The sky was just starting to get light when Gardiner and Darcy headed out, along with the grooms, to search for Fitzwilliam. Word had been sent out to the farms, and as the morning became brighter, more men joined in. Soon, there were more than a dozen men looking for the missing gentleman. Thankfully, the heavy rain of the night before had passed.
Just as the sun began to rise, a shout was heard among the searchers, and everyone rushed to reach the spot. Darcy was overjoyed to see his son, wet and bedraggled, walking towards him.
“Son!” Darcy rushed to Fitzwilliam, pulling him in for a quick hug and then releasing him to step back, hands on Fitzwilliam’s shoulders. “I am very happy to see you. You kept us all up, pacing the floors last night. Are you well? Where is your horse?” Darcy looked over his son’s shoulder.
“I am well. I stumbled across a small barn last night. It was abandoned, I think; the roof was mostly missing. Orlando is tied there. He came up lame not long after I made the decision to find shelter. He slipped in the mud. I cannot feel a break; I suspect a strain, but since I had no idea where I was, I thought it best to leave him there until I had worked out where we were.”
“That was wise. Can you point us in the direction of the barn? I will send someone to bring the gelding back.”
As Fitzwilliam directed one of the tenants to the building, Gardiner walked up, blanket in hand. Handing the piece of cloth to Darcy, he informed his new friend that he had sent for a carriage to pick Fitzwilliam up.
“Thank you, Gardiner, I appreciate that.” Darcy took the blanket, laying it over the shoulders of his now-shivering son. Once Fitzwilliam turned back to him from speaking to the farmers, he informed him of the coming carriage.
“Are we really that far from Longbourn? I would far rather walk. It warms the blood, and I need warming.”
Darcy’s brows rose in surprise. “I do not believe we are more than a mile away, what say you, Gardiner?”
“Not much further than that, I would imagine. But are you certain you are well enough for that, Fitzwilliam?”
“I am. I have a little chill is all.”
“Very well, then. We will walk.” Darcy positioned himself on one side of Fitzwilliam, and Gardiner on the other, and they began the trek back to Longbourn.
“How is Elizabeth? Was she worried?”
“She was. She remained below stairs until after midnight.”
“Your father had to force her to go to bed, or nearly so.”
“Did you see her this morning?”
Darcy assured his son they had. “She was waiting in the drawing room for our return.”
“Did she sleep,” Fitzwilliam asked softly.
Gardiner replied this time. “I am uncertain. She does not have the appearance of one who slept well, though.”
Fitzwilliam’s lips compressed and his stride quickened. He gave no thought to his father and Elizabeth’s uncle. All he wanted was to reassure his betrothed of his health and safety.
“Son, not so fast. We are not all in the prime of life.”
“I have to see Elizabeth. I do not want her to worry or fret any longer than she has to.”
“You will do yourself no favors by exhausting yourself before you see her,” Darcy insisted. “Slow down, a little, at least.”
Though he was clearly unhappy to do so, Fitzwilliam obeyed his father. He was sincere in his desire to relieve his betrothed’s worries. He had done a large amount of thinking last night, much of it about Elizabeth, and he needed to see her, and talk to her, as soon as possible.
With his father and soon-to-be uncle distracting him with questions and discussion, the walk back to Longbourn passed quickly. Fitzwilliam looked up as they entered the paddock, seeing the door open and his betrothed emerge from the house.
~~~***~~~
Elizabeth had stood, staring out the window of the drawing room, since her uncle and Fitzwilliam’s father had departed. Their surprise had been clear in their raised brows when she descended the stairs and joined them, but they did not remark on it. However, when she asked to accompany them, she was denied permission, first by her uncle, and then by Darcy.
“We need you here, Elizabeth, to organize the staff. We do not know what condition young Darcy will be in; he may need a hot bath, or the apothecary, or just some sleep. We will find him; you arrange for his care.”
Knowing her uncle was correct, Elizabeth acquiesced as graciously as she could manage. Then, when the men had gone, she called Hill into the drawing room to give her orders. She had not strayed from in front of the window, and had not looked away for longer than it took to direct a servant or update a family member. Therefore, when Fitzwilliam strode into the paddock flanked by the elder two gentlemen, she saw them. Choking back a sob, Elizabeth spun away from the window and sped out of the room, throwing open the front door and sprinting down the four shallow steps off the porch.
Seeing Elizabeth come flying out of the house, Fitzwilliam increased his stride, running to meet her. Catching her as she threw herself into his arms, he wrapped them tightly around her, burying his face in her neck. Then, as relief surged through him, he pulled his head back, his arms still a band of iron, holding her close, and kissed her with every ounce of feeling he had in him.
After several minutes, minutes in which his blood pounded through his veins and heart, he broke the kiss. Bringing his hands up to hold his betrothed’s face, he poured out his feelings.
“I cannot wait another moment to tell you how I feel. I love you, Elizabeth. I do not know when it began. I only know that, as I took shelter in that barn last night, with the danger of lightning or illness or the collapse of the building a real possibility, all I could think of was you: your beautiful smile, your ready wit, and your generous and kind heart. I swore that if I made it back here alive, I would share my thoughts with you. I love you, and I am so very happy that I am to be your husband.”
