Page 31

RESURRECTION

E lizabeth and Darcy rose early the day after the funeral. It was odd to attend the wedding a mere day after burying their friend. However, the wedding had been planned for a month and the guests had arrived expecting a wedding.

“They will have much more fanfare than we did,” Darcy told her. “Do you regret that I did not give you a grand society wedding?”

Elizabeth turned to her husband. “You and I would not have been comfortable with such a display. I am sure that there were moments when you were uncomfortable being the centre of attention at our wedding. What we had was right for us.”

Darcy stood behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her so that his hands cradled her stomach. “Thank you for understanding,” he murmured into her hair.

Elizabeth sighed. “You know I do envy Caroline one thing….”

Darcy almost growled. “Whatever it is, I will give it to you!”

Elizabeth turned in his arms and kissed his face. Laughing, she informed him, “You cannot make this child grow any faster. Caroline felt the quickening last week. That is what I envy. I want to feel our child inside me.”

“You are right, I cannot give you that, Mrs Darcy,” he grinned, wickedly.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t! I know that look and we do not have time. Nor am I in a mood for a crude joke.”

Darcy kissed her deeply. “Very well, then later.”

Elizabeth sighed as he turned, moved to the side of her, and began tying his cravat in an elegant and flamboyant waterfall.

“You know, Fitzwilliam cannot tie his cravat like this,” Darcy observed.

Elizabeth swatted her husband’s arm. “Nor does he have your particular birthmark!”

Darcy grinned. “Now, now, Elizabeth. Much more of that and we just might make time and be late for the wedding.”

They continued to banter and tease each other throughout the rest of the time that they dressed, knowing full well that they would not be the ones to be late for the wedding. They were the first ones to arrive in the parlour that morning, despite their joking and teasing.

Slowly, the parlour filled with the family. Lady Matlock and Mrs Bennet were nowhere to be seen as they were helping the two brides that morning. The gentlemen were about to leave when four older gentlemen entered the parlour. Lady Catherine looked like she might faint, before picking up her skirts and flinging herself into the arms of one of the gentlemen!

Consternation and confusion seemed to ripple around the room. Darcy looked at the men with a dispassionate stare. “I do not believe in ghosts, so what is happening here?”

“We faked our deaths. It was the only way to finish the job,” one of the gentlemen said. “Where is my son?”

“Your son? I do not know who that is,” Darcy replied.

“Fitz, why don’t you introduce Wickham and myself to the room and then we can clear up the rest of the situation,” the elder gentleman requested.

Darcy swallowed. Pulling his wife into his side, he began the introductions. He turned to his wife and addressed her, “Elizabeth, please allow me to introduce my father, Mr Martin George Darcy and his erstwhile steward of Pemberley, Mr George Wickham senior. Father, Elizabeth is my wife. I have three sisters by marriage – Jane Bennet, Catherine Bennet, and Lydia Bennet. I also have a brother by marriage, Mr Mark Bennet.”

Mr Darcy scowled at his son. “Are you telling me that Mr Timothy Bennet is your father-in-law?”

Darcy swallowed. “He is.”

“This is priceless!” Mr Darcy laughed. “The girls who we most feared for were protected better by my son than I ever managed.”

“I do not understand, father,” Darcy stated, bewildered.

“Before we get into my explanation, I am aware that there is a wedding today and perhaps the explanation would be better for us to wait until afterwards. You will have recognised your uncle, Sir Lewis de Bourgh. The gentleman who asked about his son is Mr Phillip Bingley,” Mr Darcy informed them.

“Bingley’s father. I never met him, so I apologise I did not know who you were,” Darcy explained.

Mr Bingley shrugged. “Where is my son? Is it not his name on the lease for this house?”

“It is his name. However, Charles Bingley took his own life a few days ago. We buried him in the churchyard of St Mary’s just down the road from here. The wedding will be held there in just under an hour,” Darcy explained.

“Why would my son take his own life?” Mr Bingley asked.

“I think it had to do with the accident at the mill when he was a child. He did not tell me much, but I know it haunted him to his dying day,” Darcy told the elder gentleman.

“Too bloody ashamed,” Fitzwilliam added. “I think he felt as though he were half a man.”

Mr Bingley nodded. “Thank you. I failed my son that day and every day since. My wife tried to assure him that he would have a good life despite what happened, but I don’t think he ever believed her.”

Darcy looked at his watch. “Gentlemen, we should have already been at the church. Christopher and Mark need to speak to the vicar before the ceremony takes place.”

The gentlemen took their cue and left the house with the Earl of Matlock leading the way. Darcy paused in the driveway. “Mr Bingley, are you aware that your daughter, Caroline, is marrying Mark today?”

“I am aware. She thinks me dead. It is not right for me to turn up and try to act like a father on her wedding day,” Mr Bingley worried.

“Perhaps, just talk to her before the wedding. It is not fair to spring this on her at the church,” Darcy pressed.

Mr Bingley stayed behind as Darcy suggested.

Darcy hurriedly tried to catch up with the group, but soon found himself lagging further and further behind as the pain in his stomach grew. He did not want to disappoint Fitzwilliam, but he would not be able to stand up with him. By the time they arrived at the church after the short walk, Darcy was in a state of near collapse. He had not attended the burial the day before, so had not expected to feel so unwell. On arrival at the church, Darcy almost collapsed into a pew towards the back.

“Fitz, are you well?” The earl asked.

Barely able to see for the pain, Darcy shook his head. “I should not have walked here,” he wheezed.

The earl frowned and snapped his fingers at a passing young boy. “Do you know Netherfield, boy?”

“I do, sir,” the young child answered.

“Good, run to that house and tell Mrs Darcy that she needs to come to the church in her own carriage. She is to follow the two bridal carriages in hers. Do you understand me? If she asks questions tell her that her husband will need the carriage to get home afterwards,” the earl instructed.

The boy nodded and ran full pelt out of the church doors.

“Will you be well enough to stay?” The earl asked concerned.

Darcy nodded. “I think… it is… going to ease… if I just sit… and relax.”

“Let’s get you up front and in the pew where you’ll be sitting with your wife,” the earl said, “and then you need not do anything other than watch the wedding take place. My son was foolish to expect you to be able to walk here.”

Darcy ruefully admitted, “He did not. I insisted that I would be able to do so.”

The earl shook his head at his nephew’s foolishness.