The Journey (39 page)

* * *

It was late that evening after Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had left for Netherfield before Jane and I climbed the stairs together. We met Aunt Gardiner outside my chamber.

“So everything is in order?” she asked, smiling. “All prepared for the great day, and now to bed?”

We nodded. “In spite of Mamá’s worries, I do think all will be well,” I said.

“Your young gentlemen appear as much in love with the two of you as ever. It does my heart good to see you happy. Now that all the unpleasantness is over, you can look forward to the future with the greatest assurance of hope.”

Jane and I kissed her and reminded her that we owed much of our present joy to her hospitality and gentle guidance. We retired that night filled with pleasure. While we slept, my mother’s prayers were granted, and the rain ceased at last. In its place, a light snow began to fall. We awoke to find the countryside dusted white with a hint of sunshine winking through the clouds.

I could hear my mother’s voice crying, “Hill! Hill!” and the scatter of footsteps, as my sisters and the servants scurried about.

I yawned and stretched, rolled over, and thought of Fitzwilliam.

“Good morning, almost husband,” I whispered.

I rang the bell for the maid and proceeded with my scheduled ablutions. I was a bride that day, and I felt certain a happier bride had never existed.

My mother and my younger sisters ran back and forth between Jane’s bedchamber and mine while we dressed, adding their suggestions — or orders, in Mamá’s case — about our preparations.

At length, I had bathed, perfumed, and corseted my body. I sat patiently while the maid transformed my unruly hair into an array of curls. I stepped into the beautiful white gown, and my aunt placed the lace-trimmed bonnet and veil upon my head. Even I could not help but be pleased with my appearance in the floor-length mirror.

I turned around to see Jane enter the room, a vision too lovely to behold. It was all either of us could do to restrain our tears, but fortunately within moments, my uncle called from below stairs that it was time for us to depart. The tears would have to wait.

A collection of carriages were lined up outside Longbourn Church by the time we arrived. My younger sisters retrieved our bouquets from Aunt Philips in the foyer, and after handing them over, they scampered inside. Lydia and Kitty hoped to seat themselves by Lieutenant Denny and Captain Carter, while Mary frowned at them in disapproval. Mr. Gardiner escorted my mother and aunt into the sanctuary.

“Well, Jane, Lizzy,” Papá said, holding out an arm for each of us to clasp, “you are both about to marry fine men.”

“The very finest of men,” I said, and Jane murmured her assent.

“I could not have parted with either of you to any less.” He kissed Jane’s cheek and then mine, and a lump rose in my throat at the sight of the mist about his eyes. He would not give us time for sentiment, however. Lifting his head, he led us through the great double doors.

Inside I sensed that the pews were filled with guests, but in truth, I could not tell you who was there. I had eyes for only one person standing at the end of the aisle. I suppose the vicar stood there, as well as Mr. Bingley. I, however, saw only Mr. Darcy — my Fitzwilliam — waiting for me.

The expression on his countenance was deadly serious, his eyes piercing mine. It was that same look I had seen him direct upon me so often, one I had in the past erroneously thought of as disapproval but now recognized as Fitzwilliam’s intense struggle for self-control. He needed me, he wanted me, he loved me, but he would hold it all deep within. I could read it all over his face, and it made me smile.

It was not until after we had endured the wedding breakfast and raced through the bridal arches with Jane and Mr. Bingley that Fitzwilliam smiled. All through the meal and endless line of friends and family extending their best wishes, I never saw his countenance ease or felt a lessening of the tension that beset him. Therefore, when his face broke out in smiles as he led me to the carriage, it was as welcome as the sun pouring forth through the clouds in all its splendour.

Even before the carriage reached the end of the drive, we had turned to each other, love and desire culminating in a tender, tentative kiss. For some reason, I suddenly felt timid, knowing that now we were married, a kiss could mean much more than when we were betrothed. Once his lips met mine, however, my shyness evaporated as I tasted his sweet mouth and felt that exciting rush of anticipation envelop me.

“I love you, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured, drawing me into his arms.

“I love you more, Mr. Darcy,” I replied.

“Impossible!” he declared, kissing away my protests.

Ah well, I thought, I shall let him have the last word this time, since he convinced me in such a beguiling manner.

* * *

Jane and Mr. Bingley travelled to London for their wedding trip, but Fitzwilliam wished to take me home to Pemberley, and I had not the slightest desire to go elsewhere. Since it was a great distance to Derbyshire, my husband’s uncle had offered us the use of his country estate, Ardengate, in which to break the first day’s journey.

We stopped to change horses on the way, but still the trip seemed long. I know not whether it was because of our anticipation of the evening to come, but Fitzwilliam, in particular, appeared more than eager to reach the grounds of the great house.

A great house it was, ancient yet well maintained. I was amazed at its size and grandeur. Inside all was prepared in expectation of our visit. I was shown to my spacious, elegant chamber, where a maid unpacked my bags and helped me dress for dinner. The meal was held in a great dining hall with a table fit for a banquet instead of merely two people. Upon entering the room, my husband shook his head.

“This will not do,” he announced to the butler hovering nearby. “You have placed Mrs. Darcy and me at opposite ends of a table clearly intended for a large gathering. Kindly remove her plate, and set it next to mine on my right.” The servant snapped his fingers, and two footmen immediately did as directed.

Over a sumptuous feast, we talked of the day, of our relations, and of the wedding itself. Eventually, we began to speak of the previous night, the last night we had remained in an unmarried state.

“Did you sleep well last evening,” I asked.

