Authors: Elizabeth Ann West
“All five? How absurd!”
“Yes, and the youngest was engaged this winter to a Mr. Wickham, but he left a great deal of debt and deserted the militia. It was quite the scandal.” By now, a number of other ladies nearby were craning their necks to listen in with a look of indifference. Caroline Bingley waited for the coup de grace, knowing if she didn’t do this correctly, all would be for naught.
“And where is this sister? I see only four of the Bennets.” Mrs. Courtney chimed in, asking the question most of the women in earshot all wanted to ask.
“Oh, she’s in town, staying with the aunt and uncle in trade. Big as a whale.” Caroline smiled as the ladies around her all gasped. Applause broke out as the song ended, and the couples left the dance floor. Of course, all it took was the hustle and bustle of such a change in music for the gossip group to fan out in the ballroom.
Elizabeth smiled at William as he helped her to the punch bowl. The heat of the room and recent activity made her cheeks glow, and Darcy leaned forward to whisper how beautiful and tempting she looked. Elizabeth was just turning away in embarrassment, feeling slight trepidation for the morning’s ceremony, when she came face to face with the Earl. He bowed low and kissed her hand.
“Might I have this next dance, my dear?”
Elizabeth handed her cup to Darcy, who grinned shamelessly at his bride. “Yes, you may.”
As the Earl escorted Elizabeth to the dance floor, she noticed the entire ballroom seemed to be whispering at such a courtesy and pointedly looking at her. As the first notes of a Scottish reel began to play, Elizabeth twirled and linked arms with her new uncle in the complicated movements. She spun and worked her way down the line, catching brief glimpses of the angry faces and frowns. The music continued to play, and the dance continued, but Elizabeth’s head continuously turned in opposite directions of her movements as she tried to understand what was going on.
Once she spun down the far line and returned to Lord Matlock, she noticed his face was also grim and strained.
“Has Lady Catherine stormed the ball a second time?” she asked, almost out of breath, still looking around her. The Earl clasped hands with her for the fastest spin yet. Just before it was over, he grunted that he was unaware of the problem at hand.
Despite wishing nothing more than to stop, as her supper was beginning to slosh and bash against the insides of her stomach, Elizabeth soldiered on and completed her second circuit down the line, spinning and twirling with each man in the set. Once the nightmarish dance was over, the Earl escorted Elizabeth with his head held high, and the entire ballroom was nearly silent aside from whispers. They arrived at Lady Matlock looking agitated, standing with Mr. Darcy and Lady Cornish and Lady Carrigan.
“It would appear that a most vicious rumor has been spread about your youngest sister, Lydia, dear, that she is not in attendance tonight due to being heavy with child.”
Elizabeth laughed heartily, truly imaging the plump Lydia trying to accomplish the dance she just finished, so it had a genuine ring to it. “Forgive me, oh, but I need refreshment. Lord Matlock is spritely on his feet.” Elizabeth smiled and played her part as the Earl bowed and offered to retrieve her drink as any gallant dance partner would. Elizabeth happily linked arms with Mr. Darcy and smiled up at him, then she turned her attention to Lady Carrigan. “I’m sorry, we were discussing Lydia? You do know she’s just a girl of fifteen. It would hardly be appropriate for her to dance on an evening such as this.”
“Miss Bingley says she danced with all of the officers at numerous balls in Meryton. That she is engaged to a Mr. Wickham.”
“Well, of course in our home county my parents did indulge her a bit to let her practice. But you will see my sister Catherine does not dance this evening, along with Miss Darcy. And they are both older than Lydia.”
“Yes, but why then is she not present? If you wish for her to have all of this practice as you call it, surely you’d wish her to observe a true London ball.” Lady Cornish looked down her nose at Elizabeth, positively salivating for a mistake. But Elizabeth held her gaze and never once looked to Lady Matlock for assistance, something both titled ladies were counting upon.
“My father passed away only this past autumn. My mother, recently widowed, had a brother gravely injured in a carriage accident not two months ago. My sister Lydia, being the youngest and Mama’s favorite, is a great comfort. My mother suffers from bouts of nerves ,and at times, it’s only Lydia who can calm her.”
