Elizabeth drew comfort from his closeness. “I hope you are correct. I will have to trust you in this, since I am not acquainted with either lady, but I cannot undervalue my own cousin’s vindictive determination to expose us to censure and scorn. I believe, sir, where your aunt is concerned, Mr. Collins can be faithfully relied upon to do nothing by halves.”
“We need not concern ourselves with Mr. Collins today. I doubt the weather will show any sign of improvement before nightfall; therefore, you may consider him every bit as stranded at Lucas Lodge as we are here at Netherfield. No word will reach my aunt for several days at least, and by then I will have obtained the license and made the proper arrangements. All will be well, my love. Until then, let us talk of more pleasant things.” Darcy gave Elizabeth a warm look full of love and longing, which she could not but return with equal sincerity, and they did, indeed, proceed to engage their mouths in far more pleasant musings, though no conversation could be discerned by anyone happening to file out of the breakfast parlor.
Darcy had been correct in one particular aspect—the storm did not abate, and by the close of the evening, Jane and Elizabeth found themselves required to extend their stay at Netherfield one more night, much to the delight of Bingley and Darcy. All four lovers had to admit, however, their daytime activities would have been passed in a far more agreeable manner had Bingley’s sister, Caroline, been stranded at his brother-in-law’s house in Town rather than at Netherfield with them.
After experiencing countless days of continued frustration in which Miss Bingley could no longer ignore the fact that Darcy, much like her brother, now all but lived at Longbourn—as well as all the disturbing implications to be associated with such marked attentions—she had begun to grow agitated and distressed. Since witnessing Darcy’s scandalous behavior toward Elizabeth at the ball, she had longed for an opportunity to be alone with the master of Pemberley without the overt interference of Elizabeth Bennet. When Darcy and her brother opted to spend the previous day at home rather than travel to Longbourn, Miss Bingley had believed providence had finally granted her just such an opportunity, but her hopes were soon dashed by the arrival of the two eldest Miss Bennets.
Though she was well able to tolerate Jane’s society with some small degree of insincere civility, she had yet to master the art of extending such a courtesy to Elizabeth, and after having finally rid herself of one ailing Bennet not many weeks earlier, one could hardly have expected her to be anything less than incensed to learn of another—and her least favorite, at that—falling ill shortly after arriving at Netherfield. Her only consolation with such a repetition of history had come from the knowledge that even someone as reputedly impertinent as Elizabeth Bennet could hardly continue to influence Darcy with her charms from the confines of her guest chambers abovestairs. If she had only known how very wrong she was!
It was with great irritation that Miss Bingley forced herself to think back to the distasteful events of the previous day. Shortly after Elizabeth had retired to rest herself, Miss Bingley had sought out Darcy, eventually tracking him down in the library, where he appeared to be pacing in agitation, a worried frown creasing his countenance. Immediately, she imagined him to be worrying over Elizabeth, which vexed her to no end. Consumed by her jealousy and a poorly directed ill humor, Miss Bingley soon found herself making disparaging remarks at the expense of the second-eldest Miss Bennet, a terribly unwise tactic to use on Darcy at such a moment.
“I certainly hope, Mr. Darcy, you are not troubling yourself unnecessarily over the indisposition of Elizabeth Bennet”—she smiled—“for I daresay her fine eyes will not long suffer the ill effects of having traveled a mere three miles in a coach.”
Darcy pursed his lips, opting to say nothing in response, concentrating his efforts, instead, on holding his temper in check.
Heartened, Miss Bingley sniffed disdainfully. “I, for one, cannot see that it could possibly be anything of a serious nature. Elizabeth has always been of a healthy, robust constitution, not at all out of the common way for others in her station, mind you. Certainly, these country people have been bred to withstand such trifles as colds and indisposition. Of course, I would not be surprised in the least to hear she is not ill at all, but merely acting the part, no doubt to further ingratiate herself with my generous brother. Poor, naïve Charles! As if being taken in by the likes of Jane Bennet has not been punishment enough for all of us.”
Though Darcy was obviously seething with anger by this time, Miss Bingley somehow managed to misinterpret his dangerous look, going so far as to lay her hand upon his arm in a rather forward manner as she cooed, “Mr. Darcy, allow me to give you some friendly, heartfelt advice, for it has been my experience, sir, that a wealthy gentleman such as yourself, who is sought after by every manner of society, can never be too careful when thrown into company with such scheming, mercenary people as one is sure to find in this part of the country.”
Darcy fixed her with an icy look and said coldly, “No more so than one often finds in Town, as well, I daresay. Would you not agree?”
Miss Bingley felt the slight but was too stunned to credit it. Her smile faltered, however, and Darcy continued in the same vein. “Though I cannot pretend to be so presumptuous as to speak for your brother, Miss Bingley, in the future I would thank you not to speak ill of Miss Elizabeth Bennet or her family in my presence. I find it to be most offensive and ill-bred, and as I have just become engaged to be married to Miss Elizabeth, I am sure you can understand how I could very easily come to interpret such ill-mannered criticism of my future wife as a personal slight to me, as well.”
Miss Bingley could only gape at him in outraged astonishment, to say nothing of her undisguised horror. With a small but satisfied smirk, Darcy firmly muttered, “Good day, Miss Bingley,” and removed himself from her company, leaving his friend’s sister quite alone to contemplate those of her actions that had succeeded in causing trouble and misery for no one but her.
On their second night together, though in a different room, as Bingley was certainly not of a mind to allow his friend the luxury of having his bedchamber adjoin with that of his betrothed for a second night, and well past the hour when the other occupants of the house had retired for the evening, Darcy lay in Elizabeth’s bed. His body curled around hers from behind as he stroked the soft skin of her arm with his fingertips, their clothing long since discarded upon the carpet in front of the fire.
“I have been thinking, my love…” he began tentatively.
“Of what, my dearest?”
“Of what will happen when I remove to Town to obtain the license. I will have to be gone for several days at least, as I also have some business I should probably attend to with my steward once I am there, and then there is Georgiana. I really ought to spend some time with my sister.”
Elizabeth rolled away from him and propped herself up on one elbow so she could search his troubled eyes. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Fitzwilliam?” she asked, her concern evident in her voice.
“Come with me, Elizabeth. We can be married in London almost immediately, and then we shall not have to part again. You will be my wife; nothing will bring me more joy than to have you with me every day for the rest of my life.”