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Chapter 14: Prelude To A Wedding
Arthur Warring, the sixth Earl of Paxton, was in grand mood. He was an amicable man by nature, and enjoyed the company of people. His health, however, had not been good - a combination of old age, gross weight and chronic gout - and he had spent most of his time on his vast estate in Wessex since his journey to Derbyshire last November. His Countess, fortunately, left him in peace as she returned to London immediately after the Darcys' and Bingleys' Anniversary Ball to spend the winter in the comfort of her magnificent mansion at Berkeley Square. Mrs. Hurst - her only sister and loyal companion - was well pleased. There was nothing more that Mrs. Hurst enjoyed than to help her sister Caroline spend the Paxton gold. Mr. Hurst, whose main passion in life was to be as idle as possible, looked forward to enjoy the finest food and wine for the duration.
The impending marriage of his wife's niece Margaret Bingley to a promising young MP of a highly respected family was a worthy cause for Lord Paxton to rouse himself out of his seclusion in Wessex to journey to London shortly after Easter. The joyous occasion, in fact, induced Lord Paxton to insist upon hosting a Ball at Paxton Hall in honour of the newlyweds. No expenses would be spared, and Lord Paxton's guest lists would include the crème de la crème of Society.
Lady Paxton, ever thrilled to be at the center of attention, convinced the betrothed couple that having a celebratory Wedding Ball in the same evening following the wedding and the traditional wedding breakfast would set a new fashionable trend for the ton. Lady Paxton was so persuasive and insistence that Margaret and her fiancé agreed to the scheme, and her ladyship set about to plan one of the grandest events of the Season.
The Paxton Hall at Berkeley Square was built on a palatial scale. Lady Paxton smiled with self-satisfaction, that her home eclipsed most of the grand homes in London - even Mr. Darcy's magnificent house at Grosvenor Square paled in comparison to Paxton Hall. Thus, it was in such a merry mood that Lady Paxton ordered a refurbishment of the main salons. The service of Mr. William Wilkins was retained for such a purpose. Mr. Wilkins's recent triumph was his design of the new National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. Lady Paxton knew that her husband cared not for the added expenses or the cost of extra workers required for such undertaking to be completed at such relatively short notice. If she were pleased, then the old earl would gladly open his purse strings! Completely new liveries for the servants, and extra cases of the finest French champagne were ordered as well.
It was during moments such as these that Lady Paxton was content with her aged and gouty husband. Lord Paxton never worried about money matters - his vaults of gold could sustain much more extravagant whims that hers. Indeed, he often seemed rather pleased that she was occupied with various schemes so that he would be left alone in his library to enjoy his books. What was it about books that could hold such lasting fascination wondered Lady Paxton? She herself could hardly abide by them - many of them were so long, dull, and tedious - especially the ones enjoyed by Mr. Darcy, as she recalled.
The only dark cloud was her son William. Lady Paxton only prayed that he would be home in time for the Wedding Ball itself - the young vogue was having too grand of a time in Paris for the past few months, and had yet to respond to her many stern entreaties to return home to England. When she made the complaint to her aged husband, he placidly remarked that their son would be home soon - if only to replenish his empty pockets.
Lord Paxton knew how to yield his power of control over his son's purse strings.
At Mr. Charles Bingley's townhouse on Upper Grosvenor Street, the mad flurries of wedding preparations continued unabated. Mrs. Bingley had her hands quite filled with her demanding mother Mrs. Bennet, her boisterous sister Lydia, and her excitable niece Georgette Wickham. Consequently, she found herself suffering from severe headaches of late.
Mrs. Bennet, in particular, had been very agitated when the affianced couple happily named May 26 as the date of their wedding. She made tremendous fuss over the old proverb - "Marry in May and rue the day" - as well as a popular rhyme of a wedding on Saturday meant "no luck at al!" Mrs. Bingley, habitually tranquil and optimistic, became extremely worried over the possibilities of such bad omens as well. June, being the month named after Juno, Roman goddess of marriage, was deemed the best month to marry.
In his efforts to overcome such superstitions, Anthony Knightley confidently proclaimed that May 26th was the feast day of St. Augustine of Canterbury, who would surely intercede more effectively on their behalf than any pagan goddess of old! Furthermore, he and his sweet Margaret would have such a blissful marriage that the admiring multitude would find it fashionable to wed on Saturdays and in the month of May as well!
In the end, however, steep adherence to traditions won the debate. No one wished to tempt Fate too blatantly, and certainly not on the most important day of a young woman's life! A new date - the fifth of June - was promptly chosen, and as Tuesday was believed to be a day "for wealth," Mrs. Bennet was very well pleased indeed!
It was a blessing that the bride-to-be had retained her tranquility throughout these many months in London. Isabella and Emily had been most helpful in every task they did to aid their mother as well. Otherwise, Mrs. Bingley would have fallen into a swoon with all her worries.
The arrival of Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy in London two days after Easter was the answer to Mrs. Bingley's prayers. She had hastened from Kent as soon as her family's annual obligatory visit to Rosings was fulfilled.
Mrs. Darcy, capable and calmly assertive even in a whirlwind, provided Mrs. Bingley with the best remedy for her severe headaches. Mrs. Darcy took one look at her beloved sister Jane, and promptly sent her to her bedchamber for a soothing herbal bath, and prescribed complete bed rest until the wedding day. Meals would be sent to her suite upstairs. Mrs. Bingley was to concern herself only with taking walks for fresh air and exercise, outings for her own enjoyment, and attending the various celebratory soirees hosted by the Knightleys prior to the wedding. All other matters were to be directed to Mrs. Darcy, who had moved in to the Bingley household for the time being.
"My dearest Jane, today is only April 17th. We still have eight weeks left to prepare for the wedding!" said Mrs. Darcy reassuringly.
"I want you to relax! Spend time with your long-suffering husband! Poor Bingley! With our mama being so agitated and vexing, I doubt if Bingley has had your attention for more than a few moments each day!"
"You are right, Lizzy," sighed Jane, "I have neglected poor Charles!"
"Off with you then," laughed Mrs. Darcy, "and take the frown off his face. He should be blithe and bonny - a forlorn look does not become him!"
In the hectic weeks that followed, Mrs. Darcy was thankful that her dear husband was taking a detour north to inspect their Ridgemont mine. Despite of her unhappiness at being away from him, she nevertheless thought it fortunate that he did not plan to arrive in London until the eve of the wedding. She would be trying his patient forbearance if she had to spend her nights with the Bingleys, and he alone at their own townhouse in Grosvenor Square. The two townhouses were within easy walking distance from each other, but Mr. Darcy would have considered the bedchamber next door too far away from his dearest wife.
She smiled at the recollection of how she had once wished never to see Fitzwilliam Darcy again! Those bygone days seemed to belong to a different lifetime!
The long journey from the Ridgemont mine in Northumberland to London allowed Mr. Darcy and his son ample time to enjoy each other's company. They traveled southbound at a leisurely pace, stopping at many historical sites and points of interest along the way, revisiting familiar sights as well as new ones. The added luxury of having their own reliable teams of carriage horses stabled at various carriage stops between Derbyshire and London made the latter part of their journey safer and more comfortable.
Alexander, in particular, took advantage of every moment of being in his father's company. There was no other man whom he admired more, and he often felt, with justification, that the wisdom and practical sense he gained from his own father exceeded the sum of his learning at Eton and Cambridge.
Thus, Alexander talked incessantly during their journey, often with such enthusiasm, that it caused Mr. Darcy to smile broadly and voiced his astonishment aloud.
"You have changed, my dear son,' remarked Mr. Darcy, "for I have never seen you so animated before!"
"Have I?" replied Alexander with a bemused smile. "Am I more like my sister Lizzy now?"
"Well, not as charming and vivacious, to be sure," laughed Mr. Darcy, "but certainly far less taciturn than you have ever been! I dare say you have spoken more words these past few days than you had sometimes uttered for an entire summer when you were home from Cambridge!"
"I simply lacked the inclination to speak unless it was absolutely necessary," conceded Alexander. "I have learned, however, from my experience at Ridgemont, that clear communication is vital. My quiet brooding nature was mistaken for stern reproach, and I must have frightened quite a few children before I finally gained their friendship and trust!"
"Well, I learned a similar lesson from your dear mother a long time ago," confessed Mr. Darcy. "She certainly taught me to be more lively!"
The talk of such a splendid lady naturally brought to mind the image of another precious one. Alexander was the first to broach the subject.
"James wrote to me. I am glad that he and Isabella have made a perfect reconciliation."
"I have been reassured by James as well,' nodded Mr. Darcy. "We were with the Bingleys for a family visit before they left for London to prepare for Margaret's wedding. James and Isabella were very cordial with each other, but they did not make any formal announcement."
"One can safely presume that such announcement would be forthcoming very soon," remarked Alexander. "James hinted as much in his letter." He did not elaborate to his father, however, the degree of happiness James had expressed himself in his correspondence.
