To Conquer Mr. Darcy

Ten

The wedding celebration that night was quite the opposite of the solemn, quiet ceremony of the morning, and it brought home to Elizabeth full force what it would mean to be the lady of the manor. It began at sundown with dancing by torchlight to the music of fiddle and flute, followed by food on a grand scale for all the tenants—Elizabeth was astonished to see what the Pemberley kitchens could produce on such short notice, and when she saw the gathered masses, she realized for the first time just how many lives depended upon her husband’s management. She and Darcy had shared a light dinner earlier, which was fortunate, since they were quite busy throughout the feasting, Darcy distributing gifts to the poor, and Elizabeth presenting small nosegays of flowers to the children, who bobbed shy curtseys and bows in acknowledgement. The house was completely decked with flowers—she wondered if she would find the gardens stripped bare the following morning—and filled to the brim with revelers.

She found herself feeling unaccountably shy when Darcy introduced her to the crowded masses, and blushed when they cheered her heartily, which only encouraged some of the lewd comments that flew back and forth among the tenants. Darcy had warned her of this aspect—“This is still the North, my love,” he had said—and she tried to keep her composure, but to the delight of the crowd, one or two of the comments clearly embarrassed her thoroughly, and they were all the more pleased to discover that the new Mistress of Pemberley had the capacity to laugh at herself when this occurred. Darcy, who was not such a tempting target for heckling, escaped more lightly, staying at Elizabeth’s side throughout.

After the formal festivities finally drew to a close, Elizabeth and Darcy retired to her room, where they stood at the window as a group of villagers sang ballads and made music below them. When they came to the chorus of one of the songs, Elizabeth felt Darcy’s eyes on her.

He murmured in her ear, “There are cakes and ale in the village, but I fear that they will not leave until they see me kiss you. May I?”

She looked up at him with an amused smile. “Well, if I must tolerate your attentions, Mr. Darcy, I suppose there is nothing to be done for it. I shall strive to bear it with equanimity.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, and he pulled her into his arms for a kiss perhaps slightly more thorough than the circumstances required. Her cheeks were scarlet as they called their thanks to the cheering singers.

“Now, my love,” he said as he drew her away from the window, “about this matter of tolerating my attentions…”

Elizabeth was feeling quite satisfied with married life the next morning, when, after having the pleasure of awakening slowly in her husband’s arms, she sat with him at breakfast, knowing that no one was expected beside the two of them, and that this could no longer be seen as improper. The warmth with which Darcy’s gaze rested on her brought a smile to her face, and she was not above seeking his hand under the table merely to celebrate the fact that she could do so.

After breakfast, they planned to part briefly as Mrs. Reynolds had offered to introduce the staff to Elizabeth and begin the first stages of her education in the workings of Pemberley, which Elizabeth hoped to embark upon before they took their necessary trip to Longbourn to acquaint her parents with the news of their marriage. They had hardly had a chance to start the discussion before Darcy reappeared with letters in hand. “Mrs. Darcy, I have just discovered that the post brought these letters while we were in Matlock; I believe they are from Longbourn, and I thought you might wish to attend to them immediately,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” responded Elizabeth eagerly. She took the letters, and, discovering they were both from Jane, asked Mrs. Reynolds to excuse her until later. With a smile for her husband, she settled herself in the parlor to read her letters. She had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrival at Pemberley; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had now been spent there; now her sister was justified, as one of the letters was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.

The one missent must be first attended to; it had been written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded, as well as her sister’s raptures over her dearest Mr. Bingley; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to this effect:

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham!—Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides!—But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves, though how you are to broach the matter to Mr. Darcy I can make no suggestion. My dear Bingley has been everything that is kind, and I am most thankful that he is here. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster gives us reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.’

Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what she felt, Elizabeth, on finishing this letter, instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows—it had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first:

By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurried letter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poor Lydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having left Brighton the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Lydia’s short letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understand that they were going to Gretna Green, something was dropped by Lieutenant Denny expressing his belief that W. never intended to go there, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to Colonel F., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B. intending to trace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther, for on entering that place they removed into a hackney-coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after this is that they were seen to continue the London road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came on into Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success; no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindest concern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerely grieved for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blame on them.

Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan, and even if he could form such a design against a young woman of Lydia’s connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her so lost to every thing?—Impossible. I grieve to find, however, that Colonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; he shook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he feared W. was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill and keeps to her room. Could she exert herself it would be better, but this is not to be expected, and as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has his anger for having concealed their attachment, but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; I do not know how I would manage it, though, were it not for the aid and support of my dear Bingley, who has been everything one could possibly ask in this time of trouble. Adieu.

I take up my pen again to make a request, because the circumstances are such that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to do, I am sure I know not, but his excessive distress will not allow him to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again tomorrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle’s advice and assistance would be every thing in the world; he will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness. I can only rely on you, Lizzy, to determine what is best done regarding Mr. Darcy; I know this must be a blow to him, but if he has any advice or thoughts on how W. is to be found, I beg of you to send word to my father immediately.

Elizabeth’s distress on reading this was great, and she scarce knew what to say or how to look. Lydia and Wickham! She grieved for her lost sister, she feared for the well-being of her family, and she could only be horrified by the prospect of Darcy’s response to this news. His sister-in-law, not only ruined, but by Wickham! The mortification would be nigh unbearable, and such proof of the weakness of her family must make him regret their alliance. How were they to explain what could not be hidden to Georgiana?

She could not hide this intelligence, however, and despite her fear over her reception she knew she must go to him immediately—but how could this not come between them in the most hurtful manner? Was one day of marital happiness all they were to have? She caught her breath on a sob, and before her courage could fade away, she took herself to his study, where she found him working behind his desk.

He looked up as she appeared at the door, and, seeing her look so miserably ill, he said with more feeling than politeness, “Good God, what is the matter?”

She looked at his beloved face and burst into bitter tears. He strode to her side immediately. “Elizabeth, what is it? You must tell me, dearest. Is it news from Jane?” Wordlessly she handed him the letters, and then sat down, unable to support herself any longer.

Darcy, torn between reading the letters and comforting Elizabeth, who was clearly beyond any explanation of the matter, compromised by kneeling beside her and taking her hand while he scanned the letters. His face was fixed with astonishment as he read the first, and when he came to the second, a few words unsuited to a lady’s presence escaped him. She burst into tears on seeing his contracted brow, and she covered her face with a handkerchief, not wanting to see his face when he looked up at her with knowledge of her sister’s disgrace.

His shock and horror was great, but his concern for Elizabeth was even greater. He put his arms around her compassionately, wishing for something he could say that would comfort her.

“When I consider,” she said in an agitated voice, “that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only—some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had his character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now.”

“It is too late to stop it, but not too late to mend it, dearest. They shall be found, and he shall be made to marry her,” he said in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner.

She shook her head in distress. “Nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!”

He took her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. “Elizabeth, there is nothing easier in the world than working on Wickham—all it takes is money. If I know Wickham, he will not be hiding so much as waiting to be discovered so that he can make his demands. You must have faith in me, my dearest; you know that I have dealt with him before, and I can do it again.”

She looked at him with eyes filled with pain. “I cannot ask it of you—you cannot take on the mortification of this; it is a matter for my family.”

“Good God, what do you think I am? You married me yesterday, Elizabeth, and I am your family, and, if I may venture a guess, I am the ultimate cause for this dreadful affair, and it lies to me to remedy it,” he said forcefully.

“How could you be the cause? It is Lydia’s weakness, Lydia’s folly, and my wretched, wretched mistake of failing to explain what I knew when my eyes were opened to his real character.”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Elizabeth, please listen to me. Does Lydia know of our engagement?”

“I cannot say—I suppose she must, that my mother must have written her with the news; she no doubt sent it to everyone she could,” she said hesitantly.

“And Lydia would no doubt have reported it to Wickham, knowing his opinion of me. You cannot suppose that she was the true inducement—she has no money that can tempt him, but she has that connection to me. No, Elizabeth, this has everything to do with me; this is just what he attempted last summer with Georgiana, but now he is trying to strike at me through you.”

She stared at him in horror—she had not thought so ill, even of Wickham, as to think that his vengeance would extend so far. Darcy, misinterpreting the look on her face, leaned his forehead against hers, and whispered sorrowfully, “Can you ever forgive me, my dearest, for bringing this upon you?”

“You have done nothing to cause this,” she said fiercely. “You are not to blame for Wickham’s behavior, nor for Lydia’s, and I will not have you fault yourself for it!”

He held her close to him, wishing that he could take this grief from her. “Elizabeth, I need to consider what must be done. Is there nothing I could bring you for your present relief? A glass of wine, shall I get you one?”

