Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 (28 page)

The following day was June 18
th
, and if all had gone according to plan, Elizabeth would have been on her way home. Instead she woke to the knowledge that today, like the previous day, she would be needed to help the wounded who made the way to Mrs Stacey’s house. She rose and bathed then went downstairs. Jane was there, and so was Mary. Mrs Stacey and Mrs Gardiner had already breakfasted and were tending to household duties and making sure the wounded lodged with them were comfortable. Kitty had eaten her breakfast on a tray in Mrs Bennet’s room and was continuing with the valuable work of tending to her mother, so that Mrs Bennet did not make life more difficult for everyone concerned.

After breakfast, Elizabeth helped a wounded man write to his mother so she would not worry about him and then she read to another wounded gentleman who was in low spirits. She made her voice cheerful as she read an amusing story but it was not easy for her, since her thoughts were elsewhere, with Mr Darcy.

Where is he?
she wondered.

And, a less welcome thought,
Is he alive or is he . . .

She would not allow herself to finish that thought.

He must be alive
, she thought.

Her aunt knew how worried she was and so she suggested they pay a call on Miss Darcy.

‘It will be quite proper,’ said her aunt. ‘You have been introduced and it is natural you should enquire about her cousin and brother. Besides, it will do you good to leave the house. Your sisters should come, too. You have all been kept indoors by necessity, but the flow of injured troops has slowed and there are people strolling in the park. Mr Manningham and Mr Stacey are both cautiously optimistic that the tide of battle has turned. It is too soon to be certain but there is room for hope.’

Elizabeth gratefully put on her pelisse and bonnet, for she loved to be out of doors and she had found it a sore trial to be confined to the house. Her sisters, too, appreciated the diversion and, taking a footman with them, they set out for Lady Fitzwilliam’s house.

The day was fine and there was a warm breeze blowing. Elizabeth breathed in deeply, glad to be in the fresh air. She both looked forward to, and dreaded, arriving at Lady Fitzwilliam’s house. What if there had been news? What if it was bad?

She felt her feet dragging as they neared the street on which Lady Fitzwilliam’s house was placed, but once they turned the corner and saw the house before them she felt a sense of relief. The curtains were not drawn, as they certainly would have been if there had been news of a death.

They approached the grand house and the footman knocked at the door. It was opened by a stately butler who bowed them inside. They were shown into the drawing-room, where Lady Fitzwilliam was receiving visitors with her daughters and her niece, Georgiana Darcy.

‘How good of you to call,’ said Lady Fitzwilliam.

She invited them to sit down and they arranged themselves on the splendid sofas, which had gilded arms and legs. The room was furnished in opulent style and gilding gleamed from the mirrors and the edges of side tables, as well as the sofas and chairs.

‘I am glad to see you all well,’ said Lady Fitzwilliam. ‘These are trying times. I hear that Mrs Stacey has opened her house to the wounded and that the young ladies have been tending the injured.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Gardiner.

Elizabeth wondered what Lady Fitzwilliam’s reaction would be. She was sure that Lady Catherine de Bourgh would have thought it unsuitable but Lady Fitzwilliam said, ‘I am glad to hear it. It is a charitable act that will be appreciated by the mothers and sisters of every wounded gentleman, whether or not their own particular relatives were tended in Mrs Stacey’s house.’

Mrs Gardiner thanked her for her words.

‘It must be an anxious time for you,’ continued Mrs Gardiner.

‘Yes. My son and my nephew are both on the battlefield but I pray they will come through safely.’

‘As do we all,’ said Mrs Gardiner.

As their elders talked, the young ladies all talked together. Elizabeth admired Miss Darcy’s sampler, which she was stitching assiduously.

‘It is for my brother,’ said Miss Darcy, ‘when he returns.’

‘It is beautiful,’ said Elizabeth.

‘It is of Pemberley,’ said Miss Darcy, displaying the beautiful cross stitch which was half finished.

‘I have heard much about it, but nothing has done it justice,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It is said that a picture paints a thousand words and it is true. Your needlework has given me an appreciation of the beauty of Pemberley which no description could do.’

