26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

April 24, 1812 Longbourn Elizabeth

M r. Darcy returned to Hertfordshire ten days after his departure. Elizabeth did not miss him and tried to take advantage of his absence. She visited her neighbors, went on long walks, and spoke freely with Charlotte whilst he was away. She knew her freedom would shortly be gone, and she would be required to account for her whereabouts once she married him.

He brought with him Georgiana, whom Elizabeth greeted warmly. Slight as their acquaintance was, they fell into easy conversation. Her future sister-in-law impressed Kitty and Lydia with her genteel manners and exquisitely made gowns. They peppered her with questions about her modiste, her favorite dances, and more.

“Have you danced at many balls?” Lydia asked her, only to be dismayed when she discovered that Georgiana Darcy had never been out, not in town, nor in the country. “How can you stand it?” Elizabeth’s sister cried. “I should die if I were not allowed to attend balls and assemblies.”

“I confess to having little desire at present to partake,” Georgiana said quietly. “I will have my come out when I turn eighteen.”

“How old are you now?” Kitty asked. “You cannot be any younger than Lydia. She turns sixteen in June.”

“I shall be seventeen in June,” came the reply.

“Oh? What day?” Lydia asked curiously.

And so, Elizabeth’s youngest sister and her future sister discovered their days of birth were only two days apart. Lydia’s birthday fell on June twelfth and Georgiana would celebrate two days after on the fourteenth. This information bonded the two youngest ladies, and they sequestered themselves in the corner to speak in hushed whispers. Kitty joined them, and though Lydia tried to exclude her elder sister, Georgiana welcomed her with open arms, exclaiming loudly how excited she was to have so many new sisters.

Mary hovered on the edges until she found the courage to ask Miss Darcy about her skills on the pianoforte. This topic enlivened Georgiana further, and she and Mary spoke about their favorite composers. Their skills were not equal to each other and Mary admitted reluctantly that her new friend played far better than she, but after Georgiana showed her a few tips regarding fingering, Mary’s playing improved almost instantly.

“My sister seems to be settling well,” Mr. Darcy observed one evening after dinner. He stood just behind Elizabeth, and his breath tickled the top of her head.

“Georgiana only wanted for more lively company,” she replied. “With such a serious and somber older brother, it is no wonder she is so terribly shy.”

“Does my propensity toward seriousness bother you?” He asked this curiously, no disparagement or censure in his voice. “I find that levity often leads to more dishonorable conduct. I would not wish to embarrass those I hold in esteem.”

“Seriousness and levity are not complete opposites, sir,” she chided, smothering her irritation. She needed to gain control of her adverse feelings toward him or face a life of misery. “One can be light-hearted and engaging without becoming a reprobate. Do you not laugh with your cousin? Colonel Fitzwilliam is a humorous man. Can he not elicit some happy reaction from you on occasion?”

“I reserve such sentiments for private moments when there is no need to keep my guard up.”

“I do not understand,” she said, fearing what his explanation would be.

“When I am at soirees, balls, musicals, and the like, I must have my guard up constantly lest my actions be construed as granting some lady my particular attention.”

She pulled a face. “And if you were to relax even for a moment, some young girl just out of the schoolroom would throw herself at you and force you into marriage?” she teased.

“Yes,” he replied, all seriousness. “It has happened. More than one lady has found herself on the ground at my feet rather than in my arms or lap where she intended.”

She sobered. “Do you speak in truth?” How dreadful to not be able to enjoy an evening out for fear of ending up in some predicament. The first stirrings of sympathy and understanding filled her. It did not excuse his boorish behavior, of course, but it did explain it.

“Is that why you refused to dance with anyone outside of your own party at the assembly?” she asked.

“It is. I heard the whispers almost as soon as we walked into the room.” He paused. “That is one benefit of being married. I shall be able to find enjoyment in society again.”

She smiled cheekily, though he could not see it from his position behind her. “Then you will make an effort to speak kindly to my neighbors whilst you are here. That is good.”

He did not respond immediately, and she turned to look at him, fire in her eyes. “Do you find something distasteful about my remark just now, Mr. Darcy?” The challenge in her question could not be mistaken.

“I did not prevaricate at Rosings Park. I do not converse easily with people I have never met.”

“You have met my neighbors. You would know them well had you taken the trouble to speak with them last autumn,” she countered.

He shook his head. “You cannot ask it of me.”

“I can, and I do! These are my friends and family. My sisters and I were raised with their sons and daughters. Is it not enough that I esteem them? Are my concerns and wishes so easily disregarded and cast aside in the face of your disapprobation for my neighbors?” She struggled to modulate her tone, aware that her pique caused her voice to rise.

He looked at her in surprise. “I will try if you wish, Elizabeth. It is not as if we will be long in their company. After we marry, it is not likely we will be in this part of the country often.”

“They are people, Mr. Darcy. Your conduct reflects on me . Their good opinion is something I value, and I will not lose it because you are too proud to converse with those you deem inferior.” She turned and left the room, seeking solitude in the garden to cool her ire.

