Page 24 of The Painting (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
Hours passed and the night was still. Eventually, with her head leaning against the window, she kept slipping into a place between dreams and reality and startled when an unusual sound broke through the stillness.
She could hear a horse’s hooves. They stopped and she knew it must be Darcy.
She slowly unlocked the door, exited and locked it again, leaving the key just outside.
Then she tiptoed down the stairs in the strange house, trying to find the front door.
She was still wearing her day clothes, only a few rebel locks had escaped from their pins.
She waited for a moment but nobody entered, so she decided to go out and see if he was there.
“Miss Elizabeth?” On a chair in the corner sat Stevens, watching the door.
“I would like to go out, Stevens.”
“The master has arrived, miss. I spoke to him through the window. He said he was going swimming and would return shortly. You cannot go out at this hour, the master would not approve.”
“He would, I promise you. Stevens, I need to go out. Please.”
Reluctantly, the servant opened the door and she hurried through the unknown garden towards the beach .
She knew it was foolish, but she had to speak to him before she returned home and she knew there would be no other opportunity.
When she approached the shore, he was already in the water.
His coat and waistcoat, as well as his shoes, were lying on the beach, while he cut through the water with long, steady strokes.
When he saw her standing there, he immediately returned.
His wet clothes were sticking to his body and she gulped, trying not to look at him below the neck.
“Miss Bennet? What are you doing here? I asked Stevens to lock the door and watch it! Why are you not asleep?”
“I begged Stevens to let me out,” she whispered. “I wished to speak to you.”
He was now close enough that she could smell the saltiness of the sea on his body.
“And could you not wait until tomorrow?” he asked, with a smile that she did not remember seeing before.
“Tomorrow we will leave…We return to Longbourn.”
“Yes, I know,” he answered with a calmness that contrasted with her inner torment.
“I wished to tell you that I am very sorry to have caused you even more distress. I should have been more careful with Lydia.”
“No, I should have settled the matter with Wickham long ago. It is my fault entirely. But as you told me a few nights ago, what is done is in the past now. We should be grateful nothing worse happened. Your sister would have been miserable even if he married her.”
“Yes, I know that. And where is he now?”
“Wickham? He is still with the colonel—he took on the responsibility of finding him a new commission somewhere in the north.”
“But…Charles said Wickham had many debts. How can he leave so easily? And how will he pay for his commission?”
“As I said, all is settled,” he repeated.
“Have you paid for him? Again? Please tell me?”
“I have. But this time, I will purchase all his debts and he will owe me. He will be obliged by legal documents to play by certain rules. And I will be able to throw him in the debtors’ prison whenever I please if he breaks them.”
“I am sure you will not do that. What a hateful man! If only I could speak to him and shame him to his face!”
He smiled at her anger.
“I am afraid he will not be in a position to be seen for a while.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
He averted his eyes, glancing around.
“If one is impertinent and mocks someone who is already furious with him, one might find one’s good looks temporarily marred.”
Elizabeth looked at him, dumbfounded. “You punched him?”
“Let us say I corrected his manners. And I hope this will be the last time we talk about Wickham. We have already wasted too much time on this troublesome nuisance.”
He stood still, gazing at her. Water was dripping from his hair and his unbuttoned shirt that revealed his neck and torso.
“You should go to sleep now,” he whispered.
“Yes. I am glad we spoke. I hope to see you again soon, Mr Darcy.”
His hands trapped her unexpectedly and she was forced to turn, unable to conceal her tears.
“Soon? What do you mean?”
“We are returning home,” she repeated childishly.
“I know. Bingley and I will escort you.”
“You will?” she looked at him in disbelief, fearful to hope or even to ask further.
“Miss Bennet, we are both exhausted and apparently unable to carry on a reasonable conversation,” he jested. “Which is perhaps for the best, or else I would be tempted to ask you the question I have been delaying.”
She raised her eyes to him. “Question?” she whispered.
He gently removed a lock of hair from her temple and her body touched his wet clothes. Chills ran through every fibre of her body and she shivered, although she felt warm.
“The question that I have kept hidden for several months, hoping for a new opportunity to address it. The one that I so dreadfully made a mess of once, that I fear to repeat it.”
His hoarse voice, as tender as it was, melted her heart and his gaze penetrated hers.
While her hopes returned, against her fears and even against her beliefs, so did her tears that moistened her eyes.
She was still close to him, her face lifted to his, as she replied, “Could it be the question that I once rejected and have since ardently wished to hear again?”
Wordlessly, he embraced her and her arms encircled his waist—for the first time in her life. She rested her head on his chest, then his hands, strong yet gentle, cupped her face and his thumbs wiped her tears.
“When I heard about Wickham and Lydia I feared that it was all over. I would understand if you wished to avoid the scandal.”
“We have spent several nights alone by the sea. We have spoken of things that one would not even dream of sharing with another soul. I let you know that my ardent love has perhaps become more patient but has grown even stronger. And you believed I would leave because of a small scandal?”
She forced a smile at his harsh reproach. “I told you that you trust me more than I trust myself, Mr Darcy. And perhaps more than I deserve.”
