Glancing over her shoulder, Elizabeth saw that the carriage was ready. “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Darcy.”
He kissed her hand before handing her in, then watched until the carriage was out of sight. With a sigh, he returned to his study, where he hoped to make good use of the time to attend to neglected business, but it was not long before his mind was more agreeably engaged in meditating upon an absent lady. This agreeability did not last long, however, as his thoughts moved from Elizabeth herself to her absence, and by dinnertime Georgiana was ready to chide him for his dolorous appearance. The night was indeed a long one for him as he discovered just how accustomed one could become to the presence of a loved one in a few days, and his only comfort was knowing that it was their last night apart. When dawn came, he was only too glad to make an early start for Matlock and Elizabeth, and as he joined a sleepy Georgiana in the carriage, his thoughts rode ahead of them.
A little later that morning, one of the footmen sought out Robbins, the butler. “The post has come, sir,” he said, “and there are two letters for Miss Bennet. I was wondering where I should put them.”
Robbins thought for a moment; the new mistress had not yet set up a sitting room of her own, yet it would hardly be appropriate to leave them in her new chambers for her wedding night. “You may leave them with me for now,” he said. He looked at the letters, noting that they seemed to be in the same handwriting, but one had apparently been misdirected. Finally he decided that the best idea was to leave them on Mr. Darcy’s desk with his post; that way she would receive them soon enough after their return.
Matlock proved to be a charming town set on the side of a steep hill, with an attractive river running through the valley under the shadow of a large cliff. As they drove into town, Elizabeth could see the imposing spires of the cathedral on the top of the hill dominating the vista; a shiver went down her spine at the inspiring sight, thinking of what was to happen there on the morrow. The inn recommended by Mr. Darcy was not far from Cathedral Close, and after they were settled in, Mrs. Gardiner suggested to Elizabeth that they walk out to explore the town. Mr. Gardiner pleaded fatigue, leaving the ladies to set forth on their own.
“It has been some time since I have had the opportunity to spend time alone with you, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yes, the pace has been rather hectic,” Elizabeth admitted with a rueful smile. “I feel as if my affairs have quite dominated your tour, no doubt to the detriment of your plans.”
“I would not have missed this for the world,” her aunt reassured her, “though I wonder at how calmly you have taken all these changes in plans.”
Elizabeth said dryly, “Is there any point in not being calm? After all, I agreed to this.”
“Does it not trouble you that you will not have your wedding at Longbourn, with your family and friends in attendance? I have wondered if you might feel disappointed in not having the wedding of your dreams.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are confusing me with Jane, I fear. She is the one who has always dreamed of the perfect wedding; my focus has always been to marry for love, and the ceremony itself does not mean so much to me as the life that follows. But yes, I admit that I had never considered that I might marry without my father to give me away, and Jane by my side—I wish they could be here, although I do recognize that it may be just as well that the rest of the family is not! I could, after all, have insisted that we wait until my return to Longbourn to hold the wedding, but I think this may be for the best in many ways.”
“And in what way is it the best for you, my dear?”
An amused smile spread slowly over Elizabeth’s face. “It gives me very little time to think and worry about what I am undertaking; I believe that may be a great advantage!”
Her aunt looked at her in concern. “You have second thoughts, then, Lizzy?”
“Hardly second thoughts, but I must admit that I did not quite realize what I was taking on when I agreed to marry Mr. Darcy. I knew that he was wealthy and that he owned a fine estate, I knew of his relationship to Lord Derby, but I did not quite appreciate how far removed his social sphere was from mine until we started to plan the wedding. When we settled on an immediate wedding, I had pictured a simple ceremony at the parish church; it was a shock to discover that everyone at Pemberley assumed that a simple ceremony was one that took place in a cathedral, presided over by a bishop, and the major conflict being whether to include a peer of the realm in the guest list—no, I had not realized at all the extent of the differences, and I wonder what it will be like when we are in London, or entertaining at Pemberley—I can hardly conceive of it! There will be a great deal that I shall need to learn.”
“When we were at Blenheim, Lizzy, you seemed worried that he would try to control your actions. I have recently had some concerns in that regard of my own,” Mrs. Gardiner said carefully.
Anxiety coursed through Elizabeth; she had counted on the Gardiners’ good opinion of Darcy to help sway her father toward acceptance of her marriage. “What concerns have you had?”
Mrs. Gardiner was silent for a minute. “Your Mr. Darcy was apparently quite frank with your uncle about why he wished to marry you so soon.”
Elizabeth colored and looked away. “Yes, I had assumed that he might be; it is very like him. He does not care for disguise or dishonesty.”
“It seems rather out of character for you, Lizzy, which makes me wonder how he came to obtain your… cooperation, or whether in fact you did cooperate.”
Elizabeth turned to her aunt in shock. “You cannot think… No, in no way did he force me. He was only… very persuasive, and I seem to be susceptible to his form of persuasion. My susceptibility is out of character, aunt, nothing else.”
“I am relieved to hear it, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Although I cannot but disapprove of what happened, I am not without understanding of the position in which you find yourself, and I believe that mistakes are to be learned from rather than dwelt upon. I do have a concern, however, about this sudden wedding raising talk.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth said, “There will no doubt be talk; there is
“No, I would imagine not,” her aunt replied. “Have you and Mr. Darcy made your peace about this? I am still concerned that you may feel forced into this wedding.”
“Yes, we have made our peace,” Elizabeth said, glad that she did not have to tell her aunt precisely how that peace had been achieved. “And the truth is, aunt, that I have felt powerless over this situation for much longer than the last few days; I am becoming accustomed to it, and I have learned that my judgment and discernment are by no means so flawless as I would like to think them, and that some of those very things into which I have been forced have proven to be for the best.”
“I am reluctant to guess at what you may mean, Lizzy.”
“My entire history with Mr. Darcy is one of events proceeding against my will. I did not want Mr. Darcy to fall in love with me, yet he did; I did not want him to court me, yet he did; I did not want to fall in love with him, or even like him, yet I did; I did not want to become engaged so quickly, yet we did—there has been no part of this that has felt voluntary to me, but I would not change anything. So a less than voluntary wedding hardly comes as a shock, I fear.” It was fortunate, Elizabeth thought, that her sense of humor was so inclined as to see sport in everything, as otherwise she might feel quite resentful.
“You are not dissatisfied, then?”
“I believe that I would have preferred to follow a more typical course, but no, I am not dissatisfied.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Mrs. Gardiner said. Pointing to a large building of white limestone, she asked, “Do you suppose that is the Bishop’s palace?”
Elizabeth responded playfully, “You could ask him tomorrow. I must say, I still cannot quite credit any of this.”
The following day began with an air of unreality about it to Elizabeth; it seemed almost as if she was play- acting at being a bride. The richness of her gown, accentuated by the sapphire necklace, felt wildly extravagant, and when Mrs. Gardiner finished the ensemble by draping a lace veil she had purchased in Lambton over her niece’s hair, as she insisted was the latest romantic vogue at London weddings, she felt that she could barely see
