To Conquer Mr. Darcy (24 page)

“Mrs. Darcy’s cousin is the recipient of a living from Lady Catherine,” Darcy explained. “She had the opportunity to dine at Rosings on several occasions during a visit to him.”

“And lived to tell the tale? Mrs. Darcy, I am indeed impressed.”

Shortly thereafter they departed from the cathedral en route to Derby House, which proved to be an imposing edifice of the same white limestone as the cathedral lying a short way outside of town near the river. Lady Derby had arranged a sumptuous wedding breakfast—Elizabeth could not help but wonder what would have happened had Darcy not agreed to attend it—that outstripped her expectations by far; it was clear that Lady Derby was a gifted and experienced hostess. The bishop was announced shortly after Darcy and Elizabeth arrived; Elizabeth followed suit behind Lady Derby in curtseying and kissing his ring. Darcy stayed close by her side as the bishop spoke to her, asking her questions about her impressions of Derbyshire and Pemberley. It seemed a somewhat stilted conversation to Elizabeth, and she was relieved when he moved his attention to Georgiana, giving Elizabeth the opportunity to offer her thanks to Lady Derby for her attentions.

Lady Derby was a very genteel lady of understated but direct opinions who was quite curious as to the mettle of the young woman who had captured her nephew’s heart. It was clear to her from observing them both that it was a love match; she would not have expected Darcy to settle for anything less, but she had in the past few years felt some concern as to whether he would ever meet someone to suit his needs, surrounded as he was by fortune hunters and flatterers.

Elizabeth brought up her acquaintance with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the two conversed on that subject briefly before Lady Derby turned her attention to the subject of her nephew, mentioning that Elizabeth seemed rather different than many of the young ladies of Darcy’s acquaintance.

“Yes, I remain convinced that the reason he first noticed me was that I showed no interest in him whatsoever,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “It is my impression that he was quite tired of the constant attention he received.”

“Yet somehow he seems to have gained your interest,” Lady Derby suggested.

With an amused smile, Elizabeth said, “He can be very persuasive—and persistent—when he sets his mind to it.”

“Yes, he is very like his father in that way, though he does not have his father’s easygoing disposition. He is more complex; he will not be the easiest of men to understand, I expect.”

“I would be hard put to disagree with you, Lady Derby,” responded Elizabeth, “though I prefer to think of it as his having great depth.”

Lady Derby smiled gently. “That is one way to put it, I suppose. He has been through trying circumstances over the years, and although he generally does not admit to their extent, they have left their mark on him.”

Elizabeth wondered what message she was being given. “I imagine that I shall learn more about that over time; as you say, he tends to be private about the past.”

“I certainly hope that we shall see more of you in the future; you should not let my nephew hide you away at Pemberley.”

Wondering at the shift of subject, Elizabeth was about to respond when a voice came from over her shoulder, “You will allow me, I hope, a bit of time alone with my bride before you begin to carry her off on social obligations,” Darcy said smoothly. “And while I am on the subject, it is past time for us to depart; we are expected at Pemberley.”

“I hope you will allow us to keep Georgiana for a few days, William. We hardly get to see her these days,” said Lady Derby.

“If she would like to be kept, I see no objection,” he allowed. Lady Derby approached Georgiana, who initially seemed reluctant, but on further persuasion from her aunt, appeared to change her mind.

“She has agreed to stay, but only tonight; she wishes to return to Pemberley with the Gardiners tomorrow, if that suits.”

With an amused smile, Elizabeth thanked Lady Derby for the wedding breakfast, and implicitly for her tact in separating out Georgiana to allow them privacy on their wedding night. She and Darcy bid their adieus and were soon en route to Pemberley.

They had barely left before Darcy moved from his proper position sitting opposite Elizabeth to the decidedly improper one of sitting by her side, and augmented his impropriety yet further by pulling her close to him. “At last I have you to myself, Mrs. Darcy,” he said.

The pleasure of having his arms around her after a day of deprivation brought an immediate smile to her face. “Just you and I, Mr. Darcy, and, of course, the driver and the footman. It was very thoughtful of your aunt to keep Georgiana.”

He laughed and kissed her lingeringly. “It was, indeed, which is why I may forgive them for ambushing us at our own wedding.”

“I know that you had not invited them—was it so disturbing that they were there?” she asked. Lord and Lady Derby had seemed quite pleasant to her, and she had been wondering why he had so steadfastly avoided informing them of the wedding.

“No, not disturbing. I did not wish to add to the stress of the occasion for you by bringing them in, and thought it wiser to allow you to meet on a less momentous occasion. They can be, in their own ways, somewhat challenging to deal with, but today seemed to bring out the best in them, so I cannot complain.”

