Mr. Darcy's Obsession (24 page)

Bingley blanched. "I had no idea about the baby or her husband's illness until you told me in London, I swear it. I would never take advantage of Jane."

"Then why are you here, if not to take advantage of her?"

Bingley opened his mouth, then closed it again and shrugged helplessly. "I have no explanation. I could not bear not knowing. I wished only to see her, to talk to her. On my honour, that is all."

"And to ask her to go away with you."

"I did not intend that, by all I hold holy! I could not stop myself. You have seen her circumstances, her misery, her fatigue. How could I leave her here?"

How could Darcy criticize him, when he had faced the same dilemma not so long before? He was the fortunate one; he could marry the woman he loved. He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, wishing he were not in the close confines of the alley and could pace to his heart's content. "You must leave here, Bingley. I will take responsibility for Jane's circumstances. I have already taken steps to increase her comfort and that of her family. Your presence can do nothing but endanger her. I hope no one here has recognized you."

"I--" Bingley cleared his throat. "Mrs. Long greeted me when I arrived." He turned a beseeching look on Darcy, as if asking for forgiveness.

Darcy swore under his breath. "So it will be all over Meryton by tomorrow." Tomorrow, when he wanted to think of nothing but his wedding. Perhaps that was the solution. "We will have to minimize the damage. We can tell people you are here to stand up with me tomorrow. You will have to spend the night here."

"Will Jane be at the wedding?"

"Naturally, but I expect you to keep your distance. You owe her that much."

"I would do anything for her."

"Then do not jeopardize her reputation any further!"

Bingley nodded slowly. "You have my word."

Chapter 19

Elizabeth was glad to escape upstairs to make her final preparations. Jane helped her change into a stylish dress borrowed from Charlotte. The hem dragged on the floor a bit, since Charlotte was the taller of the two, but otherwise Elizabeth could make no complaint. She was glad she would not have to walk up the aisle to Mr. Darcy in a dress that showed the wear of two seasons.

Mary laid out the curling irons in the hearth and then began to brush out Elizabeth's curly tresses. It had been a long time since anyone had done Elizabeth's hair for her, and it was an odd sensation, taking her back to her days at Longbourn, where there was always a sister or the maid to help. The brush became caught in a tangle, and Mary tugged to free it. Elizabeth gritted her teeth against the sharp pain but said nothing.

Mary must have sensed her reaction, though, since she said, "I'm so sorry, miss. I have never worked on such curly hair before. It's beautiful." She began carefully teasing the snarled hair apart.

"It can be troublesome," Elizabeth agreed. "Miss Darcy's hair must be easier to manage."

"Easy to comb, but hard to get it to hold a curl. Her lady's maid is the only one who can do it satisfactorily. I've watched a few times."

"Have you worked for the Darcys long?"

"Not me. Just a few months is all." Mary separated Elizabeth's hair into four strands and began to weave them together in a complicated pattern.

"I hear that Miss Darcy is very fond of you."

"Aye, she's a sweet lady, without a doubt. She likes having someone near her own age around, and I make her laugh. She didn't laugh much when I first met her. Too much time with old people, I figure."

"Old like Mr. Darcy?"

Mary laughed. "Oh, he's not so old as all that. Quiet, that's all. He's a good man, but I suppose you know that. I owe my position to him."

How could she possibly feel jealous of a servant girl an hour before her own wedding? But it seemed odd that someone other than the housekeeper would be choosing maids, and Mr. Darcy had a mysterious interest in Mary. "Mr. Darcy hired you?"

"Aye, I met him in Kent when he was visiting his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I was supposed to go in service to Lord Derby, but Mr. Darcy decided to take me instead. Very lucky I was, I'd say. Lord Derby, he's a bad-tempered one." Mary frowned at her handiwork and redid one section of hair.

More mysterious all the time! Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy would explain Mary's provenance to her if she asked directly. "Is he why you had to leave London?" Elizabeth tilted her head to one side to allow Mary to comb the tendrils of hair that drifted across her cheek.

Mary seemed completely unembarrassed by this question. "His son, actually." She squatted by the hearth and tested a curling iron, sprinkling a few drops of water on it and making it hiss satisfyingly.

