Chapter 29 Happy Was The Day

The buzzing in her head drowned out any memory of leaving the bank or arriving a block away from Barclays Bank to the Gardiner townhome in Cheapside.

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy repeated her Christian name, despite the maid from Darcy House and her new lady’s maid, Antoinette Chardin, sitting across from them in the carriage. Elizabeth startled in the seat next to him when her eyes refocused on him in the dark carriage.

“You have scarcely said a word since we left the bank,” he stated.  The evening air brought November’s harshest sting of cold. He cupped his gloved hands and blew into them as the carriage lurched to a stop in the road at their destination.

“Do you think Mr. Bingley secured a special license?” she asked, realizing she could say nothing about her meeting with Mr. Lamont. Especially not with Ms. Chardin present. Her new maid suddenly felt like a spy in her midst.

“Bingley’s business is his own,” he answered, with a slight edge to his voice. But then he sighed and softened his tone. “There was ample enough time. If I am honest, it matters to me not a whit if Charles and your sister marry with us. I am only concerned if you will be there tomorrow morning at the appointed time.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in an expression she knew he found endearing. “Is it too late to change the time to sunrise instead of 8 o’clock in the morning?” she asked and earned a quick peck upon her cheek as both maids cleared their throats, casting their gazes elsewhere.

“Mr. Darcy, you shock my maids,” she charged, earning his laughter.

After the footman opened the door and Mr. Darcy aided Elizabeth out of the carriage, the townhome door opened and Mrs. Bennet practically shoved the poor Gardiner butler out of the way.

“Mr. Darcy, so good to see you again, sir!” she exclaimed, greeting the man as though they were close acquaintances and she had not practically disinvited him from her home in their last visit. “Your note was ever so kind. To think, married tomorrow! Well, I am most happy to have been mistaken, and Lizzy!”

Mr. Darcy bowed in response to acknowledge Elizabeth’s mother but did not speak any words to the woman. 

Elizabeth soon found herself the recipient of her mother’s jubilations, impeding their ability to walk inside and out of the chill. 

“Mama, is Papa still here?” Elizabeth managed as she extricated herself from her mother’s effusions, and accepted Mr. Darcy’s arm to walk up the steps into the house.

“Still here?” her mother chirped behind her, “well, of course, he is still here. After that nasty business in the paper and Mr. Darcy’s note, why we all agree that there is nothing to be gained by waiting two weeks to wed in Hertfordshire. And to think, both of my girls will marry by special license!”

The family party waited in the parlor, but Elizabeth excused herself upstairs for a small repast. The maid from Darcy House was sent back, and Antoinette Chardin followed her mistress to the room she shared with Jane. 

Removing her bonnet and gloves, Elizabeth laid them on the bed as Antoinette reached quickly to store them away properly. Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the woman’s efficiency and suspected her aunt did a great deal more than merely interview the woman with how she knew where everything was already placed in the room. 

“Did my aunt arrange for your lodgings tonight?” Elizabeth asked, and the new maid shook her head. 

“I shall return to Darcy House with Mr. Darcy this evening. I shall return early tomorrow morning in the carriage to convey you, your sister, and your father to the house, ma’am, if that pleases you.”

Elizabeth laughed, the fairytale she was living amidst the ignorance of her entire family delighted her love of irony. A second daughter, with practically no dowry, would become possibly the richest woman beside the Queen of England come morning! Meanwhile, all of London thought her to be a harlot of the worst sort, and that thought made her stomach sick with dread. She covered her face with her hands as she tried to pinch her cheeks and ensure all was real, that she had not lost her senses somewhere along the way and lived in a fantasy world of her own concoction. 

Antoinette aided Elizabeth in her toilette and changing her frock for dinner. When the wardrobe was opened, the furnishing was stuffed to capacity! But it was not Jane’s gowns.

“Oh dear, the order arrived!” Elizabeth lamented, and she and her new maid shared a look of mutual surprise. “I shall have to buy so many more gowns as Mrs. Darcy, won’t I?”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. Though once I know your preferences and we settle on a modiste, I can arrange for silks to be made and sent for your approval. We also can find you a double, madam.” Antoinette shared, expertly, clicking her tongue in disapproval of the sloppy manner in which the gowns were hung.

