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Ahem. Well, once more, this is a Saturday post instead of a Friday one. It's aso the last one.
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Chapter 4: In Which Troubles Are Conquered to the Happiness of All
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Netherfield, Tuesday 19 November
It had been decided that the Darcys would leave for London early that afternoon. Bingley had spoken of giving a ball in honour of the reunion of Elizabeth with her family, and, on seeing how this notion pleased him, his guests agreed to the suggestion, much to Miss Bingley's dismay, for she thought her talents would be wasted on the neighbourhood. She nonetheless graciously agreed, and had tasked Elizabeth with finding a couple of things that could not, in her opinion, be found anywhere else than in Bond Street.
As it had been decided, Benedict had been left in the care of his grandmother and aunts the previous day. His nurse had gone with him, and as Elizabeth would rather rest before their trip, Darcy had gone alone to call at Longbourn in order to pay their farewells. However, he had barely left that he was there again, apparently angry.
"Darcy? Why are you back already?"
"I turned when I reached Meryton. Wickham is here." He scowled.
"This is quite a coincidence! How did it come to pass?"
At this, her husband appeared slightly sheepish.
"I do not know—I did not stay to ask."
"What was he doing?"
"Conversing with an officer, a clergyman, and your sisters."
"My sisters!" Elizabeth cried.
"I am sorry," said Darcy, truly apologetic now. "I did not think to stay and protect them from him."
"He cannot have done much harm after only one introduction," she comforted him. "I shall write to Jane or Mary and ask them what they know."
"Why them and not also the youngest?"
"They appear to have eyes only for the officers. Unless Mr Wickham is here because he took a commission in the —shire regiment, he could be as invisible to them as my father's ridiculous heir."
"Who?"
"The cleric you saw, I suppose. He arrived while I was visiting yesterday afternoon."
"Perhaps I should ride back to Longbourn at once and convey our goodbyes before he is back, then."
Elizabeth laughed and waved her husband away. He came some time later, having accomplished his mission. Mr Bennet had been his ordinary unengaged self, Mrs Bennet declared herself desolate that they were already gone—even though it was only for one week—and he had the misfortune to encounter the cousin, who was as ridiculous as Elizabeth had described him. The man happened to be the vicar of Hunsford, which abutted Rosings, and he was very voluble when it came to praising his patroness. His rambling had been made worse by the fact that, somehow, he had learned that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was Darcy's aunt. Extricating himself had been complicated, and Darcy had resorted to cutting short the discussion at the end.
A carriage between Meryton and London, late that afternoon
"We are nearly home!" Elizabeth exclaimed on seeing their surroundings. "Do we really have to visit the Gardiners when we are in London?"
"Your mother gave us a letter of introduction. It is the polite thing to do."
"Can it not wait until the spring?" she nearly whined. "We dined with the Philipses only yesterday. Have you seen how vulgar they are? And he's a solicitor—the uncle in London is in trade!"
"Perhaps you will find him and his wife more agreeable than the Philipses," said Darcy with little to no conviction in his voice.
Elizabeth shot him a disbelieving glance.
"Jane appears to like them," was her husband's reply.
"As far as I can tell," she shot back, "Jane appears to like everyone—even sincerely, at that."
"Nonetheless, it would be rude to seek to escape the connection. If you wish, We shall send our card for them to call rather than go ourselves."
Elizabeth scowled, but nodded. A little afterwards, she sighed.
"Am I a hypocrite?"
"No! Of course not, my darling. Why would you think such a thing?"
"Is it not obvious? I seek ways to deny my family because I feel better than them, when they are my blood."
"They are, yes, but we do not judge them on blood or social standing. I would not object to the Philipses if they had a little more decorum."
Elizabeth sighed again. "Let us hope that the Gardiners are a little better. It would not be as easy to avoid them when we are in London. The Bennets will ... expect us to associate with them."
"You are not a hypocrite, Elizabeth. It is natural that you feel so unsettled. You do not want to disappoint the family you found again, yet you cannot see them with the eyes of a daughter who has grown amidst them and is somewhat blind to their faults."
Elizabeth sighed again, and snuggled against her husband for the rest of the journey.
London, Thursday 21 November
Georgiana had been happy to meet with her brother and sister, and was eager to follow them to Hertfordshire. While her trunks and those of Mrs Younge were being packed, the Darcys did not stay idle : Darcy went to his club and saw his man of business; the ladies went shopping to procure the items Miss Bingley wished for.
