Page 36 of Mrs Darcy’s Dilemma

“Indeed I could not!” said Cloe, laughing a little in her embarrassment.

“He has made me so very happy. There is nobody like him—so clever, and so kind—I am the happiest creature in the world.” She was unable to find anything better than the most threadbare words, but her face was expressing her feelings.

“If only I can be sure that I will not disgrace you. I fear what people will say about Henry marrying his cousin, with no money, and such connections—the more so, because it is all true.”

“That must never be mentioned between us again, my dear. I daresay we may receive a vituperative letter on the subject from Lady Catherine, but we are used to that, on our own account, and can endure it. I was a poor girl when I came to Pemberley, you know, and I flatter myself it has done Mr. Darcy no harm, only good. Love is not found in a market; I want to see my son happy. And your relations—why, please to remember, they are mine, too. My only regret is that we cannot give Georgiana an excellent governess, but her loss, by our acquisition of a delightful daughter, seems a fair bargain. Oh, yes, Darcy and I are vastly contented—and a contented mind, you know, must be a continual feast.”

September was the month fixed upon for the two weddings; the Darcys did not wish to part with their daughter before she had quite turned eighteen, but even with this delay, Lord and Lady Frederick’s marriage was the first celebrated of the two, for Henry wished to execute some additional building at Manygrove before bringing his bride home, and the young Nevilles were established at their seat in Cheshire quite three weeks before Henry and Cloe drove off from Pemberley Church, all smiles.

Wickham and Lydia were invited to Pemberley on the occasion, with all their children, and if Wickham took more of an interest in Mr. Darcy’s excellent wine than in his daughter’s happiness, he kept quiet, at any rate, and left any offensiveness of manner to his wife.

Her loud and urgent exclamations of pride in her daughter, and her wish of being very often at Manygrove, in the near vicinity of Pemberley, were directed with many a hopeful look at her sister Elizabeth, who did not acknowledge these hints.

Christmas was celebrated with great festivity at Pemberley, with a dance that served as the occasion upon which Jeremy Bingley first noticed that he was becoming infatuated with the young woman who would, before long, become his wife.

She was a connection of the Nevilles and a girl of character, strong-minded enough, despite her youth, to require that he become less trifling, and he did become tolerably domestic, a source of pleasure and pride to his parents, rather than a trial.

He was no very solid character, but he was very fond of his wife, and being so much in company with his new family, superior people as they were, and making frequent visits to his cousins, who neither gambled nor gadded about, did much to steady him.

The Darcys had another source of joy in the return from India of Mr. Darcy’s favourite cousin, General Fitzwilliam, which happened that winter; he came home with a bride of his own, the handsome and sprightly widow of a fellow-officer.

They lived chiefly in London and made many visits to all their welcoming relations, in Derbyshire, and in Cheshire, and in Kent.

They were contented to be back in England, and neither of them being young, and both good-natured, they could wait with perfect patience and philosophy for the day when Rosings should fall to them, never wishing for it to occur one moment earlier than was natural.

There was one occasion on which the Pemberley family indulged in some gadding about, for soon after the cousins’ marriages, the Darcys accompanied the two young couples to London, and there they enjoyed the social season as fully as Jane could ever have desired.

Fitzwilliam was not a part of the party on this occasion; having achieved his wishes of being taken by carriage and chair to attend the Newmarket races, to his fullest satisfaction, he was content to stay quietly at home with the Clarkes and travel no more.

Without a care on her mind, therefore, Mrs. Darcy presented the two young married ladies at Court, in their bridal dresses, with myrtle and white roses in their hair, and if they whispered to one another about Queen Victoria’s smallness and plainness, no one heard them.

Jane had such a sweet smile from the girl who was so close to her in age that she concluded that she was quite good-natured and not proud at all, for a Queen.

“I hope she will find someone to marry, and be as happy as we are,” she earnestly told Cloe.

They did not see Bettina, either at the theatre or in the dashing drawing-rooms and sporting salons to which she was admitted, and if one or two ill-natured people asked if it was true that the actress was a relation, Mrs. Darcy replied in the affirmative with a distant blandness that soothed her uncomfortable niece.

Bettina was successful and prosperous; there was no winning her from her wicked ways, and Cloe only wished that she might not have as painful a decline as she felt she must eventually suffer.

For herself, she rejoiced in every happiness, in her marriage to a man whose mind was so fully in concert with her own, that she hoped that they would be as happy a couple as her aunt and her husband had always been and still were, even in the modern Victorian age that was opening upon Pemberley.

THE END