The Beginning , Section II
Posted on Saturday, 11 May 2002
On the morning of his wedding, Mr. Darcy's mood could only be described as one of eager and agitated anticipation. He rose at 6, was bathed and dressed by 7 and breakfasted by half past. The trip to Meryton he had previously calculated would take no more than half an hour. That left a good two hours with absolutely nothing to do but wait. He had an extra cup of tea in the breakfast room, he attempted to read one of the five volumes that made up the sum total of Bingley's library, he walked outside. All of which took twenty minutes exactly. One hour and forty minutes to go. He returned to the breakfast room, which was still quite empty, and examined the contents of the sideboard. He took another muffin, thought better of it, and put it back. Maybe a good solid ride was what he needed. On the way to the stables he reconsidered. What if he fell? What if the horse threw a shoe? He would miss the wedding. He turned on his heel and returned to the house. An hour and a half to go. He hated waiting. Where was everyone? Where the hell was Bingley? Was he planning to be late for his own wedding? Honestly the man was absolutely hopeless. He had dithered about asking the lady for nine months and now he didn't even have the resolution to wake himself in time for the ceremony. Well no one was going to make him late for his own wedding.
Halfway through his ascent of the stairs he met the object of his vexation, a smiling and relaxed Bingley. Why was he was so calm?
"Good morning Darcy, you look particularly unhappy for a man about to be married" he said in laughing good humour
"Do I? I do not mean to. How do I look unhappy?" Darcy replied in agitation
"Well you are frowning for a start and your face is almost as black as your jacket. You can't walk down the aisle looking like that. You'll frighten poor Miss Eliza away"
"I can't? Jenkins assured me this colour was right for a wedding. I'll turn that man out on his ear if he's made me look ridiculous"
Bingley looked at his friend a little oddly.
"Good lord Darcy what on earth is wrong with you. I have never seen you in such a state. Are you well?" he asked in concern
"I am very well, you must excuse me" Darcy replied before running up the stairs two at a time. An hour and twenty minutes to go.
He reached his rooms only to find his valet conspicuously absent. He called his name several times but received no response. He examined himself in the mirror. What was wrong with black? Black was a dignified colour, it made him look taller, but also more severe, perhaps the green would be better. Good lord what had the man done with his necktie. He'd never seen such a complicated knot. How on earth was he supposed to get that undone tonight? It felt uncommonly tight right now, why had he not noticed it before? Did he have time to change? An hour and ten minutes to go. Yes enough time, but where was Jenkins? That man was out of a position. How could he let him down today of all days. Ten years of solid service, never a foot wrong and on the most important day of my life he strangles me with a neck cloth and dresses me for a funeral. Right where does he keep my clothes. Bloody hell, only an hour to go. How hard can it be to match a waistcoat and jacket? Fifteen minutes later. Quite tricky actually.
Into this quagmire of anxiety and agitation walked a supremely calm and annoyingly agreeable Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had been planning a leisurely breakfast but soon found that his first duty as Darcy's best man was upon him. According to Mr. Bingley the gentleman himself had last been seen heading to his rooms in an extremely agitated state and there was some general concern for his well being. Colonel Fitzwilliam went directly thither only to find a scene of desperation and destruction of an unparalleled scale.
"Darcy what on earth are you doing?" he cried trying his best not to laugh
"I would have thought that was rather obvious, I am trying to dress myself if you hadn't noticed" Darcy replied tersely
"Cousin you haven't dressed yourself since you were eight years old, I suggest you don't resume the activity on your wedding day. Where is Jenkins?"
"I don't know. If he was here I wouldn't be in this bloody fix"
The colonel looked at his cousin, examining his dress in great detail
"What on earth is that around your neck?"
"It's a neck cloth, what do you think it is"
"It may be a neck cloth but it looks more like a tourniquet. Has someone garroted you?"
Darcy turned to stare at his cousin.
"I am in absolutely no mood for your humour. What time is it"
"It's 9 o'clock"
"Bloody hell, only half an hour to go. This will have to do" Darcy replied in agitation
The Colonel looked at Darcy as if doubting his sanity, and dropped all of his usual humour
"You cannot go dressed like that, I will not allow it. I have my own reputation to consider. I will not stand up next to a man who looks like he just crawled out from under a bed. Wait here"
Ten minutes later Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived with a very shocked Jenkins
"Oh sir, what have you done" the valet cried
"No talking Jenkins, just fix it. Right now"
Jenkins cleared his throat. Colonel Fitzwilliam poured the brandy.
Exactly twenty minutes later Mr. Darcy descended the stairs, in a somewhat calmer frame of mind. He had managed to carry the point with the green, Jenkins had been determinedly adamant about the black, and his neck cloth was tied in a somewhat less restrictive manner. Bingley stood anxiously waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"I thought you'd changed your mind about getting married Darcy, what on earth have you been doing?"
Mr. Darcy stared at his friend, that menacing stare that usually made Bingley shake in his boots. Had he not consumed three brandies in the last ten minutes he could have quite happily killed his friend. Not for asking the question, that was incidental. Bingley, who had derided his appearance and caused such scenes of chaos in his own bedroom not half an hour ago, was wearing a black jacket.
By the time they arrived at the church, Darcy had almost returned to good humour. He was here, he was dressed and in ten minutes he would be well on his way to getting married. Things were starting to look up. He could not go so far as being agreeable, unlike Bingley who was at that moment greeting the good citizens of Meryton, but he was at least equal to standing still and waiting, a task that would have been impossible an hour ago. The brandy had helped and with the addition of several deep breaths, he almost felt relaxed. Georgiana caught his eye and smiled, yes the worst was over. Colonel Fitzwilliam gave him that smug smile and slapped him on the back.
"Well Darcy too late to back out now. I hope that little display of nerves this morning was not inspired by regret then"
"Certainly not"
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed and appeared about to say something else, but his laughter died suddenly, as did the smile that was almost permanently affixed to his face. Darcy looked at his cousin in surprise before turning to look at what could have inspired such a sudden alteration in his countenance. Before he had the opportunity of fixing on an object however, he was arrested by a shrill voice that sent a chill down his spine, all the way to his toes
"Is that my nephew? Where have you been, you are late and what on earth are you wearing Darcy. Why are you not wearing black like your friend there. This is not a fashion parade you know. What on earth has your valet done? I will have words with him next time I am at Pemberley. I am particularly attentive to all these things you know. And you Fitzwilliam, why are you not in your regimentals? You look much more becoming in your red coat. I say this church is very cold in the morning, why it faces full west and look at the mud in the drive. "
Lady Catherine continued on in this manner for some time. Darcy simply gritted his teeth and applied a technique that came in particularly handy when in company with his aunt, selective hearing.
At Longbourn the calm weather outside, belied the turmoil within. If Elizabeth and Jane had deceived themselves into thinking that the morning of their wedding should be spent in pleasant and leisurely preparations they were sadly mistaken. Gown's were lost, and found again, stockings separated from their matching pairs, and hairstyles ruined by the constant interruptions of Mrs. Bennet. The lady herself was in a quandary of unforeseen proportions. For having initially thought it a most eligible idea to marry two daughters in one day (for a combined annual income of no less than fifteen thousand pounds) she found the practicalities of the matter somewhat beyond her. It escaped her limited sensibilities that this circumstance of being able to achieve such a matrimonial feat (a circumstance never before seen in Meryton and not to be easily outdone), was all the more likely from the fact that she had five daughters to dispose of, whereas all of her neighbours had only one, or two at best. If she managed to carry of this event it would be much talked of, but her immediate problem remained.
Her dilemma was this. She knew her valuable assistance was needed somewhere, but where it should be bestowed she knew not. For whilst Jane had the rights to her assistance by age, beauty and good nature, Elizabeth, her least favourite daughter, had achieved a marriage of greater importance. And while Bingley was agreeable and had five thousand a year, Mr. Darcy was, well, to be truthful disagreeable, but had ten. Therefore there was some indecision as to where her invaluable assistance should be directed. Elizabeth was more than happy to cede her rights to Jane, and actually suggested that Jane was in the greater need of assistance several times, for quite frankly her hair was longer. But no sooner had Mrs. Bennet reached her eldest daughters room than she remembered the carriages and pin money that could be bought with Mr. Darcy's income and she was forced to cross the hall again. It was all extremely vexing. Had she been a sensible woman she might have realised that Elizabeth had no want or need of her assistance and was more than content with the silent maid's attentions, but she had at no time of her life been considered a sensible woman.
So it was that when they departed the house some time later, both Jane and Elizabeth were starting to feel the beginnings of a headache, Mrs. Bennet's powders were permanently affixed to her nose, and Mr. Bennet extremely reluctant to leave the quiet sanctuary of his library. Kitty coughed in agitation and Mary clutched her sermons silently to her breast. It was not a promising start.
As often happens, such promising starts often proceed in the manner which they first began. Elizabeth in all the nervousness and agitation that can be expected of a bride, entered the church unhappily. Anticipating that the first face she would see would be that of her future husband, was vexed beyond belief to find that it was no less a person than his Aunt who first commanded this attention. What could she be doing here at a place where there was least to be done, where she was least wanted, and where she was sure to find no pleasure? Trouble was the only answer that came to mind and so she found herself approaching an unusually solemn Darcy in a state of agitated feelings not particularly conducive for an attentive recital of vows. Instinctively she placed her hand on his arm as a gesture of comfort, for herself as much as for him. It was a move which drew the ire of the presiding clergyman, but was vindicated a moment later by Darcy placing his hand over her own and glaring at the man in annoyance at such an affront to his bride. The clergyman looked embarrassed and continued the sermons, and Elizabeth began to feel more herself, supported by Darcy's protective presence by her side. By the time they were required to recite those vows she almost felt ready to be married.
