Page 66 of Resilience

“Oh dear.” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears at the last moment. “Am I?”

“You are,” Priscilla insisted. “The two of you have been ready for weeks.”

“We have.” Elizabeth giggled. “Georgie, you will think I am a goose.”

“I am certain that I will cry a bit, when it is my turn,” her new sister reassured her. “Come everyone, let us tell everyone to be ready when she comes down.”

The ladies filed out, Elizabeth’s Aunt Gardiner smiling and clasping Elizabeth’s hand tightly for just one more moment before she followed the others.

Two hours later, Elizabeth escaped the well meaning Miss Poole and the Misses Tomkins, introduced Lady Catherine to Miss Jenks and Miss Matilda, who were all getting along famously, and she was now searching for her husband in the halls leading to Pemberley’s library.

She found him as she was pulled into an alcove. “I feared you had been stolen by well-meaning neighbours.” Darcy whispered as he pulled her out of sight.

“Not yet, but I have seen Mrs James and Mrs Forest forming their plans,” she teased. “The wedding breakfast has reached that peculiar moment by which each guest has either eaten or drank too much, toasted too often or too liberally, and appears intent upon committing at least one more well-meant interruption of what ought to be their departure.”

Darcy saw from her eyes that she was tired. “If you would permit it, Mrs Darcy, I would like to commit my first impropriety as your husband.”

“I am offended that it took you so long, Mr Darcy,” she replied in mock annoyance. “You have admirable restraint.”

“Come away with me,” he persuaded her. “Only for a moment.”

“I am quite certain it will be longer than a moment,” Elizabeth giggled.

“Five minutes. Six, perhaps, if you prove appropriately agreeable,” Darcy promised wickedly.

“Where are you two going?” Lady Catherine emerged from around a corner.

“Oh no. You are ruined,” Darcy said to Elizabeth seriously.

“Well, I suppose you must marry me,” Elizabeth said in return.

“I was only stealing her away for five minutes, Aunt,” Darcy assured Lady Catherine solemnly.

“Six,” Elizabeth corrected. “I was intending to be very agreeable about it.”

“I am certain you were.” Lady Catherine shook her head. “If you return to the dining room, you will never get away. I will make your farewells to the guests with the help of Lord and Lady Matlock. Your carriage is waiting by the back door, Nephew. I called it for you.”

“You are the best aunt imaginable.” Darcy kissed Lady Catherine’s cheek.

He took Elizabeth’s hand and they laughed as they ran through the halls, ducking into one corridor and then another until they came to a back door, which Darcy threw open to reveal his carriage. He handed his giggling bride inside and boarded after her, then they began their journey to a small hunting lodge on the far end of Pemberley’s borders, where they would stay one week before they left for a month at the Darcy’s cottage in Ramsgate.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tuesday 9 June 1812

Darcy Cottage was unique from the other cottages along the cliff road because of the size of the garden that surrounded it. Otherwise, it was not unlike the others. The whitewashed walls were softened by sea air and covered in climbing roses, the gardens full of colour. The Darcys had been in residence for five days and had still not put up the knocker, nor did they intend to.

Their world had become quite small, and neither found the confinement disagreeable. They rose early despite their nighttime activities, and walked together along the shore each morning at dawn while the seaside village slept. The world belonged to them at that hour, to them and to the few others who sought peaceful exercise and the beauty of nature, though they avoided encountering others. Soon they might begin to go out for short trips during the day, to visit the shops, in particular the dressmaker that Lady Matlock recommended to Elizabeth, to make a beginning on her trousseau.

Sometimes during their walks they spoke of nothing more important than the disposition of the waves, and the shapes left by the retreating foam. Sometimes they spoke of their family and the future with great intensity and seriousness. Once or twice they walked without speaking at all, content to experience their happiness together in shared silence.

They always returned to the cottage laughing and breathless, Elizabeth’s hems six inches deep in sand, Darcy’s hands deft and sure while he pulled her laces loose as he followed her up the stairs, and they disappeared back to Elizabeth’s bedroom for hours.

Their only servants were Darcy’s valet and Elizabeth’s maid, who were perfectly discreet. Neither appeared unless summoned, nor did they linger unless their services were necessary. A local woman arrived each morning to do the washing up, sweep the floors, and leave behind a selection of simple meals that could be easily served without assistance.

Elizabeth was learning that being married was not so much an alteration of one’s life as it was learning how one fit together with their other half. Darcy was shocked to realise how much of his life had been managed alone and how quickly he became accustomed to companionship, particularly in the form of his beguiling wife.

It was their fifth day in Ramsgate that a knock arrived at the door of the small parlour as they took tea together late one afternoon. Elizabeth was pouring as Darcy read aloud, as they had done on more than one occasion since they arrived. Darcy’s valet entered with a single envelope upon a silver tray.