After a thoughtful pause, Mr. Darcy said, "Alexander, I think you should stay in Town longer this summer - to enjoy yourself with your old chums from school, and to engage yourself in London's social life a bit more! I know your weariness at being regarded as some great prize to be won whenever you enter an elegant drawing room or Almack's Assembly Rooms - I had to brave through similar tortures myself when I was your age - but you should not live like a recluse! You are only four and twenty, and this Season being Her Majesty's Coronation should be a memorable one in London. I think Jack Goodwin is very capable of taking care of Ridgemont for a month or two. There is no dire need for you to go back to Ridgemont immediately after the wedding."
Alexander received his father's words silently. He toyed with his signet ring, and tried to sort out his feelings. His lively conversations with his father had obscured his inward apprehension. In truth, he dreaded their impending arrival in London. He was eager to see his beloved family, of course, as he had not seen them since January. The main reason of his anxiety was Isabella Bingley. He doubted if he could keep his own vow to stay away from her during his stay in London, and he was also uncertain of the degree of tolerance his brother James would bear if he managed to have a few precious moment of being alone in Isabella's company. He only hoped for a kind word or a simple smile from Isabella to soothe his ragged soul - he did not wish for anything beyond which might entice him into any false hopes or wild dreams. He certainly did not want to risk any new misunderstanding with James.
Mr. Darcy could well guess his son's private thoughts. Did he himself not ride back to Longbourn with Charles Bingley almost six and twenty years ago, knowing that his future hung in the balance and that his true happiness was completely in the hands of Miss Elizabeth Bennet? There were formidable obstacles in his way, but none were as daunting as the major one Alexander was facing now. Mr. Darcy felt tremendous admiration for his son: he doubted if he himself could have been so noble and self-sacrificing to step aside for a brother to win the heart of the woman he loved beyond measure . . .
Since they would travel through Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy declared that they should attend church service for Pentecost Sunday at Longbourn Church. Their Bennet relations and many old acquaintances were already in London - Margaret wedding was but two days away - but Mr. Darcy wished to pay his respects to his late father-in-law.
As he laid a fresh bouquet of flowers at Mr. Bennet's grave, he felt a dull pain in his heart. Five years had not quite heal the sense of loss.
"I wished that your late grandfather Bennet - indeed, your late Darcy grandparents as well - could see you now, my dear Alexander," said Mr. Darcy solemnly as he placed a fatherly hand upon his son's broad shoulder. "They would have been so proud of you! Mr. Bennet always believed that you would live up to the meaning of your name - 'helper of mankind.' By your astounding work at Ridgemont, you have indeed done so!"
Alexander smiled modestly, and replied in equally somber tone, "I miss Grandfather Bennet. Perhaps he liked to make sport of his neighbours a bit too well, but his honesty was sincere and his humour was good-natured."
"And a very patient man as well - putting up with an exclusive household of females!" smiled Mr. Darcy.
"He loved you as his own son," remarked Alexander. "Grandpapa told me that the best decision he had ever made in his life was to entrust his dearest daughter to be your wife."
"I was ever grateful to him for bestowing such a treasure in my care," said Mr. Darcy solemnly. "I only hope that your mother is as happy as she deserves to be. When you marry, my dear son, remember that the happiness of your wife is your foremost concern. If you are abiding in your love for her - as her faithful husband and steadfast friend regardless of circumstances - domestic felicity will come quite naturally. Children of such an union - born out of mutual love - will bring you both greater joy and blessings."
Mr. Darcy's advice - sincere and well-meaning - caused Alexander to feel quite gloomy instead. The prospect of matrimony seemed to be a very unlikely event in the near future for him. Perhaps Mr. Darcy realized such a reality as well, but had hoped that his words would encourage his son to seek another worthy young lady to set his heart upon - that if he would dedicate himself to love someone, happiness was within one's own creation.
"Do not wait to see what the future will bring you, Alexander," continued Mr. Darcy in earnest. "Unshackle yourself from the past, and go forth to seize your future. You have achieved tremendous success in practical matters such as Ridgemont. Now you must confront the more daunting task of finding that unique someone to share your life with."
"Our lives would be so much simpler if we could but glimpse God's master plan for each of us!" remarked Alexander wearily.
Mr. Darcy gave a bemused chuckle, "We live in man's earthly realm, and not God's Heaven - although your dear mother has succeeded in making Pemberley into our own little paradise!"
"I remember your advice on courtship, Father. One cannot give anything without taking some risks. So, it is better to leap into the arena to take the necessary risks than to remain ensconced in one's own sanctuary, is it not?" asked Alexander.
"I do not have all the answers, my son, but you shall always have my love and my prayers!" said Mr. Darcy.
"It seems that our family motto is aptly suited for all of life's challenges: vincit qui patitur," remarked Alexander as he silently thanked his Darcy ancestor who selected such a motto. He who persisted would prevail was indeed sage advice.
The Darcys left Longbourn shortly after breakfast the next day. By noon, they were fast approaching London. Mr. Darcy's countenance lost some of its placidity, as he became impatient to be home with his beloved wife. He had been apart from her since he left Rosings, and he missed her terribly.
It was incredible how the mere thought of his wife could send his heart into such a tumultuous leap. He was an old married man after all, but he had found that he disliked being away from her now more than ever before. She was certainly more precious to him with each passing day - a lifetime of happiness with his dearest Lizzy would not be quite enough.
Alexander had such a deep rapport with his father that he understood the sudden silence perfectly. He smiled inwardly as he discerned the dreamy look that had crept into his father's dark eyes. It was amazing that such a strong and remarkable man like his father could still have such a great need for a woman to make his life complete. Such was the intricacies of God's divine plan - and it was a situation he found very enviable.
Mr. Darcy heaved a sigh of happy relief when their carriage turned into Grosvenor Square. He caught sight of his beloved wife, standing atop the grand steps of the front entrance of their elegant townhouse with their daughters and a phalanx of servants awaiting their arrival. He opened the carriage door before it came to a complete halt, and leapt from it before any of his footmen could perform their proper duty.
He went up the wide steps in brisk, graceful strides to greet his wife, but halted at the last moment to let his son step ahead of him.
"Welcome home, dear hearts!" said Mrs. Darcy to both her husband and son, but was the latter who held her main attention at the moment.
"Alexander!" she exclaimed emotionally as she pulled her son into a loving embrace. She caressed his sun-bronzed face, and looked deeply into his dark eyes, "Thank God you are safely home, my darling! We have been so worried about you, and we missed you so terribly!"
"As I missed you, Mama," smiled Alexander, unaware that he had lapsed into his childhood address of his mother. He kissed her cheek affectionately before he turned to embrace his sisters. A joyous chorus of greetings followed.
"You look marvelous!" exclaimed Jane and Lizzy in unison.
"Indeed! James came home looking like a scarecrow, but you truly look Herculean!" laughed Lizzy as she attempted to squeeze her brother's foreman to test his strength.
"Very impressive," she declared impishly.
"Ouch!" cried Alexander in mock pain. "Miss Elizabeth Anne Darcy! You must mind your manners!"
"I shall do so if you make good your promise to take me to Guther's for ice treats every day."
"I shall be in Town for only a few days, Lizzy," replied Alexander matter-of-factly. "I shall be very busy - meeting with our bankers and lawyers - regarding Ridgemont business. I shall take you and Jane to Guther's, but not daily. I shall gladly pay for all your ice treats at Guther's for the entire Season."
"But there is a great incentive for you to take us to Guther's in person!" said Lizzy sweetly.
"Lizzy and I have made many new friends this Season - a nice coterie of young ladies who are all anxious to meet you!" said Jane.
"It is much safer, so to speak, to meet young ladies at Guther's rather than at a soiree or a Ball. You won't be obliged to dance with anyone at all - a frivolous exercise that you dislike so much!" observed Lizzy.
Alexander could not but laugh aloud at his youngest sister's teasing. She was blessed with the gift of gab!
In this lighter mood, he turned to acknowledge the courteous bows from the servants with jaunty remarks and warm smiles. More than one look of surprise appeared in the many pairs of eyes present - whatever happened to the grave and brooding young master?
Whilst everyone was preoccupied with the welcome of Master Alexander, his parents took full advantage of the situation.
"My dearest Lizzy!" Mr. Darcy whispered almost inaudibly as he grasped his wife's hands firmly in him.
In turn, she smiled ever so sweetly at him, and silently mouthed her own endearment of "My darling Will!"
They gazed wordlessly at each other for a long moment - both of them as still as marble statues, but the radiant glow on her face easily matched his. Mrs. Darcy might as well have flung her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him in broad daylight in the general view of everyone at Grosvenor Square!
The entire Bingley household was up and about at the crack of dawn on Margaret Bingley's wedding day. There were many last minute details to attend to before the wedding ceremony at eleven in the morning.
The latest crisis to greet the Bingleys was an urgent message from the bridegroom. Mr. Anthony Knightley informed them that his oldest brother had fallen ill with a stomach aliment, and would not be fit enough to stand up with him at the wedding. Anthony proposed a remedy with his note: Could his old school chum - Alexander Darcy - stand up with him as best man?
