The newly married couple arrived at Longbourn after the rest of the guests, their carriage having taken a circuitous route. Elizabeth supposed the coachman had been instructed not to look back at them, or else her husband—how delightful it was to call him that—had decided it did not matter, at least on this day.
Upon entering the house, they were greeted by well-wishers from both her family and his. She spent several minutes speaking with Georgiana before turning to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Fitzwilliam told me he had written to you, but as of yesterday, when he left us, he had not heard from you,” Elizabeth said to the gentleman, who was dressed in civilian clothes. She wondered whether her husband had warned him of her youngest sisters’ particular fondness for officers. “I was never so surprised as I was when we signed the register and you handed me the pen.” Elizabeth laughed at herself. “In truth, I scarcely knew who was present, other than Fitzwilliam, and of course, Mr Allen.”
“I thought it best to arrive before I was missed too much,” Colonel Fitzwilliam returned with a grin. “My letters from Darcy are always interesting, but I confess to some shock in reading this particular one. I hurried to Hertfordshire to ensure my cousin had not gone mad.”
Elizabeth laughed, but as her gaze settled on her husband, she perceived that he was not quite so sanguine at his cousin’s lightly mocking words. Softening her tone—but not entirely suppressing her amusement—she said,
“When my uncle first informed me that our journey must be curtailed, and that we should go no farther than Derbyshire this summer, I was quite put out to be denied the trip to the Lakes. I little suspected that Derbyshire itself would prove so… unexpectedly advantageous.”
Letting her attention drift to the colonel, she continued, a teasing note entering her voice once again, “Nor had I any idea that within a few weeks I should be married to the best man I have ever known, and destined to revisit it as the wife of the very best of men. And now—” her expression brightened as she glanced back at her husband—“I am to have the Lakes as well, for he means to take me there on our wedding trip. I find I have lost nothing after all.”
A quiet warmth passed between them as he met her glance, his countenance softened by unmistakable tenderness. She had never seen him so entirely content, and there was a private satisfaction in knowing she had been the cause of it. Her pleasure deepened as she recognised the look, her own happiness reflected in his face.
“And I,” he replied, his eyes fixed upon Elizabeth, and she suspected he was no longer attending in the least to his cousin, “had little expectation that, by riding ahead of my party to consult my steward on a matter of business, I should be afforded the opportunity to speak with Miss Elizabeth Bennet—or that, in doing so, I should prove so fortunate as to persuade her to become my wife.”
It seemed to Elizabeth that he might have kissed her then, as though he had quite forgotten where they were, but the approach of her father obliged him to forbear. She could not deny that the possibility had thrilled her, though she supposed it was just as well that he did not.
“Well, sir, you will take my daughter away from her home this day,” Mr Bennet said to Darcy, extending his hand with a look that retained a trace of his usual sardonic humour. “I suppose I must resign her,although I cannot pretend it is done without some reluctance. Indeed, her leaving seems to herald the departure of most of the rest as well, and before long only Jane will remain at home.”
Fitzwilliam nodded his head in acknowledgement. “You may rely upon me, sir, to make Elizabeth as happy as it is in my power to do. As for the others, I am glad that your resolution regarding Miss Lydia has been maintained, and that Miss Mary and Miss Kitty will have the advantage of proper instruction at their respective destinations. I cannot deny that my sister will benefit greatly from Miss Mary’s presence at Pemberley.”
“Very well, sir,” Mr Bennet said, his gaze moving about the room as he accounted for his daughters, and Elizabeth, following it, realised that all but Lydia were present.
Lydia had complained loudly that morning about the gown she had been required to wear, refusing to put it on, and had been confined to her room as a consequence. Elizabeth had wondered whether she might create a disturbance during the wedding breakfast, but, to her relief, she had remained quiet thus far.
“It seems that you will have your way in this as well. I have had a letter from the school you recommended, and Lydia has been accepted. When your carriage arrives on the morrow, we will begin the journey to Staffordshire. We should arrive by Saturday, and, after spending the Sabbath there, I will return.”
“Good,” Fitzwilliam said, and Elizabeth watched as her father drifted away after a few more words were exchanged.
Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam then made their way about the room, speaking with those in attendance. When her husband drew out his watch and quietly informed her that it was noon, Elizabeth slipped upstairs to change into her travelling gown. Mrs Gardiner joined her to assist, and they had just finished when Jane entered the room.
Jane hesitated a moment, as though uncertain of her welcome, before stepping forward.
“Lizzy,” she said, her hands twisting in front of her, “I hope that one day you will forgive me for foolishly believing anything Caroline Bingley said, and for ever doubting what I knew of you. Truly, I cannot account for it, but I ought not to have done so. I know that you are now married and will soon be gone, and I hope that, one day, you might invite me to Pemberley, and that we may be friends again.”
“Jane, I shall never cease to love you, but I was hurt by your disbelief,” Elizabeth said gently. “Of course you will always be welcome at Pemberley, or any of my new homes, although we shall not return to Pemberley for some weeks yet. Still, let us not dwell on it today. This is a happy day, and I would have you happy for me.”
“I am, Lizzy,” Jane said, drawing her into an embrace. “Be happy. Your husband is a good man, and he appears to love you very much.”
“He does, Jane, and I love him just as dearly,” Elizabeth returned. “I hope that one day you may be as happily married. In a few months—perhaps even next season—you must join me in London, and we shall introduce you to a number of worthy gentlemen who, I promise you, are not encumbered by disagreeable sisters.”
Elizabeth held Jane close for a moment before releasing her. There would be time enough, she hoped, to mend what had been strained between them.
When she descended the stairs once more, Fitzwilliam was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
He offered her his arm without a word, and she accepted it with quiet certainty of the path before her. After a few final words to the Gardiners, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and their sisters, they left the house—and with it, the last remnants of her former life.
Twenty-Four
Wednesday, 12 August 1812 - Rosings Park
As the Darcy carriage quitted Longbourn, its occupants intent upon enjoying the first hours of a union founded upon mutual affection, another was being loaded at Rosings, some fifty miles to the south.
Lady Catherine had been in a state of high indignation since the moment her rector laid the intelligence before her. That he had not conveyed it sooner was, in her estimation, a failure bordering upon negligence, and she had not scrupled to tell him so—at considerable length—despite his repeated assurances that he had only that morning received the information himself. Such excuses, she declared, might satisfy others; they did not satisfy her.
“You should have known that your cousin was capable of drawing him in, and warned both him and myself against her designs,” she informed him at last. “Pray do not attempt to excuse yourself by pleading ignorance. You saw her with him in Hertfordshire, and again here in April—you ought to have understood what was passing under your own roof.”
