" Mrs. Hurst asked. "She would rather die than take a public coach."

"What has happened?" Darcy asked, though he thought he already knew.

"Caroline has disappeared," Bingley said miserably. "We do not know where she has gone, and there is no sign of a struggle. All things indicate she went willingly, wherever that may be."

Darcy frowned, suspicion creeping into his mind. He dismissed it instantly; Wickham barely knew Miss Bingley. Except… that had never stopped him before, had it? Until Darcy was sure that Wickham was the guilty party responsible for the rumors that caused his misfortune, he felt he could do nothing.

The unsettled nature of things at Netherfield compelled Darcy to send a brief note to Longbourn, informing Elizabeth and Miss Bennet that he and Bingley would not be waiting upon them that afternoon. Darcy sent the missive with Jasper, instructing him to see it into Sally's hands.

Bingley and the Hursts spent the day cloistered in the parlor. Mr. Hurst seemed unaffected by the news that his sister-in-law had vanished. Darcy idly wondered what the man's mother would say when she learned Miss Bingley had eloped. Mrs. Hurst alternated between pacing and weeping. Occasionally, she sat on the settee and attempted to embroider, but she was never still for long before standing and moving about.

Bingley remained seated before the fire. He positioned his elbows on his knees, tightly clutching his hair with his hands. They would regularly comb through his hair, and with each stroke, his locks became more and more unkempt until they stood upright. The party retired to their beds early, wondering when they would have news of Miss Bingley's whereabouts.

No word came until the next morning when Darcy received an express from Wickham—not franked, of course. He recognized the writing immediately and tore open the seal without hesitation.

Dear Darcy,

Are you surprised to hear from me, old chum? I imagine not. You are a smart man, so have probably deduced that I played a part in your current banishment from society. I am not the only one out to destroy you, though I will withhold those details for now. Let me explain my role.

Some years ago, before I found myself in dire need of funds—a position in which you happily put me after your father's death—I received an offer of employment. Had you granted me even the pittance of a small allowance back then, I might not have resorted to taking these drastic measures.

At an inn, the agent of a grand lady approached me. She sought my aid in securing her heart's greatest desire: to bring about a marriage to Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. She provided a retainer to cover my living expenses and then promised to finance my life—five hundred pounds for each additional year I was successful at her goal of keeping you unwed. I have collected this sum for quite some time now, just so you know. I wanted that promise in writing, and she gladly provided it.

My task was simple: dissuade ladies from marrying you by any means necessary, while my benefactress employed other stratagems. My lady's personal informant kept us abreast of your decisions. I never met the man, but he proved adept at ingratiating himself with maids and the like, gleaning information from the unsuspecting fools. I took to my part of the assignment with zeal. I do not remember the names of the women you attempted to court, but each one soon found herself ruined, or worse, after you showed them interest. A few I charmed away, and another well-placed rock saw one thrown from her horse. As for the bit with the food, I confess no involvement—luck was simply on my side that night. After some years, you appeared to be no closer to doing her bidding. She was rather vexed and demanded I do something more to force your hand. We concocted a scheme to drive ladies away from you by declaring you unmarriageable. That did not seem to do the trick, and so, I used several disguises when in public to spread rumors of your curse. I recirculated the stories of the ladies for whom calamity had befallen, hoping to scare young women and matrons alike.

The ton took to the gossip with relish. Everyone likes to see an honorable man brought low, for jealousy exists regardless of acknowledgement.

When you appeared no closer to fulfilling the wishes of my benefactress, she demanded more drastic action, so we schemed once more, and placed Mrs. Younge in your household. She is the sister of one employed by my lady and more than willing to assist. Learning from our sources you were to summer at Ramsgate with Georgiana, we saw the perfect opportunity. Mrs. Younge would install herself in your household and would encourage you to let Georgiana manage the house after you departed for London. Had you not interfered, Darcy, I would have married Georgiana and forced you to accept my lady's plans for you. We would have published Georgiana's ruin, forcing you to accept your fate. Poor Mrs. Younge was devastated when we failed. My patroness withheld her payment in consequence!

