A short while later, Darcy found himself joined by his cousin Fitzwilliam, his uncle, and Mr. Phillips. The four gentlemen were the first to embark on their journey to the quaint little village church, where the union of Darcy and Elizabeth was to be solemnised. Darcy sat in the carriage, reflecting on the last few weeks as they listened to the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. They seemed to echo the heartbeat of the occasion.
The church held more guests than Darcy might have expected. News of his wedding had spread from Pemberley to Lambton and Kympton. A smattering of tenants, Pemberley’s servants, and a few more prominent individuals from each village were in attendance.
This fact gave Darcy a little pause, though his awareness of the audience did not last beyond the moment Elizabeth arrived in the doorway of the chapel. Even the uncle escorting her downthe aisle to him was outside his view. From that point on, his entire focus was on Elizabeth.
The ceremony itself passed by in a blur, the weight of the moment rendering them both momentarily lost in the gravity of their commitment. Though they dutifully repeated the required words, the sacred vows exchanged, neither retained much beyond the sensory impressions of the occasion—the warmth of their intertwined hands, the earnest gaze they shared, and the soft murmurs that seemed to hang in the air. There was a silent exchange between the two of them—a mixture of shared joy and a tacit acknowledgement that their lives were forever changed for the better.
After obtaining all the proper signatures in the wedding register, Darcy took Elizabeth by the hand and led her down the aisle. The significance of the moment lingered in the air, a palpable shift in the trajectory of their lives. As they exited the church, a waiting coach stood ready to transport them into the next chapter of their shared journey.
Despite their head start, Elizabeth and Darcy’s carriage was the last to arrive back at Pemberley, thanks to Darcy’s suggestion that the coachman take the long way. As they stepped out, Elizabeth’s cheeks were flushed with the remnants of joy and laughter—and not a few kisses—and her once-pristine hair bore evidence of their occupation. Fitzwilliam, always quick with a teasing remark, couldn’t resist a playful jab. “Ah, the last couple to grace us with their presence! Did you take a scenic detour, Darcy?”
Though Elizabeth glanced mischievously at her husband, her cheeks and his still flamed. “Well, Richard, I have not had many opportunities to see the park yet. William thought I deserved to see a few of the sights.”
Despite the good-natured ribbing, Darcy shot his cousin a mock glare. “Mind your own affairs, Richard,” he said, his tone dry.
Sensing the line between jest and seriousness, Fitzwilliam wisely chose to relent. “Very well, very well. No need to scowl, cousin. You two are the picture of wedded bliss, your tardiness to your own breakfast notwithstanding.”
The couple exchanged a knowing smile, silently grateful for the familial understanding that surrounded them. As they made their way into the house, the banter continued a lively reflection of the joy that had filled their hearts during their detour.
The wedding breakfast lasted about an hour before Darcy stood and proclaimed their need to depart. While the cottage they were to stay in was not far, it would take several hours to reach it, and the sun set earlier in December. If they left now, they would have plenty of time to arrive before it grew dark.
Once again, Fitzwilliam teased them for their haste. Darcy laughed when Lady Matlock swatted her son and told him to leave his cousin alone. “Should you ever deign to marry and give me grandchildren, you might appreciate his haste. I would not want you along when I was celebrating my wedding either. Now, as I believe your cousin has already said to you more than once today, leave off.”
This rebuke was met by a bark of laughter from several of the gentlemen present. The couple took their leave of the party, all of whom intended to remain at Pemberley until the couple returned. It was to be only a short wedding trip, though Darcy had expressed a wish to take Elizabeth on a more extended trip in the spring. But before they could depart, another unexpected visitor arrived.
Chapter Thirty
For the third time since their arrival, a carriage arrived unannounced at Pemberley. This time, the occupants of the house were all gathered outside as the newly married couple prepared for their departure.
Lady Catherine was in a fury. Even before she stepped down from her carriage, Darcy could hear her demanding, “Where is my nephew? I demand to see him at once. Why is he not here waiting to greet me?” She was followed by her daughter, her daughter’s companion, and her fool of a rector. Mrs. Gardiner, seeing how exhausted the young lady appeared, asked to have her shown inside the house, and Lady Eleanor went to speak to the housekeeper and her niece to ensure that all was easily arranged.
