Page 50 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Church

Meryton

Darcy shifted a little and stilled again lest he bump into Bingley on one side of him or Richard Fitzwilliam on his other.

The three men stood at the altar of the church, shoulder to shoulder, all of them resplendent in their finest eveningwear, neat black coats and perfectly pressed lapels and boots polished to a mirror shine.

It was still, in some ways, a surreal culmination of a rather hectic week.

Elizabeth’s express had thrown Darcy – and Richard, when he had heard – into a storm of frenetic activity.

Scarcely any conversation had been required for both men to agree that they did not wish to risk waiting six months or more to wed, but that was almost the last peaceful moment before a very full week.

There were the marriage licenses to acquire, of course, and marriage settlements to be worked out between men of business, and letters to write to various individuals of note.

Then a mad dash had ensued back to Meryton, where Bingley had returned Darcy’s offered hospitality by opening Netherfield to his friend and Richard Fitzwilliam.

Arrangements were hastily made with the local rector, Mr. Allen, and further accommodations made for the other guests who were arriving for the triple wedding.

Then finally, finally , the morning of the weddings had dawned. Now, exactly a week to the day since Darcy had received his beloved’s express concerning her fears for her father’s declining health, he and his friends stood awaiting their brides.

Darcy was not prone to nerves. In fact, the last time he had been overset had been the occasion of his mother’s death, when he was just a child.

Since then, he had faced with grave equanimity all of the catastrophes that life had thrown his way; his father’s illness and subsequent death, various problems with the estate, and personal difficulties.

Darcy was a man well-used to facing changes in life with stern self-discipline.

Which made it all the more remarkable now that he had been beset with such an attack of nerves as to render him fidgety. Not that his wedding was a catastrophe. He could not think of anything further from the truth! It would be a major change to be married to Elizabeth, but a blissful one.

Perhaps that explained why he found himself bouncing on his toes. Richard grinned knowingly at him, and Darcy smiled back sheepishly before turning his focus rather desperately on the rest of the church in search of a distraction from his own anticipation.

The church was not as full as it might have been in London, but that was fine.

The Earl and Countess of Matlock had cleared their schedules to come down and see their younger son married, and Zachary had abandoned his fiancée, Lady Aurelia, without apparent compunction.

Darcy wondered, fleetingly, if the elder Fitzwilliam resented his younger brother marrying first, but as the Viscount showed no particular concern for his intended left behind in London, Darcy concluded that the viscount was likely not in that great a hurry to enter the state of matrimony, anyway.

Beside the viscount sat Lady Susannah, the earl’s only daughter, looking pleased.

Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley sat in front of the Matlocks.

Darcy caught his sister’s eye, and she beamed at him joyously.

Darcy, ecstatic, grinned back before looking to the other side of the church.

The Lucases sat a little back, in their Sunday best and appearing remarkably gracious, which was easy enough, Darcy supposed, when the eldest daughter of the house had become Lady Marston.

In front of them, Mrs. Bennet was sobbing joyfully into her handkerchief.

Beside her, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were not as squirmy and wiggly as Darcy would have expected but sat appropriately solemn, if rather excited.

It was a pity that Mr. Bennet could not be present today, but his fragile health forbade such a venture from the sanctum of his own home.

The door opened in the back of the church, and Darcy heard Bingley draw in a quick gasp as Mr. Gardiner entered the sanctuary with Jane on his right arm and Elizabeth on his left, while behind the pair, Mr. Phillips walked with Mary on his arm.

Jane Bennet looked radiant, without a doubt, wearing a pale blue gown and holding a bouquet of white roses.

But his eyes were only for Elizabeth, who was dressed in green, her hair piled high, with a bouquet of yellow roses in her right hand.

She was gorgeous and glorious, and he had to blink away tears of joy.

How could it be that he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, awkward, proud, and uncomfortable in company, had found such a radiant lady to be his bride? It was incredible and wonderful.

The uncles arrived at the head of the nave and distributed their nieces to their appropriate bridegrooms, and the three pairs turned toward old Mr. Allen, who stood before them, his face stretched in a smile.