“Challenging? How so?” Elizabeth succumbed to temptation and slipped her hand inside his coat.

He gave her an amused look. “It is a long way yet to Pemberley, madam!” he said. “Well, my uncle can tease mercilessly. Lady Derby, well, she is invariably pleasant, charming company, and she never makes any demands, but for some reason after speaking with her, one ends up doing whatever it is that she wishes, regardless of how one might feel about the matter. I suspect my uncle was quite taken by surprise when he found himself proposing to her. It is an astonishing talent; were she a man, I am convinced that she would be running the country, not just Derby House and all her relations, but it is all with the best of intentions.”

“Fortunately for you, I have a great deal of experience at being teased. As for your aunt, we shall have to see. Today she seemed primarily concerned that I care for you adequately, and I can hardly fault her for that, and since I have every intention of caring for you very well indeed, she could not change my mind on the matter,” said Elizabeth.

He kissed her hair, taking pleasure in simply knowing she was his wife, and that nothing could part them now. “So long as you are with me, my love, I shall have no complaints,” he said. “I will be forever grateful that you saw fit to give me a second chance, despite your reservations.”

She blushed, recalling how distressed she had initially been by his attentions on his return to Hertfordshire. “Well, the truth is that I had no intention of allowing you much of a chance at all, but it seems that my efforts were for naught.”

“Well, then, I am grateful that you stopped fighting me long enough to begin to like me,” he said teasingly. He slipped his fingers into her hair, caressing the silky strands until he encountered hairpins, which he began to remove.

“You are incorrigible, sir!” she said.

“Because I like playing with my wife’s hair? I so rarely get the opportunity, for it seems that whenever I have access to your hair, I tend to be distracted by your other charms. It seems just the thing for a long coach ride,” he said, kissing her neck.

Enjoying the sensuous feeling of his hands exploring her hair, she said, “I should have known it was hopeless by how hard I had to fight. I had an inkling of it already on the day you introduced me to Georgiana.”

“That soon? How did you know?” he asked, continuing his collection of hairpins.

She blushed. “What worried me was the way I reacted when you kissed my hand. Other men had done the same in the past, had handed me into carriages, had danced with me…”

“That is
quite
enough on that subject,” Darcy interrupted.

She smiled at him wickedly. “… but, while pleasant enough, the experience had never particularly affected me. But as soon as you touched me, it was different. Even when I was still firmly decided against you in my mind, still I was not able to forget how I felt when you kissed my hand.”

He caught her cheek and turned her face towards his, kissing her possessively, feeling all the satisfaction of her admission that she did not respond to others as she did to him. A jolt of the carriage pulled them apart, and they smiled regretfully at one another.

Elizabeth, the sensation of his kiss still fresh on her lips, could not help recalling her anger with what she had perceived as the treachery of her body when she had responded to his early advances, and it was ironic that the same reaction that caused her such distress could now bring her such pleasure. Darcy had returned to his enjoyable task of demolishing the careful arrangement of her hair, and, as it tumbled down around her shoulders, she nestled against him in contentment.

They spent a long while in this manner, Darcy playing gently with Elizabeth’s hair as she leaned against him. He could not recall feeling as peaceful in a very long time, merely from sharing her presence and knowing she loved him. It was the culmination of his dreams since he had met her, and he could still barely credit it was true, and had to fight the feeling that she could still somehow be snatched away from him. His eyes traced the line of her profile, trying to memorize the moment.

Elizabeth, reveling in the pleasure of feeling him beside her, closed her eyes to better savor the experience. It seemed impossible to believe that she had fought against this so long, and she could barely remember being the girl who had taunted Darcy at the Netherfield ball about his relations with Wickham. Now she could hardly imagine how she had lived without him, and the realization of her need raised a small spectre of fear within her. She had never allowed herself to need anyone in this way before; she had always been careful to keep her heart safe, and made sure that she could not be affected by the changes in someone else’s fancy. She had kept parts of herself secret even from Jane, but she was beginning to realize that she might find it harder, if not impossible, to do so with Darcy, that part of a love and desire as intense as his was an equally intense need and hunger for its object that might not allow for that distance. To need him so in face of this was disturbing, and unlike anything she had faced in the past.

It is a sad statement,
she thought,
that I sit here recognizing my fear of losing the man who has just promised before God to spend the rest of his life with me!
With an amused smile, she looked up at him, and when he noticed her regard, she said from her heart, “I love you, my husband.”

