Pride, Prejudice & Secrets (25 page)

Oh, well, I would wager she is destined to be a bit disappointed,
Darcy thought regretfully.
Perhaps this was not really a good idea after all. Richard may look outwardly as if his character is not at all like mine, but that would be an error — we are more alike than most would assume. He values intelligent conversation and an agreeable disposition as much as I — neither of which Caroline Bingley displays.

But, though Darcy was now ready to abandon his experiment, his companion noticed something he missed.

I know what William tried to do, but just putting two people in proximity is seldom going to have the result as it did with Jane and the captain,
she thought, contemplating the two people at the end of the table.
What William is overlooking is Richard’s assessment of her when he sat down. That was a look of admiration — admiration for her handsome features, for her figure, for her womanly appearance. A woman understands that look where William probably does not, and I am certain Caroline recognized it also. But she appears to have little idea of how to truly inspire an interest in a man such as the Colonel. I think it will require something momentous to bring those two together — not a mischance, actually, as in my case, but perhaps a plan by outside agents.

She hid her smile as she completed her thought:
I shall speak with William after the meal. That will, of course, necessitate my staying through the evening meal!

In reality, Elizabeth had desired to spend the whole day at Netherfield, but now her conscience was clear…or almost so at any rate.

Thus it was, after a long, private conversation with Elizabeth, that Darcy manoeuvred his aunt and uncle and their son into Bingley’s study and closed the door.

“Now, before we start, would anyone care for a small libation?” Darcy asked.

“Start what, Darce?” asked Richard cheerfully, but Darcy ignored him and turned to his aunt.

“There is some passable sherry here, Aunt. Perhaps a glass while we consider matters of monumental importance?”

“Are you growing a sense of humour, Darcy?” asked his aunt suspiciously. “Looked at in a certain way, you are displaying definite similarities to your bride rather than to the overly serious nephew to whom we are accustomed. And, yes, I would love a glass of sherry.”

“I shall take another glass of that excellent brandy,” his uncle said.

“And I,” Richard said.

“You get port, Cousin, as do I, for you are the subject of this conversation, and the two of us need to keep a clear head.” Darcy poured glasses and passed them out.

Richard looked at Darcy sharply as he accepted his glass, but he said nothing as Darcy seated himself.

“Now, to begin, I wish to speak of my beloved cousin, the good Colonel. Being about to join the matrimonial state and considering its many advantages, I wish to offer the suggestion that it is past time he takes a wife and settles down.”

Lady Matlock glanced aside at her son and smiled with amusement at the look of discomfort now apparent on his face as he comprehended Darcy’s intent.

“I must agree with you, Darcy,” Lord Matlock said. “The boy has been too long with his regiment and needs a feminine touch to prepare him for gentle society. In fact, having seen the marvellous results so recently exhibited by his older brother, Jessica and I have given some thought to finding a suitable match for him.”

“Someone with at least a modicum of fortune, of course,” Darcy said.

“Darce, have a heart!” Richard said with a groan. “If you encourage Mother in this, I shan’t hear the end of it!”

“Of course, he has waited so long that many of the most suitable young ladies of my acquaintance have already married.” Lady Matlock affected an expression of doleful resignation. “I have been at my wits end thinking how best to go about this task.”

“There is always the upcoming Season,” Darcy said, manfully suppressing his smile.

“Darce!” Richard said desperately.

“A thought,” Lord Matlock said. “A definite thought. After all, being an earl’s son has advantages even if he is a penniless younger son. Now, his brother George has accumulated a tidy fortune in prize money, so he did not present the same challenge as Richard.”

“I am
not
penniless!” Richard protested. “I have some thousands invested in the Funds!”

“How many thousands?” queried Darcy, his expression one of complete innocence.

“Well…some thousands. A little more than five,” admitted Richard.

“We should have made the lad enter the Navy,” Lord Matlock said. “But he held out for the cavalry and would not follow my advice. There’s simply no money to be made in the Army.”

“The boy does get seasick, you know,” his mother said. “Remember when we visited George’s ship at Plymouth? Richard was deathly ill, and George said the day was uncommonly calm.”

“Mother, please!” objected Richard.

“Do not distress yourself, son,” Lady Matlock said with a comforting smile. “We are only having a little fun at your expense.”

“Just a repayment of the times you scared your mother and me out of more years of our life than we can spare,” his father said roughly, giving Richard a solid clap on the back. “You really must learn to duck, son.”