Satisfied with their intelligence, the ladies were about to saunter off when Lady Matlock stopped them. “I am certain you will be happy to spread how wonderful Lydia Bennet is as a comfort to her dear mother just as fastidiously as you were to spread the lies of her being with child. After all, we can hardly trust those new to our circle with the stench of new money. They’ll say practically anything to gain status.” Lady Matlock made a pointed look at Miss Bingley, who was at that very moment being roughly assisted off the sofa by two footmen and escorted out of the ballroom.
Elizabeth dropped her jaw in shock, continuing her part in pretending how absurd the entire fiasco had become. Caroline, catching Elizabeth’s eye, and seeing her smirk for just a moment before resuming her facade, lost her composure. “I saw her! She’s round with child, I tell you. My sister just had a babe, I know what it looks like!” Mr. Bingley watched in horror as his sister was escorted out, bowed to the few companions he was speaking to and followed her cries.
Lady Matlock pressed her lips together and looked at her two social enemies. “See what I mean? Cannot even observe proper decorum in a ballroom . . . Elizabeth darling, have you met the Duke and Duchess of Derby? Come, they’ve been asking to see you and Darcy all evening.” And with that, Lady Matlock whisked her nephew and his intended off to the opposite end of the ballroom, exhibiting her Napoleonic skills at social warfare.
Nearly three in the morning, the last couple left the town home and Elizabeth had long since planned to retire. After all, she was to be married in just a few hours. Instead, she had remained awake because the very real problem of Lydia still needed to be decided. All of London would now be looking to see Lydia at the wedding and her size would surely set tongues wagging once more. As Elizabeth sat up with William and his aunt and uncle, they were all stumped at how they were going to hide her in plain sight.
Tears and exhaustion began to overtake Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy insisted his bride retire. “But, my sister! We are ruined. I have ruined you!”
“Ssssh, if we must run away to Gretna Green then so be it, but I am marrying you, Elizabeth Bennet, in . . .” Darcy looked at the clock on the mantle, “eight hours.”
Giving him a weak smile, Elizabeth retired to her room with Lady Matlock accompanying her. As they climbed the stairs together, the older woman tried to calm Elizabeth.
“My son is a brilliant tactician. If anyone can devise a ruse, it is he.”
In spite of herself, Elizabeth laughed. “Well, at least my sister’s tragedy distracts me from any wedding nerves!”
Lady Matlock frowned and paused in the hallway with Elizabeth. “Dear, I assumed your aunt
would discuss these things with you, but do you have any worries or fears about what happens after the wedding ceremony?”
Elizabeth shook her head and answered that her Aunt Gardiner had addressed the topic already. Wishing each other a good night, Lady Matlock squeezed Elizabeth’s hand in affection before excusing herself to the family wing. As Elizabeth collapsed into the fluffy bed, she was too tired to even finish her thought about it being her last night as a Bennet.
At the sound of Becky moving about, Elizabeth’s eyes sprang open. Today she was to be married! She looked down and realized she had not only slept in her ball gown from last night, but also the beautiful jewelry that Mr. Darcy had given her.
“No worries, miss. A hot bath is at the ready.” Becky helped Elizabeth take off the jewels and place them in a new lockable travel jewelry chest, an early wedding gift from the Matlocks. Wide awake in anticipation, Elizabeth spied unfamiliar trunks in the room.
“Becky, whose luggage is in my room?”
The maid looked at Elizabeth suspiciously, knowing her mistress was one of the brightest women in all of England, or so she told the other servants. “Why, they be yours, ma’am.”
“But there’s too many!”
Becky shook her head. “No, Miss Elizabeth, each time you visited the modiste, the Countess and Mr. Darcy used your measurements to have a whole trousseau and winter wardrobe made. Said Scotland can still be a dash cold this time of year.”
Elizabeth groaned and allowed herself to be steered to the bathing room adjacent to her guest suite that she shared with Mary. Additional maids were already present, and Elizabeth experienced a bath like no other. No sooner had one washed her hair that another was working on her nails, while still another scrubbed a foot. She felt pulled and pushed in all different directions. For a moment, she worried that with the maids working silently they might accidentally drown her!