His hand drifted from her hair to the back of her neck where his fingers began to caress her. He smiled slowly as he bent his head to claim her lips. He tasted the pleasures of her mouth as he drew from her the passion that he knew lay under the surface, passion that was now his to explore and enjoy at his leisure. In an unhurried manner he continued to tantalize her with his mouth, sliding his hand onto her back and just underneath the neckline of her gown, until he felt her surrender to her desire and cling to him in return. “I have waited so long to call you my wife, my beloved, adored Elizabeth,” he murmured, “and I shall continue to show you how much I love you every day of our lives.”

Elizabeth was discovering to her dismay how much more difficult it was to satisfy herself with his kisses when she knew what more pleasure could be had than when she had remained innocent of the possibilities. It was going to seem a very long time until they retired for the night. Darcy, thinking likewise, decided that a change in subject was much required, and said, “We must consider how to inform your family of our marriage.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Perhaps we could hope that they just never notice,” she suggested lightheartedly.

“I believe that it might strike them that something is amiss when I carry you off to my bedroom each night,” he said with a smile. Realizing that he had managed to bring the conversation back once more to exactly the point that he wished to avoid, he added, “I assume we should tell them in person?”

“I would think that best. Presumably we shall have to reach Longbourn no later than my aunt and uncle; we can certainly not leave them to explain why I have failed to return with them.”

He laughed. “That would indeed put them in an uncomfortable position. Well, then, I assume we should travel to Longbourn when they leave Pemberley. We will no doubt need to remain there until Bingley’s wedding—do you think that your parents would be offended if we stayed at Netherfield instead of Longbourn?”

“Well, if they are, the reduced stress for us will no doubt outweigh the offence! We can always present the argument that Netherfield has more space, especially as the wedding approaches.”

He wound his hand in her hair again. “I am sorry that this has made matters so much more complicated,” he said.

“You are worth it,” she said with an impish smile. “I believe you may have been right, sir, when you suggested that our ability to wait longer may have been overrated.”

“Mine certainly was,” he growled in her ear before nibbling on it. “My ability to wait until we reach Pemberley is coming into further question by the minute.”

She raised an eyebrow as she blushed. “I am not of the opinion that a carriage is a pleasant or safe place for such endeavors, sir.”

“While it is tempting to try to convince you otherwise, unfortunately I suspect that you are correct, madam,” he replied.

The wedding celebration that night was quite the opposite of the solemn, quiet ceremony of the morning, and it brought home to Elizabeth full force what it would mean to be the lady of the manor. It began at sundown with dancing by torchlight to the music of fiddle and flute, followed by food on a grand scale for all the tenants—Elizabeth was astonished to see what the Pemberley kitchens could produce on such short notice, and when she saw the gathered masses, she realized for the first time just how many lives depended upon her husband’s management. She and Darcy had shared a light dinner earlier, which was fortunate, since they were quite busy throughout the feasting, Darcy distributing gifts to the poor, and Elizabeth presenting small nosegays of flowers to the children, who bobbed shy curtseys and bows in acknowledgement. The house was completely decked with flowers—she wondered if she would find the gardens stripped bare the following morning—and filled to the brim with revelers.

She found herself feeling unaccountably shy when Darcy introduced her to the crowded masses, and blushed when they cheered her heartily, which only encouraged some of the lewd comments that flew back and forth among the tenants. Darcy had warned her of this aspect—“This is still the North, my love,” he had said—and she tried to keep her composure, but to the delight of the crowd, one or two of the comments clearly embarrassed her thoroughly, and they were all the more pleased to discover that the new Mistress of Pemberley had the capacity to laugh at herself when this occurred. Darcy, who was not such a tempting target for heckling, escaped more lightly, staying at Elizabeth’s side throughout.

After the formal festivities finally drew to a close, Elizabeth and Darcy retired to her room, where they stood at the window as a group of villagers sang ballads and made music below them. When they came to the chorus of one of the songs, Elizabeth felt Darcy’s eyes on her.

O farewell grief and welcome joy,

Ten thousand times therefore

For now I have found mine own true love,

Whom I thought I should never see more.
[1]

He murmured in her ear, “There are cakes and ale in the village, but I fear that they will not leave until they see me kiss you. May I?”

She looked up at him with an amused smile. “Well, if I must tolerate your attentions, Mr. Darcy, I suppose there is nothing to be done for it. I shall strive to bear it with equanimity.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, and he pulled her into his arms for a kiss perhaps slightly more thorough than the circumstances required. Her cheeks were scarlet as they called their thanks to the cheering singers.

“Now, my love,” he said as he drew her away from the window, “about this matter of tolerating my attentions…”

* * *

Elizabeth was feeling quite satisfied with married life the next morning, when, after having the pleasure of awakening slowly in her husband’s arms, she sat with him at breakfast, knowing that no one was expected beside the two of them, and that this could no longer be seen as improper. The warmth with which Darcy’s gaze rested on her brought a smile to her face, and she was not above seeking his hand under the table merely to celebrate the fact that she could do so.

