Page 38 of The Happiness of a Most Beloved Sister (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

T he day following Darcy’s outburst at the Bennet table dawned sleepily with a layer of mist hovering over the fields.

The soft lowing of cattle could be heard in the distance, as well as the cheerful twitter of songbirds, easing the world awake with nature’s melody. The day seemed in no hurry to begin.

Darcy, by contrast, had been pacing about the library since not long after sunrise, eagerly anticipating the earliest possible hour he could present himself at Longbourn.

He might have experienced some trepidation at the prospect of facing the Bennets again were it not for the prospect of seeing Elizabeth, his newly betrothed— betrothed !

He could hardly believe it. After so many months of suspense, of longing, Elizabeth was finally his. More than a mere acceptance of his hand, she loved him in return. He had always known himself to be wealthy, but until she had promised to marry him he had never felt so rich.

“Ahem.”

Heeding this subtle beckoning, Darcy halted in the middle of the carpet and turned towards the doorway. Bingley was framed within its confines, hands clasped behind him and bouncing anxiously on his toes.

“I had hoped to have a word with you, if you are at leisure.”

Darcy was unused to hearing his friend speak so formally, but then this promised to be an awkward sort of conversation. They had avoided one another since adjourning to Netherfield the evening before, but it seemed they could not escape the necessity forever.

Although Bingley was the master, it was Darcy who swept his hand in welcome. “Come in. Sit.”

Bingley thanked him and crossed the threshold but did not take up a chair.

Instead, he wandered about the room, delaying the start of their dialogue in favour of inspecting the various items scattered about the seating area.

He would occasionally pick one up, hold it thoughtfully, then put it down again before finding another.

He was no more at ease than Darcy, it seemed.

Tiring quickly of his friend’s fidgets, Darcy prodded, “You wished to speak to me about something?”

Bingley grimaced, a ceramic statuette in hand, and at last got down to business.

“Quite. I…I wished to apologise to you for what occurred last evening. I have spoken to Jane about how she behaves towards Miss Elizabeth—I swear I have—but she must have…um…forgotten. Or been overcome. You know how women are, always puffed about by some unfathomable emotion or another.”

“It is not I who am owed an apology but Elizabeth.”

Bingley’s nose wrinkled a moment. “Of course. I shall offer her my regrets also. And ensure that Jane does as well,” he added hurriedly.

“Very good.” Darcy nodded. “Was there anything else?”

“Ah, yes. One other thing.” Bingley swallowed, then cleared his throat.

Shifted from foot to foot. Just as Darcy was about to bark at him to get to the point, he said, “I do hope that this, ah, unpleasantness between sisters will not damage our relationship going forwards. I would hate to lose you as a friend.”

Ah, so that is his concern—losing my esteem and, by extension, my patronage in society. No doubt his sisters would never forgive him for hurting their standing.

Darcy thought he might be injured by the near-admission that Bingley’s friendship was as shallow as Miss Bennet’s affections, but in all honesty he was simply weary of it all.

Over the past six months, his respect for Bingley had been slowly and steadily waning, beginning with his realisation that his concern over his friend’s heart had been wasted.

Bingley had never sought a deep connexion with his future wife, and while that was his prerogative, Darcy was forced to admit being disappointed in him.

From there, Bingley’s persuadable nature, which Darcy had previously believed he might grow out of one day, had led him to mimic Miss Bennet’s stance towards Elizabeth and emulate her contemptuous behaviour.

It proved him weak and cowardly, and Darcy was ashamed of him.

That said, a family rift was not to be taken lightly, especially given his own visibility in society.

If Darcy refused to receive his old chum because of his wife, people would wonder why, and that would inevitably lead to vicious rumours, especially when the ton discovered that Mrs Bingley was Mrs Darcy’s sister.

It would be better to erect a veneer of harmony—which was no less than he did for Lady Catherine—and tolerate the Bingleys when he and Elizabeth could not avoid them.

With that in mind, he replied, “I cannot say that there will not be some distance between us, for I believe such is unavoidable, but I shall not go so far as to cut you and yours in town.

As for any true intimacy, I leave that up to the discretion of my future wife, whose felicity and comfort are mine to ensure.

Should she wish to see her sister, I shall not deny her, but it will be entirely up to Elizabeth to decide how often that will occur.

“However,” he continued, narrowing his eyes at Bingley and firming his expression, “if your wife—or sisters, for that matter—treat Elizabeth with anything less than the deference owed to her as Mrs Darcy, there will be hell to pay. I shall no longer receive you. I shall instruct others to follow my example. I shall, in short, ruin you in polite society should you fail to curb their animus towards her. Am I rightly understood?”

Bingley swallowed deeply. Hoarsely, he replied, “Yes. Perfectly understood.”

“Excellent.” Darcy consulted his watch. It was still too early for a polite call, but as he was now engaged, his impatience to see Elizabeth could be readily forgiven. Besides, he had to speak to her father and apologise to her mother—for his conduct, if not his message—as well.

He snapped his watch closed and slid it back into his pocket as he strode towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I am off to Longbourn. You are free to come with me if you like.”

Bingley scurried after him like an enthusiastic pup.

“So he did not tease you at all? I must admit, I am rather disappointed.”

Darcy grinned down at Elizabeth, who clung to his arm with both of hers as they perambulated about the rose garden.

They had only just passed the stone bench where he had proposed, and he was overcome with pleasant memories.

