Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (127 page)

BOOK: Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice
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“Elizabeth Darcy.”  The crowd murmured and drank. 

He sat down and nodded to the reverend, then feeling Elizabeth’s gaze, he looked shyly at her.  “Was that too much?” 

“Yes.”  She sniffed and laughed all at once. 

“Blame the punch.”

“You have not had any, Will.  You are as sober as I.”  She touched his face and then pressed her fingers to her eyes.  “My goodness.”

Lord Matlock leaned forward from down the table, “That was well done, Darcy.  Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you, sir.  I feel that he and Mother have been in attendance tonight.”  He watched Elizabeth searching helplessly for a handkerchief and handed her his with a smile before she resorted to using her glove.  “I recently read an account of Father welcoming Mother to the estate when they had married in the journal of memories the family maintains in the library, and thought I should emulate him if I was called upon to speak.” 

“You did?  When was this?”  Elizabeth sniffed.

“When you fell asleep there?  I was going to show it to you, but you had curled against my chest and were nodding off before I could open the cover.”  He laughed as she blushed and looked around at their listening family.  “It was very comfortable, and with you by my side, I thought . . . what an excellent idea.” 

“Well that settles it; we will have to hold a ball as soon as we move into Wyndham Hall, so that I might toast its new mistress too!”  Bingley smiled at Jane.  “What do you think, dear?”

Jane’s hand went to her mouth, “As soon as we move in?  Should we not meet the neighbours first?”

“Well, we should be sociable, don’t you think?  What better way to introduce ourselves?” 

Lady Matlock disagreed instantly, “You would be seen as showing off, Mr. Bingley.  You are not mere visitors paying a lease for a holiday; you will be at that estate forever and appearances matter.  Mrs. Bingley, when you take up residence, I will be glad to help you with the task of meeting the neighbourhood properly.”

“Thank you, Lady Matlock.”  She tried to control the surprise in her voice and looked expressively to Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth looked away from Darcy’s gaze and focussed on the countess.  “I hope that you teach, rather than dictate, Aunt Grace.”  The two women held each other’s eyes while the family waited. 

“Of course.”   

“I look forward to hearing your advice, then.  I am certain that I can use it as well.” 

Gladney coughed and returned to the previous subject, “So by Darcy waiting, what is it, ten months for this declaration . . .”

“He is displaying once again his stamp upon every aspect of his marriage.  He is careful; deliberate . . . the farthest thing from impetuous.  He just wanted to be sure the relationship took before making any grand announcements.”  Richard winked at his cousin.  “We will probably be celebrating his son signing the new entailment at one and twenty when Darcy bothers to tell us he was born.”

“Amusing, Cousin.”  Darcy sighed, but chuckled a little.

“Having borne witness to his proposal, I would beg to try another theory.”  Hurst smiled at Darcy.  “You have simply been too busy enjoying your marriage to find the time to announce it.” 

The table erupted in laughter.  “I like that theory the best.”  Darcy squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.  “Please, before the meal becomes any colder, enjoy yourselves.”  He watched as the men began to serve the ladies, and then turned to find his wife sitting with her hand upon her belly and frowning.  Touching it, he asked with concern, “Are you well?  What would you enjoy, dear?”

“The sofa in the quiet library, curled in your arms . . .”  He nodded and she entwined their fingers,  “Will . . . such a public declaration . . . I hardly know what to say, perhaps that is good, sometimes there is nothing more to be said, but . . .Thank you.”

“No . . . thank you.”  His face warm, he sought to find the words he was able to say with too many people listening.  His hand waved and frustrated, he finally let it drop.  “I am not allowed any private moments with you today, so I might as well see you blush in everyone’s company.” 

“What of enjoying the embrace beneath the tree?  We were quite alone, and I did blush,” she whispered and squeezed his thigh.

“I want more.”

She smiled and shook her head, “Which do you want, a ball for dancing or privacy for lovemaking?”

“Both.”  He glanced into her sparkling eyes and reaching forward,  determinedly began filling a plate with the menu he had heard her fussing over for weeks, and placed it before her.  “You need to eat; you need your strength to finish the evening.  Supper at midnight . . .” Elizabeth giggled and his face lit up with the sound.  “What did I say?”

“You said the exact same thing with equal disgust at Netherfield.” 

“How long ago that seems.”  He looked down the table to his two friends.