Throughout the sermons Darcy was also somewhat preoccupied. He was in fact beginning to reconsider the wisdom of having chosen his cousin as best man, for on the entrance of The Miss Bennets, he was able to perceive a sharply in-drawn breath and a small utterance that sounded very much like "Oh, I say". Turning his eye to that quarter he detected the look of admiration that the Colonel bestowed on Elizabeth with no small degree of anger. Elizabeth did look quite remarkably well but it would not do to have the best man, or any man for that matter, admiring his bride in such a way. Aside from that little slip, the colonel had raised the ire of Mr. Darcy in quite a different way. Although he appreciated his cousins invaluable efforts in getting him to the alter, the effects of the application of such tonics that were required for calming his nerves, began to be felt quite urgently. In short, having consumed one orange juice, two cups of tea, three brandies and a coffee before leaving Netherfield that morning, he desperately needed relief and found himself quite unequal to doing justice to the minister's words.
It is not the intention of this work to give a detailed description of all the trifling details that make up a wedding ceremony. The feelings of each couple could be quite easily ascertained from the looks that they bore. Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet smiled complacently, Miss Eliza Bennet and Mr. Darcy did not. This of course should not be taken as an indication that they wished to be elsewhere, rather that there were other matters on their minds. When the vows were exchanged however, their attentions were most decidedly bestowed on their partners, and the looks that passed between them did justice to all the feelings and wishes of their hearts.
Happy was the day when Mrs. Bennet married her two eldest daughters. She received congratulations on their behalves and made sure that all in attendance were aware of the fiduciary remuneration that such an event would produce. It momentarily escaped her that she herself would see no benefit from this, but it was just as well to have two daughters so well married. Mr. Bennet looked on in amusement with no doubt that in time she would begin to feel the injustice of having two daughters so well married, when she still had two unmarried, one not so well married, and herself in a not altogether comfortable financial position. But for the moment she was content with her lot and he was content to see his daughters happy. The additional knowledge that he was now at his leisure to go to his grave at any time in the near or distant future, without inconveniencing his wife in any way, greatly added to his satisfaction of the event.
The ceremonies over, the vows spoken, the two happy couples proceeded back down the aisle. But all was not well. Upon looking at her new husband, Elizabeth perceived that he was still not smiling and he appeared to be in some degree of pain. By the time they had reached the courtyard, her recent vows were forgotten and she was seriously concerned for his health.
"Mr. Darcy are you well" she asked with no small degree of alarm
"I am well, forgive me I must go" He turned to look at her, distress written plainly on his face, only to release her hand suddenly and run off behind the church.
The very new Mrs. Darcy wasn't quite sure what to make of such a hasty and unexplained departure, and it was with some disquiet that she was left standing next to a beaming Jane and Bingley minus her new husband when the crowd of well wishers descended. Her mother did not seem to notice that she had lost her husband already, not that this would have mattered, for fifty of Meryton's finest had just witnessed the vows being spoken. His presence was apparently no longer required.
On seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching to offer congratulations, Elizabeth drew him aside to express her concerns for Darcy's welfare, at which the Colonel laughed and assured her that the gentleman was quite well, just temporarily indisposed. This would not satisfy Elizabeth's curiosity as to why her husband should choose to abandon her at such a time and so pressed him quite adamantly. The Colonel, taking pity on her distress, delicately explained the reason for his cousin's hasty departure. This then required a relation of the circumstance which had led to such a neglect of his own personal comfort, at which Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise, for she could not imagine Mr. Darcy in such a state of agitation as to require brandy to subdue. Her doubts were removed however by the assertions of Georgiana who declared quite emphatically that she had never seen her brother in such a state. It was cruel, but she could not help but laugh, as much from relief as from imagining Darcy acting in such a way.
Some minutes later, Mr. Darcy himself returned in a much more relieved state only to find his cousin happily occupying that place next to his wife, which he himself should have been filling. From all appearances the Colonel seemed to be quite contentedly accepting, on his behalf, those best wishes and congratulations that he himself should have had the pleasure of receiving, and did in fact appear to be doing a quite admirable impersonation of a happy bridegroom.
Fully intending to correct this gross miscarriage of justice, he was unfortunately waylaid by Sir William Lucas. That gentleman thought it necessary to officially welcome Darcy as both a member of the matrimonial state, but also as an official member of the Meryton society, as opposed to a temporary visitor. On expressing these welcomes he then seemed inclined to further discuss the possibilities of perhaps seeing the new Mrs. Darcy at court, but it would seem that Mr. Darcy was not. His anger was growing by the minute on perceiving the manner with which his wife and his cousin seemed to be engaged in pleasant conversation. He said something very close to her ear, and she looked at him and smiled before allowing her mirth to overtake her. The colonel laughed in response and Darcy stood immobile, hamstrung by the attentions of Sir William. He was not unaware of the intimacy and ease of their previous acquaintance in Kent, and he did not like it, especially considering that he had yet to share his feelings with his wife on having achieved the long-awaited matrimonial state. She was his, he was hers and like any newly married man he was eager to bestow those attentions which he was now, by the rights of the church and society, allowed to enjoy. In short, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her, he actually wanted a lot more, but at that moment he would have been content to just have his cousin far away and be able to stand beside her.
But it was not to be. With a rather determined attempt at rudeness, he disconnected himself from Sir William, who appeared to not all disturbed by such an affront, and actually seemed inclined to think the gentleman's behaviour rather capital, for he repeated this phrase several times to no-one in particular. This achieved, Darcy only managed another three paces in the direction of his wife before he was accosted by another group of well wishers who seemed intent on shaking his arm out of its socket. His hand was taken and passed along a line of gentlemen beginning with Mr. Hurst, and ending with Mr. Bingley but containing Mr. Phillips, Mr. Collins, Mr. Long, Mr. Bennet and a number of other Mr's that he did not know or care about. All of these kind solicitations of course went unheard and unacknowledged by the recipient whose attention was still captured by his wife, with his cousin still firmly attached at her elbow.
It was too much. With a determination that frightened off any further well-wishers who may have liked to congratulate him, he pushed his way through the crowd until he was standing before his Mrs. Darcy and the Colonel, glaring at the later who then had the gall to turn on him in laughing good humour
"Darcy we had begun to despair of you ever returning. Mrs. Darcy was beginning to think she may have to look for another husband"
Naturally, this comment did not sit well with Darcy and as he was formulating a reply in his mind, that did not involve violence, the officious Mrs. Bennet appeared, intent on shooing everyone towards Longbourn for the wedding breakfast. This was just as well for Darcy, for he was too angry with his cousin to speak politely and it would in fact mean a natural separation of the party, allowing him to be alone with his wife, for the first time. Little was said as they climbed into the carriage, Elizabeth smiled at him and took his hand. With his cousin now removed and himself in his rightful place, he began to return to a somewhat more agreeable humour.
Elizabeth, although having some knowledge of the reasons for Mr. Darcy's behaviour, was still a little annoyed that she had been so deserted. When he had finally returned, she had been expecting an apology, or at least an explanation, or even an acknowledgement of her presence, but he had said nothing and simply glared at his cousin with open hostility. She began to think that he may wish for a more private moment but when they left in the carriage for Longbourn quite alone, his behaviour did not alter. He was silent, serious, and from the grip he had on her hand, seemingly quite tense. She began to think that he did not mean to speak to her at all.
About halfway to Longbourn though Darcy called out to the groom to stop the carriage and on doing so climbed out and offered his hand to his wife. Elizabeth looked at him curiously but took the hand and climbed down also.
"Is there something amiss Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy looked at her quite seriously before leading her down a small hill towards a woody copse.
"There has been a rather gross miscarriage of justice Mrs. Darcy, which I am in the process of rectifying"
Elizabeth was naturally very curious as to why he had suddenly chosen this moment to take a stroll, for as the guests of honour they were expected quite promptly at Longbourn to celebrate their own wedding.
"Would you care to enlighten me Mr. Darcy as to the nature of this problem and why it could not wait until we reached our destination?"
By this time they had reached the cover of the trees and were beyond the view of the road, so Darcy stopped and turned toward her, taking her hands in his own. She was relieved to see him smile at last as he spoke.
"It would seem Mrs. Darcy, that I have been rather neglectful in my duties as a husband so far, for I am quite certain that I am the only person at our wedding who has yet to kiss the bride. As you now I am a man who pays careful attention to his duties and such a gross failure as this I find both abhorrent and very careless on my part. As such I intend to rectify this little problem and make full amends, hence privacy is required."
Elizabeth could not think of any way to reply to such a decided declaration of his intentions, except for a smile and a rather becoming blush, which quite suited Mr. Darcy's purposes. At that moment he had no wish for conversation, and the rosy glow on her cheek simply added to the many charms that his wife already possessed. Thus it was quite a simple matter of taking her in his arms and tasting those lips that he could now truthfully call his own.
As Mr. Darcy was always very careful and diligent in the execution of his duties, it was not surprising that it was only a very short time later that Elizabeth fully forgave her husband for his previous neglect. She was not inclined to inform him of this fact however, and if he continued to labour under the impression that further amends needed to be made she was quite willing to wear the consequences. Had she wished to relieve his mind of guilt it would have been logistically impossible anyway. She found that her lips were not really free for such mundane tasks as speaking, and she was not overly concerned that he would be suffering in any way, for she had a sneaking suspicion that guilt had not been his motivation.