“No, I thank you, nothing but you,” she said none too fluently.

He removed himself to the chair beside her, where he could continue to hold her hand while he considered matters. Finally he said, “The Gardiners will return here tonight; even if I sent a messenger to Matlock now, it would not bring them back in time to leave today, and there is no point in worrying them before anything can be done. You and I shall leave for London tomorrow morning, where we will meet your father and begin efforts to discover them.”

“Jane asks me to return to Longbourn, and I have no doubt she needs my help and support in dealing with my mother,” she said tentatively.

Darcy shook his head decisively. “Jane does not know the full situation, and she has Bingley with her for support. I will need you with me to deal with Lydia; I doubt she would listen to anything I have to say—and I will need you myself, I have no doubt. Perhaps the Gardiners could go to Longbourn instead.”

It will take me some time to accustom myself to the idea that my first loyalties must now go to him, and not to my family, she thought. I must remember that I am his wife now, as unconventional as our wedding may have been. With an unpleasant shock, it came to her how their abrupt marriage would look to her family in light of these new events, and what her father would feel faced with another daughter who had been rushed to the altar.

The day seemed interminable to Elizabeth. She would have preferred to be taking some form of action, but apart from overseeing the packing for the trip to London, there was little she could do but wait and worry. Her mind kept flying to Lydia, fretting over her safety as well as her future, for what future could there be for her, either as Wickham’s wife or as a ruined woman? Wickham would never be able to provide for her in any sort of acceptable manner—her lot would be continual poverty and the misery of a marriage to a liar and wastrel, and this was to be the best possible outcome. The humiliation and misery that Lydia was bringing on her family also pained her; not only would it materially affect the marriage chances of Kitty and Mary, and delay, possibly indefinitely, the wedding of Jane and Bingley, but its effects on the Darcy family must be considered as well. She could only imagine the extent to which Darcy would be mortified by the continued connection to Wickham, and there was no question that the news would be hurtful to Georgiana. Darcy had been clear that he did not wish to blame her in any way for it, but Elizabeth could not help but worry whether his ability to keep separate his feelings about Lydia and about her was strong enough to keep this affair from contaminating his affection for her.

Her anger and shock at Lydia’s behavior led to further unpleasant thoughts as she considered her own conduct in recent days and weeks. She was appalled by Lydia’s choices, yet how were they so very different from her own? Was it not mere good fortune on her part that her lapses, though every bit as grave as Lydia’s, were to go quite unpunished while her sister suffered irreparable damage? She had begun to feel less troubled by her permissive behavior as it became clear that the consequences would not be severe, but this situation could not but bring back to her awareness the gravity of her own errors.

The Gardiners and Georgiana returned in the late afternoon, and after Darcy had taken a few minutes to greet his sister, he asked the others to join him in his study, where Elizabeth was awaiting them. One look at her face was enough to convince Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner that all was not well, and after they had perused Jane’s letters and heard an explanation from Darcy detailing his connection with Wickham, as well as the past behavior of that gentleman, they readily offered any possible help in resolving the situation. While in general agreement with the plans drawn up by Darcy, Mr. Gardiner felt that his presence in London could be useful, and after some discussion it was resolved that he would travel to town with Darcy and Elizabeth while Mrs. Gardiner proceeded to Longbourn, accompanied by servants from Pemberley for her safety and the sake of propriety. She would stay there as long as required before returning to London with the children, and it was agreed that she would not reveal Elizabeth’s marriage at present, given the apparent level of distress already present in the household.

After the Gardiners left to refresh themselves before dinner, Elizabeth remained with Darcy, drawing comfort in her distress from his presence. She was still there when Georgiana came in to tell her brother about her stay at Matlock. Seeing Elizabeth’s tear-stained face and her brother’s grave countenance, Georgiana immediately inquired as to the cause of their distress.

“It is nothing of any import, Georgiana, merely a minor difficulty,” Darcy said reassuringly. “You need not trouble yourself over it.”

Georgiana looked unconvinced, knowing well the extent to which her brother strove to keep unpleasantness from her. “If it is not so serious, please tell me, then, else I shall continue to worry about it.”

“Georgiana,” her brother said with a warning in his voice.

She gave him a pained look. “You cannot keep me a child forever, William,” she said softly, turning to leave them.

