A Walk to Atoka
An unexpected turn of affairs causes Mr. Darcy to leave Rosings not with a refusal, but with a wife.
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or plot of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice
Chapter 1:
Elizabeth Bennet walked into Charlotte’s breakfast parlor, bonnet and gloves in hand.
“Going for your customary walk around the park, Lizzy?” Mrs. Collins remarked.
Elizabeth smiled at her friend.
“I am going for a walk, Charlotte, but not merely around the park. I thought that I would go up to that village, Atoka, which everyone around here often talks about. I understand that the scenery up there is delightful.” Miss Bennet failed to mention that after three consecutive days of meeting Mr. Darcy in the groves of Rosings Park, she was determined to prevent it from happening a fourth time.
Charlotte’s face reflected surprise, and concern.
“Lizzy, I do not mean to interfere with your plans, but perhaps it is not wise for you to go to Atoka alone. That village has always been a bit peculiar, and their laws in particular are much more stringent than anywhere else I have ever heard of. Why, do you know that last spring Lady Catherine drove through their main street in her carriage, and the town constable fined her for driving too quickly? She was quite put out and declares she will never visit again. It would be wiser, Lizzy, if you were to go with someone more experienced with the customs of the place. Even I do not claim to know them all.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Now that is bound to be a sensible and courageous town! That settles it; I must see it. Do not worry about me, Charlotte. Although I know that I have a scandalous tendency to run about the countryside, I promise to walk very slowly through Atoka’s streets!”
Still laughing gaily, Elizabeth left the parsonage and directed her footsteps in the direction of the queer little village.
Chapter 2:
Two hours later, Elizabeth found herself standing in Atoka, gazing at the magnificent landscape which lay below her feet. Its beauty had not been exaggerated, and she was so grateful that she had the opportunity to view it in the spring, when all the apple trees and wildflowers were blossoming abundantly.
At length, she tired of beholding the scene and directed her attention to the village itself. Wandering down the infamous main street, she observed that it was a quaint little place, with old stone buildings and dwellings, many of which were covered in ivy. She smiled to herself, pleased that she had followed her own counsel and dared to see it.
It was not a long road, and soon it tapered off, leading ultimately to a little woody, park-like area. Curious to see what lay beyond it, Elizabeth walked forward through the trees. Her progress was suddenly halted when she realized that another person had preceded her there, and was sitting on the grass, his back against a sturdy, large chestnut tree. The man in question had been balancing a wooden tablet and sheets of paper upon his knee, writing. But the sound of her footsteps and of her gown rustling against the grass had captured his attention, and he had looked up. He stared at her for an instant, startled, before exclaiming,
“Miss Bennet!”
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied coldly. How on earth had she managed to meet the very man whom she sought to avoid by coming to Atoka?
“What a pleasant surprise to see you here,” the gentleman continued, as he folded up the letter he had been writing, pressed the Darcy crest onto it, and put it in his breast pocket before gathering up his tablet and other papers.
“It is a surprise to me too, sir. I had no idea that you were fond of Atoka,” Elizabeth returned shortly, preparing to walk a past him. To her dismay, he got up from the ground, reached for his hat, and joined her.
“It does remind me a little of Lambton, which is very near Pemberley. That chestnut tree there, for instance, is almost identical to the fine one which stands on Lambton’s green, near the smithy.”
Elizabeth might have remarked that her Aunt Gardiner grew up in Lambton, but she was in no mood to continue the conversation. Thus, she nodded, and hoping to leave his undesirable company as soon as possible, abandoned her idea of going further into the wood. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the street once more.
“Are you turning back, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked, walking behind her and keeping up with her fiery pace.
“As you see,” she said, quickening her pace even more.
Her tone did not turn him off. Instead, he simply stepped up to her side and continued accompanying her in silence, while she fumed. Why did this man always insist on being so contrary and disagreeable?
They travelled thus for several minutes. Around the middle of the length of the street, Elizabeth noticed a group of respectable looking men standing and talking. While her attention was absorbed in nodding politely to them, she forgot to step carefully and allowed her foot to slip into a large crevice in the road. Losing her balance, she would have fallen if Mr. Darcy had not grasped her arm and steadied her.
“Thank you, sir,” she said through gritted teeth, furious that she had allowed herself a near-tumble in the presence of the ever-fault-seeking gentleman.
“My honor, madam,” he replied, much more kindly, releasing her arm.
The incident would have been soon forgotten by both if they had not heard a good-humored laugh directed at them immediately afterwards. One of the men who was standing near them laughingly said to Mr. Darcy,
“Despite the fact that we have not been introduced, sir, I must congratulate you on your fine reflexes. Your wife is a lucky woman to have such an athletic husband to catch her when necessary.”
Before Mr. Darcy could answer, Elizabeth, who was bursting with anger at being presumed his wife, snapped,
“We are not married.”
Suddenly, the citizens of Atoka, who until now had been filled with jesting and good-humor, became quite serious. Elizabeth, displeasure still clouding her mind, did not notice that Mr. Darcy, who was far more experienced with the village, had taken a sharp breath and looked a bit anxious at her accidental piece of information.
One of the men, who had the appearance of a merchant, leaned a bit closer to the couple.
“Is he your brother, then?” he asked in too quiet a tone.
“No,” Elizabeth said, with an arch look of her eyes. “He is a slight acquaintance of mine. Good day.”
“Just a moment, madam,” the merchant pursued. “If he is only an acquaintance to you, then where is your chaperone?”
“We do not have one,” Elizabeth returned. “We met accidentally in the wood, and were not planning to be alone in each other’s company. Thank you for your concern, but I am quite alright. Good day.”
An elderly man stepped forward, took her hand, and halted her.
“Wait, milady. This is a serious case, and it cannot be brushed off like you wish to do. You are both unmarried, is that correct?” he asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, becoming puzzled at all the attention surrounding the everyday circumstance.
The men looked at each other, then at Mr. Darcy, who wore a strange, slightly worried countenance.
“You, unlike the lady, seem to have some sort of idea about the consequences of your offense, young man,” the merchant said. “Well, I suppose that you are ready to lead her to the altar?”
“What?” Elizabeth gasped, uncomprehending the peculiar question.
“Young lady,” another of the men, Atoka’s magistrate, replied, “in Atoka, we have laws governing such matters. If two unmarried people are in each other’s company without a chaperone, they must marry immediately.”
“And if the parties refuse?”
“Then they will be detained in Atoka until they comply.”
Elizabeth stared at the magistrate in disbelief, and finally looked at Mr. Darcy.
“Do you suppose that this is all a jest?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation.
Mr. Darcy gazed at her with a slightly sad smile.
“Unfortunately, no, Miss Bennet. Atoka, an ancient town, enjoys a unique privilege of establishing their own laws, separate from the laws which govern the rest of England. Visitors are naturally expected to abide by them. I must apologize, Miss Bennet; I should not have joined your walk, seeing that you were unaccompanied.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, sir,” the magistrate put in. “She would not have fared much better if we had seen her, a single young lady, walking about without an escort. The consequences in that case are even more stringent. Milady, I realize that this is an unfortunate circumstance, but ignorance of the law is no defense.”
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy interjected, forcefully, looking straight at her, “will you do me the honor of accepting my hand?”
Elizabeth still gaped at him, wondering if it would be possible to awaken from this nightmare.
