Page 57 of The Countess and Her Sister

They had walked together for a short while the day before in Gretna, and though they only talked of the upcoming unions of their friends, there had been an unspoken question in his eyes that she had forestalled his giving voice to, for the moment had seemed quite wrong.

But today, in the crisp, cool sunshine of a safe and serene new place – today felt utterly and perfectly right.

Lady Susan insisted on taking the other two brides to the dress shop in Dumfries that Mrs. Ferguson had recommended, and Jane was the only lady of their party not eager to join in the fun of choosing wedding clothes.

“I daresay you shall have enough compliments on whatever gown you choose, with Mamma and our aunt and sisters with you,” Jane told Elizabeth with an apologetic smile.

“I should like to have a day or two where I do not even set eyes on a carriage – I hope you understand.”

“You may be subjected to Lydia and Kitty choosing something criminally over-trimmed for you to wear at my wedding,” Elizabeth teased her. “But I shall not press you – though I may hint that you have other reasons to remain here.”

And so she did. Mr. Darcy encouraged them all to explore the grounds at leisure after they broke their fast. Mr. Tilney remained pensive, his high spirits dampened since hearing of his brother’s demise, but after penning a letter to his sister in Bath, he was entreated to accompany Mr. Darcy, Richard, and Sir Edward on an invigorating ride across the sweeping meadows of Blaeloch.

Mr. Bingley declined to join them, when Jane asked him to instead accompany her and Thomas on a stroll down to the lake.

She allowed Hannah and Thomas to look after the lad, and watched with satisfaction as they sailed paper boats in a shallow area that pooled over colorful stones.

Mr. Bingley led Jane to a bench on a shaded hill that would afford them a fine view, and he sat back in a relaxed pose, leaning against a tree trunk on a small blanket he had brought along.

Jane sat beside him, her legs crossed beneath her skirts, and she stared out at the idyllic scenery and the pleasant sight of her son making merry.

“With such views as these, I believe I shall be glad to return to country life; London might as well be a thousand miles away,” she mused with a sigh of contentment.

“You sound like Darcy,” he chided her. “Do you suppose you shall not often visit town, now that you have made Matlock more your own?”

“My sisters will all have their seasons, and Georgiana, too – and Mamma says that the ton will want to have a look at the new Mrs. Darcy, for we did not attend enough parties this spring to satisfy their curiosity. But it all feels so far away; I can think only of the present, now that time has slowed down properly.”

He gave her a sad smile. “It must have been agony for you, all those hours locked up and terrified.”

“It all happened so quickly, and even the following day I felt my heart was still racing. Ah, but there is something infinitely soothing about a summer’s day in the country. I should probably offend every Scot alive by saying that it reminds me of Hertfordshire, but it is a welcome feeling.”

“As if time is passing slower, and we have not a care in the world,” Mr. Bingley agreed, gazing out at the fluffy white clouds that were mirrored in the still blue lake, and the verdure of everything in full bloom around them.

“Even the air smells sweeter.”

“I thought that was you,” he said with a smile. He plucked a wildflower and offered it to her. “I wanted to be the one to rescue you. I was mad with envy that Darcy would have the honor, or Richard and Sir Edward. But I like it even better that you rescued yourself. You are remarkable, Lady Jane.”

She smiled down at the buttercup, cradling it in her bare hands.

“Modesty may compel me to deny it, but I have never thought so well of myself as I have begun to do since two days ago. The experience taught me that I am capable of far more than I had imagined. I have never known such a challenge, though I have been inclined to make you submit to many.”

“Dare I ask if I have proven myself worthy?”

“You have,” she said, setting aside the flower to take his hand.

“I have tested you and put you through every imaginable tribulation, and you have borne it like no other gentleman in England would. But I have been tested as well, since I was taken from Matlock, and I find that what I have learned in this has been the greatest of comforts, which I never knew I required.”

Mr. Bingley looked at her, smiling sadly as his eyes searched hers. “You mean that while you have wished to see that I could be the sort of man to take care of you, have found that you are quite capable of being your own protector.”

“Well, yes,” she said. “But it does not follow that I should always wish to be. I have learned to look at marriage as more of a matter of the heart than I had ever considered prudent in my situation. I have a loving and loyal family, the dutiful Mr. Darcy is to be my brother, and I need never fear for Thomas or the needs of the earldom. And I have myself, in a way that was perhaps lost to me for many years. Whatever else the future may hold, I believe it shall be a pleasure, above all else.”

“And what pleasures do you imagine the future shall hold, since you are not to marry over the anvil like all of our friends?” There was a hint of his true meaning in these words, perhaps even a wistful trace of envy.

At the water’s edge, Thomas laughed with Hannah and Johnny, and Mr. Bingley looked on with unabashed fondness. Jane tugged at his hand to reclaim his attention, and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I imagine I shall marry a man of lively disposition that can animate even my natural reserve. A man who is perfectly capable of offering me everything I ever dreamt of, but whose affection and easy manners are the greatest of his gifts. Being more than adequately provided for already, I shall have the very good fortune of at last marrying for love.”

Mr. Bingley entwined his fingers with hers, their faces brushing as he looked over at Jane. “My lady, are you proposing to me?”

For a moment Jane feared she had unmanned him by not waiting for him to ask her, but in his gaze was only complete adoration. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then brushed his lips over her forehead. “I believe it is customary to swoon after accepting such a fine proposal.”

