Mary Simonsen - A Wife for Mr Darcy

“My goodness! That was fast!”

“Indeed! While Mr. Darcy was doing everything he could to ensure that Miss Montford might be spared any embarrassment, her father was making arrangements for her to become engaged to Mr. Wiggins. It seems that Mr. Wiggins Sr. is very rich and very ill, and when he dies, Jasper will get it all. With so much money at stake, Sir John thought he needed to move quickly. Once Mr. Darcy heard about the engagement, he thought, if she is not waiting, then I am not waiting. After purchasing a special license, he rushed back here to ask me to agree to move up the wedding date and to speak to Papa.”

“Well, this cannot come as a total surprise to you. You have often said that Mr. Darcy is a man who likes to have his way.”

“Yes, he does. But this time, I am in complete agreement,” and Lizzy smiled at the memory of Mr. Darcy’s proposal. “You would think that with the wedding on Friday that I would be in a tizzy—running around like a chicken with its head cut off. But there is little for me to do. You have provided the dress. Mama is to arrange for the food. News of the wedding is being relayed in town and on the farms by John and Adam. I have written to Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and Charlotte, although I doubt she will be able to come on such short notice. All that is left for me to do is to pack up everything I will be taking to Pemberley. So here I sit, waiting for Mrs. Lyle,” she said, folding her hands and twiddling her thumbs.

“So tell me,” Lizzy said, changing the subject, “what have you been doing at Netherfield Park, other than trying to get out of the way of an abundance of Bingleys?”

“If you are asking about last night, it was the wedding night redux,” and Lizzy raised her eyebrows. Jane had been married two days, and she and Charles had made love six times. “Apparently, this activity has now become Charles’s favorite thing,” Jane said, laughing. “However, tonight, I am going to ask if I may sleep through the night. He falls back to sleep right away, while I lie there awake. But he will agree to anything I ask.”

“I know this is a very personal question, but does Charles undress you?” “Good grief, Lizzy! Certainly not. I am in bed and under the covers when he comes in. What made you ask such a question?”

“Because I do not know what to expect. I have been thinking about the man I was to marry since I was thirteen, but I never went past the wedding.”

“Well, you certainly have a vivid imagination. Such a thing would never have occurred to me.”

But it would have occurred to you, Lizzy thought, if you had read Mr. Darcy’s letter.

“For me, the best part is afterward when I lie in Charles’s arms, and we speak of our future together. And, Lizzy, you will have the same thing. Mr. Darcy is so in love with you that he will want to make you happy in all things.”

She just wished she knew what “all things” included. 

On the eve of their wedding, Mr. Darcy sent his carriage to Longbourn for Lizzy with a note saying that all of the Bingleys had departed, including Mrs. Crenshaw, and it was safe to come to Netherfield. Lizzy thought it an excellent idea as her mother was driving her to distraction. All during her fitting, Mama had been buzzing around Mrs. Lyle making suggestions regarding the lace trim and rosettes that were being added to the hem and sleeves of the gown. After that, she went downstairs to check on Mrs. Hill’s progress with the preparations for the next day’s reception. From there she visited her three youngest daughters to make sure they had chosen their best frocks. Although Mr. Bennet had informed her several times that he was not in need of such information, Mrs. Bennet stopped by to give her husband an update on all that was going on.

“Mrs. Bennet, I am only interested in what is required of me. I am to give Lizzy away, and then I am to get out of the way.”

Georgiana greeted Lizzy as soon as she stepped into the foyer. Taking Lizzy by the hand, she led her to the drawing room and to a lady unknown to her. The visitor was sitting in the chair closest to the fire, her legs covered by a quilt, and with an exquisite black shawl decorated with red roses draping her shoulders. She had a complexion so fair that it was almost translucent, and her finely carved features and sky-blue eyes were framed by coal-black hair. Although she looked as frail as a China doll and kept a handkerchief in her lap to hide her coughs, she gave the impression of being someone who was made of sterner stuff.

“Elizabeth, I want you to meet my dear cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh.”

“Miss Elizabeth, I am so pleased to meet you in person. I have heard so much about you from Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lord Fitzwilliam and from letters sent to me by Georgiana. Even Will, who is a terrible correspondent, wrote extensively of your attributes, and I can see that his praise of your beauty was not exaggerated.”