‘I hope one day you will see it,’ said Miss Darcy. ‘I know my brother would like to show it to you. He has spoken of it and said he hopes we will be friends.’

Those words, so artlessly spoken, warmed Elizabeth through.

‘I am sure we shall be,’ she said Elizabeth.

Jane, Mary and Kitty spoke to Lady Fitzwilliam’s daughters and they all parted at last feeling well pleased with their visit.

‘A very fine family, with no false pride or sense of superiority,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Lady Fitzwilliam is a sensible woman and I find the family charming. You seemed to be enjoying your conversation with Miss Darcy, Lizzy.’

‘Yes. I did,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Miss Darcy is a lovely young lady.’

The sun had come out and they walked back to Mrs Stacey’s house with the spring warmth on their cheeks. The scent of flowers was carried to them on the breeze and there was a more hopeful air than there had been for days. The people strolling through Brussels were no longer anxious. The slowing of the injured had had its effect and there were rumours of the tide turning against the French.

They returned refreshed and ready to take up their nursing again.

Mrs Stacey took Mrs Gardiner aside when they entered the house and the young ladies went upstairs to remove their outdoor things. When they came down again, Mrs Gardiner said, ‘I would like your help, Lizzy.’

Elizabeth went with her aunt, following her into a small downstairs parlour which had been converted into a sick room. There was a gentleman sitting in a chair by the fireplace. He was dirty and dishevelled, but Elizabeth’s spirits soared, for it was Mr Darcy. There was a bloody bandage around his head and another on his hand. There was a third around his leg. But he was alive and in one piece and as she entered the room he looked up and a look of love flooded his face.

‘Elizabeth!’ he said.

He tried to rise but he winced at the pain in his leg and sat down again abruptly.

‘She flew across the room to him and knelt beside him.

‘You have come back to me!’ she said.

‘As I promised,’ he said with a tender smile. His gaze travelled over her face, drinking her in. ‘You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,’ he said. ‘Your eyes are like diamonds.’

And indeed they were, for they were glistening with tears.

‘You must not cry,’ he said, gently brushing away a tear with the back of his hand.

‘I am crying with happiness,’ she said.

He lifted his other hand to brush away a tear from her other cheek but he winced and she looked at the bandage.

‘I must bathe your hand,’ she said.

She stood up and went over to the side of the room where a bowl of water stood on the sideboard. There were cloths and towels next to it.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This is not work for a young lady.’

‘I have been tending the wounded since they started to arrive in the city,’ she said. She began to undo the bandage very carefully. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘A sabre cut,’ he said. ‘I was engaged in hand to hand fighting on horseback. It is nothing. It will soon heal.’

‘It must be cleaned,’ she said.

She carefully bathed the wound. It was a clean cut and not too deep.

Then she removed the bandage around his head, as she had been shown to do by Mrs Stacey, who was experienced in such matters. He had a nasty gash across his forehead. She bathed it carefully and he bore it uncomplainingly, though she knew it must hurt him.

As she leant forward, his ring, which she wore around her neck on a fine gold chain, fell from beneath the high neck of her gown.

‘You wear my ring,’ he said.

‘Nothing would make me part with it,’ she replied.

‘Not even if I swap it for something more suitable?’ he asked.

She held her breath.

‘Elizabeth, I asked you once before to marry me. It seems a lifetime ago. I was rude and arrogant and insulting but I have changed.’

‘I know,’ she said.

‘Then you have noticed?’

She nodded.

‘I did it all for you,’ he said. ‘And now, with your teaching, I hope I may make a more creditable proposal and say what I really think and feel. I love you, Elizabeth. Nothing else matters. Will you marry me?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I will.’

She was kneeling next to him, a position she had adopted the better to bathe his wounds, and he leant over and kissed her.

So lost were they in each other that they did not immediately hear Mrs Gardiner return to the room.

‘A message has been sent to Lady Fitzwilliam’s house and Mr Darcy’s valet will be here soon to look after him,’ said Mrs Gardiner.

Elizabeth rose with sparkling eyes and turned towards her aunt with a happy smile.

Her aunt understood at once.

