Page 41 of The Fire at Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Bingley’s carriage

On the road to London

The carriage rattled down the road towards Town. Inside, four people sat in silence.

Lydia stared out the window, watching the scenery roll by without really seeing it.

She was still in shock from the events of two nights ago, and she became shaky and panicky when she thought of them in detail.

For all that she had realized Wickham was a scoundrel despite his handsome face, she had never expected him to actually attack and attempt to kill her!

Last night, she had woken, crying, from a nightmare where his hands were wrapped about her throat, and Lizzy had not come in time.

Lydia was well aware that she owed her life to her sister – Wickham would certainly have throttled her otherwise.

She had not been strong enough to throw him off, just as she had not been strong enough to resist his wily charms.

But she had learned her lesson. No more would she seek to marry young.

She knew now that she might, perhaps, choose not to marry at all.

Certainly she would not before she was thoroughly acquainted with any hopeful gentleman’s character.

She had never dreamed that any man would perpetuate such violence against a lady, and her discovery to the contrary had shaken her badly.

She swallowed and suppressed a wince. She was always hyper-aware of the marks on her neck, to the point it was difficult not to think of them constantly.

She was grateful that a scarf could cover them, and she was more grateful yet to be going to Town where she would not be surrounded by the stares and whispers of the folks she had grown up among.

Beside him, Mr. Bennet could feel his youngest daughter’s tension.

He patted her arm briefly where it rested in her lap, but his gaze did not move from his Lizzy, hand in hand with Mr. Darcy next to her.

Part of him ached at the knowledge that he would soon lose his cleverest daughter to the grand estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire, but the predominant emotion in his breast was that of gratitude.

In so short a time he had very nearly lost so much – wife and middle daughter to the fire that had claimed his books and part of his home, and his youngest daughter to a vile and violent man.

Looking back to the time before the fire, it seemed a different life, lived by a different man.

By some miracle, by the grace of the Almighty, he had not lost any of his family to death.

And he could only be grateful that he was losing his two eldest daughters to marriage with good men, who would love them dearly.

Now all that remained was to be the best husband and father he could be to his wife and the three daughters who still remained beneath what was left of his roof.

Darcy’s thumb stroked across the back of her hand, and Elizabeth felt herself glowing with pleasure.

Even through the layers of both their gloves, she could feel the strength in his fingers that he had so generously put to work in her family’s service of late.

She was still amazed that he loved her; amazed and deliriously happy.

She was looking forward to spending time with him in Town.

They would have a few weeks while her face and Lydia’s throat healed up, before returning to Meryton for a double wedding where they would stand beside Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Any talk about Wickham would vanish like smoke among the wildfire of gossip the weddings would cause.

The house at Longbourn would be repaired by then too, with enough room for her parents and remaining sisters to dwell there once again.

She returned the gesture across her beloved’s knuckles, well-content.

Darcy stole another sidelong look at Elizabeth’s profile.

The bruised side of her face was turned away from him, for which he was grateful; the sight of the purple marks filled him with smoldering rage.

He did not regret Wickham’s death, not at all.

Now his Elizabeth – his Elizabeth! – was safe, and she had accepted his hand and his heart.

Soon they would be wed, alongside her sister and Bingley.

He had much to be grateful to Bingley for, he thought.

Though Bingley was less experienced in the ways of the world and had always looked up to him, it was the younger man who had been the wiser in this area.

It had been Bingley who had cut through the blinding chaff of the priorities of wealth and connections and status to the heart of the matter – character, and compatibility, and delight in one’s life-companion.

His own connections would be less than pleased.

His uncle, the Earl of Matlock, would grumble and growl, and his wife would be primly disapproving.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh would be absolutely enraged with him.

Darcy stared at Elizabeth again, and this time she noticed his attention and smiled back.

He took a moment to admire her bright smile and the spark in her eye.

He could not find it in himself to care; let his relations grumble and gnash their teeth.

The incident the other night, where he had come so close to losing his Elizabeth, had demonstrated sharply that she was far more important to him than the opinions and desires of his arrogant relations.

He no longer harbored any qualms on behalf of his sister, either.

He had wealth and connections enough to stand Georgiana in good stead at her launch.

Elizabeth had something else to offer, something wonderful.

She was bright and vivacious and clever and confident, and shy Miss Darcy could only benefit from her company.

Darcy eagerly looked forward to introducing the two most important women in his life to one another.

/

London

Five days later

The journey from Darcy House to the Gardiners’ home in Cheapside had, in the past five days, become a common one, as Darcy could not bear to let a day go by without visiting the lady who would soon be his bride.

The hours spent with Elizabeth had been wonderful, though only too short, since Darcy also had to arrange for marriage settlements with Mr. Bennet, as well as work with the servants at Darcy House to prepare for their new mistress.

To his great relief, Elizabeth’s face had healed quickly in the last days.

While her cheek and eye were still bruised, the swelling had gone down enough that, with the judicious help of cosmetics, the injury was not obvious.

Not that he cared overly about the bruising, but it was best that there be no wagging tongues over Elizabeth’s injuries.

A soft sigh across from him drew his attention, and Darcy turned his attention on his sister, who was seated next to her companion, Mrs. Annesley.

“My dear sister, you will love Elizabeth,” he assured the girl.

Georgiana was twisting her handkerchief in her gloved hands, and she said, “I only hope that she will like me in return, Brother.”

“She will,” Darcy assured her, and he reached out one long arm to pat his sister’s knee. “I promise you that you will find Elizabeth a very comfortable person.”

“I hope so,” the girl replied, though her expression remained uncertain.

