Page 31 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Church in Meryton

Darcy sat stiff and upright, not at all pleased that Miss Bingley had managed to seat herself beside him on the pew.

There was no help for it now, though, and he kept his focus on the front of the church.

At least with Hurst and Mrs. Hurst sitting in the same pew and a wedding about to start, Miss Bingley was unlikely to criticize or complain to him about the bride, groom, and congregants.

Richard was here as well, sitting beyond the Hursts. They would spend the night at Netherfield Hall and then return to London on the morrow. Darcy was not entirely certain why Richard had come, but he appreciated the company.

Bingley was standing at the head of the church behind Sir Quinton, who was dressed in the finest evening coat and breeches he had with him and appearing solemnly pleased.

It seemed that the groom’s party would not be left waiting long.

Already the music was changing, and the doors in the back of the church opened to admit the bridal party.

Sir William was practically bursting with pride and joy, his eldest on his arm and looking quite pretty in a simple ivory dress and hat, her bouquet a spray of greenery.

Maria paced gravely behind her father and sister, eyes wide with excitement.

Mr. Allen beamed upon them all as Sir William placed Charlotte’s hand on Sir Quinton’s arm, and then the rector bent his head over the open book on the altar before him and began the ceremony.

Darcy allowed his mind to wander, and his eyes too.

Miss Elizabeth was sitting in the pew directly across the aisle, her very presence as magnetic as ever, so it was not really surprising that it was to her that his gaze was drawn.

She did not return his look, instead watching the front of the church intently, which allowed him to stare his fill.

He was not thrilled with what he saw. Miss Elizabeth was always beautiful – she would be beautiful dressed in a feed sack recovering from measles, he thought – but she did not look entirely well.

Her shoulders had a weary slump to them beneath her woolen shawl, and her face was paler than her wont, which only made the dark shadows below her eyes more prominent.

None of it was surprising, of course. Mr. Bennet’s illness had to weigh heavily on all of them, and he could not imagine that frivolous, light-minded, nervous Mrs. Bennet was of any aid or comfort to her burdened daughters.

Darcy repressed an absurdly strong desire to go and take Miss Elizabeth’s hands in his own and comfort her.

It was not the time or place, but it did make it clear that, in spite of weeks apart, his attraction to Elizabeth Bennet was not withering away.

On the contrary, he found her as enchanting and appealing and beautiful as ever.

Even now, she did not let the difficulties of her life suppress her into an unflattering somberness.

Her smile was radiant, full of unselfish joy for her dear friend.

Not only had Miss Elizabeth rebuffed a chance to become Lady Marston, but she had intentionally put another lady in the way of claiming that title.

Was it any wonder, really, that Darcy had lost his heart to a woman so kind, so generous, so full of integrity? It was a remarkable woman indeed who would kindly and gently refuse a position of nobility in such a way and then urge her suitor to look to another.

He was in love; he knew that now. Ardently, hopelessly, in love.

But regrettably, now was not the time to burden the lady he adored with an unlooked-for, unwanted courtship, when she was already so tired from helping Miss Bennet and Miss Mary run the estate.

No, Darcy would pray, and seek wisdom, and bide his time, until he and Miss Elizabeth were both ready. He would wait. He must.

***

Lucas Lodge

Later

Mrs. Bennet was in the habit of noting, in tones of varying pity and smugness, that Lady Lucas did not entertain on as grand a scale as Mrs. Bennet was wont to do.

This was certainly true. Where Mrs. Bennet’s tastes ran to the lavish, Lady Lucas was far more prudent, not squandering money on expensive foods from London or out of season fruits grown meticulously in an orangery or pinery.

The dinners Lady Lucas served could best be described as ‘sensible.’ This fine morning, however, a casual observer could be forgiven for mistaking otherwise at first glance, but then this was an incredible day as Lady Lucas celebrated the marriage of her eldest daughter to a baronet.

Lucas Lodge was crammed with the most guests it had seen in a lifetime, which was saying quite a lot.

The Lucases, as one of the foremost families in the area, often held dinner parties and small balls, so the sitting rooms and drawing rooms and dining room were in good order.

Never before had the parties been so large as to necessitate the opening of every room for the use of the guests, but today, after a week of frantic cleaning, all but the private chambers were open to the myriad guests streaming throughout the Lodge.