After breakfast, they planned to part briefly as Mrs. Reynolds had offered to introduce the staff to Elizabeth and begin the first stages of her education in the workings of Pemberley, which Elizabeth hoped to embark upon before they took their necessary trip to Longbourn to acquaint her parents with the news of their marriage. They had hardly had a chance to start the discussion before Darcy reappeared with letters in hand. “Mrs. Darcy, I have just discovered that the post brought these letters while we were in Matlock; I believe they are from Longbourn, and I thought you might wish to attend to them immediately,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” responded Elizabeth eagerly. She took the letters, and, discovering they were both from Jane, asked Mrs. Reynolds to excuse her until later. With a smile for her husband, she settled herself in the parlor to read her letters. She had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrival at Pemberley; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; now her sister was justified, as one of the letters was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.

The one missent must be first attended to; it had been written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded, as well as her sister’s raptures over her dearest Mr. Bingley; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham!—Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides!—But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves, though how you are to broach the matter to Mr. Darcy I can make no suggestion. My dear Bingley has been everything that is kind, and I am most thankful that he is here. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.’

Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows—it had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first:

By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Lieutenant Denny expressing his belief that W. never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B. intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther, for on entering that place they removed into a hackney-coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success; no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them.

Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan, and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to every thing?—Impossible. I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill and keeps to her room. Could she exert herself it would be better, but this is not to be expected, and as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has his anger for having concealed their attachment, but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; I do not know how I would manage it, though, were it not for the aid and support of my dear Bingley, who has been everything one could possibly ask in this time of trouble. Adieu.

I take up my pen again to make a request, because the circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do, I am sure I know not, but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle’s advice and assistance would be every thing in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness. I can only rely on you, Lizzy, to determine what is best done regarding Mr. Darcy; I know this must be a blow to him, but if he has any advice or thoughts on how W. is to be found, I beg of you to send word to my father immediately.

Elizabeth’s distress on reading this was great, and she scarce knew what to say or how to look. Lydia and Wickham! She grieved for her lost sister, she feared for the well-being of her family, and she could only be horrified by the prospect of Darcy’s response to this news. His sister-in-law, not only ruined, but by Wickham! The mortification would be nigh unbearable, and such proof of the weakness of her family must make him regret their alliance. How were they to explain what could not be hidden to Georgiana?

She could not hide this intelligence, however, and despite her fear over her reception she knew she must go to him immediately—but how could this not come between them in the most hurtful manner? Was one day of marital happiness all they were to have? She caught her breath on a sob, and before her courage could fade away, she took herself to his study, where she found him working behind his desk.

He looked up as she appeared at the door, and, seeing her look so miserably ill, he said with more feeling than politeness, “Good God, what is the matter?”

She looked at his beloved face and burst into bitter tears. He strode to her side immediately. “Elizabeth, what is it? You must tell me, dearest. Is it news from Jane?” Wordlessly she handed him the letters, and then sat down, unable to support herself any longer.

Darcy, torn between reading the letters and comforting Elizabeth, who was clearly beyond any explanation of the matter, compromised by kneeling beside her and taking her hand while he scanned the letters. His face was fixed with astonishment as he read the first, and when he came to the second, a few words unsuited to a lady’s presence escaped him. She burst into tears on seeing his contracted brow, and she covered her face with a handkerchief, not wanting to see his face when he looked up at her with knowledge of her sister’s disgrace.

His shock and horror was great, but his concern for Elizabeth was even greater. He put his arms around her compassionately, wishing for something he could say that would comfort her.

“When I consider,” she said in an agitated voice, “that
I
might have prevented it!
I,
who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now.”

“It is too late to stop it, but not too late to mend it, dearest. They shall be found, and he shall be made to marry her,” he said in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner.

She shook her head in distress. “Nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”

He took her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. “Elizabeth, there is nothing easier in the world than working on Wickham—all it takes is money. If I know Wickham, he will not be hiding so much as waiting to be discovered so that he can make his demands. You must have faith in me, my dearest; you know that I have dealt with him before, and I can do it again.”

She looked at him with eyes filled with pain. “I cannot ask it of you—you cannot take on the mortification of this; it is a matter for my family.”

“Good God, what do you think
I
am? You married me yesterday, Elizabeth, and I
am
your family, and, if I may venture a guess, I am the ultimate cause for this dreadful affair, and it lies to me to remedy it,” he said forcefully.

“How could
you
be the cause? It is Lydia’s weakness, Lydia’s folly, and my wretched, wretched mistake of failing to explain what I knew when my eyes were opened to his real character.”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Elizabeth, please listen to me. Does Lydia know of our engagement?”