Darcy smiled at her, confident that even his shy sister would find herself at ease with his beloved Elizabeth.

/

Gardiners’ House

Cheapside

Elizabeth finished spreading the cosmetics on her left cheek and tilted her head, regarding her image in the mirror with disapproval.

It had been a surprise to discover that her Aunt Gardiner had an older friend who was skilled in using cosmetics, but a welcome one since they were all eager to hide her bruises.

However, actually using the paints and rouges effectively was harder than it looked.

“Lydia?” she said, turning toward her youngest sister. “Can you please help me?”

Lydia, who was adding lace to a bonnet, jumped to her feet, hurried over to inspect Elizabeth’s face, and then she said, “Do sit still, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth obediently sat very still indeed as her sister’s clever fingers spread out the paint a little more, and then added a little rouge to both cheeks. When Lydia had worked her magic, Elizabeth turned back toward the mirror and nodded in approval. “It is beautiful, Lyddy. Thank you.”

She had never used cosmetics before, of course, being blessed with a young, fresh, and beautiful complexion, but given that Miss Darcy was visiting today, it was best that her injury be concealed as best as possible.

Tomorrow Mrs. Gardiner would be escorting Elizabeth and Lydia to a dressmaker’s shop, and the next day to a milliner, so it was important that the cosmetics be applied well.

Lydia, thankfully, had proven to be an immediate adept.

“Am I all right?” Lydia asked in return, and Elizabeth stood up and walked over to inspect her youngest sister carefully.

The ladies of the house had, in the past few days, added high collars to Lydia’s dresses in order to conceal the ugly bruises around her neck, which were now a virulent mix of greens and yellows.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said simply, and kissed her sister carefully on the cheek. “We should go downstairs soon, as Mr. and Miss Darcy are planning to arrive here by ten o’clock.”

Lydia nodded, but there was a peculiar expression on her face, and Elizabeth said, “Is something wrong?”

The girl hesitated, gulped, and then said, “Lizzy, is there any chance ... might I be permitted to sleep in here with you this night? I keep having the most dreadful dreams...”

Elizabeth stared at her youngest sister for a moment and her hopeful expression. She bit her lip before asking, “You too?”

“Oh!” Lydia cried out. “Are you having…?”

“Nightmares, yes,” Elizabeth replied, as she carefully blotted her brimming eyes in order to avoid disturbing the cosmetics. “I … I do not know why, exactly. I mean, I do know; you were very nearly killed, and that is terribly distressing. But I also sometimes…”

She trailed off and Lydia prompted, “Sometimes?”

“I dream of that sound, Lyddy,” she said and swallowed hard. “That sound when the brick hit Wickham’s head. I do not regret hitting him, certainly not! I had to, in order to save your life. But oh, that horrible sound…”

She shuddered and was surprised when her younger, taller sister moved forward to wrap her in a firm embrace. “It was terrible,” Lydia whispered into her ear. “Absolutely terrible, all of it.”

“It was,” Elizabeth replied, returning the embrace with fervor, “and yes, I would very much like to share a bed. I expect both of us will sleep better.”

For a full minute, the sisters clung to one another. When Lydia finally stood back, both girls were crying, which prompted a screech of distress from the younger Bennet at the effect on Elizabeth’s face.

“Sit down and let me repair that,” she ordered, and Elizabeth obeyed. A minute later, the girls walked out the door to greet their guests, feeling closer than they ever had.

/

Dressmaker’s Shop

Meryton

“Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet,” Mrs. Randall exclaimed, rushing forward to greet some of her favorite customers, “It is wonderful to see you today!”

“Mrs. Randall,” Mrs. Bennet replied, her face glowing in the morning light which poured through the window, “it is marvelous to see you as well. Have you heard the good news?”

Mrs. Randall had, of course, but she said, “What news, Mrs. Bennet?”

“Oh, about my Lizzy, to be sure! She is to marry Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, which is a grand estate in Derbyshire with an income of ten thousand pounds a year! It is absolutely astounding, it truly is! She is not as handsome as Jane, nor as accomplished as Mary, and somehow she won one of the most eligible gentlemen in all of England. I am so very happy!”

Mrs. Randall glanced at Jane, Mary, and Kitty Bennet, all of whom looked a trifle embarrassed at these words, and said, “That is truly wonderful news.”

“It is,” Jane said promptly. “Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are very well suited. Father wishes us to all buy a new gown for the weddings, which will be the week after Christmas, though if you cannot finish them in such a short time…”

“Oh, have no fear about that, Miss Bennet!” Mrs. Randall interrupted enthusiastically.

She thoroughly enjoyed making dresses for the Bennet ladies, who always paid their bills, and in addition, looked beautiful in everything she made for them.

Well, all but Miss Mary, but Mrs. Randall was of the opinion that the girl would look much prettier if she would but wear brighter colors.

“Mary,” Jane said, walking over to touch a bolt of cream colored silk fabric, “what do you think of this for your dress?”

Mary, whose arm was still bandaged and held in a sling, stared at her eldest sister in amazement and said, “Oh, I could not. ‘Tis far too dear!”

“Nonsense, Mary, nonsense!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Both Jane and Elizabeth are marrying wealthy men, and your father directed that we each purchase a new gown for the ceremony. And why should you not have a silk dress, when you saved my life?”

“You would look very well in that color,” the dressmaker assured her and Kitty said, “Oh, do, Mary! The wedding will be such a special occasion!”

Mary blushed and nodded at these words, her eyes fixed on the silk. It was a truly beautiful fabric, and she only hoped that she would not look absurd in such finery.