Richard shrugged uncomfortably, knowing his father was referring to the wound he took at Bussaco two years previously. He knew he was fortunate he had not bled to death and was even luckier not to lose the leg. Even so, he limped for a year, and the leg still hurt occasionally.

“To return to the subject at hand,” Darcy said quietly, “we were discussing how to solve Richard’s marital lack. And I have a possible solution to offer.”

“It cannot be another Bennet daughter,” Richard said quickly, recovering from his introspection, “for you will marry the last sensible one.”

“True, true, and they would not solve your problem, for they have no fortune,” Darcy said. “But the young lady I have in mind does have a tidy fortune and is also quite handsome. Though I admit she will need…ah, instruction in a number of areas.”

“A challenge, then,” Lord Matlock said, smiling slightly.

“Ah, but not an insurmountable problem to a dashing young officer who boasted on many occasions he never met a horse he could not gentle,” responded Darcy.

“A young lady is not a horse, Darcy!” Richard retorted. “I would not know how to deal with a wife who needs instruction. No, you need to locate a suitable young lady with the disposition and sense of either Miss Bennet or Mrs. Commodore Fitzwilliam to make this work.”

The Colonel looked suspiciously at his cousin’s benign demeanour and said sharply, “Just who are you suggesting if I may ask?”

“It is only a suggestion, Richard, but you have met her: the unattached sister of our host, Miss Caroline Bingley.”

“Darce!” Richard said, sitting up sharply in surprise. “I just met her, and she was just as you described: fawning, inane, and sycophantic! And she never stopped talking!”

“True, but it is not every day that you find handsome young ladies who are both eligible and possess a fortune of twenty thousand pounds.”

Richard was about to continue his argument, but Darcy’s statement stunned him. Twenty thousand pounds was indeed a prodigious fortune…but she was so…so…

“And she is very handsome, Richard,” Lady Matlock said. “More handsome than many young ladies who at least drew your interest.”

“But I did not actually pursue any of those ladies, Mother. And I really have no desire for my wife and me to be so distant that we live our lives in different spheres as so often happens.”

“Darcy is making a suggestion, which you might give some consideration, son,” his father said. “I noticed nothing untoward about the young lady other than her excessive civility and deference.”

“You might also remember, Richard, that wives promise to love, cherish, and obey, while husbands promise to love and cherish,” Lady Matlock said quietly. “Those promises are sometimes abused by unworthy husbands, but that does not change our vows. Your father does not often command me, but on those occasions, I know I have no choice but to obey his orders. You might have to exert yourself to break her bad habits, but it could be done.”

“It is only a suggestion,” Darcy said mildly. “I saw that you did not get on at luncheon, so I wanted you to give the matter some thought rather than dismissing it out of hand”

Richard looked quite unconvinced, looking carefully at each of the others before finally saying, “I am not sure about this matter, so all I will say is that I will think on it. That is as far as I will go.”

“It is farther than you have gone before, lad,” his father said cheerfully, ignoring the look from his wife. “I believe your mother and I may as well start planning the wedding breakfast!”

Not if I can get back to the Peninsula and the French first,
Richard thought sourly. But his vow was somewhat disturbed by his memory of Caroline Bingley’s graceful walk when she was not trying to put on airs.

Definitely a comely lady,
he thought idly.
I wonder whether she could be gentled to the marriage bed…

Chapter
16

“There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.”

— Søren Kierkegaard, Danish philosopher and theologian

Saturday, May 2, 1812: Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Thomas Bennet told himself he would not shed a single tear as he stepped inside the Longbourn chapel with his favourite daughter on his arm. He had delegated the shedding of tears to his wife, who was equipped with three handkerchiefs as well as her salts, for she had declared herself near to swooning before leaving Longbourn. But even if he kept his eyes dry, the thought of today being the last day Elizabeth would call Longbourn home was painful.

The memory of Darcy’s invitation to visit “any time you please” and stay “as long as you like” was dear to him, and he tried to vow he would not abuse the privilege and only visit occasionally with tolerable intervals between visits. He was much afraid, however, that he was engaged in pretence since he was not sure he could stay away. He already knew he was going to miss his Lizzy dreadfully.

And despite my apprehension, she is dressed most elegantly for the occasion,
he thought as they walked toward the small gathering of family, a few friends, and several curious neighbours.
Though both Lizzy and I tried to restrain my wife’s fixation on wedding clothes, at least Mrs. Bennet ensured that the best dresses were prepared first, so Lizzy could wear one today.

