Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I have been gone from Pemberley too long already; we will go home. We can take a trip once I have satisfied myself that all is well on the estate. She would like to see Bath; perhaps we will go there.”
“You will throw this poor girl to the wolves before she has had an opportunity to become a wife? This is not sound, Darcy,” his aunt scolded him.
“The wolves? I hardly think Pemberley and its inhabitants qualify as such!” Mr. Darcy was indignant.
“Do you not, knowing your mother’s disapproval of the union? This is a mistake,” she insisted.
The argument continued until it was time for Mr. Darcy to return to his home.
Chapter Thirty-One
May 1812
Four days later, marriage articles and jewelry in his saddlebags, Mr. Darcy returned to Netherfield. As his stallion bore him the thirty miles to his destination, he was, he realised, happier than he had ever been in his life! Was it the warmth of the sun that bestowed such a blissful mood? Or the cerulean colour of the cloudless sky? The caress of the wind through his hair?
No, it was none of those things, though it seemed more than appropriate that the whole world take part in his joy! It was the knowledge that Elizabeth awaited him! He had thought about her, night and day, and was counting the days – nay, the hours! – until she was truly his.
At the entrance to Netherfield, he tossed his horse’s reins to the stable boy. “Take good care of him,” he advised the lad, handing him a shilling and then removing his valuables from the saddlebags.
“Thankee, milord!” the boy called out, clutching the coin.
He needed to remember to give vails to all the Netherfield servants; he had quite forgotten to do so last week, but did he not have a good reason for his forgetfulness? Elizabeth!
Hughes opened the front door, saying, “The Master and the Mistress are in the drawing room, Mr. Darcy.”
The Bingleys rose to greet him; it was all he could do not to embrace them both, so great was his joy at now being a mere three miles from Longbourn.
“All is well, I trust, Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bingley asked.
“William,” he reminded her. “Yes, all is very well indeed. The marriage articles are ready for Mr. Bennet’s perusal and signature.”
“May I offer you refreshments, Mr. Darcy?”
He hesitated. “Would you think me dreadfully ill-bred if I said I would prefer to wash, change and make my way immediately to Longbourn?”
She laughed, musically. “No, I would think you a man in love. Go, then; we will not expect you back until after dinner!”
Mr. Darcy ran upstairs to his room, greeted Evans cheerfully, and was soon washed and properly dressed to call upon his betrothed.
***
At Longbourn, the four Bennet daughters were in the parlour; Mary was reading, Kitty and Lydia were engaged in trimming a hat that Jane had left behind, and Elizabeth was staring out the window.
“Lizzy, stop it!” her mother scolded her. “There is a full basket of mending for the Donaldsons at your feet; they will not thank you for spending your entire day watching for Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You are right, Mama,” and she bent her attention to the mending. Mrs. Donaldson was able to sew well enough, but with a new baby to tend, she had been grateful for Elizabeth’s offer of assistance.
But no sooner had she completed the stitching of a torn sleeve on Mr. Donaldson’s flannel shirt, than Mrs. Hill came in to tell them that Mr. Darcy had just arrived. Elizabeth leapt to her feet, only to be corrected by her mother. “Sitdown, Lizzy! So much enthusiasm is hardly appropriate.”
It seemed to Elizabeth that enthusiasm for one’s marriage partner was very appropriate, but it was not worth arguing over. Mr. Darcy appeared in the doorway; all five Bennet ladies curtsied politely – even the two youngest – and Mrs. Bennet offered him refreshments.
He replied courteously that he would indeed appreciate refreshments, but his eyes were glued to Elizabeth as he spoke. She smiled at him! Yes, she smiled and then looked away, blushing, but her eyes immediately returned to his. She had missed him, as he had her; she had thought of him, as he had her. All was well.
He was able, only then, to relax in his chair and accept a cup of tea from his beloved’s hands, prepared just as he liked it.
“I trust everyone at Longbourn is well?” he asked.
“Oh, very well, indeed,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “Cook’s assistant had a bit of a sniffle and we feared she had a cold, but it turned out to be nothing at all.”
