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Because how could she?

She had grown fond of him. Indeed, it had not started that way. In fact, she thought she had hated him, and then, yes, there had been attraction, and now she wanted to marry him.

That was not a lie.

But did she love him like he professed to love her?

She could not say that she did.

Mama entered her bedchamber as she was getting ready for bed. Jane was helping her brush out her hair when her mother cleared her throat.

"I need a moment with Elizabeth, please, Jane," she said, and Jane put down the hairbrush and disappeared from the room.

Elizabeth’s stomach was full of butterflies.

This was surely the conversation about matrimony, the one that she knew girls had with their mothers before they were sent off to marry.

It was a conversation she almost did not want to have, for it was certainly awkward to discuss such matters with her mother, and yet she wanted to know what marriage entailed. She did not like not knowing.

"So," her mother said, "tomorrow you will become Mrs Darcy."

Elizabeth nodded and folded her hands in her lap.

"You will have a great deal of responsibility, Lizzy. A great estate, a name, money – you must use it wisely. And you must not forget the family you have left behind."

"Of course not, Mama," she said, but this was not the direction in which she had anticipated the conversation going.

"There will be children one day. Sons, hopefully," she said. "And then you will never be in this mess that I have found myself in because I could only bear daughters."

Elizabeth nodded. She knew all too well of Mrs Bennet’s lamenting of the lack of a son, and yes, it would have certainly made things a lot simpler if the Bennets had not had five girls. But one could not control such matters. Well, she presumed one could not anyway, because if it had been possible, then surely her parents would have had a son.

"And when it comes to creating these children," Mrs Bennet said, getting to the crux of the matter, and Elizabeth waited with bated breath, "well, your husband will know what to do. Be guided by him, and it will all be over quickly."

And that was that, the great conversation she had waited for, and she found herself none the wiser.

Before she could ask any questions, her mother had upped and left the room, citing a need for beauty sleep before the wedding, and Elizabeth felt even more churned up than she had before her entrance.

◆◆◆

Darcy took himself to bed early that evening, wanting to be rested for the following day. Besides, he could not stand any more of Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst’s miserable faces or snide comments. They had made it very clear that they did not approve of his choice of wife, and he had made it very clear that he did not care.

So what was the point in continuing the conversation?

Georgiana was very pleased with his choice and, really, aside from himself and Elizabeth, she was the only one who mattered. He still had no notion of whether or not his aunt would be attending. She had been invited, but she was not at Netherfield, and he had not heard word from any other relative whether she planned or did not plan to come.

He hoped that she did, on one hand, because she was one of the only connections to his mother and father’s generation. But only if she could be supportive. If she could not, then he had no interest in her being at the wedding or ever returning to Pemberley.

He took a long, hot soak in the tub and checked that his valet had laid out his smartest clothes for the following day. His wedding day.

Considering that at the beginning of the previous year he could not have imagined himself married, the fact that it now felt like this day had taken forever to come was certainly a testimony to the lady herself.

Although he had left company promptly, he did not think he could sleep so early. And so he took a book and sat in the window of the bedroom he was given at Netherfield.

He intended to read, but his mind could not focus, and so he spent much of his time that evening staring out at the moonlit grounds and imagining himself back at Pemberley.

But this time, not alone.

Chapter Thirty-Five