The dress in question was of fine white muslin, a colour he still found uncommon, though both his wife and sister Gardiner assured all that white was becoming increasingly fashionable for weddings. Over Elizabeth’s shoulders was a fine, silk shawl with delicately embroidered roses, a gift from Lady Matlock, and fresh flowers decorated her hair and her new bonnet. Her gown had long sleeves, and though all the other ladies wore gloves, she did not, for Darcy would be slipping a ring on her finger at the culmination of the ceremony.

When Mr. Bennet married, his bride was dressed much more practically in a gown of dark brown and a simple, everyday bonnet.
But times change
, he lamented.
I suppose allowances have to be made for both Darcy’s fortune and the honour of having a peer of the realm, his lady, and two of his sons in attendance. That singular happening is likely the reason for the half-dozen curious observers!

Those eminent personages stood with the group around Reverend Thompson. Darcy’s friend Bingley and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam stood beside the groom while Charlotte and Georgiana waited to attend Lizzy, both wearing smiles of complete happiness.

Mr. Bennet was less happy when he saw his two youngest daughters behind his wife. Their complaints had been vocal and open when informed they would not stand up with their sister, but, having witnessed the salutary effect of exerting himself to quell his wife’s complaints, he was equally pleased when that approach produced equivalent results with these two silly girls.

I should have been that forceful earlier and more often,
he thought regretfully,
but I might as well be honest and admit I am afflicted with an incurable case of laziness of the will.

He had no more time for introspection, for he and Elizabeth had reached the waiting group, and he stopped with his daughter on Darcy’s left so both bride and groom faced Reverend Thompson. That worthy personage, beaming broadly, glanced about and lifted his prayer book, reading the sacred words inscribed in the hearts of most of those present:

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in Holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate instituted of God…”

Elizabeth Bennet let the familiar, yet somehow completely new and never-before-comprehended words flow around her and enter her very soul, knowing this moment could never be repeated as long as she lived. She would never again be an innocent about to enter the state of wedlock for the first time.

She was especially grateful that she was going to that state fully willing and not just because she could not bring herself to cry off an unwanted engagement. She had much for which to be grateful, and she looked up admiringly at the tall man beside her who had been the pivotal figure in every part of her transition.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was also in an uplifted state but for not quite the same reasons. He had never doubted this moment would come once he resolved the doubts in his mind, but his gratitude was more basic. Remembering her illness and especially the day he returned to Kent to retrieve her, his heartfelt thankfulness was for Elizabeth’s life. He hoped never again to feel the terror inspired by his aunt’s misguided attempt to eject his betrothed from her parsonage.

However, he firmly put such thoughts aside as the reverend put Elizabeth’s hand in his and led him in saying, “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Darcy looked down at Elizabeth as he responded, “I will,” and she returned his smile of happiness in full measure before it was her turn. She listened to the reverend’s charge to obey, serve, love, honour, and keep her new husband for all of her days and answered quietly but joyfully in her light soprano, “I will.”

It never occurred to Darcy to look for reservations in her words, and in the event, he saw none, for Elizabeth was completely comfortable with her choices. She was nothing if not determined when she made up her mind, and it required clear evidence that her decision was wrong before she would even contemplate reconsidering a decision made — something on the order of learning that Mr. Wickham blatantly and maliciously lied to her. Whether it was a fault or a virtue, she neither knew nor cared. In fact, she would not even think on the topic for an instant. It was simply the way she was, and she was perfectly happy with Fitzwilliam Darcy, faults and strengths, as the ceremony continued.

Darcy responded in his turn and she followed, until finally Richard laid the ring in the prayer book and the reverend handed it to Darcy, who said, “With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

With these words, Darcy slid the ring on Elizabeth’s fourth finger, and it seemed to him that his heart swelled until he could scarcely breathe. Indeed, his reaction was so marked that Elizabeth leaned close and whispered, “Breathe, my love, breathe!”

Her words broke the spell that gripped him, and he managed a rasping breath and a shaky smile before he knelt beside Elizabeth and the reverend began the prayer, finally leading to the words that both of them felt reverberate through them: “For as much as Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam have consented together in Holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God…”

The rest of the ceremony passed, not quite in a dream but without anything more than automatic responses from Elizabeth and Darcy, for their eyes scarcely left each other’s.

Elizabeth did not feel the forceful near-seizure that overtook her husband before he slid the ring on her finger, yet she was conscious that she was a new and different person from that moment forward. She was wife to this most complex man, he was her husband, and she could
feel
him inside her. She knew she could; it was not an illusion. She fancied she could even feel his heart beating, and he hers. Each was part of the other in a way she never anticipated, and she wondered whether she could explain it to another woman. Not Charlotte, she regretfully knew, even though she loved her dearly, nor her mother. But possibly Jane, for she suspected her sister felt much the same when Captain Fitzwilliam slid his ring on her finger.

