Truth about Mr. Darcy (20 page)

Elizabeth awoke early Saturday morning to find her maid, Sonia, bustling about in preparation for her mistress’s morning bath. She smiled as she threw back the counterpane and reached for her dressing gown. Despite the numerous trials of the week, this was Elizabeth’s wedding day, and she was convinced nothing could spoil it.

Sonia gave her a happy, knowing look. “Good morning to you, ma’am. Your bath will be ready shortly, and a tray will be sent up to you in an hour. Mrs. Hildebrandt said it will not do to have the master see you in all your finery before you are wed, and thought it best you break your fast in your room this morning.”

“Thank you, Sonia. Please tell Mrs. Hildebrandt I appreciate her thoughtfulness.” The young woman nodded and slipped from the room.

When Elizabeth stepped into the steaming bath, she did so with a sigh and leaned her head back against the soft towel that had been placed on the rim of the tub. A warm feeling of relaxation and contentment settled over her, and her thoughts soon drifted to Darcy. Though their courtship had been brief and riddled with difficulties, she could assuredly say it had been a most enjoyable time for her.

Not only was Darcy a passionate, caring man who was unafraid to show her his affection, he was also considerate and generous, almost to a fault. He was more than willing to do any little thing for her comfort and pleasure, and she was truly surprised by the lengths to which he was willing to go in order to secure her happiness. She smiled to herself, recalling the day before when her mother, in her effusions over the impending nuptials the following day, had managed to work all her daughters and poor Georgiana into a fit of nerves that could have rivaled her own. Just when Elizabeth had been certain she could take no more, Darcy appeared with Mrs. Hildebrandt.

***

“I do not mean to intrude, Mrs. Bennet, but Mrs. Hildebrandt and I find ourselves at quite a loss over certain unresolved details for the wedding breakfast tomorrow. We were wondering whether you would be so kind as to assist us, as it is truly of the utmost importance.”

He cast a meaningful glance at Elizabeth and, though his demeanor appeared to be just as serious as ever, she recognized a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. She was certain it was discernible to no one but Georgiana and herself, and she had to turn away for a moment to hide her smile.

“Ah, but I see you are very busy at the moment. Forgive me, madam. I am certain the cook can work out some other alternative to the fish we were planning to serve. Perhaps we shall just go without? What say you, Mrs. Hildebrandt?”

The plump housekeeper then replied, in a voice that sounded suspiciously well rehearsed, “Why yes, sir, whatever you think is best. I shall tell Mrs. Richards immediately that we shall simply go without the fish.”

“What do you mean,
go without
? Go without? I should say not! Where is this cook of yours, Mr. Darcy? I daresay I shall set her to rights before long! No fish for my own daughter’s wedding breakfast, indeed!” She turned to Elizabeth, who had to struggle to keep her composure. “Lizzy, you shall just have to do without me, I am afraid, for I am needed immediately to organize the wedding breakfast. I cannot be bothered with these other trivialities just now,” she said as she waved her handkerchief at her daughter. “Your gown is lovely, and I am sure your maid shall do an excellent job with your hair, child. You need not worry yourself over a thing, especially now that Mr. Darcy has seen fit to consult me on the business of the breakfast. Sir, you were very right to come to me.”

That having been said, she ran ahead of Mrs. Hildebrandt to find the cook. The housekeeper looked back at her master, casting him a look of some trepidation, to which he only nodded. Elizabeth looked to Darcy with a raised brow, barely able to contain her amusement, and Darcy returned her look with a dazzling smile. Raising her hand to his lips, he bowed to her and quitted the room, leaving the ladies to continue their plans and preparations unencumbered.

It was not until much later in the evening that Elizabeth had finally found an opportunity to speak with Darcy alone, for, though she and her sisters had not been forced to bear her mother’s excessive raptures or disapprobation throughout the course of the afternoon, she had discovered the same could not be said for Darcy.

She found him in his study, with a cup of hot tea and some biscuits, reading over some matters of estate business that he had put off to attend Mrs. Bennet. Darcy rang for a servant to bring another cup, and Elizabeth happily joined him.

With an arch smile, she said, “Though I had no doubt you were speaking the truth when you once said you would do anything in your power to ensure my happiness, sir, I confess I had not completely comprehended the lengths to which you were willing to go in order to secure it. I believe I am indebted to you, Fitzwilliam, for your selfless act earlier this afternoon.”