“And I still disagree with that, Miss Bennet.”
She rose onto her toes, lifting her face towards him and caressing his cheek.
“Mr Darcy, please ask the question,” she begged.
His lips gently touched her chin, as he whispered, “Miss Bennet, would you—”
“I would sir, most willingly,” she hastily interrupted him, watching the expression of heartfelt delight appear on his face; but only for an instant, as his lips captured hers and she closed her eyes, abandoning herself to his arms, knowing nothing else but his strong body pressed against her, the taste of salt and sweetness on his lips and the warmth of his bare neck where her arms eventually rested.
“Miss Bennet?” he whispered after a long while. “We should return home this instant, or else another scandal—much bigger than Lydia’s—will soon affect both our reputations.”
∞∞∞
About three months later
Pemberley had not been so animated in more than ten years, as Mrs Reynolds recollected and wrote to Mrs Clarke in a long and detailed letter about recent events.
They were still sharing a regular correspondence that included Julia Norwood as well as Mrs Crawford.
They had all been invited to join the rest of the party from Brighton at Pemberley but were unable to attend and so they postponed their travel plans for another year.
Fortunately, everything was perfectly arranged and met the master’s expectations.
Instead of Elizabeth travelling with the Gardiners to the North, Mr Darcy came to Longbourn to ask for Mr Bennet’s consent to marry his second daughter, causing a commotion at Longbourn that shook the town of Meryton too.
Many could not believe such a happenstance and Mrs Bennet was among them. But she had no time to faint, as she was too eager to share the news with everyone she knew, while she prepared for a double wedding as her friends had never seen before.
Lydia was forbidden to mention Wickham again and she railed against it for about a month—then she found consolation in other objects that caught her interest.
At the beginning of September, Elizabeth did travel to Pemberley with the Gardiners, as well as with her parents and sisters, and the Bingley siblings .
A week later, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his eldest brother, together with his wife, joined them and the guest wing was almost full.
The master suite was prepared for the soon-to-be Mr and Mrs Darcy in a private wing, and a separate apartment—away from the other guests—was ready to offer well-deserved privacy to the other couple waiting for their wedding: Bingley and Jane.
Much to Darcy’s delight, Georgiana had quickly become friends not only with Elizabeth—whom she welcomed like a true sister—but also with the other Bennet girls. She found great pleasure in playing with the Gardiner children too, who simply adored her.
“Darcy, how are you feeling?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. They were on a small balcony outside Darcy’s study, since Mr Bennet rarely left the library.
“Perfectly fine. Excited and a little exhausted with all the upheaval. But it is well worth the trouble.”
“I imagined as much,” the colonel laughed. “It is a loud party indeed, but I believe Pemberley needed some laughter and music, and noise and liveliness.”
“I could not agree more. We, the Darcys, needed it and Elizabeth has brought it to us.”
“Upon my word, I would never have imagined you marrying Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You argued all the time when you were in Kent, do you remember?”
“Of course I do.”
“When you first confessed to me that you had been in love with her all that time, I could not believe it. The news of your engagement fell like thunder on all of us as did the date of your wedding. You gave us no time to became accustomed to the idea. That is why my parents are still reluctant to accept this marriage.”
“And I do not blame them, as you well know. But I am grateful to you and your brother for supporting my decision and for being here.”
“Well, it was the least we could do after Lady Catherine complained all over town about how Miss Bennet charmed you and made you betray Anne.”
“I am too happy to allow Lady Catherine to bother me. And the reasonable people of London will ignore her claims—they usually do.”
“Undoubtedly. I must say I envy you, Darcy. I have known and loved many women in my life, but no one has ever looked at me the way Miss Bennet looks at you.”
“I am certain you have never looked at a woman as I look at Elizabeth either, Cousin. This is love. Not the sort that you have shared with so many others, but the kind that captures your heart once in a lifetime. It might change over the years, but it will never go. I hope you will find it one day and will understand my meaning.”
“I might do—or not. Perhaps that sort of love is not meant for everyone. Perhaps some of us will never find it or never recognise it and we should be content with what we have. I have no reason to complain, I assure you. Now give me one more drink and you should have one too. It is your last day as a single man of great fortune, chased by most of the young ladies of the ton.”
Darcy smiled at his cousin’s teasing, as well as at the anticipation of his wedding.
It was the last day before the only woman in the world he had ever wished for would be his.
From the garden, in the midst of the guests, Elizabeth waved to him discreetly.
He knew that her thoughts as well as her wishes were aligned with his.
She had once called him the last man in the world whom she could marry, but he had no doubts left that he had become the only one.
On a lovely morning in September, a year since Mr Bingley had rented Netherfield on his friend’s advice, Pemberley Chapel received two of the happiest couples it had ever seen. They were blissfully united, surrounded by their families and friends and some of Pemberley’s tenants and staff.
Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy wedded the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Charles Bingley married Miss Jane Bennet.
Everyone in attendance—with the exception of Mr Bingley’s sisters—agreed that they had never seen better suited couples.
It was a universally acknowledged truth that proved itself in the years to come.