Chapter 27 Happy Was The Day

Exhilaration coursed through Elizabeth’s veins as the two couples took flight from the awful Matlock townhome. She kept up with Mr. Darcy’s swift pace, practically running down the steps to the street holding his hand, where two carriages awaited. Without a word of discussion, the two couples separated to board the equipages, each with the curtains closed against the chill of late autumn.

No sooner than she became settled inside, Mr. Darcy immediately cupped her cheek to place a loving kiss upon her lips, just as he had the night of the disastrous dinner when they hid in the mews. Breathing heavily, the happy couple enjoyed their moment alone, a luxury they had scarcely enjoyed since coming to London.

“You came to save me,” she managed.

“I’m not certain you needed to be saved by the looks of it. How awful were they?” he asked.

With a sigh, Elizabeth practically collapsed into his arms, finally allowing herself to feel the weight of all of the burdens she carried. Her parents’ bitter acrimony, Jane’s guilt, her fears of inadequacy, and the shame of Lydia’s fall to be printed for all of society to read. Instead of words, he held her. When she began to cry, he held her tighter.

As the carriage drove the few blocks from Matlock House to Darcy House, Darcy attempted to spark conversation, offering an opportunity for Elizabeth to share with him what transpired.

“I shall never speak to either of my aunts, again,” he vowed, hoping to raise her spirits.

Elizabeth pulled back in shock, shaking her head. “They were terrible, I will not speak falsely for their benefit. But, they must care for you, in their misguided way,” she said.

Darcy frowned, tilting his head at Elizabeth’s faulty logic. “Your capacity to forgive even the largest trespasses against you and your family astounds me.”

Elizabeth blushed. “I once kept my opinions firm and held grudges, do you not remember? You of all people suffered perhaps the worst. And where would we be if I had not changed?”

“If we had not changed.” He lifted her hand, spreading her fingers to lace his between hers. He lowered his head as he raised their intertwined hands to lightly kiss the top of her hand.

She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder as the carriage came to a stop in front of Darcy House.

As Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley assisted both ladies down and escorted them into the home, they discovered a pacing Colonel Fitzwilliam in Mr. Darcy’s parlor, a room Elizabeth was familiar with. Her eyes flicked to the door in the corner where she and Mr. Darcy had once escaped, but this time, the power to decide their fates would be in their hands.

“My apologies, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Bennet, for my mother.” The Colonel apologized and bowed after brief introductions were made.

“I have a suspicion, Colonel, you dispatched our rescuers,” Jane hinted, making her new acquaintance laugh.

“Yes, well, I remained to make my apologies for my family, who vex me on a good day, I assure you. Right,” the Colonel looked to Darcy. “If the plans change, let me know, but I leave now to see to my part.”

The two cousins farewelled and Elizabeth watched as Charles led Jane over to the sofa and sat next to her. In low whispers, they began to speak.

“What is this plan your cousin speaks of?” Elizabeth asked aloud, just as two others entered the room.

Before explaining more, Mr. Darcy walked over to Elizabeth with his eyes locked with hers.

“I cannot erase the egregious slander printed for the world to see, but without any undue influence, how would you like to proceed?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he blocked her view of anyone else in the room. She craned her neck at the two strangers, most curious that he did not make their introductions. From their attire, she surmised they might be his staff, and still, the lack of introduction stung her pride.

Firmly, Elizabeth made her wishes known. “I wish to marry you in the morning.”

With a roguish grin, Mr. Darcy lifted Elizabeth in his arms as the two staff members behind him clapped and cheered.

“Oh my apologies, Elizabeth, may I introduce you to my chef, Mr. Northam, and my housekeeper, Mrs. Hathersage. They are here to aid in our preparations.”

Mr. Bingley prodded Jane to speak up as the young woman suddenly gasped, interrupting the joys of her sister and her beau.

“Jane?” Elizabeth asked.

“Please, Lizzy. I cannot tell you to not marry Mr. Darcy, but if you two marry tomorrow, it will humiliate me. I would never ask you to wait…”

Elizabeth pushed aside her first reaction of anger towards her sister, and instead focused on her pain. Jane’s twisted her face in expression as she reluctantly shared her feelings in mixed company.