“I am sure that is not necessary, Mr. Darcy. There must be some mistake! Someone, somewhere, must be able to make an exception. After all, we have been walking together for less than ten minutes!”
The magistrate shook his head.
“Madam, I have been the magistrate in Atoka for thirty years, and I assure you that an exception or reprieve has never been given in such a case. Indeed, our standards are not so different from the rest of England, when all is said and done, Miss Bennet. If you were to be alone in a gentleman’s company elsewhere, you would be considered compromised; here, we simply remedy the situation at once rather than giving society the opportunity to damage your reputation and that of your family with its gossip. Now, the church is in this direction. Come along, young lady.”
“We cannot marry today!” Elizabeth exclaimed as they led her towards the said edifice, the magistrate’s hand on her arm. “We must have the banns read, and my family be sent for…” she reasoned, striving for delay.
“As aforesaid, I am the magistrate; you will have a special license written out the moment we enter the church.”
Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Darcy, expecting him to say something, anything. After all, he was being forced to marry a savage from Hertfordshire! Could he not attempt to bribe them, break away from them? Seeing her glance, he stepped closer to her.
“Miss Bennet, I, too, would like it if my sister and extended family could be here today, but there is no help for it. However, that does not preclude us from having a ball in a few weeks to celebrate our nuptials and inviting all our friends and family then. I am sorry that your father will not be able to give you away; I know how close the both of you are.”
Elizabeth glared at him, but before she could formulate an answer, they arrived at the church. As they stepped inside the cool, stone building, Miss Bennet found herself growing very numb. She felt as if she were walking through a fog; her mind, clearly overwrought, chose to protect itself by weakening her awareness of the proceedings.
Chapter 3:
The magistrate filled out the necessary documents, the clergyman was summoned, a ring was somehow procured, and she and Mr. Darcy were prodded to the front of the church. Elizabeth, sunken in despair and semi-consciousness, did as she was told and took her place in front of the altar without protest. She barely registered the clergyman’s words as he began,
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here…”
A minute later, she was roused somewhat by Mr. Darcy’s deep, dominating voice,
“I will.”
Startled, she next heard that the clergyman was asking her:
“Elizabeth, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Keeping her eyes fastened on Mr. Darcy’s cravat, and avoiding his eyes at all costs, she managed to say,
“I will.”
For the rest of the ceremony, she lapsed back into her despondent stupor, repeated what the minister told her too, allowed Mr. Darcy to hold her hand when it was necessary, and tried to breathe. After several minutes, which felt like an eternity to poor Elizabeth, it was over. They had been pronounced man and wife, and there was a new ring upon her finger. She stood like an unmovable statue in the spot where she had become a married woman as Mr. Darcy was given the proofs of the marriage. When all such business had been transacted, the imposing gentleman returned to his bride, took her hand gently, but with a hint of possessiveness, and placed it on his arm. They walked down quietly down the aisle together, and out of the church.
Chapter 4:
As they made their way down the steps of the church, the fresh air blew in Elizabeth’s face, and thoroughly revived her. Suddenly, the significance of the past hour washed over her. Mr. Darcy was her husband! Her husband. No longer would his annoying company be imposed on her when she accidentally met him in the park or at social gatherings; she was now doomed to bear his imperious, displeased presence during long carriage rides, sweltering summer days and freezing winter ones, and whenever he chose to accompany her. And of course, for the rest of her life he would reproach her for her ignorance of Atoka’s customs and the consequent betrayal of their unmarried state to its citizens. Not to mention the way he would surely abuse her low connections.
“This way, Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said, turning left and leading her to a buggy. An unpleasant shiver worked its way down her spine when she heard her name said for the first time by his voice. She wondered how he, who had just been forced into a most imprudent marriage, could be so tranquil. If his feelings did not revolt, surely his pride should have. They reached the conveyance, and he handed in his bride before climbing in beside her and taking the reins.
“You know, I wondered why on earth my horse should have thrown his shoe yesterday, since he has never done anything of the sort in his life. But now I see it was Providence. If my creature had not been at his shoe-fitting today, I would have ridden up here and it would have been much more difficult to bring home my new wife with a single horse and one-rider saddle,” he concluded with a heartfelt smile.
But the kind expression was not noticed by his bride. She was staring straight ahead, thinking of things which had never before occurred to her in all her twenty years. English laws, in particular. That once a woman was married, her husband legally owned every piece of property she brought into the marriage. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the very gown and bonnet she wore, the ones that had been purchased for her by her father, were no longer her own. They were Mr. Darcy’s. Everything, except the innermost workings of her mind and her soul, was his.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, astute man he was, noticed that Elizabeth was in no mood for conversation and did not press her further. He, too, relapsed into silence as the buggy drove down from Atoka back into Hunsford. Only when they were at the periphery of Rosings Park did he remark,
“We will stay at Rosings tonight, and travel on to Longbourn early tomorrow morning to acquaint your family with today’s events. I think it fair to forewarn you that Lady Catherine will be none too pleased with our marriage. As you may have well noticed, she has been nurturing the idea that my cousin and I would wed, even though neither of us ever had the slightest interest in the other. However, she holds a grudge against Atoka, and will probably blame its residents more than us.”
“No,” Elizabeth said shortly.
Mr. Darcy turned his head and looked at her.
“No? I am afraid your meaning escapes me.”
“I will not stay at Rosings tonight.” She knew it was foolish to resist the will of a man who had complete authority over her and was used to getting his own way, but she felt her lucidity would give way if she followed his proposal.
“Where would you like to stay? The parsonage?”
“Yes. I will stay at the parsonage, and you will stay at Rosings.”
“Elizabeth, it is customary for a married couple to sleep under the same roof.”
“No one needs to know that we are married.”
“Do you mean that we should conceal our nuptials? Elizabeth, disguise of every sort is my abhorrence! I know that it has been an eventful day, but our family and friends must be informed.”
“You know nothing!” Elizabeth burst out, exasperated, teary-eyed and frenzied. Darcy gazed at her in surprise as she passionately continued. “This morning I was simply Elizabeth Bennet, an unattached young woman, going for a pleasant walk in the countryside. Now, merely a few hours later, I am returning as a matron. In between I have been accused of impropriety, dragged into a church, and wed to a man who despises me and mine. I cannot fathom why you are so eager to introduce your inferior bride to your noble family, but rest assured, sir, if you compel me to bear Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s condescension tonight, you will not only have a tolerable wife who has been slighted by other men, but one who is stark raving mad!”
Mr. Darcy sharply pulled on the reins, causing the buggy to stop short on the dirt road. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth feared that she may have gone too far. How would such an abhorrent man punish her for her frank speech?
But there was no fury in his countenance. Instead, Mr. Darcy looked bewildered. And grief-stricken, as if her words had cut him to the heart. The pause was to Elizabeth’s feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of deep sorrow, he slowly said,
“Elizabeth…you presume that I dislike you? That I am unhappy with what happened in Atoka today?”
Elizabeth laughed forcedly.
“Sir, you are certainly are not going to tell me that you consider today’s wedding to be a desirable one! You have just said yourself that disguise of any sort is your abhorrence. Therefore, please do not be hypocritical with me. I know that you consider the society I was brought up in confined and unvarying, that your natural instinct is to flinch whenever my Cheapside relations are mentioned, and that my dowry is too small to be considered pocket-change to you. After all the unpleasantness of today, at least let us not be false to one another.”