She cast a surreptitious look at her ring and marvelled at the way it fit her finger perfectly.
How did that come about?
she wondered.
I know there was never a fitting, so how did he know? And it is a ring as appropriate to his fortune as his house, elegant without being ornate. Simple, heavy, high-quality gold. And it is not new; could it possibly be his mother’s? This ring suits me perfectly. Did he know that? Or is it coincidence? If coincidence, a happy one, for which I am grateful.

Eventually, the ceremony was complete, and she and Darcy took Holy Communion together. Then, all ceremonials complete, friends and family crowded about, offering noisy congratulations and embraces. Mrs. Bennet fulfilled her duty to her husband by shedding tears enough for both of them, and she was even forced to resort to her salts when she felt herself near to swooning for happiness at having a second daughter even more advantageously married than her sister. Her Aunt Phillips was effusive in her congratulations, trying her best not to be vulgar and, as usual, coming up short of the mark. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner offered their congratulations in their usual pleasing manner, confirming their intention to stop by Pemberley during their summer trip to the Lakes. Lady Matlock embraced her with all the grace and civility she would have expected from such a grand lady while Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lord Matlock congratulated Darcy enthusiastically.

It is all,
Elizabeth thought in amusement,
so dreadfully normal, both the good and the bad.

But further contemplation had to wait, since people were moving out of the chapel, and suddenly Darcy was at her side, offering his arm, and Reverend Thompson waited by the registry, the last task before they could leave. Darcy signed first, then handed her the pen, and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy signed “Elizabeth Bennet,” a name that actually was no longer hers.

Already, seeing her name on paper, it seemed unreal, as belonging to a time in the distant past. The present was the handsome face with the dark eyes and broad smile, which at one time, she would have flatly denied being possible. But now she gladly gave no further thought to what she left behind with her maiden name in the registry, and she took her husband’s arm and left the church to board the black coach in preparation for setting out on what, from that point forward, would be her genuine life.

“Miss Bingley?”

Caroline Bingley started at the unexpected voice and twisted around to see Colonel Fitzwilliam behind her, regarding her calmly. Her own thoughts were anything but calm, for she had been surreptitiously gazing at Darcy and his new wife with barely concealed remorse mixed with a measure of anger.

“Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” As soon as she spoke, in a tone of icy displeasure, her many years of training at Mrs. Hanover’s Academy for Young Ladies automatically made her wince internally and wish she could unsay her words, but it was far too late.

“I was thinking of getting some fresh air by walking in the Longbourn gardens and wondered whether you might care to accompany me?”

Caroline looked at him, surprised by the invitation. She had hoped to be able to talk again with him after the midday meal, but he had evidently been closeted with his parents or with Darcy, and she had not seen him until she entered the chapel. She had concluded, with some regret, that he had been avoiding her purposefully, but this invitation made it appear she might have been unduly pessimistic.

“Come, come, Miss Bingley, I am only suggesting a walk in the garden not making an offer of marriage,” he said with a smile, his white teeth contrasting starkly with the deep tan of his rugged features. “Surely, that is not too much to ask on a lovely spring morning.”

The clear statement, made in terms of amiable politeness, still reminded her that she was woolgathering, and she hastily recovered her aplomb. “Yes, yes, of course. Let me get my things.”

It was not too many minutes before they left the house and walked to the small garden on the other side of the lawn. Caroline was familiar with the Longbourn gardens and had always thought them completely inconsequential. They seemed even more so today, as she compared them mentally to the gardens at Pemberley where she would never be mistress. The thought, as it had been for the past weeks, was galling in the extreme.

They walked in silence for some moments before Colonel Fitzwilliam opened the conversation. “I would like to tender my apologies for my absence yesterday after our conversation at the table, Miss Bingley.”

“That is quite all right, Colonel. I assumed you must have had affairs that required your attention,” she said automatically, though she really had been somewhat aggrieved at being so cavalierly ignored.

“No, no, it was careless of me to let time slip away as I did, no matter my concerns. I really wished to continue our conversation as well as to learn more of you, which is the reason I sought you this morning.”

Caroline only nodded at this statement, turning her head away to hide her slight smile of triumph. She was not sure she was actually interested in this imposing, if not exactly handsome, soldier, but she was gratified that he appeared more attentive than she had supposed. He was undoubtedly interested in her fortune; most men seemed to be. But he
was
the son of an earl, and if it was not exactly the connection she had anticipated for so long, it was at least a moderately promising prospect.