He did not leave her alone long, seeking her out just ten minutes later. “I am sorry, dearest,” he whispered gently. He sat next to her on the long stone bench she had retreated to at the back of the garden. She did not look at him, staring stubbornly at her mother’s favorite rose bush. Finally, he reached out and turned her face toward him.

“I will try, Elizabeth. For you.”

“You ought to make the attempt because it is right and proper, not simply to please me,” she huffed. “Though they are not of the first circles, they are still human beings with hearts, souls, and feelings. Have you noticed that they avoid you? It is not because of your imposing presence, but out of dislike. Mrs. Long walked all the way around the settee when she arrived simply so she would not be required to greet you as she walked past. Had they any desire to presume upon you, they would do so without hesitation. You have intimated that those of your circle have done so with impunity.”

He frowned and seemed to be considering her words. “Thank you for your candor. I did not realize the people here disliked me so.”

She sighed. “Treat them kindly, sir. They do not deserve your censure.”

He nodded. Suddenly, the look in his eyes changed from one of contemplation to something else. Elizabeth could almost feel the heat of his stare, and he leaned in toward her, gently pressing his lips to hers. This, her first kiss, was gentle, filled with sweet sentiment. Still, it caused her heart to race and her breath to speed. When he pulled away, she was struck with the realization that all those times she had noticed him staring at her held a marked similarity to the gaze he now leveled in her direction.

“I love you, Elizabeth.” He said her name reverently and caressed her cheek gently.

She cleared her throat, glancing away. She could feel the heat in her cheeks that signified a blush. “Shall we return to the sitting room, sir?” she asked.

“My name is Fitzwilliam.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “You have yet to use it.”

“Fitzwilliam,” she said, testing how it felt to speak it. “It is very long.”

“No longer than Elizabeth. Both are four syllables. We are well matched.” He chuckled. “Bingley would make some remark about my preference for four-syllable words right about now.”

The reminder of the absent resident of Netherfield sobered Elizabeth’s mood and she stood up, brushing her skirts to free them of wrinkles. “Come along,” she said. “The guests are likely wondering where we have gone.”

“Is tea going to last much longer?”

She shook her head. “It will be over soon. I should tell you that my mother means to parade you around Meryton starting on Monday.”

“I had better practice, then,” he muttered. “There are only four-and-twenty households, after all.”

She laughed at that, and his responding grin told her he had been teasing. So, he has a sense of humor after all. That is good, for I dearly love to laugh. They returned to the sitting room and were immediately surrounded by neighbors expressing their well wishes.

Guests spoke primarily to Elizabeth, but Mr. Darcy responded to some queries.

“No, we will go to London first and then to Pemberley in July.”

“Yes, it is I who wished to marry so expeditiously. I wish to introduce Elizabeth in town.”

“No, I have no other brothers or sisters.”

“Georgiana is thrilled to have so many new sisters.”

Elizabeth felt pleased to witness Mr. Darcy’s efforts. His expression still looked serious, but his tone was polite and somewhat warm. Perhaps there is hope for him yet.

The following week, Mrs. Bennet visited every one of the four-and-twenty families in Meryton and the surrounding area, introducing Mr. Darcy as her future son-in-law and extolling the virtues of having a wealthy relation. She grew particularly bold with Lady Lucas, bragging about having two daughters married and wishing her friend and adversary the same good fortune.

Charlotte bore it all with patience, though Elizabeth recognized the hurt in her friend’s eyes. Silently, she vowed that she would see her dearest friend married, and barring that, she would offer her an invitation to live at Pemberley permanently.

Lydia’s new friendship with Georgiana provided the distraction needed to keep her and Kitty out of Meryton and away from the officers. It was Charlotte Lucas who quietly informed Elizabeth that Wickham had been flogged and then transported for his crimes. Mr. Darcy overheard it, and Elizabeth glanced at him to gauge his reaction. He looked sad and relieved; a peculiar combination that she wondered about.

Two days before the wedding, Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived at Netherfield Park with the rest of the Fitzwilliam family. With him came his older brother, Arthur Fitzwilliam, Viscount Bramwell, and father, Lord Hugh Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock. Darcy’s family was small, Elizabeth realized, suddenly feeling particularly grateful for her plethora of sisters.

Mrs. Bennet fell into an awed silence and behaved very well in front of Mr. Darcy’s wealthy relations. She hosted a family dinner the night before the wedding, and her planning and execution of the evening were perfect. Each course was sumptuous and delightful, and Darcy’s well-bred relations complimented their hostess warmly and sincerely.

Elizabeth’s first impression of her future family was good. They welcomed her warmly and extended an invitation to dine once they were all in London.

Throughout all this, Elizabeth’s mother maintained her vow never to speak to her daughter again almost completely. She did not seek her daughter’s preferences in her planning, and Elizabeth thought it just as well since this was not to be the wedding of her dreams.

She went to bed the night before her wedding feeling unaccountably nervous. Praying she would soon fall into a peaceful sleep, she laid down and closed her eyes. Let this be over quickly, she prayed. She repeated the words in her mind until she finally drifted to sleep in the early hours of the morning.