Page 20 of Expectations (Obstinate, Headstrong Girl #7)
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
D arcy stood gravely near the pulpit, where Mr Palmer had bid him wait.
To say that he was all anticipation would be to understate the case entirely.
It had been all he could do, limiting his letters to Elizabeth to practical matters.
He had written her other letters, of course—ones he would never send and she would never see, full of love and lust and longing; those would, likely, someday be consigned to the fire.
A marriage of convenience , he reminded himself, to a woman who has no better options .
He had not stayed long after he and Elizabeth had returned to her home the day of his proposal—just long enough for him to make the announcement of their marriage to the children.
Speaking with young Thomas had given Darcy a peculiar pang.
Although the child looked the very image of Bingley, he was reserved, shy even—traits his father had never had.
Yet, there had been something about him beyond his looks—an innate curiosity, an earnestness, that he had once seen in Bingley, as well.
What had Montrose Hurst called him, so long ago?
‘Charles Bingley, the young prince of an empty kingdom.’ Bingley had been the family’s future, overindulged to a fault, and yet, somehow, Darcy believed, neglected.
It was a sober reminder of the duties he was taking upon himself in raising these children.
A few people, none of whose faces he recognised, sat on the wooden benches towards the back of the chapel, gawping, making him feel conspicuous.
Elizabeth had implied that there would not be many from her family attending—which was, naturally, preferable.
He hated being the centre of attention, of feeling the eyes of curious strangers upon him.
But he worried, although she had not stated it explicitly, that her family disapproved.
He could not think of a single reason why they should, unless they still blamed him for Bingley’s very presence in their lives, for which he had more than paid and long ago; yet her father had behaved in a strictly formal, almost cold manner towards him during the search for the children.
Not that he cared, overmuch, for Mr Bennet’s opinions.
Still, if those opinions were any reflection of his daughter’s feelings, it could point to deeper troubles.
He would swear that Elizabeth’s feelings towards him had changed for the better—but better enough for marriage?
He did not fool himself that she returned his affections, that she was going through with this for any motive other than to best serve Cassandra and Thomas.
Still, it was one thing to have a marriage of convenience, and quite another to agree, for life, to tie himself to a woman who hated him.
There was no reason for hatred though! He had confessed that he was responsible for urging Bingley to marry her sister. She had not seemed resentful over that. And surely, if he could surrender his resentment—something that only a couple of months ago had seemed impossible—she could, hers!
He had nearly decided to find a more private place to wait when an older couple entered the church, accompanied by two small children—Cassandra and Thomas. Cassandra spotted him immediately, and letting go of the woman’s hand, raced up the aisle towards him before she could be prevented.
“Papa!” she called, loudly enough to turn heads. “Papa!” She jumped up into his arms almost before he realised it would happen, and he barely caught her in time.
“Papa?” he asked, amazed. But a part of him warmed immediately to the idea.
Eyes shining, she smiled innocently up at him. “But yes! You are to be our papa now.”
He would lay money that Elizabeth had told her no such thing. “How can I be ‘Papa’ if my wife is ‘Auntie Lizzy’? Would I not be ‘Uncle Darcy’?”
Her little brow crinkled, but at that moment, the older couple—with a much quieter Thomas—approached.
“Mr Darcy! How good to see you again! We were introduced—oh, it has been several years now, I suppose, so you may not remember, but may I just tell you how pleased we are for you and Lizzy!”
Thankfully, a name flashed into his mind— Philips . This was Mrs Bennet’s sister, he recalled, and while her husband was silent—probably accustomed to his wife’s bonhomie—he did not at all appear hostile.
“Mrs Philips. I thank you for your kind wishes.”
She beamed at him. “Oh, how good of you to remember me! Did you hear, Mr Philips? Did I not say that I thought he might?”
Mr Philips smiled benignly; no reply was, evidently, expected.
“My sister would have been here, had her health permitted. She has, hardly, left her bed since—” she glanced down at Thomas, hesitating—“since earlier this year. Lately, however, she has found greater strength. She has expended much of her energies on a celebratory breakfast at Longbourn to be served later this morning, before we see you and Mrs Darcy off to town. Just a few of her closest neighbours, you know. I hope you will be pleased?”
Truthfully, he had been looking forward to leaving the place from the church door. However, this was not for him to decide.
“If it is what Elizabeth desires, I would be happy to celebrate at Longbourn.”
“A clever man, who takes his wife’s wishes into consideration. Isn’t he clever, Mr Philips?”
“Where is Auntie Liz—I mean, where is Mama?” Cassandra asked, plainly having come down on the side of keeping Darcy as ‘Papa’.
“She’s in heaven, Cassie,” Thomas replied.
Cassandra’s expression turned mulish. “No, that mama is our mama-in-heaven, and Auntie Lizzy is our mama in England.”
“I do not think you can have two,” the literal-minded Thomas said. “Aunt Philips, can a child have two mothers?”
As Mrs Philips puzzled over this, the church doors opened to admit Lydia Philips and a well-formed young man who must be her husband; behind them, followed Mr Bennet with Elizabeth.
Darcy’s heart beat a storm in his chest.
She wore a gown of a soft blue stuff, an expensive fabric, exquisitely cut; although it was not elaborately trimmed, it flowed around her silkily with every step, hugging her form, hinting at the figure it veiled rather than disguised.
Her hair had been upswept and nearly tamed for the occasion, crowned by a pretty, lacy little hat, curls left framing her face.
She looked from him to the little girl in his arms, and smiled.
It was like sunlight peeking through the clouds.
He smiled back, unable to help it, and for the first time, allowed himself to feel the joy of a bridegroom, passionately in love with the woman of his dreams, on his wedding day.