"Oh, Lizzy," exclaimed Mrs. Bingley, "can you ask dear Alexander for such a favour? Please!"
"Certainly," replied Mrs. Darcy calmly. Although she had spent last night at her own home with her husband and family, she was already at the Bingley house at this very early hour. "I only hope that our tailor has finished making the necessary adjustments to Alexander's new clothes."
"Adjustments?" wondered Mrs. Bingley.
"Yes," laughed Mrs. Darcy. "It seems that my son has been doing a lot of vigorous work at our coal mine, gaining not only a rich brown tan, but also some stout muscles as well! The measures for his new clothes were taken from his last order before our Anniversary Ball. Now, I am glad I insisted that he tried on his new clothes before he went directly to bed after his arrival in Town yesterday. He was exhausted from travel, but I had fussed like an old mother hen so he complied with my request. Otherwise, he will be standing up as Anthony's best man in the most ill-fitting set of clothes!"
"You never fuss like a mother hen, Lizzy," laughed Jane heartily. "You are always so sensible, and your children so agreeable that you hardly ever needed to repeat any parental directives more than once or twice!"
"Things are not always as smooth as they seem, my dear Jane," remarked Mrs. Darcy, with thoughts of her son James. He had yet to arrive in Town, although he had written to her two weeks ago, and had promised to leave Delaford with ample time to spare before the wedding.
Alexander, in the meantime, was still sleeping like a newborn babe in the soft, luxurious bed of his parents' townhouse. Accumulated fatigue, worries, and heartaches of the past few months finally caught up with him. Even after his valet had waken him, and had his bath waiting, Alexander lingered on for a moment in bed.
His valet stood patiently by, with a placid look on his face, but the expression of his eyes was one of true devotion. Briggs had been with the Darcy family for over two decades, and could readily recall Master Alexander being a mere lad. He was always the kindest and most considerable of all the Darcy offsprings, and had remained so to this day.
"Well, good morning, Briggs," said Alexander. "How are you, my good man?"
"I am well, sir," bowed Briggs. "May I add that I am very glad to see that you are looking so well since I last saw you, sir."
"My clothes, however, have suffered irreparably," smiled Alexander, knowing the fastidious nature of his valet, "despite of Coxwell's valiant efforts to rescue them upon his arrival at Ridgemont."
"By Mrs. Darcy's instructions, I have disposed of them all. Sir, it seems that you have need for an entirely new wardrobe because of your current physique. Your tailor is making the necessary adjustments as we speak."
"Fresh air and hard work," commented Alexander dryly, "I never felt better physically." His heart was entirely different matter, of course. "You should try some vigorous exercise, Briggs."
"I, sir?" The impeccable valet was incredulous, and lost control of his customary placid manner for a moment. "I am getting on in years, sir!" protested Briggs mildly.
"Nonsense! You are a far younger man than my father or my uncle Sir James. They are in excellent health, and fit as any young man."
"The two honoured gentlemen are a rarity, sir," smiled Briggs as he gave his young master a much needed shave. "I have seen much of the world, and I rarely encountered true gentlemen like Mr. Darcy and the General."
Alexander nodded solemnly, "Yes, it is by God's grace that I was born into this distinguished family. My brother James has the right notion. I should be rejoicing every moment, instead of being so drearily serious and brooding!"
Briggs did not make any comment, knowing that the young master was speaking not for his benefit, but was merely voicing his private thoughts aloud.
A good servant knew when to become seemingly invisible, and Briggs did exactly that.
Chapter 15: A Grand Wedding
The wedding ceremony of Margaret Bingley and Anthony Knightley was held at St. George's. The church pews were seated to capacity, as both the bride and groom had such extensive friends and relatives amongst the ton. A morning crowd of uninvited spectators stood outside to church itself, curious to catch a glimpse of their social betters as they alighted from their fancy carriages in their fashionable fineries.
Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, the bridegroom's parents, were in the happiest spirit, thrilled that they youngest son Anthony had chosen such a fine and sensible young lady for wife. Mr. and Mrs. George Knightley were equally pleased with their favourite nephew's match, and they prayed that their own son would be equally wise in his matrimonial decision when his time came.
Mrs. George Knightley, with her penchant for matchmaking, was enjoying herself with her imagined matches amongst the many eligible young ladies and gentlemen in the congregation. She scanned her surroundings with a delighted twinkle in her fine blue eyes.
"My dearest Emma," whispered her husband, "I recognize that particular look again. You are not scheming for matchmaking again, are you?"
"Why, my dearest Mr. Knightley," his lovely wife replied sweetly, "I had given up such schemes for years, when my efforts to match-make for my dear friend Harriet failed so miserably! Yet . . ."
"And yet . . .? No, let me guess! There are two young people amongst the congregation who will make such a handsome pair?" teased Mr. Knightley. He was very devoted to his wife, who was sixteen years his junior. They shared not only a blissful marriage, but a very deep friendship as well.
"Yes, indeed, my Mr. Knightley! That is, if I can bring the two together."
"Emma!" murmured Mr. Knightley patiently. He was ever the perfect gentleman. He could not help but smile tenderly at his wife. She was still fond of using the very formal "Mister Knightley" when she addressed him, although she always spoke with such a caressing accent that stressed the possessive word "my" for all to hear. It was charmingly endearing, and reflected the whimsical side of his beloved Emma.
"My dear Mr. Knightley," she replied with equal patience, "Wedding ceremonies, excepting our own of course, tend to be rather long and tedious. One should find something interesting to occupy one's mind, don't you agree?"
Before the good Mr. Knightley could respond, the trumpets heralded the resounding notes of a fanfare. The bridal carriage had arrived!
Margaret Bingley, in a flowing gown of purest white satin and finest French lace, walked down the church aisle on the arm of her proud father as the wedding march was being played. Mr. Bingley was beaming with pride on the happiest day of his oldest daughter's life. Yet, if one were to look closely, there was a trace of sadness in his bright blue eyes. In gaining a worthy son, Mr. Bingley was also losing an adored daughter. Margaret would no longer be his little girl, but soon to be Mrs. Anthony Knightley. Her first obligations and her primary affections now belonged to her new husband.
As much as Mr. Bingley wished for all his children to be happy, he could not be blamed too harshly if he had a small wish at that moment: that he would not be walking his next daughter down the aisle too soon in the future. The heart of a devoted father could not take such bittersweet jolts in too frequent an interval!
The bridegroom stood alert but nervous at the altar. Anthony Knightley had stood before his Sovereign Queen and many distinguished personages at court, but he had never felt more honoured than he did at this moment. The woman of his dreams - his sweet Margaret - would soon be his wife!
Alexander Darcy, standing as Anthony's Best Man, was ill at ease. This time, however, Alexander's discomfort was not due to his abhorrence of being on display before a large assembly of people. The source of his uneasiness was walking a few steps in front of the blushing bride.
Isabella Bingley, the Maid of Honour, was the very picture of enchantment, and Alexander felt his own heart pounding violently at the sight of her.
It had been a long time since he last saw Isabella, and they had parted in such poor terms. Had he not make the firmest resolve to resist any thoughts other than brotherly ones towards Isabella? He reasoned to himself that it was merely a case of nerves that his heart was beating so hard and so rapidly. Perhaps, he had inherited his Grandmother Bennet's "poor nerves" after all!
Isabella Bingley occupied her entire mind with hopeful prayers for the bride and bridegroom. She knew that if her allowed her mind to wander even for a fraction, the close presence of Alexander Darcy might destabilize her serenity. She kept her gaze downcast, looking at the rose petals which covered the floor of the church aisle whilst she walked towards the altar.
Since their heated conversation on New Year's Day, she had been determined not to think of him at all. If he had roused any warmer sentiments other than sisterly ones with his ardent kiss, his callous remarks had cooled them.
Isabella had avoided looking up at Alexander, but for a split second, she glanced up in his direction. Apparently, he had been looking at her all this time. Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a very cordial smile.
She acknowledged him with a grave nod before she turned away abruptly to stare ahead again. The passage of the past months had reduced the intensity of her anger towards him, and she had believed that she was quite indifferent to him. Indeed, in her mind, Alexander Darcy was neither a villain nor a man of interest. She was cured of being intrigued by him, or so she thought, until now!
She found it extremely disconcerting that a simple smile from him could create such a tumultuous leap in her heart - a tumult that even James Darcy's rather enthusiastic kiss of reconciliation had failed to create!
Meanwhile, the father of the bride stood eye to eye with the bridegroom. Mr. Bingley grinned approvingly at Anthony Knightley as he grasped the young man's hand and placed his own daughter's hand in it.
"I now entrust my precious Margaret to you, my son," murmured Mr. Bingley, his bright blue eyes glistening. He blinked back a tear as he stepped back to rejoin his wife at the front pew. He glanced sideways toward his brother-in-law Mr. Darcy, and received a sympathetic smile. Mr. Darcy had two daughters of his own; he adored them as any devoted father would, and could well imagine Mr. Bingley's state of heart and mind at that moment.
