Miss Bingley stepped immediately into her place. “Charles tells me Mrs Reynolds has left your employment, Mr Darcy. I hope it had nothing to do with her dislike of Miss Eliza.”
Darcy fixed her with an incredulous glare. “Excuse me?”
“Caroline, desist at once!” Bingley hissed.
“No, I insist. What is your meaning, madam?” Darcy made no effort to constrain his displeasure, and Miss Bingley floundered in the face of it.
“Only that my maid mentioned Miss Eliza seemed to be in disfavour with your housekeeper while we were there last month. But I…I know nothing more than that. Forgive me, I ought not to have mentioned it.”
“No,” he said darkly, and turned his back on her. He could hear Bingley admonishing her in hushed tones behind him, but he found he was less angry with Miss Bingley than he was with Mrs Reynolds. That the woman had plotted against him was bad enough. That she had spoken openly against Elizabeth amongst the other servants, exposing her to God knew what rancour and dissent in her new home, was entirely another. Not that it would be tolerated. He would sooner dismiss the entire household and start from scratch before he subjected Elizabeth to any unpleasantness of that sort.
“Is something the matter?” Linseagh enquired quietly.
“I have just been reminded of what awaits me at Pemberley.”
His cousin cast a quick, quizzical look in Elizabeth’s direction. “I must say, I think what awaits you at Pemberley now is a darned sight pleasanter than that scowl implies.”
Fitzwilliam grinned. “Careful, Brother. He will have you out on the lawn at sunrise if you say much more.”
Their teasing ran long, but since it mostly consisted of praise for Elizabeth, Darcy gave no complaint and instead allowed it to rally him back into good humour.
A delightful hour was passed before Elizabeth and her sister were required to return home. Darcy rode alongside their carriage to Longbourn, where he and Elizabeth petitioned Mr Bennet together. Notwithstanding that they had his permission to wed, prudence demanded that, after Lydia’s misadventure, he be allowed to sanction the licence. It was more a courtesy than a true entreaty, but it would place a necessary distinction between Darcy’s conduct and Wickham’s.
Mr Bennet turned out not to be the problem; it was his wife who threw up all manner of obstacles to their plan. Elizabeth privately expressed her vexation at it until it became clear her mother’s resistance was born more of affection than obstinacy, how far away she would be at Pemberley becoming an oft-repeated lament. When there were no objections left, Mrs Bennet appealed to Darcy directly to take care of ‘her sweetest Lizzy’. He gave his word. It was the easiest promise he had ever made.
The only other objection came, surprisingly, from Bingley.
“Are you quite certain Lizzy is happy with all this haste, Darcy?” he asked after dinner the next day. The ladies had withdrawn, but not before Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had bored the whole table with talk of the many obligations and invitations they felt must be honoured before their brother could even contemplate saying his vows.
“Areyousure Miss Bennet is happy with all this delay?” Fitzwilliam replied. “Anyone would think your sisters are attempting to defer your nuptials for so long you forget you said you would marry her in the first place.”
“Oh, they probably are,” Bingley replied. “They are never content with whatever makes me happy. But a November wedding suits Jane and me well. So I must ask you again, Darcy, are you sure Lizzy is not feeling rushed? Apparently, you are not even granting her the comfort of your house in town on your wedding night.”
“That would rather defeat the object of marrying in haste so that we might return to Pemberley.”
“I suppose, but would one night make that much difference?”
“My London housekeeper is presently en route to Pemberley. We deemed it more sensible not to open the house again.” He sipped his drink and tried not to be provoked by his friend’s prying. “Are there any other of my plans for which you would like me to account?”
Bingley winced contritely. “Her sister is concerned that she has agreed to all this only to please you.”
Darcy could not help but smile. “You may tell Jane not to concern herself. Marrying quickly was Elizabeth’s idea.”
After a brief pause of obvious surprise, Bingley chuckled lightly. “In that case, I propose a toast to your certain felicity, my friend.”
Darcy accepted the toast, as he accepted a swathe of others over the next few days, both before and on the day of his wedding, though he was not truly interested in anyone’s approbation by then. He wanted only to take Elizabeth home, and even the blessedly short time he had to wait to do it was too long for his liking.
* * *
It was on a crisp, sunny morning in early October that Darcy and Elizabeth drove away from Meryton as husband and wife.
For a good while after the carriage passed out of view of their friends and family, Darcy simply held Elizabeth. She had removed her bonnet and nestled against him beneath the travel blanket without a word. He marvelled at the way she had fitted herself against him, her form sinuously aligned with his and not a stitch of daylight between them. She had hooked her foot over his shin to hold herself in situ. It was artlessly done, and effective, but achingly arousing. Her hair smelled of perfumed soap, and he treasured this new freedom to cleave her to him for long enough to heed it. He savoured the easy familiarity that existed between them—a stark and exquisite contrast to the awkwardness that had marred so much of their acquaintance. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said a silent prayer of thanks.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You are not too sad to be leaving, I hope,” he said softly.
“I am not sad at all. I shall miss Jane dearly, but I am so happy, it will be an age before I notice.”
