From Pemberley to Paradise, page 5
“What about Mr Watford?”
“Who?” Elizabeth wondered.
“Mr Watford, the young gentleman we talked about yesterday, the son of Papa’s friend.”
She blushed again, the first dream coming vividly to her mind, the man from her dream…Mr Watford. She did not remember talking to him, but then again, the doctor told her she might have migraines, headache or other symptoms because of the smoke she inhaled. She did not ask what other symptoms might mean, busy as she was tending Mr Darcy’s wound. Maybe it was because of the smoke, she did not remember.
“Elizabeth, what happened to you? How could you forget him?”
“I didn’t!” Elizabeth responded in haste. she did not want her sister to worry more than she already was, but in truth, she had only vague memories of the dinner and the night that followed.
To Elizabeth’s relief Kitty burst into the chamber, her usual smile on her face, followed by Mary. “We were forbidden to come to your room till you woke up, but we heard your voices, you must tell us everything,” she said and jumped into the bed near her sisters while Mary sat down on a bench looking for a book to read.
Chapter 6
It was decided the Bennets would stay in Bingley’s house in London. As the tradition dictated the bride and groom not to sleep under the same roof before the wedding, Charles moved to Darcy’s townhouse, providing a new motive of irritation for Bingley’s sisters who, once in London, went back to their duties and gossip. They could not understand how their own brother did not come to stay with them preferring his friend’s place.
The pretext was that as Darcy and Bingley resided in the same parish, it was more convenient to stay near the church. But in truth, Charles was tired of their gossip and wicked thoughts. For the first time in his life, he decided to do what was best for him and for Jane and not to care about his sisters.
It was the best arrangement as the St Stephen Walbrook Church was midway between their houses.
“My dear friend,” Darcy said the morning after the fire, seeing his friend’s despair, “do not forget your banns were also proclaimed in St Stephen Walbrook Church!”
It was so true! If the couple lived in different parishes, the banns had to be proclaimed in each congregation, and proof in the form of a certificate had to be supplied to the curate performing the marriage service.
“All you have to do is supply the certificate from Meryton to St Stephen Walbrook Church.”
In the horrible turmoil of the disaster, Charles had utterly forgotten that he had his banns also proclaimed in London. He was so grateful that his friend kept his head clear and remembered such details that surely would save the marriage!
∞∞∞
St Stephen Walbrook Church was a splendid place that more than compensated the effort to move the wedding to London.
“It looks like St Paul’s Cathedral!” Jane was so happy that she could dance in the generous space the church offered. “We could fit three of our chapels from home in this one!”
Mr Bennet smiled and only approved. He had a moment of despair and shock when he heard about the fire; his first thought had been that the wedding must be postponed. Secretly, he was more concerned about Mrs Bennet than Jane, as he was not sure his wife could take such a blow after all the plans she had made. He was so grateful to Mr Darcy—again to him—who proposed this marvellous idea and saved his domestic peace.
They all met just two days before the wedding at Bingley’s place, a new occasion for Mrs Bennet to be the mistress of the house. And indeed the dinner was excellent, the servants had a new attitude and they responded at a mere clap of hands of their temporary mistress.
“You have a dining room that could easily accommodate thirty people, but the table is for fewer than twenty. We should do something!” Mrs Bennet said and Bingley, who was passing almost all day in his house, approved.
“Please do whatever it takes to provide an amazing dinner. If you need more servants or anything else, just ask. I want Jane to shine and be proud of her future home.”
It was the situation Mrs Bennet liked most. She was now the mistress over a larger family and had at her disposal all those means she could only imagine.
One thing was unchanged—her headaches and nerves were the same. “Have a little compassion on my nerves!” was the leitmotiv heard at least once an hour.
But everybody agreed the dinner was a success. Caroline and Louisa were mumbling their disagreement about the ruthless conqueror who transformed their brother’s house into her domain, but they were the only ones to complain. Around the table were the friends and family who had been present on the terrible night but also the Gardiners and other friends from London, eager to see the young couple’s happiness.
Never had Jane imagined such a huge gathering, but in the end, she was glad that her wedding became a time for celebration for so many people.
Elizabeth was seated near Mr Watford, although she would have preferred to have the colonel at her side; nevertheless, her mother and Jane decided how to place people. She suspected a little plot; Jane looked too happy to be scolded, and her mother was so sure about her good intentions that it would be useless to complain.
Mr Darcy was across the table. With the people around talking and laughing, it was impossible to have a conversation. In any case Elizabeth was no longer sure she wanted to speak to him. She had sent an answer to his letter, letting him know how grateful she was for the help he provided in Lydia’s misadventure and for saving her. Unfortunately, her sentiments were unchanged; she enormously valued his friendship and wanted to continue their relationship in the same way.