The rector turned his attention to the Book of Common Prayer. “Dearly beloved,” he said. “We are gathered here today…”

***

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Three Days Later

Birds chirped in trees and bushes, singing of the glories of sunshine and blue skies, of flowers and nests and eggs. White clouds like sheep flocked through the pasture of the firmament, and their twins below gamboled through the green fields.

Inside the house, the joys of late spring did not touch a room heavy with sorrow.

Couples and sisters sat close together, the Darcys holding hands, the Fitzwilliams shoulder to shoulder, while Lydia and Kitty huddled against one another for comfort.

Mr. Bingley’s face was pale and anxious as he awaited his wife.

Miss Fairchild was solemnly composed, while beside her, Mrs. Bennet, pale and weepy, nonetheless remarkably mirrored the governess’s composure.

“Thank you for coming here with me today,” Elizabeth murmured to her husband, and he tightened his grip on her hand and said, “It is my honor and my pleasure, of course, my dear.”

It had been a whiplash few days. Their wedding day had been glorious, going off without a hitch, the wedding breakfast delicious, with all manner of friends and acquaintances coming to wish the couples well.

They had not repaired back to Netherfield until after noon, and at once the three couples had separated from each other, each to their own wing of the house.

Dinner had been served in the sitting rooms attached to the private bedchambers, and the smiling servants had not lingered.

All three newlywed couples had slept late and met for a large breakfast in the main dining room.

It was while the three sisters and their husbands lingered over coffee and toast that the message had come from Longbourn.

Jane had accepted it from the footman with a smile and unrolled the scrap of paper.

It had not taken her long to read it, and her smile had dropped away as she lifted grief-stricken eyes to her family, who were all watching her anxiously.

Bingleys, Darcys, and Fitzwilliams had all been on the way to Longbourn in fifteen minutes, Darcy pausing only long enough to dispatch a message to Pemberley that the servants should not expect their master and new mistress and their guests any time soon; the planned honeymoon was delayed indefinitely due to unavoidable family issues.

The couples had arrived to find Mr. Bennet entirely unresponsive, his consciousness claimed by the second apoplexy that had attacked him perhaps an hour before dawn.

He had been arranged comfortably in his bed, where he lay peacefully, the only sign of movement the slight rise and fall of his chest, each cycle stretching out longer and longer, each breath a little slower and shallower than the last.

Darcy had swallowed his disappointment. He had been eager to bear Elizabeth off to the wild and beautiful lands of Derbyshire, to the home that was now hers, to show her in glorious leisure how much he loved her.

Yet that plan must be set aside. Even when they should, sooner or later, depart for Pemberley, the death of her beloved father would cast a pall over Elizabeth’s spirits, dampening her joy as she mourned her loss.

Darcy looked worriedly at his darling wife.

Defunct honeymoon notwithstanding, he could only be glad and grateful to have married already.

She was his wife now, and it would not be odd for him to go into mourning, to stay by her side, and to support her in her grief.

That was far more important than a blissfully idyllic trip to Derbyshire.

The door opened and Jane Bingley entered, her beautiful face grave, and she said, “Elizabeth, would you like to see Father?”

“Thank you, Jane,” Elizabeth replied and turned brimming eyes on Darcy, who said gently, “You are quite certain that you do not wish for me to accompany you?”

“No, darling,” she murmured and leaned over to kiss him on his forehead. “I appreciate your willingness to come with me, but I want to see him alone.”

He released her hand reluctantly and watched as she left the room with her usual grace.

“How is Father doing, Jane?” Mary asked solemnly, and Mrs. Bingley shook her head and said, “Mr. Jones visited him half an hour ago and says that our father will likely die within the next few hours.”

Kitty burst into tears at this stark statement, while Lydia looked genuinely stricken. Jane hurried over to embrace Kitty, and Darcy turned anxious eyes on Mrs. Bennet. To his relief, the lady, while obviously sorrowful, did not seem on the verge of hysterics.

“Poor Mr. Bennet,” his mother-in-law said with a sad shake of her head.

“He has suffered so much of late, and now to be stricken again with an apoplexy? I can only be thankful that you three girls are all married, and as much as it grieves me that we will lose Longbourn, at least we will not be entirely impoverished!”