“I cannot say that I did,” he replied. “It must have been almost midnight before Fitzwilliam arrived with Georgiana. Even though he was not granted leave from his duties until the last moment, I am fortunate that he was able to escort my sister. I am glad my cousin and sister shall remain in the country for a few days as guests of Mr. Bingley’s sisters. It will give her the opportunity to recover from the journey.”

“I hope she may enjoy time spent with my younger sisters.”

“I am certain that she will. She and Mary can play duets until they drive your father and uncle from the house!”

We laughed at the thought, and then he sobered. “And what of you? Did you sleep well the night before we wed?”

I looked at my lap before answering. “I confess I could not go to sleep,” I said softly, “until I thought of you.”

“And what did you think of me?” His tone was teasing.

“Oh, how handsome and charming you are.” I gave him an arch smile. “I marvelled anew at the way you recommend yourself to strangers! And I dreamt of the balls we will hold at Pemberley, for I know how you love to dance.”

“Are those traits you would have me develop?” I had thought we were teasing, but his tone grew quite serious.

“To be more handsome or charming is impossible. As for the remainder of my silly attempts to tease you, dismiss them with nary a thought. I would not alter you in any way.”

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “You must forgive me. I do not always understand when you speak in jest. I fear I shall be in need of daily exposure to your lively ways.”

“You need have no fear on that account. That I can promise you.”

“But now tell me true, once you thought of me, were you able to sleep?”

I nodded as we gazed into each other’s eyes. “Somehow I felt your presence, and I slept quite well.”

A light kindled in his eyes, and he reached for my hand. “I, too, have always slept better within your presence.”

* * *

The next morning I awakened entangled within Fitzwilliam’s embrace, my head on his chest, my hair flowing over his shoulder. I felt him stir and tighten his arms around me before kissing my hair. I raised my face just enough to glimpse him through drowsy eyes, and it made me smile.

“Good morning, Husband,” I whispered.

“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy,” he replied, kissing my forehead again. “Mmm, this is the perfect way to awaken — holding you in my arms. I knew it for truth upon its first occurrence.”

“What did you say?”

Now it was his turn to smile. “The first time I woke up with you in my arms, I knew that I wanted to awaken in that manner every day of my life.”

I giggled and hugged him closer. “Ah, I know to what you refer — that morning in the cave.”

“Y-e-s,” he said, stretching out the word, “that was particularly enjoyable, but I had roused from slumber with your arms around me prior to that morning.”

I raised up on one elbow. “But that is impossible. What can you mean?”

“You truly do not know? At the time, I did not think you were awake, but I suppose in my vanity, I had hopes.”

I sat straight up and stared at him. “Of what are you speaking?”

He looked away, pressed his lips together, and then turned back to face me. “I am speaking of that room in the cabin in which we were locked for three days and nights. The first evening after your outburst summoned the highwaymen, and Morgan forced us to share the same blanket, you huddled against the wall, never turning even once. The second night was another matter.”

My eyes widened, and I gasped. “What — what did I do?”

“Nothing so very bad, my love. Do not distress yourself. It is just that I awoke to find you cuddled up against me, your arm thrown across my chest.”

“But I never knew it! How could I not know that happened?”

“Well, I took every precaution not to cause you embarrassment. I slipped out from under your embrace very carefully, even though I must tell you it was the last thing in this world I wished to do.”

“Fitzwilliam!”

“My dear, do not look at me in that manner. I am just a man, after all. And you know you are a beautiful woman.” He reached up and began to caress my bare shoulder, stroking my neck with a tender touch.

“Pray, do not distract me,” I said, disturbed that my voice was a bit shaky. “Was that the only time I imposed upon you in that manner?”

He smiled that inviting smile of his that revealed the answer. I sighed and rolled my eyes. What else had I done to humiliate myself?

“Do you recall the gunshots that wakened us on that third night?” he asked.

I nodded. “I called out your name.”

“And I put my hand against your mouth immediately to silence you, did I not? That was because you had slept on my shoulder for some time, your mouth buried against my neck. I had not far to reach to quiet you.”

“Oh!” I cried with dismay. “What must you have thought of me?”

He lay back, raised his arms and placed them behind his head. “I thought you enchanting, and the greatest temptation I had encountered in my life. I knew without a doubt that as soon as we escaped or were rescued, I had to make you my wife.”

“And you assumed I wished to marry you as well. Of course, you did. My behaviour led you to believe I loved you.”

“Elizabeth, I think a part of you did love me a little even back then. You fought against it. That was evident. Perhaps, though, that secret, hidden part of your heart knew you loved me even when your speech and actions when awake indicated the opposite. I like to think when asleep, you revealed your true feelings. And then, of course, there was Morgan and my mistaken belief that you cared for him. That diminished my hopes exceedingly.” His voice turned sour, as though he tasted something bitter.

I threw myself upon him, stretching out my arms to pull his from beneath his head so that they might encircle me.

“Is it possible that you know me better than I know myself, Fitzwilliam? It is for certain you know more about the ways of love. One thing, however, you do not know, and I shall tell you now so that you never forget it. You are the only man I
have
ever loved and the only man I
shall
ever love. And I intend to wake up beside you every morning of my life!”

From that time on, mornings proved to be the favourite part of our day.

Chapter Seventeen

I have now lived with Fitzwilliam Darcy more years than I have lived without him and yet, to this day, he still surprises me. The hour I think I might sketch the illustration of his thoughts or the moment I conclude that I can predict how he will react, he proves me false by acting the opposite. I sometimes accuse him of doing so just to keep me unbalanced. He feigns ignorance of what I speak, proclaiming that he is a typical man, easily read, as mundane as last night’s soup. He is nothing of the sort.