Mr. Darcy stared at her for another minute, and then without replying, flicked the reins in order to cause the buggy to move. After some contemplation, he quietly replied,
“Very well. We will not inform my aunt or your friends tonight. You may stay at the parsonage as if nothing has occurred. On the morrow, we will leave written notes for everyone concerned, explaining the whole matter, and start off for Longbourn at once. Would that suit you?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, stunned that he had actually yielded to her demands.
They drove on in silence. When they were quite near, but still out of view of the parsonage, Mr. Darcy once again stopped the buggy. He was going to alight to lift Elizabeth down, but she hurriedly forestalled him with a wave of her hand.
“Please, do not trouble yourself. Goodnight.”
“Wait a moment,” he put in, lightly touching her arm. When she turned back to him, he withdrew a letter from his breast-pocket and handed it to her.
“Would you do me the honor of reading that letter? I was writing it today when you came upon me in the wood in Atoka. I meant it for my sister, but I think that it would be of far greater use if you were to read it tonight.”
Puzzled, Elizabeth instinctively took it, nodded, and jumped out of the buggy. Once she was standing on solid ground, Mr. Darcy concluded,
“Meet me in the grove tomorrow morning at seven. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Goodnight,” she echoed quietly.
He nodded, and drove away. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.
Elizabeth trudged onto the parsonage, making sure that the letter was tucked firmly into her pocket and that her gloves were on, thus hiding the wedding ring. As soon as she stepped through the door, Charlotte called out merrily to her.
“We had begun to despair of your ever returning, Lizzy! Come and tell us how your visit to Atoka was.”
Elizabeth ventured no further than the parlor door.
“I am rather tired, Charlotte, but Atoka was beautiful, I suppose.”
“Did you get into any trouble?” Maria asked with a mischievous smile.
Her friend paused, but quickly regained her wit.
“I can assure you, Maria, that unlike Lady Catherine’s, my pocketbook did not suffer due to my voyage,” Elizabeth replied, laughing as she went up to her room. It was necessary to laugh, when she would have rather cried.
Chapter 5:
That night, after Elizabeth had brushed her hair, she sat before her mirror fiddling with the new, unfamiliar ring which encircled her finger. Mrs. Darcy. How peculiar that sounded! She thought of a certain gentleman who was no doubt retiring to rest at Rosings, and wondered if he would sleep soundly. She certainly would not.
Recalling his request and the letter, she fetched it from her gown’s pocket and fingered the crest which was impressed upon it. What on earth could Mr. Darcy have written to his sister that was so important for her to know? With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and read.
My dearest little sister,
I was delighted to receive your letter of the third. Allow me to congratulate you on mastering another piece of music. I cannot wait to hear you play it the next time I am in Town with you, which I hope will not be long in the future.
However, the rest of your letter troubled me. Georgie, why do you still insist upon apologizing for what happened in Ramsgate last summer? You take too much upon yourself. Little one, as Richard and I have told you many times, there is no way you could have known what a cheat Wickham is. When he followed you to Ramsgate and proposed the elopement, you were ignorant of the quarrel between him and myself. You being then fifteen and consumed with your studies, I saw no reason to tell you of how he had asked, and received, three thousand pounds instead of the living, and then, after spending the money on vice and dissipation, demanded the living again. Nor did I consider confiding in you of his character, for as you now know, his life is consumed with activities which are not mentioned among respectable men, let alone young ladies. Furthermore, through all of this you had Mrs. Younge, your companion but his accomplice, goading you to accept his declarations and proposals. For the last time, my Georgiana, I do not blame you for what occurred and entreat you to stop castigating yourself for it. It pains me that after these many months, so unrespectable a man and his actions still govern your mind. The fault was entirely Mr. Wickham’s and Mrs. Younge’s, not yours. And anyhow, dear sister, when I happened upon you a day or two before the intended elopement, you confessed the whole to me at once. That took true courage, and for that I am forever proud of you.
But let me now turn to happier thoughts. You might remember that in my letters from Netherfield Park last autumn and during our winter in Town I often mentioned a young lady by the name of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Upon my arrival at Rosings, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Miss Elizabeth was visiting at Mr. Collins’ parsonage, being a particular friend of Mrs. Collins.
She has not lost one ounce of her wit or sparkle. I wish you could have heard her making mincemeat of our aunt’s interrogations and sometimes even questioning her advice! I found that I was standing at the window more and more often, not to conceal my displeasure, but because I feared catching sight of Lady Catherine’s confused countenance and bursting into uncharacteristic laughter.
Miss Elizabeth’s playing on the pianoforte has only improved since the last time I heard it, and I can tell you, Georgie, that the sound of her singing voice echoing through Rosings’ parlor is more pleasant than that of the larks which often sit on your windowsill at Pemberley.
Now, my little girl, I do not know how much you have deduced by yourself. Indeed, as close as we are, I am certain that you know that I have never before been impressed by a woman, and that I have never spoken of any other lady as I spoke of Miss Elizabeth. But in case it is not yet perfectly clear to you, allow me to tell you the whole truth: I ardently admire and love Elizabeth Bennet!
I can guess what you are thinking, so I will answer your burning question without holding you in further suspense. Yes, Georgiana, I am planning to make an offer to her. You shall have a sister. I am only sorry that you did not have one sooner.
I must confess that while my attachment to Miss Elizabeth has been of some duration, I have hesitated in taking this important step. For, while the lady herself is perfectly lovely, her connections and certain members of her family do leave something to be desired. However, I am done with struggling in vain. I am irrevocably in love, and it would be sheer foolishness to suffer Elizabeth’s absence for the rest of my days because her mother is a bit more outspoken than necessary. Come to think of it, Mrs. Bennet’s character does not differ much from our aunt’s, except Lady Catherine declares her ideas in a more stately manner and has the convenience of employing subordinates who will wait on her and listen to her pronouncements.
I can scarcely recognize myself, Georgiana. It is extraordinary how love can change a man, how blessed the most mundane moments become when one is in the presence of their beloved. I can wish you no greater happiness than the one which I feel in the proximity of my Elizabeth. You, and all of London, I daresay, are aware of my dislike of dancing. And yet, each night for a week now, my dreams have consisted of being on the floor with Elizabeth, the air filled with music which never ceases playing, and having those beautiful, deep eyes of hers’ fixed smilingly upon me for the duration of our eternal dance. I love her laughter, her intellect, her wit, her smiles, her chestnut curls which frame that beautiful face so well.
I must close now, sister. I am writing this letter from Atoka, whither I have slipped away from our aunt’s curious nature, and I must start finding my way back to Rosings presently. When I have spoken to Elizabeth, I will write with further particulars. God bless you and keep you, my little dear, until we meet again.
Your brother,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth, upon her perusal of this missive, felt extremely grateful that she was sitting down. She was quite certain that had she been standing, her legs would have given way.
