J Croft - Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

The boy brightened immediately and happily launched into alarmingly detailed descriptions of the dead mouse Cato had proudly presented to their visiting minister and the impressive furball the kitten had hacked up for Mary’s genteel school friends. Robert then gave an account of the time the little cat had jumped onto their dining room table, in the middle of the second course, the evening surly Sir Lee King was a dinner guest. The poppet was about to give an account of what happened when Lizzy’s former roommates from St. Trinnean’s Seminary for Young Ladies visited recently when Mr. Bennet interjected, “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.” 

The two mothers of the three brides had been chatting about their yearning for grandchildren, as mothers of a certain age often do, and had totally missed Robert’s eloquent elucidation. “Lady Anne, do you suppose by this time next year one of us might be a grandmother?” 

“Yes, I do hope to hear the pitter-patter of little feet again before long. But, Mrs. Bennet, we are practically family now. So, if you please, Anne will do just fine.” 

“Thank you. My name is Frances, but I prefer to be called Franny or Fanny. Actually, I wish for someone to call me Grandmama. Oh, that would sound very sweet, would it not, Lady Anne?” 

“My dear Fanny, I have asked you to drop my title. Please, just refer to me as Anne.” 

“Thank you. I am honoured. In fact, I will be so proud tomorrow that I shall practically be made of honour. Tell me, Anne, are you bringing extra handkerchiefs? I am sure I shall shed more than a few tears of happiness.” 

From across the table and several seats down Mr. Bennet remarked, “Yes, my dear, it will most assuredly be a day for plenty of eye dew, although I believe the correct response is ‘I will.’” 

His wife sighed and looked heavenward. “You see what I have had to endure these many long years? All the same, I cannot complain, as there has been much more laughter than tears. Follies and nonsense, whims, and inconsistencies do divert me, I own; and I laugh at them whenever I can. Nevertheless, I know I shall certainly weep at the ceremony. Oh Anne, we are both losing two very dear children on the morrow.” 

“Not at all, Fanny. You must look upon the event as gaining two sons. The Darcy family will definitely benefit from the additions of Ellis and your lovely Elizabeth. Goodness, I now feel very foolish about losing consciousness the night of the ball. Elizabeth and Jane are exquisite young women, and you have done a superb job rearing your charming family.” Lady Anne smiled fondly at the little boy at Mrs. Bennet’s side. 

Robert struggled with his fork, knife, and some rather recalcitrant peas while he listened to his mother’s conversation. “Mama, what is conshush-nuss?” 

Before Mrs. Bennet could open her mouth to reply, from across the table Lady Catherine de Bourgh responded, “Consciousness, my dear little bug, is that annoying period between one’s doses of medicinal sherry.” 

Fanny Bennet beamed with pride that her son, for once, had not been the one to come out with something rather inappropriate. She was, however, sympathetic to her friend’s mortified look. 

“Never mind, Anne. Your sister is obviously your own family’s joker and is jest having fun with her-elations. Oh, dear! I assure you I am not usually one for wordplay, but lately I cannot seem to help myself. My puns may be sleep-inducing, but I keep laudanum anyway.”

When Lady Anne indicated it was time for the ladies to remove to the drawing room, her son also excused himself from the table and the men’s company. Fitzwilliam Darcy had had quite enough deprivation for one day and was determined to steal away with his fiancée for a few moments. His long strides easily caught up with her in the hall before she entered the room with the women. Mrs. Bennet was on her way upstairs to tuck in her children before she went to the drawing room; and although she glimpsed the couple in the hallway, she turned a blind eye to whatever the two had planned for their final night of bachelorhood and maidenhood. Darcy, drawing near, said to his bride, “Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of taking a walk with your husband-to-be?” She smiled but made no answer; and he repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence. 

“Oh,” said she, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. Yes, Mr. Darcy, I would very much like to seize … whatever it was you wanted me to seize.” 

