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As he watched, Lord Matlock got the uncanny feeling his brother-in-law had been resurrected. “So, you see, Catherine,” the earl finally managed to interpolate. “Darcy is happy and I am sure Anne will be happy with Robert too. We have planned a quiet ceremony for next week, Darcy. You are most welcome to attend.”
“I would be honoured,” replied Darcy civilly, before indicating to Finn that he wished to depart the study.
It was beyond Darcy’s power to stay until the couple departed for their honeymoon near Oxford. When Finn conveyed his master’s best wishes to Richard and Hildie before returning Darcy to his townhouse, the married couple sought him out to thank him for exerting himself to come to their reception. Having drunk their fill of champagne and seeing an excuse to politely escape, Georgie begged Jane to accompany her home with her brother. They duly departed in his wake, armed with cake.
Finally, it came time for the couple to depart to Lord Stanton-Lacy’s country house, which had been loaned to them for a week. Having imbibed a considerable amount of champagne, both were a little louder than their usual jovial demeanours, but still steady on their feet. After much air kissing and handshaking, they managed to make it down the front steps without mishap and into the hired landau, which now had the top closed and the boot laden with their luggage. The earl gave the order to let go of the horses’ heads, and with a final wave the newly married couple were off.
The pair held hands as far as Wembley where Hildie extracted her hand from her husband’s paw, took off her gloves and proceeded to unbutton his. This was all very promising, but when she allowed him to return his hands to the seat and merely laid her hand on top of his, Richard concluded she was feeling a little overheated, which he knew he certainly was. After another milestone passed, Hildie began to stroke the back of his hand.
“You know,” she said conversationally. “I have always wanted to make love in a carriage.”
Richard broke into a wide grin. “Me too!”
Leaning out the window, Richard gave the order to “Put ‘em along”. Then, deftly pulling down the blinds on either side of the carriage, he grabbed his bride. Some heated kissing and skirt rucking followed during which Richard managed to hit Hildie’s head on the side of the carriage as he attempted to lay her back along the seat. His wife took up rather a lot of room.
“Ach!” Hildie complained, rubbing the back of her head. “Wait! I have heard that it works well if the man sits on the seat and the lady straddles him.”
After Richard unbuttoned his fall, this position was tested and found to be quite satisfactory, provided Hildie remembered to bend her head so as to not repeatedly hit it on the leather roof of the carriage. During the next few miles of pure bliss, some loud exclamations apprised the two footmen standing behind the carriage as to the occupation of the couple inside. Grins were exchanged.
“Oh, Lord!” groaned Richard after reaching completion. “I think I could do that all day!”
“An idle boast!” said Hildie, sucking Richard’s right earlobe into her mouth with a sigh.
“I’m not kidding!” said Richard. “Just give me half an hour. One hardly has to exert oneself at all. The carriage does most of the work!”
Twenty minutes later, much to Hildie’s delight, he proved the truth of his words.
Chapter 50: Birds, bees and beasts of the field
To the great happiness of Mr Elliot and Mary, the wedding day of the first Bennet sister to become engaged finally arrived. Mr Collins deigned to travel to Hertfordshire to perform the ceremony for his cousin before his prospective flock. With him travelled a Mr Creevey, a recently ordained clergyman who the new squire had secured for the post of curate of Longbourn, in which capacity he would deliver Mr Collins’ sermons for him until such time as the new rector chose to occupy Longbourn as its lord and master.
Having graduated near the bottom of his class, Mr Creevey’s chances of gainful employment might have been rated unlikely, but he had been among the dean’s first recommendations when Mr Collins had written to request a clergyman who ‘did not consider himself too high’. As Mr Collins had also been amongst the dregs of his class at Oxford, the dean’s task was remarkably simplified.