The first shock was the new, shocking information which the letter betrayed about Wickham. The favorite of Hertfordshire had attempted a dishonorable elopement with a fifteen year old girl? He was sunk into sinful habits? She tried to dismiss it as the grossest falsehood, but the consideration was soon checked by the fact that Mr. Darcy would have no purpose in privately corresponding about a near-elopement with his sister if it had never taken place. Soon afterwards, she recollected Mr. Wickham’s expressions and communications that first evening at Mrs. Philips’, and realized, to her further horror, how forward and inconsistent with his conduct they had been. Her head aching and spinning, she was forced to clear Mr. Darcy of wrongdoing, and to place the entire blame upon Mr. Wickham’s shoulders.
But the greater consternation, by far, was Mr. Darcy’s passionate confession of love. He loved her chestnut curls, her singing, her intellect, her wit? How had that come about? Was not it just a few short months ago that he had thought her barely tolerable? She had mistaken him, once again. His silence was not of anger or disgust, but of deep attention. His looks were not of disapproval; they were of ardent admiration. Charlotte had been right. Oh, why had she not listened?
Elizabeth recalled Mr. Darcy’s entire attitude in Atoka earlier that day. He had not protested the marriage once, as she had fully expected him to do. Instead, he had only expressed remorse that their families could not be present. She had thought his compliance quite puzzling, but if he had planned to make an offer to her anyway then the day’s events did nothing but bring his plan to fruition faster.
Elizabeth lay down on her bed, not bothering to extinguish the candles, knowing that sleep would not come. Instead, she stared at the ceiling for hours as she reflected. Her new husband was not possessed of irreligious or unjust habits; he was a devoted and affectionate brother, an intelligent man, and he loved her. She could not but help feel flattered that he appreciated her wit and her mind. He might be proud, but so was she- after all, was not all her umbrage at him the result of his wounding her pride at the Meryton Assembly? Again and again she thanked God that she had managed to find out the truth about Wickham and Mr. Darcy’s character without offending her husband by broaching the subject to him. Perhaps, with his love and her newfound knowledge, they might not be miserable together.
Chapter 6:
About three in the morning, she began to pack her clothes into a small satchel and write a letter to Charlotte explaining the situation and begging her to send the rest of her belongings to Longbourn. She bathed her face, put on a fresh gown, and brushed her hair. She managed to conclude these activities as the sun rose above the horizon.
Ascertaining that her room was tidy and the letter left in plain sight, Elizabeth crept downstairs, satchel in hand. Going out through a side door, she carefully unlatched the bolt, praying that no one would hear and question her departure. Once outside, she ran quietly in the direction of the grove Mr. Darcy specified the evening before.
When she had almost reached it, she slowed down to a walk. Her footsteps fell softly, and thus she managed to enter the grove without its other occupant noticing her arrival. Her husband, attired in an expensive overcoat, was pacing back and forth at the far end of the grove, deep in contemplation. Behind him, a waiting carriage was visible through the rather thick bushes and trees.
Elizabeth paused, and observed the man with whom she had pledge to spend her life. Her mind wiped clean of all her prejudices, she gazed at him in the manner she had looked upon him that evening at the Meryton Assembly before he had made that ill-fated remark. He was the most handsome man of her acquaintance, that was certain. He bore himself with remarkable dignity, but- how had it escaped her before?- there was no vanity in his noble stature. Pride was present, yes, but it was well-tempered that morning by the concern which was written all over his countenance.
She slowly came forward to meet him. At her approaching footsteps, he started, and looking up, caught her eye. Mrs. Darcy stopped instinctively, looking back at him. She noticed that his gaze was apprehensive, as if he were uncertain of her feelings and how to proceed.
“Good morning,” he finally said, inspecting her face anxiously.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. He had hereto been kind and lenient to her, and she longed to repay him.
“Good morning…Fitzwilliam,” she answered in a low voice.
At the unexpected sound of his Christian name from his beloved’s lips the strained look on Mr. Darcy’s face was washed away by an expression of heartfelt delight. Doffing his characteristic reserve, he quickly closed the distance between himself and his bride, took and pressed the gloved hand which she held out to him.
“Oh, my darling!” he murmured, placing her hand on his coat, close to his heart. His wife blushed fiercely and could scarcely bring herself to meet his eye. They stood thusly for some moments, before he pressed her hand gently again and designed to ask,
“Did you read the letter?”
Elizabeth nodded, her ashamed eyes seeking the ground.
“I did, and I am afraid that I must apologize for my outburst yesterday. I did not have the least idea that you held me in such high regard.”
Her husband shook his head.
“No, the fault was entirely mine. I should have courted you properly long ago.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame considering the previous months’ events,” Elizabeth said, a small smile hovering about her lips at the pleasure of hearing the proud Mr. Darcy admit wrongdoing and begging pardon. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable. Shall we declare a truce on the matter?”
“Of course, my dearest,” Darcy replied, giving her another smile and placing her hand on his arm. “I am a fortunate man indeed, to have such an understanding wife.”
Elizabeth laughed as they left the grove and walked to the carriage. While she said nothing, she was equally grateful for having such a patient husband.
Chapter 7:
When they had reached it, Mr. Darcy called out,
“Tom, Andrew, John!”
The coachman and both footman turned towards the sound of their employer’s voice and looked at him and at the lady he was escorting.
“I know that it is a bit unexpected, but I would like to present my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. From now on, her orders are to have the same weight with you as mine.”
Elizabeth thought that the poor driver would lose consciousness from shock and tumble from his precarious, perched position. The footmen, on the other hand, seemed to be expending quite a lot of effort to keep their mouths from dropping open. But she had to admire their training, for in a few seconds their faces settled back into their customary respectful positions as they wholeheartedly voiced their congratulations.
Darcy nodded, and smiling handed her into the richly ornamented and spacious carriage. Elizabeth marveled at its interior. The worldly weight of her new position suddenly descended on her, and while she was not a materialistic woman, she could not help feeling the honor of being such prosperous gentleman’s wife, especially considering her humble roots.
The bridegroom got in beside her, and the conveyance began to move. As they drove along, Elizabeth lowered the window glass and took off her gloves and bonnet.
“It is quite a warm day for April, is it not, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, putting away her doffed accessories.
“Quite,” he replied. But his tone was absentminded, and when she turned towards him, she noticed that he was scrutinizing her face.
“I can see that, like myself, you did not sleep last night,” he remarked. “Are you not tired, Elizabeth?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose I am becoming a little drowsy,” she admitted. “But I do not regret my sleepless night; I spent the time in productive reflection.”
“You should try to rest a little during the journey, my love. We have a half-day’s journey before we reach Longbourn, and it would not do to appear exhausted in front of your family.”
“It would certainly not cast a favorable light on you, Fitzwilliam, if, a mere twenty-four hours after marrying me, you brought me home in a most wearied and ill condition!”
Darcy forced himself to look amused at her humor, but the sheer idea of seeing his precious treasure in anything but the best of health was enough to grieve him. Determined to avoid any such occurrence he pleaded,
“Elizabeth, please sleep now. I will wake you when we enter Hertfordshire.”
“I think I will do what I promised at the altar yesterday and obey you, husband, in this matter at least,” the lady replied as she tried to settle into a comfortable position for a doze. Her dilemma was presently alleviated, for the bridegroom slid closer to her, and with one arm, drew her into a most tender embrace. He adjusted his shoulder so that it would be a convenient resting place, and settled her head down upon it. Cradling her gently, he pressed several kisses upon her dark locks. Elizabeth felt her eyelids growing heavy and she soon closed them, secure in the knowledge that she would be held in that protective, cherished clasp until they arrived at Longbourn.