On Thursday morning, before they left for Bond Street, Miss Darcy attended one last music lesson under the chaperonage of Mrs Younge. Darcy was already out, and Elizabeth was sewing at the window when a carriage stopped before the steps of their town-house. A young couple, the woman older than Darcy by some years, alighted and went to the door. They appeared to be people of fashion, and Elizabeth had wondered whether they were new neighbours or old acquaintances of Darcy.
She had been wrong on both counts.
"A Mr and Mrs Gardiner to see you, ma'am."
Elizabeth sat in stunned silence for a heartbeat before recollecting herself and asking the butler to show them in.
They were not at all as Elizabeth had thought.
They were … restrained. Polite, well-informed, clever. Had Elizabeth not known Mr Gardiner was related to Mrs Philips and Mrs Bennet, she would never have guessed it, even though they shared some physical traits.
"I can see you are surprised, Li—Mrs Darcy," said her uncle with a smile.
"I had thought I had been able to better conceal it," answered Elizabeth ruefully.
"You have done well," said her uncle, "but it is not the first time I met with someone who had first met with my sisters. I know the signs—and I know your expressions."
"Edward! Will you stop embarrassing your niece?" his wife scolded before turning towards Elizabeth. "I do not know whether my sister told you, but I spent some of my childhood in Lambton. I left before you arrived at Pemberley, and as I was too young to have been a faithful correspondent, I would appreciate having fresh news of the village."
This Elizabeth could happily supply, and the two women discussed their fond memories and the area and found they had some acquaintances in common
When the clock chimed the hour, Elizabeth was dismayed to see that nearly half an hour had gone since her relatives had come, for she would have liked to spend more time getting acquainted with them. Her wish appeared to be shared, for her aunt, having enquired whether they had plans the following evening and receiving a negative answer, invited all the Darcys to dine at Gracechurch Street that day. Elizabeth was happy to accept.
London, Friday 22 November
Mr Darcy had helped his sister and wife alight from their carriage in front of a well-kept house in Gracechurch Street.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Elizabeth?"
"How many more times will you ask this?"
He did not answer, for a manservant opened the door and they were led to an elegant drawing-room where they were warmly welcomed by the Gardiners. Darcy found them as agreeable as Elizabeth had described them, and the five of them soon fell in easy conversation.
After dinner, the children of the couple had been briefly introduced—they were as well-behaved as Jane had painted them. The youngest boy, in particular, held Elizabeth's interest, for he was of an age with her son.
As the hour grew late, goodbyes were exchanged, along with promises to spend similar evenings together in the future.
"This was a very enjoyable evening," said Darcy as he and Elizabeth were back in their chambers. "I really liked the Gardiners. Would you like to have them at Pemberley this summer?"
"I believe I would, yes. I should enjoy knowing Mrs Gardiner better."
Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it. Elizabeth frowned.
"Do you not agree with me?"
"I do."
"You appeared hesitant."
"I was about to say something best kept unsaid."
"Now you must tell me!" said Elizabeth with a laugh. "Worry not, I am perfectly ready to listen to something awful with perfect equanimity."
"Very well," he said, rolling his eyes. "I am relieved that the Gardiners are relatives who will not embarrass us with their behaviour, especially since it would be more difficult to politely escape them than your Hertfordshire relations. Now, despise me if you dare."
"How could I?" she answered with a sigh. "I was thinking exactly the same thing. I must warn you, though, that Mrs Gardiner may well become my favourite aunt."
"Lady Catherine will be disappointed."
The following day, the Darcys departed for Netherfield again.
Netherfield, Monday 25 November
During their absence, Miss Bingley had been busy with the upcoming ball's preparations, and as she had complained the day before of the number of things that still needed to be done, Miss Darcy who had volunteered her help. It had been eagerly accepted by their hostess, who hoped to forward a match between her brother and the young lady—once the former's infatuation with Miss Bennet dwindled.
They stepped outside to select the best of the last blooms, and Miss Bingley seized the opportunity to sing her brother's praises.
"We are both blessed with wonderful brothers, Miss Bingley," Miss Darcy replied.
"Charles will make someday a wonderful husband, too," added Miss Bingley with a sly smile.
