“And if I should win this wager, what do I get?” Mrs Bennet asked.
“If you win,” Elizabeth said, “then whomsoever I marry, I shall marry in this gown, and you may plan things to your heart’s content. We have our witness right here to confirm it.”
She gave the maid a little wink, and the maid seemed to suppress a smile as she agreed.
When Darcy leftLongbourn following Jane and Bingley’s wedding breakfast, Mrs Bennet was no doubt quite certain she had won her wager with Elizabeth. She seemed less sure, however, when he reappeared two days later and asked to see Mr Bennet. He was shown into the master’s study immediately while Mrs Bennet and her daughters straightened themselves and began sending eager but questioning looks around the room, save for Elizabeth who avoided any telling expressions.
“If it was Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Mrs Bennet, “I might have been more certain. He seemed to be paying her a bit more attention, but I put it down to her being one of the few from Hertfordshire that he was acquainted with.”
Elizabeth who had just then risen to quit the room, smiled to herself at that. “As it is,” she told her mother, “the colonel was quite taken with Lady Harriet Thorpe. Who knows how many weddings might spring forth from Jane’s?”
She entered her father’s study moments later to see him regarding Darcy somewhat dubiously. “Do not look like that, Papa,” she said as she took the seat that Darcy helped her into and accepted his hand around her own. “I have already told you that Mr Darcy and I have found we were much more in accord than ever we suspected.”
She was grateful she had spoken to her father privately on the subject the day prior. Phrases such as ‘have you gone mad’ and ‘thought you hated him’ would not have been well met in the present circumstance. Mr Bennet was nevertheless somewhat disgruntled and unhappy-looking as Darcy explained to him how much in love he was.
Darcy’s declarations were undoubtedly no little source of astonishment. To hear a man who was widely believed to be taciturn and disagreeable tell her father that she was a woman most worthy of being pleased, that he was in no way her equal but would spend the rest of his days trying to make her happy, that he would every day and in every way feel his good fortune in having her—it was almost too much to bear in its sweetness.
About halfway through these expressions, Mr Bennet appeared to lose some of his churlishness and, indeed, almost smiled when Mr Darcy concluded by saying, “I can only assure you, sir, in the most violent of terms, that I love her more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. Many men say they are the happiest of men when a woman they love accepts their offer, but I truly mean it.”
“And you, Miss Lizzy?” Mr Bennet asked. “Can you give me any such guarantees?”
“I can,” she said softly. “I promise you, Papa, I do not wish to marry to be like Jane, or to become the wife of a great man. I have no thought for wealth or position or any such trivial thing. I have accepted Mr Darcy because I love him and, in truth…” Sheturned to look at her intended and concluded, “I find the idea of living without him quite insupportable.”
Darcy did not exactly smile when she said that, but his countenance warmed and softened, and she had no doubt that her words meant a great deal to him.
“Well then.” Mr Bennet cleared his throat. “I suppose this means more lace and finery is in order.”
“There will be very little lace or finery needed at all,” said Darcy.
They finished each other’s sentences as they explained their plans. A licence would be obtained and, as the Season would be soon at its completion, most of Darcy’s acquaintance would be leaving town for their country seats.
“And therefore,” Elizabeth concluded, “any excess of balls or parties would be undesirable.”
“A small breakfast for family,” Darcy added. “And following that, a wedding trip. After that, with your permission, Elizabeth would like to have her younger sisters come to Pemberley for the autumn.”
“All of them?”
Elizabeth nodded.
Finally, Mr Bennet smiled genuinely. “You have my blessing.”
EPILOGUE
One year later
To make the time of travail pass more quickly, Jane had recommended revisiting, in her mind, all the dearest moments from her first year of marriage. Thus Elizabeth—enormously round, exceedingly sweaty, and with white-hot pain twisting its way up into her abdomen—was attempting to do just that.
Their wedding had been as quiet an event as could be possible when one was related to anyone called Bennet. They married in London. Elizabeth wore a gown that was beautiful, and Darcy had looked so handsome it had taken her breath away. That had never really happened before, that particular lovestruck breathlessness, but it was a real condition, and it struck her hard, so much so that she had scarcely been able to speak her vows.
A deal had been struck between Darcy and his cousins after Bingley’s wedding. He would not reveal to the rest of the men involved that the wager had been mostly farcical. Those who had bet on Fitzwilliam would be rightly outraged if they found out they had been deceived in the colonel’s intentions, andhis honour might have been seriously questioned. To avoid all such unpleasantness, Darcy insisted on half of the winnings. Saye grumbled a bit about that, but as he had made significant progress in courting Miss Goddard by then, he had grown inattentive to most anything else.
It did surprise Darcy to find that George Wickham, of all people, had wagered in his favour, but as Wickham took his winnings and went elsewhere, he did not think on it overmuch.
Darcy then promptly turned over the money—first in small but then in increasingly larger amounts—to Elizabeth’s cousin Philips, to help him set up his business in town. Philips took the sums given and, although sometimes he lost a little, more often than not he gained, often quite substantially. Before a twelvemonth had passed, the name of her cousin’s small firm was on everyone’s lips, and they were beginning to have to turn away would-be investors—though Darcy asked for preference to be given to anyone who had lost money on the infamous wager. It was his own quiet way of redressing any unfairness or wrong against them.
Elizabeth had been deeply touched by his actions. He was a far more generous, more kindly man than she ever might have believed, to Philips as well as to her Gardiner relations. He had even remarked once—a bit indelicately—how different was Mr Gardiner from Mrs Bennet and Mrs Philips. Elizabeth had known exactly what he meant and not been offended.
After another time of agony, Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted to her husband’s family. She had expected a group of people similar to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. While that lady’s brother, the Earl of Matlock, had much resembled her, his temperament was much more jovial. He was a man aware of his position but, like Lord Saye, determined to enjoy it to the fullest extent possible.