The service was scheduled for the earliest time of eight so that the bride and groom might begin their journey to their estate in Somerset directly after the wedding breakfast. Jane and Elizabeth had journeyed to Longbourn the day before with the Gardiners. It had been Mr Gardiner’s intention to hire a landaulet for the comfort of his nieces so that they might not have to squeeze into the Gardiner carriage and thus nurse the children. In the end this proved unnecessary when Darcy suggested the Bennet sisters travel with him in his carriage, so that he might finally respond in person to Mrs Bennet’s letter and acquaint her with his connection to Elizabeth. Lizzy could not agree. Not wanting any more swooning on her husband’s part, Elizabeth thought it best that Darcy demonstrate his stamina on shorter journeys before attempting such a long one. She also deemed it likely that her appearance at Longbourn with Mr Darcy might cause her mother to swoon. Lizzy thought it would be best to convey the news of their marriage to Mrs Bennet alone after Mary’s wedding. Instead, it was agreed that Georgiana should accompany Jane and Elizabeth in the Darcy carriage on her brother’s behalf.
In truth, this was not such a sacrifice to family duty, for Georgie was very keen to see Longbourn after Jane’s and Elizabeth’s halcyon descriptions of it. The Bennets deemed themselves very glad of the prospect of her company. But Elizabeth suggested it would be best if Darcy’s sister was initially introduced merely as their friend Miss Georgiana until after Mr Collins’ departure, to minimise any embarrassing behaviour on either his or Mrs Bennet’s part.
The day of their journey to Hertfordshire was a bleak one—cold and windy—so that it occurred to Mrs Gardiner that their crowding into a single carriage might not have been such a trial after all. Jane and Elizabeth set off early to Mayfair so the Gardiner carriage could return to Cheapside. The Bennet sisters breakfasted at the Darcy townhouse before climbing into the Darcy carriage to meet the Gardiners in Camden, from where the two carriages would travel together to Longbourn.
In the Darcy carriage, the ladies hardly noticed the frigid weather with hot bricks at their feet, fur rugs across their laps and a friendly conversation to occupy their minds. Darcy had bid them farewell with false cheer, asking them to save a piece of wedding cake for him. While Darcy acknowledged his wife’s opinion of his stamina to be sensible, privately he could only wonder with a touch of despair how he might manage the journey to Pemberley in the fast-approaching spring if he could not attempt Hertfordshire.
When both parties arrived at Longbourn, their hands were chilled. Lizzy knew they would soon be warming them around cups of tea or hot milk in the parlour, but first they had to run the gauntlet of their mother. Having shrewdly appraised the quality of the coach in which her eldest daughters had arrived, Mrs Bennet greeted their unexpected visitor with gracious civility, casting a quizzical look at Lizzy and Jane. Before she could make any impertinent enquiries, her brother kissed her, whispering, “I’ll tell you later,” into her ear.
The modern light in the vestibule, recently installed by the firm of Henry Nobley, was soon the topic of conversation. While Lizzy deemed it tasteful, she could only roll her eyes at her mother’s inability to live within her means. Later, Mary enlightened her on Lydia’s escapade—which secret had emerged as a result of a tiff between the two youngest Bennet sisters—and the fortuitous arrival of the travelling salesman. Lizzy’s indignation was promptly transferred to Lydia.
Georgiana was all smiles. Longbourn defied her expectations, being neither Pemberley nor the glorified cottage she sometimes pictured when the Bennets described their former happy rural existence, but something in-between. Georgie discovered Longbourn to be a respectable house only lately fallen on hard times as the price of corn fell. The interior was decorated with taste and flair but showed the years of the family’s occupation since the newly married Mrs Bennet had put her stamp on it. To Georgie it was bliss, being full of the energy and company that her existence had lacked until recently.
Having arrived in the early afternoon, the visitors were at liberty to help with the last minute preparations for the wedding. Hill had everything in the kitchens well in hand, having been aided in her efforts by Mary and Charlotte, both of whom had helped with less dirty jobs in the kitchen behind Mrs Bennet’s back. Knowing she would soon be in charge of her own household, Mary had spent the few months of her engagement learning what she could from Mrs Hill, and in this she was greatly aided by Charlotte, who had, from an early age, learned the more practical aspects of managing a household from Lady Lucas. Mrs Gardiner joined her sisters-in-law in the parlour, where Mrs Bennet enumerated all her preparations in exhaustive detail, from her ordering a goose to be killed to her first trip to Meryton since Mr Bennet’s passing to order cheese and champagne. Jane and Georgie had gone off to view Mary’s dress and discuss how they might arrange her hair. This activity was punctuated by a loud argument between Kitty and Lydia from the next bedchamber about who should wear the new blue silk slippers to the wedding. Lizzy had retreated to the study with Charlotte to talk of estate matters with Harry.