Good God! Darcy looked at her face and tried to determine if she was brazen or absent-minded, but he could not read her expression. You are not the only one affected, Lizzy. This time tomorrow night I will be your husband, and you will finally be … my wife! I am, as Mother described, beside myself. “Please seize my arm then, Miss Elizabeth, and accompany me to the shrubbery.” 

Pelisse, greatcoat, gloves, and hats were donned; and they headed for the garden. As they strolled along the path, Darcy said, “Thank you once again, my dear, for agreeing to hold the ceremony here. It means a great deal to my family and me to be away from the prying eyes of society. Had we married in London from the Fitzwilliam and Darcy parish church near Mayfair, St. George’s would have been packed with curious members of the ton; and our special day would have been more of a circus than Astley’s Amphitheatre.” 

“I cannot imagine a more lovely location for our wedding, sir.” 

Darcy smiled with delight and asked, “So, what think you of Pemberley at this time of year, Elizabeth?” 

“Your estate is equally impressive inside and outside, as is Pemberley’s heir. It is certainly as handsome as I remember, Fitzwilliam, but perhaps not as green as during summer. And there is not now that close, hot, heavy, sultry, damp, clinging feeling I recall being present previously.” 

“You will never allow me to live that down, will you, minx? But come closer, my darling, and discover just how steamy conditions can be in Derbyshire even during late autumn.” 

That evening the shades of Pemberley were very useful, not for shelter from the sun but for providing cover from prying eyes. After the embrace and kiss that did much to both slake and increase their hunger and thirst for one another, the gentleman hesitantly said, “Elizabeth, I could not help but notice your unease earlier this afternoon. Are you nervous about the ceremony, the celebration, or perchance apprehensive about our wedding night?” 

“I admit I am, or was. Yet every moment spent with you finds me less and less worried and more … impatient.” 

“Lizzy, tomorrow our vows will be made official. Even so, please allow me now to assure you I will always love, comfort, honour, and cherish you. And I will forever be faithful.” 

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. And I believe you should seal such a fervent commitment with a fervent kiss.” Most of Elizabeth Bennet’s anxieties were soon vanquished and vanished. She thought the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to be nervous or apprehensive on the eve of her wedding. As the engaged couple disengaged and strolled back to the house, she said, “It was very considerate of you, sir, to provide fireworks again for my first night at Pemberley. That kiss was another truly extraordinarily breathtaking experience, was it not?” 

For his part, Darcy looked forward to the following night’s extraordinarily breathtaking experience. Like watching fireworks, he had high hopes for interesting shapes, lots of surprises, and banging. An uplifting display could be quite stimulating, but he worried about short fuses and explosive bursts. Good God, I must return to the house before I combust! 

“Fitzwilliam? Do you not agree, sir?” When he made no answer, she repeated the question, with some surprise at his silence. 

“Oh,” said he, “I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. I fear my wit has abandoned me this evening, and I am as giddy as a schoolgirl. But yes, my love, I quite agree with whatever it was you said.” 

The night before the wedding, the gentlemen deprived themselves of the pleasure of the ladies’ company by secreting themselves away in the library to imbibe and play cards. Nevertheless, giggles, shrieks of laughter, and squeals of delight from the drawing room still occasionally reached their ears and disturbed their concentration.

“Whatever can they be discussing with such hilarity?” Ellis Fleming distractedly sorted through the cards he had been dealt and took a sip of his drink. The young man was still quite in awe of his future father-in-law and formidable uncle-in-law, the Earl of Matlock. Outward calm disguised Fleming’s case of nerves, and a third helpful snifter of excellent brandy increasingly caused a shift from tension to a feeling of euphoria.

“No doubt love, romance, and all things gooshy, as my son, Robert, would say,” Mr. Bennet replied and flicked a card onto the table. “I assure you, gentlemen, any hearts and diamonds being talked of in that other room bear little resemblance whatsoever to the ones being played here. Your turn, Mr. Bingley.”