“Do you wish to wait, Jane? You and Mr. Bingley could marry tomorrow and return home to Hertfordshire as Mrs. Bingley.”

Jane gasped again, turning to Mr. Bingley for his reaction. Mr. Bingley laughed in his affectionately affable way and stuttered as he tried to think as fast as he could about how to accomplish such a feat.

“Yes, well, I could get a license, couldn’t I, Darcy? And your parents, they are both here in London, jolly convenient.”

“Mama and Papa!” Jane exclaimed, grinning and enjoying the prospect of marrying Mr. Bingley the following day. “But has Papa remained?”

Elizabeth shrugged.

“There is not much time. If you return at once to Gracechurch Street, you can convince Mr. Bennet to stay and seek a license.”

“But what about the ball and preparations?” Mr. Bingley asked Jane, to make sure that his betrothed fully agreed with the plan.

Jane stood and reached out for her sister’s hand. She led Elizabeth to the far side of the room where they could talk without the gentlemen hearing.

“Lizzy? Can we accomplish this?” Jane whispered, then stealing a glance at Mr. Bingley.

“Only if you wish to, Jane. I am marrying Mr. Darcy before anything else can go wrong.”

“But the ball? And Mama will be so upset . . .” Jane fretted, allowing her objections to trail off as her sister made a face of annoyance.

Elizabeth snorted, turning her back to the two bewildered gentlemen who stood powerless as the sisters held their council.

“Mama will care not a thrice. A double wedding, in London, by special license!” Elizabeth’s voice carried as she mimicked the taunting her mother might give to her sister Phillips and poor Lady Lucas.

Both girls glanced back at their grooms, but the men looked hopeful and not offended, before again putting their heads together. Elizabeth began to outline a plan.

“Go back to our aunt and uncle. Convince Mama and Papa to stay through tomorrow, we can squash Mary into the nursery, she won’t mind. Then tomorrow, after the wedding breakfast here, you can ride home as Mrs. Bingley. And they can go home.”

“What about you? When do you come . . .” Jane began, but as she started to say the words, she stopped. She gulped.

“My home is here. And Pemberley.”

Jane nodded in acceptance. But Lizzy thought better.

“But let’s have the ball! Mr. Darcy and I can remain in London for a brief time and come to visit you and Mr. Bingley at Netherfield Park on our way north. The neighborhood will forgive missing a church ceremony so long as you still have your ball.”

As the two Bennet sisters embraced, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley took that as their cue to approach. As all parties agreed in the broadest strokes about the plan, Mr. Bingley promptly bowed to Elizabeth, shocking both sisters.

“I have offered, that is, I am most vexed and embarrassed by the conduct of my sister, Caroline, and I have apologized to Mr. Darcy. But, her slander and writings have affected you the most, Miss Elizabeth—” Charles Bingley bumbled an apology for the letters they discovered at Netherfield Park, prompting their immediate flight to London.

“Charles,” Elizabeth injected, testing the man’s Christian name to make him cease his babbling. When Mr. Bingley grinned, Elizabeth knew her gesture had made the intended mark. With a flicker of self-doubt, her eyes rested on the chef and housekeeper, still keeping their distance, but very much in the room. A small nod from Fitzwilliam put her back at ease, and she reached out for the hand of her soon-to-be brother by marriage. “You and Jane shall always be welcome in our homes. But Caroline Bingley will never again enjoy my notice or hospitality.”

Charles violently shook his head at such a paltry punishment. “But that is precisely what I was telling Darcy, what she has done this time is so far beyond what she has ever attempted before,” he argued, releasing Elizabeth’s hand of friendship. He turned on the spot in agitation, and Jane reached out to soothe him. “No, she must have graver consequences than that. She must! To think, my own sister would sell lies to a town gossip!”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and looked at Fitzwilliam for help, but he remained silent. She weighed what to say in front of the house staff she barely knew. The only truth in the lines was her family’s scandal, and it was already printed in the papers. Elizabeth reasoned the senior Darcy staff could certainly read and so it was not a complete breach to speak about the matter.