It was a friendly yet formal answer, obviously asking him to forget the troubling kiss episode she could not explain or want to remember. She was behaving as if it—the kiss—had not existed. Darcy kept scrutinising her face trying to catch a glance that would tell him otherwise when apparently her only preoccupation was to speak and smile to the people around her, mostly to that Mr Watford! An excellent man in another situation but an inconvenience when he was trying to conquer Elizabeth. He still hoped they would find a moment to talk. His constant gaze upon her was an invitation. But it looked like the dinner was to last forever; a friendly atmosphere was shared among the guests, and the stories about the fire kept the attention of those who were not at Netherfield at the time of the inferno. It was not the night for Darcy to converse with Elizabeth; he was frustrated, almost angry while she was tired but serene.
The night ended with music, one of their guests, Mrs Blade, was an accomplished singer and Georgiana offered to accompany her on the piano. Darcy tried to enjoy the music but seeing Elizabeth smile at Mr Watford he decided that the private discussion was not for that evening. As soon as the music stopped, he departed, leaving behind a gathering that was ready to continue the party.
He did not care about Georgiana’s protests, he just wanted to be alone in his library with a glass of brandy in his hand. He needed time to reflect on what his next actions might be. It seemed impossible after the passion of that night that Elizabeth just walked away…again.
Just before leaving Netherfield he had a discussion with Mr Bennet. He wanted to marry her and take her to Pemberley and that night he considered to be a clear answer. She was as eager to be with him as he was. He even dared to think they could marry in London…until the letter arrived. He could not believe his eyes; he looked a hundred times to be sure that cold and indifferent letter was from her. But then her whole attitude when they met was the same. He was dumbfounded, stupefied…he was completely desperate as Elizabeth seemed to be another person. All his plans were shattered and for long moments he hated her, thinking she was playing a rather horrible game. She could not joke and laugh with that young gentleman when…Yet it seemed that for her their closeness did not matter.
∞∞∞
At first surprised by their early departure Elizabeth was finally relieved. The whole plan to thank him on behalf of her family and herself looked rather unnecessary. Her letter had expressed their feelings and she was not sure she could find more words. She only hoped the future would bring a special occasion to make him understand how grateful they were.
It was such a fantastic party, to her mother’s credit, recognition of her skills as a mistress of the house…and mother of the splendid bride to be.
For Elizabeth, the evening was also so enjoyable. Deep inside, she felt something new. Mr Watford conquered her with his kindness and courtesy; the small talk at the dinner table proved him to be highly cultivated but not conceited and his sincere admiration for her made her want to pursue the relationship.
She smiled when he asked if he could meet her one day, by chance, in Meryton.
“It is very possible, Mr Watford,” she whispered, not wanting to be heard by the people around, but anyone who observed her would have seen the smile she could not hide. At least two persons in the room understood what was happening: the colonel and Caroline.
The colonel was sad;, he knew how passionately his cousin loved Elizabeth Bennet. There were few confessions between them, but a man could tell when his fellow was in love. He felt so sorry for Darcy. Not only for the unrequited love—a distressing feeling by itself—but also because he had the feeling that Elizabeth and Darcy were meant to be together. So alike and yet so different, they could keep the flame of love forever. For them, love would be a continuous search and not a formality rising from a social custom as marriage was in most cases. Yet Elizabeth was not in love with him and there was nothing to be done. He admired her immensely, and in another situation maybe he would have tried to conquer her, but that evening, he was disappointed by her. It was not a feeling to be easily suppressed. He was not entirely fair with Elizabeth, yet he sensed she took the easy way. Long before the feast reached its end, he left. Likewise for his cousin; the party was over for him too. He only hoped to find Darcy awake and accompany him in silence to sip a drink or two.
In the carriage that took them to Hursts’ home Caroline and Louisa could finally express their fury and frustration. The dinner had no class, the food was more appropriate for a Meryton party and not for a London feast, but strangely Caroline felt relieved. She had seen how close “that woman”—as she called Elizabeth—was to Mr Watford and for her, it was the best outcome.
“She is no longer after Mr Darcy,” she said to her sister while Louisa tried to stop Mr Hurst from snoring.
“I am so sorry,” her sister said, “our dear brother brings such people into our family! We have to accept Jane but the others…well, I hope not to see them too often.”
“Elizabeth was disgusting with her interest in that poor Archibald Watford.”
“I hope his father will have a word to say if things go further,” Louisa mumbled before falling asleep near her husband.
The only one awake was Caroline; she did not dare to say she hoped nobody would intervene between young Archibald Watford and Elizabeth. She did not care much about the Watford family and a possible misalliance. But, in the end, old Mr Watford was a landowner with little appetite for society or London. He lived exclusively on his estate and was proud to work each day.
Let them marry and get out of my way! Caroline thought, as they arrived home.
∞∞∞
There was at least one person as happy as Caroline about young Watford’s preference for Elizabeth, but unlike Caroline, Mrs Bennet was genuinely happy. Mr Watford had the qualities she might expect for a husband and Elizabeth seemed to appreciate him. Although it was difficult to decide who was the man Elizabeth liked most, that evening she appeared heading to St Albans.
