Bingley took a long sip of port and sighed. “I cannot disagree with you, Darcy, and perhaps I should have first approached her father—especially considering the circumstances of late—but John Brewster is a very great friend. I have known him nearly half my life, and I can say with all honesty he is one of the most respectable gentlemen of my acquaintance. His intentions are honorable. He certainly will not take advantage of Miss Lydia.”
“No. Perhaps not, but what if they form an attachment? What if Lydia one day feels compelled to confide in him her ordeal with Wickham? Is he the type of man who might abandon her and destroy all her hopes after his honor has become engaged? I hate to admit it, but even the most honorable man would be a fool not to think twice before offering for her after hearing such a confession.”
Bingley stared at him. “You are behaving much like a mother hen trying to protect her chick, Darcy. They have danced only two dances together. I hardly think that constitutes an offer of marriage.”
“Yes, they danced two dances but spent the remainder of the night in conversation. Other than you, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Gardiner, and myself, Lydia danced not one single dance with any other gentleman—not that it would have been prudent, in any case, but you must remember how fond she is of dancing.” With a loud exhalation, he raked his hands through his hair and muttered, “Forgive me, Bingley, but I cannot like it. It makes me uneasy.”
Bingley chuckled. “I truly feel for you, my friend. You now find yourself in the unsavory position of caring for two very young, very impressionable, and very pretty ladies who, for all intents and purposes, are not yet out, and you are feeling the full weight of it.” With a grin, he raised his glass. “For the sake of your sanity, Darcy, I do sincerely hope Elizabeth will give you a son.”
Darcy closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Yes. I cannot but agree.”
The wedding the following day was all that was elegant and delightful. It came as no surprise that Jane, a very beautiful woman, made an equally beautiful bride. While Elizabeth’s wedding gown had been declared exquisite by all who had attended her wedding to Darcy, it was almost deceptively simple in comparison to Jane’s, which was much closer to what society had come to anticipate from the blushing bride of a gentleman of no insignificant means. Nearly every inch of Jane’s glorious silk gown was covered in imported Belgian lace, and though not quite to Elizabeth’s personal taste, the gown her dearest Jane had chosen—or, more appropriately, her mother—certainly succeeded in flattering the new Mrs. Bingley’s elegant figure, to which Mr. Bingley’s steadfast gazes and dreamy expressions were a constant testament.
The wedding breakfast was held at Netherfield, where the bride and groom were to spend their wedding night before leaving to tour some of England’s southern regions. Out of respect for the newly married couple, the many guests and relations who had arrived the day before and had spent the night—the Darcys included—soon made their farewells to the newlyweds and departed.
Mrs. Bennet was quite put out that Darcy would not consent to stay for a fortnight or two at Longbourn. She had been informed by her husband just that morning that Lydia was to travel to London with the Darcys and then on to Derbyshire, where she would remain for the next two months at least. Mrs. Bennet attempted to persuade her second-eldest daughter to use her influence with her husband, but to no avail. In fact, Elizabeth took great pleasure informing her mother that, in this particular instance, Darcy would not be swayed. He was anxious to return to his beloved Pemberley, where he had not set foot for the better part of a year. He was also looking forward to introducing Elizabeth to what was now her home, and extremely desirous of doing it before she could no longer be expected to make such an arduous trip. Assuming the weather was fit for travel, it would likely take them two or three days to reach Derbyshire, even from London. Darcy and Georgiana could barely contain their enthusiasm.
The Darcys and Lydia spent the following week in Town, taking their leave of the Gardiners, the Fitzwilliams, and certain close acquaintances, packing their trunks, and closing up Darcy House before finally departing for Derbyshire. The journey was long, tedious, and exhausting. Once again, Darcy found himself sitting opposite Elizabeth, but managed to force himself to pass the time more constructively by reading, which he did with only an occasional glance of longing directed toward his wife. Elizabeth chatted with her sisters while she attempted to work on some embroidery, which proved rather challenging while she sat in a constantly rocking carriage. She gave it up after their first day on the road in favor of a new book of sonnets Darcy had procured for her while in London. Georgiana was ill once, but not seriously so, forcing the party to stop earlier than expected for the day. By that time, Darcy had been more than ready to alight from the confines of the carriage and whisk his enticing wife away to the privacy of their adjoining rooms.
After three full days of traveling, they arrived at Pemberley. Darcy instructed the driver to stop the coach at a certain spot where the house could be viewed to particular advantage by all within, and Elizabeth’s head reeled as she beheld the splendor of Pemberley House for the first time. Never before had she seen a house more happily situated or for which nature had done more.
“Lord, Lizzy!” Lydia laughed. “To think you are now mistress of all this!”
Elizabeth smiled at Darcy, who had been observing her reaction to her new home. He leaned forward to grasp her hand and asked, “Do you approve, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth gave a soft, delighted laugh and said, “Oh, yes. Very much. I believe there are very few who would not approve.”
“Perhaps,” he said as his gaze caressed her with a look of love and just a hint of mischief, “but your good opinion is so rarely bestowed and, therefore, more worth the earning.”
She laughed aloud and swatted his arm. “You are incorrigible,” she chided.
Lydia and Georgiana smiled, and Darcy laughed. “Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy,” he said. In the next instant, he rapped upon the roof of the carriage, and the driver urged the horses forward once again. They were soon well on their way to the house, where Elizabeth would now pass the rest of her days, most agreeably, she suspected, as mistress of a very grand estate.
Chapter 33
To Elizabeth, and no doubt to those before her who had received the pleasure of setting foot in Pemberley House, the building’s interior did not disappoint. Very much like their beautiful home in Grosvenor Square, the house—even with its imposing scale and obvious grandeur—reflected the refined elegance and partiality for comfort she had come to expect from her husband.
The main foyer, which held an outrageous number of servants assembled to welcome their master and new mistress home, was massive. It took Elizabeth several moments to overcome her awe and collect herself so she could properly address everyone before her. It was not difficult to see that they had been waiting eagerly—and with more than a little trepidation—to finally glimpse the lady who, it was rumored, had captured their master’s heart. Elizabeth greeted them warmly, and her easy manners earned genuine smiles from many.
Amongst them was a kind-looking elderly lady whom Darcy introduced to Elizabeth as Pemberley’s long-time housekeeper. Though not at all similar in appearance to the plump Mrs. Hildebrandt, Mrs. Reynolds had a motherly look about her all the same. It was apparent to the new Mrs. Darcy, who had observed the warm manner with which they had greeted each other, there existed a great fondness between the slender lady and Pemberley’s master that transcended the bounds of the traditional roles of master and servant.