Elizabeth held very still when Mary held it next to her face and wound a strand of hair tightly around it. She could feel the heat coming off the iron rod, and the pungent smell of hot hair tickled her nostrils.

Mary withdrew the iron and examined the tight curl left behind. "Aye, your hair does take a curl beautifully." She turned her attention to the other side. While the curl was settling, she said in an odd, low voice. "Mr. Darcy, he's a very good man."

The tone of her voice made Elizabeth feel oddly protective of her, and, even not knowing the circumstances, proud of her beloved.

The girl stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Oh, you do look lovely, Miss Bennet! Mr. Darcy won't have eyes for anyone else. Not that he ever does, of course." She set the iron curling rod on the metal rack to cool.

A squeal of children's voices from below told Elizabeth that the Gardiners must have arrived. She thanked Mary for her assistance and hurried down to meet the new arrivals.

***

It was an unlikely congregation, Elizabeth thought as she walked towards the altar on her uncle's arm. Miss Darcy and Lady Seaton sat erect in all their finery; her mother and sisters in carefully turned out and mended frocks from several seasons prior; Mr. Bingley looking as if he had slept in his topcoat and breeches; and Mary and Charlie, their faces scrubbed clean, sitting with the townspeople. Mrs. Bennet was already dabbing her eyes with her favourite handkerchief, but Elizabeth knew her primary sentiment at this occasion must have been relief.

Elizabeth shared the feeling, though her reasons were different. Through these last few days of happiness, she had been unable to put aside a fear that for some reason this wedding would never come to pass, that Mr. Darcy's family or friends would stop it, or that he would realize the great disadvantages of the match to him and call it off himself. She had been hardly able to sleep the previous night for wondering if she would wake up to discover it was all a dream and that she must go back to working in Mr. Browning's shop without hope for the future. But here she was, standing beside Mr. Darcy at the altar, the recipient of his loving gaze. His was not a temperament that overflowed with mirth, but the power of his happiness at this occasion could not be doubted.

She herself felt such lightness of being that she could barely attend to Mr. Roberts's droning voice as he spoke the familiar words, "...ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity..."

"Enough!" A deep, angry voice sounding from the back of the church made her jump, pressing her hand to her heart. "I demand that you stop this farce."

A well-dressed older gentleman strode towards them. Beside her, she could hear Darcy draw a sharp breath through his teeth. Elizabeth took an involuntary step backwards at the sight of the newcomer's rage-suffused face. Behind him stood a younger man, the sleeve of his black coat pinned to his side.

Darcy took a protective stance in front of her, standing between her and the stranger. Without looking at her, he said coldly, "Miss Bennet, allow me to present my uncle, the Earl of Derby. Lord Derby, I must ask you to join the others in the pews while Miss Bennet becomes Mrs. Darcy."

"I will not permit it!" Lord Derby snarled. "Darcy, come outside with me. I will not allow this nonsense to proceed."

Darcy's lips tightened and he turned towards the parson. "That decision is mine. Please continue, Mr. Roberts."

The parson glanced nervously from one man to the other. "Thirdly, it was ordained--" he said hesitantly.

"No! You there--curate--if you perform this ceremony, you will live to regret it!"

"Sir," Mr. Roberts addressed Darcy quietly, "perhaps we should discuss this in private."

Darcy's countenance became sterner than Elizabeth had ever seen it. "I will be happy to discuss it after the ceremony is concluded and not a moment before."

Lord Derby sidled up to his nephew. "Darcy, listen to me. This is a grave error. Think of your responsibility to Georgiana, your responsibility to your parents, and to the Darcy family name."

"Do not pretend you are interested in anything beyond the Fitzwilliam family name and fortunes, Uncle. I am sorry if you perceive this alliance as a disadvantage, but I do not, and you will not change my mind," Darcy snapped.

Lord Derby's mouth twisted with fury. "Did you not do enough damage to this family already, when your slut attacked Henry?"

At his side, Elizabeth blanched. Darcy put a reassuring hand on her arm as months of anger bubbled up in him, stoked by the injury his uncle was attempting to perpetuate upon Elizabeth. Elizabeth. He would not let his uncle harm her, even if it meant bringing the conflict to the fore in these public circumstances. "My
maid
did nothing but defend herself when Henry assaulted
her
."