Oblivious to this happening around her, the grand lady strode directly toward those gathered in front of another carriage. “Nephew, what is the meaning of this? Why is Miss Elizabeth Bennet here at Pemberley, and why is her hand on your arm? You cannot have married the chit, since you are engaged to my Anne.”
Both Darcy and the earl sighed heavily. “I am not engaged to Anne, Aunt, nor have I ever been. My father refused to sign the marriage contracts between us, and I have told you often enough that I did not intend to marry her. Anne has also told you it is not her wish to be married to me or to ever leave Rosings. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is no more, since she is now Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, and we are just about to set off on our honeymoon.”
“It cannot be. I have heard that Mr. Bennet refused his consent, so you cannot have married the trollop?—”
“Aunt, I suggest you not even attempt to finish that sentence. You will never be welcome at Pemberley again if you insult my wife. We are married. There is nothing you can do about it now, and the rector is well aware of your claims of a cradle betrothal that is backed by nothing but air. You have been told often enough and by enough people that any claim you make is instantly suspect. Desist at once,” Darcy roared.
Lady Catherine appeared so shocked by her nephew’s tone that she could not speak. Unfortunately for all those standing near, it did not last long. Once she spotted her brother, she tried a different tact.
“James Fitzwilliam, you will stand there silently while your nephew speaks to me in such a way? It is disgraceful. The marriage between Darcy and Anne was decided more than two decades ago while they were both children. How can you stand her and allow him to claim he is married to that …” Darcy stepped towards her menacingly, and she trailed off.
“No, Catherine, what is disgraceful is that you insist on peddling the lie that your daughter and our nephew are engaged. It was no one’s wish other than your own. You have always been the onlyone to desire the match, and I am telling you once again, it will never take place.”
“Why not?” Lady Catherine asked, her tone cantankerous. “I am the only surviving parent of my nephew and daughter. My wishes must be obeyed. Surely, the fact that I am the only surviving parent clearly indicates how things ought to be.”
Lady Matlock’s eyes rolled, clearly showing her exasperation. “Catherine, I must say, I have seldom encountered a more preposterous notion. Your survival is not evidence of a grand design orchestrating the union of my niece and nephew, though it seems stubbornness can indeed prolong one’s life. Sir Lewis and Anne succumbed to illnesses, while George Darcy, on the other hand, perished from a broken heart, never fully recovering from Anne’s loss. Your resilience, Catherine, lies in your unwavering desire to maintain control, as it seems you never had a heart to be broken.”
That lady huffed in indignation. “How can you say such a thing, Eleanor? It is my love for my daughter and my nephew that makes me desire their union.”
“Tell me, Catherine, where is the daughter you claim to love? Did you drag her to Pemberley knowing her health was not good? Where is she now? Did you leave her in the carriage, or did you leave her behind somewhere? Why is she not standing here with us if she travelled with you?”
These questions caused Lady Catherine to deflate somewhat. “She asked to be shown to a room,” she lied. “Anne is exhausted from the travel and will need to remain at Pemberley for several months to recover her health. While she is here, we can begin to prepare for the wedding. Since you are also at Pemberley, brother, you can give Anne away and sign the marriage contract.I brought the papers with me, and my parson accompanied me to perform the ceremony. He is prepared to marry the couple as soon as can be arranged.”
Darcy was about to speak again when the earl stepped in front of him and confronted his sister with the simple truth. “You have come on a fool’s errand, Catherine. Darcy, as he already informed you, is married. My wife and I stood as witnesses to the marriage earlier today. I agree that Anne should remain here. If she truly needs time to recover her health, then it is best she not attempt another long journey for some time. We will return to Matlock in a few days, leaving the newlyweds to themselves for a month. You will not be here when they return.”
“I will not leave until I get my way,” Lady Catherine said with a stomp of her foot. “I cannot countenance that you would condone a marriage between our nephew, one of the wealthiest men in England, to a fortune-hunting hoyden. Did you know that she rejected the proposal from my parson, her own cousin and the heir to her father’s estate, only a few months before accepting my nephew’s? She somehow convinced his wife to invite her to Rosings and timed her visit to coincide with Darcy’s. It was there that she worked her wiles on him to ingratiate herself with him. Clearly, she had her eyes on the bigger prize all along.”