Elizabeth Bennet walked into Charlotte’s breakfast parlor, bonnet and gloves in hand.
“Going for your customary walk around the park, Lizzy?” Mrs. Collins remarked.
Elizabeth smiled at her friend.
“I am going for a walk, Charlotte, but not merely around the park. I thought that I would go up to that village, Atoka, which everyone around here often talks about. I understand that the scenery up there is delightful.” Miss Bennet failed to mention that after three consecutive days of meeting Mr. Darcy in the groves of Rosings Park, she was determined to prevent it from happening a fourth time.
Charlotte’s face reflected surprise, and concern.
“Lizzy, I do not mean to interfere with your plans, but perhaps it is not wise for you to go to Atoka alone. That village has always been a bit peculiar, and their laws in particular are much more stringent than anywhere else I have ever heard of. Why, do you know that last spring Lady Catherine drove through their main street in her carriage, and the town constable fined her for driving too quickly? She was quite put out and declares she will never visit again. It would be wiser, Lizzy, if you were to go with someone more experienced with the customs of the place. Even I do not claim to know them all.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“Now that is bound to be a sensible and courageous town! That settles it; I must see it. Do not worry about me, Charlotte. Although I know that I have a scandalous tendency to run about the countryside, I promise to walk very slowly through Atoka’s streets!”
Still laughing gaily, Elizabeth left the parsonage and directed her footsteps in the direction of the queer little village.
Chapter 2:
Two hours later, Elizabeth found herself standing in Atoka, gazing at the magnificent landscape which lay below her feet. Its beauty had not been exaggerated, and she was so grateful that she had the opportunity to view it in the spring, when all the apple trees and wildflowers were blossoming abundantly.
At length, she tired of beholding the scene and directed her attention to the village itself. Wandering down the infamous main street, she observed that it was a quaint little place, with old stone buildings and dwellings, many of which were covered in ivy. She smiled to herself, pleased that she had followed her own counsel and dared to see it.
It was not a long road, and soon it tapered off, leading ultimately to a little woody, park-like area. Curious to see what lay beyond it, Elizabeth walked forward through the trees. Her progress was suddenly halted when she realized that another person had preceded her there, and was sitting on the grass, his back against a sturdy, large chestnut tree. The man in question had been balancing a wooden tablet and sheets of paper upon his knee, writing. But the sound of her footsteps and of her gown rustling against the grass had captured his attention, and he had looked up. He stared at her for an instant, startled, before exclaiming,
“Miss Bennet!”
“Mr. Darcy,” she replied coldly. How on earth had she managed to meet the very man whom she sought to avoid by coming to Atoka?
“What a pleasant surprise to see you here,” the gentleman continued, as he folded up the letter he had been writing, pressed the Darcy crest onto it, and put it in his breast pocket before gathering up his tablet and other papers.
“It is a surprise to me too, sir. I had no idea that you were fond of Atoka,” Elizabeth returned shortly, preparing to walk a past him. To her dismay, he got up from the ground, reached for his hat, and joined her.
“It does remind me a little of Lambton, which is very near Pemberley. That chestnut tree there, for instance, is almost identical to the fine one which stands on Lambton’s green, near the smithy.”
Elizabeth might have remarked that her Aunt Gardiner grew up in Lambton, but she was in no mood to continue the conversation. Thus, she nodded, and hoping to leave his undesirable company as soon as possible, abandoned her idea of going further into the wood. Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the street once more.
“Are you turning back, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Darcy asked, walking behind her and keeping up with her fiery pace.
“As you see,” she said, quickening her pace even more.
Her tone did not turn him off. Instead, he simply stepped up to her side and continued accompanying her in silence, while she fumed. Why did this man always insist on being so contrary and disagreeable?
They travelled thus for several minutes. Around the middle of the length of the street, Elizabeth noticed a group of respectable looking men standing and talking. While her attention was absorbed in nodding politely to them, she forgot to step carefully and allowed her foot to slip into a large crevice in the road. Losing her balance, she would have fallen if Mr. Darcy had not grasped her arm and steadied her.
“Thank you, sir,” she said through gritted teeth, furious that she had allowed herself a near-tumble in the presence of the ever-fault-seeking gentleman.
“My honor, madam,” he replied, much more kindly, releasing her arm.
The incident would have been soon forgotten by both if they had not heard a good-humored laugh directed at them immediately afterwards. One of the men who was standing near them laughingly said to Mr. Darcy,
“Despite the fact that we have not been introduced, sir, I must congratulate you on your fine reflexes. Your wife is a lucky woman to have such an athletic husband to catch her when necessary.”
Before Mr. Darcy could answer, Elizabeth, who was bursting with anger at being presumed his wife, snapped,
“We are not married.”
Suddenly, the citizens of Atoka, who until now had been filled with jesting and good-humor, became quite serious. Elizabeth, displeasure still clouding her mind, did not notice that Mr. Darcy, who was far more experienced with the village, had taken a sharp breath and looked a bit anxious at her accidental piece of information.
One of the men, who had the appearance of a merchant, leaned a bit closer to the couple.
“Is he your brother, then?” he asked in too quiet a tone.
“No,” Elizabeth said, with an arch look of her eyes. “He is a slight acquaintance of mine. Good day.”
“Just a moment, madam,” the merchant pursued. “If he is only an acquaintance to you, then where is your chaperone?”
“We do not have one,” Elizabeth returned. “We met accidentally in the wood, and were not planning to be alone in each other’s company. Thank you for your concern, but I am quite alright. Good day.”
An elderly man stepped forward, took her hand, and halted her.
“Wait, milady. This is a serious case, and it cannot be brushed off like you wish to do. You are both unmarried, is that correct?” he asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, becoming puzzled at all the attention surrounding the everyday circumstance.
The men looked at each other, then at Mr. Darcy, who wore a strange, slightly worried countenance.
“You, unlike the lady, seem to have some sort of idea about the consequences of your offense, young man,” the merchant said. “Well, I suppose that you are ready to lead her to the altar?”
“What?” Elizabeth gasped, uncomprehending the peculiar question.
“Young lady,” another of the men, Atoka’s magistrate, replied, “in Atoka, we have laws governing such matters. If two unmarried people are in each other’s company without a chaperone, they must marry immediately.”
“And if the parties refuse?”
“Then they will be detained in Atoka until they comply.”
Elizabeth stared at the magistrate in disbelief, and finally looked at Mr. Darcy.
“Do you suppose that this is all a jest?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation.
Mr. Darcy gazed at her with a slightly sad smile.
“Unfortunately, no, Miss Bennet. Atoka, an ancient town, enjoys a unique privilege of establishing their own laws, separate from the laws which govern the rest of England. Visitors are naturally expected to abide by them. I must apologize, Miss Bennet; I should not have joined your walk, seeing that you were unaccompanied.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, sir,” the magistrate put in. “She would not have fared much better if we had seen her, a single young lady, walking about without an escort. The consequences in that case are even more stringent. Milady, I realize that this is an unfortunate circumstance, but ignorance of the law is no defense.”
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy interjected, forcefully, looking straight at her, “will you do me the honor of accepting my hand?”
Elizabeth still gaped at him, wondering if it would be possible to awaken from this nightmare.
