Page 119 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

“You ruined my life. Are you content now?” she asked with disdain, struggling to breathe in her fury. “Do you have your revenge, you hateful man?

He still smiled. “Not at all. But your pathetic intervention just made me give up on revenge. You know, Catherine, I left in a bitterness of spirit and threw myself into the most difficult and dangerous situations I could find. You remained home with the comfort and well-being that you seemed to want. My spirit was broken several times, but it recovered. Yours grew bitter and spiteful. Can you not see what a miserable person you have become? You find pleasure in ruining other people’s happiness just because you were not able to find your own. You must always have your own way because you cannot admit you might be wrong. Yet, you have been nothing but wrong your entire life!”

“Let me leave! I do not have to listen to you!”

“You may leave…do not worry. You convinced me to give up any notion of revenge. You are just not worth the effort, Catherine. The money and papers related to your fraudulent business are with me, though. I shall keep them. I do enjoy having power over you. It compensates for some of my wasted years.”

“You should die with them in your pockets,” she cursed him.

He continued to smile. “I might, but I do not fear that. You should be careful, Catherine, or you might die alone and lonelier than you have ever been. And just to be clear, Anne does not look at all like Sir Lewis de Bourgh.”

He then turned and walked towards the house calmly as the carriage moved away. In the doorway stood the betrothed couples.

With different—yet no less strong—feelings and sorrow, five pairs of eyes followed the carriage until it disappeared into the woods of Pemberley Park.

Chapter 28

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy wedded Miss Elizabeth Bennet on a warm July morning in the Pemberley Chapel.

The bride’s gown, elegant and of the latest fashion, had been purchased in London for parties and balls she never attended. She wore a set of matching jewels with rubies and diamonds, part of the Darcy collection that complimented her skin tone and enhanced her lively beauty.

However, Mrs Darcy’s most admired asset was her dark, sparkling eyes that gazed lovingly at her husband, who paid attention to little else but her.

The obvious adoration between the couple brought tears and smiles to the faces of their friends, families, and other guests.

Those who had known the master for a lifetime were astonished by his changed appearance—the loss of his usual coldness and severity. And it was universally acknowledged that he looked even more handsome with a becoming smile that never seemed to leave his face.

From the chapel, they returned to Pemberley. Tables and chairs were arranged by the lake to accommodate the numerous guests. The servants waited in order while a group of musicians tuned their instruments.

Reluctantly, Mr and Mrs Darcy had to separate and care for their guests, but their eyes rarely left each other.

In the company of his male relatives, Darcy secretly wondered how long he had to remain at the wedding breakfast.

As though reading his mind, the colonel laughed. “Darcy, why on earth did you agree to such a huge party? Whose idea was this?”

He grinned. “Actually, mine. Mr Wilson told us about the parties hosted at Pemberley many years ago, and Elizabeth and Georgiana were very enthusiastic about it. So I thought this would be a good opportunity to celebrate together.”

“Those gatherings must have happened before George married Anne,” said Lord Matlock. “I do not remember such events. Besides, my sister was not fond of large gatherings and noise. She always preferred silence and solitude.”

“Yes, long before he became engaged,” Mr Wilson replied. “Afterwards, he always put his wife’s preferences ahead of his own. He was a loyal and caring husband,” Wilson said meaningfully, glancing at the earl, who said nothing.

“I remember that,” Darcy said. “But this might be the right time for more liveliness, even if it means parties and balls,” he attempted to joke.

“One thing George Darcy hoped and prayed for was to see you happy,” Wilson replied to him. “He would be so content to see that you have brought laughter and joy back to Pemberley! He would be so proud of you, including your choice of wife.”

“Thank you,” Darcy answered with no little emotion. “But I deserve no praise. I fell in love despite my own stupid pride and mistaken sense of duty. I was blessed and fortunate, and I am not even certain I deserve it. As for this party, any opportunity to dance with Elizabeth is welcome.”

“Then you might be disappointed,” Lady Matlock interjected, joining the group. “Since you are married, you will rarely dance with her. One set may be acceptable but no more.”

Darcy glared at her with such reproachful sharpness that everybody laughed.

“Who said that?” he inquired.

“The rules of society, which you know well,” the lady replied in jest.

He raised his eyebrow in challenge and uttered with perfect seriousness, “I beg to differ, Aunt. This is my house, my party, and my rules. I plan to dance every set with my wife.”

“Oh stop being silly, Darcy,” said the viscount. “There will be many others eager to dance with the new mistress—myself included—and it is your job as a host to please everybody.”