Page 26 of Darcy in Distress (Pride and Prejudice Variation #17)
Netherfield
In the days and months and years and decades that followed the wedding of Fitzwilliam Darcy to Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy could never recall the particulars of that holy hour which brought him and his bride into union before God.
He knew Mr. Allen, the kindly rector from the local church of Meryton, spoke the appropriate words from the Book of Common Prayer. He knew that he spoke the required responses, even as Elizabeth did. He remembered, when it was over, signing the registry book with his new bride.
What he did remember clearly, through all the years of his life, was Elizabeth.
She was radiant, dressed in a charming but simple green dress with a pale yellow overdress.
Her hair, her glorious brown hair, caught the light through the windows and shone in the sun.
Her beautiful eyes sparkled and glowed as she lifted her face to his.
He felt something break open in his chest during that sacred time.
He had been struggling so long, with Pemberley, with his mother’s illness, with his gentle sister’s pain, with the long, drawn out battle with Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine, with his guilt over having failed his mother, his sister, and the Wickhams when his father rained down punishment upon the innocents.
He had comrades who were truly wonderful friends at his side. George Wickham and Charles Bingley had, on occasion, figuratively held his hands up like Aaron and Hur held up Moses’s arms during battle.
But he had always been alone at night, always knew that Wickham and Bingley, as much as they cared about him, had their own lives and their own futures. They were bound to him by friendship and kindness, yes, but not…
Not by love and promises and law, like wonderful, precious, intelligent, courageous Elizabeth.
He loved her. He knew it with certainty now. Knew that God had brought them together and that only death would tear them apart. Knew that he would strain muscle and sinew and heart and soul to care for her, protect her, and adore her.
He loved Elizabeth.
When all was done, and the small group in attendance surged around him, exclaiming happily, he picked up his petite bride and kissed her passionately on her rosy lips, and she embraced him fervently as she returned the kiss, and Fitzwilliam Darcy knew that he had come home at last.
/
“My darling Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet said, reaching out to take her smaller hands in his own, “I am very happy for you. Your husband is a fine fellow.”
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy lifted herself up on her toes and gave her father a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa. I am very happy too.”
Bennet turned his attention on his new son-in-law and said, “I presume, given the situation with Lady Anne, that you will be staying here at Netherfield for the time being.”
“Yes, sir,” Darcy replied. “The colonel, Wickham, and I will be speaking further about how to rescue my mother in the near future, but at least Lady Catherine’s plans have been stymied by your magnificent daughter.”
“Indeed!” Bennet said before glancing at his pocket watch. “I had best return to Longbourn, as Mrs. Bennet may need me. Jane, I assume you would like to stay here at Netherfield for at least a few more hours?”
Jane, who was conversing softly with Charles Bingley, looked up at this remark and said, “Yes, Father, I would like to stay here. ”
“I will send the carriage back for you this afternoon,” Bennet promised, which caused Bingley to say, “You need not, Mr. Bennet; I will ensure that Miss Bennet arrives home safely.”
“Excellent,” Bennet said, bowing briefly to the men and giving his newly married daughter one last embrace. “Until we meet again!”
Mrs. Hurst, who had spent the morning assisting with the details of the wedding, waited until the door closed behind Mr. Bennet before saying, “I do beg you all to enter the dining room now for breakfast. The cooks have arranged a very fine repast for the newly married couple!”
Darcy held out his arm and said, “Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth looked up at him, the golden flecks in her eyes sparkling, and said, “We shall, Mr. Darcy.”
/
Beaumont House
Russell Square
Londo n
“Drive to Darcy House at Grosvenor Square,” Cecil ordered the coachman loudly, “but stop by the servant’s door; my father wishes for two of the servants to accompany me.”
“Yes, sir,” the coachman said without the slightest interest, setting the horses in motion. Cecil leaned back upon the squabs of the seat and swallowed hard. If his father were to arrive now, Cecil was finished. Lord Matlock would never forgive him.
The carriage lurched to a stop, and Cecil opened the door from the inside.
A moment later, Deborah assisted a well cloaked figure into the conveyance and then climbed in after her.
The horses started trotting again as Lady Anne pulled the hood off her head and said kindly, “You have done very well, Cecil. Do not be concerned. All will be well.”
