Most Advantageously Married
A ball was not Darcy’s favorite way to pass an evening. Everyone who knew anything about him knew this, for he had given them ample evidence. There were, however, several benefits now to a ball, all of which centered on the person of his wife.
Wife! Even now, after more than nine months of acquaintance, Darcy had difficulty believing in his good fortune, the chance that had led to his making the acquaintance of Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. Had he returned to Pemberley, had he done nothing more than stayed at home that day instead of attending the art gallery, drowning his sorrows in brandy, he would never have made her acquaintance. He would never have known what he was missing.
Then again, Darcy supposed that Bingley would still have leased Netherfield, so he might have made her acquaintance that way. But it would not have been the same. Had Darcy gone to Hertfordshire in the state of mind that dominated his thinking in August, would he have paid any attention whatsoever to the young miss who had so boldly spoken to him? It was more likely his habitual reserve would have prevented him from seeing what a wonderful creature she was, his distaste for the ballroom prevented him from doing anything more than stalking along the side of the floor, wishing he were anywhere else at all.
Which brought Darcy’s thoughts full circle. Since long before Darcy could remember, his aunt had hosted a ball at his uncle’s house, inviting the cream of society, the rooms a press such that Darcy could not feel comfortable in them. Yet, here with Elizabeth, watching her as she danced and laughed, Darcy thought he had never been so contented in all his life. Though she was with other men, smiled and laughed at their jests, spoke with her typical animation and verve, her tenderest smiles were reserved for him alone. When the evening ended, she would return to his home, bringing the light and joy to their abode that she had to his life. Darcy could cede her company to others for the moment, knowing he would have it for the rest of his life.
It was while he was thus engaged that his uncle joined him, stepping to Darcy’s side, though he did not speak at once. Though his uncle had sported a foul expression more than once since Darcy had returned to London with Elizabeth in tow, tonight he was more pensive, though his gaze—like Darcy’s own—rarely left Elizabeth. It was difficult, Darcy knew, for his uncle to confess he had been wrong. Thus, Darcy stood watching his wife, waiting for his uncle to speak.
“I hope you are enjoying yourself, Nephew.”
Of all the things his uncle might have said, Darcy had never expected to hear such a banal opening. “Well enough, Uncle,” replied he. “More so because on the morrow we may dispense with society. We are for Hertfordshire to attend the wedding of my wife’s dearest friend and then proceed to the lakes.”
“Yes, I assume you must wish to be alone with your new wife.”
“Does not every man wish for the same?” asked Darcy, diverted by how his uncle was dancing about the subject. “And you may recall that we shall not be entirely alone; Miss Mary Bennet will accompany us.”
The earl paused and glanced at Miss Mary, a slight frown marring his expression. Darcy followed his gaze, noting Miss Marry Bennet dancing not far from her sister, suspecting he knew of what his uncle was thinking.
“Mrs. Darcy’s sisters are well mannered this evening,” observed the earl. “Then again, the most objectionable among them are not present.”
“No, they are at school where they should be.”
The indications from the two girls—the Darcy knew it was still early in their residence there—were encouraging. Miss Kitty, it appeared, was enjoying her experience, and while Bennet informed him Miss Lydia’s letters consisted of complaints, the girl had made several acquaintances. Bennet suspected her complaints were rote by now, expressed due to the force of habit rather than any real objection to her situation. The girl would almost certainly retain her high spirits regardless of what they did to reform her. Darcy hoped she would develop a modicum of caution.
“Yes, I suppose you must be correct,” said his uncle. “Of Miss Bennet, there has never been an occasion to concern myself. She will gain acceptance for nothing more than her pretty countenance.”
While Darcy knew his uncle’s words were true, there were unplumbed depths to Miss Jane Bennet. A woman as calm and rational as she would be the perfect partner for his more impetuous friend. Bingley would depart for the north about the time Darcy journeyed with his new bride to Hertfordshire. Miss Bennet would accompany the Bennets, Lady Catherine, Anne, and Georgiana, where they would begin planning Bingley’s wedding in earnest.
“Your wife is a popular partner tonight.”
Darcy grinned, knowing his uncle had finally arrived at the point. “As I suspected. Not only is she a curiosity as my new wife, but I knew she would win others over with her sheer magnetism.”
The earl grunted; Darcy was not about to allow him to push this subject aside.
“If you will recall,” said he, turning to face his uncle, “I informed you when I announced the engagement of my certainty of her success. Seeing her in this company, you must confess I was entirely correct.”
“Yes, I suppose you did,” grumble the earl. “Her mother is behaving herself too.”
He spoke the last with a hint of relief; Darcy himself had not been certain of the extent of the changes in Mrs. Bennet. As her husband was speaking with Banbury and Fitzwilliam, Mrs. Bennet had been left to the company of Lady Susan and Lady Catherine, both of whom appeared determined to keep her close. Darcy’s observation was that it was unnecessary, for Mrs. Bennet appeared so awed that he doubted she would have said more than three words together, anyway.