“But it was not all lies. I have never been Mr. Darcy’s mistress. But I don’t believe Miss Bingley to be the sole perpetrator. The editors of the Times are not so stupid as to take the account of only one source. Our sister did elope. And there are far too many to know this truth for it to remain a secret,” Elizabeth explained, without revealing who was the other source. Jane could tell Mr. Bingley about the interview with Mr. Darcy’s aunts at her leisure.

“Ha! Caroline would hate her secrets published for the world to read!” Mr. Bingley continued, as Jane tried to placate him. Despite her please, Mr. Bingley continued to feel aggrieved over his sister’s transgression. Mr. Northam stepped forward with a drink he had poured for Mr. Bingley, and the man accepted the spirit heartily, still muttering under his breath about the injustice of it all.

When Jane could not end Mr. Bingley’s outburst, she attempted to steer the conversation back to the more pressing matter: their combined nuptials.

“Why won’t you come with us to talk to Mama and Papa?” Jane’s eyes darted to Mr. Bingley as though to communicate her lack of confidence in performing their portion of the plan.

Elizabeth smiled and grasped Mr. Darcy’s hand. “I have to help make the decisions for tomorrow and then I must make a call with Mr. Lamont Scudamore.”

Jane didn’t quite understand, as Elizabeth had not told her everything yet about her time in London. The carriage ride that morning to Matlock House afforded time to hear about Caroline Bingley’s treachery and to fill Jane in about much of what had happened since leaving Hertfordshire, but she had not fully explained the privilege that came with marrying Mr. Darcy.

“And what if Papa will not listen to me? He always listens to you, Lizzy,” Jane pleaded. Instead of Mr. Darcy or her sister answering, Mr. Bingley returned to the conversation and set Jane at ease.

“We shall tell Mrs. Bennet first. There is not a day of peace in that man’s future if he dares go against his lady in this!” Mr. Bingley jested, earning a reluctant laugh from his friend and the two Bennet sisters, as the two Darcy staff stood, awkwardly, holding back any reaction.

Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled with hunger, and the betrothed quartet laughed. 

“Mr. Northam?” Mr. Darcy requested and the man smiled, rushing out the door to have refreshments brought to the parlor straight away.

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps tell aunt there will be two more for dinner this evening?” she asked, as a means of dismissing her sister. The two sisters shared an embrace, and Mr. Bingley whisked Jane away, jubilantly exclaiming how shall be a married man in the morning if all came to fruition.

Standing in the parlor alone with Mr. Darcy and his housekeeper, Elizabeth realized that she might never tell Jane everything about her life again. Jane hadn’t even asked about Elizabeth visiting Mr. Lamont, and it was yet another clear indication that long ago, the two sisters’ paths diverted.

A tray of refreshments arrived and Elizabeth gave her husband to be a private glance of surprise at the efficiency of the house. Seeing the rows of pastries and small cakes, as well as cheeses and meats, she offered her compliments to Mr. Northam.

“I thank you, Chef, for the delectable array. Is your kitchen always so prompt in reading one’s mind?” she teased.

Mr. Northam beamed with pride. “My kitchen? Non, these were ordered so my mistress may select items for the wedding breakfast. However, once we are aware of your favorites, like the Master and Miss Georgiana, I shall be sure to always have them on hand when you are in residence,” he said, his eyes glistening slightly as he accepted the compliment for him and his staff.

Mr. Darcy leaned forward. “Mr. Northam is eagerly anticipating the many society dinners he believes I will hold once I am married. Should I disappoint him or will you?” he asked, with a jest.

Elizabeth picked up a small cake and offered it to Mr. Darcy to try. “I like this one, lemon I believe?” she asked, and Mr. Northam nodded. Once Mr. Darcy bit into the cake, Elizabeth took the moment to answer him. “Oh, he won’t be disappointed. Our table will be the most exclusive seat in all of London once I am finished making my mark. After all, how can we properly shun those who ought to be shunned if we do not hold any balls and dinners for them to desperately covet an invitation?”