“Archibald Watford completed his studies at Oxford—I was told. A distinguished young gentleman with little attraction for the work in the countryside, he became a vicar. From this fall a vacant vicarage near St Albans is designated by the St Albans Bishop to be his. It is one of the wealthiest parishes with a beautiful house and land around, and all that he lacks is a wife,” Mrs Bennet told her husband the next day. “Splendid parish,” she continued. They were alone in the house as the young people paid a visit to Mr Darcy.
Mrs Bennet felt at home in her future son-in-law’s London house. It had always been her secret wish to have a house in London. Seemingly she was not so far from such an accomplishment as Jane was happy to have her around and relieve her of the household duties.
“Mrs Bennet,” her husband said with a small ironic smile, “let us allow Elizabeth to make her own decisions!”
“And what would be the parents’ role in that case?” Mrs Bennet asked, rather cuttingly.
From long experience, Mr Bennet knew any answer he might proffer would be wrong. So he let her answer, trying to decide meanwhile what books to read from the library.
“Is it not our role to advise and try to keep them sane and sage?”
He had for an instant the dangerous intention of bringing Lydia into the discussion, but then he valued his peace more than an irony…that would, eventually, cost him too much.
In Jane’s case, the marriage settlement was signed, and Mr Bingley with his usual benevolence had decided on terms more than satisfactory for Mr Bennet…and his family. He was a brave gentleman who would make Jane happy. Once in a while, Mr Bennet wondered how the same family could raise a decent son like Charles and two shrews like his sisters. He never intervened in discussions of the specific type, but during the dinner more than once he was tempted to answer the malevolent words of one sister or another.
Chapter 7
As it was the custom to publicise a marriage in a national or a local newspaper, the announcement of Jane and Charles’s marriage appeared in The Times two days before the ceremony. Some announcements did not give the name of the bride, only that of her father, but this one specifically named Miss Jane Bennet and Mr Charles Bingley, making Jane dance around the parlour with the newspaper in her hands.
Mr Bennet looked at her with his heart full of joy, wondering how it was possible for her to completely forget that only a few days ago her marriage had been in peril. In many ways—he continued his meditation—that very capacity would help her be happy all her life. There was nothing to be worried regarding her, so his attention turned to Elizabeth. He meditated for a while upon the discussion he had with Mr Darcy but it seemed that his daughter did not share his sentiments. The fire had deeply affected her; however, that young gentleman, Mr Watford, might have a secret to cheer her up. Mr Bennet just wanted to see his beloved Lizzy married to a decent and intelligent gentleman. And if he was to listen to Mrs Bennet—who rarely was wrong, indeed—the Watford “boy” was also to receive a substantial income at his marriage. He chose to forget everything about Mr Darcy as obviously Elizabeth had already done. It was, after all, her decision.
∞∞∞
There were some clouds on the wedding day, but not a drop of rain so the party—rather than riding in a carriage—walked from Bingley’s house. Flowers, herbs and rushes were strewn on the church’s porch, making it look like a joyful coloured carpet to welcome the bride. The ceremony was due to begin at eight o’clock, a little early in the morning, but Jane was so eager to get married that she did not protest.
She entered the impressive church with her eyes full of tears. The wedding party—which seemed so numerous in Bingley’s dining room—looked lost in the vastness of the space. It was precisely that attribute that gave to the entire ceremony a spirit of solemnness that most weddings did not have—all the participants agreed. The flowers which filled the church, the bride’s and groom’s emotion or the hymn played at the end on the splendid organ contributed to a perfect ceremony; compensation for all the excitement and danger that hovered over Jane and Charles’ union even from the beginning of their relationship.
The bride’s dress was yellow, her favourite colour. Intricate embroidery and lace decorated the bottom of the dress, making Jane appear like a princess on the arm of Mr Bennet. The bride’s hair was secured by a golden ribbon in a slightly loose bun, that accentuated the beauty of her perfect face. She smiled…the most beautiful smile Charles had ever seen.
He wondered—just before Mr Bennet gave him his bride—if he was good enough for her. He also looked so elegant; however, it was not to his credit. It took his butler, Darcy and the colonel near two hours to make him dress. He was so impatient, like a child he rushed to see if the rings were prepared every ten minutes making the dressing an impossible adventure. The groom had a white shirt of muslin, with a white silk cravat. The dark cutaway, tailed jacket had the buttons left open to show a waistcoat, brightly coloured and richly embroidered remembering the embroidery on his bride’s gown.
A unique pair—Elizabeth thought—both beautiful and elegant but looking like two children in front of a miracle.
She could hardly contain her tears, happy for her sister’s happiness but so sad that she would go back to Longbourn without Jane. Not for a day or a month but forever. Their childhood and adolescence ended in that beautiful church and a new life was about to begin for both of them. Jane—as a bride—and Elizabeth alone in the room she had shared with her sister since they were toddlers. Her heart ached to imagine she would have no one to run to with news and thoughts. Kitty was a nonchalant girl impressed only by wealth and ribbons, and Mary was too deep into her world to be a joyful companion.
