From Pemberley to Paradise, page 6
The strangest and most challenging part for Elizabeth was to sign the parish Register Book since she and Darcy were the witnesses. She had imagined the scene many times before. It was the first time she was a witness and she kept asking her father and her uncle how the signing took place.
“You go in the vestry and sigh the Proof of Marriage, nothing more or less,” Mr Bennet said with a smile, but it was not enough for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth knew that the Proof was much more important to a woman than to a man. So many times in the past she had discussed with Mr Bennet a situation that made the woman utterly dependent on her husband’s will and wealth.
“You see, my dear,” Mr Bennet told her once, “your mother is not wrong when she pushes you to marry. However, not even she knows that it is even more important to have a proof of that marriage!
“As strange as it looks, a woman could not depend on her husband for support if she could not prove she was his legal wife. She might even be liable to arrest and incarceration as a lost woman. If she is a widow, she could be denied her lawful dower rights, even custody of her own children. Her marriage lines were the proof of one of the most significant achievements of her life and might be her best protection against life’s vicissitudes.” It gave Mr Bennet great pleasure to clarify any matter to Elizabeth as it was so obvious she was interested in so many aspects of life.
Elizabeth knew almost everything about the legal parts of marriage, yet she knew so little about being married. That “little”, Jane told her about, only deepened the mystery instead of clarifying it.
When, after the ceremony, the clergyman, the parish clerk and grooms proceeded to the vestry, Elizabeth’s heart beating made her blush and feel cold as ice the next moment.
It was Mr Darcy who invited her to follow the group to the vestry where the persons present entered the marriage lines into the parish Register Book.
Signing under his name she admired his signature, which she had seen only once before in his letter she received some days ago.
Her father had been right. The signing was completed in a few minutes and a copy of the records, made and signed by the participants in the ceremony, was given to the new bride—notably her property— and not to the groom. It was a delicious detail that enchanted Jane, but no doubt she imagined the wrong motive, the true one she would never know. Elizabeth smiled seeing her happiness, as she kept on looking at the paper in her hands and at her husband, who proudly walked near her.
The party followed the happy couple which was in a state of pure bliss. The wedding had been elegant and emotional, successfully erasing the events at Netherfield, a considerable accomplishment. They admired their love and the determination to be together, forgetting all other deeds from the past.
It was Mr Darcy who hosted the wedding breakfast as his dining room could accommodate many more guests than Bingley’s house. A well-known cook—who it was said, had worked for the king himself—prepared the feast. On the table were a variety of meats, hot rolls, buttered toast, tongue, ham and eggs, and a wedding cake in the middle, marking that special day. The wedding cake was the traditional fruitcake, soaked with liberal amounts of alcohol: wine, brandy and rum and covered in refined sugar icing, immaculate white to symbolise the purity of the bride.
It was a huge cake as pieces would be sent home with family and friends, delivered to neighbours and even send over distances to those who could not be part of the celebrations; like Charlotte and Mr Collins as they just had a baby boy, only a little while ago.
∞∞∞
At the end of the party, the groom wanted to say a few words. Impatient to take his bride home, he failed to be logical or coherent, but his family and friends understood; they all smiled enjoying his happiness.
“I…” he said and then looked at Jane forgetting to speak for a long time, “I want to thank you, my friends, all of you…Darcy and the colonel, then Mr and Mrs Bennet…” he blushed but continued, “…my, my parents-in-law for their contribution to such a splendid event, I thank you all for being here with us!”
Jane smiled and again he lost his words but then, he continued, “I invite all you people around the table in one year to inaugurate the new Netherfield Park!”
Everybody applauded, but Charles made a gesture to stop them—in a hurry to be alone with his bride. “In one year we shall celebrate one year of marriage but also our new residence. During the last days I made an offer to the estate’s owner to acquire the domain and it seems my offer was accepted.”
“Are we the owners of Netherfield?” Jane cried in surprise.
“Yes, we are! It is my gift to you!” he said and then it was impossible to continue as she stood up and breaking all the rules kissed him on his cheek.
And then they were gone!
He did not say it was Darcy’s idea as his friend found it absolutely inefficient to invest money in a place that was not his, and the fire did some damage that needed rather large reparations.
The couple departed for Bath the next day. Mr and Mrs Bennet decided they would be accompanied by Kitty. At first, Jane wanted to protest, as she would have preferred Elizabeth to come, but for once her parents were united and firm, it was Kitty to come or…Mary! In front of such a decided position, Jane agreed for Kitty to accompany them, but not without regrets and tears.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth did not regret this arrangement, yet she felt tired and sad. She was not the best companion for the newlyweds. Her parents had seen it right! She was too troubled by her dilemmas regarding her future and…a possible marriage.
It seemed impossible to go on living the life she had: staying in her parents’ house, attending the same events, hearing on and on the same stories, the gossip between friends and neighbours—a perspective that troubled and angered her!
At least, in the past, she had Jane to discuss her problems with, but after the wedding she found herself alone and somewhat uncomfortable. She tried to take Mary for a walk in the morning, but the girl had nothing in her head but books, novel’s characters and literary questions. Her dear sister, Jane, lived in a better reality while Mary just did not know reality existed. Elizabeth tried to explain to Mary how life worked, what was expected from her having arrived at the marriage age, but the girl seemed not to understand or accept Elizabeth’s perception of life.