Lizzy was deeply touched. Miss de Bourgh loved her cousin so much that she had left her warm hearth at Rosings Park to travel in very cold weather to see him married.

“Elizabeth, you see we have another guest,” Darcy said as he entered the room. “Once I realized that there was a possibility that we might marry sooner than expected, I wrote to Colonel Fitzwilliam, asking that he bring Anne to London. In this way, the people dearest to me will be witnesses to the happiest day of my life.”

Lizzy did not know if it was a combination of the strain of waiting for each other for all those months or the fact that this man of few words had said such a beautiful thing, but tears came to her eyes.

“Miss Elizabeth, it is not too late to change your mind,” the colonel said. “It seems every time you and Darcy are together, he reduces you to tears.”

“It is a small price to pay for such company,” Lizzy said, dabbing her eyes with Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief.

“Richard, have you thought that it might be you who distresses Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, and everyone laughed.

Anne motioned for Lizzy to come and sit beside her on the sofa. “Lord Fitzwilliam sends his love and regrets, but he has decided to stay at Rosings Park to amuse my mother, and his presence makes my absence possible. My mother does not yet know of your marriage, and when she does, she will shout and carry on and threaten. But someone in every generation needs to shake things up, and this time, it will be Will. In my mother’s generation, it was a Fitzwilliam marrying a de Bourgh. Mama will tell you that the first Lord de Bourgh made his money in the importation of fine wines and spirits. Not so delicately put, he was a smuggler. But she chooses to forget that part of our history.”

“Miss Elizabeth, when you go to Rosings Park,” Richard said, “and eventually you will go to Rosings Park because my aunt requires an audience for her orations and she will miss Darcy, Anne will sit quietly next to Mrs. Jenkinson, her companion, and say nothing. But appearances can be deceiving. On more than one occasion Anne has gotten the better of her mother.”

“No more about my mother,” Anne said, interrupting. “I have come to Hertfordshire to visit with old friends and to make new ones. And before I forget, Miss Elizabeth, I visited with Mrs. Collins before leaving for London, and she sends her congratulations. She was not at all surprised to learn of your engagement. It seems my cousin was unable to hide his feelings for you. However, Mr. Collins does not know of the happy event, and Mrs. Collins said that it is best that she tell him at a time of her choosing.”

It was a most engaging evening because it was apparent that the Fitzwilliam clan enjoyed each other’s company immensely. They told funny stories about their childhood, including running through Pemberley’s maze or staging plays at Rosings or fishing in Briarwood’s streams. It was nearly 9:00 when Lizzy reluctantly announced that she needed to go home.

Darcy rode with Lizzy to Longbourn and told her that they would break their journey at Wick Manor near Northampton. “It is a handsome manor house owned by the Haydon family, but since they are all in town for Christmas, Rupert Haydon said that I should make myself at home, but we will stay only the one night.” As the carriage turned into the drive, he asked her if she had read his second letter.

“No. I told you that I would not.”

After looking at her with a suspicious eye, he asked again, “Elizabeth, did you read my second letter?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “You may ask as many times as you wish; my answer will remain the same.”

“Well, then it is pointless to ask again. But it was not a fruitless exercise because now I know that if you ever tell me an untruth, I shall know it. You are terrible at deception.” He took her hand and kissed it, but made no attempt to do more. “Tonight, I am on my best behavior, but it is the last night that I shall be.”

After visiting with her mother to learn the present state of affairs regarding the reception, Lizzy hurried to her room and got the chest from under her bed, and after climbing back under the covers, she read the now familiar words:

My dearest Elizabeth,

Even the thankfully few days that remain before our wedding are too many. I do not sleep for thinking of you, imagining you in my arms and in our bed. If you knew my deepest wishes, indeed, if my actions at Netherfield dismayed you, my thoughts would alarm you. But, Elizabeth, how can I stop? Until I met you, I prided myself in having control over the baser instincts that govern most men. Now I find that I cannot control where my imagination roams, and it roams over the delights of your body. The night we wed I will sweep you off your feet and carry you to our bedroom. You will stand before me, and I will undress you. And as my lips find yours, our passion will rise together. A month ago, I wanted you. A week ago, I yearned. Now my only thought is to know you, all of you. Can I make it any clearer? I want you immediately, entirely, completely, irrevocably, so that you will be mine forever.