The wedding party took their respective places at the altar, and the solemn wedding ceremony began.
"Dearly beloved," intoned the vicar with his deep and resonant voice, "we are gathered here today, in the sight of God and in the face of this present company, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted by Christ . . ."
Alexander Darcy would no longer hear the vicar's voice. Standing within an arm's reach of Isabella, he was acutely aware of her. So familiar was her image to him in so many dreams that he could see her clearly without even looking at her. He did take half a step backwards, so that if he averted his eyes slightly, she was in his line of vision.
By such subtlety, it was not obvious to everyone else that the best man was not merely looking directly ahead at the bride and bridegroom, but at the maid of honour as well.
" . . .Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour her and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"
The vicar intoned these most solemn of words with dramatic clarity, expressing the profound demand for a lifetime of devotion and complete faithfulness.
Alexander stared at Isabella as the sharpest pain pierced his heart.
This moment, he thought, would be the closest he would ever stand with her at a holy altar before a vicar! He knew that he could never love any other woman the way he loved Isabella.
There was simply no end and no cure for his passion - he was madly, hopelessly, and completely in love with her. He would never marry anyone else: he could never subject any woman to a loveless marriage in order to beget an heir. He fully realized that many marriages were secured on the basis of monetary and social advantages rather than true love. Yet, he knew he could never be a willing party to such an arrangement. No amount of wealth and consequence could make adequate compensation to his wife if he could not offer her his heart.
Alexander Darcy realized that there was but one course of action before him. Silently, soberly, and sincerely, he answered the pledge in his own mind, "I will."
He glanced up at the image of Christ in the stained glass window, and prayed for divine help. In the sight of God, he had pledged himself to Isabelle, although she had no inkling of such occurrence. With his firm resolve to keep himself faithfully unto her, he would live and die the life of a celibate bachelor. The children from the union of his brother James and Isabella Bingley would be his legal heirs; her happiness would be his own happiness.
When the wedding vows came, Alexander resisted from repeating them silently in his mind. That would be a grave and blasphemous sin, he reasoned, if he should say " I, Alexander Fitzwilliam Darcy, take thee, Isabella Elizabeth Bingley, to my wedded wife . . ." for she would be the wife of his brother, and not his own.
Whilst all such agonizing thoughts were going through Alexander's mind, there were those in the congregation who were occupied with their own musings as well. For the blissfully wedded couples present - the Darcys, the Bingleys, the Knightleys, the Fitzwilliams, the Gardiners, and several others - such a solemn and beautiful wedding reminded them vividly of their own wedding day, and induced much heartfelt rejoicing and remembrance.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exchanged meaningful glances at each other. Every word, every look, and every moment of their own wedding day had been etched forever in their minds, and cherished in their hearts to this day. The amazing fact was that they had shared countless such "happiest days" together, and they had every confidence to look forward to greater happiness in the years to come. The Bingleys shared similar sentiments as the Darcys, and if their gentle nature did not incite grand passions equal to that of the Darcys, their abiding devotion to each other was bliss itself.
Lady Fitzwilliam gazed up at her husband, and thought how narrowly her beloved James survived the endless French artillery barrages, and defeated death itself at Waterloo to come home safely to her. Their wedding had been such a grand celebration. The day prior, Colonel Fitzwilliam was awarded a life baronage and the rank of General by the Prince Regent, on behalf of their Sovereign and a grateful nation, for his valour, steadfastness, and brilliant leadership in the most critical defense of the Chateau de Hougomont. The eventual victory over Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo had hinged on that particular battlefront and Colonel Fitzwilliam did not fail in his daunting duty.
Although his once chestnut brown hair was now peppered with gray, Sir James looked just as youthful and heroic as he did on their wedding date, thought his wife adoringly. Their beloved son Andrew, a younger and gentler version of the father, was a son any mother would be proud to call her own.
Both Mrs. Knightleys, formerly Misses Isabella and Emma Woodhouse of Hartfield, shared a content smile with their respective husbands. Isabella and John Knightley were of but two years apart, and had been the closest of friends since childhood. Emma and George Knightley shared a more peculiar courtship as he had spent nearly two decades waiting for his sweet Emma to grow up and be his cherished wife!
Emma smiled contently at her beloved husband George. If there were any cause for disagreement between them, he would be the first to point out it out. Betwixt his firm lectures and patient reasoning, she would always come to a mutual reconciliation with him. He, of course, had many years of practicing such forbearance, and she had the advantage of knowing that his judgment was inevitably sounder and worthier than she own.
At this moment, however, Mrs. Knightley's quick mind was intrigued by the sight of the tall and handsome young man standing up with her husband's nephew at the altar. She knew Alexander Darcy and the Darcy family well, of course. Her husband had always taken great interest in the lives of his own brother John, and of his nieces and nephews as well. Alexander Darcy was about five years younger than Anthony Knightley, but the two shared a steadfast friendship since boyhood. The two young men had spent several of their school holidays at Donwell Abbey, as Surrey was in much closer proximity to Eton and Cambridge than Derbyshire. The Knightleys had always enjoyed their visits.
It had been a few years since Mrs. Knightley had seen Alexander Darcy, and the transformation of a handsome youth into a remarkably impressive young man quite astonished her. Tales of his success in transforming the hellish coal mine formerly owned by Lord Rodham into a potentially profitable venture in the span of a few months' time had already made the rounds at all the fashionable drawing rooms and gentlemen's clubs in London. Some might think disparagingly of the very notion of a gentleman soiling his hands with manual labour, but none could overlook the success he had forged against such daunting odds. If the excited murmurs which greeted the heir of Pemberley at the prior Seasons in London had been great, such excitement would surely reach a crescendo this Season.
Like so many others, Mrs. Knightley felt justly inspired to find a suitable wife for young Darcy. It was unfortunate that her own daughters were too young for matrimony, so she thought about the daughters of her extensive circle of friends in Surrey as well as in London. Her eyes, however, came to rest repeatedly upon the beautiful Maid of Honour. Why, they would make the best-looking couple, thought Mrs. Knightley, he with his dark hair, sun-bronzed face and impressive physique, and she with her golden hair, fair complexion and classical beauty!
As Mrs. George Knightley scrutinized the handsome pair - with only a general view of their backs and not of their faces - her rich imagination was getting ahead of her good senses. She wondered briefly if the Darcys and the Bingleys had already made a marriage arrangement for their fine offsprings. She did not approve of arranged marriages in general, but this pair would be a very desirable exception. She would have been greatly shocked if she knew what was going through Alexander's mind.
Mr. Darcy, however, could imagine the acute torture his oldest son might be experiencing if his feelings for Isabella had continued unabated since that memorable day under the Great Tree at Pemberley. From the rigidity of his shoulders, and the determined angle of his head, Mr. Darcy could deduce that Alexander was making a silent resolution. He could only pray it would bring his son some peace of mind.
James Darcy, on the other hand, was quite oblivious to his elder brother's misery or Isabella's discomfort. His mind was pleasantly preoccupied with other delightful thoughts. He sat through the wedding ceremony in dreamy contentment, and was busy making plans for his own wedding in the not so distant future. His brother Alexander looked so dignified as best man, and James was confident that Alexander would do him the same honour at his wedding.
The glow of radiant happiness upon the faces of the bride and her groom was beyond measure when they finished their exchanges of marital vows and turned to face the congregation. As they walked down the aisle as man and wife, they politely refrained from stopping to acknowledge the congregation, as was part of the custom. Congratulatory greetings and well wishes from their friends and family would be lavished upon the happy couple at the wedding breakfast. The crowd of spectators who had gathered outside let off a rousing round of applause and cheers as the bridal carriage, strewn with ribbons and roses, and drawn by a team of four magnificent bays, carried the blushing bride and her beloved groom away to attend their Wedding Breakfast.
Alexander offered his arm to Isabella to escort her out of St. George's. She slipped her silk-gloved hand demurely through his elbow, and smiled without quite meeting his eyes. He matched his strides with her shorter steps, and held himself rigidly with a military-like countenance. Her closeness brought a delightful fragrance that maddened his senses. She had leaned ever so slightly against him as they walked down the church aisle together - a movement out of necessity because of the overeager throngs of well wishers leaning out of the church pews. It was an exquisite torture to walk so close to her, and yet, be so distant in her heart!
Alexander conducted himself in the most gentlemanly manner, and remained attentively by Isabella's side throughout the wedding breakfast afterwards. He hardly spoke to her unless it was on the safest subjects - the virtues of the bride, the merits of the groom, and the excellent prospects of such a well-matched union, etc.
She made the foray into broader subjects, and inquired about the Ridgemont mine. Her relief at his safe deliverance from the cave-in accident was genuine, and aptly expressed with true emotions.
"Yes, I am ever grateful to James for helping to save my life!" Alexander smiled with appreciation. "My dear brother endured great risks to himself to do so."
"You would have done no less for him, I am certain," remarked Isabella.
"Yes, I would. However, I sincerely hope that James would never find himself in such dreadful danger for me to prove the true worth of my brotherly love! I wish him well - as always."
