Page 36 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)
SPRINGTIME, 3 YEARS LATER, LONGBOURN
Fitzwilliam and Richard did their best to smooth Bingley’s hair into submission, but their friend was too excited to stand in one place for long enough.
“Will you hold still?” Darcy demanded.
Bingley spun around, rubbing his hands together, his face too small for the grin he wore. “I apologize. I must look a fright, but I simply cannot wait. Is it time yet?”
“Very nearly. Now, let me just fix this,” Richard licked his thumb and went to work. “No more tugging. Cross your arms over your chest if you must, but we cannot allow your bride to think you rode here through a windstorm.”
Bingley did as he was bid, and Elizabeth exchanged a smile with Jane and Georgiana.
The parish fell silent, the doors opened, and Papa walked the bride down the aisle.
Kitty looked resplendent in a cream gown with rose petal pink trim.
Georgiana wrapped her arm around Elizabeth’s and whispered into her ear. “Is she not stunning?”
Kitty was radiant. Judging by the look Bingley gave her, he certainly thought so too. He had become everything Fitzwilliam had taught him to be as the master of Netherfield. As a gentleman, he was the perfect blend of amiability and responsibility to suit Kitty.
A glimmer of gold caught the corner of her vision, and Elizabeth looked over to see the sun shining on John Lucas’ hair. She squeezed Georgiana’s arm and nudged her chin in his direction.
Georgiana stifled a giggle. “No wonder Lydia is behaving so well.”
Elizabeth smiled. Lydia’s determination to be the first to marry had been frustrated with each one of her sisters’ weddings. She would instead be the last Bennet to marry. Lydia liked to say that if she could not have the wealthiest or best connected or most amiable husband of her sisters, she was determined to marry the handsomest. Of course, that was Lydia’s opinion. After three years of marriage, Fitzwilliam still sent Elizabeth’s heart racing and her stomach aflutter.
“I suspected she would had she known he would be here,” Georgiana continued.
A gasp escaped Elizabeth, eliciting a stern look from Mama, who would not have Kitty’s wedding interrupted for the world. Very quietly, Elizabeth said, “This must be your doing! He was supposed to be at a house party in Shropshire.”
Georgiana shrugged, her smirk proving ownership of the change in John Lucas’ plans. Gone was the uncertain, apprehensive girl from three years before, replaced by this scheming minx who would be the toast of the ton this season. “I was not convincing enough, or Edmond and Charlotte would have come.”
“You can hardly blame Charlotte. She cannot travel in her condition.” Mama had presumed for months over Lady Lucas when Jane married Colonel Fitzwilliam, but when Charlotte had traveled to Pemberley for a visit, it had not taken long for her and the last of Lord Matlock’s unmarried sons to come to an agreement. They were very happily settled at Kympton parish, and Elizabeth was delighted to have another friend nearby.
Notably absent was Mr. Collins, who had not appeared at Longbourn since Mary had married her piano tutor. With Kitty soon to be wed, he would have to settle for Lydia or find a wife by other means. Mama no longer worried about being cast out into the hedgerows when she could rotate from one daughter’s household to the next.
As for Miss Bingley, after two seasons with no proposal, she had worn out her welcome in the Hurst household. She now resided in Scarborough with her aunt. Surrounded by cats.
The vows were exchanged. Before her mother could whisk Elizabeth away to the wedding feast, she sneaked away. Fitzwilliam met her outside the church, breathtakingly handsome in his dark blue coat and snow-white cravat.
“I thought you might like some company,” he said with a crooked grin.
Her hand disappeared inside his, and they swung their arms synchronously during the short walk to Longbourn, where a disgruntled guard paced in front of the door of Elizabeth’s old bedchamber.
“He is cross with us,” Fitzwilliam said.
Arthur yowled.
Mrs. Hill creaked up behind them and set a small plate with pieces of chicken on the floor. “Sir Arthur has been vigilant since you left for the wedding. I hope you do not mind me sharing a bit of sugar plum with the baby before her nap. Miss Darcy is still asleep.”
Appeased with his peace offering, Arthur allowed the proud parents entry to the chamber. Dark curls and eyelashes splayed over red apple cheeks. Their daughter was not yet two years old, and she was already stunning. Their downy haired son was wrapped in a bundle of soft blankets. He had the sweetest temperament and the most adorable dimples when he laughed.
Arthur rubbed against Elizabeth’s skirts, wrapping his tail around her legs as he wound around Fitzwilliam, tugging them closer.
“Oh, no, Arthur, we shall have none of that today.” Fitzwilliam twirled Elizabeth into his arms and planting a firm kiss on her lips. “I do not need help.”
Elizabeth hooked her arms over his shoulders. “Arthur seems to think you are remiss in your affections to your wife.”
Another kiss. “Does my wife agree?”
“I always agree with the cat. He is very wise, you know, but let us not wake the children too soon, or we shall never get them abed tonight.”
The look Fitzwilliam gave her made her wish for one of her mother’s fans.
Although their marriage had not been free of troubles, Elizabeth was confident in the constancy of her husband’s love. He was as considerate now as he had been during their courtship. The more Elizabeth learned about Fitzwilliam, the deeper her love for him grew.
One day, her children, her nieces and nephews, would ask how she and Fitzwilliam fell in love. She would tell them. She would relate the story of Uncle Bingley and how a cleverly uncontrived compromise turned into the greatest love match. It was a beautiful story which still continued on.
If Elizabeth could go back in time, she would choose it all over again.
* * *
When love needs a helping hand—or paw—these lovable critters come to Darcy and Elizabeth’s rescue.