Page 27 of Searching for Elizabeth (A Pride and Prejudice Variation)
—later that evening—
Elizabeth Bennet’s small trunk, which William had recovered from the cottage, sat in the prettiest guest room of Netherfield. She unpacked her two clean dresses, putting on the forest green wool dress and hanging up the sprigged muslin in a wardrobe that looked even more enormous for its near emptiness.
She made a pile of clothes for Clara, the maid assigned to her, to take to be laundered.
The ripped petticoat was in its own, separate pile, meant for the ragman.
Mary had already put her own clothing into the room’s second wardrobe. She sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and she said, “You are going to need more clothes.”
Lizzy grinned.
“I suppose I should get a few new gowns. Maybe something nice enough to wear to my wedding.”
Her sister asked, “Did you and William set a date?”
“We intend to wed as soon as we are allowed, which is December 8.”
Mary said, “I am so very, very happy for you, Lizzy.”
Lizzy wondered if Mary was unhappy for herself, but Clara entered the room at that moment, picked up the clothing, and said, “Excuse me, but Mr. Darcy wants you to know that dinner is ready to be served.”
Mary hurried down the stairs and entered the drawing room before Lizzy. When Lizzy got there, she saw her sister whispering with William, and Lizzy tilted her head in question. Her betrothed turned to her, and, as he escorted both ladies into the dining room, he said, “It seems we have some errands to accomplish: Meryton’s dressmaker for as many gowns as they can churn out in six days, including a wedding dress; plus expresses sent to a London modiste with your measurements, to order additional gowns and for warm outer layers; plus orders of warm hats and boots from a London milliner and cobbler….”
William seated her, helped push her chair in, and asked, “Do you think that covers it?”
A bubbling laugh was all Lizzy could manage for a second or two, but then she said, “I hope that covers it! Good heavens, Will, I do not wish to marry you in order to spend all your money on flounces and furbelows! I believe it would behoove you to invest some of your money in various industries, so a terrible year, weather-wise, does not bring you down.”
William surprised her with a single loud guffaw. He said, “I think it is so interesting that you, although you are not even of age, have had no formal education, and as a gentlewoman have been taught to not worry about things like estates and industry and investments—but you still have more practical knowledge and better instincts than most university-educated men I discuss these sorts of matters with. I always meant to have you be part of the discussion of the marriage settlement, which is promised to arrive by special messenger tomorrow by noon, and then you will see where our money comes from and how well we can afford a bride’s trousseau.
“For now, however, I assure you that we have many investments in a diverse assortment of industries. And, yes, we will discuss further investments. Perhaps on days when you have not had to fight against a kidnapper.”
Mary’s eyes were wide, but she quipped, “Lizzy, I, for one, hope that many, many of your future days do not include you having to fight against a kidnapper!”
Lizzy gave them both a tired smile. The day already seemed to have lasted hours longer than most; however, she was hungry, and she applied herself to the artichoke soup and, later, the roasted venison.
Mary introduced light topics, but Lizzy paid little attention to the conversation. She was happy to note that her husband-to-be was as relaxed and witty with Mary as he was with her. With this particular sister, he did not seem to need the mask that he commonly wore around the rest of her family.
Finally, a rather more important topic was broached when William said that he would be writing to his relatives, informing them of the wedding date and location. Lizzy said, “Will any of your relatives come so far?”
“My sister, Georgiana, is currently in London with the Fitzwilliam family, my aunt and uncle and cousins. I imagine that all of them will come; that makes six relatives. I am positive that my other aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and her daughter Anne will not come, because they will be angry at the match.”
“Oh, dear,”
Lizzy said.
“This is the patroness of my cousin Mr. Collins, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And will she be angry because I turned down her parson? Or because I am not rich enough? Or too low class compared to you?”
“I am a gentleman; you are a gentleman’s daughter. In my eyes, at least, we are equal.”
Mary injected a few words: “In many people’s eyes, we are very decidedly beneath you in consequence.”
“At any rate,”
William explained, “the anger will largely be caused by the fact that I am marrying someone—anyone—other than my cousin Anne.”
“Ohhh,”
Lizzy said.
“I remember now; the soldier whose name I refuse to utter once told me that you were engaged to Anne de Bourgh. I believed him, but I suppose every syllable emerging from his face was a lie!”
The three finished their meal with an apple tart, and they soon moved into the drawing room. Mary excused herself on the grounds of mental exhaustion, leaving William and Lizzy alone in the room.
“We both have to be approximately a million times more exhausted than Mary,”
Lizzy murmured, wrapping her arms around William.
“And I hate the idea of you having to go off to the inn right now, after everything you have done today.”
“Remember my least proper brain bit,”
William murmured.
“I fear that the armed guards, the attack dogs, and perhaps even the piranhas are as tired as we are.”
“Oh, Will, when we are married, can we allow all the walls to be torn down, and have no metaphorical corners between us?”
“Lizzy,”
he whispered, stirring the curls near her ears, “I would like nothing better.”
The butler came to the open door, knocked once, and said in a respectful tone, “Smithson says that all is ready for the short ride to the inn, whenever you are ready, sir.”
“I had better go,”
William said.
“Yes,”
Lizzy responded.
Instead of leaving, he crushed her body to his, and he set his mouth on hers, and they shared a fierce kiss. It was an I-almost-lost-you sort of kiss, a life-is-too-fragile kiss that urged them to kiss while they still may. Lizzy felt like she could stay submerged in that kiss forever, but William somehow wrested control of his brain bits and stepped back, bowed to Lizzy, and said, “Until tomorrow”
before he fled the room.