Page 179 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“Perhaps you should call for Marlowe and prepare for the night,” Elizabeth suggested, “and I shall come to you later and we can have a glass of wine together in your chambers. Would that be acceptable?”

Philip looked at her with astonishment. “Acceptable? That would be wonderful!”

Marlowe took his master up the stairs while Elizabeth remained a moment longer with Lady Kendal.

“Thank you, my dear. That was very considerate of you,” her ladyship said.

“What do you mean?”

“That you intend to spend a little time with Philip tonight. Even under the peculiar circumstances, this is the most special night of his life. He has been all anticipation the last fortnight, and I believe this excitement has enhanced his strength.”

“I surely do not deserve any thanks. It gives me pleasure to make my husband happy, you know that quite well. And, although our marriage will not be conventional, I have every intention of behaving as any wife would.”

“Thank you, my darling,” her ladyship repeated, overwhelmed with emotion. “Now I know that, if anything should happen to me, Philip will be well taken care of and everything I have started will continue.”

“None of that, Lady Kendal,” Elizabeth replied. “You are healthy and strong. Let us entertain only happy thoughts on this day.”

“May it be as you say. Now let me wish you good night, my dear. I am proud to call you my granddaughter, and I would be delighted if you would consider me your grandmother and call me so.”

“I would be glad to, Grandmamma.” Feeling emotional and burdened by the faith Lady Kendal had placed in her, Elizabeth embraced her lovingly. If only she would rise to such high expectations and not disappoint them.

Half an hour later, Elizabeth was in her chamber, dressed in her night rail, dressing gown, and bedroom slippers. She tied her hair with a ribbon and glanced at her image in the mirror.

With some emotion, uncomfortable with the notion of entering a man’s bedchamber, even if he was her husband, she stepped into the hall hesitantly and knocked on Philip’s door. Marlowe answered her knock and then excused himself to the dressing room.

Philip was in his bed, propped up against pillows, covered to his chest. He was pale, his blue eyes surrounded by dark circles. He smiled at her. The window was half open, and the soft breeze chilled the air.

On the small table, there was a bottle of port and two glasses. Elizabeth poured the red liquid, then drew up a chair to the bed.

“You look beautiful, Lady Alveston. Stunning.”

“Thank you, Lord Alveston. You look handsome yourself.”

“I do not. I know that only too well. I just hope I do not look appalling to you.”

“Never fear that! And never say that again.”

“I know as my health worsens, my looks will fade.”

Elizabeth put her glass down next to his and took his hands. “I regret I cannot be a true husband to you, Elizabeth. But I wonder if you would have married me if I could.”

“Philip, let us not have this conversation again, my darling. We are husband and wife now, and I look forward to sharing time, care, and enjoyment with you. Once we return to London, I would like to move into the mistress’s chambers. I understand you need your privacy, as do I… But I wish to keep the doors between our apartments unlocked. I want you to call on me whenever you wish, and I would like to know I may enter to see you at any time. Never think you could look appalling to me!”

He brought their joined hands to his lips with gratitude.

“Your generosity leaves me lost for words, my beloved. You are the answer to my prayers. You are truly my life, Elizabeth.”

She smiled. “I am your wife, Philip. Now, shall we have some wine, or did you only mislead me with the promise of it?”

They each lifted their glasses, toasted each other with warmest wishes, and then carried on a light conversation until the glasses were empty.

Embracing her new husband again, Elizabeth retired to her room. It was the end of the longest day of her life—the first day of her new life.

Exhausted from lack of sleep and prolonged, lasting turmoil, Lady Alveston, née Elizabeth Bennet, finally fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

∞∞∞

Darcy stared at the newspaper, not touching it as if the paper might burn his fingers. He needed no more details—Elizabeth had married Lord Alveston. He remembered that the wedding was planned to take place in London in the autumn.