So it happened that they continued in this quite satisfactory manner until one or the other vaguely recalled the need to be somewhere else. This vague recollection was prompted by none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was standing at a discreet distance with his eyes averted (partly anyway), trying rather unsuccessfully to attract their attention. Although the Colonel would much rather have been elsewhere, he had in fact been sent forth by Lady Catherine, who upon seeing Darcy's carriage stopped on the road, would not be satisfied until she saw it mobile again en-route to Longbourn. As much as the Colonel respected his cousins right to privacy, as well as his right to share affection with his new wife (who he could not fail to notice just happened to be admirably passionate in response to her husbands affections), he also knew he could not return to his Aunt's carriage without achieving his mission. So it was that when Darcy managed to free his lips long enough to quite firmly instruct him to 'go away', he stood firm. He had endured enough military training to know when to stand his ground under orders. This was exactly one of those times.
It was only a few moments later that his perseverance produced results, for the new Mrs. Darcy began to feel some discomfort at having such an intimate moment witnessed, albeit covertly, by a third party. Mr. Darcy, who we well know is not afraid of giving offence, could have continued in this manner for some time, but concerned for his wife's sensibilities, contented himself with holding her in his arms. Drawing back, Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled
"Although my memory is probably not what it should be at the moment Mr. Darcy, I do recall that we have a wedding to celebrate"
"You do not wish to celebrate alone then?" Darcy whispered in her ear rather hopefully
Elizabeth could not resist the temptation of running her fingers over his rather swollen lips
"As tempting as it is sir, I do believe that my mother would never forgive me if I forgot to attend my own wedding celebrations. At the risk of going against your wishes, I believe a temporary diversion of our attentions will not cause us to suffer unduly. We have the rest of our lives to celebrate alone"
Had Elizabeth realised how very provoking her actions and words were to her husband at that moment, she probably would have taken pity on him and held her tongue. For Mr. Darcy was suffering and the idea of spending a great deal of time celebrating alone had very strong merit at that point. In addition to this, the idea of offending his mother in law was also rather appealing, and had it been his inclination alone, he probably would have instructed his groom to take them directly to London, or the nearest inn at least. But he was now a married man and he must consider the feelings of his wife, and while he saw no need to make the celebration of their wedding a general concern, he knew that she did. Kissing her lightly on the lips he took her hand and led her back up the hill to the waiting carriage.
The smiling Colonel looked at a resigned Darcy in amusement, before slapping him on the back.
"Cheer up Darcy, the sooner you get there, the sooner you may leave and get on to more ... err ... pressing matters"
Mr. Darcy did not feel it necessary to respond to this comment, for although it quite accurately reflected his own sentiments, he could hardly acknowledge the fact in front of his wife. There were times when his cousin was annoyingly perceptive.
On reaching the two waiting carriages, the Colonel benevolently offered his services as an escort, with the intention of ensuring that they reached Longbourn in a timely manner. The offer was most decidedly negative by Darcy, who sent the Colonel back to their Aunt with no small degree of satisfaction. Taking his place beside his wife, he then allowed himself the pleasure of taking her in his arms again, intent on enjoying the relative privacy that the conveyance afforded.
The Colonel watched their departure with amusement and resignation. Not for the first time in his life did he consider his cousin to be a singularly lucky bastard. Not only did he have wealth, looks and good character, but he had just taken as a wife the most promising young woman he had seen in a long time. He had long been aware that Elizabeth had wit, beauty, and charm, but the recent addition of passion to these many attributes, simply made her all the more attractive, and from what he had witnessed very recently, she appeared to have an abundance of it for Darcy. Sighing to himself, he turned on his heel and walked back to the carriage, for he could no longer ignore the shrill voice that beckoned.
Posted on Friday, 17 May 2002
Not surprisingly the Darcys found themselves to be quite late for the start of their wedding celebrations. Upon their arrival however there was further cause for delay. Mrs. Darcy quite obviously had urgent need of a maid. It seemed that her husband had taken it upon himself to vent all his frustrations at being made to suffer through a wedding breakfast on the careful arrangement of her hair. A circumstance that did not go unnoticed by many in attendance, and caused some comment by Miss Bingley and her sister about the relative wildness of the lady's hair and the general dishevelment of her dress. It was with a small degree of vexation that Elizabeth herself considered how she could have ended up in a barely presentable state where her husband appeared to have suffered no disturbance that a straightening of cravat and smoothing of hair would not remedy.
Mrs. Bennet took one look at her daughter and began to scold her for dilly-dallying about, but was suddenly arrested by the rather impressive diamond and sapphire wedding ring that she now wore, and was instantly reminded of just who it was that she was about to berate. Elizabeth Bennet was no more, the young woman who now stood in their foyer was no less than Mrs. Darcy, of Pemberley in Derbyshire, the ten thousand a year Mrs. Darcy. A very dishevelled Mrs. Darcy, but impressive just the same. Oh how well it sounded! She retreated in agitated silence with a rather silly smile on her face, leaving a dumbfounded Elizabeth behind her, wondering why her mother had suddenly chosen not to vent her spleen.
With Elizabeth attending to the necessary repairs, Mr. Darcy entered the dining room alone, followed closely by Lady Catherine and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was greeted warmly by the waiting guests, none of whom felt equal to questioning the rather intimidating gentleman on his reasons for keeping everyone waiting.
Mr. Bingley, however, easily forsaking such deference that would deny him some pride in his own promptness, rushed in where angels feared to tread. He seized the opportunity to celebrate what he saw as proof of the superiority of the Bingley horseflesh, over the best of the Pemberley stables, by puffing out his chest and saying rather loudly to the room in general
"I say Darcy, your horses seem to be a bit slow this morning, you are almost half an hour late."
Darcy feeling no need for explanations issued an all-purpose excuse, which actually said very little at all.
"We were unaccountably delayed," was his calm and rather disinterested reply
Bingley looked at his friend rather curiously for if there was one thing that was sure to invoke Mr. Darcy's ire, it was any criticism of the fitness of his horses, and it did in fact appear that Darcy could not have cared less. He had no way of knowing that the gentleman himself was actually wishing that his horses were rather slower, or that things had just started to get interesting again in the carriage when the Darcy's were forced too undertake a hasty separation in preparation for their arrival.
But if Darcy did not deem in necessary to explain his actions, luckily for the assembled party, his Aunt felt quite free to do it for him.
"It seems that Mrs. Darcy, who we all know is an excellent walker, decided to go for a bit of a wander in the woods. We found their carriage on the high road, quite abandoned, and it was twenty minutes before they could be found. It was most inconvenient. Thankfully I had the dear Colonel to chase them down, for it seems that they had quite over-exerted themselves. Why they were both quite flushed and out of breath by the time they got back to the carriage."
Darcy could not help but notice his cousin's smirk at this comment and although disinclined to promote the continuance of such a conversation, he could not allow Elizabeth to wear the blame for his own initiatives
"Actually Aunt it was I who required some exercise, Mrs. Darcy simply accompanied me out of the goodness of her heart."
Lady Catherine snorted in disbelief
"I must say Fitzwilliam that you are picking up some very singular notions from that wife of yours. Between the two of you I do not know who has the most decided opinions."
"As long as we remain in agreement Lady Catherine, it does not signify," he replied with some annoyance
"You may say that now, and I suppose you think a little impertinence rather becoming, but you will tire of it soon enough. A woman in her position must learn to school her opinions and restrain herself, for it is most unbecoming in a lady of quality to be so forthright. I know whereof I speak Fitzwilliam, I have seen many a well-bred lady expose herself to ridicule by speaking too openly."
Mr. Darcy chose not to answer, for he could add nothing of value to the testimony that his Aunt had just provided. She had quite adequately proved her own point, which was in no way a reflection of Elizabeth's character anyway. He simply nodded and on noticing his wife's return to the festivities, rose to escort her to her place at the table.
As we well know, Elizabeth had not Jane's wish of being universally agreeable and so it was with a small amount of satisfaction that she entered the room, much repaired in appearance, and knowing herself to be both envied and despised by the two in the room who she cared least about. Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine De Bourgh were the unhappy pair, and she knew that both nursed a degree of frustrated hopes that their determined temperaments would not allow them to easily dismiss. Unbeknownst to her though, they both had plans for the day.
Miss Bingley, having failed in gaining the affections of Mr. Darcy, had soon turned her attentions to his nearest eligible relative. She was bitter about her failure with Darcy, but she was also practical, and as opportunists are wont to do she recognised an opportunity when she saw one. She had only to change from Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam and it was done. Done in the space of a minute. The gentleman himself remained as agreeably insensible as a sitting duck can be, smiling, laughing, completely unaware of the fate that was to befall him.
Although Colonel Fitzwilliam was not anywhere near Darcy in terms of eligibility, Miss Bingley recognised that he had several favourable qualities. He was agreeable, was neither too handsome nor too ugly, had an occupation that kept him away from home much of the time, and as the younger son of an earl came with pedigree papers. Oh and he was eligible. In addition to these many attributes, she had heard some talk that regimental style dress was coming back into fashion with the war effort, so as a fashion accessory he would be invaluable.