“I am sure that is not necessary, Mr. Darcy. There must be some mistake! Someone, somewhere, must be able to make an exception. After all, we have been walking together for less than ten minutes!”
The magistrate shook his head.
“Madam, I have been the magistrate in Atoka for thirty years, and I assure you that an exception or reprieve has never been given in such a case. Indeed, our standards are not so different from the rest of England, when all is said and done, Miss Bennet. If you were to be alone in a gentleman’s company elsewhere, you would be considered compromised; here, we simply remedy the situation at once rather than giving society the opportunity to damage your reputation and that of your family with its gossip. Now, the church is in this direction. Come along, young lady.”
“We cannot marry today!” Elizabeth exclaimed as they led her towards the said edifice, the magistrate’s hand on her arm. “We must have the banns read, and my family be sent for…” she reasoned, striving for delay.
“As aforesaid, I am the magistrate; you will have a special license written out the moment we enter the church.”
Elizabeth glanced back at Mr. Darcy, expecting him to say something, anything. After all, he was being forced to marry a savage from Hertfordshire! Could he not attempt to bribe them, break away from them? Seeing her glance, he stepped closer to her.
“Miss Bennet, I, too, would like it if my sister and extended family could be here today, but there is no help for it. However, that does not preclude us from having a ball in a few weeks to celebrate our nuptials and inviting all our friends and family then. I am sorry that your father will not be able to give you away; I know how close the both of you are.”
Elizabeth glared at him, but before she could formulate an answer, they arrived at the church. As they stepped inside the cool, stone building, Miss Bennet found herself growing very numb. She felt as if she were walking through a fog; her mind, clearly overwrought, chose to protect itself by weakening her awareness of the proceedings.
Chapter 3:
The magistrate filled out the necessary documents, the clergyman was summoned, a ring was somehow procured, and she and Mr. Darcy were prodded to the front of the church. Elizabeth, sunken in despair and semi-consciousness, did as she was told and took her place in front of the altar without protest. She barely registered the clergyman’s words as he began,
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here…”
A minute later, she was roused somewhat by Mr. Darcy’s deep, dominating voice,
“I will.”
Startled, she next heard that the clergyman was asking her:
“Elizabeth, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Keeping her eyes fastened on Mr. Darcy’s cravat, and avoiding his eyes at all costs, she managed to say,
“I will.”
For the rest of the ceremony, she lapsed back into her despondent stupor, repeated what the minister told her too, allowed Mr. Darcy to hold her hand when it was necessary, and tried to breathe. After several minutes, which felt like an eternity to poor Elizabeth, it was over. They had been pronounced man and wife, and there was a new ring upon her finger. She stood like an unmovable statue in the spot where she had become a married woman as Mr. Darcy was given the proofs of the marriage. When all such business had been transacted, the imposing gentleman returned to his bride, took her hand gently, but with a hint of possessiveness, and placed it on his arm. They walked down quietly down the aisle together, and out of the church.
Chapter 4:
As they made their way down the steps of the church, the fresh air blew in Elizabeth’s face, and thoroughly revived her. Suddenly, the significance of the past hour washed over her. Mr. Darcy was her husband! Her husband. No longer would his annoying company be imposed on her when she accidentally met him in the park or at social gatherings; she was now doomed to bear his imperious, displeased presence during long carriage rides, sweltering summer days and freezing winter ones, and whenever he chose to accompany her. And of course, for the rest of her life he would reproach her for her ignorance of Atoka’s customs and the consequent betrayal of their unmarried state to its citizens. Not to mention the way he would surely abuse her low connections.
“This way, Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said, turning left and leading her to a buggy. An unpleasant shiver worked its way down her spine when she heard her name said for the first time by his voice. She wondered how he, who had just been forced into a most imprudent marriage, could be so tranquil. If his feelings did not revolt, surely his pride should have. They reached the conveyance, and he handed in his bride before climbing in beside her and taking the reins.
“You know, I wondered why on earth my horse should have thrown his shoe yesterday, since he has never done anything of the sort in his life. But now I see it was Providence. If my creature had not been at his shoe-fitting today, I would have ridden up here and it would have been much more difficult to bring home my new wife with a single horse and one-rider saddle,” he concluded with a heartfelt smile.
But the kind expression was not noticed by his bride. She was staring straight ahead, thinking of things which had never before occurred to her in all her twenty years. English laws, in particular. That once a woman was married, her husband legally owned every piece of property she brought into the marriage. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the very gown and bonnet she wore, the ones that had been purchased for her by her father, were no longer her own. They were Mr. Darcy’s. Everything, except the innermost workings of her mind and her soul, was his.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, astute man he was, noticed that Elizabeth was in no mood for conversation and did not press her further. He, too, relapsed into silence as the buggy drove down from Atoka back into Hunsford. Only when they were at the periphery of Rosings Park did he remark,
“We will stay at Rosings tonight, and travel on to Longbourn early tomorrow morning to acquaint your family with today’s events. I think it fair to forewarn you that Lady Catherine will be none too pleased with our marriage. As you may have well noticed, she has been nurturing the idea that my cousin and I would wed, even though neither of us ever had the slightest interest in the other. However, she holds a grudge against Atoka, and will probably blame its residents more than us.”
“No,” Elizabeth said shortly.
Mr. Darcy turned his head and looked at her.
“No? I am afraid your meaning escapes me.”
“I will not stay at Rosings tonight.” She knew it was foolish to resist the will of a man who had complete authority over her and was used to getting his own way, but she felt her lucidity would give way if she followed his proposal.
“Where would you like to stay? The parsonage?”
“Yes. I will stay at the parsonage, and you will stay at Rosings.”
“Elizabeth, it is customary for a married couple to sleep under the same roof.”
“No one needs to know that we are married.”
“Do you mean that we should conceal our nuptials? Elizabeth, disguise of every sort is my abhorrence! I know that it has been an eventful day, but our family and friends must be informed.”
“You know nothing!” Elizabeth burst out, exasperated, teary-eyed and frenzied. Darcy gazed at her in surprise as she passionately continued. “This morning I was simply Elizabeth Bennet, an unattached young woman, going for a pleasant walk in the countryside. Now, merely a few hours later, I am returning as a matron. In between I have been accused of impropriety, dragged into a church, and wed to a man who despises me and mine. I cannot fathom why you are so eager to introduce your inferior bride to your noble family, but rest assured, sir, if you compel me to bear Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s condescension tonight, you will not only have a tolerable wife who has been slighted by other men, but one who is stark raving mad!”
Mr. Darcy sharply pulled on the reins, causing the buggy to stop short on the dirt road. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth feared that she may have gone too far. How would such an abhorrent man punish her for her frank speech?
But there was no fury in his countenance. Instead, Mr. Darcy looked bewildered. And grief-stricken, as if her words had cut him to the heart. The pause was to Elizabeth’s feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of deep sorrow, he slowly said,
“Elizabeth…you presume that I dislike you? That I am unhappy with what happened in Atoka today?”
Elizabeth laughed forcedly.
“Sir, you are certainly are not going to tell me that you consider today’s wedding to be a desirable one! You have just said yourself that disguise of any sort is your abhorrence. Therefore, please do not be hypocritical with me. I know that you consider the society I was brought up in confined and unvarying, that your natural instinct is to flinch whenever my Cheapside relations are mentioned, and that my dowry is too small to be considered pocket-change to you. After all the unpleasantness of today, at least let us not be false to one another.”