Elizabeth said, “Georgiana, wait. I believe that she has a point, William. She cannot be protected from this for long, and it is my belief that she has the strength to handle it.”

“I hardly think that this is the time…” Darcy fell silent as he noted the look on Elizabeth’s face. “Well, if you think it best, I will trust your judgment.”

Elizabeth gave him a grateful look and took Georgiana’s hand. “We received some bad news from Longbourn today, and I fear that it will prove particularly distressing to you. It seems that my youngest sister, Lydia, who was in Brighton while you were at Netherfield, has eloped, or perhaps more accurately, has run off, with none other than Mr. Wickham.”

Georgiana’s face froze, and then took on a look of concerted control that Elizabeth found strikingly similar to that which she had observed on Darcy’s face on like occasions. “I see,” she said quietly.

“Elizabeth and I will be leaving for London in the morning, as will the Gardiners, in an attempt to discover them,” Darcy said gently. “I will, of course, send you word as soon as we have any news.”

She was silent for a moment, and then said, “I will keep you in my prayers.” She turned to leave, causing an anxious look to pass over her brother’s face. “Thank you for telling me, William,” she said before departing hastily.

“Perhaps I should go after her,” Darcy said worriedly.

“Give her a little time first,” said Elizabeth. “Had she wanted to talk, she would have stayed.” Although she was also concerned about Georgiana’s reaction, she had greater faith than Darcy in his sister’s ability to take care of herself.

It was at a rather subdued dinner that evening that Georgiana announced her intention to accompany them to town. Taken off guard, Darcy said, “I hardly think it necessary for you to undertake so long a journey. This is not a particularly pleasant time of year to be in town, after all.”

“Nonetheless, I would like to go,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

Darcy looked at her, perplexed. It was unlike Georgiana to argue with him, and that she would do so in front of others was quite startling. He did not wish to hurt her feelings at a time when she must already be feeling quite sensitive, but the last thing he wanted was to have to worry about Georgiana’s feelings when he was trying to deal with Wickham.

Elizabeth said, “You sound as if this is quite important to you, Georgiana.”

Georgiana glanced at her in relief. “Yes, it is,” she said, her voice a little steadier.

“I doubt that there will be any time for outings or pleasurable activities,” said Darcy.

She took a deep breath. “I do not require anyone to amuse me, William. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

Darcy thought to himself that he would never understand the workings of his sister’s mind, and certainly not the moments when she chose to assert herself. “Elizabeth, what are your thoughts?” he asked.

Elizabeth folded her napkin. “If she wishes to come, I see no objection,” she said, her eyes meeting her husband’s, hoping to communicate to him the need to recognize Georgiana’s steps toward independence.

He sighed. “Very well, then, Georgiana, you may come if you wish.”

Later, when Georgiana was able to speak to Elizabeth privately, she thanked her for her support. “It is not that I think that there is anything I can do to help, but I do not want to spend the rest of my life trying to avoid whatever part of the country he might be in. This seems as good a time as any to face my fears.”

Elizabeth embraced her. “I am glad that you have the courage to face it now. That is the first step to healing.”

“I cannot help but think that it could have been me, but for the chance of William’s arrival,” she said softly. “I was such a fool. You would never have been taken in so, Elizabeth.”

“I beg to differ, I spent a good deal of time in Mr. Wickham’s company, and I was quite taken with his amiability and manners. I even believed lies that he told me about your brother,” Elizabeth said ruefully.

“I find that hard to believe!” Georgiana exclaimed, then, realizing what she had said, timidly retreated, saying, “I do not mean to doubt your word, Elizabeth; it is only that it surprises me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It seems we are all vulnerable to having our hearts lead us astray from what is right,” she said, thinking of the principles she had violated in her behavior with Darcy.

When Darcy came to her that night, she was curled up in the window seat looking out into the starlit darkness. He was aware that Elizabeth had been out of spirits since reading Jane’s letters, and had been somewhat at a loss as to how to comfort her. His belief that his presence in her life had been the cause of Wickham’s choice of Lydia made it difficult for him to approach her; he could not help but think that she would consider any joy that they had to have been purchased by the misery of her sister, and that she would resent him for it. The idea that she might withdraw from him was like a knife wound, sharp and intense, and it took all his courage to draw near her.

It was something of a reassurance that she immediately put her arms around him, laying her head upon his shoulder. She had been longing for the comfort of his embrace and the forgetfulness she could find in his arms, even as her sense of shame over her lack of self-control with him continued to increase.