Elizabeth noticed his attention and imagined where his thoughts had gone. “I have watched Mr. Fox tonight; are you still willing to let him decide for himself?”  Darcy sighed and nodded.  Elizabeth smiled, “I do not think you will have to worry for too long.  It will not take.” 

Straightening, he looked from her to the couple sitting together.  “Why?” 

“Where he might be willing, I do not believe that she will be able to come here and be in your circle without being your wife.  She cannot let go of the fantasy of being Mistress of Pemberley.  She does not love you, but she loves . . . this.”  She nodded to the beautiful room.  “Mr. Fox will hear her gushing and bow out.  He will not want to be compared to you forever.  I believe that experiencing this ball might have been the best lesson of all for her.”

“So all of Aunt Catherine’s hard work was for naught?  Do not tell her!”

“Not at all!  I think that she achieved exactly what she wanted.  Miss Bingley will find someone from the circle where she belongs.”

Darcy smiled, and tightened his embrace of her hand beneath the table.  “What of Cathy?” 

“I think that something just might happen with your friend Mr. Manning.” 

Chuckling and smiling into her eyes, he rubbed his thumb over her wrist, “I will not question your perception.  You read me when we first met, and I certainly was doing my best to remain unreadable then.”

“Well you failed spectacularly, Mr. Darcy.”  Elizabeth assured him.  “And I am so glad that I failed for you, too.”

 

“ARE YOU CERTAIN?”  Georgiana peeked into the ballroom.  The guests had begun departing not long after the sumptuous supper.  The card rooms were empty and with the clocks chiming half past two, the remaining friends and neighbours all gathered for a few last dances.  She looked down at her gown and up to her brother’s weary, but smiling face.  “I will stand out, I am not dressed . . .”

“You look beautiful, dear.  You look far fresher than anyone else in the room, I assure you.”  He held out his hand, “Come.  Although this is a new day, we are still celebrating a treasured anniversary.” 

Nervously, she followed behind him.  Many gentlemen watched her movement with interest and she clung tightly to Darcy’s grasp.  The four musicians were playing, and the easy boulanger was being danced by all.  “Maybe I should go back upstairs?”

Her brother just raised one brow and brought her to the circle.  Elizabeth gave her a welcoming bleary-eyed smile and letting Samuel’s hand go, she took Darcy’s, and Georgiana took her cousin’s. 

Samuel smiled at her.  “It is easy, just follow along.”

“I am afraid of making a mistake.” 

“That is impossible, everyone is drunk.”  He laughed.  They moved through the simple pattern, and Georgiana watched, remembering her dance master at school drilling them on the technique.  When her turn came to take a gentleman’s hand, she smiled bravely and did not trip, too much.  She returned to her place by Samuel and he smiled his encouragement.  Darcy looked at her proudly and all around the circle she saw her family supporting her. 

“Who is that girl?”  One man asked of Harding.  He and Susan were standing to the side, watching the spinning circles of tired dancers. 

“That is Miss Georgiana Darcy, my niece.  You must not be from the neighbourhood?”

“I do not attend All Saints; I go to the church in Lambton.  I saw her there this morning when I was helping my mother with her shopping and wondered who she was.”

“Oh yes, she rode in with my son.”

“Yes, Mr. Samuel Darcy.   I know him by sight, but she was speaking to another man in the dressmaker’s shop.  A tall man.”  Shrugging he smiled, “She is lovely.”

“She is not out.”  Harding said tersely.  “This is just a gift from her brother to dance at the end.” 

“Of course, it is very kind of him.  I know how young girls are all too anxious to grow up.”  The neighbour stepped away and Harding joined his wife where she stood clapping along to the music.  “Did Samuel say why he was upset this morning?  Did he say anything about Georgiana speaking to a man in Lambton?” 

Susan glanced at him and sighed.  “No, he did not, why?”

“No matter.”  He drew a breath and taking his wife’s hand, placed it on his arm.  “Did you know that she came home today?”

“Yes, dear, I was here to welcome her.”  Susan watched him watching Georgiana.  “What is on your mind?”

“I am so sorry for what she suffered.  For what everyone has suffered.”

“She has accepted her mistakes, Harding.  It was not your doing.”

He spoke softly and seriously.  “Yes, it was.” 

Exasperated, Susan chastised him.  “You are no more to blame than Fitzwilliam.  Mr. Wickham wooed her and she did nothing to stop him, and that is the end of it.” 