The decision made, the next step was to calculate a plan. Having wasted two years, and no small amount of effort on Darcy, she could not allow such recalcitrance in his cousin. Some urgency may have assisted in this, for the ticking of a certain biological clock was getting rather louder by the month. Having witnessed the rise and rise of Miss Elizabeth Bennet she sought to employ some of that ladies cunning tactics. It seemed that gentleman did not care for culture and accomplishments, despite Darcy's protestations to the contrary, for he was evidence of the fact himself. He had taken for a wife a woman of no talent, little beauty and dubious breeding, thus proving that men are not ruled by their brains at all. If amorous attentions were the way to a respectable gentleman's heart, with the right inducement she too could be as loose as the Netherfield dairymaid.
As to the other disappointed party, she also had come with an express purpose, and she sat waiting impatiently for her opportunity.
No less than eight courses were served at Longbourn that day, and in deference to Mr. Darcy, two of them in the French style, which left Mr. Bennet wondering in some bemusement at why the cook had suddenly taken to serving half portions. He was not aware of any shortfall of funds in the housekeeping and in fact had supplied a substantial sum for the celebration of his daughters wedding. But as his wife had supervised the menu, he thought it wise not to question what he could not expect any rational answer for. Thus he contented himself to consuming and observing. He was so well supplied for entertainment that he was quite content to remain in his seat, silently, with the exception of the regular chuckle, all day.
The party numbered one and twenty, and so the dining room was quite full. Besides the residents of the house and the newly married couples, there were the Gardiners, Hursts, Collinses, Phillipses, Lady Catherine and her daughter Anne, Georgiana Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley. It was an odd mix but the celebrations flowed merrily along, Elizabeth, Jane and Mr. Bingley mixed quite happily among their guests, while Mr. Darcy contented himself by conversing with the few in attendance who he new capable of conducting a rational conversation.
After enduring several hours of well-wishing and fawning attentions from her mother, Elizabeth began to feel the need for a brief respite. She entered the hall with the intention of taking a moment alone upstairs, but found herself, quite literally, in the clutches of Lady Catherine De Bourgh, who had quite obviously been lying in wait for just such an opportunity.
The great lady it seemed was so determined to speak, that she found herself physically escorted into the library, with the door firmly closed behind her. Elizabeth was annoyed, and justifiably so, for she had gone in search of relief and found herself trapped by the one person who she least wanted to speak to. And as she saw the determination in the Lady's eyes she could quite easily say that there were very few places she would less like to be at that moment, the frozen tundra's of Siberia perhaps? But even that was looking tempting in the face of Lady Catherine's displeased glare.
She considered her position momentarily, Lady Catherine was quite doggedly guarding the door, getting past her would no doubt require a certain amount of agility and some physical force. She was younger and fitter, and success was not impossible. Any such encounter would be extremely satisfying, but without doubt, unladylike in the extreme. Mrs. Darcy brawling on her wedding day? I think not. It was with a small degree of frustration that she considered the fact that where Elizabeth Bennet probably would have, Mrs. Darcy certainly must not. Calling for help was another option but that would be rather weak, something that Kitty might do, and even if she succeeded, experience had taught her that Lady Catherine would only find another opportunity to have her say. In a sudden burst of martyrdom she resolved to endure it as best she could and in the interests of getting it over with quickly, to listen in silence.
No sooner had Lady Catherine opened her mouth though, than Elizabeth realised that this particular resolution would be rather difficult to keep. And while she fully understood that when married one occasionally needed to suffer for love, enduring one of her husband's Aunt's lectures on her wedding day was asking a little too much.
"Mrs. Darcy you must know why I have come here today?" she stated in her most authoritative tone
With an air of calm detachment Elizabeth replied as best she could.
"On the contrary Lady Catherine. I am quite at a loss to comprehend your reasons for attending my wedding and then accosting me in such a manner. I had understood that your feelings were so strong on this point that you had openly acknowledged that the marriage you have just witnessed would not be recognised by yourself. Would not your coming here seem to refute that opinion, or have you perhaps changed your mind."
Lady Catherine's eyes narrowed dangerously at such a suggestion.
"I have not changed my mind young lady and I find it incomprehensible that you should even suggest it. My reasons for coming here are of a different nature. As my nephew has willfully disobeyed both mine and his own dear mother's wishes in marrying you, I have come here to ensure that you are aware of your duties as his wife."
Elizabeth cringed, there was no way she was going to endure a conjugal lecture from Lady Catherine without protest
"Really Lady Catherine this is not necessary my mother has already..."
"Let me speak," Lady Catherine said with a determined glare
Elizabeth sighed in resignation, and the Lady continued
"Since you have married so advantageously you will now find that you are in a position quite removed from your current situation. You shall find things move very differently at Pemberley to what they do on this estate, so I should think your mother's instruction to be not very useful at all. Now as to the matter of managing your servants. You must remember at all times that their business is not yours and your business is not theirs. If they find themselves in distressed circumstances, which these people always do, you must not be taken in by hard-luck stories of sick children and the like..."
And on and she went, until Elizabeth could listen no more
Her inattentiveness did not go unnoticed for long however and on perceiving that her instruction was falling on deaf ears Lady Catherine leaned over and pinched her pupil quite cruelly on the arm. Elizabeth was more surprised than hurt but looked at Lady Catherine with displeasure
"You will listen when spoken to."
Although Elizabeth had never had a governess or been to school, she suddenly felt very much like she was now in the unfortunate position of being a young pupil with a particularly nasty headmistress. It was not a pleasant experience
"You will be required to provide an heir, which will of course mean submitting to regular servicings by Mr. Darcy until such time as you find yourself with child."
Elizabeth suddenly felt very ill at hearing her husband spoken of in such terms, she made a determined attempt at protest but found that she was simply talked over the top of.
"However distasteful you may find the business, you must submit with good grace and courtesy. Very little is required on your part, you may be as still as you like and the business may take no time at all, and you must remain silent throughout so as not to distract your husband. After the business is done he will leave you in peace until such time as he can ascertain whether his seed has planted roots. Although you may find the transaction unpleasant you may always distract yourself with more pleasant thoughts and I dare say you shall find it very little inconvenience at all. Your husband may receive some pleasure from these exchanges, but you must not expect anything of the kind, nor shall you seek it. It is a duty and this point you must never forget. Your husband of course may wish to pleasure himself more regularly if he so desires."
Lady Catherine paused for breath as she paced about in front of the door, before she returned to her spot and looked Elizabeth determinedly in the eye, pursing her mouth in that shrewish way before she spoke
"I know not what wiles and charms that you employed to capture my nephew but henceforth you shall conduct yourself as a lady. He will appreciate delicacy and deference, and such forwardness as I have seen you display in the past will not be tolerated. When you are intimate with him you will not remove your nightgown, he shall find what he needs beneath it, and you must not allow him to see you unclothed, ladies of quality do not allow such things. Neither shall you approach your husband and encourage him to engage in such activities, it is unseemly and he will think you a wanton."
Elizabeth exclaimed at such a slanderous insinuation
"Lady Catherine I must beg you to importune me no further," she said quite angrily
"I have not yet done young lady, I have not even started on how you shall raise the children."
But Elizabeth was determined, for if she did not stop this now she could be here all afternoon, and at the moment her temper was not above contemplating physical confrontation.
"By what right do you seek to advise me on these matters?"
"By my right as head of this family. I take my duties very seriously and I must ensure that all comply with what is required to hold up the family name."
Elizabeth's exasperation was difficult to contain.
"Lady Catherine I am absolutely certain that Mr. Darcy would not appreciate your assumption of the position as head of his family, nor your manner of addressing his wife in this way. As he is my husband I must defer to his wishes and expectations only and not to yours. In short Lady Catherine, I trust Mr. Darcy knows what is best for the Darcy's and on these matters I shall seek counsel only from him. I have nothing further to say and I would ask that you allow me to leave."
"Willful, insolent girl. You will be the ruin of my nephew and the Darcy name."
The doorway now clear, Elizabeth departed as hastily as she could with Lady Catherine still spitting epithets behind her.
On emerging from the library, Elizabeth was surprised to find the vestibule unusually crowded. Her father and her husband, along with colonel Fitzwilliam stood just outside the door, which if she had not been so irate, she might have considered unusual. Two of them had no genuine reason for being there, apart from entertainment. Darcy alone had been intending to enter the room with the gallant notion of rescuing his wife, but had been arrested by the argument within, and so remained immobile at the door. Thus they all looked unaccountably silly when she suddenly appeared.
Elizabeth took a single look at the three of them and not trusting herself to speak for fear of saying something she may later regret, passed silently into the drawing room again.
The three gentlemen looked at each other in surprise, the Colonel was the first to speak and unfortunately said the first thing that came into his head.
"I say, she is savagely attractive when she's angry."
Mr. Darcy stared at his cousin with a mixture of anger and incredulity and at that moment felt justifiably inclined to inflict grievous bodily harm. He had not failed to notice the same thing, but then he had every right to.
"Fitzwilliam I sincerely hope that you are talking about our Aunt, because if you are talking about my wife I will take offence."
Mr. Bennet chuckled delightedly as Mr. Darcy stalked off in pursuit of his wife. Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged his shoulders and said to the other gentleman
"Well she is. Frankly I wouldn't mind soothing that temper."
Mr. Bennet's amusement faded as he glared at the Colonel
"Might I remind you sir that she is also my daughter?"
The Colonel reddened on realising who addressed him and made his excuses. Why did he never think before he opened his mouth? This was not a good day so far.