He held her close, awash in the paradoxical feelings of freedom that he felt only at her touch, and, unable to keep his feelings inside him, murmured, “I love you so very much, Elizabeth; I cannot imagine my life without you by my side.” He could feel some of the tension leave her body at his words, but as she remained silent, his anxiety grew. “Dearest love,” he said finally, “please say something, or I shall be leaping to the worst possible conclusion again.”

She looked up at him in surprise, hearing the seriousness of his words beneath the apparently playful tone. Having been caught up in her own concerns, she had given little thought to what his might be. “And what would that conclusion be?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes, and not without anxiety said, “That you could not forgive me for what has happened to Lydia.”

“William, I remain in awe of your ability to concoct reasons for me to be angry with you. Should I ever desire to have a fit of pique, I will certainly come to you to obtain an appropriately far-fetched justification. No, I do not blame you in any way; you have been everything that is kind and supportive, and I have no complaints whatsoever.”

He could not help but smile at her look of amusement. “I am relieved to hear it. It worries me when you are out of spirits and reserved as you have been today.”

She wished for the ability to express her anxieties to him as easily as he seemed to do with her. “I…” she began, but found herself unable to continue, and responded instinctively by reaching up to kiss him in a way that left him without doubts as to her intentions. Surprised, but by no means averse to such a notion, he returned her attentions with interest, tasting the pleasures of her mouth and running his hands down to her hips.

She did not pull back until she was breathless with desire, her body clamoring for the pleasure and release that only he could give her. Feeling their closeness, she was finally able to voice her fears. “I am afraid of this coming between us,” she confessed, her voice uneven.

“No,” he said strongly, taking her face in his hands. “Nothing is going to come between us again—I will not allow it.” He kissed her passionately and deeply, as if branding her with his truth. “My love,” he groaned, his mouth traveling along her jaw and down her neck. “Never think such a thing, never!”

Elizabeth was too caught up in the pleasure of his kisses to respond. When he finally raised his mouth, Darcy said, “I hope you are convinced, my love, that this matter of Lydia will not come between us.”

She smiled, affectionately caressing his chest. “You made yourself quite clear on the subject, William,” she responded.

“That is not quite the same as saying that you are convinced,” he said suspiciously.

Nestling against him, she said, “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that some issues remain unresolved for me.”

“May I ask what those would be?”

She had to kiss him before finding the courage to answer. “I find that I am quite unhappy with Lydia’s behavior, and, at the same time, I find it to be not particularly different from my own, and this is a source of some dissatisfaction.”

He frowned. “Is this because we anticipated our marriage vows?”

“That, and… well, I did permit a great deal before that, as well.”

“Not as much as I asked.”

“Nonetheless.”

It was only a short step in Darcy’s mind from distress over her behavior to anger at the one who provoked and encouraged that behavior. His anxiety rose, despite his efforts to quell it. She would hardly be in my arms if she were angry with me, he thought. For God’s sake, do not try to read more into her words than is there; she needs support, not conflict. Carefully, he said, “While there are superficial similarities, I believe that your situation was quite different from Lydia’s.”

“Yes, in that it is my good fortune not to pay a price for my errors.”

He sighed. “Elizabeth, you once thought highly of Wickham. If he had asked you to elope with him then, would you have done it?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why not?”

“Well, it would have been an imprudent match, and if I chose to ignore that, why elope? There would have been no reason not to follow the normal course, and it would have made me suspicious if he did not wish to do so.”

“Would you have let him kiss you?” Darcy hoped fervently that his question would not be answered in the affirmative.

She flushed. “Of course not.”

“But you let me kiss you,” he said, and followed his words with action.

When he released her, she said mischievously, “You were more tempting.”

“A very attractive answer, my love, but I doubt that temptation would be your only consideration.”

“Mmm… it would depend on how tempting it was. Very well, I shall be serious, if you insist. You had made your intentions clear, and I knew that you would not shirk your responsibilities. I accept your point, sir.”

“And when I took you to my bed, we were formally and publicly engaged, which is not to say that it was acceptable on either of our parts, but it is a far cry from running off with a man for no good reason! But I do have one question for you.”

“What is that?”

“How tempting was I?”

She smiled, and traced the line of his jaw with her finger. “Very, very tempting,” she said. “Tempting enough to make me love you when I was determined not to.”