When that plan failed, we added to the rumors, claiming that you had lost your family fortune and sought an heiress to pay your debts. This drove the desperate families away and firmly shut you out of the first circles. Even fashionable shopkeepers would not serve you! I kept the rumors fed, keeping you out of Town.

I had nothing to do with your invitation to Surrey. That was simply more convenient luck on my part. After that, we lost track of you for a time before our investigator reported your presence in Hertfordshire with Bingley to win Miss Bingley's hand. He became quite friendly with Miss Bingley's maid to gain the information. It appalled my benefactress; you , marry the daughter of a tradesman! Shame, shame, Darcy. But you were getting desperate, which is precisely what we intended. Soon, you will see reason.

And so, I hastened off to Meryton to woo your lady away. It took little. Miss Bingley already hated you and feared her brother would make her accept you. In her desperation, and after only a day of knowing me, I convinced her to elope to Gretna Green. By the way, I thank you for the use of your horses along the journey. Much appreciated, old man. We have been gone two days now if my letter was delivered as directed. Miss Bingley is well and truly ruined, thwarting your plans once again. And I have the added benefit of marrying an heiress. I shall be set for life once I collect my ultimate reward and you are properly leg shackled.

You will have no choice but to accept my lady's offer when she extends it. She will receive a missive from me today and will approach you within days. Be a good man and graciously thank her when she offers you a way back to society's good graces, will you?

Better luck next time, my friend,

George Wickham

Darcy did not know whether to laugh or cry. Answers. He had answers . Wickham had not named his mysterious benefactress, but Darcy could guess who it was. Lady Catherine had long wished for a marriage between him and his cousin, Anne. Had he listened to Lord Matlock long ago, he would have played right into her hands.

Darcy grimly handed Bingley the letter, and as he read each line, his complexion grew pale and his expression became disheartened, before he reluctantly handed it back to Darcy.

"What am I to do?" Bingley asked, choking back a sob.

"Nothing," Darcy said. "They are beyond our reach, now, having two days' head start. Miss Bingley has made her bed." Whether they anticipated their wedding vows hardly mattered. Even if Darcy and Bingley could overtake them on the road, having been alone with each other for so long, there was no hope of recovering Miss Bingley's reputation. "Bingley, I am sorry. I know I did not pay your sister any more notice than others, but this is my fault."

"No, no," his friend protested. "Caroline's actions are her own. I must ask: what will you do with such information?"

"I am going to Longbourn this instant," Darcy declared. "I mean to have a common license in hand and be married to Miss Elizabeth tomorrow. Only once I am wed will this insanity end. I will have an express prepared for my uncle and cousin. I hope they will come to help me deal with my aunt when she arrives."

"I shall accompany you," Bingley said resolutely. "My sister has ruined me. I must release Miss Bennet."

"She will refuse to let you go," Darcy predicted. If Miss Bennet harbored even half the affection for Bingley that he felt for her sister, she would never relinquish him in favor of another.

Bingley shook his head resolutely. "I must give her the chance to withdraw," he reasoned. "It is the honorable thing to do."

Darcy nodded in agreement, and they prepared to depart. They galloped across the fields, ignoring the mud that sprayed up onto their boots. Upon their arrival at Longbourn, they received a warm welcome, and Darcy swiftly suggested a walk in the garden. There, he disclosed the contents of the letter to Elizabeth while Bingley spoke to Miss Bennet in a far corner.

Elizabeth accepted the letter to read when he offered it to her, her eyes blazing with righteous anger when she handed it back upon completion. "What do you mean to do?" Elizabeth asked, her voice firm.