Wrapped in a number of bathing towels, Elizabeth donned a new chemise and sat in the chair in front of her dressing table. Briefly she caught glimpses of her wild curls as two maids rubbed her head to dry her hair. Next, with Becky working the brush through the tangles she sat squinting and yelping at the pain.
“I’m sorry, miss, but we are a little behind schedule.” Becky apologized, knowing Elizabeth was very tender headed. Elizabeth sighed and understood, forcing her thoughts to William as she endured the torture.
Two hours later a knock at the door caused the maids to all disappear, aside from Becky, who merely answered and stayed back. The Earl of Matlock, in full aristocratic regalia, entered, causing Elizabeth to tear up as looking in her mirror, she watched him walk into the room.. As he reached her, she turned, and he handed her a handkerchief.
“Maggie said you would need this!” He laughed, causing Elizabeth to laugh as well.
The ride to church was a short one, and the streets of Mayfair were eerily quiet. It appeared all had crowded into St. Paul’s Cathedral to see the wedding of the Season. For years, the matrons of London had tried and failed to snare the most wealthy and eligible Mr. Darcy, and in the end, it was a slip of a country miss who trapped his heart. All heads turned as Elizabeth walked down the aisle with the Earl of Matlock proudly escorting his future niece.
Mr. Darcy attempted to be the last to see his bride sweep down the aisle, but his best man clapped him on the shoulder. “Turn around, man. Your future happiness is splendid.” As Darcy turned, his breath caught, and the rest of the church appeared to blur around him as he only saw Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, walking towards him in a gown of lavender silk, with small purple buds and pearls in her hair. He watched each breath make her décolletage rise and fall before following the graceful lines of her neck to her perfect rose-colored lips. Unconsciously wetting his own lips as they suddenly felt very dry, his eyes locked with hers, and he felt his heart lighten.
The bishop performed the ceremony admirably, and Elizabeth managed to repeat her vows in a clear, strong voice, never taking her eyes off William. For his part, he also performed perfectly, oblivious to any and all around them. As the bishop’s final command was said, it was Fitzwilliam’s greatest pleasure to tilt Elizabeth’s chin up with his hand and lean in to kiss her most passionately, to the deafening cheers of the church around them.
As Darcy grabbed Elizabeth’s hand to walk with her down the aisle, she struggled to keep up with him. She tried to smile and nod at their guests, but they were in the narthex before she could catch her breath.
“William! The rush?”
“We must hurry or the plan will fail. Here, sign the registry.” A few guests began to exit the church and crowd them. Elizabeth signed her new name, wishing she had prepared more for this step, and hastily followed her husband outside.
A carriage with all of her new trunks strapped to it awaited at the end of the steps. Darcy wasted no time rushing Elizabeth down the steps, opened the carriage door so that a female occupant inside could be seen slightly by the guests billowing outside. He grabbed Elizabeth by the waist to pull her in for one last passionate kiss, to the catcalls of many, before assisting her inside the carriage. Leaning out, he waved and shut the door, banging for the carriage to begin its journey.
Inside, Elizabeth was surprised to see Lydia, bawling her eyes out, sitting in the carriage with them. She looked to Mr. Darcy for an explanation, but he merely smiled and nodded. “I suppose we are skipping the wedding breakfast?” she asked lifting her eyebrows for the first time as Mrs. Darcy.
Without an answer, Mr. Darcy just continued to smile like the cat that swallowed the canary.
The chaos and confusion reigned supreme in the milling guests. Those who witnessed the passionate abduction of Mrs. Darcy by Mr. Darcy didn’t fail to recount the story again and again for those who had missed the escape. the colonel merely had to mention there was someone else in the carriage for the explanation that Lydia Bennet was not at the ceremony because she was working with William on his little scheme to escape with his bride for the honeymoon in Scotland, which she was invited to join long ago, to take hold. The Matlocks hosted the finest wedding breakfast without the bride and groom present ever seen, and the ton of London were quite satisfied with the spectacle.