Darcy, who was in the midst of raising his cup to his lips, returned her smile. “Yes, I believe you are, my dearest.”

“So, did you enjoy your afternoon?” she asked.

Darcy laughed. “Let us just say it was an experience I am not particularly eager to repeat any time soon. I confess I had no idea fish, meats, cakes, breads, flowers, table linens, china, and whatever other details with which your mother saw fit to torture me were of such import to becoming your husband, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “Was she very awful, then?”

“No.
She
was not awful. It was the endless list of details and frippery that exhausted me to no end. I believe that in all the time I have known her, I have never once seen your mother expend her efforts beyond the pursuit of eligible husbands, the gleaning of gossip, and shopping. I must say, however, when redirected to another purpose entirely, she is quite a force to behold. She is determined you shall have nothing but perfection on your wedding day, Elizabeth. I was moved by her devotion to you. It is obvious your mother cares a great deal for your happiness.”

Elizabeth smiled, pleasantly surprised he would have made such an observation of her mother. “Indeed, Mama is devoted to all of us in her own unique way; however, I suspect her taking such a tremendous interest now in
me
has occurred only to such an extent because I am to marry
you
. Though I know she does love me dearly, I have never been a favorite of my mother. That is an honor that Jane and Lydia must divide between them, and I might add, one that I have always been perfectly content to forego.”

“Does that not trouble you, though?” he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not at all. I have always had an excellent relationship with my father, which has more than made up for any disinterest on my mother’s part. He and I are far better suited, both in disposition and in taste. I suspect it has been harder on Kitty and Mary, though.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

Returning her cup to its saucer, Elizabeth inquired, “And what of your parents, Fitzwilliam? Were you closer to one more than the other?”

Darcy’s answer was immediate. “My mother. Like you and your father, we shared many things in common. We would while away many hours out-of-doors, walking the paths around Pemberley, talking of books, philosophy, music, art. In the evenings, she would play the pianoforte and sing for my father. She taught me how to play, as well, though I hardly ever do now and never in company. She had a beautiful singing voice, not unlike your own. In many ways you remind me of her, Elizabeth. She had your spirit, your zest for life, your talent for talking to others, your fervent devotion to those she loved. I know she would have loved you, as well.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly. “You must miss her very much.”

“I do. She died when I was but twelve. I was devastated, as was my father. Regrettably, Georgiana has no memory of her.”

“She must have passed away, then, when Georgiana was but a very small girl.”

Darcy looked away and swallowed. “When she was only a few days old,” he said softly. He got up and walked to the window, raking his hand through his hair, and then walked back to the desk. “Georgiana looked very much like my mother, and my father adored her, doted on her. He devoted many hours to her amusement and did all he could to encourage a bond between us, but for the first year of her life, I could hardly bear to do more than look upon her. I found it too painful. I blamed her for my mother’s death.”

“But you are both very close now,” she added.

“Yes. Yes, we are,” he murmured. “Not long after Georgiana had reached her second year, she fell ill with fever. She was not expected to live. Late one night, I went to the nursery where the doctor was tending her with my father. Her tiny body looked so frail and lifeless. It was then, while watching my father pray for the life of his only daughter—the daughter my mother had desired so much that she had been prepared to die for her—when I suddenly realized just how important my baby sister had become to me. At that moment I dropped to my knees and made a promise to God: If he allowed Georgiana to live, I would, from that day forward, be the elder brother she deserved. Regrettably, I have not always succeeded in keeping that promise.”

Elizabeth had no doubt Darcy was alluding to Ramsgate. Without a word, she reached out to him and took his hand. He gave hers a squeeze and then pulled her to her feet, touching his forehead to hers as he stroked the softness of her cheek. “Enough,” he said softly. “It was not my intention to burden you with my painful memories of the past. Tomorrow we are to be wed, and then we shall begin our life together, one that shall be built on nothing but our love and happiness. No sorrow, no pain, only joy from this moment forward.”

“You know, Fitzwilliam, that sounds suspiciously like my own philosophy. I heartily believe in thinking only of the past as its remembrance gives us pleasure.”

Darcy’s lips grazed her hair. “So it does.”