On reaching the relative sanctuary of the crowded drawing room, Elizabeth immediately sought the soothing counsel of her good friend Mrs. Collins. She found her standing in a corner alone, almost concealed by an indoor plant and quite obviously hiding from her husband. The obsequious clergyman himself was quite lost without his patron to attend to. In her absence he quite naturally turned his attention to the object nearest the great ladies heart, which was of course her daughter Miss De Bourgh. As Elizabeth walked by, he was in the midst of a soliloquy on the beauty of the fine lace which trimmed the handkerchief with which she wiped her nose, and the delicacy of the frail fingers that held it. Her anger with Lady Catherine was lessened just a little by this display and with a much-needed glass of champagne, she actually found herself now calm enough to speak to her friend.
"Oh Charlotte, I cannot see how you can live with that woman always meddling in your life, she drives me to distraction and I am sure that she delights in provoking me."
Charlotte patted her on the hand in a vain attempt to relieve her anger.
"Lizzy you know how Lady Catherine is, she simply likes to be of use."
"Your unfailing politeness and rationality never cease to amaze me Charlotte. If she ever attempts to insinuate herself into my life again I will not be responsible for my actions."
Charlotte exclaimed at the vehemence of her friend's words.
"What on earth did she say?"
"Nothing and everything and very little of consequence. She instructed me on all the usual things, managing the household, keeping the servants in order, providing heirs."
"There is nothing out of the ordinary there."
"Yes I know but she has no right to advise me and her manner is so repugnant that I cannot help myself," Elizabeth replied with a resigned laugh
"In the interests of family accord I think you will have to allow some concessions. She is Mr. Darcy's aunt after all."
Elizabeth sighed
"I am well aware of that fact. Perhaps when she comes to Pemberley I can set her to designing shelves for all the cupboards. I am sure there are more than enough to keep her amused, if not I will just have to have more built. One can never have too much structured storage space you know."
Charlotte cleared her throat then moved discretely away as a rather displeased Mr. Darcy came to stand beside his wife.
"I must apologise for my Aunt."
"Yes you must, she really can be very unpleasant when she sets her mind to it," Elizabeth replied with a laugh
"How long must we stay here Elizabeth?" he said with a frown
Mrs. Darcy smiled at her husband's obvious displeasure
"I know that the very rich can give offence wherever they choose but I do not yet have the habits of a lifetime to support me. I believe we need to at least stay for the speeches."
"I find it unaccountably cruel to hold two people here against their will on the pretext of celebrating an event which they would much rather do alone," he grumbled
"Jane and Mr. Bingley seem happy," she said hopefully
"When do they not."
"Very true," She looked at him and smiled, and as they were in a relatively secluded part of the room placed her hand in his and caressed it lightly.
"Patience is a virtue Mr. Darcy."
He looked at her for a minute, before leaning over to whisper in her ear
"There is only one virtue I am interested in today and I do not believe it is patience."
This rather provoking comment was accompanied by a very improper caress of her bottom and an exceedingly intimate kiss below her ear. Unbeknownst to Darcy however, such attentions which half an hour ago his wife might have found quite promising and very pleasing, suddenly made her unaccountably nervous. Having endured half an hour of instruction on what she must not do, she found his actions to be quite provoking. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to enjoy his caresses, and most of all she wanted the intimacy of the last few days to continue now that they were married. But according to Lady Catherine and her mother (whose lectures had born some quite frightening similarities) none of this was allowed. She wondered whether her husband was aware of these rules, for quite frankly his affectionate nature seemed to indicate otherwise. Certainly their recent exchange of vows seemed to have had quite the opposite effect, for in the last few hours she had seen very little restraint, and none of the detachment that Lady Catherine deemed necessary for intimacy. But those were the accepted rules apparently, and it was with no small degree of curiosity that she found herself wondering how the usually very correct Mr. Darcy would interpret them. His hand after all, was still lightly caressing her bottom
"Mr. Darcy I do believe that it is not the done thing to place one's hand on a lady's person whilst in company."
"I do believe you are right," he replied, but made no move to remove the offending appendage
She could not help but laugh at such a determined display of his will.
"Are you trying to induce me to leave?"
He looked at her with what she thought was a rather devious smile.
"Most definitely. I will do anything in my power that will allow me to be alone with you sooner."
Elizabeth soon found that two glasses of champagne, and the rendering of such intimate caresses had the unfortunate effect of inducing a state of affection for her husband that could not be comfortably accommodated in a crowded room. Under the power of such influences, Lady Catherine's advice was long forgotten and she seriously considered dragging him out into the garden. At that moment however a rather convenient diversion occurred in that exact location quite adequately providing the general distraction she was looking for. Seeing that the attention of the room in general was caught by the events outside, she took the opportunity of engaging her husband in an exceedingly passionate kiss. Darcy quite naturally needed very little encouragement to reciprocate the attentions.
The diversion in the garden was provided by a person who's intentions at the time bore a striking similarity to Mrs. Darcy's, although not for the same reasons. While Elizabeth was having lascivious thoughts about her husband for purely affectionate reasons, Miss Bingley was having those same thoughts but with motives entirely mercenary.
Having applied all her wile and charm on the Colonel, Miss Bingley found that she was progressing rather well. The gentleman was certainly agreeable and she began to wonder why she had persisted for so long with his cousin. For in the two years she had spent pursuing Darcy she had not received a tenth of the encouragement that the dear Colonel had thrown her way in the last hour. And as she knew not when
she would see him again, a walk in the garden seemed like an opportunity not to be missed. They wandered about and discussed books and music, which was all very nice, but would not achieve her objective. A bit of cunning was required.
"Oh dear Colonel" she began "I believe I am getting rather overcome with the heat, would you mind escorting me to the shade of that large oak"
The colonel looked momentarily confused, for on inspecting the sky he could see nothing but cloud, and it did in fact look very much like rain. But never being one to argue with a lady, he escorted her as desired. She did in fact seem quite affected, for she leaned quite heavily on his arm, stooping so that her own head was now no higher than his own. With the disadvantage of their height differential now corrected, he took the opportunity of examining her better. She was a handsome woman, not beautiful, but well featured. Her eye for fashion he thought did not entirely compliment her complexion, but then burnt orange rarely does against a fair skin. He had seen Nubian women in Northern Africa carry it off quite well, but no, it did not suit the fair English complexion. Still she was well dowered and not lacking in conversation, it was worth pursuing when there was little else of interest inside. That Kitty Bennet had made herself most annoying by wanting to discuss the finer points of his regimentals, and watching his cousin lusting after his new wife got rather tedious after a while too. No, Miss Bingley was pleasant company, and he could do worse.
It was with these rather nebulous thoughts that he contented himself, and thus by the time they reached the supposed sanctuary of the tree he found himself not entirely alert. As any Boy Scout knows, and one would expect a soldier should also, one must always be prepared.
Unfortunately at that moment the colonel was not.
"FITZWILLIAM."
All eyes turned to Lady Catherine and then followed her own to where they were fixed determinedly on an object in the garden. That object was a rather large oak and beneath it stood her nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Miss Caroline Bingley, engaged in what appeared to be a very one-sided kiss. A universal gasp went up around the room, followed closely by a few sniggers and a number of chuckles. All eyes, with the exception of the Darcy's who we know were otherwise engaged, were watching the scene outside with great interest and amusement. It was quite apparent to all that the Colonel was in fact a very unwilling partner. Miss Bingley, using her height advantage for leverage, had him quite firmly by the neck cloth and the gentleman was pressed hard up against the tree, arms flailing as if searching for a lifeline.
Lady Catherine huffed in obvious displeasure and pursed her lips until they were an imperceptible line.
"You young men take delight in vexing me I am sure. No manners, no sense of family duty. Who am I to get for my Anne now?"
Moments later she could be seen striding across the lawn, waving her parasol above her head and yelling epithets in her most determined voice.
Jane looked rather shocked and naturally became concerned for the well-being of her sister in law
"Charles do you not think you should go to Caroline's aid, this is quite scandalous."
Mr. Bingley looked at the scene and laughed heartily. "No I think Caroline seems to be coping quite well, perhaps your cousin may need some assistance Darcy."
On looking about the room for his friend however, he found that he was in fact absent, but no ... what was that behind the palm in the corner. Ah yes, Darcy, impatiently enjoying the privileges of marriage. He looked at his own wife, radiantly angelic and concerned for his predatory sister. Patience man, patience.
The scene outside played itself out, with the able assistance of Lady Catherine and her parasol (such devices have many uses and are invaluable on such occasions). The Darcy's in their garden corner reluctantly separated. Mr. Bennet, who was vastly amused by the events outside and within, chuckled delightedly.
When the reddened Colonel finally reappeared alone and bearing the imprint of a sharpened parasol on his clothing, the sudden silence of the room was more condemning than the quiet murmurs that had preceded it. Mr. Bennet however was not so reticent, for such an opportunity for amusement must not be allowed to escape untouched. "I must say Colonel Fitzwilliam, that was a rather fine display of English military prowess. You left yourself wide open for attack with absolutely no room for retreat."
The Colonel blushed even redder, looked determinedly at the floor and returned silently to his seat.
Darcy smiled, for not being a man who sought vengeance when wronged, he was a strong believer in natural justice. Thus he felt all the rightness of his cousin suffering under Miss Bingley's attentions, as penance for what he considered to be the unpardonable crime of admiring his wife.