‘In ordinary circumstances I would speak to Mr Bennet before saying anything,’ said Mr Darcy to Mars Gardiner. ‘But as he is not here and I will not be able to travel for some time I wish you to know that my intentions towards your niece are honourable and that I have asked her to be my wife.’

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘I am sure you will be very happy together. But for now your wound needs attention and then you must rest.’

Mr Darcy, usually so proud, was for the moment willing to follow her advice. He had taken a bullet in the leg and though it had mercifully passed through, the wound needed dressing. It would be most improper for Elizabeth to tend it, since Mr Darcy’s clothing would need to be removed. That would be done by his valet, who had some experience of such things since he had previously worked for Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Elizabeth reluctantly stood up and with one last loving glance at Mr Darcy she left the room.

She went immediately to tell Jane what had happened and the two sisters shared their relief and joy that he had been spared and was safe.

‘He is injured, but his wounds will heal,’ said Elizabeth. ‘And not only that. Jane, he has asked me to marry him.’

‘Oh, Lizzy, how well things have ended for us. I am engaged to Mr Bingley, you are engaged to Mr Darcy and this morning Mr Manningham proposed to Mary.’

The clock struck the hour and they went down to the dining-room. It was time for luncheon. They found Mary already there.

Elizabeth gave Mary her congratulations and received congratulations in return.

‘Although perhaps your congratulations are premature,’ said Mary, who had not lost her seriousness altogether. ‘Mr Manningham, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy have not yet received our father’s permission.’

Mrs Gardiner entered the room at that moment and said, ‘I can assure you it will be forthcoming.’

‘Can you imagine Mamma’s reaction if it was not?’ said Elizabeth teasingly.

‘Do you think our mother would like to join us for luncheon?’ asked Jane. ‘Perhaps we should tell her our news.’

‘Not just yet, I think,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘From what Mr Darcy says I think we may have definite news of the battle soon. Although the recent news has been good, we still do not know if it is over and things can change quickly in warfare. It would be better to allow her to keep to her room until such time.’

They all agreed. Mrs Bennet would be jubilant about her daughters’ engagements and such effusions would be out of place with the battle still hanging in the balance. It would be time enough to tell her when the battle had been decided – for good or ill.

The following day brought the news they had all been hoping for. The Allies were victorious. Napoleon had been defeated and peace in Europe was assured.

Elizabeth took the news to Mr Darcy, who had remained in Mrs Stacey’s house and would do so until his leg mended, at least enough for him to stand on it and walk a few paces.

She found him sitting in a chair by the window. He was looking better today. His colour had improved and he was in less pain. He had managed to sleep a little and his injuries were healing.

‘I have further good news,’ she said to him. ‘Your cousin is safe. He returned home early this morning with a few flesh wounds but otherwise unhurt. Lady Fitzwilliam sent one of her footmen with a message to let us know.’

‘That is a relief,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘Then as soon as I am well enough I will be returning to England. I want to go to Hertfordshire and speak to your father, so that I can ask for your hand in marriage, and then we have so much to look forward to. We have our marriage to plan and I am eager to show you Pemberley.’

He speak with real enthusiasm and Elizabeth looked forward to the coming year in a way she would have thought impossible at Easter, when she had been smarting from his former rudeness.

‘I have already seen it – after a manner of speaking,’ she added, as she saw his surprise. ‘Miss Darcy was embroidering a picture of it and I saw her needlework. It is a beautiful house. I love it already. The gardens look magnificent, too. Georgiana was showing me all her favourite plants, which she is conscientiously working into the picture.’

‘I am glad, for soon it will be your home. I am pleased you and my sister are friends, too. But you must start calling her Georgiana, not Miss Darcy.’

‘It would give me great pleasure. And she must call me Elizabeth.’

This was put into practice that very afternoon when Georgiana came to call, escorted by Colonel Fitzwilliam. They were both eager to see Mr Darcy and to assure themselves that he would recover from his wounds. It was a joyful reunion. Georgiana’s relief was plain to see, and beneath his manly exterior Colonel Fitzwilliam was obviously relieved. The two gentlemen had lost sight of each other during the latter stages of the battle and so neither had known the fate of the other until both had returned safely to Brussels.

They did not stay long as they did not want to overtire Mr Darcy but they promised to return the following day.