Lord Derby gave a hiss of dismissal. "How dare you defend her! She is nothing. She should have been honoured by his attentions."

A cold rage settled in Darcy's bones, setting free words he had previously decided he would never speak. "As her mother was honoured by
your
attentions, nine months before her birth. Do you think Mary should have been honoured by her
brother's
attentions?"

A dead silence descended. Georgiana clutched Aunt Augusta's arm. Henry sank into a pew, all colour gone from his countenance.

Finally Lord Derby spoke, his voice full of venom. "This is nothing but a foolish rumour."

"Perhaps you would like to believe so. I sent an agent to enquire into the matter." Darcy snapped his fingers, and Charlie appeared by his side. "Charlie, what did Mary's mother tell you?"

Charlie drew himself up to his full height and spoke, not in his usual manner, but in a remarkable imitation of Darcy's own accent. "She identified Mary's father as Lady Catherine de Bourgh's brother, the Viscount Langley."

Darcy said, "As we all know, the then-Viscount Langley succeeded soon after to his father's title of Earl of Derby, but that intelligence only confirmed the matter. She has enough of the Fitzwilliam looks that I suspected her parentage long before that."

The earl's face contorted with disbelieving rage. "Before or after you lay with her?" He did not spare a glance for either Charlie or Mary.

Mr. Roberts stepped forward, holding his hands out. "Gentlemen, please. We are in God's house, and there are ladies present." He might as well have kept his silence, for all the attention anyone paid.

Darcy raised his chin. "I never touched her."

"You lie! You told us that day, and quite well pleased with yourself you were!"

"I said she had pleased me. I did not tell you
how
she had pleased me, which was by leaving my presence immediately at my request. You are my mother's brother, so I will allow this one insult to pass, but should you ever accuse me of lying again, I will respond as a gentleman must."

"Why, you... you are no better than your--" Lord Derby's words were cut off when Aunt Augusta, in a most unladylike manner, pushed herself between the two gentlemen like an avenging Amazon.

"That is enough, Joseph," she snapped icily, with no trace of her usual amiable eccentricity. "It is time for you to sit down. Now." Her eyes shot out warnings.

"I will not." He crossed his arms and glared at her.

"If you do not take the
gentleman's
part and allow this ceremony to proceed, you will have cause to regret it. You and your precious family name will never be the same."

If Darcy had stood any farther from his uncle, he would not have heard his next words. "You would not dare."

"You have always underestimated me, Joseph." Their eyes continued to wage war until, to Darcy's complete and utter surprise, Lord Derby harrumphed and stalked to sit beside his son.

Aunt Augusta's fierce scowl melted into a beatific smile. She patted Darcy's arm and said, "Please forgive my untimely interruption on such a solemn occasion. I pray you to continue."

The parson, his eyes still darting from side to side, clumsily re-opened his prayer book and flipped through the pages with trembling fingers. As he searched, Elizabeth whispered with amusement to Darcy, "And I feared
my
family might create a scene!"

Her words allowed his rage to dissipate into the air, and as his vision cleared, he saw her framed in the morning light shining through the stained glass. He drew even closer to her, and with his whole heart he said, "
You
are my family."

Her sparkling dark eyes met his, and he could see the love shining in them. Soon they would be bound through all eternity. He was indeed the most fortunate of men.

Mr. Roberts cleared his throat. "I believe we were considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

Mr. Roberts allowed a brief, tense silence to fill the church, and then, with a look of great relief, he proceeded with the rest of the ceremony, which passed with blessed normalcy. Still, Darcy did not relax his guard until the parson had pronounced them man and wife. He had never before realized how beautiful those words could be.

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled as he took her arm to walk back down the aisle. He placed his hand over hers, rejoicing in the knowledge that it was his right to do so. Even his uncle's grim face as they walked past could not lower Darcy's spirits, but he noticed that the earl was sitting alone. Darcy quickly scanned the church for his cousin.

Henry stood in the shadows at the back of the nave. His face was drawn, and Darcy could see he had lost weight. His clothes were unusually sober, more suited to a funeral than a wedding. Darcy nodded at him as they passed, but Henry's gaze seemed fixed on the altar, and he was not certain his cousin had noticed him at all. Or perhaps Henry had chosen not to notice him; Darcy doubted that his earlier statements had found favour with his cousin.