Mr. Darcy choked on the cake as both Mr. Northam and Mrs. Hathersage clapped politely in support of their new mistress. 

Leaving her future husband to clear his throat, Elizabeth escorted the chef and housekeeper over to the seating area where she impressed them by inviting them to take a seat. Both were startled by the suggestion but accepted the grace of a woman so eager to make a good first impression with two people who would dictate the comforts of her future life. 

The menus and plans decorating for the wedding were spread before her on the table. Mr. Northam and Mrs. Hathersage launched into explaining the particulars and Elizabeth tried to follow their very eager tones and small arguments over who was responsible for what. 

Across the parlor, the same watercolor Elizabeth had admired the last time she was in the home caught her eye again. She reasoned it had to be a prospect at Pemberley. Feeling vulnerable, she turned and gestured for Mr. Darcy to take a seat next to her on the sofa. Ever the attentive suitor, Mr. Darcy carried the tray from the side table to the main table in the middle of the seating area.

Mr. Northam and Mrs. Hathersage ceased explaining the status of the wines to gawk at the Master performing a servants’ task. But they said nothing as Elizabeth thanked him for his care and prepared a small plate from the samples offered.

“Please, do continue. Mr. Marlow, the butler, recommended a vintage from 1782?” she asked.

“The year my parents were married,” Mr. Darcy remarked with a tone lighter than his usual deep baritone. Elizabeth believed the man was touched by such care shown by people in his employ. Gently, she placed her hand upon his arm and caught his attention to share a smile. She suddenly felt like Mr. Bingley when he left: she would be Mrs. Darcy before planning another meal!

All of the suggestions made in their honor stunned Elizabeth into silence. She agreed with most of the choices for food and how to handle the last-minute guests but declined any rooms to be prepared for her family. 

“My family will leave for Hertfordshire before noon. My father will not wish to travel after dark,” she explained. 

When all of the decisions had been made, Mr. Darcy brushed his hand against hers as he stood and then offered the same hand for hers. Elizabeth accepted his assistance up from the couch while he called for his carriage to be readied.

As soon as the staff stepped out of the room for a moment, Mr. Darcy stole a quick kiss from his bride. Elizabeth blushed as a maid soon entered the parlor and stood silently next to the door. 

“Mr. Darcy, it is bad luck,” she warned.

But he gave her a wink. “Darcys make their luck,” he said, whispering in her ear. Then in a louder voice, he announced that he would leave her to refresh herself for a few moments and meet her back in the foyer to leave for their meeting at the bank.

The young maid approached Elizabeth and offered to show her to the small room of refuge down the private hallway she knew well. Feeling like a princess, she felt grateful that Mr. Darcy had a sister. The man always seemed to anticipate her needs before she needed to embarrass either of them with such mundane matters.

A new anxiousness clutched in her breast about suddenly living with Mr. Darcy after tomorrow morning, and she felt shy and exposed at such a notion. The neglect of her parents began the tension of a headache flashing across her mind. She had no personal maid, nor any idea how to arrange her personal effects to be transported from Cheapside to Mayfair. Would her uncle’s staff see to it or Mr. Darcy’s? 

“Ma’am, should I fetch Mrs. Hathersage?” the young maid asked.

“No, no,” Elizabeth reassured the maid, trying to remember her name. “Molly? Sally?”

“Polly, Ma’am.”

“Polly. No, please, I am well, simply allowing my thoughts to run away with me,” Elizabeth explained. As she finished checking her appearance in the glass hung on the wall for such a purpose, likely used many times in the past when the old Mr. and Mrs. Darcy entertained the best of London society, she asked the young Polly if she was a lady’s maid.

The poor girl blushed and looked down. “Oh no, Miss, er Miss Bennet, I joined the household just after summer.”

Elizabeth frowned that a solution to her problem had not appeared as tidily as so many other solutions had of late. Still, she was to see Mr. Lamont Scudamore, and perhaps he could advise her as he had promised. After she signed the papers, of course.