"Very soon, I dare say. Have you seen how Miss Bennet is never far from his thoughts?"
"I fear that my brother is always enamoured with one young lady or another."
"I overheard my brother and sister, and it appears that his interest in her is not fleeting—it was love at first sight, and it endured time. Is that not the most romantic thing you have ever witnessed?" whispered Miss Darcy with a dreamy sigh.
"It … is."
And with that, Miss Bingley's plans were put to rest. While it would certainly be possible to redirect her brother's interest and lead Miss Darcy to see him differently, it would need work, time, and it was by no means certain that Charles would not fall for another lovely young lady before Miss Darcy learned to see him as a possible suitor.
As it stood now, her brother only wanted for a little encouragement to make an offer of marriage to Miss Bennet, and though her portion was ridiculously small and she did not have every connection Miss Bingley would like, she still was Mrs Darcy's sister, and that would be enough to consolidate their position in society. Perhaps this alliance would allow her to achieve by herself a connection with the Fitzwilliams—the Viscount, though not completely out of her reach, would probably look at titled ladies first, but Miss Bingley believed that her dowry would be of some interest to the younger son. Having thus set for herself another goal, she coaxed Miss Darcy to speak about her family while they continued selecting flowers.
While the two young ladies were thus occupied, Mrs Younge had offered to go to Longbourn to bring the youngest Darcy back to his parents, along with his nurse. Her offer was gratefully accepted, and if it was noticed that she took a longer time than expected, the rain was deemed responsible for this. The coachman thought nothing of the halt that was made in Meryton on their way to Longbourn, nor about the discussion she had with one of the newest officers in the militia, and did not mention it to anyone.
Netherfield, Tuesday 26 November
Much to Miss Bingley's satisfaction, the ball was a success. The decorations were neither too sparse nor ostentatious, the white soup was done to perfection, and the best quartet of musicians had been hired for the evening. Thanks to the militia officers, no young lady had been left in want of a partner.
The younger Miss Bennets were particularly glad of this fact, even though their new favourite had unfortunately been unable to attend. One of his friends had informed Lydia that, just the day before, the dashing Mr Wickham had accepted a last-minute mission from his colonel, and he had left for London. She could bear such a loss with equanimity, particularly since there were enough officers who danced with her to allow her to escape a dance with her cousin.
The ball went, on the whole, rather well. Mrs Bennet was loud, and the younger Bennets embarrassing, each in their own way, but since they were surrounded by neighbours who knew them all their lives and officers who would rather not lose any opportunity to get an invitation at dinner to Longbourn, everyone turned a blind eye to it.
When the ball came to an end, it appeared that Mrs Bennet had engineered for her carriage to be called last—and late. Miss Bingley and her sister were visibly annoyed by her machinations, for they would rather have retired. Lydia Bennet obviously shared their feelings, and made no mystery of her tiredness. While Mrs Bennet loudly shared her thoughts about the evening, Miss Bennet and Mr Bingley quietly conversed in a corner of the hall, far away from the others to avoid being overheard.
That is, until the lady rose with a joyful exclamation.
Every head turned towards them at once, and, on seeing themselves the object of general scrutiny, the young people blushed.
"Is there something you want to share?" said Mr Bennet with a smirk.
Mr Bingley exchanged a glance with Miss Bennet and, after seeing her nod, he said: "I have the joy to tell you that Miss Bennet has agreed to marry me. Will you give us your blessing?"
Mr Bennet did not have the time to answer, for his wife took upon herself to joyfully exclaim: "Of course he does! Oh, Jane, I knew that you could not be so beautiful for nothing. Another daughter married! I shall go distracted—"
"Yes, yes," her husband cut, looking slightly peeved. "I imagine that I ought not to have expected to have a say in the alliances of any of my daughters. Welcome into the family, Mr Bingley. Mrs Bennet, I believe our carriage has come."
To the relief of everyone, this cut short Mrs Bennet's effusions.
"I strongly advise you, Charles, to not renew the lease when the year is up. She might mean well, but you do not want Mrs Bennet near you for long."
The whole Netherfield party nodded at Miss Bingley's words.
Pemberley, early February 1812
Georgiana had gone back to London with Mrs Younge, but Elizabeth and Darcy, having recently realised that she was awaiting their second child, had elected to stay in the country rather than taking part in the Season. They were currently at breakfast, reading their letters.
