Page 26 of An Offer of Marriage (Engaged to Mr Darcy #7)

THE UNHAPPY brIDE

E lizabeth and Jane returned to Longbourn in the first week of May.

Elizabeth had seen Darcy only once in the week intervening, at a ball.

They had danced once, during which Darcy had told her about her father signing the marriage articles and she had smiled for all the world like a happy bride.

Then he had quickly escorted her to Lady Matlock who occupied the remainder of the evening introducing Elizabeth to her circle of friends, after which she was taken back to Gracechurch Street.

There had been several more days of shopping, time spent with her aunt and uncle and the children—in short, she had kept herself busy.

The busyness did not end at home, to be sure.

Her mother set upon her with ferocity almost as soon as she walked into Longbourn’s door.

Plans which had all been discussed by letter were re-discussed as new, and every moment that Elizabeth had spent with the countess required repeated rehearsal.

When plans were not being made, bridal visits were in order, and Elizabeth was dragged to nearly every house within ten miles to proclaim her triumph.

She had secured a wealthy husband; evidently that fact alone was meant to provide as much happiness as she needed.

Jane knew why her sister’s excitement was muted, but no one else at Longbourn did; or if they suspected irregularities in the matter, they all ignored them in favour of revelry.

There was one positive announcement that Elizabeth appreciated—a trip to Brighton, which Lydia had begged for, had been denied.

Evidently Darcy had spoken to her father about the dangers of such a scheme and her father believed him in a way he never would have believed her.

She was grateful to Darcy for doing that much.

Mr Bingley obliged them all by appearing at Netherfield several days before the wedding. He had no news of his friend, save to say that he had dined with him at their club several days before. If he knew more than that, he was silent on the matter.

A few days prior to her wedding, Elizabeth observed that Jane appeared happier than usual. Very happy in fact and very absent-minded, dreamily running a brush through the same section of her hair for nearly a quarter of an hour.

“I daresay your hair is brushed enough,” Elizabeth said at length.

“What?” Jane startled as if she had not even realised Elizabeth was in the room. Then she smiled and laid down the brush. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Elizabeth studied her as Jane rose and went to retrieve her nightgown from the chest of drawers. “You seem to be in a good humour.”

“I am happy for you,” Jane said quickly. “I do think all will be well, Lizzy, truly. ”

“I can only hope.” Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on Jane who blushed and said,

“Pray do not look at me so.”

“Have you something to tell me?” Elizabeth asked with mocking sternness.

Jane only waved her hand.

“Jane, has Mr Bingley…?”

“Has Mr Bingley what?” Jane asked, but she could not maintain her nonchalance. A beaming smile broke out over her face; she struggled to contain it but could not.

“What are you not saying?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Nothing,” Jane said, but her smile said otherwise. “This is your time, Lizzy; do not think of me.”

“Pray do not speak so! You know too well the circumstances of my marriage to think any news of your own would be unwelcome.”

Jane sat on her bed, and Elizabeth rose from her own and went to join her, giving her sister a small poke. “I insist you tell me all.”

“There is not so much to be told save for the fact that…he loves me still and wishes to marry me.”

“Are you engaged?” Elizabeth asked, feeling pleasure burst within her.

Somehow Jane’s smile grew even bigger. “We are! Oh Lizzy, forgive me, but…we could not wait. We meant to wait. He told me he intended to ask me after your wedding but then we were…um…that is to say, in a private moment?—”

Amused, Elizabeth asked, “You were kissing?”

Jane flushed and then covered her face with her hands.

“I could not help it. Yes, I let him kiss me, and he said ‘if you do not agree to be my wife, I think I shall burst’, and I said that I should not wish him to burst and very much wished to marry him, and then he said he was bursting with happiness, and I said I was bursting as well!”

Elizabeth drew her sister into an embrace. “I am utterly delighted for you dear, dear sister. And not surprised at all. It was clear to me from the moment he saw you at Darcy House that he still loved you as much as ever.”

“Our father knows and has given us his blessing, but Mama has not been told. I knew she could not be silent on the matter.”

“Do not torture Mama on my account,” Elizabeth replied. “Pray, go tell her now. Let her know how proud she must be.”

“I would not wish to take away from?—”

“No, no!” Elizabeth gave her sister a little push. “Truly, go to her. Tell her everything and let her sleep and dream dreams of the next grand occasion at Longbourn.”

Jane looked doubtful for a mere second and then rose and nearly skipped from the room.

It was not long thereafter that shrieks of delight came from Mrs Bennet’s room.

Elizabeth heard the footsteps of their younger sisters pounding towards her mother’s bedchamber and then they too joined the cacophony of well wishes.