After a thoughtful moment, she continued, "Your father has given us such a glowing report of your work at Ridgemont."
"Merely routine work of being an overseer," he replied with a modest smile, "nothing out of the ordinary. To confess the truth, I rather enjoyed my sojourn at Ridgemont."
"Will you be staying in Town for a while?"
"No, I shall leave for Ridgemont again in a few days."
"You won't stay until Her Majesty's Coronation on the 28th of this month?"
"No," he smiled ruefully, "there is much at Ridgemont that require my attention, although I plan to return to London by Coronation Day."
He fell silent after his remark to Isabella, but his smile remained on his handsome face a moment longer. He could not explain that the secondary reason for his intended return to Ridgemont was of a personal nature. Although he had resigned himself to be her future brother-in-law, he could not yet bear to see her in the arms of his brother James. Given time, he was sure that he would overcome his raw emotions, and would become complacent someday. Presently, however, he was not ready yet.
For the first time, Alexander truly comprehended his younger brother's jealous fury. He himself might have reacted the same way if circumstances were reversed!
Whilst he dwelled in his own thoughts, Isabella's mind was likewise engaged. She noted with surprise at the subtle changes in Alexander Darcy. She was rightly intrigued, and made a special effort to observe him as he mingled with the wedding guests. He seemed to smile more frequently, and his manner with people seemed less aloof. Perhaps such a change was due to his recent experience at Ridgemont - being thrust in the middle of a crisis, and having to work and live with total strangers these many months. She mused that she rather liked this transformation of manners: Alexander was definitely not James, whose lively spirit and well-bred manner made him an universal favourite amongst the ton, but he was certainly less brooding and more amiable than he had been before.
Occasionally, Alexander cast an anxious eye in the direction of his brother James, who was busy mingling with the wedding guests as well. James's merry laughter drew people like a magnet, and his pleasant company was eagerly sought by everyone. It was not frequent that their eyes met, but whenever they did, Alexander was reassured with genuine smiles and nods of approval from James. It gladdened Alexander's heart that his younger brother was no longer afflicted with petty jealousy or anxiety in regards to Isabella.
The brothers had but one chance to speak to each other. James looked so happy that his elder brother remarked, "The look on your face rather resembles that of the bridegroom. When shall I wish you joy, James?"
"Soon, very soon," laughed James as he playfully jabbed at his brother in the forearm. "Zooks! Lizzy was right - those rippling muscles of yours do seem like solid granite!"
They shared a hearty laugh, as James suggested that his elder brother challenge Jack Goodwin for an arm-wrestling contest or a friendly round of boxing. But they were prevented from further conversation as various guests and relations joined them, and made much demand upon their attention.
Indeed, James Darcy managed to speak to Isabella Bingley only once during the Wedding Breakfast - for an effusive salutation and a request to be her dance partner at the Wedding Ball that evening. The lady herself received his attention with cordial amicability and warm smiles.
Bearing witness to such an exchange between James and Isabella confirmed in Alexander's mind that an official announcement of their impending wedding was inevitable, and would be forthcoming very soon. He felt very bittersweet at such a prospect. Their announcement would dash his faintest glimmer of hope, but it would also offer a merciful closure to the acute torture he had been suffering these many months. Isabella would be, absolutely and completely, beyond the reach of his hopes and dreams. Perhaps then, and only then, would he finally find solace and peace of mind!
By his duty as Best Man, Alexander had remained impressively stoic by Isabella's side. When he caught her discreet glance at him, he could not speak again, but gave her the most restrained of smiles instead.
In the end, Isabella Bingley gave up on her attempts to deduce the thoughts on Alexander Darcy's mind. If he would not be forthcoming, she could not force it out of him!
Chapter 16: Intolerable Presumptions and Other Surprises
William Warring - Viscount of Braunfield and sole heir to the Earldom of Paxton - strolled into the grand ballroom of Paxton Hall with the air of a man who thought the entire world was at his feet. At his entrance, all eyes were upon him. One could hardly miss such a notable personage of the Polite World. At two and twenty, William Warring felt fortunate that he did not inherit the stout looks of his noble father, but rather, the handsome looks of his mother. He was rather vain about such matters. He scanned the vast ballroom with a lordly gaze, gave a courtly bow in the general direction of the veritable dowagers as he made his way towards his mother. Lady Paxton who looked as if she was a queen in her own rights, holding court with many eager adherents for her attention. Lord Paxton was, after all, an old man afflicted with various aliments. There were rakes and jackanapes amongst the ton who were unscrupulous enough to begin hatching plans for the eventual day when the immensely wealthy and still youthful Lady Paxton should find herself alone in the world.
Lord Paxton had been chatting amiably with Isabella Bingley, and Lizzy Darcy when his son arrived.
"William!" exclaimed the Earl of Paxton. The very sight of his handsome son made the old lord swelled with immense parental pride. One could go through the great portraits gallery at the mansion, examine each noble ancestor's visage, and could not find a finer looking Warring than his only son William. "You are home at last!"
"Father!" bowed William with courtly manners, "I am truly blessed to behold your face again."
He acknowledged his father's companion with an aloof bow, but bestowed a kiss upon his cousin's hand. "Isabella," he murmured with a slight smile.
Lord Paxton laughed jovially, his gray eyes twinkled with delight as he made the formal introductions, "Miss Darcy, may I present my son William, Viscount Braunfield. William, this is Miss Elizabeth Darcy, the youngest daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley."
Lizzy curtsied politely but silently.
Lord Braunfield replied in a lazy and nonchalant voice, "Enchanted."
He did but glance at the object of this introduction, and he was already bored. This one was pretty enough, he mused, but she could not compare to Isabella's beauty. He was tired of his father always signaling out young chits for him. They were universally the same - pretty girls of good family lineage, but they were usually too giggly, too agreeable, and prone to have the vapours if one said anything shocking. If he were not so dependent upon his father's gold and all other worldly possessions, then he would not follow the old fellow's whims!
Miss Elizabeth Darcy had the advantage over William Warring at the moment of their introduction. They had met once before, when they were young children. She could recall their encounter readily, but he seemed oblivious of ever meeting her.
Over the years, Lizzy had heard many stories regarding Lord Braunfield from her Bingley cousins, and none of them were flattering. He was arrogant and vain, inherited all of his haughty mother's traits, and none of his father's agreeable nature. Being adored and spoiled without limits by his doting parents had made William more insufferable than his natural nature would have rendered him.
Lizzy was trying to find a graceful way to be excused from his presence when Earl Paxton commanded his son to dance with her.
Unless she made a scene, Lizzy found herself trapped between the fat Earl and his arrogant son. Isabella, standing nearby, could not assist her presently. Not unless she threw herself into the fray and dance with William instead, thought Lizzy. Isabella did not seem to have the slightest inclination to help her, despite of their deep friendship.
Lizzy decided to meet the challenge, and summoned up her undaunted spirit.
Viscount Braunfield led her to the dance floor with an air of boredom.
"I find it rather sad, my lord," remarked Lizzy with a defiant look on her face, "that you have lost your amicability of your youth."
"I beg your pardon?" said Lord Braunfield in surprise.
Lizzy repeated her remark, and added, "We have met before, my lord, when you were a mere lad. You were at Maywood, visiting the Bingleys, when you fell off your horse. You had such a nasty cut on your forehead, and I . . ."
"And you were the one who bandaged my head with your handkerchief?" exclaimed Lord Braunfield as he stared at his dance partner, looking at her with interest for the first time. "Henry and his Darcy cousins had left me in a cloud of dust with their breakneck ride, and you were on your little piebald pony, trotting along leisurely - a fat little girl with a large pink ribbon in her hair, as I recall now!"
He laughed despite of himself, a genuine laugh without its usual artifice, and it did not sound entirely disagreeable.
"Yes, indeed, I remember it now," Lord Braunfield continued. "I was quite grateful to you. I did not know my way through the woods, and you stayed with me."
Then, there was a subtle shift of mood, and his haughtiness returned in full force. "How old were you then, my fat little one?"
"I was seven years old," replied Lizzy heatedly, "and I was neither fat nor your little one!"
"Well said!" replied Lord Braunfield in his distinctive nonchalant manner, "You are obviously neither fat nor so little anymore. Indeed, you look very enchanting - quite grown up."
Lizzy glared at him, praying that the waltz would end soon. Yet, she was determined to have her fun in the meantime. She decided to poke fun at this insufferable young man, and deflate his extremely high opinion of himself.
"It does not signify how I look to you - I do not care a wit for your good opinion, my lord," she said coolly, flinging the honourary salutation like a sling at him, or like a gauntlet for a duel.
Lord Braunfield might be arrogant, but he was not dim-witted. He recognized the challenge in her voice, and decided that this evening might not be so dull after all. It was a rare treat - indeed, an absolute first - that a young lady had spoken to him in such a determinedly defiant manner.
"Then, why are you dancing with me?" he said with a lazy smile, looking almost like a Bengal tiger toying with its prey.