Bennet, Darcy knew, had no love of town, and as the Bennets had no position to protect, he would content himself with his estate and his books, only appearing in London on rare occasions. Though Mrs. Bennet might wish for more society, he suspected she would not oppose her husband in this. Mrs. Bennet, though she had been well mannered that evening, was swimming in a different ocean from that to which she was accustomed; she would not wish to return often.
“I would have preferred you had made a political marriage.”
“As you have informed me repeatedly,” said Darcy, refraining from rolling his eyes. “I hope you will forgive me for being far happier with Elizabeth than I would have been with an insipid society wife.”
“Not all ladies of society are insipid,” argued his lordship.
Darcy shook his head. “No, but none are so particularly well suited to me as Elizabeth. What I have lost in dowry and connections I have more than made up in felicity, happiness, and hope for the future.”
“Then I suppose it must be so,” said his uncle. It sounded as if the words were pulled from his lips under the greatest duress. “It is done, I suppose, and nothing will change it.”
Lord Matlock turned to Darcy and said: “I hope you will forgive me if I do not fawn over her as my sons do.”
“Your civility is all I require.”
“Very well,” said the earl, taking his leave to another part of the ballroom.
“Is he still intent upon complaining?”
“Did you expect anything less?” asked Darcy.
Lady Catherine, who had spoken, stepped beside him and eyed her brother as he retreated. “No, I suppose not. My brother is stubborn to a fault.”
Darcy grinned. “Not many months ago, I might have said the same of you. That you have proven less stubborn on this matter is of continuing astonishment to me.”
“But not unwelcome.”
“Certainly not. You have been of great support to Elizabeth, and for that, I cannot thank you enough.”
Knowing Lady Catherine loved to be of use, Darcy was not surprised to see her preen if only a little. Then the lady returned to the previous subject.
“Susan informs me that underneath his bluster, Hugh likes Elizabeth very well, indeed.”
“As I suspected he would,” replied Darcy, not bothering to hide the smugness in his tone. “If I had married the daughter of the earl of Chester, he would have lauded her breeding, comportment, and beauty to all, yet bemoaned her utter lack of anything resembling intelligence in private.”
The snort with which Lady Catherine responded spoke to her amusement. “Yes, in that I cannot think you are anything but correct.”
The music ended and Elizabeth’s partner escorted her to Darcy’s side, bowing and indicating his pleasure before he departed. Though Darcy did not know the man well, he suspected his thoughts consisted of his amazement that such a gem as Elizabeth could be found in the hinterlands of the kingdom, and a wish he had found her first. The smugness that had been Darcy’s constant companion that evening welled up again within his breast.
“It seems you are enjoying yourself, Elizabeth,” observed Lady Catherine.
“Who would not at such an event? And yet, I believe I will be happy to depart on the morrow.”
“London is stuffier than I recall,” said Lady Catherine. “I do not blame you.”
Darcy shared a grin with his wife, and they stood in silence for some time. Every so often, someone would stop by with a word of greeting, a wish to be introduced to his wife, which Darcy offered with the greatest of pride.
“You need not show her off like a new stallion,” said Lady Catherine.
Elizabeth could not stifle her laughter, and Darcy did not even try. “Were she nothing more than a new stallion, I could not imagine I would have as much pride as I do now, Lady Catherine.”
“Yes, that I can see. The music for the supper set has started, so you had best join the line.”
Noting the same, Darcy extended his hand, guiding Elizabeth to the dance floor and their place on it. Though the steps took them together and apart, Darcy did not allow his gaze to stray from the luminous being who was his wife.
“Do I have a stray lock hanging out of my coiffeur?” asked his wife when they came together after a time of this. “Or perhaps my hem is loose?”
“There is nothing the matter with your appearance,” replied Darcy, “as you well know. If I do not treasure every moment with you, I know I will regret it.”
“And you will not have me with you the rest of your life?”
“Every moment is precious, Elizabeth. This no less than any other.”
“You know I feel it too,” said Elizabeth, her tone brimming with contentment.
“And none of it would have happened had you not spoken to me that day in the art gallery. Have I informed you of how grateful I am you did?”
“Only every day,” replied Elizabeth with a grin.
“Because I mean it.”
“Then you must spend the rest of your life thanking me.”
“I am determined to do so,” said Darcy.
With a smile and a nod, Elizabeth allowed the steps to take her away from him. But Darcy knew she would return. Elizabeth would always return to him. They were joined with bonds stronger than any earthly substance. Though their journey had been difficult, filled with trials, Darcy truly had no cause to repine. In fact, he had every reason for joy.
The End