* * *
“I almost made a terrible mistake,” Mary admitted, speaking to Elizabeth later in the privacy of her chamber. “I accepted Mr Collins’s word regarding the intelligence and rationality of Lady Catherine, and was inclined to accept him. How stupid must she be to believe that she could possibly alter Mr Darcy’s opinion of you in such a senseless manner, by a means so ham-handed and coarse as to surely put his back up!”
“Since Lady Catherine apparently abandoned Mr Collins to us, I thought perhaps he was not of the same mind as his patroness.”
“Oh, he always planned to take the post home, for he meant to stay a few nights, and her ladyship did not. Of course, had Mr Collins been as appalled with her behaviour as I was, I would not have blamed him for her actions. Instead, he began by advising me that I must warn my sister against following through with a marriage to which she had already committed! Apparently, Lady Catherine spent the entire journey to Longbourn lecturing him on how he was to use his influence with me to force you to change your mind, lest he change his.”
“That was certainly…bold.”
“I told him that if the price of his happiness was the ruin of another’s,hemight be glad to pay it, butIwould not. I also suggested several verses of scripture he might wish to study regarding the fate of those who put their own selfish desires ahead of their fellow man, and none of which were aboutsubmission. Then I asked him whether he remembered meeting Charlotte Lucas, who might have more patience with his self-interest than I do.”
It was all Elizabeth could do to suppress a giggle. “Well said, Mary! Thank you for your defence of my engagement and my feelings. I do hope Mr Collins was not so upset as to be less than dignified in his response.”
Mary appeared thoughtful. “I believe he was a bit embarrassed, because he knew I was correct. At the same time, I suppose he realised that I would not make him a very comfortable wife.”
“Was he offended at the mention of Charlotte?”
“No, not at all. He was certain they had been introduced but could not recall her face, thus I offered to bring him to Lucas Lodge to present him again. Charlotte, of course, was very agreeable to him, and I escaped as soon as I could. He might have watched me go with a bit of regret, but he will accustom himself to a change of spouses, I have no doubt.”
“What of you? Are you disappointed not to be marrying yet?”
Mary gave it serious thought—as she did everything. “I believe I am disappointed that he was not the man I hoped he could be. But it is best to know it now, before one is committed to a life of misery, is it not?”
Elizabeth pledged herself, then and there, to do her utmost to look after Mary’s future happiness. As she lay in bed that night, she reflected how much better it was to be astonished by a lover’s goodness than to be disillusioned by his flaws.
It was the final day of the year. The wedding breakfast was attended, Elizabeth observed, by most of the neighbourhood, and Netherfield’s dining parlour was full to overflowing. If her mother had been unable to do everything she wanted to, she had certainly done more than enough. Mr Goulding sent a lovely gift, a set of Sèvres porcelain dishes elegant enough to serve royalty. It was accompanied by a note wishing Elizabeth and Darcy every joy. The idea had occurred to her that within a year or two, Mary—pragmatic and the opposite of Elizabeth in nearly every way—might very well be longing to have her own home and could be happy as Mrs Goulding. Mr Goulding was, as her father had insisted, not so elderly as she had once asserted, and Mary was an old soul. Well, she would see what she and Darcy could do, and no matter what, Mary’s choices would always remain her own.
Mr Collins and his soon-to-be-bride, Charlotte, were here with the rest of the Lucases. He had returned to Meryton yesterday, presumably as eager to escape the wrath of his patroness as to attend the nuptials. If he glanced at Mary occasionally with longing in his eyes, neither Charlotte nor Mary seemed to notice.
Lydia and Kitty were unusually subdued. After the discovery several days before of a letter from Mr Wickham to Lydia—with Kitty complicit in the correspondence—their father, acting on the advice of Darcy and with his assistance, had immediately hired them a sort of governess-companion. Miss Shaw was a sensible individual who they were rapidly learning was not to be crossed, and yet who was spirited and wise enough to help them occupy their minds with more than flirtations. The youngest Bennets had been promised visits to London and a much broader social sphere, but only with great improvement to their manners and general behaviour.
Toasts to the happy couples were offered by many—amusing ones, such as his gregarious cousin the colonel proposed, and touching ones as well: Mr Bennet’s humble words of love and relief took Elizabeth another few steps towards forgiveness. Even Georgiana had shyly offered a pledge of her great happiness for her brother and new sister, if a quiet one, heard only by them. If Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley did not appear overly enthusiastic, they were at least gracious and mannerly and had offered Mrs Bennet every assistance in planning the event.
Mrs Bennet looked about her with shining eyes; in Elizabeth’s opinion, having two daughters married, and to such rich men, had a wonderful effect upon her mother’s health. She appeared years younger than she had only a few weeks previous, almost sparkling—and Elizabeth saw her father noticing the alteration, too, with less of sarcasm and more of interest than was his wont.
It was Darcy, however, who brought tears to Elizabeth’s eyes. It was after all those who had raised a glass had finished speaking and Mr Bingley made a little speech thanking everyone for coming to share in their happiness. Elizabeth had even begun to wonder whether she could slip upstairs to change into her new—and very smart—carriage dress. She was excited to be on her way to London, where she and Darcy would begin married life together. They would go to Pemberley as soon as the weather was more certain.
Darcy stood, and such was his natural eminence and gravity, that the room immediately quieted.
“It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that I did not begin on the best footing in this neighbourhood,” he said, eliciting a few chuckles. “I would like to publicly retract a statement I thoughtlessly made once upon a time and offer a different one. My wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, is the most beautiful creature in the world, in case anyone was in doubt of my feelings on the matter.” There was laughter, applause, and even a whistle or two, probably from one of the youngest Lucas boys, judging by the way Lady Lucas appeared to be scolding them.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, his deep chocolate gaze unwavering; for a moment there was no one else in the room, before he again addressed them all.
“When I was young, I was very badly used. Due to those experiences, I was on guard against most everyone. There were very few able to see past that—but thank you, Bingley, for trying.”
There was more laughter, but it was softer, less…humorous, somehow.
“A man who trusts no one can love no one. Oh, he might peer over the top of the wall which surrounds him to occasionally admire another—but no, there is not room within such a fortress to be vulnerable, to be open, to allow others to know him. The only person whose feelings truly matter is one’s own self. Such I was, from seven to seven and twenty, determined to never prove myself a fool again, and such I might still have been—remaining aloof and closed off for the rest of my life, had not my eyes been opened to true beauty, courage, wit, and kindness by the new Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth reached up to take his hand. He squeezed it, but he was not finished, and drew her up to his side, looking into her eyes.
“It is very likely that I shall say many stupid things in the course of what I pray is a very long life together.” There were a few more chuckles.
She smiled up at him. “Surely not.”
He did not return her smile. “Knowing this, I beg leave to pledge, before all these witnesses, a vow in addition to the ones I made before God this morning. I will replace my guard against all and sundry with trust in everyone, at least until they prove unworthy of it.”
Her mouth opened, just a little, in surprise. “I am not certain, husband, that such a…a conviction is wise.”