Elizabeth had so many things to discuss but no one to share with. She started to write a journal; however, it was too complicated to write the ideas that kept coming in a rhythm that her hand could not follow. She decided to stay in the garden and just think…But then again, that was not satisfactory. She needed her Jane and she still had weeks ahead until they would be together.
The sisters decided to meet in London as soon as the newlyweds returned. Elizabeth even obtained Mr Bennet’s complicity, who swore he would accompany her to London. He was the only one to understand Elizabeth’s state of mind as he was not very far from it. Jane’s departure left a hole he could not yet forget. He missed her pure face in the morning at breakfast or seeing her from his study as she was strolling in the garden with her sisters. He could only imagine Elizabeth’s melancholy as the two of them were inseparable from their childhood, but he was not even near his daughter’s real torment.
She also blamed herself for failing to speak to Mr Darcy! Her letter seemed now so cold and inappropriate, yet she was not sure she could have withstood a discussion with him. His eyes, continuously fixed on her, made her blush—sometimes it was weird but not totally unpleasant. He wanted to steal a moment with her, but it proved to be impossible. At the wedding breakfast he was seated far away at the other end of the table while she stayed with her family, near the bride. And then they were gone; her father wanted to head to Longbourn at once as he had some business to attend. She only had the time to say a formal “thank you” but for some moments their eyes met and she blushed so intensely that she had to hide her red cheeks in an ample curtsy.
Lately, Mr Darcy had a strange influence on her. He only looked at her and she could faint, a girl who had never fainted in her life. She was afraid and yet drawn by the intensity of his eyes fixed on her. It was utterly unseen, it was even forbidden but each time he looked at her, he broke all the rules society had set for men and women meeting in public. It was not observable from outside, but the two of them knew the truth. At least he seemed to know something she did not understand.
At the end of their visit he invited her family to visit Pemberley and Georgiana supported his invitation with much enthusiasm.
“Yes, please, Miss Elizabeth, as soon as Mrs Jane and Charles return from their trip, please plan to travel to Pemberley, then you will see how wonderful it is during this season.”
However, a trip to Pemberley was not in Elizabeth’s plans. She intended to stay as far as possible from that place even if in the past she had enjoyed spending time there.
Not long after returning home another nuisance erupted in her life. One night out of two she had a nightmare. It was not the first time in her life that happened; however, in the past, Jane had always been near her to help her disperse the monsters. But this time it was not a monster and she was not even sure it was a nightmare, but she woke up in the morning so tired and with a constant shame that she tried to hide although nobody was aware of her turmoil.
Only Mrs Bennet looked with a specific worry to the black circles beneath Elizabeth’s eyes, but she thought they would disappear as soon as she had another preoccupation. And she decided that the best distraction for her girl was to meet Mr Watford.
She was eager to convince Mr Bennet to overcome his usual reluctance and write a letter to the old Mr Watford to re-establish a relationship that indeed existed between them in their youth. The distance between their two estates was rather short and one could pay a visit and be back the next day.
As always Mr Bennet tended to withstand her attempts to change his daily life with visits and other entertainments, but secretly, as he had done in the past, he wrote to his old friend and invited him to pay them a visit with his children—his son, Archibald, and two young daughters. Unfortunately, Mrs Watford was dead some years now and he had to take care of his three children alone.
An answer came sooner than Mr Bennet expected. George Watford kindly declined the invitation—due to urgent duties on his estate—but he requested the pleasure of Mr Bennet's company for a whole week…naturally accompanied by his family.
He entered the drawing-room with that letter knowing there he would find his wife and two of his daughters as he had already seen Mary hidden in the corner of the park, reading.
“Well, Mrs Bennet,” he said with much benevolence, “your wish has come true, George Watford invited all of us to spend a few days at his estate near St Albans.”
It was indeed good news, as Mrs Bennet hoped it would make Elizabeth smile again, be the happy and enjoyable girl she used to be.
The night before—awakened by some noise in Elizabeth’s room— Mrs Bennet found her crying in the bed. Her inquietude became official. Elizabeth never cried, she slept like a baby and ate what was on the table, never complaining about the food or menu. The new Elizabeth was so changed that Mrs Bennet hardly recognised her only daughter she believed would never give her any difficulty. Now she often cried, mostly during the night, refused to eat and she could stay all day long in her room with a book in her hand but obviously dreaming. In her inner self, Mrs Bennet suspected what was happening; it was indeed Jane’s marriage, which triggered this change. She was not longing for her sister as much as she was longing for a husband. It was natural for a young woman of that age to have certain urges she could not explain. Mrs Bennet called the doctor but at the same time she started preparing for the visit to St Albans.
Doctor Moriarty came one morning brought by Mrs Bennet’s anxious note. Elizabeth, his favourite Bennet sister, was melancholic as her mother described her state, a description much too vague for the good doctor to imagine a severe illness. But going to Bennets’ house was also a pleasure as his medical visits ended with a long discussion with Mr Bennet and a glass of brandy he much enjoyed.