“I did have a number of things to discuss with my parents and also with Darcy since we share the guardianship of Georgiana.”

“Mr. Darcy has mentioned that previously,” she said with a nod.

“And, since I will be leaving with my regiment at the end of the month, I had many matters to discuss with him and my parents. I fear time got away from me.”

“You are leaving England?” Caroline was surprised and a bit alarmed at such an imminent departure. She had not imagined there being so little time for any social events where they might meet.

“Why, certainly,” Richard said, rather surprised. “For the Peninsula with Wellington. The regiment was sent back some three months back to recruit back to full strength.”

“I…I had no idea, Colonel,” Caroline said uncertainly.

“There is no reason you should,” he said with a shrug. “But enough of unpleasant subjects. Let us discuss your life; it is surely more interesting than my own. I understand your brother is already the head of your family though he is rather young, only twenty-three. That was much like Darcy.”

“Yes,” she said, suddenly downcast by unpleasant memories. “I hardly remember my mother; I was only five when she died in childbirth. Our father’s death in a boating accident was devastating, especially to Charles, who was forced to assume his inheritance when only twenty.”

“Not much different than Darcy, then,” Fitzwilliam said, nodding. “I remember how he struggled with responsibilities he did not expect to shoulder for some years.”

“Mr. Darcy was very helpful during those trying times,” Caroline said, trying to control her voice, because it had been the same time period in which she formed her ill-fated desire to become Mrs. Darcy.

“Darce is very helpful many times, even if his advice is not always pleasant to hear,” Fitzwilliam said, and Caroline wondered at the tone of his voice. “He mentioned that your brother has decided against retaining Netherfield and intends to give up the lease.”

“Yes, it did not work out as he expected,” Caroline said uncomfortably. “He has been staying in his London townhouse all winter.”

“All alone? Or have you been keeping his house?”

“Charles has not entertained much, so I have been living part of the time with him and part of the time with my sister and Mr. Hurst. We had all planned to go to Pemberley with Mr. Darcy for the grouse season in August, but that was before his wedding. I am not sure what we will do now.”

“Do not give up that design, Miss Bingley. August is several months away, and I daresay Darcy will emerge from seclusion before then. The shooting is excellent, though I will have to miss the season yet again. The French have been most inhospitable for some years.”

“I daresay,” Caroline said, hoping her voice was neutral. Her sudden pang was not for the war but was rather inspired by the sudden longing that it could have been her that Mr. Darcy would be taking to his luxurious bedchamber at Pemberley. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more in the world than for a man of worth to look at her with the full-hearted intensity and desire that Mr. Darcy bestowed on his “beloved” Elizabeth.

“It appears you have lived somewhat of a nomad existence these past months. I imagine you are anticipating the heightened social whirl once the Season begins in earnest.”

Richard could not know that this was another source of anxiety to his companion, who lowered her head to conceal her distress. She had participated in two Seasons, but all her most promising prospects seemed to somehow dissipate without any real result. She had decided to forego a third Season, mindful of the oft-repeated canard that three Seasons without a marriage presaged a life of spinsterhood. She was inwardly fearful her third season might be as unproductive as the others and also worried that her beauty and fortune did not offset a father who made his fortune in trade.

Like many who harboured inner doubts about their place in their class-conscious society, Caroline Bingley had overcompensated in her desire to be seen as a member of the class who were born to wealth and position. If it was, for example, deemed proper to look down on those who made their living in trade, then she would do the same, despite her own father having amassed his fortune by exactly such means. Yet no matter how hard she tried to emulate those she yearned to join, she could not avoid her doubts. It had hurt her more than she had let on when she was not presented at court before coming out. That should not have been surprising, given the lack of her family connections, but it had still hurt. She had hoped to rectify that deficiency after marrying Mr. Darcy, since his aunt might then do the honours, but that was another hope thwarted by his surprising marriage.

Now came this most unsettling conversation. If Colonel Fitzwilliam harboured any real interest, could good fortune somehow come her way? Might she one day give her curtsey to the Queen as she so deeply desired?

She suddenly became aware that her introspections had caused her to miss a part of the Colonel’s conversation, and she jerked herself back to the present as he was saying, “…was probably inevitable that my parents’ thoughts would turn in my direction with both my brothers married. I suppose I have been fortunate to this point to be able to carry on my life with a relative minimum of parental interest, but it appears that happy state of affairs has come to an end.”