Thus, everyone appeared to be in their proper places when Mr Collins arrived from Kent towards the evening. After dropping Mr Creevey and his carpetbag at the rectory where he was to be instructed in his duties by the departing curate and stay with Mr Elliot overnight, the new squire was driven to Longbourn where Mr Gardiner greeted him for the first time since Mr Bennet’s funeral. Mr Collins could not like the lack of fanfare with which he was welcomed at his new manor, but grudgingly accepted Mr Gardiner’s explanation that the ladies were wholly given over to the wedding preparations. Although Mr Collins was occupying the master’s chambers for the first time since Mr Bennet’s funeral, they were mercifully spared his presence at dinner on the first night of his visit. Sir William Lucas had invited him to dine at Lucas Lodge. Charlotte had gone off with Mr Collins in his hired Tilbury, after a whispered promise to catch up properly with Lizzy on the morrow.
The dinner at Longbourn was a pleasant one, with all the family back together once more and the pain of Mr Bennet’s passing no longer raw. When Mr Elliot absentmindedly took his accustomed place at the head of the table, he blushed and begged Mr Gardiner’s forgiveness. Mr Gardiner set him at his ease, saying he would gladly relinquish the burden of carving. He sat down on the other side of his wife, making up a foursome with Mary near the head of the table. Jane drew Lizzy and Georgie beside her to the bottom of the table next to their mother, a situation Elizabeth could not like since she knew any intelligent conversation would belong to the opposite end of the board. Nor did she wish to expose Georgiana to her mother’s silliness, but the best Lizzy could politely manage was to sit between Georgiana and her mother to shield Miss Darcy from the worst of Mrs Bennet’s excesses. The younger Bennets and Gardiners made up the middle of the table. Mr Creevey, whom Mrs Bennet had graciously invited to dinner so Mr Elliot might not feel obliged to keep him company at the rectory, had declined the offer, saying he wished to practise his first sermon for Sunday. He proposed instead to take Hannah’s soup—large meals made him bilious.
In accordance with the occasion, Mrs Bennet had done her household justice, although it had stretched Mrs Hill to her limit, catering as she was to the wedding breakfast the next day. Roast pheasant and a dressed lobster formed the centrepieces, much to Georgiana’s surprise, with a battery of vegetable dishes and a turtle soup filling the gaps.
When the ladies withdrew after dinner, Jane presented Mary with two packages. The first of these was the beautifully embroidered veil. Although it could not rival the magnificent production of Princess Brunhilda’s modiste, it more than fulfilled Mary’s dreams, and was exclaimed at by all those present. When it was carefully placed on her head in front of the drawing room mirror, Mary was particularly gratified by Timmy’s compliment. The youngest Gardiner declared her the most beautifulest lady ever, before being lectured by Mrs Bennet on double superlatives. Jane suggested that Mary open the second package later, as it was more practical in nature. After Nurse packed the children off to bed, the ladies took their tea, following which Mrs Bennet whispered to Mrs Gardiner and they took Mary aside to instruct her in her marital duties.
The gentlemen spent rather a long time over their wine. Eventually giving up on them, Elizabeth and Jane conducted Georgie to their own bedchamber, which they were sharing for the night. This crowded arrangement was necessitated by the dilapidated state of the west wing, which contained more rooms than those occupied by the Gardiners, but none in a habitable state. Mrs Bennet’s interest in interior decorating had waned after Jane was born, the excess of her pin money increasingly diverted to pretty dresses for her daughters. The mistress of Longbourn had accordingly accommodated Georgiana in the elder Bennets’ room by adding a campaign bed, which Jane stoically occupied, relinquishing her place in the four-poster with Lizzy to Georgiana.