Mr. Bingley sagged backward, until he was lying down, and Jane did likewise, still holding his hand as they stared up at the canopy of greenery above them. “So, will you accept my hand, Charles?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss her forehead again.

Jane smiled and tilted her face up until her lips met his.

He kissed her chastely, and cast a wary gaze at where her son played with the servants.

“It is all right,” she whispered. “We are not so indecent, and I should hope he shall perceive that there is affection between his parents, having experienced the reverse.”

“He will know that I adore you both,” Mr. Bingley said before giving Jane another quick kiss. “Shall we join our friends over the anvil?”

“No, indeed not,” Jane said with a cheerful laugh.

“Three weddings in a day is quite enough for poor Mr. Ferguson! No, I wish to do everything properly this time, as it ought to be. We shall have the banns called after we return to Derbyshire, and everything done in open celebration. I will show my neighbors that I am proud of this fine man, my husband, who has utterly won my heart.”

“I think I shall rather enjoy having such a commanding wife,” he laughed. “I love you so, Jane.”

“I have loved you, I think, since the evening we met,” she admitted. “And I am not frightened of it anymore.”

***

It was the finest summer day anybody could recall when Elizabeth Bennet married Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam married Henry Tilney, and Lady Susan Vernon married Richard Fitzwilliam.

Mrs. Ferguson arranged an elegant outdoor breakfast on the green in front of the smithy, the tables all festooned with flowers and the buffet laden with delicacies.

They had the unusual distinction of sharing their wedding with a pair of strangers who arrived at the smithy to elope. Sir Rolland Moore, a lean man in his middle forties, and Lady Margaret Crestone, a woman in her late thirties, had travelled for days to wed over the anvil.

“It must seem mad, at our age,” she laughed.

“We have both just come out of mourning, and when we met at a ball in London, we decided to do what we had attempted twenty years ago. We were set to run away together the summer I turned eighteen, but my maid betrayed my plans to my father, who wished me to wed a viscount. But I never stopped thinking of my Rolly.”

The older man gazed at his lady like a lovesick puppy. “Fate has given us a second chance, and so here we are, at last.”

Mrs. Ferguson made quite a fuss over them, calling their story a great fairy tale, and the three brides invited the other pair of newlyweds to share in their celebration. Lady Augusta wept with joy over the three happy couples, and Jane and Mr. Bingley soon to follow.

The fears that Elizabeth had confided when they planned the wedding were eased by the days she spent at Blaeloch.

She considered her aunt’s advice and found there was much to look forward to in beginning her new life as Mrs. Darcy.

There was no room for anything beyond hope and elation in her heart as Elizabeth exchanged vows with the man she loved, and a sense of rightness at how it had all turned out.

Elizabeth drank champagne and danced with her friends and relations until the late hour when the sun finally set, and she was shown into her husband’s carriage amidst the echoes of laughter and congratulation that filled the cool night air.

The whole party returned to Blaeloch, where the festivities continued long into the night, though the newlyweds all retired early.

The Darcys, Fitzwilliams, and Tilneys all agreed to remain in Scotland a fortnight more, and explore the area as a sort of shared wedding trip.

The rest of their party returned to Derbyshire and announced Jane’s engagement to the neighborhood, and then Lady Augusta and Lady Gardiner began planning an elaborate wedding celebration.

The newlyweds all returned from their Scottish sojourn in time for the wedding, though they still faced the unpleasant conundrum of what to do with those who conspired against them.

It was the first order of business for Mr. Darcy, after acclimating Elizabeth to her new home and ravishing her in every room of Pemberley.

Mrs. Bennet was dispatched with. Lady Augusta found a particularly severe old widow to attend Mrs. Bennet in Ramsgate; the old harridan was reminded to consider her behavior carefully, as the possibility of Bedlam would ever remain in their minds.

A few days after their return, Richard and Henry went to Kent, where they managed to secure a signed confession from Lady Catherine and General Tilney, who feared the public scandal and legal repercussions they were threatened with.

Richard presented the document to Mr. Darcy for safekeeping, should their aunt set about any further mischief.

He also secured a concession from the General, who would within a year’s time quit Northanger entirely to reside with his wife at Rosings Park.

They were to stay in Kent, and warned against ever being in London or any other place at the same time as their relations.

Rebecca confided to her sisters that she was glad that her husband’s possession of his family estate was not immediate, for she, too, found it hard to part with her chaotic, affectionate family.

The Tilneys decided to rent Montrose from Jane, and entertained Richard and Lady Susan there as their guests, until Bingley wed Jane and moved to Matlock, shooing Miss Bingley and the Hursts back to London, and returning Cameron Court to Richard and his bride.

By the day of Jane and Charles Bingley’s wedding, the villains who had plagued them were long forgotten.

The horrors of her first marriage and the grief of mourning were shed for good when the young dowager countess became Jane Bingley.

She was a radiant bride, this time, in the home she had made her own, in the arms of a man who wanted nothing from Jane but her whole, healed, and happy heart.

There was perhaps a little playful argument betwixt the four young couples on that merry afternoon, for they each believed themselves to be the most contented, the most well-suited, and certainly the most fortunate.

But before they could make any wagers or give in to wine-drunk mischief, Lady Augusta assured all four of her children that they were all utterly right.

And indeed, all was right in the world for them, for many years to come.