Elizabeth continued to sit with him and they talked of the future, making plans for their return to England and their marriage.

‘When would you like to marry?’ asked Mr Darcy.

‘I think it should be in the autumn,’ said Elizabeth. ‘That will give you time to recover from your wounds – and it will give Mamma time to recover from her raptures!’ she said mischievously.

‘Ah, yes. Your mother is happy with our betrothal?’

‘She has announced it to half of Brussels,’ said Elizabeth, half laughing and half chagrined. ‘She has told anyone who will listen that she always knew we would marry. She says —’

She broke off. She had been going to say
She says that Jane’s marriage is nothing to mine and that I will have such pin money!

But she could not bear to expose her mother’s vulgarity. She knew that Mr Darcy was not the same man who had insulted her in Hunsford parsonage, when he had roundly abused her family while proposing, but she did not want to try him too far. He could not be expected to rejoice in such relatives. And yet she knew he would endure them
for her
.

She hugged herself at the thought of it.

They continued to talk until Mrs Gardiner came in and said that Mr Darcy must rest. Even though the two young people were betrothed, some attention had to be paid to decorum and Elizabeth could not spend all her time with him.

Elizabeth parted from him reluctantly, and yet she knew it was good for him. The pain tired him and he needed his rest.

The days passed and Mr Darcy gradually recovered his strength. His wounds were healing well and he could soon use his hand again. His leg took longer to heal, but once he could walk again he returned to Lady Fitzwilliam’s house.

Elizabeth and her family were frequent visitors. Elizabeth developed her friendship with Georgiana and she came to know his Fitzwilliam relatives very well. Unlike Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Lady Fitzwilliam was not blinded by rank, although she had her fair share of pride. But she recognised that rank was not the only mark of worth and she valued Elizabeth for her lively mind and for her attachment to Mr Darcy.

‘He has had dozens of caps set at him over the years but he avoided all the female snares. Only true worth could attract a man such as he and I am glad he has found it, for he would never have been happy without it,’ said Lady Fitzwilliam.

Elizabeth was pleased to be welcomed by his relatives, for she knew now that he would not be universally shunned for marrying her.

And as time passed, she drew ever closer to Mr Darcy. She came to know more of his childhood, and the parents who had instilled him with good principles but who had encouraged him to be proud. She learnt more about his sister, his neighbourhood and his friends. He, in turn, came to know more about her and this knowledge intensified and deepened their love for each other.

They returned at last to England. Elizabeth could not believe everything that had happened since she last saw its green shores. How much she would have to tell her father! For she knew Mr Bennet would not let her marry Mr Darcy unless he was convinced she was in love with him. Convincing him would not be difficult, since Elizabeth loved Mr Darcy with every fibre of her being. But she needed this love to sustain her, for Mr Bennet was incredulous when Mr Darcy at last asked for her hand in marriage. Before then, he had dismissed Mrs Bennet’s news as a fantasy, refusing to believe that Mr Darcy would really want to marry his daughter, and Elizabeth had not spoken of it since she was not yet returned to Hertfordshire.

But Mr Darcy visited Longbourn at last on a warm day in August, when his injuries had sufficiently recovered to allow him to make the journey without pain. The trees were in full leaf and the bees were droning in the gardens. Roses were in bloom, their pink and red heads nodding in the breeze and sending out their sweet perfume. Butterflies moved among them with a flutter of coloured wings.

Mr Darcy went to see Mr Bennet in his library. He returned to the drawing-room shortly afterwards, saying to Elizabeth, ‘Your father wishes to speak with you.’

Elizabeth nodded. She stood up and ran lightly out of the room, with her muslin skirt fluttering around her ankles. She made her way to the library. The summer sunshine was gleaming on the gold lettering on the books and making the mahogany desk gleam. The outside door was open, letting in the balmy air.

Mr Bennet was not looking sunny, however. In fact he was looking shocked.

‘Are you out of your senses, to be accepting this man?’ he asked her. ‘When your mother told me about it, I thought it was one of her wild fantasies, but I cannot think so any longer. Elizabeth, what are you thinking? Are you really determined to have him? You will be a great lady of course, with carriages and a fine house, but do you really think it is worth marrying him for the grandeur and the pin money?’