Mr. Collins knew not what to do, and danced about dabbing his handkerchief over his lip. It was quite obvious that Lady Catherine was displeased, and he himself needed the reassurance of being able to reassure her. But she was at that moment berating Miss Bingley on the lawn. He contented himself with fawning attentions to his reluctant wife.
It was only a very short time later that Mr. Darcy managed to convince his wife to depart. Speeches aside, he really felt that after the events of the day very little needed to be said. Elizabeth could not disagree. She could do little but marvel at the fact that throughout all this adversity, Mr. Bingley and Jane managed to remain complacently agreeable. Her sister truly deserved canonisation.
Now safely on the road to London, Mrs. Darcy leaned back against her husband's shoulder and sighed with contentment.
"There is one consolation that I have from the days events Mr. Darcy, and that is the satisfaction of knowing that your family has outdone my own in scandal, diversion and offensive behaviour."
He smiled with genuine amusement as he looked at her. "It may well be true Elizabeth but I don't believe that you can claim any satisfaction from this knowledge."
"Why ever not?" she exclaimed.
He rubbed his hand lightly down her arm and whispered in her ear, "If you had not forgotten, we did marry this morning and they are now your family also. How do you like your new Aunt?"
Posted on Sunday, June 16, 2002
Following the event of his wedding and subsequent celebrations, we would quite naturally assume that Mr. Darcy would be interested in no entertainments except those that a private bedroom could afford. One should never make assumptions. For upon reaching the sanctuary of his London townhouse and consuming a light supper in relative silence, instead of indulging those interests, he asked his wife to play for him. She of course obliged him, more than a little surprised by the request.
If Mrs. Darcy had expected a passive audience, she would have been sadly disappointed. For instead of sitting sedately in enraptured silence (which Elizabeth had always wondered about his ability to do given her level of expertise on the instrument), he chose to pace. He stood before the piano, much as he had done at Rosings, and admired her countenance. He stood behind her and admired her fingering. He took another angle again and admired the aspect of her profile.
At no time did he outwardly appreciate her performance, nor look her in the eye. She began to wonder if he was listening at all, for with such pacing about, although she would never admit to being intimidated, she did make several clanking mistakes. Given his appreciation of perfection in performance, and just about everything else, she was most surprised to find that her singularly poor rendition of Mozart had no effect at all on his countenance.
She was correct in her assumptions. He was not listening. As much as he appreciated her performance, his mind was too preoccupied to pay attention to the sound that reached his ears. His eyes were appreciative of her performance at least, for he paid particular attention to the way her fingers caressed the keys, with a view to those same fingers caressing himself very soon. The gentle flush that spread across her cheeks with the effort of her performance brought to mind an anticipation of a rather different sort of flush after a particularly different exertion of effort.
He began to wonder what odd caprice had inclined him to request a performance at all. He had been impatient for her private attention all day, and now she was here in his house, they were quite alone, and it was not an inappropriate time for retiring. It was his inclination alone that awaited their assignation, and he marvelled at such hesitation, when until then his driving purpose had been to simply get her to his bedroom.
Elizabeth was no less mystified, for he had made his desires quite clear to her during the day, several times, and she had been hardly less forthcoming. She began to wonder in fact if her power over him had suddenly come to an abrupt end with the realisation of all his wishes. Had Miss Bingley been right after all? Had he only pursued her because she refused him and now that she was his in truth, he had lost interest? She was here in his house, they were married, and they were quite alone. What was he waiting for? Was he reconsidering the wisdom of his actions? Was he disappointed by her? Was he considering his husbandly duties?
When she finished her piece, she looked up at him, such was necessary for he was by now standing over her, quite closely, and looking determinedly at the bodice of her gown. He did not appear to have noticed that she had finished playing and the intensity of his look surprised her. She touched her hand to his leg and said his name, to which he jumped in surprise, and finally brought his eyes to meet hers. She could not help but feel a quiver of excitement at what she saw in them. It was not difficult to guess the direction of his thoughts and that now familiar look of desire pervaded them with an almost frightening intensity. It was quite apparent that her power over him had not subsided and on seeing it so obviously displayed she gained considerable reassurance. As to his hesitation, well if he did not have the inclination, after giving her such a look, then she certainly did. Standing, she put her arm in his and led him from the room and up the stairs. They parted at her bedchamber and he went on to his own, with no words spoken between them.
As he reflected in his own bedchamber, Darcy could only attribute such reticence to his desire of not wanting to rush the events of the evening. This was the most important night of his life after all, and one that had been much anticipated. Naturally he wanted to savour it, he wanted to be able to remember it favourably, he wanted a relaxed mood. He did not want it over with in five minutes. He definitely did not want a quick and clumsy fumble between the sheets. Having quite shamefully indulged himself during the day, and now with free reign to unleash all his passions, it was very tempting to simply rush in. Such hasty behaviour would be disastrous he knew, something that Bingley might do. And whilst Jane might accept such behaviour, he was quite certain that Elizabeth would not. He was painfully aware that the events of this evening would set the tone for any future intimacy with his wife and with that thought in mind, he determined that even if it killed him, he would go slowly and act in a manner that would please his wife.
But this was a resolution easier decided than adhered to, for his mind was not easy. Once his valet had removed half his clothes, leaving only the bare basics, he dismissed him and sat in ponderous silence, trying to calm his thoughts about what was to come. Indeed, if after watching her play for half an hour he found himself in his current state, how was he to control himself when he saw her in her night-clothes, in his room, and in his bed?
Such feelings, he knew, could not be attributed to nervousness, for thankfully having endured enough of that affliction earlier that day he was at least spared that injustice on his wedding night. His present affliction was certain eagerness, and an anticipation of pleasure, which he sincerely hoped would not manifest itself in any premature enjoyment of connubial pleasures. At the moment such a circumstance was entirely possible. Careful control was required to ensure it didn't.
At Netherfield the story was quite different, for having remained supremely calm and composed throughout the ceremony and consequent celebrations, Mr. Bingley now found that he was unaccountably nervous. It had been many months since he had first begun to anticipate the pleasures of his wedding night, but it had been no more than half a day since he had first considered the logistics of the matter. Such contemplation had not produced a happy result. For whilst it was easy to envisage the pleasure that would be achieved once the event took place, it was at that moment quite impossible to imagine how he was ever going to get to that point.
His nervousness was increased by the certain knowledge that Darcy would not be suffering the same, for having witnessed the amorous affections of that gentleman and his wife that very afternoon, it had become quite obvious that his friend had at least laid the groundwork. But that was typical Darcy, always prepared. The idea had not even occurred to him, and having progressed no further than the occasional kiss of Jane's hand, he now realised that he had made a major blunder in being so reticent. At the time he had not considered it quite right to subject her to anything more prior to the exchange of vows, and indeed it was certainly not acceptable to do so. Darcy had apparently chosen to ignore such rules for his own benefit, and by his adherence to the same he found himself forced into a rather untenable position.
How was he to approach her? what should he say? How should he behave? It seemed a bit forward to be rushing straight in and jumping into bed. I mean they had not even kissed as yet. Why were there such ridiculous rules about appropriate behaviour prior to marrying.? I mean really, just how was one expected to go from discreet hand holding to ultimate congress in one evening without making a complete hash of it? Why did he never think of these things in advance?
Out of habit, his mind strayed down a path that had served him quite well in the past. Whenever he felt himself to be in doubt as to a course of action, he found it unaccountably useful to be able to emulate another's behaviour. To this end he considered his very limited acquaintance of married men. Two in total, one of which was a very tenuous link at that. Hurst and Wickham. Hmmm, not very good role models, still worth considering at least.
Hurst. Even with his limited experience, he doubted that over-indulgence and then loss of consciousness would produce the desired result without severely offending his wife in some way. Besides it was a little late to be getting in his cups. George Wickham, well there was a man who would certainly never have suffered nervousness on his wedding night. His seduction had occurred long before the vows.
He continued in his pacing contemplation while he considered his shortening supply of options. Such was his worry over the matter, that even though the time was upon him, he continued to delay. It was incredibly annoying that after several months of anticipation he should now feel unequal to confronting his wife, for this confounded nervousness was seriously threatening to forestall all activity in his nether regions. He certainly hoped Darcy had some idea, for at that moment he felt entirely clueless. But then Darcy was just always that little bit more capable. He would never be nervous on his wedding night. Suddenly an idea came from nowhere.
Jane of course, sat waiting in her room, completely oblivious to the struggles of her husband. She was not nervous, for she was assured of his affection for her and she trusted that he knew what he was doing. How could anything go wrong? After such a long day she was tired though. At that moment she longed for nothing but the comfort of her husband's presence and a good night's sleep.
She was very glad that the wedding was finally over, for even her dear mother and Aunt Phillips had managed to become a little tiresome. They meant well and she knew in her heart that she was being ungenerous in not listening to their kind, well-meaning advice, but it simply made her anxious about her wedding night, when she knew she had no reason to be. Even Mrs. Hurst had been eager to offer some tips, and whilst appreciative of her advice, she very much doubted whether the liberal supply of wine and spirits would be appropriate on such an occasion.
She almost felt guilty at such ingratitude, for poor Lizzy had suffered much worse at the hands of Mr. Darcy's aunt. She wondered how her poor sister was feeling, for after such a long day and the trip to London, they would no doubt be both too tired for enjoying their wedding night. Mr. Darcy had seemed very eager too, in his anticipation. Several times she had noticed him kissing or holding her sister a little too affectionately. She was very glad that Charles was not so forward, for poor Lizzy must be quite frightened.