"I intend to seize my happiness at last," he said declared earnestly. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet—Elizabeth. The last months of my life have been the happiest I have experienced in a long time. While I courted you, I nearly erased the memories of the disasters and misfortunes that plagued me. I do not choose you because my chances in Town have been ruined, but rather because I have fallen under your spell and wish from this moment never to be parted from you. I love you most ardently. Of all the ladies I have ever met, it is you who suits me best. I have only ever loved you. Will you marry me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Elizabeth squeaked, her eyes wide with surprise.

"To thwart my enemies, it is the only way," he breathed, gently taking her hand in his. "I promise to celebrate our wedding with you in a grander way, even more befitting the lovely bride you are, once we have put an end to this nonsense. Please, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. Say you will be mine." He anxiously awaited her answer, intently beseeching her with his eyes. She was the key to all his happiness, and he could not bear it if she refused him.

"Of course!" Elizabeth cried, instantly granting him relief. "I was only so very startled by the idea of being married tomorrow. Shall we provide my papa some cause for amusement?"

"Indeed," Darcy agreed happily. He cursed their lack of privacy, for he wished nothing more than to sweep his beloved Elizabeth into his arms and bestow a kiss upon her lips.

They left Bingley and Miss Bennet to their discussion and hurried to find Mr. Bennet. He was ensconced in his study, as was his usual habit, and was vexed to be disturbed, until he heard the nature of their mission. He was, as Elizabeth suspected, highly amused with their scheme, and agreed readily.

"I imagine it will be a small gathering," Mr. Bennet mused. "Will you tell your mama, Lizzy?"

"I think not," Elizabeth declared. "It would be best not to have too many know of our plans. You and Jane will come. And I will send a note to Charlotte."

"That will do," Mr. Bennet laughed. "Off with you, Mr. Darcy, and acquire the common license. I am certain our parson will be more than happy to officiate your joyous day."

Darcy did just that, kissing Elizabeth's hand with gentle reverence before departing.

Later, he returned to Longbourn, finding Bingley still there, as he had not yet departed for Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet, in her usual exuberant manner, had invited both gentlemen to dinner that evening to celebrate Miss Mary's engagement to Mr. Collins. He had not yet made a formal introduction to the man—a tall and heavy-set gentleman clad in a parson's garb. He recalled seeing Mr. Collins, though they had not exchanged words.

The parson launched into an unending monologue about his good fortune and, amidst his ramblings, mentioned his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Darcy maintained a composed demeanor, concealing any reaction to the mention of his aunt. He harbored suspicions, wondering if the bumbling parson served as a spy for his Lady Catherine. He wondered how Elizabeth had not made the connection between her cousin's patroness and his aunt and rapidly attributed it to the distraction of their courtship. Darcy soon discerned that Mr. Collins was harmless—his nonsensical nature rendered him incapable of any nefarious intent.

Amidst the general cacophony of the gathering, Darcy once again evaded a formal introduction to the man. He had no desire to amend this oversight, preferring that someone so closely tied to his aunt remain unaware of his connection to her.

Dinner was a grand affair, the likes of which Darcy had seldom seen outside Pemberley's dining room. Each course had a myriad of dishes, harmoniously complementing one another. He offered congratulations to Mrs. Bennet on the superb meal, appreciating her efforts.

Miss Bennet, it seemed, had no intention of ending her courtship with Bingley, for they stayed inseparable throughout the meal. Their heads bent together in intimate conversation, and the blushes upon Miss Bennet's cheeks spoke volumes about the nature of their discourse. Bingley's expressions conveyed earnest adoration as he admired his beloved Jane. Seated away from Elizabeth, Darcy endured the childish chatter of Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, who paid him no mind. Elizabeth cast him commiserating glances across the table. They remained apart when the ladies withdrew from the dining room, leaving Darcy impatient for the morrow when he might finally declare to the world the depth of his affection for Elizabeth.