Unfortunately this time Mrs Bennet—who was inclined to be for no reason concerned by imaginary illnesses—was right. The girl he knew was not in sight. He was received by a pale and indifferent Elizabeth who hardly opened her mouth to answer his questions. She did not have a fever, a cold or a usual stomach-ache.
“Yes, dizziness and nausea…nightmares and headache from time to time,” Elizabeth responded in half of sentences, but for the doctor it was enough.
“I think that fire is the culprit,” he addressed to Mrs Bennet, speaking as they used to when her daughters were just little girls, not paying attention to the patient—so no one could see how Elizabeth blushed.
“She inhaled much more smoke than I initially believed! These symptoms are from that kind of event.”
“At nearly a month after the fire?”
“Yes, I am sorry we did not pay more attention, but now you must take some measures.”
Mrs Bennet had invited him to sit at Elizabeth’s desk.
“First she has to drink at least two cups of milk each day and then you have to take her somewhere near the sea or forest, she needs fresh air and to walk for three or four hours each day, even to walk in the rain. Her lungs need to be cleaned and only fresh air can do that.”
Mrs Bennet was nodding with a very determined face. Her daughter would have precisely the walks she needed in the woods…with the young Watford.
But in the end, Elizabeth needed to get married and indeed the walks in the woods might contribute to her health, in the direction the doctored prescribed, but also in what Mrs Bennet thought to be Elizabeth’s problem.
Determined to find a means to overcome all the rules fixed between a man and a woman before marriage, Mrs Bennet knew Mr Watford was the solution. She would not do the same for any other girl of hers, but Elizabeth was mature and intelligent enough to understand how to deal with such a situation and not put her reputation in danger. She needed time alone with Archibald—enough for him to propose. And Mrs Bennet was sure that the illnesses would instantly disappear after the wedding day.
With those thoughts, she stepped out of the room letting the doctor organise his bag while Elizabeth stood up and looked at the bottles, arranged in a row at the bottom of the bag.
She took one asking the doctor, “Doctor Morriaty, what kind of concoction did you indicate for me to take the night of the blaze?”
The doctor smiled and showed her a bottle, “It is Laudanum.”
“And what is Laudanum?” Elizabeth asked with much interest.
The doctor took the little bottle from her hand and placed it in its place.
“Well, it is a tincture of opium. I only gave it to you and that gentleman who was wounded because you suffered, both of you, so much angst. But it is not for daily use if you are trying to have more.”
“No, absolutely not!” Elizabeth said with a vehement voice. “But I need to know what happens when you drink this tincture?”
“It depends a lot on the person who takes it. For you it was meant to give you a good sleep, as I knew that the smoke you inhaled might cause you some discomfort.”
“One could have strange dreams?” she asked, trying not to look as interested as she really was.
As the doctor was already thinking of Mr Bennet’s brandy and the serene atmosphere in his study he answered with a total lack of interest and in a hurry, “Yes, it is made of opium and it can have some dramatic effects, but only if you take it daily and you become dependent on its use. The dose you took must have given you a good sleep with intense dreams. One can be rather happy and lose control, but there is nothing to be worried about, the effect dissipated as soon as you woke up!”
For Elizabeth this was enough to understand what had happened that night, that kiss she wanted, the step she made to be closer to him, the dream she had that naturally continued the passionate embrace.
With her cheeks still on fire, for the first time since that night, she dared to remember the dream. Its murkiness yet its intensity made her shiver as she probably did in the Netherfield bedroom. But then she stopped recalling—as she did so many times in the last weeks—incapable of going further in the depth of that maze.
In the end, it was a good idea to change the decor. Perhaps the doctor was right; she had to breath fresh air…and meet Archibald Watford, the future vicar who was obviously in search of a wife.
I like so much about him,—Elizabeth wrote in a letter to Jane—his slender posture, a man who spent the last years inside Oxford’s libraries and classrooms. He is intelligent and probably the most educated person I have ever met; he is courteous and attentive. Of course he lacks the refinements of a gentleman used to living in society. In the end, it is an unimportant miss. I think I shall enjoy our stay at their estate.
She did not tell all her thoughts to Jane as she feared her sister would read, by now, her letters to her husband. But she imagined Archibald dedicated to his own family, affectionate with his wife and interested in his children’s education—boy or girls. He had those qualities that made a man a suitable husband and she was inclined to let him court her.
Determined not to make plans, to let the relationship grow between them, Elizabeth cherished the chance to have a whole week to speak with and discover one another. For the first time since the fire she felt better thinking maybe the future would make her dreams disappear and her aches and nausea and dizziness to diminish in the pure air of the Watford’s woods.
By now, Jane’s honeymoon was over and they returned to London but the sisters’ plan to meet had to be postponed, for going to St Albans was more important—everybody agreed.
The good news—Jane wrote to Elizabeth from London—is that Charles decided for us to pay a visit to Netherfield to accompany Kitty home but also to discuss with the architect the changes we want to make. We shall have plenty of time to discuss, prepare yourself to stay with me as long as we shall stay at Netherfield and then come back to London with us!”