“A double?” Elizabeth asked, believing she could guess the concept, but wishing for clarity all the same. With her maid, she refused to put on airs and diminish her reputation by pretending to know more than she did. Until proven disloyal, Elizabeth would have to trust the woman with the most intimate portions of her life. As the future Mrs. Darcy, Lizzy resolved herself to live a new style of life than she was accustomed to at Longbourn.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have the maids at Darcy House measured, and find one with your measurements. I would never think to detain you from your responsibilities for a fitting.”

“Antoinette, you have just rescued me from my least favorite activity: shopping!” Elizabeth said, making the woman smile in solidarity. After Antoinette pulled the pins in Elizabeth’s hair to redo the styling, the woman massaged her long fingers between her mistress’ tresses, gifting a luxury Elizabeth had never enjoyed before. Sharing a maid between five sisters never afforded much time for individual attention, and Elizabeth was no favorite to Betsy.

Admiring Antoinette’s handiwork in the mirror, Mary Bennet entered the room to greet her sister. Elizabeth stood up and pulled her into an embrace, apologizing for ruining her sister’s escape back to Hertfordshire.

“Are you jesting? I am to attend the wedding and Kitty is not! Do you know how long I have been jealous of her and Lydia always invited to neighbors for visits?” Mary grinned with the youthful mischievousness Elizabeth had overlooked so often in her most serious sister. 

“All the same, and poor Kitty!” Elizabeth said, realizing how cruel the cut to poor Kitty would be. 

As Antoinette prepared the gown Elizabeth had worn all day for the laundry, she checked the pockets of the gown to discover a folded letter.

“Miss?” the maid asked, and Elizabeth accepted the letter that Mr. Darcy had given her earlier. 

“I must hurry downstairs, but I do not wish to forget again,” she reasoned, opening the missive to find four pages, front and back, full of congratulations and excitement on Georgiana Darcy’s part for her new sister. Elizabeth skimmed over the lines and smiled as the long list of activities the young woman hoped to hold now that she would have a companion and older woman to perform as host reminded her of how long the girl had been without a mother. It was little wonder that Fitzwilliam was so affectionate now that he had found love, living alone for so many years had likely been such a burden.

Carefully, Elizabeth placed Georgiana’s letter in her correspondence case, rationalizing that she would write a response the following day.

“Mama says that married women never have time to write,” Mary mentioned as Elizabeth closed the case and prepared to rejoin the family party with her sister. 

“And what would you know about that?” Elizabeth asked, leaving the maid and feeling a small tinge of sadness as Mary laughed. Tonight would be her last evening with her family for a long time, and even though she knew it was right and proper to marry Mr. Darcy, the exchange of loved ones still stung.

The Gardiner dining room accommodated the Bennet family and two suitors, with plenty of room for comfort. Not so much room as Darcy House. While her aunt had purchased several fresh blossoms for the table and the candles appeared new, the spread could not rival the offerings of Mayfair. Still, Mr. Darcy complimented his hostess on the lovely setting and thanked her for the meal, with Mr. Bingley following his friend’s lead. 

The first course arrived at the table and Elizabeth enjoyed her aunt’s efforts to place her favorite dishes well within her reach. She and her sister flanked the opposing middle sections of the table, each sitting next to the man they hoped to spend the rest of their days with. 

“I am astounded you were able to make so many arrangements without me, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said, having been seated next to Mr. Darcy at her own insistence. She had just learned from the man all of the preparations they began at Darcy House, and how Mr. Darcy would provide a carriage in the morning to take the brides and their parents to Mayfair for the ceremony.

“Mr. Bingley, did you procure a special license?” Elizabeth asked, and the man nodded. 

Mr. Bingley lifted his wine goblet and toasted to his friend. “Thanks to a letter of introduction, the Archbishop reluctantly signed his permission.”

Elizabeth nonchalantly reached under the table to find Mr. Darcy’s leg and gently patted his upper thigh in thanks. Mr. Darcy scraped his knife and fork slightly off rhythm but recovered so quickly from the startling offer of affection that no one noticed his reaction. 

But Elizabeth did. She smiled to herself as she drank from her wine and looked away, only to catch her aunt’s eye. Mrs. Gardiner raised an eyebrow at her niece, and Elizabeth brought her hand up to the table so that both of her hands may be seen, like a misbehaving young girl.

“And did you sign your papers, my child?” Mr. Bennet interrogated the daughter who had just checked Mr. Bingley’s progress. 