"Lady Catherine writes that your cousin has married," said Darcy.
"Yes, I remember that my mother had endeavoured to push Mary at him, and she appeared happy enough to moralise at him."
"Ah, but would she not have mentioned this in one of her letters to you had her daughter been Collins's choice of a bride? Surely, Jane and Bingley's upcoming wedding cannot have her so distracted that she would forget another daughter's wedding."
"This … is true," said Elizabeth slowly. "She must be disappointed."
"So is Lady Catherine. She writes that she looked forward to performing the introductions next Easter and was most put out to learn that we met both her vicar and his bride."
"Did we? I wonder who she is."
"Does that mean that you will reconsider your refusal to travel?" Darcy asked with a smile.
"Certainly not! I learned my lesson the first time. I shall not let myself be trapped in a carriage for days while expecting!"
"I do not doubt that this is true, and I am also certain that you will suffer Lady Catherine's advice more willingly if it comes through a letter and you do not have to hide your huffs," her husband answered with a laugh.
"Hush." With a small smile on her lips, she picked Mrs Bennet's letter again. After a time, she said: "My mother, in between congratulating herself again for Jane's upcoming wedding and long effusions about where to find the best fabrics, complains more than once about the Lucases. I think one of them must be the bride. Which one, do you think?"
"They had two daughters out, I believe."
"Yes, Charlotte, who is about your age and Jane's friend; and Maria, who is much younger, and forever giggling with Kitty and Lydia."
"I would be disappointed in he eldest Miss Lucas for chosing to align herself with such a stupid man, but I think it must be her. If he was interested in a giggling, gossipy girl, your mother would have bragged about Lydia or Catherine having caught him. I imagine he rejected Mary because he must consider that it is his place to moralise, not hers."
"This is probably true," Elizabeth sighed. "I shall write back and try to ascertain whether we guessed right. Have you already written to Lady Catherine in order to decline her invitation?"
"I shall do this right away, as well as explain the reasons for our refusal. Prepare yourself to receive a long list of recommendations."
Elizabeth groaned.
Pemberley, early May 1812
The Darcys had been right: Charlotte Lucas had been the woman whom Collins chose as the companion of his future life. Mrs Bennet had soon been consoled by the fact that she could brag about having not one, but two daughters married, and well-married! Jane and Bingley had married in early April, in order to indulge the mother of the bride who had wanted to dazzle the neighbourhood with the most extravagant breakfast she could plan. Even Caroline Bingley had confessed to being impressed—but since it had been in a letter to Elizabeth, towards whom she tried to ingratiate herself, she might have been something less than sincere. The Bingleys had travelled in the north after their wedding, where they visited those of their families who had not attended the wedding, and they ended their trip with a stay of some weeks at Pemberley.
The sisters fell into each other's arms, but delayed any discussion until the newlyweds had refreshed themselves.
"How was your journey?" Elizabeth asked once they were all settled in a drawing-room before dinner.
"It was wonderful. We saw so many beautiful places, and Charles's family was truly welcoming."
"How could they not be?"
Jane, uncomfortable with her sister's praise, blushed and changed the subject.
"I am so glad to see you again, Lizzy!"
"So am I; I am sorry we could not be present at Longbourn for the wedding."
"It is obvious why you could not," she answered with a smile and a gesture towards her hostess's prominent belly. "I would not have wanted you to suffer so much discomfort on my account. How far along are you?"
"This little one ought to make his entry in the world sometime in June, but I own I am already tired of the wait."
"You never liked feeling sick," said Jane fondly, before she addressed Darcy. "I imagine that she made life at Pemberley interesting when she first came."
"She did," he answered, "but not for the reason you state. She was a very easy patient, possibly because she was so frightened."
"You also distracted me," countered Elizabeth. "There was so much that I had to learn about myself!"
"My father was sick at that time, and having Elizabeth with us was a godsend. Truly, Elizabeth," her husband went on when she tried to interrupt him. "Pemberley would have been much more gloomy without you. I was already grateful that you came into our lives then, even before I realised how great a treasure you were."
Pemberley, late May 1812
Jane Bingley had particularly enjoyed staying at Pemberley, for it had allowed her to observe the place which had seen her favourite sister grow from a girl into a young lady. Many stories were recounted, and at the end of the visit, the sisters separated closer than they had ever been.