The dining room was devoted entirely to the buffet of rolls, and pies, and ham, and bacon, and potatoes, and cakes, and preserves, as well as the tea, coffee, chocolate, punch, and lemonade that made up the wedding breakfast. No one was eating there.

There were other rooms for that, and no space for diners with the long line snaking steadily through the room.

Lady Lucas kept a firm eye on the tables, though not a worried one.

She had ordered plenty of food, and none would be leaving the Lodge hungry that day.

The primary drawing room had been given up to the happy couple.

Sir Quinton and Lady Marston held court in the very center, a small table drawn to the middle of the room for their use.

Bites of breakfast were snatched between accepting effusive congratulations.

Charlotte Marston was radiant with joy, her face almost beautiful in her delight.

Beside her, Sir Quinton sat grinning, equally pleased with his second marriage.

Around them swirled local families and red-coated officers in a constant crush of well-wishers.

Elizabeth and Mary had already presented their congratulations to the newly married couple, and now they had made their way away from the crowds toward the back of the house having abandoned Kitty and Lydia to flirtations with officers in some room unknown, trusting in Miss Fairchild’s competent supervision.

Elizabeth had found a back parlor that Lady Lucas rarely used, for it was small, with heavy furnishings and dark navy drapes and upholstery that gave it a severe and somber air.

It was blessedly deserted, too far from the dining room and main drawing room for the press of guests to have trickled down quite so far, and the two sisters gladly took their refuge in order to partake of their breakfast.

“I hope that Jane is all right managing Longbourn,” Elizabeth fretted as she took a sip of punch.

“She is entirely all right, Lizzy,” Mary assured her. “You know Father generally sleeps much of the morning, and Mamma too, and with the servants assisting, all will be well.”

Elizabeth forced herself to breathe in deeply and then out, and she willed herself to relax.

She had rarely been away from home since her father’s apoplexy, as she was the one best able to soothe him when he was distressed.

That was not, she knew vaguely, particularly healthy for her, which was obvious whenever she looked into the mirror.

She was pale and thin and tired, and yet, when her mother was no good, and her father ill, what else could she do?

At least she had Jane and Mary, along with several faithful servants, and Mr. Wallace, the new steward.

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Mary, good day,” a familiar voice said from the door, and Elizabeth turned in surprise and smiled.

“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she replied, preparing to stand up, “good day.”

“Pray do not rise,” Darcy said hastily. “Richard and I were wondering whether we could join you here?”

“Of course,” Mary said promptly, gesturing toward two empty chairs.

The two gentlemen, who were carrying wine-filled goblets, obediently sat down, with Darcy nearer Elizabeth and the colonel across from Mary, and Richard said, “It is very good to see you both. May I inquire as to how your father is doing?”

Elizabeth sighed and said, “He is perhaps a trifle better, but if so, the improvement is minimal. It seems that his mind is moderately clear, but he has difficulty communicating.”

“That must be very distressing,” Darcy said in a sympathetic tone.

Elizabeth felt her eyes moisten, and she shook her head a little. She absolutely would not be a watering pot, not on her dear friend’s wedding day.

“It is,” she agreed, “but at least we are blessed with hardworking servants, and one of our young men, a former stable boy, is very strong and able to understand Father quite well. We also have a new steward who is trying to learn the ins and outs of the estate.”

Darcy nodded and said, “When my own father was failing for entirely different reasons, one of the hardest parts was that we did not know when he would succumb to his illness. He lived two years longer than the doctors expected, and I am grateful for those years, but the constant uncertainty was challenging.”

“Yes, exactly, the uncertainty,” Elizabeth said, swallowed hard, and managed a smile. “But please, enough of that. It was kind of you both to attend the wedding today. I am certain that Sir Quinton is grateful.”

“It was our pleasure,” Darcy said, gazing at her with a strange intensity. “I am happy for him and am confident that Lady Marston will be an excellent wife.”

“She will,” Elizabeth agreed. “Charlotte is very sensible and clever, and I am delighted for them both. Now, I am well aware that you are a bibliophile, and I have been too busy to read much. Are there any quite recent books that you think are interesting?”

Mr. Darcy looked a little startled, but after a moment of thought, he spoke of two novels from the previous year that Miss Darcy had liked. Elizabeth had read one of them, but not the other, and the ensuing discussion was both enjoyable and relaxing.