“Why should your father tease me when you are doing such an admirable job of it?”

Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy could swear he heard birds twittering in response. “Because keeping your pride in check is too large a job for a single person! Your head could swell up, and you might float away, and then where would I be?”

“Up a tree, for I shall require your assistance to get back down.”

They both chuckled at this whimsical bit of farce, Elizabeth resting her forehead against his shoulder as if overcome by mirth.

The most onerous portion of Darcy’s visit had already been concluded some half an hour ago, leaving the openly engaged couple to simply bask in one another’s company.

He had approached Mr Bennet in his book-room almost immediately after greeting Elizabeth and requested permission to marry the man’s second daughter.

This was readily granted, and Darcy thought Mr Bennet somewhat chagrined when he did so, for he also received a slight apology for the scene at the dinner table the night before.

He supposed even as idle a father as Mr Bennet could not fail to acknowledge how ‘regrettably’ his wife and eldest child had acted.

Darcy would have used stronger terms—execrable, horrid, beyond the pale—to describe what had occurred, but there was no call to belabour the point.

Having obtained that which he sought from the patriarch, Darcy then proceeded to beard the matriarch in her den.

She sat in her favourite parlour with all five of her daughters—plus Bingley—arranged about her and gave him a distinct cut when he entered the room.

Her demeanour experienced an immediate revolution when Mr Bennet announced Darcy’s engagement to Elizabeth.

Such a shriek he had never heard—and hoped to never experience again—in his life.

Blessedly, it was a cry of exultation and not outrage.

Although Darcy had immediately begun begging her pardon for his previous discourtesy, Mrs Bennet had waved his contrition away with her lace handkerchief, declaring, “What is a little row compared to ten thousand a year? You are heartily forgiven, sir, I assure you. Oh, Lizzy, how grand you will be!”

Darcy had winced at the crass recitation of what Mrs Bennet expected Elizabeth to receive as Mrs Darcy—though she was bound to be disappointed by his inability to obtain a special licence to be married by—but it was at least better than suffering her enduring hostility.

Elizabeth herself appeared bewildered and then diverted by her mother’s outburst, and he found himself bewitched by the glimmer in her eye.

As for Miss Bennet, she sat silently next to Bingley on an adjoining sofa, her face puckered in badly disguised belligerence.

She muttered a congratulations to Elizabeth when nudged by her betrothed but otherwise said nothing.

In general, Darcy found it easy to overlook her as they enjoyed the more sincere well wishes pouring in from the rest of the family .

After some congratulatory refreshments and a great deal of effusive wedding planning on the part of Mrs Bennet—who seemed to think they would wait the better part of a year to enable her to arrange a lavish celebration, another thing Darcy would have to disabuse her of—Elizabeth had grasped his hand and declared them going out for a walk.

After the noise and busyness of the parlour, walking with Elizabeth through the roses was heaven.

Until a devil disguised as an angel rounded the corner on her betrothed’s arm.

Darcy halted immediately upon spotting Miss Bennet and Bingley enter the garden. They were approaching at a steady clip as if they meant to intercept.

Disinclined to disrupt the peace they presently enjoyed, Darcy said to Elizabeth, “You promised earlier to show me the hermitage. I think now is as good a time as any.”

But Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “No, they have already seen us. I would not wish to be uncivil.”

“It is no less than how she treated you.”

She pursed her lips at him, and Darcy sensed this was an expression he was fated to see a great deal of in the coming years. “All the more reason not to descend to such behaviour.”

“You are correct, no matter how aggrieved I am by it.”

“You ought to get used to the feeling.”

No sooner had Darcy huffed a dry laugh at her rejoinder than they were beset by the intruders. Bingley, ever ready to put others at ease, greeted them with good cheer, while Miss Bennet merely nodded.

After some stilted small talk, Bingley blurted, “What say we give the ladies some time to themselves, eh, Darcy? I am sure they have wedding things to discuss that we gentlemen would only be in the way of.”

Darcy clutched Elizabeth closer to him and glared at Miss Bennet. Her face remained impassive under this unfriendly scrutiny. “There will be plenty of time for that when we return to Netherfield. For now, I prefer to stay with Elizabeth.”

Bingley, apparently having not expected him to refuse, stumbled over his next words. “Well, ah…that is…”

“I should like to speak to my sister,” Miss Bennet interjected. “Privately.”

“Absolutely not?—”

A staying hand on his clenched fist drew Darcy’s attention to Elizabeth, who was staring at her sister with admirable calm. “Very well. For a few minutes.”

“But—”

Turning her attention to him, Elizabeth favoured Darcy with a reassuring smile that shone like sunlight. “Fitzwilliam, do go and wait for me on the stone bench. I promise I shall not be long.”

The invocation of his given name made him her willing slave. He submitted, reluctantly. “Very well, but do not go far.”

“You have my word to stay on the lawn. Afterwards, I shall take you to the hermitage if you like.” She lowered her voice to a whisper to add, “There are some choice hiding places there that cannot be seen from the house.” She winked at him, and Darcy grew hot under the collar.

Pressing a kiss to Elizabeth’s hand, Darcy released her and made to depart. As he passed Miss Bennet, he paused a moment to growl in her ear, “If you upset her in any way, you will have me to answer to.”

Miss Bennet coolly nodded in response, and he left with Bingley, swearing to himself that he would be back in a moment should Elizabeth need him.