Page 29 of The Bennet Heir
Chapter Twenty-Eight
F or weeks after that infamous dinner party, it remained the primary topic of conversation at every gathering. No matter where they went, someone inevitably brought up the shocking events of that evening—Jonathan Bennet’s dramatic return, the revelation of Wickham’s crimes, and, most notably, the disgraceful behaviour of both Miss Bingley and Mrs. Bennet. The story of Mr. Collins was mentioned in passing, but it did not have the same allure as the rest. Some relayed these stories in hushed, scandalised whispers while others took delight in the sheer absurdity of it all, embellishing details with each retelling.
As a newly married couple, Darcy and Elizabeth were expected to attend an endless succession of celebratory teas and dinners. Since they had been unable to travel to London, Mrs. Gardiner had several dresses commissioned for Elizabeth, which were sent to Hertfordshire upon completion. The local seamstress made the final alterations, ensuring Elizabeth was well dressed for these engagements.
Although Elizabeth was more naturally inclined to socialise, even she grew weary of the constant attention and the ever-present curiosity about the events that had unfolded. Darcy, whose preference for quieter company was well known, endured these gatherings with stiff politeness, longing for the day when they could finally leave Meryton and so much company behind. He enjoyed the company of his new brother, but even that was, at times, more than he wished for.
One evening, after enduring yet another tedious dinner, Darcy exhaled heavily as he and Elizabeth climbed into their carriage. “If I must hear one more person recount the events of that evening with dramatic flourishes, I may be tempted to correct their errors—at great length,” he complained.
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Would that not encourage them further? You would be the source himself, and then they could claim their version is the most accurate.”
He groaned. “You are cruel, madam.”
To aid his desire to have his wife to himself, not long after Bingley’s departure from the area, the Darcys moved from their guest quarters at Longbourn to a larger suite at Netherfield. Though the estate was now theirs to manage, the master’s suite required thorough cleaning and some redecoration before it would be suitable for their use. Despite the relative brevity of the Bingleys’ stay, the condition of both the master and mistress’s chambers left much to be desired.
Miss Bingley had wasted no time asserting herself upon her arrival at Netherfield, promptly evicting her brother from his chambers, declaring them far better suited to her own use. Servants confided to Elizabeth that she had begun altering the décor to her personal taste—an ostentatious, overly elaborate style that clashed with the house’s refined elegance. Heavy draperies in clashing colours darkened the rooms, perfume-saturated upholstery made the air thick and cloying, and gaudy embellishments cluttered every available surface.
Upon inspecting the rooms, Elizabeth turned slowly in place, surveying the chaos. “This is… excessive,” she murmured, running a hand along the heavily embroidered fabric of a chair and eyeing its matching tapestry.
Darcy, standing beside her, arched a brow. “I believe that is the most generous description possible.”
Mrs. Nicholls, the housekeeper, huffed in agreement. “Miss Bingley was determined to impose her tastes, but I could not, in good conscience, allow her to remove the original furnishings.” She gestured towards the ceiling-high drapes. “These—I am certain they will make excellent dust cloths which is all they are good for.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to contain a laugh. “Then we shall set about restoring the suite to something more suitable. I should not like to stay here if I feel as though I am trapped within a perfumery.”
“Or a bawdy house,” Darcy muttered, causing Elizabeth to laugh.
With this agreement, Elizabeth wasted no time in overseeing the restoration of the rooms. The servants removed the worst of Miss Bingley’s additions, uncovering the more tasteful elegance that had once defined the suite. Elizabeth took great satisfaction in creating a comfortable and welcoming space, adding her own touches in their rooms. She intended for the estate to feel more like a home rather than a house marred by its previous occupant’s pretensions when she and Darcy visited in the future. The house needed additional changes in its more public areas, but those changes stemmed less from Miss Bingley’s taste and more from years without a permanent occupant.
After a fortnight more of tending to Netherfield’s affairs, Darcy decided that it was time to take his wife to Pemberley. For the last several weeks, Elizabeth and Georgiana had been exchanging letters, and both were eager to meet at last. Beyond his sister’s anticipation, Darcy himself longed to be home—with his wife. He was eager to show Elizabeth Pemberley, to walk its halls and grounds with her at his side, and to begin their life together in the place that would truly be their home.
Before they could depart, Darcy and Elizabeth had to take their leave of her family and friends. Though Darcy would readily admit that he would miss his new brother Bennet, this was far more difficult for Elizabeth. She was accustomed to the constant company of her sisters, and letters would be a poor substitute for their daily companionship.
“It is not the same,” she confided to Charlotte and Jane during one of their final walks through Meryton. “While I have been at Netherfield, I knew you were never far away. I could visit whenever I wished. But once we leave, I shall have only your letters, and, no matter how often we write, it will not be the same.”
Charlotte squeezed her sister’s arm. “No, it will not. But you will be happy, Lizzy; I can see it already. We shall visit you as soon as we are able.” Jane reiterated the same promise, having already been invited to come to Pemberley in the spring after the Darcys visited London for a few weeks of the Season.
Elizabeth nodded, forcing a smile. “I shall hold you to that promise. Both of you.”
Darcy, seeing her distress, assured her that they would travel to London at least once a year and would visit Netherfield during each trip. This mollified her somewhat, but it did not entirely ease the ache of parting.
The most difficult farewell, however, was with Grandmama Bennet. Though not precisely unwell, the elderly lady had grown steadily weaker over the past several years, and Elizabeth dreaded leaving her.
“You must take care of yourself, Grandmama,” Elizabeth said softly as she knelt by her grandmother’s favourite chair.