"My respect for my gracious host demand that I behave with proper decorum," replied Lizzy evenly. "It is not entirely fitting to slap your face and refuse you in front of your father."
"You are very outspoken for a young chit," remarked Lord Braunfield, "although I am beginning to see the charm of such cutting wit and fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman. You are very much like your mother - now I can truly comprehend why a man like Mr. Darcy should condense to marry beneath him and take a wife such as your mother. Does Mrs. Darcy's uncle still resides in Cheapside? It must be that plebian work ethics that your oldest brother Alexander has clearly inherited from your mother's relations - it is rumored that he works like a common miner - at your father's new coal mine up in the Pennines in Northumberland?"
It took all of Lizzy's iron will not to break away and slap Lord Braunfield on the spot. Instead, she chose to yield the more powerful weapon of wit to repel his obnoxiously offensive comments.
"William Warring," she said coolly, "your good opinion is not worth a farthing to me. But I do take pity on you, and shall enlighten you on a few facts. My granduncle - Mr. Edward Gardiner - is one of the most prosperous merchants in London. It is men like him - hardworking, intelligent, and prudent merchants - who have built Her Majesty's realm into the preeminent world power. They provide our nation's life blood with their trade, goods, services and hard earned currency. It is also men like my father and my brothers, the best of the aristocracy and the landed gentry, who take prodigious care of their tenants and dependents, to marshal our resources, and to sustain our land for the greater good for all. God help us that the governance of our country be left to conceited titled fools like you who care about nothing beyond your own nose. Those who are born with such great blessings should be aware of the awesome responsibilities that come with such gifts. It is purely an accident of birth that made you the son of an earl, and another man, the son of a pauper."
"My, my! The next thing I hear from those pretty lips would be: God has made all men equal?"
"Are we referring to Mr. Thomas Jefferson's opinions on equality? In view of my present company, I beg to differ. I think you are, despite of your fancy clothes and noble title, not equal in character or worth to our humblest tenant at Pemberley!"
"Does your father, the scion of an ancient family of landed aristocracy - a Tory in his politics, I am certain - know that his daughter has such republican thoughts? You may even harbour dangerous radical thoughts! A revolutionary, perhaps?"
"I am a loyal subject of Her Majesty the Queen! I am not a radical - I do not support revolutionary overthrows of governments - and I consider myself a progressive Tory in my political views. Reforms should be made where they are needed. My dear father is a Tory, but he is compassionate and progressive-minded. He is a benevolent protector and provider for his people, and is guided by his strong Christian morals and principles. He has long been an advocate to abolish slavery in the colonies and everywhere else in the world; he supported the Catholic Emancipation Act of 1828, the Reform Bill of 1835, and the Labour Act .. . ."
Lizzy was well-informed and articulate. Her close rapport with her eldest brother, in particular, had helped her honed her skills at debates and public oratory. Indeed, she could engage in verbal duels with the best of them.
Lord Braunfield was quite speechless. Before he could come up with a clever retort, the waltz was over.
Miss Elizabeth Anne Darcy gave him a triumphant grin, her fine dark eyes sparkling with such vivacity as she walked away in such elegant steps. When she rejoined her cousin Isabella, she could not help but vent her frustration.
"Your cousin is one of the most obnoxious man I have ever met!" said Lizzy. "I spent the entire waltz lecturing him."
"Yes, he is indeed. Unfortunately, my cousin does not improve upon closer acquaintance, I can readily assure you!" laughed Isabella. "I hope you used your rapier sharp wit to defend yourself against his sarcastic self! Lord Paxton fears that his old age may prevent him from seeing a grandchild or two if he does not hurry his son along. I dare say that his lordship is scheming to arrange a marriage for his son!"
"What a loathsome idea! This is, after all, the dawning of the Victorian age! One should be allowed to choose one's own future spouse, on the basis of love and personal merits, and not for the convenience and wishes of others!" remarked Lizzy as she looked across the ballroom, and found Lord Paxton's gaze squarely upon her own person. It was unsettling, to speak the least!
"I agree with you wholeheartedly," confirmed Isabella, acutely aware of being considered as a prized trophy herself.
Lizzy looked around her to seek a worthy champion for protection.
As Alexander was walking nearby, she seized him urgently by the arm.
"My dear brother, place your sturdy self in front of Isabella and I, so that Lord Paxton cannot see us. He has been paying too much attention to us throughout this past week of prenuptial dinner soirees, and especially this evening."
"Surely the venerable earl has no dishonourable designs upon you!" murmured Alexander rather bemusedly.
"Not his own, but for his horrid son!" hissed Lizzy behind Alexander's back. He had already put himself dutifully in front of them. "Lord Paxton is on the hunt for a daughter-in-law!"
"Zounds!" muttered Alexander to himself.
Bemused feminine giggles greeted his candid remark.
"How am I doing so far?" asked Alexander as he glanced over his shoulder.
The sight of Isabella and his own sister Lizzy beaming back an approving smile at him rendered him in a lighter mood instantly. He stood there stoically, trying to work up his courage to ask Isabella for a waltz, when a deep pleasant voice interrupted him.
"Hello, there," said James Darcy as he joined the tidy group. "What is happening here? Alex, you look like one of Her Majesty's guardsmen, standing sentry over these two belles of the Ball! You are already drawing vile looks from various young bucks who wish for the pleasure of their company."
"We have need for his protection," said Lizzy simply.
"Then, allow me to share the burden," laughed James heartily. "Alex, you guard our little sister, and I shall protect our fair cousin Isabella."
With that declaration, James Darcy gave Isabella a courtly bow.
"May I claim my dance now, Bella?" asked James with perfect amicability. She smiled her consent, and allowed him to sweep her away for a waltz.
Both Alexander and Lizzy stared after the handsome pair, rejoicing in their obvious merriment, and perhaps feeling envious as well.
After a long moment of reflective silence, Lizzy said to her brother, "You should mingle with the guests, and find yourself a delightful dance partner. Life must have been very lonely at Ridgemont these many months. I should not stop you from enjoying yourself tonight. As customary, there are many young ladies present who can hardly keep their eyes off you! Your being away from Town thus far this Season has only made you a more attractive catch!"
"Yes," urged Henry Bingley as he joined them, "dance and share the burden of being measured for the leg-shackles of matrimony! I dare say the young chits are getting bolder with each passing year! I just had the novel experience of being asked by a young lady to dance a waltz with her!"
"Did you?" laughed Lizzy.
"I did! I could hardly resist her fine eyes, and she proved to be a very accomplished dancer!" chuckled Henry Bingley. "Alexander, find yourself an enchanting dance partner, so you can savour the great pleasures one can find in a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman!"
"To which one must add more substantial qualities!" remarked Alexander matter-of-factly. "Beauty beyond what meets the eye."
"A point well taken," agreed Henry, "but the Almighty, in His infinite wisdom, has created quite a few extraordinary lovely treasures within whom feminine allurements and goodness dwell together in such happy harmony!"
"Are you foxed, Henry? Such eloquence!" asked Alexander with a light chuckle.
"Eloquence in a very contorted sort of way!" observed Lizzy. "Truly too much French champagne for you already, Henry!"
"Perhaps!" he conceded with a jovial laugh. "But, Lizzy, I am only stating the obvious. You and Jane, for example, such treasures, as are all my sisters!"
"You are perfectly right," agreed Alexander.
"Since you have such obvious faith in me, permit me to direct you to the far side of the ballroom," said Henry as he gestured towards an elegant coterie of young ladies. "There is a group of blue-stockings who love books as dearly as you do - and a few of them are exceedingly pretty as well."
Henry added good-humouredly, half-teasing, and half-serious, "I know your fastidious nature, Alexander, but I am certain that there is at least one truly accomplished woman amongst them!"
"I have no wish for dancing tonight," remarked Alexander as he admired James's graceful waltz with Isabella. "I am quite content, standing here with you and Lizzy."
"You always place others' happiness before you own!" said Lizzy as she followed his gaze. She might not be privy to any of the details of her brothers' contention over Isabelle Bingley, but she was intuitive enough to guess that there was serious rivalry between them. Somehow, she also knew that Alexander had quit the field for James.
"I am well satisfied that the happiness of my loved ones are essentially my own," smiled Alexander placidly.
"You are as selfless and generous as Papa!" she declared with conviction. "But . . . I doubt that he would have stood idly by if his own Miss Elizabeth Bennet was being courted by another man."
Alexander chuckled softly at his sister's remark. "Lizzy, you are too outspoken at times!"
"I plead guilty as charged," she grinned at him in return.
He smiled, and patted her hand gently.
"Forgive me if I speak out of turn," she continued hesitantly, knowing that she was treading on a tender subject. "but I believe that you must . . ."
He seemed to have anticipated her thoughts, because he held up his hand, and said rather firmly, "Lizzy, the subject matter is closed."
"Oh," she answered as she narrowed her fine dark eyes to scrutinize her elder brother.
Henry Bingley shook his handsome blond head, and exclaimed, "I am totally confounded. You two seem to speak in a secret code sometimes!"