The day after the Bingleys left, Elizabeth received a letter from Longbourn.
"Lydia is ecstatic because she was allowed to go to Brighton with the Forsters. She writes that it is a little disappointing that dear Wickham—"
"Dear Lord! After having failed with Georgiana, will he try with Lydia?"
"I do not think so," said Elizabeth, laying her hand on his arm. "My sister writes that she is disappointed, because he has sold his commission and has apparently decided to go back to studying the law."
"Really?"
"I am as doubtful as you are, but she writes he stated this. Of course, he did not reveal that it would be the second time he took such a course of study. Lydia also writes that he was abandoned by a young lady he was pursuing."
"How much money did she have?"
"Darcy!"
"You know very well that it is probably what happened. He went after the richest young lady in the area, and she must have had her eyes opened—or her family made her see more clearly. I wonder why he did not try to go after one of your sisters when at least Lydia was mad about him."
"You think this could have been a possibility, and you did not warn them?" cried Elizabeth.
"I never thought it was a real possibility, Elizabeth. Your sisters have no dowry to tempt him, and he knows that he could never sponge off us should he be connected to us through marriage."
"Perhaps you are right," said Elizabeth as she got back to her letter. She soon let go a dismayed exclamation.
"Elizabeth?"
"Wait, I must finish reading first," she said, raising a hand. When she was done, relief had replaced alarm on her face. She looked at her husband. "I am not sure whether I ought to cry or laugh."
"What happened?"
"You were wrong. Wickham must have believed that we would subsidize him should he marry Lydia."
"What?!"
"Yes. Shortly before he left the militia, he suggested that Lydia ran away to Scotland with him."
"And … she refused?"
"I ought to be angry that you thought so little of my sister, but I must own I wondered the same. Yes, she refused him, but not because of any sense of propriety."
"Do I even want to know what her reasoning was?"
"It might entertain you. Since she has already two sisters married, and one of them was in fact married in Scotland, she has no incentive to follow that road, since it would not set her apart from the rest. She plans to be the first Bennet daughter whose suitor will approach her father before making her an offer … and she also writes that she would like the wedding breakfast to be as spectacular as possible."
"Praise the Lord for your sister's shallowness."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Do you think that, since it is the second time Wickham failed with such a scheme—"
"The third, if we include the probable heiress."
"True. So, since he failed for the third time to convince a young girl to marry him, do you think he might have concluded that there is something wrong with him, and he will thereafter try to fool grown men rather than barely out, naive girls?"
"One can only hope."
In June, Elizabeth gave birth to a daughter, whom the happy parents named Jane after her maternal grandmother—much to the displeasure of her paternal aunt. The two matriarchs were soon engaged in a competition of sorts for the family's affection, visiting Pemberley when they were least expected and dispensing their wisdom to the half-amused, half exasperated Darcys.
On a memorable occasion, Mrs Bennet had barged into Pemberley during a visit of Lady Catherine. Darcy and Elizabeth first hoped that they would be too engaged in contradicting each other to have the opportunity to interfere in their family's life, but that hope was short-lived for, within two days of Mrs Bennet's arrival, she and her rival had joined forces. Their alliance made the subsequent familial reunions more peaceful, but not more quiet, and the Darcys found a new appreciation for Mr Bennet's habit of enclosing himself in his library as much as he could. That gentleman barely visited at all since his wife's visits to her married daughters guaranteed him a quiet house, but he had mended his fences with his son-in-law and become a half-reliable correspondent.
The ladies never learned that they were not the Darcys' favourite relatives. That title was evenly divided amongst the Bingleys, the Gardiners, and Georgiana and her husband, none of whom ever came without an invitation.
Elizabeth never recovered her memories, though it did not prevent her from feeling she was fully part of the Bennet family. She once joked that Darcy might never have married her had he met them early in their acquaintance, or, worse, met her at Longbourn while he was visiting his friend at Netherfield, to which he only rolled his eyes and replied he did not see how he could have let their exuberance and oddities keep him away from her once he had met her.
To the surprise of everyone who knew him, George Wickham would actually apply himself to studying the law and, though he would not become a barrister, he would find employment as a solicitor's clerk.
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There. The story is done. I hope you liked it!