Grandmama Bennet smiled, pressing Elizabeth’s hands in her own. “You must not worry over me, child. You have a husband now, a fine home, and a new life waiting for you. Do not let thoughts of an old woman weigh you down.”
Elizabeth swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I shall always think of you, and I shall write often. You are the only mother I have ever known and the only parent I have left.”
“You had better write to me often,” Grandmama Bennet teased, her eyes shining with emotion. Then, with surprising strength, she squeezed Elizabeth’s hands once more. “You are my clever, headstrong girl, Lizzy. I have no doubt that you will be happy at Pemberley. Your handsome husband has promised that you will return soon, did he not?”
Nodding, Elizabeth embraced her tightly, whispering, “I love you, Grandmama.”
“And I you, my dear.”
As Elizabeth rose to her feet, Darcy, who had waited respectfully nearby, stepped forward. He bowed to the older woman and said with quiet sincerity, “I shall take good care of her, ma’am. You have my word.”
Grandmama Bennet regarded him carefully, then nodded. “See that you do, young man.”
With that, the farewell was complete, but as they left the house, Elizabeth could not help but look back once more. She committed the sight of her grandmother to memory, knowing that it might be the last time she saw her in this life.
As they departed, Elizabeth sat beside Darcy in the carriage, watching the countryside pass in a blur of greens and golds. The first day of the journey had been difficult, with Elizabeth still mourning the constant presence of her family in her life, but after sufficient time passed, she turned her attention away from what she was leaving behind, and began looking forward to what was ahead.
“I confess only to you, Fitzwilliam, that I am nervous to meet Georgiana,” she admitted on the second day of their journey north. “She has been nothing but kind in her letters, but what if she does not like me in person?”
They had been discussing Pemberley in detail when Elizabeth’s remark caught Darcy by surprise. He turned to look at her, his expression softening as he took in her face. She was teasing him—he could see it in her eyes—but he also knew her well enough to recognise that admitting even the smallest bit of nervousness hinted at a much deeper feeling.
Gently, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “That is impossible, Elizabeth. She already admires you, and once she meets you, she will love you as I do.”
Elizabeth smiled, squeezing his hand in response. “Then I shall endeavour to live up to your praise.” She leaned into him, and they resumed their previous conversation.
When they arrived late on the following day, Elizabeth could scarcely contain her astonishment at seeing her new home.
Pemberley was like nothing she had ever seen before. The house was large—easily twice the size of Netherfield and three times that of Longbourn. Despite its size, it did not impose upon the landscape; rather, it seemed an extension of the very hills and valleys that surrounded it, as though it had always been meant to be there. The grandeur of it was undeniable, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, Elizabeth felt something unexpected—she felt at home.
As she stepped from the carriage, she turned to her husband with a teasing smile. “I shall have to ask Mrs. Nicholls for some of Miss Bingley’s old drapes. A house of this size will need dust cloths aplenty.”
Darcy chuckled, tucking her hand into his arm as he escorted her inside. “Come, my love. Welcome home. Welcome to Pemberley.”
As anticipated, Georgiana had been delighted to meet her new sister. Though she had exchanged letters with Elizabeth for weeks, there remained a touch of shyness when they first stood face to face.
Elizabeth, sensing the younger girl’s unease, immediately set aside her own nerves. Stepping forward, she took Georgiana’s hands in hers and smiled warmly. “At last, we meet in person, Georgiana! Oh, I may call you Georgiana, may I not? I feel as though I already know you from our letters.”
Georgiana’s lips curved into a shy smile. “And I you. I—I am so pleased you are here, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Mrs. Darcy? No, no, that will not do at all. You must call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy, if you prefer.”
Georgiana hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Elizabeth, then.”
“Much better,” Elizabeth said with an approving nod. “Now, tell me, do you play the pianoforte as well as your brother claims? He has spoken of your talent often even if I suspect he may be biased. Or would you prefer to speak of drawing?”
Darcy, standing nearby, crossed his arms with a smirk. “I am never biased where Georgiana is concerned. She is objectively the finest musician in all of Derbyshire. But do not let her near anything with an embroidery needle.”
Georgiana blushed but giggled, her initial shyness fading at these teases.
Watching the interaction with satisfaction was Darcy’s great-aunt Rosalind Somerville. For years, she had believed Georgiana needed a friend, but like her great-nephew, she had few acquaintances who could provide one. Her own friends had grandchildren of the right age, but they lived too far from Derbyshire for an introduction to be practical.
However, as she observed Elizabeth and Georgiana together, she quickly realised that Darcy’s new wife was precisely what both siblings needed. It was plain to see that Elizabeth had already drawn Darcy out of his shell—never before had Rosalind seen her normally sombre nephew smile so often or so easily. Georgiana, who was usually reserved with strangers, had taken to Elizabeth almost instantly.
With a knowing smile, Rosalind turned to Darcy. “Well, Nephew, I do believe you have brought home the very best sort of wife. I have never seen you look so pleased.”
Darcy, watching Elizabeth and Georgiana talk, his expression soft with contentment, replied simply, “That is because I have never been so pleased as I am when I am with Elizabeth. She is everything I could have wished for in a wife and will be a remarkable mistress of my home.” He hesitated before correcting himself. “Of our home.”
Rosalind nodded. “Then I daresay all of Pemberley is the better for it. I believe I will like her very much. I will return to my home in the dower house tomorrow morning.”
“There is no need, Aunt,” Darcy objected. “I intend to spend the next week acquainting my wife with our estate, and Georgiana would appreciate your continued company, at least for another fortnight.”
After a moment of examining her nephew, and seeing the slightly pink tinge to his ears, she agreed to another fortnight in the main house. Inwardly, she laughed at seeing her nephew being teased, pleased that he had found a lively woman for his wife.