“Indeed, I have.”

The first course cleared, the conversation continued on all that was polite, and even Mary began to join in the discussions of the following day’s plans. 

“Do you expect a large number at the wedding breakfast with such short notice?” Mary asked, in earnest. 

Mr. Darcy smiled warmly at the younger Bennet sister. “Perhaps not so many if we had married in a church, but after this morning’s wretched gossip, I expect many will not be able to resist.”

Elizabeth gasped. “Is that what Colonel Fitzwilliam is employed in? Did he make sure word spread about our plans?”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “With a handful of carefully selected allies.” He dug into the marbled veal on his plate.

“Do not tell me his regiment is aiding in our affairs!” Elizabeth countered, and Mr. Darcy choked on his mouthful of food.

Coughing, he quickly covered his mouth with his serviette, while his face turned beet red. “No, pardon me, no,” he said, reaching for his wine. “But he will be very cross when I share with him that we had not thought of such an efficiency.”

Mr. Bennet used the short silence to attract his daughter’s attention. 

“Lizzy?” he asked, and she immediately turned to answer her father’s calls.

Mr. Bennet served himself a slice of woodcock pie and did not make eye contact with his daughter. “Was the settlement all that you hoped for?” he asked.

“Hoped for?” Mrs. Bennet leaned forward and injected herself into the conversation. “Hoped for? We all knew Mr. Darcy was worth ten thousand a year. What was there to hope for? Of course, she received a good settlement from Mr. Darcy, why would such a man wish his wife poor?”

Mr. Gardiner, his wife, Elizabeth, and Mr. Bingley all coughed at Mrs. Bennet’s rudeness to bring up such a tasteless subject. Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy smiled and spoke to his future mother-in-law directly.

“Mrs. Bennet, I am afraid I must disabuse you of the notion that I earn ten thousand a year,” he said, as solemn as announcing someone’s demise.

“You do not?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice shook as she suddenly worried that perhaps her sister’s husband and her own husband had been right that Mr. Darcy was a cad.

“Indeed. I am afraid the amount shared in gossip has been grossly incorrect for some time.”

Mrs. Bennet clutched at her favorite broach she wore for luck when she was invited to the smartest events. Her pudgy fingers traced the filigree edge and Elizabeth watched as her father scowled, guessing the ruse that Mr. Darcy perpetrated.

“How, how so?” Mrs. Bennet managed to ask.

Mr. Darcy leaned in and lowered his voice to a husky stage whisper for the table’s entertainment. “It has been grossly underestimated,” he said, with a devilish grin, relishing Mrs. Bennet’s screech of joy that the circumstances were not different. 

As the table politely chuckled at Mr. Darcy’s folly and Mrs. Bennet’s overreaction, a fit of nerves she brought upon herself, Elizabeth felt an unwanted sour taste build in her mouth. Grasping her wine goblet to remove it, she swished the beverage around in her mouth and decided that while her mother deserved her treatment, it did not sit well for her to have Mr. Darcy mimic her father’s cruelty. 

Leaning over, she made sure to speak quietly so that only he could hear.

“I feel I am duty-bound to inform you, sir, that yours is not the only income heavily underestimated.”

“Is that correct?” he said, again keeping his features unaffected by the subject at hand.

“Mmm, I thought you ought to know that upon marrying you, my income will be such . . .” she trailed off as she realized a sudden conflict arose in her breast. The room she had visited in the bank, the amount of money presumably in the trust, the facts she did not possess: all clues that added up to a loud, desperate warning to remain discrete. Her mouth ran dry as the lack of clear threat by Mr. Lamont made her situation even more intimidating.

“If you are uncomfortable with the amount, I am happy to supplement. I warned you that the privilege may not be the fortune you were led to believe it was,” he said curtly, but not unkindly. The dinner party’s conversation was low enough that they both risked attracting the notice of others. It was not the time or place to discuss such matters, but another opportunity before the morning nuptials might not come.

Elizabeth still felt she needed to speak something to him, just in case his ignorance proved to be a bigger problem between them later. “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “I need you to know that upon marrying you in the morning, I will become a very, very wealthy woman.”