Mr. Darcy stared at her for another minute, and then without replying, flicked the reins in order to cause the buggy to move. After some contemplation, he quietly replied,
“Very well. We will not inform my aunt or your friends tonight. You may stay at the parsonage as if nothing has occurred. On the morrow, we will leave written notes for everyone concerned, explaining the whole matter, and start off for Longbourn at once. Would that suit you?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, stunned that he had actually yielded to her demands.
They drove on in silence. When they were quite near, but still out of view of the parsonage, Mr. Darcy once again stopped the buggy. He was going to alight to lift Elizabeth down, but she hurriedly forestalled him with a wave of her hand.
“Please, do not trouble yourself. Goodnight.”
“Wait a moment,” he put in, lightly touching her arm. When she turned back to him, he withdrew a letter from his breast-pocket and handed it to her.
“Would you do me the honor of reading that letter? I was writing it today when you came upon me in the wood in Atoka. I meant it for my sister, but I think that it would be of far greater use if you were to read it tonight.”
Puzzled, Elizabeth instinctively took it, nodded, and jumped out of the buggy. Once she was standing on solid ground, Mr. Darcy concluded,
“Meet me in the grove tomorrow morning at seven. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Goodnight,” she echoed quietly.
He nodded, and drove away. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.
Elizabeth trudged onto the parsonage, making sure that the letter was tucked firmly into her pocket and that her gloves were on, thus hiding the wedding ring. As soon as she stepped through the door, Charlotte called out merrily to her.
“We had begun to despair of your ever returning, Lizzy! Come and tell us how your visit to Atoka was.”
Elizabeth ventured no further than the parlor door.
“I am rather tired, Charlotte, but Atoka was beautiful, I suppose.”
“Did you get into any trouble?” Maria asked with a mischievous smile.
Her friend paused, but quickly regained her wit.
“I can assure you, Maria, that unlike Lady Catherine’s, my pocketbook did not suffer due to my voyage,” Elizabeth replied, laughing as she went up to her room. It was necessary to laugh, when she would have rather cried.
Chapter 5:
That night, after Elizabeth had brushed her hair, she sat before her mirror fiddling with the new, unfamiliar ring which encircled her finger. Mrs. Darcy. How peculiar that sounded! She thought of a certain gentleman who was no doubt retiring to rest at Rosings, and wondered if he would sleep soundly. She certainly would not.
Recalling his request and the letter, she fetched it from her gown’s pocket and fingered the crest which was impressed upon it. What on earth could Mr. Darcy have written to his sister that was so important for her to know? With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and read.
My dearest little sister,
I was delighted to receive your letter of the third. Allow me to congratulate you on mastering another piece of music. I cannot wait to hear you play it the next time I am in Town with you, which I hope will not be long in the future.
However, the rest of your letter troubled me. Georgie, why do you still insist upon apologizing for what happened in Ramsgate last summer? You take too much upon yourself. Little one, as Richard and I have told you many times, there is no way you could have known what a cheat Wickham is. When he followed you to Ramsgate and proposed the elopement, you were ignorant of the quarrel between him and myself. You being then fifteen and consumed with your studies, I saw no reason to tell you of how he had asked, and received, three thousand pounds instead of the living, and then, after spending the money on vice and dissipation, demanded the living again. Nor did I consider confiding in you of his character, for as you now know, his life is consumed with activities which are not mentioned among respectable men, let alone young ladies. Furthermore, through all of this you had Mrs. Younge, your companion but his accomplice, goading you to accept his declarations and proposals. For the last time, my Georgiana, I do not blame you for what occurred and entreat you to stop castigating yourself for it. It pains me that after these many months, so unrespectable a man and his actions still govern your mind. The fault was entirely Mr. Wickham’s and Mrs. Younge’s, not yours. And anyhow, dear sister, when I happened upon you a day or two before the intended elopement, you confessed the whole to me at once. That took true courage, and for that I am forever proud of you.
But let me now turn to happier thoughts. You might remember that in my letters from Netherfield Park last autumn and during our winter in Town I often mentioned a young lady by the name of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Upon my arrival at Rosings, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Miss Elizabeth was visiting at Mr. Collins’ parsonage, being a particular friend of Mrs. Collins.
She has not lost one ounce of her wit or sparkle. I wish you could have heard her making mincemeat of our aunt’s interrogations and sometimes even questioning her advice! I found that I was standing at the window more and more often, not to conceal my displeasure, but because I feared catching sight of Lady Catherine’s confused countenance and bursting into uncharacteristic laughter.
Miss Elizabeth’s playing on the pianoforte has only improved since the last time I heard it, and I can tell you, Georgie, that the sound of her singing voice echoing through Rosings’ parlor is more pleasant than that of the larks which often sit on your windowsill at Pemberley.
Now, my little girl, I do not know how much you have deduced by yourself. Indeed, as close as we are, I am certain that you know that I have never before been impressed by a woman, and that I have never spoken of any other lady as I spoke of Miss Elizabeth. But in case it is not yet perfectly clear to you, allow me to tell you the whole truth: I ardently admire and love Elizabeth Bennet!
I can guess what you are thinking, so I will answer your burning question without holding you in further suspense. Yes, Georgiana, I am planning to make an offer to her. You shall have a sister. I am only sorry that you did not have one sooner.
I must confess that while my attachment to Miss Elizabeth has been of some duration, I have hesitated in taking this important step. For, while the lady herself is perfectly lovely, her connections and certain members of her family do leave something to be desired. However, I am done with struggling in vain. I am irrevocably in love, and it would be sheer foolishness to suffer Elizabeth’s absence for the rest of my days because her mother is a bit more outspoken than necessary. Come to think of it, Mrs. Bennet’s character does not differ much from our aunt’s, except Lady Catherine declares her ideas in a more stately manner and has the convenience of employing subordinates who will wait on her and listen to her pronouncements.
I can scarcely recognize myself, Georgiana. It is extraordinary how love can change a man, how blessed the most mundane moments become when one is in the presence of their beloved. I can wish you no greater happiness than the one which I feel in the proximity of my Elizabeth. You, and all of London, I daresay, are aware of my dislike of dancing. And yet, each night for a week now, my dreams have consisted of being on the floor with Elizabeth, the air filled with music which never ceases playing, and having those beautiful, deep eyes of hers’ fixed smilingly upon me for the duration of our eternal dance. I love her laughter, her intellect, her wit, her smiles, her chestnut curls which frame that beautiful face so well.
I must close now, sister. I am writing this letter from Atoka, whither I have slipped away from our aunt’s curious nature, and I must start finding my way back to Rosings presently. When I have spoken to Elizabeth, I will write with further particulars. God bless you and keep you, my little dear, until we meet again.
Your brother,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth, upon her perusal of this missive, felt extremely grateful that she was sitting down. She was quite certain that had she been standing, her legs would have given way.
The first shock was the new, shocking information which the letter betrayed about Wickham. The favorite of Hertfordshire had attempted a dishonorable elopement with a fifteen year old girl? He was sunk into sinful habits? She tried to dismiss it as the grossest falsehood, but the consideration was soon checked by the fact that Mr. Darcy would have no purpose in privately corresponding about a near-elopement with his sister if it had never taken place. Soon afterwards, she recollected Mr. Wickham’s expressions and communications that first evening at Mrs. Philips’, and realized, to her further horror, how forward and inconsistent with his conduct they had been. Her head aching and spinning, she was forced to clear Mr. Darcy of wrongdoing, and to place the entire blame upon Mr. Wickham’s shoulders.