"One meaningful look can convey the feelings of a hundred words," replied Lizzy, as she took pity on her cousin. "It is a habit we Darcy children have inherited from our parents."
"Well, I always prefer plain speaking - directly to the point - so that there is no room for misunderstanding!" declared Henry.
Alexander listened to his cousin thoughtfully, and nodded his head in silent agreement. It was unfortunate, he thought, that circumstances sometimes prevented one from speaking directly to the point.
"May I have the next dance, Lizzy?" asked Henry cordially.
"Thank you, Henry, but I do not desire to dance anymore tonight," replied Lizzy with sweet sincerity.
"Zooks!" exclaimed Henry, "There is nothing I like better than dancing! I shall have to find your proxy! A daunting task, but one I can manage!"
With that remark, Henry walked away from his cousins with a jaunty salute, and braved the phalanx of matchmaking dowagers yet again, in order to gain a waltz with a young lady.
The Wedding Ball did not end until three hours pass midnight. As Lord and Lady Paxton saw their last guest took leave, they were exhausted but satisfied. Lady Paxton was glad that the entire Ball had turned out so brilliantly well, and that it would surely set the standard for all subsequent balls for the ton to follow for the rest of the Season.
Lord Paxton was glad that, despite of the immense pain in his gouty foot for walking around the ballroom all night to chat with different young ladies, he had found an ideal wife for his son William! Her mother's family was rather modest, but her father's lineage was impressively old, dating back to the days of William the Conqueror. More importantly, her strong will might proof to be a healthy influence upon his son.
As unwilling as Lord Paxton was, he had to admit that his son William was a very disagreeable young man, with such dissolute habits. There was a dire need to reform his character. With a sensible wife by his side, William might be saved from himself yet!
Yes, thought Lord Paxton contently, it was entirely possible. And this particular young lady would be able to stand up to the overbearing Lady Paxton as well. If he was a truly religious man, Lord Paxton might have knelt down to say a prayer, but his hefty bulk and gouty foot prevented him from making such a gesture. He decided to retire to bed immediately, so that he could call upon the young lady's parents to make the proper marriage arrangement as soon as it was the polite hour to do so.
The Darcy family left well before the last guest at the Ball, but it was still a very late hour before they reached home. Unable to sleep, Alexander decided to read in the library. He strolled in, and realized that he had interrupted a conversation between his parents and James. As he gave a hurried apology, Mr. Darcy gave him a commanding wave to take a seat.
"James just informed us that he is engaged to be married," said Mr. Darcy solemnly.
"Congratulations!" exclaimed Alexander. His heart was in acute pain, but his sincerity was genuine. He truly wanted to wish his brother well.
"I wish you and Isabella the greatest joy!" added Alexander as he shook hands with James.
"Eh . . . I am not marrying Isabella Bingley," stuttered James awkwardly.
"I beg your pardon?" asked Alexander in disbelief. It was impossible! James loved Isabella. Something was definitely amiss.
"Your brother is engaged to Miss Miranda Brandon," replied Mr. Darcy solemnly, his dark eyes had a hard glint in them.
"Miss Brandon?" repeated Alexander in puzzlement. The name meant nothing to him.
"The only daughter of Colonel and Mrs. Brandon of Delaford. The Colonel is a very good friend of Sir James Fitzwilliam," explained Mrs. Darcy. Her husband seemed too upset to speak.
"Your engagement? How did it happen?" asked Alexander. It did not make sense to him still.
"It was very simple," exclaimed James with a genuine laugh. The anticipated joy of his impending marriage rendered him in a state of dreamy contentment.
"Uncle James and Aunt Georgiana took me along to visit the Brandons at Delaford. Within three days, I fell madly and passionately in love with Miss Brandon, and we got engaged."
"This is madness, James!" replied Alexander. "Within three days of acquaintance?"
"Well, with certain people, three days are more than enough to know them completely. On the other hand, there are folks I have been acquainted with my whole life, and I barely know them at all!"
"James!" persisted his brother, "The last time I saw you at Ridgemont, barely four months ago, you were supposed to visit the Bingleys whilst you were home, and make your reconciliation with Isabella."
"I did," replied James placidly. He was the only one in the room not in an agitated mood. "I begged for Isabella's forgiveness, and we reconciled."
"And?" demanded Alexander.
"You wish for all the gory details? I thought the Spanish Inquisition ended four years ago!" laughed James. "Very well, my big brother! After our reconciliation, I asked once again for her permission to court her. She declined my request. She told me very firmly that she would not welcome any courtship from anyone - that she was on the shelf, so to speak. In fact, we parted in the most amicable term - we kissed and wished each other well. Shortly afterwards, I went to Delaford with Uncle James and Aunt Georgiana. And now, I am a happily engaged man!"
"Have you told Isabella yet - about your engagement?" asked Mr. Darcy glumly. He was in agreement with his oldest son - this was madness!
"No, not yet. I barely arrived on time for Margaret's wedding," replied James. "I danced with Isabella at the Wedding Ball, but it was hardly the place to announce my private concerns. Besides, it is not exceedingly important that Isabella be told immediately. As I told you all earlier, Isabella and I parted on the best of terms."
"You parted with a kiss!" Alexander's thoughts were entirely with Isabella. A glance at his father confirmed that Mr. Darcy had the same intention in mind.
"James!" continued Alexander with his interrogation. "You kissed Isabella when you parted, and you left her with a promise of your continued devotion and your avowed intention to marry her! You cannot enter into another engagement with a different lady!"
"You kissed Isabella too!" retorted James, failing to see his brother's point. James was irritated by Alexander's persistent effort to make him the guilty party. "And you told her that your kiss meant nothing but artistic admiration for her beauty! At least I was being honest with Isabella!"
"James!" said Mr. Darcy forcefully. He intervened for the first time, "Alexander is right. By your own admission - to which I bore witness - you have been in love with Isabella over three years. You insisted that there was an implicit understanding between you and Isabella that equated almost to a formal engagement. You prohibited everyone else from courting Isabella! Your poor brother suffered more than blows for it. It is a matter of honour that you remain true to your own word!"
"But Father . . ." protested James, but his brother interrupted him.
"Unless . . ." Alexander said sternly, "unless you are obliged to marry Miss Brandon under extenuating circumstances?"
"You suspect that I have compromised Miss Brandon's virtue?" cried James indignantly. He turned to confront his brother face to face.
"I know you to be a man of honour, James, but it is a remote possibility - due to your extremely short courtship and your proposed mad dash to the altar!" retorted Alexander. Their parents seemed to be in silent agreement with his assessment.
"No, I have not compromised Miss Brandon in any way!" declared James earnestly. "We are in love, and we wish to be married. Besides, it will not be such a mad dash to the altar. We are engaged, but we shall not be married until August. Miranda wishes for her uncle Rev. Edward Ferrars to officiate at our wedding. Rev. & Mrs. Ferrars are currently traveling abroad, and will return by August."
"I recall you being so certain of your love for Isabella that you forbade your brother to put forth his own courtship of her," said Mr. Darcy, his dark brows knitted in a formidable frown.
"I was an utter fool," admitted James sincere regret. "I was so concerned with my own needs and dreams that I cared not for my brother's feelings, or how Isabella truly felt about me. I had hoped that she would eventually capitulate if I remained persistent!"
"Now, however, your heart has found another! How can you be so certain of your feelings towards Miss Brandon? Four years of believing yourself in love with Isabella is not a trifling matter!" said Alexander with a steely look of reproach at his brother.
James was puzzled by his brother's attitude. If Alexander still harboured tender feelings for Isabella, then why was he not jumping for joy at this renewed opportunity to woo her and to win her heart? Alexander should have been thanking him, thought James, instead of behaving like a judge of the Spanish Inquisition!
"I can feel my love for Miranda in every sinew of my being," replied James. "The moment I met Miss Brandon, I finally knew what being in love meant! I was swept away by the most powerful feelings. I felt as if my heart was ignited by the sight of her! I wanted to be with her, and to take care of her. With Isabella, I have always felt happy, but too complacently comfortable. Isabella and I have always shared an easy camaraderie, but she is ever so capable and resolute, and she is never in any dire need for me to take care of her!"
"By my own experience, my son, having a wife who is capable and resolute is the greatest comfort. Your dear mother has been my staunchest ally throughout these years."
"I do not doubt your word, Father. In retrospect, however, I now realize that my regard for Isabella is of the fondest affections of a best friend, but not the true love of a man for a woman. I suspect that I am not breaking Isabella's heart either, because she has consistently turned down my numerous proposals these past few years. Any lingering implication on my part was removed by her firm refusal of my courtship that last time we talked!"
Mr. Darcy gave his son a penetrating look; the expression in his own dark eyes was unreadable.
Mrs. Darcy sighed in resignation, and said at last, "James does have a valid point, although I do not think that Alexander is entirely wrong either." She reached out to grasp James's hand, and said, "Dear heart, I think your father and brother are upset because you did not make a clear break with Isabella when you courted Miss Brandon. To them, you are bound by your implicit pledge to Isabella."
