Darcy!” Her mother’s tone became reverent at the mention of Mr. Darcy. Though he was now her son-in-law, Mrs. Bennet, like many of Darcy’s acquaintances, yet found him a formidable man.
Elizabeth observed Miss Bingley listening to Parrish with rapt attention. He cast his fiancee a warm smile, then broadened it to include the rest of his party.
“Maybe the size of Mr. Parrish’s inheritance influenced her,” Jane said. “It must be a very grand estate. I understand, however, that he plans to buy another property here in England.” She lowered her voice so that it reached only Elizabeth’s ears. “Perhaps Caroline will have her own Pemberley at last, Lizzy, now that she knows she’ll never have yours.”
Anticipation swept Elizabeth at the mention of Mr. Darcy’s home in Derbyshire — now her home, too. Before Darcy became engaged, Miss Bingley had been obvious in her aspirations to one day cross Pemberley’s threshold as its mistress. Apparently, she’d experienced more disappointment over failing to secure the estate than its owner, for no sooner had Darcy and Elizabeth set their wedding date than Miss Bingley embarked on a whirlwind courtship with Mr. Parrish. Somehow, in the space of mere weeks, Caroline had managed to win the affections of a very eligible bachelor.
Sensing someone’s gaze upon her, Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet those of her new husband. Darcy stood some distance away, enduring the effusive congratulations of Mr. Collins, who had apparently found himself unequal to the effort of holding his own tongue long enough to overhear Mr. Parrish’s words, and had therefore chosen to confer upon one of the bridegrooms his felicitations and sagacious marital counsel. Despite Darcy’s diverted attention, the clergyman continued his discourse unabated, completely insensible of the interruption in attendance to his soliloquy.
Though Darcy had cropped his dark brown hair a little shorter than usual for today, unruly curls yet wisped round his head. Short side-whiskers lent prominence to his strong jaw, while the lapels of his double-breasted coat accented the broad shoulders that so capably bore the weight of many responsibilities. Not of brawny build, he nevertheless exuded puissance, the noble virility of a classical marble bust come to life.
He towered over her cousin, his stature enabling her to see every nuance of his countenance. The man who could quell observers with the rise of a single dark brow bestowed upon her a look of infinite tenderness before returning his gaze to Mr. Collins.
“Miss Bingley can have every acre of Pemberley,” she said softly. “I have the real fortune.”
She glanced once more at her husband. Poor Darcy — stuck in the corner with Mr. Collins, and no end to the interview in sight! Noting that the servants had just laid out the tea table, she headed for it, intending to relieve Darcy’s suffering by interrupting the conversation to offer refreshment. No sooner had she poured coffee to take to the gentlemen, however, than Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst approached the table.
“I’m positively parched.” Miss Bingley took one of the cups from Elizabeth’s hands.
Mrs. Hurst took the other. “Yes, it is very dry in this room.”
Elizabeth forbore suggesting that perhaps Miss Bingley’s thirst derived from having spent the morning talking excessively about herself and Mr. Parrish. Instead, she commented on that safest and most meaningful of all topics — the weather — observing that there had been little rainfall of late.
“A providential circumstance for your wedding,” Mrs. Hurst said, “particularly since it was held in the country. Otherwise, you would have risked dragging the hem of your gown through mud on your way into church.”
“And what a charming little church — not at all like the large London ones where so many in our circle have tied the knot. Here we could all be so snugly seated.” Miss Bingley’s voice held all of the usual smugness with which she addressed any of the Bennets. “Altogether a nice little affair from beginning to end. Do you not agree, Louisa? How fortunate you are, Eliza, to have had your mother to guide you in the planning.”
Elizabeth ignored the poorly stifled snicker that erupted from Mrs. Hurst. The Bingley sisters had never managed to mask their disdain for her mother, had seldom even tried. In moments of self-honesty, she conceded that their criticism was not without foundation. But their rudeness was. Mrs. Bennet might lack restraint and good judgment, but her silly behavior had at its root the sincere wish of seeing her five daughters securely settled, and maybe even happy. The Bingley sisters, in contrast, had demonstrated by words and deeds that they ultimately had no one’s interests at heart but their own.
“Mrs. Bennet must have taken particular pleasure in preparing for today, since she was unable to participate in your youngest sister’s wedding,” Mrs. Hurst said.
“Yes — how is Mrs. Wickham?” Miss Bingley asked.
“She is well,” Elizabeth responded civilly. In other words, Lydia was still infatuated with the wastrel she’d married, and therefore as happy as a flighty, thoughtless, self-absorbed girl can be. Though Elizabeth loved her sister, the remembrance of last summer’s scandalous elopement yet pained her, and she felt guilty relief that when Wickham’s previous misconduct toward the Darcy family rendered it impossible to include him on today’s guest list, Lydia had chosen to remain with her husband at his military post in Newcastle rather than attend the nuptials.
“Have you any advice for those of us who will soon follow you down the aisle?” Miss Bingley pressed, casting a conspiratorial smirk at Mrs. Hurst. Louisa leaned forward for Elizabeth’s response.
“With your own taste to guide you, I am sure your celebration could derive no further benefit from my opinions.”
The Bingley sisters returned to their party, where Caroline continued to hold court with Mr. Parrish. The American’s distinct accent seemed to entertain its listeners independent of whatever he had to say.
Elizabeth poured more coffee and carried it to Darcy and Mr. Collins. “Forgive the interruption, gentlemen, but I thought you might appreciate something to drink. I’ve been informed that it’s dry in here.”
Darcy’s look of gratitude had nothing to do with the refreshment.
“Cousin Elizabeth, your eagerness to serve your new husband does you credit.” Mr. Collins accepted the coffee but could not leave off talking long enough to taste it. “Do allow me to express once more my most heartfelt wishes for your future happiness. Though, as I was just expressing to Mr. Darcy, it grieves me that you entered into the matrimonial state without his aunt’s permission. You will, I am sure, be gladdened to hear that her ladyship still tolerates the mention of your husband’s name in her presence, an omen which leads me to believe that if you applied to Lady Catherine with the utmost humility and the deference to which one of her rank is entitled, she may in due course yet condescend to approve the match.”
“What a relief! I know not how Mr. Darcy and I will get on until we obtain her approbation.”
“Thank goodness you realize the seriousness of the situation. I had feared you were insensible of the grave insult you have paid her ladyship—”
“Mr. Collins,” she said as if addressing him in confidence, “I have just come into the knowledge that there is another couple here who could benefit from your insights on marriage.” She directed his attention toward the sofa. “Miss Bingley and Mr. Parrish have just announced their engagement, and only moments ago, the lady was seeking my counsel on planning the ceremony. Certainly you — longer married than I, and a clergyman besides — could offer her valuable instruction.”
Mr. Collins nodded enthusiastically. “I could indeed. There is so much a betrothed couple ought to consider —”
“And they should consider it all.”
“Before I depart, I shall make myself better acquainted with them.”
“Why delay?” Elizabeth asked. “There is an empty seat near Miss Bingley. This is the perfect occasion to share your knowledge.”
The clergyman wanted no further encouragement. “You are right, cousin Elizabeth. Wisdom can never be imparted too early. If you and Mr. Darcy will excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Mr. Collins hastened to Miss Bingley’s side, eliciting an expression of horror from that lady and a charge of satisfaction from Elizabeth.
“I had no idea I married a woman capable of such cruelty to another of her sex.”
She met Darcy’s smile. “I merely thought that someone so desirous of attention and someone so generous in extending it should be united in conversation.”
“Somehow, I doubt Miss Bingley agrees.”