But the greater consternation, by far, was Mr. Darcy’s passionate confession of love. He loved her chestnut curls, her singing, her intellect, her wit? How had that come about? Was not it just a few short months ago that he had thought her barely tolerable? She had mistaken him, once again. His silence was not of anger or disgust, but of deep attention. His looks were not of disapproval; they were of ardent admiration. Charlotte had been right. Oh, why had she not listened?
Elizabeth recalled Mr. Darcy’s entire attitude in Atoka earlier that day. He had not protested the marriage once, as she had fully expected him to do. Instead, he had only expressed remorse that their families could not be present. She had thought his compliance quite puzzling, but if he had planned to make an offer to her anyway then the day’s events did nothing but bring his plan to fruition faster.
Elizabeth lay down on her bed, not bothering to extinguish the candles, knowing that sleep would not come. Instead, she stared at the ceiling for hours as she reflected. Her new husband was not possessed of irreligious or unjust habits; he was a devoted and affectionate brother, an intelligent man, and he loved her. She could not but help feel flattered that he appreciated her wit and her mind. He might be proud, but so was she- after all, was not all her umbrage at him the result of his wounding her pride at the Meryton Assembly? Again and again she thanked God that she had managed to find out the truth about Wickham and Mr. Darcy’s character without offending her husband by broaching the subject to him. Perhaps, with his love and her newfound knowledge, they might not be miserable together.
Chapter 6:
About three in the morning, she began to pack her clothes into a small satchel and write a letter to Charlotte explaining the situation and begging her to send the rest of her belongings to Longbourn. She bathed her face, put on a fresh gown, and brushed her hair. She managed to conclude these activities as the sun rose above the horizon.
Ascertaining that her room was tidy and the letter left in plain sight, Elizabeth crept downstairs, satchel in hand. Going out through a side door, she carefully unlatched the bolt, praying that no one would hear and question her departure. Once outside, she ran quietly in the direction of the grove Mr. Darcy specified the evening before.
When she had almost reached it, she slowed down to a walk. Her footsteps fell softly, and thus she managed to enter the grove without its other occupant noticing her arrival. Her husband, attired in an expensive overcoat, was pacing back and forth at the far end of the grove, deep in contemplation. Behind him, a waiting carriage was visible through the rather thick bushes and trees.
Elizabeth paused, and observed the man with whom she had pledge to spend her life. Her mind wiped clean of all her prejudices, she gazed at him in the manner she had looked upon him that evening at the Meryton Assembly before he had made that ill-fated remark. He was the most handsome man of her acquaintance, that was certain. He bore himself with remarkable dignity, but- how had it escaped her before?- there was no vanity in his noble stature. Pride was present, yes, but it was well-tempered that morning by the concern which was written all over his countenance.
She slowly came forward to meet him. At her approaching footsteps, he started, and looking up, caught her eye. Mrs. Darcy stopped instinctively, looking back at him. She noticed that his gaze was apprehensive, as if he were uncertain of her feelings and how to proceed.
“Good morning,” he finally said, inspecting her face anxiously.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. He had hereto been kind and lenient to her, and she longed to repay him.
“Good morning…Fitzwilliam,” she answered in a low voice.
At the unexpected sound of his Christian name from his beloved’s lips the strained look on Mr. Darcy’s face was washed away by an expression of heartfelt delight. Doffing his characteristic reserve, he quickly closed the distance between himself and his bride, took and pressed the gloved hand which she held out to him.
“Oh, my darling!” he murmured, placing her hand on his coat, close to his heart. His wife blushed fiercely and could scarcely bring herself to meet his eye. They stood thusly for some moments, before he pressed her hand gently again and designed to ask,
“Did you read the letter?”
Elizabeth nodded, her ashamed eyes seeking the ground.
“I did, and I am afraid that I must apologize for my outburst yesterday. I did not have the least idea that you held me in such high regard.”
Her husband shook his head.
“No, the fault was entirely mine. I should have courted you properly long ago.”
“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame considering the previous months’ events,” Elizabeth said, a small smile hovering about her lips at the pleasure of hearing the proud Mr. Darcy admit wrongdoing and begging pardon. “The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable. Shall we declare a truce on the matter?”
“Of course, my dearest,” Darcy replied, giving her another smile and placing her hand on his arm. “I am a fortunate man indeed, to have such an understanding wife.”
Elizabeth laughed as they left the grove and walked to the carriage. While she said nothing, she was equally grateful for having such a patient husband.
Chapter 7:
When they had reached it, Mr. Darcy called out,
“Tom, Andrew, John!”
The coachman and both footman turned towards the sound of their employer’s voice and looked at him and at the lady he was escorting.
“I know that it is a bit unexpected, but I would like to present my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. From now on, her orders are to have the same weight with you as mine.”
Elizabeth thought that the poor driver would lose consciousness from shock and tumble from his precarious, perched position. The footmen, on the other hand, seemed to be expending quite a lot of effort to keep their mouths from dropping open. But she had to admire their training, for in a few seconds their faces settled back into their customary respectful positions as they wholeheartedly voiced their congratulations.
Darcy nodded, and smiling handed her into the richly ornamented and spacious carriage. Elizabeth marveled at its interior. The worldly weight of her new position suddenly descended on her, and while she was not a materialistic woman, she could not help feeling the honor of being such prosperous gentleman’s wife, especially considering her humble roots.
The bridegroom got in beside her, and the conveyance began to move. As they drove along, Elizabeth lowered the window glass and took off her gloves and bonnet.
“It is quite a warm day for April, is it not, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, putting away her doffed accessories.
“Quite,” he replied. But his tone was absentminded, and when she turned towards him, she noticed that he was scrutinizing her face.
“I can see that, like myself, you did not sleep last night,” he remarked. “Are you not tired, Elizabeth?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose I am becoming a little drowsy,” she admitted. “But I do not regret my sleepless night; I spent the time in productive reflection.”
“You should try to rest a little during the journey, my love. We have a half-day’s journey before we reach Longbourn, and it would not do to appear exhausted in front of your family.”
“It would certainly not cast a favorable light on you, Fitzwilliam, if, a mere twenty-four hours after marrying me, you brought me home in a most wearied and ill condition!”
Darcy forced himself to look amused at her humor, but the sheer idea of seeing his precious treasure in anything but the best of health was enough to grieve him. Determined to avoid any such occurrence he pleaded,
“Elizabeth, please sleep now. I will wake you when we enter Hertfordshire.”
“I think I will do what I promised at the altar yesterday and obey you, husband, in this matter at least,” the lady replied as she tried to settle into a comfortable position for a doze. Her dilemma was presently alleviated, for the bridegroom slid closer to her, and with one arm, drew her into a most tender embrace. He adjusted his shoulder so that it would be a convenient resting place, and settled her head down upon it. Cradling her gently, he pressed several kisses upon her dark locks. Elizabeth felt her eyelids growing heavy and she soon closed them, secure in the knowledge that she would be held in that protective, cherished clasp until they arrived at Longbourn.