“Thank God for that!” he said, gazing into the eyes that had so bewitched him when he had been equally determined not to care, and kissed the woman who had become the source of all his happiness.

They set off early the next morning in the Darcy travelling carriage, a luxurious conveyance that would make excellent time on the trip to London. At first, conversation amongst the travelers was somewhat stilted, as the topic on everyone’s mind was not one that was suitable for discussion in front of Georgiana. After a time, however, Elizabeth was able to find an interest in the new countryside through which they were passing. Darcy, who was naturally quite familiar with the route, was happy to point out sights along the way.

They traveled as expeditiously as possible; and after sleeping one night on the road, reached Gracechurch Street the following evening. When they reached the outskirts of London, Elizabeth’s mind turned to upcoming events. Her anxiety grew as they approached Gracechurch Street; she knew that her concern should all be for Lydia at this point, but she could not help but wonder if her father would be at the Gardiners’ house, and if so, how he would react to the news of her marriage. It was certainly not the setting in which she would have chosen to inform him of it, and she dreaded the idea of discussing the circumstances leading to it.

Her fears were realized when they arrived; Mr. Bennet came downstairs to greet them when informed of their coming. He appeared exhausted, and there were new lines around his eyes. Elizabeth felt all the attendant concern one would expect for her father, and worried about how her news would affect him.

Mr. Bennet had not anticipated seeing Mr. Gardiner for a day or two yet, since he had expected him to stop at Longbourn; the arrival of Darcy, Elizabeth, and Georgiana was a complete surprise. Nonetheless, he greeted them all warmly, with an embrace for his daughter, and thanked Darcy for bringing Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner to the city so promptly.

Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, then at Mr. Gardiner, who made a motion with his eyes. “Mr. Bennet, may I speak with you privately?” he asked.

“Now?” inquired Mr. Bennet, not having failed to notice the interaction.

“Yes, sir,” said Darcy determinedly.

“I believe that I shall join you as well,” said Mr. Gardiner. “Lizzy, will you entertain Miss Darcy in our absence? Our cook can no doubt provide some sort of refreshment for you.”

“Of course,” she said, wondering whether she should ask to participate in the discussion, but it seemed that Darcy and her uncle felt it better that she did not. She watched after them with concern as they withdrew to the study.

“Well, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet as he seated himself. “What can I do for you?”

“There are two matters that I need to broach with you, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy, nervously twisting his signet ring. “The first is regarding the reason I came to London, which is that I know some of Wickham’s connections in London as well as his habits, which I hope will be of assistance in discovering him.”

“Any assistance will be welcome,” Mr. Bennet said.

“Perhaps we could meet in the morning to discuss this further,” Darcy ventured.

Had he been in a better state of mind, Mr. Bennet would have found Darcy’s tentativeness and obvious disquiet entertaining, but his patience and tolerance had suffered a great deal over the past days. “As you wish,” he said briefly.

The easy part over, Darcy braced himself for the storm. He had hoped that his offer to find Wickham would at least warm Mr. Bennet toward him, and his demeanor became more distant and cool as he tried to disguise his anxiety. “The other matter of which I need to inform you will no doubt come as something of a surprise; it is that Elizabeth and I were married Tuesday last in Matlock.”

Mr. Bennet’s face registered shock. He folded his hands quietly in front of him as he stared intently at Darcy. “What did you say?”

“Your daughter and I are married,” Darcy said, his voice inflexible and reactionless.

“Without a word to me?” Mr. Bennet said in a conversational tone that was belied by his affect.

“Yes,” Darcy said briefly. “We had intended to travel to Longbourn later this week to acquaint you with the matter, but events have interfered with those plans.”

“Did it occur to you, Mr. Darcy, that I might be less than pleased with this development?” An element of disbelief entered Mr. Bennet’s voice.

“I did not expect you to be pleased, sir.” Darcy began to worry that Mr. Bennet’s reaction was going to be even worse than he had feared.

“And yet you went ahead with it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why you decided to completely disregard what you knew to be my wishes and the plans of my family?” Mr. Bennet’s voice was beginning to rise, an almost unheard of occurrence in a man who had always employed humor to defuse difficult situations.

Darcy, feeling that his father-in-law had every reason to be angry, and aware that his reply was likely to make him angrier still, said in what he hoped to be a calm voice, “It was necessary.”

“It was necessary?”