Harding looked to her.  “No it is not, we have Hope.” 

Susan nodded to the circle of family dancing together, “And so has she.” 

 

“EVANS.  PLEASE RETIRE.”  Darcy directed the exhausted man as the last of the carriages disappeared from the drive and the front door was finally closed.  “The house does not have to be put to rights tonight . . . this morning.  I seriously doubt that you will see anyone rising before noon.  Go on.” 

“I want to be sure that all of the candles are extinguished, sir.  I will not rest until I am certain.” 

Darcy closed his eyes and nodded.  “Go on, then.” 

“Thank you, Evans.  You and the staff were invaluable and extraordinary.”  Elizabeth whispered from her place within Darcy’s arms.

“As were you, madam.”  He bowed stiffly, more from arthritis than formality, and slowly shuffled off with a candle snuff in his hand. 

Darcy kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head.  “Perhaps we should dole out some willow elixir with the bonuses.  I imagine everyone will be moving stiffly when they rise.”  He looked to her smiling eyes.  “Are you sleepy?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”  She yawned and laughed through it when she covered her mouth.  “I always dance until dawn!”

“How could I forget?”  He rubbed her shoulders and took her by the hand.  “Come with me.” 

“Where are we going?  If it is swimming, I will have to protest.”  She leaned against his shoulder and his arm hugged her to him as they walked slowly through the blissfully silent house to the empty ballroom.  Above them a few stubborn candles still burned, their feeble light reflected in the wax-encrusted crystal prisms of the chandeliers.  The moonlight spilled over the floor, filling the room with its ethereal glow.  Darcy led her to the middle of the room and then took both of her hands in his. 

“It seems so much larger now that everyone is gone.” 

“You have just made the observation I was hoping you would.”  Elizabeth looked up to him.  Darcy smiled.  “We are alone, and dressed for a ball..  Both of my dreams fulfilled.”  Letting go, he stepped back and bowed to her.  “Mrs. Darcy?  May I please have this dance?” 

“Will . . .” She pressed her hand to her heart.  “Yes, of course.”  Darcy slipped one arm around her waist and then holding her hand, he swayed, turning her and gliding, slowly teaching her the strange, exhilarating steps to something entirely new.  As he pressed her closer, Elizabeth rested her head upon his shoulder while they turned again and again.  And in the quiet of the room, safe in the arms of this man she loved so dearly, she again felt the strange fluttering in her belly.  Her voice caught with emotion, she whispered, “Is this real?”

“A real dance?”  He spoke against her ear.  “Yes, my love.”

“No.  Is this real?  Am I truly in your arms?  This has not been some incredible dream and I am not going to wake up in the morning at Longbourn . . . lost in thoughts of the man I watched at the Assembly and knew I would never be permitted to love?” 

“Lizzy.”  Darcy stopped moving and letting go of her waist, held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes.  She reached up to touch his cheek.  “I . . .” He fought to find how to say the words that filled his heart, but they simply did not come this time.  Enfolding her into his arms, he kissed her tenderly, putting all of his love into his caress.  He drew away and read her beautiful eyes.  Everything of her was in her eyes, and always would be.

Breathing unsteadily he felt her take his hand and place it over the swell of her belly, and he knew.  Suddenly he could not see her any more as he blinked and clasped her tightly to his chest.  “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.  It is real.  Trust me.” 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

28 March 1813

 

“O Almighty
God, we give thee humble thanks for that thou hast vouchsafed to deliver this woman thy servant from the great pain and peril of Childbirth: Grant, we beseech thee, most merciful Father, that she, through thy help, may both faithfully live, and walk according to thy will, in this life present; and also may be partaker of everlasting glory in the life to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen
.”

Darcy’s heart was pounding.  He was filled with pride and gratitude, and incredible overflowing love for this woman who knelt alone before the altar of his ancestors with their child in her arms.  Her face was obscured by the lace veil that covered her head.  In her hand, she clutched the cloth their son had worn at his christening four weeks earlier, the day of his birth, the most terrifying and joyous day of Darcy’s life.  Swallowing down the emotion that clutched at him, his protective gaze moved to the minister as he took up William Bennet Darcy and walked around the church, reciting his blessings, presenting the baby to the congregation, passing behind the altar, until at last returning to Elizabeth and carefully placing the baby into the arms where he belonged.  Only then did Darcy feel his tension end.

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