Cecil was caught between embarrassment at his own obvious fearfulness and a hope for reassurance.
“Do you truly think so, Aunt?” he finally inquired, laying aside pride. “I fear my father will come soon and…”
“There is no reason to think he will,” Lady Anne declared with a smile. “In any case, if you did as we planned, the servants will report that you ordered the carriage to Darcy House. ”
“I did.”
“Very good. In about fifteen minutes, we will reach the road which will lead to Hertfordshire. You will tell the coachman that you have changed your mind and that we need to go to Netherfield instead.”
Cecil grimaced and said, “You do not think he will question that order?”
“Of course not. He is a servant, Nephew. It is not his business to question orders, and even if he thinks it odd, he will do as you tell him to. We will need to change horses once, but the posting houses along the route can do so quickly. Do not worry, Cecil. I promise all will be well.”
/
The wedding breakfast was not as sumptuous as Mrs. Bennet would have insisted upon, but Elizabeth and Darcy were perfectly satisfied.
Indeed, such was their joy that they would likely have been pleased with cold water and a hunk of bread, but there was no reason for such deprivation.
Netherfield’s cook was exceptionally skilled, and she had enthusiastically rousted out her minions even earlier than usual to prepare a feast for the newly wedded couple.
There were fruit salads and hot chocolate, and scones and tea, and hearty ham and delicate shortcakes, and Bingley made a note to give all the kitchen staff an extra bonus for providing such a lovely meal on short notice.
It was a joyous time, full of laughter and conversation and stolen kisses between the bridegroom and bride. Jane and Bingley were, of course, seated side by side, talking with perfect amity, and both lady and gentleman wore soft looks of adoration as they gazed into one another’s faces.
Georgiana, seated by Mrs. Younge, mostly spoke with her companion, but her eyes kept drifting joyfully to Darcy and Elizabeth. She had always longed for a sister, and now, in the new Mrs. Darcy, she had one.
Louisa Hurst was happy as well. Mr. Darcy was a fine man, and he deserved true joy in marriage and in life. She did not know Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy well, but she had excellent intuition, and she knew the young lady to be intelligent, quick-witted, and kind.
Mr. Hurst was delighted to have such a sumptuous meal before noon.
Last of all, Mrs. Lockwood, who could hardly sleep because of her concern for Lady Anne, was thankful for the brief respite from her worries.
She sat next to Reverend Allen, who had agreed to stay for the meal, and they spoke of charity work among tenant farmers.
Mrs. Lockwood’s father was a parson in Southwick.
It was a most pleasant interlude in the midst of several exhausting and difficult days, and Darcy was thankful to eat and talk and feast his eyes on his lovely bride for a full hour before the door opened in an outer corridor, and a familiar but unwelcome voice bellowed, “Darcy!”
/
The vestibule of Netherfield held three visitors: two women and one man.
The man was, of course, Mr. William Collins, parson and, for now, heir of Longbourn.
The woman in the middle of the group, a tall, gray haired woman with strongly marked features and an arrogant expression, dominated the tableau.
Indeed, Anne de Bourgh, short, thin, wrapped in a warm spencer, her eyes downcast, seemed almost a wraith compared to her formidable mother.
“Lady Catherine, Anne, Mr. Collins,” Darcy said coldly. “This is a surprise. What brings you to Netherfield?”
“You know perfectly well why I am here!” Lady Catherine retorted. “But come, where are your manners? Anne and I are both cold and fatigued, Anne especially. You know how delicate she is! Bring us to the drawing room and give us tea!”
“I cannot do that,” Darcy said. “I am not master of this house.”
“Then introduce me to your friend Bingley and be quick about it! I have had quite enough of your procrastination! It is long past time for you to marry Anne, and you will do so now. I have brought Mr. Collins along with me, and Anne has, in her reticule, the special license which will allow him to preside over your wedding here and now.”
Darcy opened his mouth to speak, and the lady lifted a pink gloved hand and exclaimed, “No, Darcy, no! I wish to hear no arguments from you on this matter! Your mother and I decided when you and Anne were children that you would marry, and the time has come. If you behave yourself, I promise that I will support you in your determination to keep guardianship over Georgiana. If not, and I trust you know that I always keep my word, I will throw my support with Matlock. You are not, I trust, such a fool as to make an enemy of both me and my brother the earl!”