Only think, if I had refused Mr Darcy as I once wished to, I would not have seen him again…and thus Jane likely would not have been reunited with Bingley. This muddle of mine has at least had this bit of good arise from it.

I am almost done with this farce.

Darcy stood at Longbourn, amid an abundant wedding breakfast, considering the day.

He had come into town at the last possible moment, preventing any suggestion of a celebratory dinner or ball.

Of the wedding itself, there could not be too little said, save for the fact that all the necessary steps were completed to make the union official.

Darcy did not trouble himself overmuch to appear happy.

These were not the people who signified, and furthermore, they already thought him aloof and disagreeable.

No sense dissuading them from their disapproval.

Elizabeth did look very beautiful, he had to admit, and she had almost seemed sincere when she had vowed to love and honour him for all the days of her life.

He had not been able to look at her, save for once.

His gaze had happened to lock with hers, her eyes betraying her uncertainty, her own fearfulness.

It was too much. He was not yet willing to have compassion for her.

After that, he made sure to train his eyes on the edge of her veil.

That had been Saye’s advisement, as to the congregants, it would appear he was gazing lovingly at his bride, while in truth he was admiring the veil.

Happily, there was enough movement of air within the church to cause the veil to flutter slightly, and he appreciated being able to fix on that rather than the fact that life as he knew it was coming to an end.

As Fitzwilliam had been called to duty with his regiment, it was to Saye to stand up with him.

Darcy had been reluctant to concede to his cousin’s offer to do so, trying to envision his cousin at Longbourn.

There were two possibilities: Saye would be haughtily aloof, or Saye would be filled with a perverse desire to immerse himself in the local goings-on.

It proved to be the latter. Saye found Sir William Lucas charming, delighted in the whole of the Goulding family, and proclaimed that in Mr Bennet he saw a kindred spirit.

Darcy could only shake his head and appreciate the fact that Saye did not make trouble, or at least not further trouble.

Would that she could have loved him! Then this would be a happy day indeed. Instead, he found himself married to a woman whose sharp tongue made Caroline Bingley seem kindly.

They were for London after the breakfast, and he did his best to smile as he escorted her out and handed her into the carriage. The thud of the carriage door shutting them in, cutting off the cries of the well-wishers, felt portentous.

And so it begins.

He situated himself on the bench across from her, removing his hat and gloves and settling into a comfortable position. Elizabeth only watched him do so, but he ignored her, raising his arm to knock on the roof and signal the coachmen to drive forwards.

As they rolled out of the drive, she offered, very hesitantly, “The day was very nice, I thought. Everything went off as planned which is too often not the case.”

“Assuming a loveless marriage was the plan, then yes, it was all as planned.”

She looked crestfallen and lowered her eyes to her folded hands on her lap.

She could not know how he felt, having just bound his life to the very sort of woman he had always sought to avoid. Spiteful. Avaricious. And even worse—hiding it behind a pretty face. It had been the study of his life to avoid that sort of woman and yet, here he was!

It was not long after that before she tried again. “Did you eat anything?” she asked very meekly. “The food was all…the cake, most particularly, I believe you are fond of cake that has?— ”

“Pray do not play the doting wife,” he said sharply. “There is no one here to appreciate the display, and I do not much like being the object of your performances.”

She turned her head then and stared out the window. They had just left Meryton when she tried a third time. “If you would wish to hear me, I would like to apologise?—”

“If it is all the same to you, I should vastly prefer that we are silent,” he said, as icily as possible. “There is nothing to talk about, nothing for which to apologise.”

“There are, in fact, a great many things for which I need to apologise,” she said, leaning forwards into the space between them. “You are correct in that I have been too cruel, and I wish that?—”

“Elizabeth.” The day had been too long and too trying, and she was testing his patience.

“I do not wish to talk. You cannot apologise for an inherent biting wit hidden under the thin patina of feminine charm and good humour. You are what you are, and I am what I am, and so shall it be until one of us dies. I do not care to discuss it.”

She sat back into the squabs, her eyes wide and shiny.

A moment later, she nodded and turned her attention to the passing scenery out the window.

He felt remorseful for having spoken so but hardened himself against it, purposely thinking of one of her past insults of him: I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.

He was exhausted; the past weeks had been weeks of too little sleep, too many sorrows, and too much worry.

And too much drink, if he was perfectly honest about it.

It caught up with him quickly, and he was soon asleep, allowing the soothing rock of the carriage to lull him.

It was not a deep sleep, more of a doze, and as they went through some small town, he opened his eyes.

She was still looking out the window, her chin resting on one hand.

While he watched, a fat tear slid down her cheek.

It was not the first, if her reddened nose was any indication.

She reached up and wiped it away with the fingers of her other hand but otherwise did not move.

More tears followed and he closed his eyes, too dangerously near sympathy to continue watching.