‘Oh, Papa, if you knew how much I loved him you would not say such a thing!’ she exclaimed.

And she told him everything – or almost everything - that had happened, for Mr Bennet had never been told of Lydia’s intended elopement. He had simply been told that Lydia had returned with her uncle because she was homesick.

Elizabeth told her father how Mr Darcy had changed and how her own feelings, too, had changed. She told him she had come to know him in Brussels, so that she was now ashamed of the way she had laughed at Mr Darcy before Christmas. She finished by saying, ‘I cannot bear to be parted from him, and you must give your consent, for if you refuse it I will marry him anyway.’

‘Well, well, if you are sure, then of course I give my consent. Indeed, I have already done so. Mr Darcy is not the kind of man I can refuse. What a strange year this is, but how it must delight your mother! Mr Bingley has asked for my permission to marry Jane and I have given it, for I like that young man. Mr Manningham has asked for my permission to marry Mary and he has so much improved her that I could not refuse. And now Mr Darcy has asked to marry you and you tell me you love him and cannot live without him. And so I give you my blessing as well as my consent. Well, well, I now have three daughters about to be married. I will not be able to leave my library for a week as your mother will be insufferable. I have already heard her telling Lady Lucas how wonderful it is to have Jane soon settled at Netherfield.’

Elizabeth shook her head with a rueful smile.

‘Mamma will never change,’ she said.

‘But at least, as she has three daughters about to be married, she will not be able to bother you too, much, eh, Lizzy? For she will have to spend some of her time bothering your sisters instead! You would all like an autumn wedding, your mother tells me?’

‘Yes. Jane, Mary and I would like to be married together. Georgiana, Kitty and Lydia will be our attendants.’

‘I do not think Lydia deserves such a distinction,’ said Mr Bennet gravely. For although he did not know about the elopement, he guessed that she had somehow been sent home in disgrace. The idea that she was homesick had never fooled him.

‘Lydia is our sister. We cannot leave her out,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Besides, if you do not allow her to join us, her lamentations will be heard all the way to Brussels!’

Mr Bennet laughed.

‘There is something in what you say. Very well, then, have your triple wedding and have your three sisters – Georgiana, Kitty and Lydia – as your attendants. It will be fitting to have three attendants for three brides. I will miss you Lizzy, but as long as you truly love your Mr Darcy then I am content.’

‘I do, Papa,’ she said.

She curtseyed and then she went out into the garden.

Mr Darcy was walking there. He had a slight limp still, but his physician assured him it would be gone in time for the wedding. Elizabeth took his arm and together they walked through the garden, stopping now and then to embrace as they planned their wedding and their life together at Pemberley.

‘This has been an extraordinary year,’ said Mr Darcy to Elizabeth. ‘It has seen the defeat of Napoleon but it has seen something much more important to me. It has seen you become my affianced bride.’

‘In London, I heard some of the matrons saying that Napoleon was not the only one to have met his Waterloo. They said that you had met yours at well.’

Mr Darcy laughed.

‘You are not my Waterloo, Lizzy. Waterloo was a defeat for Napoleon, but this is a victory for me. A victory over my pride and all my worst failings. And for my prize I have something that Napoleon could never dream of. I have you.’ He bent his head and kissed her on the lips. It was a sweet, sweet moment. ‘For what is the point of conquering Europe if you do not have the woman you love by your side?’ he asked, his velvety brown eyes full of his love for her.

She was amazed to think it was only three short months since she had been in this very garden, cutting flowers for the house with Jane, when Lydia had flown up the path with the news she was going to Brussels. Then, Elizabeth had been angry at heartsore, for she had still not recovered from Mr Darcy’s first, terrible proposal.

But now, here she was, with all the misunderstandings resolved, engaged to Mr Darcy. She was the happiest of women. She had been through trials and tribulations but she had survived. And not only survived, she had conquered her doubts and her fears to arrive at her own happy ending.

In the idyllic setting of the Longbourn garden, on a dreamy summer afternoon, she had nothing left to wish for. She had only the beauty of the moment to enjoy and a lifetime of happiness to look forward to with Mr Darcy.