Mr. Gardiner, concerned by the escalation of the situation, decided it was time to intervene. “He had my agreement,” he said gently. When Mr. Bennet’s eyes turned to him in furious disbelief, he added, “I did not see any better alternative under the circumstances.”

Mr. Bennet could not believe, would not believe what his brother-in-law was implying. “Under what circumstances?” he asked slowly, as if the words were being dragged out of him. Not his Lizzy…

Darcy’s eyes were carefully focused on a point in midair, as if close attention to some imaginary detail there would cause the question to evaporate into nothingness. Finally Mr. Gardiner said, “Under the circumstances that they needed to marry as soon as possible.”

The silence this produced was profound and long-lasting as Mr. Bennet considered the implications. Elizabeth was already married, she was no longer of his household, but was mistress of Darcy’s; he had not given her away, but rather she had been taken from him. His lively, witty, clever Lizzy was no longer his, and now she belonged to the oft-disagreeable man in front of him, who had seduced her and won her unfairly. He eyed Darcy with a deep fury. “Do you have anything to say in your own defense, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy refocused his gaze on Mr. Bennet. “Nothing at all, sir,” he said evenly.

Mr. Bennet exhaled sharply. Biting out his words, he said, “I should have expected this after what happened in Hertfordshire. Of all the irresponsible, heedless, selfish…”

Mr. Gardiner’s hand clamped down tightly on his arm. He said mildly, “I am glad to say that Lizzy does not seem to be distressed by the circumstances of her marriage, and were I to venture a guess, I believe that she finds it to be something of a relief, although she has been quite concerned about your reaction.”

The thought of Elizabeth’s worry softened her father slightly, forcing him to recall that alienating Darcy would only interfere in his closeness to her. “Lizzy has taken this well, then?” he asked Mr. Gardiner.

“Were it not for the situation with Lydia, I would say that she is very happy,” replied Mr. Gardiner.

Mr. Bennet could have found it in his heart to wish that she would be a little more unhappy about leaving her home and family, but he knew Lizzy’s nature well. “Well, as there is little I can do about this, perhaps the less said, the better,” he said grudgingly.

Darcy inclined his head silently in acknowledgment.

The lines of exhaustion showed more prominently in Mr. Bennet’s face as he quelled his anger. He stood, saying, “I would like to speak with Lizzy now.”

Darcy forestalled him. “I will bring her in, then. My sister is not aware of the circumstances of our wedding, and I prefer that she not be involved in this.”

Mr. Bennet could not resist a final knife thrust. “You would not care to have your sister follow your example, then.”

“Mr. Bennet, if you wish to label me irresponsible, reckless, and selfish I shall not argue with you, but I am not a fool,” snapped Darcy, having reached the end of his tolerance. He regretted his show of temper almost instantly, and as he put his hand to the door, said, “I hope that you understand that I love your daughter very much.”

“Not enough to respect her, apparently.”

“Look at it as you will, then, sir,” Darcy said with finality as he exited.

Mr. Bennet dropped his head into his hands. Looking on with concern, Mr. Gardiner said, “While you are considering what he has done, do not neglect to think of what he has not done—he did not make an attempt to hide what happened from either you or me, he did not simply hope that there would be no consequences of the event and proceed with the plans, and he did not attempt to justify himself.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Bennet with a bitter humor. “Compared to the other young man who seduced one of my daughters, his behavior is admirable, but you will have to forgive me if I bear a grudge that it happened at all.”

“I understand completely. However, I do think that he is doing the best he can with a difficult situation, and that he has made every attempt to take responsibility for what he has done. And although I cannot excuse it, the fact of the matter is that the attachment between them is as passionate a one as I have ever seen, and being in such close proximity did put them in a certain amount of peril.”

Another thought occurred to Mr. Bennet, and he looked at Mr. Gardiner with displeasure. “And where were you when this was happening?” he asked sharply.

Mr. Gardiner looked at him with some sympathy. “I was asleep, as is my habit during the night.”

Mr. Bennet closed his eyes, and said tiredly, “My apologies, Edward. I should not have implied that this was your fault in any way. I just cannot believe that Lizzy would behave in this way. Lydia, certainly, or Kitty, but Lizzy? And what can she possibly see in him?”

“He can be very pleasant and charming,” said Mr. Gardiner earnestly, “and he does appear to love Lizzy beyond all measure. Surely you can find something in common with him there.”