Page 63 of Affectations of Candour

The night was balmy, the air held a salty tang, and the sun had long since sunk into the sea. Farther up the beach, the fire had been allowed to die down. What once had been a huge roaring blaze, heaped with logs of oak and silver birch, was a hissing mass of glowing red embers and acrid greyish-white ash. Only thin columns of smoke wafted into the star-studded sky.

“By now, footmen must be taking everything back to the house. And, as arranged, our three carriages—Bingley’s, your father’s, and my own—must be transporting the neighbours who walked here back to their homes. The tide is rushing in. We must hurry.” They stood; he picked up the lantern and clasped his bride’s hand. She fetched his handkerchief from the log.

As they walked, Darcy peered across the water, searching for the boat anchored just beyond the beach. Satisfied when it floated into view, he stopped and faced Elizabeth. “I have not the temperament to speak in the flowery language of love, nor am I of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth. But with you… You make me happy. Georgiana saw it before I did. Now, I am deeply, deeply in love with you. You bring me to my knees, my darling, and were I not such a proud creature, I would have knelt before you whilst asking you to marry me. By the by, most of our family and friends back there believe I am, at this minute, begging you to be my wife. So again I shall ask, will you marry me?”

“You know I will.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes!”

Darcy slid back the lantern’s shield that had concealed the flame. Holding it up, he signalled to the fire master to set off the display. The man waiting out on the water in a clinker-built rowing punt was actually old Mr Miller, who had been a commissioned officer in the artillery and became deaf because of prolonged exposure to the sound of cannons. He had cleverly constructed a canopy made from fresh green leaves to protect both himself and the boat from the orange and white sparks as fireworks lit up the sky.

From high atop the cliff, Colonel Fitzwilliam could be heard shouting, “She said ‘yes’!”

Amongst the cheers ringing out from those on the lawn in front of the villa, and from somewhere high above the engaged couple, there came a prolonged, shrill cry of delight. Looking up, they spotted Mrs Bennet running towards the fence. They quickly stepped closer to the bank, out of her sight.

“Oh, my dear Lizzy,” she shouted. “And Mr Darcy, too! Pray forgive me, sir, for having disliked you so much before. I hope you will overlook it. Now then, you will and must be married by a special licence, perhaps in a month or two from now. That may give me enough time to choose your wedding clothes, my sweet Lizzy, and… Lizzy? Mr Darcy? Can you hear me? Are you down there?”

The engaged couple were busy setting off their own special kind of spark and fireworks until Elizabeth yelped, “My feet are suddenly cold.”

“You have cold feet already?”

“No. Well, yes. My feet are cold. And wet.”

Wearing tall boots, Darcy had not realised just how fast the tide had rushed in. He passed the lantern to Elizabeth, picked her up, and ran with her in his arms. The water had nearly reached the tops of his Hessians by the time he arrived, panting, at the stone steps. She was slender but an armful.

“My hero!” Elizabeth kissed his jaw.

“The Bakers and their niece and nephew are waiting at the top for you, my love. I expect they wish to be in their carriage and bound for Cliff House straightaway. I shall have to ensure they have enough lanterns to light the way.”

She gasped. “Mr Darcy, how am I to get home? To Longbourn, I mean. There will be no room for me in Papa’s carriage when they all leave the day after tomorrow. Nor can I go with Jane and Mr Bingley, for they will be Scarborough-bound to fetch Miss Bingley and the Hursts.”

Darcy thanked God that he had shilly-shallied concerning Hannah Wright. With Elizabeth, though, he had acted with his customary alertness of mind, neither undecided nor dilatory. Perhaps too hasty, though. “As I understand it, Jasper Hughes will be staying at Cliff House for a fortnight, and my cousin will hire a post-chaise when he leaves. But… Do you want to go home?” he asked, mind racing with possible denouements.

“No, not really, but⁠—”

“Then stay, and meet me tomorrow morning in the church at Wyman’s Cove. While in Bristol, I obtained a common marriage licence from a bishop, one of my Darcy cousins. So, if you are willing, the village vicar has agreed to perform the ceremony at nine o’clock.” He peered at his watch and winced. “Ten hours or so from now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Early on the morning of her wedding, Elizabeth was in her chemise, stays, and stockings, and her hair had been dressed. Every gown she had brought with her from Longbourn was either on the bed, over the chair, or in the hands of Miss Baker, Miss Hughes, or Miss Taylor while the four of them decided which one she should wear to the church. Mr Darcy had seen her in all of them.

There came another knock on her bedchamber door. “Lizzy?”

Flinging open the door, Elizabeth embraced her dearest sister. “I am so glad to see you, but I assumed we were to meet at the church.”

“I, we, brought something for you.” Stepping aside, Jane revealed Miss Darcy and Miss Althea, who were all barely contained eagerness and wide smiles. Once greetings, hugs, and good wishes were exchanged, she opened a portmanteau and passed something from it to her sister. “I thought you might want this.”

“Oh, Jane! Thank you.” Elizabeth caressed the cream-coloured gown with delicate white embroidery that she had worn at the Netherfield ball. “Mr Darcy and I danced for the first time while I wore this. But… You knew? That I was engaged to him?”

“When an express messenger arrived at Netherfield and Longbourn, we were frantic that something dire had happened. But Mr Darcy’s letters to Papa and Charles explained his intentions. Mama and my sisters were only told that there was to be a celebration and that their attendance would be appreciated. This morning Mama and I had a heated argument. She insisted she should be the one helping you prepare for your wedding day.” In a whisper for Elizabeth’s ears only, Jane added, “And night. But I insisted she remain at Strandsmere. I assumed that you would have adequate assistance.”

“I am going to need a great deal of help trying to squeeze into this after all the delectable German pastries I have eaten over the past two months. Now, Miss Taylor, if you would be so kind as to slip that gown over my head, we shall see how many seams need to be let out.”

None did. It was a perfect fit.

Miss Darcy had in her hand a simple but fragrant tussie-mussie tied with a pink ribbon. “We three, Mrs Bingley, Miss Althea, and I, made this for you. The roses, although rather late ones, symbolise love.”