“Speak up, Elizabeth! We are all here for the honor of you and Jane. You will have a lifetime to whisper sweet sentiments into your beloved’s ear after tomorrow’s wedding,” Mr. Bennet teased, finding a way to draw attention back to his daughter that he readily admitted he was not ready to lose.

“My beloved shared with me that upon marrying me in the morning, she will become a very wealthy woman,” Mr. Darcy said, with an amused expression as he pondered on what Elizabeth was trying to say to him in mixed company.

“But of course, I will have him!” Elizabeth said, earning the praise and jubilation of the dinner party, ever eager for another reason to raise a glass. “To Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who has done so much for all of us, even more than some of us know!”

“Hear, hear!” Mr. Bingley cheered, draining his glass and then gazing hungrily at Jane. Witnessing her sister blush, Elizabeth suddenly suspected that Jane was not so ignorant of the reasons why married women had no time to write.

The rest of dinner continued and Elizabeth realized she was famished after the first few bites. Since breaking her fast in the morning, she had not properly eaten a meal and her body protested the neglect with a ravenous appetite. She also found that if her mouth was chewing food, she could not possibly respond to the increasingly raucous teasing and roasting her older family members engaged in. All was meant in good fun, but with two daughters to enter the married state in the morning, both married couples at the table felt honor-bound to offer their sage advice for a happy union.

“And no matter what your wife tells you if she claims to not be upset and your observations state otherwise, do not believe her,” Mr. Gardiner wisely counseled his soon-to-be nephews by marriage.

Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Bennet objected simultaneously to the man who was the husband of one and impertinent younger brother of the other. Mrs. Bennet spoke first in chastisement.

“Are you calling your dear and loveliest wife, and our glorious hostess, I might add, a liar?” Mrs. Bennet charged, and Elizabeth and Jane shared a sisterly glance. It was easy to forget that their parents and aunt and uncle were not that much older than they were. Both knew their father had been nearly Mr. Darcy’s age when he married, but their mother was much closer to Lydia’s age when the banns were read. 

Each bride became pensive while the drinking and eating carried on, leading to more indiscreet behavior.

“Nay, never a liar, but a brilliant, masterful,” Mr. Gardiner paused to lift his drink, raising his glass in his wife’s honor, before twisting his expression into a mocking smile of mischief, “SCHEMING TASKMASTER, I WOULD MOST CERTAINLY CREDIT HER!” he shouted, practically for all of London to hear. 

All three Bennet sisters’ mouths dropped in horror while Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner howled with laughter, joined in by Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner. Upon their host and hostess laughing, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley tentatively joined in, but Elizabeth and Jane could only shake their heads at each other from across the table.

“Do not be prudish, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet chided. “Laughter is the medicine to many a marital squabble.”

“Indeed!” Mrs. Gardiner said, wiping her eyes with her serviette. “You have no idea how troublesome your uncle is to manage! If I was not such a brilliant, masterful, and, dear, what was that last word?” she asked.

“SCHEMING!” he shouted with a rowdy roar.

“Yes, SCHEMING” she shouted, with a much higher pitch in her voice, followed by a hiccough, “yes, yes, if I was not all those things, do you think your uncle’s business would be half so successful, hmm?” 

Elizabeth grinned and found Mr. Darcy’s hand under the table to give it a quick squeeze. She suddenly recalled the shopping trip with her aunt, where it was quite clear her aunt’s prowess for business negotiations had lined the coffers of Mr. Gardiner’s trading establishment.

“And what about Mama?” Jane asked, goading her father into bestowing a similar compliment to their mother.

Instead of the youthful exuberance of Mr. Gardiner, the man raised his glass with a twinkle in his eye. “Your mother saved me from a fate worse than death, over two decades ago,” he said, mysteriously. Mrs. Bennet blushed, and Mary piped up asking for more details. But their father brushed her inquiry off. “To my old friend,” he said, raising his glass, and the party became more somber. 

When an awkward silence fell over the dinner table, Mr. Bennet nodded to Mr. Gardiner and the man announced that if everyone was finished, they might separate. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable at such a prospect and both she and Jane began to protest together, only to be hushed by their aunt.

“Fret not, the gentlemen will join us in the parlor before they leave,” Mrs. Gardiner announced, catching her husband’s eye. “So says the scheming one, yes?”

“Yes, dear,” Mr. Gardiner said in a defeated tone for comic relief, restoring the jubilant mood before each member excused themselves to separate by sex.