“Well, I hope that Mr. Darcy will allow you to return to Longbourn when I am near my confinement,” Jane said with a catch in her voice.
“Oh, Jane, please. I would not miss the birth of Baby Bingley for anything. I shall be here. I promise.”
But Jane was now clearly unsettled. “Please forgive me, Lizzy, but there is something I must say, even at the risk of offending you. I have thought for some time that there is something unusual about Mr. Darcy. I cannot put my finger on it, but he has a tendency to stare. When he does, it is almost as if he knows what a person is thinking. The other night, just as I was about to ask Mr. Bingley to bring me a cup of tea, Mr. Darcy went and poured a cup for me, saying that he could tell that I was thirsty. Another time, he retrieved my fan because he knew that I was overly heated when I had said nothing about it. It was very kind of him, but I swear he sensed…”
“I understand why you have that impression,” Lizzy said, interrupting, “but contrary to what you think, Mr. Darcy is not staring at you but through you. I have mentioned this to him, and he is trying not to do it. But old habits are hard to break. I think part of the problem is that you are comparing Mr. Darcy’s quiet nature to that of Mr. Bingley’s more animated disposition, but one should not be criticized for being overly attentive to another’s needs.”
“You do understand that I only want what is best for you.” Jane began to cry, which was something she was doing quite frequently now that she was in her sixth month.
“Then your wish has been granted as I do have the best. Mr. Darcy and I are perfectly suited to each other. He loves me deeply, and when I am with him, there is no one happier than I am.” Lizzy stood up and offered her sister assistance in rising. “Now, you must return to Netherfield Park. Tomorrow is my wedding day, and you are my matron of honor. I want you well rested so that you will enjoy the wedding breakfast. I do believe that half the county is attending.”
“Only half?” Jane said, smiling, and she went in search of Charles just as Darcy came looking for Lizzy.
“If you are beginning to think about what you will need for our journey,” he whispered, “make sure you have your gloves, muff, boots, extra stockings…”
“Sir, you have told me what to expect, and I shall pack accordingly. You should really take your own advice and stop worrying. Since my mother has turned our wedding breakfast into a spectacle to rival a harvest festival, I plan to enjoy myself.”
By this time, Georgiana had come downstairs, accompanied by Kitty and Mary. The siblings had already received an invitation from Mr. Darcy’s sister to come to Pemberley in the spring. After nightfall, Lizzy said to herself, and she realized that every plan she made would have that contingency attached to it.
After seeing the Bingley carriage turn out of the drive, Lizzy pulled her shawl tightly around her and looked up into an obsidian sky punctured with a thousand points of light and a waxing moon poised over a distant wood. Although Mr. Darcy had told her that in time the rising of a full moon would not merit a second thought from her, she knew differently. The welfare of her husband and her family depended on her being acutely aware of the moon’s every phase.
Chapter 31
“Thank you, Mama,” Lizzy said as her mother tightened her stays, “but Jane and I have already had this conversation.” She could hardly believe that her mother had chosen the morning of her wedding day to have “the talk” with her daughter.
“But you might encounter a very different situation than Jane’s as Mr. Bingley is of a slight build when compared to Mr. Darcy, so…”
“Mama, at this point, there is nothing to be done, and I wish to enjoy my wedding day without thinking apprehensively about my wedding night.” Lizzy gave a silent prayer of thanks when Kitty arrived and handed their mother a letter.
“Oh dear!” Mrs. Bennet said after briefly scanning its opening paragraph. “It is from Lydia. She will not be coming to the wedding after all, as there are no funds to pay for her coach fare. It is too bad that she did not write sooner as there is nothing to be done now.” She continued perusing the letter. “Oh, goodness me! There is more news. Lydia is to be a mother, and she expects to be delivered of her child in midsummer. How wonderful! I shall be a grandmother twice over in the new year.”
Lizzy made no comment. Her sister’s announcement that she was with child should have been joyfully received, but how could it be when it was coupled with the news that she did not have enough money to pay the coach fare to come to her sister’s wedding. As her father had so succinctly put it at the time of Lydia and Wickham’s marriage, “Lydia has married one of the most worthless men in Great Britain.” No good could come out of such a union, and the letter proved it.
But then Mrs. Bennet burst forth with the happy news that Lydia would shortly be coming home, as Mr. Wickham’s regiment was to go to fight in the Peninsular campaign. With Wickham gone, there was no point in Lydia remaining in Newcastle. Although her mother was happy that her youngest daughter would be coming back to Longbourn, Lydia’s sisters were not, not even Kitty, who had learned a lesson from her sister’s mistakes. Everyone understood that with Lydia’s arrival the house would be topsy-turvy once again. But this gray cloud did have a sliver of a silver lining for Lizzy: Mrs. Bennet had left the bedroom to share the good news with Mr. Bennet, and all discussion about Mr. Darcy’s size had come to an end.
Darcy had been up since dawn, and with Mercer gone to see to the arrangements for their journey, he had to dress himself, which was no hardship, except for the damn neckcloth, and he enlisted Bingley’s assistance in tying the knot.
“We are all fools to have that peacock, Beau Brummel, dictate fashion,” Darcy complained. “This thing around my neck is little different from the bows that Georgiana wore in her hair when she was a little girl. Why must it be so complicated?”
“Calm down, Darcy. You know that this has nothing to do with your neckwear. You are a nervous bridegroom, and there is no need to take your frustration out on poor Mr. Brummel.”
“You mock me, Bingley, and having been in my position, what, seven or eight months ago, you should be more sympathetic.”
“I do not recall being this nervous—certainly not about the ceremony. Perhaps you are looking past the festivities to your wedding night.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked anxiously. “What do you think will happen? Will it be unpleasant?”
“Not for you, it won’t.”
“Damn it, Bingley. I am not here for your amusement.”
Bingley found it difficult to suppress his laughter, but since his friend was in desperate need of calming, he told Darcy of his own wedding night, including the darkened room, Jane with the covers up to her nose, his wife lying in their bed as stiff as a board, and fumbling about in the dark.
“But, Darcy, you have to allow that it is a rather curious thing for a woman. Jane and I were not permitted to be alone at any time during our courtship, but on our wedding night, she is supposed to be comfortable disrobing in front of a man? Not likely. You will find that it takes patience and a great deal of talking about love.”
“I am finding this whole business of the terrors of the wedding night to be ridiculous. Why should a woman hide beneath the covers in trepidation of a physical act that has gone on since the time of Adam and Eve? It is a part of the natural order. Men and women were created so that they might reproduce. ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’ It is a Biblical injunction.”