~

The morning arrived swiftly, despite Darcy's struggle to find sleep. His anxieties allowed him no respite, and when he finally succumbed to his exhaustion, his dreams turned to nightmarish visions of their wedding ceremony being interrupted by his aunt, flanked by an army of solicitors. Each time he awoke from such a nightmare, he would once again drift into a restless sleep, only to be plagued by another dream where Elizabeth met with every conceivable disaster. She experienced being thrown from a horse, poisoned, drowned, and even kidnapped. Awakening once more just before dawn, Darcy decided against seeking further rest. Instead, he rang for Jasper and requested a bath. While awaiting the water to heat, he rifled through his wardrobe with meticulous care, choosing his attire for this special day himself. He laid his selections upon the bed and settled in a chair to await Jasper's return.

The bath proved refreshing and restorative. After toweling off and warming himself by the fire, Darcy dressed with precision, donning his finest coat. Jasper tied his cravat intricately and adorned it with a jeweled pin. His valet regarded him with a puzzled expression but followed Darcy's instructions without comment. Darcy scrutinized his appearance in the looking glass, adjusting every detail before slipping on a greatcoat to conceal his elegant ensemble.

As he prepared, he rehearsed the day's schedule in his mind. They planned to marry after breakfast. Elizabeth and Jane would take a morning walk , while Mr. Bennet would claim business in the village. The three were to meet Darcy and Bingley at the chapel, where the parson, Mr. Winston, and Miss Lucas would join their company.

When all was ready, Darcy and Bingley boarded the carriage and traveled directly to the Longbourn chapel. There, they waited in front of the empty pews for the bride's party to arrive. Mr. Winston stood with them, a perplexed expression on his face. He had not questioned Mr. Darcy when he came to acquire the license, as Mr. Bennet had provided a note granting his permission for it to be drafted. Doubtless, the man wondered why one of his lifelong parishioners chose to marry in so hasty a fashion.

"Where is she?" Darcy muttered under his breath, glancing at his pocket watch anxiously. They had not a moment to lose! Should their wedding be interrupted—it did not bear thinking of.

"Peace, my friend," Bingley said, offering a reassuring smile. "All will be well."

Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas appeared first, hurrying down the aisle to take their places. The former was to stand with Elizabeth as her principal attendant, though Charlotte, too, stood by her side. Miss Bennet smiled brilliantly at Mr. Bingley, and Darcy noted with amusement the blush that bloomed on his friend's cheeks. Bingley shuffled his feet and cleared his throat before returning Miss Bennet's smile.

And then there she was. Mr. Bennet carefully escorted Elizabeth down the aisle, her arm looped through his. She looked resplendent in a gown of dark blue that Darcy had never seen before. Delicate embroidery adorned the skirt, and the similarly embellished sleeves reached just to her elbows. She was a vison.

Mr. Bennet stopped next to the group at the front of the church and carefully took Elizabeth's hand in his own. "Be happy, my dearest Lizzy," he said. He gently placed his daughter's hand in Mr. Darcy's with a quiet admonition. "Take care of my girl, sir." Darcy nodded solemnly and turned toward the waiting rector.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" With each word, Darcy's anxiety eased a little more. They exchanged their vows quickly, much to his relief, and Mr. Winston directed him to kiss his bride. Turning to face Elizabeth, he saw her flush with pleasure, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. He leaned toward her, pressing his lips delicately against hers, restraining himself for propriety's sake, and then pulled away.

"Good heavens, man, that was hardly adequate!" Mr. Bennet cried in amusement. "Do it again!"

Darcy grinned and stepped forward, cupping Elizabeth's cheek in his hand. He kissed her properly then, and she returned it with equal fervor. They broke away amidst the cheers of the few gathered to witness their joining, and soon they were signing the register, which the rector had moved to the front of the church for convenience.

Just as Darcy placed the quill down, the doors to the church banged open, the sound echoing loudly off the stone walls.

"This wedding cannot take place!" came a shout.

Darcy stiffened. He knew that voice, and it was not Lady Catherine's.