“What do you mean, go without? Go without? I should say not! Where is this cook of yours, Mr. Darcy? I daresay I shall set her to rights before long! No fish for my own daughter’s wedding breakfast, indeed!” She turned to Elizabeth, who had to struggle to keep her composure. “Lizzy, you shall just have to do without me, I am afraid, for I am needed immediately to organize the wedding breakfast. I cannot be bothered with these other trivialities just now,” she said as she waved her handkerchief at her daughter. “Your gown is lovely, and I am sure your maid shall do an excellent job with your hair, child. You need not worry yourself over a thing, especially now that Mr. Darcy has seen fit to consult me on the business of the breakfast. Sir, you were very right to come to me.”
That having been said, she ran ahead of Mrs. Hildebrandt to find the cook. The housekeeper looked back at her master, casting him a look of some trepidation, to which he only nodded. Elizabeth looked to Darcy with a raised brow, barely able to contain her amusement, and Darcy returned her look with a dazzling smile. Raising her hand to his lips, he bowed to her and quitted the room, leaving the ladies to continue their plans and preparations unencumbered.
It was not until much later in the evening that Elizabeth had finally found an opportunity to speak with Darcy alone, for, though she and her sisters had not been forced to bear her mother’s excessive raptures or disapprobation throughout the course of the afternoon, she had discovered the same could not be said for Darcy.
She found him in his study, with a cup of hot tea and some biscuits, reading over some matters of estate business that he had put off to attend Mrs. Bennet. Darcy rang for a servant to bring another cup, and Elizabeth happily joined him.
With an arch smile, she said, “Though I had no doubt you were speaking the truth when you once said you would do anything in your power to ensure my happiness, sir, I confess I had not completely comprehended the lengths to which you were willing to go in order to secure it. I believe I am indebted to you, Fitzwilliam, for your selfless act earlier this afternoon.”
Darcy, who was in the midst of raising his cup to his lips, returned her smile. “Yes, I believe you are, my dearest.”
“So, did you enjoy your afternoon?” she asked.
Darcy laughed. “Let us just say it was an experience I am not particularly eager to repeat any time soon. I confess I had no idea fish, meats, cakes, breads, flowers, table linens, china, and whatever other details with which your mother saw fit to torture me were of such import to becoming your husband, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “Was she very awful, then?”
“No. She was not awful. It was the endless list of details and frippery that exhausted me to no end. I believe that in all the time I have known her, I have never once seen your mother expend her efforts beyond the pursuit of eligible husbands, the gleaning of gossip, and shopping. I must say, however, when redirected to another purpose entirely, she is quite a force to behold. She is determined you shall have nothing but perfection on your wedding day, Elizabeth. I was moved by her devotion to you. It is obvious your mother cares a great deal for your happiness.”
Elizabeth smiled, pleasantly surprised he would have made such an observation of her mother. “Indeed, Mama is devoted to all of us in her own unique way; however, I suspect her taking such a tremendous interest now in me has occurred only to such an extent because I am to marry you. Though I know she does love me dearly, I have never been a favorite of my mother. That is an honor that Jane and Lydia must divide between them, and I might add, one that I have always been perfectly content to forego.”
“Does that not trouble you, though?” he asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not at all. I have always had an excellent relationship with my father, which has more than made up for any disinterest on my mother’s part. He and I are far better suited, both in disposition and in taste. I suspect it has been harder on Kitty and Mary, though.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
Returning her cup to its saucer, Elizabeth inquired, “And what of your parents, Fitzwilliam? Were you closer to one more than the other?”
Darcy’s answer was immediate. “My mother. Like you and your father, we shared many things in common. We would while away many hours out-of-doors, walking the paths around Pemberley, talking of books, philosophy, music, art. In the evenings, she would play the pianoforte and sing for my father. She taught me how to play, as well, though I hardly ever do now and never in company. She had a beautiful singing voice, not unlike your own. In many ways you remind me of her, Elizabeth. She had your spirit, your zest for life, your talent for talking to others, your fervent devotion to those she loved. I know she would have loved you, as well.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “You must miss her very much.”
“I do. She died when I was but twelve. I was devastated, as was my father. Regrettably, Georgiana has no memory of her.”
“She must have passed away, then, when Georgiana was but a very small girl.”
Darcy looked away and swallowed. “When she was only a few days old,” he said softly. He got up and walked to the window, raking his hand through his hair, and then walked back to the desk. “Georgiana looked very much like my mother, and my father adored her, doted on her. He devoted many hours to her amusement and did all he could to encourage a bond between us, but for the first year of her life, I could hardly bear to do more than look upon her. I found it too painful. I blamed her for my mother’s death.”
“But you are both very close now,” she added.
“Yes. Yes, we are,” he murmured. “Not long after Georgiana had reached her second year, she fell ill with fever. She was not expected to live. Late one night, I went to the nursery where the doctor was tending her with my father. Her tiny body looked so frail and lifeless. It was then, while watching my father pray for the life of his only daughter—the daughter my mother had desired so much that she had been prepared to die for her—when I suddenly realized just how important my baby sister had become to me. At that moment I dropped to my knees and made a promise to God: If he allowed Georgiana to live, I would, from that day forward, be the elder brother she deserved. Regrettably, I have not always succeeded in keeping that promise.”
Elizabeth had no doubt Darcy was alluding to Ramsgate. Without a word, she reached out to him and took his hand. He gave hers a squeeze and then pulled her to her feet, touching his forehead to hers as he stroked the softness of her cheek. “Enough,” he said softly. “It was not my intention to burden you with my painful memories of the past. Tomorrow we are to be wed, and then we shall begin our life together, one that shall be built on nothing but our love and happiness. No sorrow, no pain, only joy from this moment forward.”
“You know, Fitzwilliam, that sounds suspiciously like my own philosophy. I heartily believe in thinking only of the past as its remembrance gives us pleasure.”
Darcy’s lips grazed her hair. “So it does.”
Elizabeth kissed him before laying her head against his chest and drawing his body closer. The soft thu-thump of his heart soothed her. “Then it is settled,” she sighed. “We shall be the happiest couple in the world.”
Darcy could hear the lightness in her tone and the conviction in her voice, and smiled.
“Ma’am?” Sonia’s voice roused Elizabeth from her bittersweet reverie. “Ma’am, forgive my intrusion, but you must make haste if we are to have you dressed and ready in only a few hours.”