What a shame for them both to have to endure such a long day. Perhaps they should have stayed the night at Netherfield and they might have been able to stay for the whole wedding breakfast and then been at leisure to enjoy their evening as well. As it was they had been forced to race off to reach London by dark, missing the wedding speeches and the opportunity to farewell their guests. Such a pity that Mr. Darcy's horses were so slow. She had understood from Charles that he was normally very attentive to those sorts of things too, but today of all days they had been the cause of a late arrival and early departure. But dear Lizzy had borne the disappointment of having to leave early very well, indeed she hardly seemed upset at all.
If Elizabeth had realised the train of her sister's thoughts, she probably could have assured her that all worry on her behalf was unnecessary. Mrs. Darcy, of course was not afraid, but conversely she could not say either that she was completely at ease. And whilst it may be a truth universally acknowledged that a bride should be nervous on her wedding night, Elizabeth's distress stemmed not from fear of her husband, or what he would do to her, but from the rather nasty effects of gross over-instruction. Whilst she had always intended to let her husband take the lead in these matters (for she did still firmly believed it was his place and no-one else's to provide her lessons) she could not help the little reminders that popped into her head of what she must not do. Lady Catherine just had that affect. She sincerely hoped that such reminders did not pop-up at critical moments.
Aside from this rather inconvenient problem, she was still struggling to comprehend how her husband's affections could fit into the restrictive code that had been dictated by Lady Catherine and her mother. With the way he had just looked at her, she could not see how it was to be accomplished. How could a man of such passion and intensity content himself with such a detached engagement? How was he to go from being the ardent lover that he had very recently become to a husband who did his duty to provide an heir? In her own mind it was not possible and she sincerely hoped that it was not his intention. But how could both Lady Catherine and her mother be wrong? Was Mr. Darcy even aware of what was expected?
She need have no fear on that head. Mr. Darcy was well aware of the rules of this particular engagement. Even if he had not happened to overhear his Aunt's instruction to his wife earlier that day, he already knew what was required. Now he simply had the dissatisfaction of knowing that his wife did also.
The late Mr. Darcy, always attentive to all parts of his son's education, had been quite thorough on the point of dealing with one's wife. In matters conjugal, his instruction had been detailed and quite rigid. At the time, he had not questioned these instructions, for they seemed to be of a piece with the commonly accepted rules of society. He had no reason to think that behaviour behind a bedroom door should be any different to that in a drawing room. And never having been in love, it was quite natural that he should accept this advice, his father was never wrong. Indeed, when he had considered himself with a wife, he had imagined that their intimacy would not go beyond the limits of the commonly accepted strictures.
But that was before he met Elizabeth.
With both having been advised in a similar fashion, one would expect it to be a hopeless case. But Darcy had no intention of adhering to these rules, for he knew that when it came to the point he would be incapable of such detachment. Indeed, he had already gone well beyond it in their assignations thus far. He fully intended to continue on the course that he had charted, and he very much hoped that Elizabeth would continue in the same manner she had employed until that point.
And he sincerely believed that he had good reason to support that hope. The lady herself had made it quite clear that she did not intend for him to restrain his affections in any way, and she had actually stated that she liked his 'ungentlemanly' behaviour. Thus he hazarded a guess that she would not be embarrassed by greater intimacy, nor would she be offended by his attempts to achieve it. She had not been offended at all by his activities in her father's library, she had in fact been a very willing accomplice. What had her father said? Adventurous. Yes that gave him ample reason to be hopeful.
Such were their thoughts as they prepared for the night to come. Elizabeth, silently contemplating whilst the maid removed the numerous pins from her hair, Darcy alone in his room trying to regain some control over his simmering passions. He was not yet ready in his own mind, but he knew Elizabeth would be soon, and he could not keep her waiting.
Moments later when her maid departed for the evening, Elizabeth was ready and was now left alone to wait, wearing nothing but the rather revealing night-gown that her mother had insisted on ('if you look nice he will not be disappointed Lizzy"). She could not even begin to comprehend the irrationality of that comment. Jane may have more luck with this logic in dealing with her dear, but easily pleased, Mr. Bingley, she had no doubt that Mr. Darcy might require something more substantial to meet his exacting requirements. Given her very recent knowledge of his passionate nature, she was in fact quite certain that while a revealing nightgown might provide some temporary amusement, it would only go so far in attempting to please a man of such demanding affections. If she had any doubts as to the effectiveness of such a plan, she need only look at her own parents marriage, for she suspected that however satisfying her father had found his wedding night, he had been later disappointed by the reality of his wife. It seemed her mother had conveniently overlooked this fact.
Never having been very adept at waiting, it was only a few minutes later that Elizabeth's impatience began to show. She paced as she tried to distract her thoughts, but her mind could never get far from the reality of the situation and the more unpleasant parts of Lady Catherine's lecture. What on earth was her husband doing? He was taking an uncommonly long time. Surely it could not take him so long to get undressed, but then he had appeared to be quite at leisure to take his time earlier. Five more minutes, he could not need longer than that. Bored and impatient, she employed all those little distractionary activities, which soothe an unsettled mind. She paced, she examined her hair, she counted the circular patterns on the carpet, she studied the cornice work on the ceiling. She looked at the floor again with a blush. There would be ample time for becoming acquainted with her husband's cornice work very shortly.
Back at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley had finally gathered the courage to enter his wife's room. He did so in an unusually determined manner. His wife, who was already in bed, smiled in greeting, a welcome which he barely acknowledged with an unsmiling nod. He strode to the fire and quite forcefully disturbed the careful arrangement of logs with the poker, almost extinguishing the blaze in the process. He strode to the window and looked out into the darkness below, pausing for what he thought to be an appropriate length of time, before turning and looking unsmilingly at his wife again. He was desperately trying to evince some element of smouldering passion into his countenance, but was failing badly. Jane looked quite confused, but then smiled tentatively at him. His instinct was to smile back in reassurance, but he willed his mouth to stay still. Control, he needed to keep control. It was his only hope.
After some moments of silence his wife spoke
"What is the matter Charles, forgive me for saying it but you are behaving in a rather odd manner," she asked in concern.
"Am I," he replied coolly.
Jane looked at him with a mixture of anguish and confusion, and he began to feel some doubts as to the wisdom of his plan. He might have managed to remove his nervousness and appear with an air of confidence, but he had to admit that it was having some rather unpleasant side affects. Jane looked very unhappy, and he actually felt within himself that he was not quite up to keeping this pretence going when it came to physical contact with his wife. From what little he could see of her nightgown, it left nothing to the imagination, and he was certain that closer inspection would remove any control he might be assuming.
Perhaps it was time to rethink. Actually it was bloody hard pretending to act like Darcy anyway. The man might be a rock when it came to control but all this thinking and trying not to smile was making his head hurt. How on earth did the man manage to function during the day? It actually took quite a bit of effort to be disagreeable.
His plan might have worked, if he had been dealing with a different woman. For as we well know, Jane was not Elizabeth, and the distinction at that point was as great as it ever would be. While Elizabeth would not have been afraid to approach him, or at least meet him half way, the idea did not even enter Jane's head. For Jane, who was all that was good and obedient, who had listened diligently to her mothers somewhat confusing lecture, knew her place, and her place was in the bed, waiting for her husband to come to her. At that same moment however, her sister Elizabeth who had grown tired of waiting, was just entering her husband's chamber....
Beginning to doubt his intentions, Elizabeth had taken the initiative. Her soft knock was met with a distinct command to 'enter', which she did without hesitation. Closing the door behind her, she could not help but admire the furnishings of the room, primarily the four-poster bed which dominated it, so much so that she almost missed the presence of her husband sitting in a wing chair beside it. She could not long forget his existence though, and when she turned to look at him, the prospect he presented rendered her quite breathless. His coat, jacket and necktie had been removed and his shirt opened to reveal his neck and upper chest. Why such a display should have such an effect she had no idea, for she had seen his bare neck before when they had first met at Pemberley, by the lake. But she began to think this had been a complete figment of her imagination, a little girlish fantasy she had conjured to flatteringly portray the owner of that stunning establishment in a more amiable light. For whilst she had admired his informal attire on that day, it had not had anywhere near the effect that it was having now. Indeed if he had truly been wearing a dripping wet, diaphanous shirt, her reaction would have most likely been similar to what it was now. It was just as likely that he had appeared rather unexpectedly before her fully dressed and her mind had filled in the details.
Either way the look in his eyes now was certainly not what it had been on that day, for then he had expressed only surprise, now he appeared to be trying to see through her night-gown. His gaze lingered over her body, before examining her bare toes and then returning to her face. He did not meet her eyes however, he simply stared at her lips before wetting his own. Maybe her mother was right after all.
Mr. Darcy was having difficulties, for having imagined her so many times in such a state he found it unaccountable that his imagination had not got anywhere near close to the vision that she presented. He had not imagined that her night-gown would be as sheer as it was, and whilst he had imagined this moment several times (several thousand if he was being truthful) it had not prepared him for the sight of Elizabeth standing bare-foot before him in a figure-hugging, near diaphanous gown. How was a man to simply do his duty when such temptation was offered?
Elizabeth could stand it no longer. Whilst her husband apparently was quite content to sit calmly and look, her agitation was increasing by the minute. She was at a loss to account for such reluctance, for at several times during the last few days she had got the rather distinct impression that he was quite impatient for this moment. She sighed in exasperation.
"Whilst I do not presume to be an expert on such matters Mr. Darcy, I suspect that we are supposed to do a little more than stare at each other."