"Implicit pledge? Mother, this is rather overwhelming - like an ancient code of chivalry!"
"Perhaps it is," replied Mr. Darcy, "but we, as a family, have always set very high standards for ourselves. There might have been a few wild Darcys in our long family history, but not within the last five generations."
"Father, such high standards are sometimes humanly impossible!" remarked James honestly. "Not everyone can be a paragon of virtue and patient forbearance like you!"
An awkward silence hung in the room. It was the first time that one of his children had voiced any objections to his high expectations of them. Mr. Darcy had never considered himself overly stern. He taught his own children the very same moral principles he lived by. Could he have been unreasonably demanding? He regarded his younger son with thoughtful eyes.
"James, no one is infallible! Yet one must always set the highest standards so that one can aspire to achiever greater things."
Silence ensured as Mr. Darcy's sage words prompted both of his sons to heed his advice.
"Yes, sir," murmured James. "I shall explain it all to Isabella tomorrow." He looked at his elder brother solemnly, and added, "I shall make it right for you, Alex. I now realize what agony I must have put you through!"
"We must go to her now," said Alexander impatiently as he inhaled several deep breaths. He was like a drowning man at sea - a lifeline had been finally thrown at him, but still out of his grasp. "You must beg Isabella for her forgiveness - for the grievous hurt you have inflicted upon her!"
"Alex, do you realize the time? It is almost four in the morning!"
"Then, we shall go to Isabella as soon as it is the polite hour for a social call. I shall accompany you to make sure that you do not escape from your assignment," replied Alexander.
Seeing the grim look of determination on his brother's face, James simply nodded, bid everyone goodnight, and took leave. He had no doubt that Alexander would march him over to the Bingleys in the morning.
After James's quick departure from the library, Alexander turned to his parents. The looks on their faces reflected his own. All of them had been so used to think of Isabella Bingley as James's intended that it was a severe shock to discover that James was now betrothed to someone else.
"It is scarcely believable!" remarked Alexander. "Do you know Miss Brandon?"
"We met Miss Brandon at Lord Matlock's Ball last Season. Her father served under Sir James Fitzwilliam's command in India. Miss Brandon is a very bright and pretty girl - about two and twenty - and has great love for music and poetry. I believe she takes after her mother."
"Colonel Brandon is much older than his wife, and is very devoted to his family. A sensible and respectable man - very much in the mode of your Uncle James Fitzwilliam," remarked Mr. Darcy. "We shall meet the Brandons at the end of the month, when they come to Town."
"I might be back in Ridgemont already," replied Alexander, feeling no loss at missing such a meeting. He mind was too full of Isabella to think of anything else. "Well, I should be off to bed soon. Goodnight, Mother! Goodnight, Father!"
"Goodnight, dear heart," replied Mrs. Darcy as she kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, son," said Mr. Darcy as he patted Alexander on his back. He paused for a thoughtful moment, and added, "Trust your heart, and all will be well. Remember our family motto."
Alexander nodded, gave him a wane smile before he turned to leave. Winning back Isabella's good opinion and esteem would not be an easy task.
"What a web of entanglement!" remarked Mrs. Darcy as soon as they were alone.
In reply, Mr. Darcy pulled his wife into his arms, and hugged her close to him rather convulsively. He did not speak a word. He took a deep breath, inhaled her sweet scent before he gave her a lingering kiss.
"Will?" she asked rather breathlessly as she recovered from his kiss. She gazed into his dark eyes, and wondered aloud, "What brought this on?"
"The look in Alexander's eyes - of abject misery and renewed hope," murmured Mr. Darcy against her cheek. "It made me realized how a mere look or word could turn the hand of Fate so easily. If I have ever taken you for granted, my dearest Lizzy, I apologize most sincerely. I am so blessed, so fortunate to have you as my wife!"
"Oh, my darling," whispered Mrs. Darcy in reply, "I do not think we have ever taken each other for granted! We went through so much suffering after our infamous Hunsford incident that the renaissance of our love was a miracle itself!"
"A rebirth? But my love for you have never ceased, not since 25th of November, 1811, at the Netherfield Ball, when I first realized that I much rather live with you - engaging in daily verbal sparring if necessary - than to live without you in my life! Your rejection of me at Hunsford only resulted in the affirmation of my abiding love and admiration for you!"
"You forgot that I did not always love you as much as I do now," said Mrs. Darcy.
"You once urged me not to have a good memory in such cases," chuckled Mr. Darcy, "and I have followed your sage advice!"
"Do you realize, Will," she confessed as she held his beloved face between her hands, "that I fall in love with you over and over again? Almost daily?"
"Only almost daily?" he asked her teasingly. "I must do better then, my sweet, so that you will tumble in love with me daily!"
They shared a good laugh over this little joke, cherishing the truth of it.
He caressed her face tenderly, appreciating every aspect of her fine features, and asked thoughtfully, "Well, Lizzy, do you think Alexander finally has a chance of winning Isabella's heart?"
"I am not sure," replied Mrs. Darcy with a worried frown. "If Isabella's heart has been attached to James even in a small way, she will be very hurt by his sudden engagement. The transfer of affections from one brother to the next does not necessary follow! By his own admission, Alexander has convinced Isabella to think very ill of him. Now, the daunting task is to regain her good opinion!"
"Surely, Isabella can see the sterling qualities of Alexander," declared Mr. Darcy. "He is, indeed, in temperament and character, more suited for her than James."
"Human hearts are not always guided by rational thinking and logical reasoning!"
"Very true," acknowledged Mr. Darcy with a gracious nod. "I, too, was swept away by such overwhelming passion and admiration for you - especially for your fine eyes, pretty face, and . . . very alluring figure!"
"Mr. Darcy!" exclaimed his wife with hearty laugh, "Such candid confessions of an old married man! I believe that it is past the hour for you to retire to bed!"
"As it is past yours as well, Mrs. Darcy . . . May I see you safely to your bedchamber?" as he gave her a gallant bow.
"Indeed, it is your duty as my faithful husband to do so," she smiled most tenderly at him, the mirthful glint in her dark eyes was ever present. "I do apologize, however, for not being able to play and sing for you tonight - or rather, in such wee hours of the morning."
"Don't fret over it, my love," he smiled with complete adoration. "Your voice itself is music to my ears!"
If not for potential prying eyes in his vast household, Mr. Darcy would have sweep his wife up in his arms, and carried her upstairs to her bedchamber - the way he did on their wedding night. Whilst it was understandable that a young bridegroom, blessed with a beautiful bride, would make such a public display of passion, it would cause much scandalous talk for an old married couple to act in such a way still!
Mr. Darcy resigned himself to offer her his arm, and escorted her upstairs in the most gentlemanly manner. He measured their every step with growing impatience. As much as he admired the elegant way his wife walked, he wished that her dainty steps were a tad faster. The moment after they entered her bedchamber, he bolted the door shut with decisive action.
She was already back in his arms as he bent his face close to hers, and whispered, "My Lizzy!"
"My darling Will!" Mrs. Darcy murmured.
She was equally enthralled by her husband as he was with her, and she laughed in delight as he carried her to bed.
"I still feel like your new bride," she confessed to him breathlessly, a deep blush diffusing over her face. She never felt more alive and free than when she was with him.
"My dearest and loveliest Elizabeth!" he said effusively, his dark eyes glowed with such happiness. "As we take such prodigious care of each other, our love is constantly renewed."
He ran a caressing finger against her warm cheeks, and added, "Truly my blushing bride!"
"Such eloquence! Have you a new love sonnet for me?" she asked merrily.
"Not presently, my love," he chuckled softly as he pulled the last pin from her thick hair, "as I cannot think clearly with you in my arms. But you are my Muse, and I shall compose a sonnet for you later . . . much later."
"In such case, Mr. Darcy, I wish for a serenade instead. An Italian aria - from Rossini's Barber of Seville, perhaps?" she teased him yet again, knowing that he was shy about singing, even in the privacy of their bedchamber.
"I beg you, Mrs. Darcy!" he answered in equally blithe spirit. "I can hum the music or recite the lyrics, but do not make me sing like Figaro! Allow me to give you three kisses in exchange for every musical note instead!"
It was a familiar bargain, and after successfully doubling his offer of kisses, she readily consented. He gave her a dashing bow before he proceeded to shower her with fervent kisses - "Largo al factotum" was a lively aria, after all!
"Bravo," she exclaimed as she collapsed into his arms in helpless laughter as he hummed the final note. Her husband had such levity in him when he deemed it suitable for the occasion. His hearty laughter echoed the bliss in her heart.
"Bravo! Encore!" as she repeated her praises of his performance. She cupped his beloved face between her hands, and looked deeply into his dark eyes.
"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"As I love you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now, allow me to choose an aria of a different tempo and mood," he whispered softly.
She laughed merrily, and granted him her consent.
With infinite tenderness, he gathered her closer in his arms, and hummed his own aria - "An Ode To Paradise" - for his most faithful and exclusive audience of one.