Darcy waited for five seconds to see if he would be permitted to speak, then gestured toward Elizabeth, who was waiting a few feet away, her beautiful face calm. She walked over to him and took hold of his arm, even as she gazed with open challenge into the face of her husband’s aunt.
“Lady Catherine,” Darcy said, “I fear that regardless of your threats, it is quite impossible for me to marry Anne. Allow me to introduce to you my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”
Silence fell for a full thirty seconds. Wickham was standing protectively near Darcy and found his eyes fixed on Anne de Bourgh, who turned entirely pale and staggered backwards.
He stepped forward rapidly and helped her into a well padded chair, where she leaned back weakly, her pupils dilated with shock.
Lady Catherine was too stunned, furious, and outraged to note her daughter’s sudden collapse.
“Impossible!” she finally bellowed. “It is entirely absurd and ridiculous that you could marry this … she is but a second daughter of a … it is insane … I do not believe it, nor do I believe that any parson would be so foolish as to marry two such…”
“Indeed, Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins exclaimed, taking an outraged step toward the new bride.
“It is outrageous, nay, impossible, that you could marry Mr. Darcy of Pemberley! Aside from the inferiority of your birth compared to the illustrious antecedents of the Darcy and de Bourgh families, you are engaged to me . ”
Elizabeth’s hand tightened on Darcy’s arm, and her eyes blazed with anger. “I most certainly am not, and never was, engaged to you, Mr. Collins.”
“I spoke to your father myself on the matter!” the parson cried out, his face flushed with resentment.
“We agreed that as Miss Bennet was being courted by Mr. Bingley, it was only right that you, as the second eldest daughter of the house, would have the honor of marrying me, the heir of Longbourn!”
Darcy opened his mouth in protest, but he kept silent as his bride took a small step forward and glared up into her cousin’s eyes.
“My father told me of your intention to marry one of his daughters. He also told me that he did his best to discourage you from pursuing me, Mr. Collins. If you had offered, I would never have accepted. There was no bar in marrying Mr. Darcy, and I did only two hours ago, and there is nothing you or Lady Catherine can do about it!”
“Miss Elizabeth!” Collins exclaimed, his face now white with horror, his forehead wet with perspiration. “I never, in all my life, imagined that a relation of my own could be such a strumpet, such a harlot, as to…”
Before he could complete his vituperative words, Darcy let go of Elizabeth’s hand, stepped forward, and sent one strong fist crashing into the parson’s jaw .
Collins shrieked in astonished pain and fell over, and even Lady Catherine, who had obviously been preparing to add her own insults to that of the rector’s, took a step back in astonished dismay.
“You will not say another word about my wife,” Darcy growled, looming over the now cringing clergyman, “else I will strike you again, and this time I will break bones.”
“Darcy, what has come over you?” Lady Catherine shouted.
“I order you to leave, now!” Bingley snapped, his own usually good humored countenance dark with fury. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are my treasured and honored guests, and I will not permit you to insult them within my walls.”
Collins had by this time staggered to his feet and was holding his jaw, which was purpling before their eyes. Lady Catherine, her eyes narrowed like slits, demanded, “How old are you, Miss Bennet?”
“Mrs. Darcy ,” Elizabeth returned evenly, her expression firm. “My name is Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy .”
“My cousin is twenty years of age, Lady Catherine,” Collins quavered, though he took care to stay behind his patroness and well away from Darcy’s fists.
“Good, you are not yet of age,” Lady Catherine snarled.
“We will ride immediately to Longbourn, and I will arrange to have this disgraceful, impossible marriage annulled. Given that this farce of a wedding only took place this morning, I will assume that it has not been consummated, and thus can be set aside.”
Darcy took a menacing step forward, and she retreated, saying, “Anne, stay here and wait! I will return within the hour. Mr. Collins, come!”
Lady Catherine retreated rather more rapidly than she had entered the house, with her fearful parson nearly stepping on her heels in his haste to flee. The door swung shut behind them, and Anne de Bourgh, heiress to the vast estate of Rosings in Kent, burst into tears.