Elizabeth kissed him before laying her head against his chest and drawing his body closer. The soft thu-thump of his heart soothed her. “Then it is settled,” she sighed. “We shall be the happiest couple in the world.”

Darcy could hear the lightness in her tone and the conviction in her voice, and smiled.

***

“Ma’am?” Sonia’s voice roused Elizabeth from her bittersweet reverie. “Ma’am, forgive my intrusion, but you must make haste if we are to have you dressed and ready in only a few hours.”

“Yes, thank you, Sonia,” she said as she rose from the tub to dress for the day.
My wedding day
, she thought with a smile.

***

As Darcy and Bingley stood in the church awaiting Elizabeth’s arrival, the latter leaned in close to his friend and whispered, “I say, Darcy, you look as though you are going to your death. Smile, man. It is your wedding day, after all, not your funeral.”

Twisting his signet ring, Darcy replied, “Bingley, you know how I detest being in front of a crowd. I cannot help but feel as though I am on display.”

Bingley chuckled. “I would hardly call a handful of your closest relatives, the Bennets, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner a crowd, Darcy.”

“Perhaps,” Darcy conceded as he shrugged, “but you cannot deny that I am certainly on display at the moment.” He ran the back of his hand across his mouth in apparent agitation, then, leaning toward his friend, he said in a low voice, “I must confess, Bingley, I had given very little thought to any of this beyond being wed to the woman I love. I cannot thank you enough for standing up with me.”

“You are most welcome, Darcy. Fear not. It shall soon be over. Then you will have three months in which to recover before you must journey to Hertfordshire to bear witness to my own happiness.” Darcy rolled his eyes, an indulgent smile upon his lips, as with a wide grin, Bingley slapped him on the back.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Darcy’s gaze darted to the door of the church before falling upon the dozen or so relations murmuring in the pews. His brow furrowed, and he said, “Bingley, I cannot help but notice the absence of your sisters and Hurst. I thought they had intended to be present today. I hope they are well.”

Bingley gave his friend a wink and said, “I suspect they are all in excellent health, though Caroline is, no doubt, mourning your loss, or rather, her own, with all the dignity and grace of a truly accomplished lady.”

Darcy shrugged. “No doubt.”

“To be honest,” Bingley continued, “you have Hurst to thank. He did not trust Caroline to hold her tongue and behave herself, and I must admit I cannot but share his opinion. He forbade them to attend today. Of course, Louisa cried and carried on, trying her utmost to change his mind, but he held firm, declaring that the future Mrs. Darcy deserved to celebrate her wedding day with those of her friends who sincerely wish to share in her happiness, not disparage her good name.”

A smile turned up the corners of Darcy’s mouth. “I cannot but agree, as well. I shall have to thank your brother-in-law properly when next we meet.” Properly, of course, meaning a case of the finest brandy from Pemberley’s cellars.

Their attention was then called to the door at the entrance to the church as it opened to admit Jane, who walked toward the altar with a serene smile. It was not difficult to ascertain the direction of Bingley’s thoughts as he watched her approach. By the expression on his face, Darcy expected he was, even at that moment, rethinking the length of his engagement.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before Elizabeth appeared, but when she finally began her slow promenade down the aisle on her father’s arm, Darcy’s breath caught, and he felt a distinct lump form in his throat. Never before had he seen her looking more lovely and more desirable than she was at that moment. She wore an exquisite gown made entirely of snowy white silk. Beautifully draped, the garment flowed to the short train trailing behind her. The cut was simple and sophisticated, and accentuated her curves. The flattering neckline showed her beauty to its full advantage without being too revealing. There was no ornamentation on the dress beyond some intricate embroidery and pearl beadwork along the bodice and hem of her gown. To Mrs. Bennet’s vexation, not a drop of lace was to be seen, but it needed no further embellishment. Adorning Elizabeth’s neck was a beautiful pearl and diamond necklace, a companion piece to her engagement ring. Her hair was swept up and arranged in an elegant style; her locks fastened in place by dozens of pearl hairpins of various sizes, all gleaming in the early morning light of the church. Matching pearl-drop earrings dangled from her ears, and rather than the traditional wedding bonnet, a long length of Belgian lace, procured by her Aunt Gardiner at her mother’s insistence, covered her head.