He paused for some minutes before responding, making Elizabeth think that perhaps he was more inclined to sit and stare.
"You are right of course Elizabeth, but I find that I can admire you much better from my seat."
She looked at him and could not help but smile, remembering that long ago evening at Netherfield when he had so brazenly declared his desire to admire their figures while the two ladies took a turn about the room, and then proceeded to ignore Miss Bingley completely. How had she ever failed to perceive his interest in her? And as she looked at him with affection, she could not account for the fact that she had ever disliked him, or thought him not handsome for that matter. He did in fact look quite devastating at the moment with his shirt undone and a very devious smile on his face. She did not like to think of herself as lacking in intelligence but there were times when she was uncommonly stupid.
"Besides that I find it difficult to be intimate with a wife who insists on calling me Mr. Darcy in the bedroom," he continued with mock seriousness.
"And by this I suppose you are inferring that you would like me to call you something else?" she replied in the same manner
"Yes."
"Very well, shall I call you Sir?" she asked
"I think not."
"Fitzwilliam?"
"My Aunt quite often calls me that when she is displeased."
"I shall remember that Mr. Darcy," she replied deviously
"Husband?"
"Definitely not."
During this little exchange she had been taking slow and even steps towards him, trying to use the distraction of their conversation to breach the distance between them, for it was quite apparent that her husband was determined not to move from his seat. About halfway across the room however, she noticed that her seemingly inconsequential actions were having a rather interesting effect on his countenance. He was in fact now twisting the ring on his finger quite determinedly and biting his lower lip. It would seem that her husband was not as calm as he would like her to think. Her ability to provoke such a reaction emboldened her somewhat, going a fair way to removing most of her nervousness, and so as she stood directly before him she placed her hands on the armrests of the chair and leant down to whisper in his ear.
"Shall it be William then or Will?"
She received no answer except a sharp intake of breath. For along with the intimacy of feeling her warm breath on his neck, by leaning over him in such a way, she had just provided a very clear and uninterrupted view of what little her nightdress was concealing. She did not move, for she was still waiting for an answer, nor did he, as he had quite forgotten that there was ever a question. Thus they remained not touching, but suspended, each waiting for the other to do something. With a view such as he had, Darcy could have quite happily stayed there forever. He knew he wanted to touch her, but felt almost afraid that if he did at that moment he would be unable to restrain his desires. In short, if he had felt less he may have been able to do more.
Drawing back slightly Elizabeth looked into his eyes, and unable to resist the temptation, touched her lips very lightly to his. It was enough to disturb his carefully held control. Placing a hand on the back of her neck he unhesitatingly parted his lips and drew her back to him with the intention of tasting all of the passion that she had to offer, a demand that she met most willingly. With such ready acquiescence to his kiss, any remnants of control he might have been holding onto simply disappeared. He kissed her again and allowed his hands the freedom to caress the soft skin of her neck, her shoulders and then slowly continued his exploration until he slipped his hand inside the bodice of her nightgown. Unable to resist the temptation, and emboldened by his success thus far, he placed his hand lightly over that which his eyes had just feasted on. Elizabeth gasped at the intensely pleasurable sensations created by his hands, and although surprised by the intimacy of his caress, did not attempt to stop him. For it was at that exact moment all of her doubts were answered. He would not be restrained, he would not adhere to the rules, and she thanked God that it was so. Darcy was no less relieved.
Back at Netherfield, matters had taken a slight turn. Mr. Bingley having decided that behaving in the manner of his friend was probably doing more harm than good, gave up the pretence entirely. Thus in command of his own sensibilities again, and free to act as he normally did, he rushed to the side of the bed and began to plant delicate kisses on his wife's hand. When he looked up she was blushing quite becomingly with her eyes cast down. He was momentarily caught by her beauty (not to mention her night-gown), and continued his attentions with increased ardour, moving his kisses from her hand, slowly up her arm until he had reached her elbow. At this point she gasped, and Bingley, ever alert to the prospect of causing discomfort, ceased his attentions and drew back to look at her. Her face was quite flushed and she would not meet his eye directly.
It was at that exact moment that he was faced with the awful truth. For the realisation of just what had prompted such embarrassment led to the equally disturbing realisation of just how far he had yet to go to reach that point of intimacy which lay at the heart of the matter. If she was blushing when he kissed her hand, what would be her reaction to the lifting of her nightgown, or the intimacy of the act that followed for that matter. He closed his eyes in frustration and tried to calm his thoughts. He would have to go slowly, he would have to be gentle.
But it was all too late for such good intentions, for having kept himself under such careful control, and now finding himself at the point of physical contact with his wife, he could not wait. All his worry and nervousness had disappeared, and his body cried out for satisfaction. So rather than trying to formulate a way in which to gradually reassure his wife and ease into the intimacy, he dived in.
He grasped her arms and pulled her towards him, hugging her fiercely against his chest, he planted small and urgent kisses across her face and then eventually on her lips. He stroked his hands up and down her back, until he could control himself no longer. Climbing under the counterpane, he sought the bottom of her gown, but his urgency created confusion and he became lost between the voluminous bedding and their respective night attire. Each time he thought he had grasped his prize, he found only frustration as he clasped in his fevered hand a slip of sheet, or a handful of his own nightgown. In his urgency he became panicked and poor Jane feared for her ability to stay in the bed with such violent jostling about. She was desperately trying to be accommodating, but her husband was making it most difficult with such pulling and tumbling of the bedding. At one point he pulled the sheet so hard in passion induced frustration that she actually felt the bedding move beneath her, and herself tipping precariously toward the floor. She was saved at the last moment as he finally grasped his prize and dragged her back across the bed until she was in his arms again.
What followed could only be described as a very quick and very clumsy fumble between the sheets, and there is little point in graphically describing such an ignominious event. For Mr. Bingley upon reaching the point of readiness, had found it only a very short step to the point of ultimate satisfaction. While he did admit that he had been hasty and had not handled the matter in the smoothest fashion, the deed was done and there would be plenty of time to overcome his wife's tender sensibilities in the future. His wife for that matter, found the event a little less exciting than her husband. She lay in bewildered discomfort, surprised by both the rapidity of the event and confused by her husband's actions preceding it.
It is not the intention of this work to give a long and graphically detailed account of the activities in Mr. Darcy's bedroom that night either (for that you will have to go elsewhere). Suffice it to say that the morning after the night before, Mrs. Darcy was extremely satisfied with her husband and Mr. Darcy was even more enamoured of his wife. To the great relief of both, the advice of Mrs. Bennet and Lady Catherine proved to be either largely irrelevant or completely wrong.
Elizabeth was able to consider with no small degree of satisfaction exactly how wrong Lady Catherine had been. It was very fortunate that although she had been so forcefully advised in theory the previous day, she had a husband who was just as diligent in proving in practice how truly wrong these theories were.
As Elizabeth had quite naturally shared some of these reflections with her husband, she was happy to find that he was very satisfied with her view of the matter, and did in fact seem most amused at Lady Catherine's many errors. Being a man who does not care for excess verbosity, his sole reflection on her analysis was as follows.
"If that is her theory on conjugal matters then one can hardly be surprised at the result."
Elizabeth presumed this was a reference to the sole prodigy of Lady Catherine and Sir Louis, his very sickly cousin Anne. This was not in fact exactly what he meant, for he would not cast aspersions on his cousin's uncertain constitution. He was actually referring to the fact that Lady Catherine's husband, Sir Louis De Bourgh, had died an early death after suffering a long and painful battle against a disease that was more common among sailors and tavern wenches than amongst the higher members of society. It would seem that however attentive his Aunt had been to many things, she apparently had not been very attentive to holding her husband's affections. But then it was unlikely that she had been inconvenienced by his death anyway, so it was of little matter.
So at the end of the day, and with such a comparison of events before us, it is only logical that the performance of the respective parties be considered. We may well presume that while Mr. Bingley might have taken pride in his horses being the fastest in getting to Longbourn earlier that day, he probably would have claimed similar credit also, for the fact that the consummation of his marriage was achieved that much earlier than his friends. Mr. Darcy would have quite gladly and graciously conceded this victory of course, for it was a race he had absolutely no desire to win..
For their wives there was satisfaction of a different kind with regards to the relative performance of their husbands. Whilst Jane was affectionately appreciative of her husband's efforts to please, Elizabeth was quite frankly in awe of hers. Had Jane needed consolation for anything she felt might be lacking, she might have contented herself with the knowledge that she had a far more restful night than her sister, but luckily Elizabeth did not feel at all inconvenienced by the deprivation of sleep.
And finally, as to the unresolved matter of what Mrs. Darcy was to call her husband, it was resolved quite unexpectedly. Of course as Master of Pemberley he was Mr. Darcy, as a husband he was William, but in moments of intimacy she found herself several times unable to utter anything but Will, which by default became her name of choice. When she was annoyed with him it was not uncommon for her to call him Fitzwilliam, which naturally annoyed him also. Her husband of course undertook a similar naming policy, but refused to select a name with which to annoy her, for there are some things a wife can get away with that a sensible husband would not dare attempt. It was a system that he found to be unaccountably useful. For whenever she addressed him as Will, he knew his presence was required above stairs, similarly Mrs. Darcy knew that when she was Lizzy her hair would need to be re-done (was that why married women wore caps???). So it became that they never needed to discuss the weather again, although they could not deny some pleasure in reminiscing on the odd rainy day at Pemberley.