Tears ran in rivulets down Elizabeth’s face. “Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she choked out, “I love you, too. All I could think about last night was how empty my heart would be if you never came back to me.” Sobbing again, she could go no further.
Fitzwilliam gathered her once more in his arms. “Oh, my love, I will always come back to you.” He kissed her neck, her ear, her temple, everywhere he could reach as she cried out her relief into his coat.
Darcy and Gardiner stood back and let the couple have this time together. They did not hear everything that was said, but the passionate kiss they had witnessed informed them of the depth of the couple’s feelings. They looked at each other. Darcy raised his brow, Gardiner tipped his head toward the house and nodded, and they quietly made their way inside, giving Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth a wide berth.
Once Elizabeth’s tears had let up, she lifted her face, and Fitzwilliam immediately took possession of her mouth. He kissed her deeply, and did not stop until both were breathless. When they parted, and after they had regained their breath, Elizabeth blushed, looked down, and began to fuss.
“You are soaked through! Come, I ordered bath water for you and a hot meal. We must set you to rights, so you do not become ill. We are getting married in three days, and you do not want to have to recite your vows with a dripping nose.”
“Elizabeth,” Fitzwilliam softly replied. “Look at me.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle so that he could see her eyes. “I am well. I am here, and I am not about to die. I have too much to look forward to. I love you.” Softly kissing her once more, he pulled her close for one more hug. Then, he tucked her right hand between his elbow and his side, and walked her to the house.
~~~***~~~
Two days later, Fitzwilliam’s friend, Charles Bingley, arrived at Longbourn with his sisters and brother-in-law. The two young men had met at University and become fast friends, finding a deep camaraderie despite the vast differences in their personalities. Bingley’s openness and honesty were highly valued by Fitzwilliam, and his sober and steady temperament calmed Bingley’s gregarious impulsiveness. They relied on each other as sounding boards, and though Fitzwilliam was the more clever of the two, Bingley was equally as intelligent, with a shrewdness that stood him well as he managed what remained of his late father’s businesses from afar.
Fitzwilliam had suffered no ill effects from his night in the rain, and he had enjoyed Elizabeth’s fussing over him for the next couple of days. Now, however, he was up and about, demonstrating his good health and happiness.
“Bingley! So good to see you.” Darcy pumped his friend’s hand as he clasped Bingley’s shoulder with the other.
“You, as well. You could have knocked me over with a feather to read your news! Married, dour Darcy who refuses to dance?” Bingley shook his head and winked. “I never thought I would see the day.”
Fitzwilliam laughed heartily at his friend’s tease. “I have missed you. Did you bring your family?” He looked toward the coach.
“I dropped them off at the inn in the little town nearby.”
“Meryton. I should have known you would. The ladies will not wish to make new acquaintances while dirty from travel. You are a wise man, my friend.”
“Thank you, I do try.” They laughed together as Fitzwilliam led Bingley up the steps and inside Longbourn.
The slight buzz of conversation that could be heard from the entry hall stopped abruptly when Fitzwilliam opened the door and preceded his friend into the drawing room. The room full of ladies and gentlemen rose as one, all looking curiously at this friend of Fitzwilliam’s.
“May I introduce you all to one of my greatest friends, Mr. Charles Bingley.”
The ladies all curtseyed to him, and the gentlemen returned his bow.
“Bingley, you remember my father.”
“I do. What an honor to see you again, Mr. Darcy.”
With a grin, Darcy inclined his head to his favorite of all Fitzwilliam’s friends. “Likewise. I am always happy to see you, young man.”
Bingley’s answering grin lit up his entire face, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from at least one of the ladies present.
Fitzwilliam continued his introductions. “The gentleman on the other side of the table from my father is Mr. Edward Gardiner, of Gracechurch Street in London.”
As Bingley nodded to Gardiner, Fitzwilliam went on. “The lady on the left is Mrs. Thomas Bennet. She is the widow of Father’s greatest friend. Beside her is Miss Jane Bennet, her eldest daughter.”
Smiling broadly, Bingley greeted the ladies. His eyes kept darting toward Jane; she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. Hearing Fitzwilliam clear his throat, he forced his attention back to the introductions.
“Here we have Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Catherine Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet.” Fitzwilliam waited while the girls curtseyed to Bingley and he bowed in return. Then, his voice clearly relaying the pride he felt, he extended his hand to Elizabeth, who took it with a blush and a smile. “Last but never least, this beautiful lady is my betrothed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He lifted Elizabeth’s hand to his mouth, depositing a gentle kiss to her fingers.
“Ah, the young woman who has brought my friend to the point. Good work, Miss Elizabeth!” Bingley bowed deeply, delighted with the evidence of tender regard that he could clearly see between her and his friend.
Elizabeth’s quiet laugh was echoed around the room. “Thank you, sir. It really was not difficult.” She winked at Bingley before turning an adoring gaze up at Fitzwilliam, whose answering smile brought out his rarely-seen dimples.