Pride and Prescience (2 page)

Sensing someone’s gaze upon her, Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet those of her new husband. Darcy stood some distance away, enduring the effusive congratulations of Mr. Collins, who had apparently found himself unequal to the effort of holding his own tongue long enough to overhear Mr. Parrish’s words, and had therefore chosen to confer upon one of the bridegrooms his felicitations and sagacious marital counsel.
Despite Darcy’s diverted attention, the clergyman continued his discourse unabated, completely insensible of the interruption in attendance to his soliloquy.

Though Darcy had cropped his dark brown hair a little shorter than usual for today, unruly curls yet wisped round his head. Short side-whiskers lent prominence to his strong jaw, while the lapels of his double-breasted coat accented the broad shoulders that so capably bore the weight of many responsibilities. Not of brawny build, he nevertheless exuded puissance, the noble virility of a classical marble bust come to life.

He towered over her cousin, his stature enabling her to see every nuance of his countenance. The man who could quell observers with the rise of a single dark brow bestowed upon her a look of infinite tenderness before returning his gaze to Mr. Collins.

“Miss Bingley can have every acre of Pemberley,” she said softly. “I have the real fortune.”

She glanced once more at her husband. Poor Darcy—stuck in the corner with Mr. Collins, and no end to the interview in sight! Noting that the servants had just laid out the tea table, she headed for it, intending to relieve Darcy’s suffering by interrupting the conversation to offer refreshment. No sooner had she poured coffee to take to the gentlemen, however, than Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst approached the table.

“I’m positively parched.” Miss Bingley took one of the cups from Elizabeth’s hands.

Mrs. Hurst took the other. “Yes, it is very dry in this room.”

Elizabeth forbore suggesting that perhaps Miss Bingley’s thirst derived from having spent the morning talking excessively about herself and Mr. Parrish. Instead, she commented on that safest and most meaningful of all topics—the weather—observing that there had been little rainfall of late.

“A providential circumstance for your wedding,” Mrs. Hurst said, “particularly since it was held in the country. Otherwise,
you would have risked dragging the hem of your gown through mud on your way into church.”

“And what a charming little church—not at all like the large London ones where so many in our circle have tied the knot. Here we could all be so snugly seated.” Miss Bingley’s voice held all of the usual smugness with which she addressed any of the Bennets. “Altogether a nice little affair from beginning to end. Do you not agree, Louisa? How fortunate you are, Eliza, to have had your mother to guide you in the planning.”

Elizabeth ignored the poorly stifled snicker that erupted from Mrs. Hurst. The Bingley sisters had never managed to mask their disdain for her mother, had seldom even tried. In moments of self-honesty, she conceded that their criticism was not without foundation. But their rudeness was. Mrs. Bennet might lack restraint and good judgment, but her silly behavior had at its root the sincere wish of seeing her five daughters securely settled, and maybe even happy. The Bingley sisters, in contrast, had demonstrated by words and deeds that they ultimately had no one’s interests at heart but their own.

“Mrs. Bennet must have taken particular pleasure in preparing for today, since she was unable to participate in your youngest sister’s wedding,” Mrs. Hurst said.

“Yes—how is Mrs. Wickham?” Miss Bingley asked.

“She is well,” Elizabeth responded civilly. In other words, Lydia was still infatuated with the wastrel she’d married, and therefore as happy as a flighty, thoughtless, self-absorbed girl can be. Though Elizabeth loved her sister, the remembrance of last summer’s scandalous elopement yet pained her, and she felt guilty relief that when Wickham’s previous misconduct toward the Darcy family rendered it impossible to include him on today’s guest list, Lydia had chosen to remain with her husband at his military post in Newcastle rather than attend the nuptials.

“Have you any advice for those of us who will soon follow
you down the aisle?” Miss Bingley pressed, casting a conspiratorial smirk at Mrs. Hurst. Louisa leaned forward for Elizabeth’s response.

“With your own taste to guide you, I am sure your celebration could derive no further benefit from my opinions.”

The Bingley sisters returned to their party, where Caroline continued to hold court with Mr. Parrish. The American’s distinct accent seemed to entertain its listeners independent of whatever he had to say.

Elizabeth poured more coffee and carried it to Darcy and Mr. Collins. “Forgive the interruption, gentlemen, but I thought you might appreciate something to drink. I’ve been informed that it’s dry in here.”

Darcy’s look of gratitude had nothing to do with the refreshment.

“Cousin Elizabeth, your eagerness to serve your new husband does you credit.” Mr. Collins accepted the coffee but could not leave off talking long enough to taste it. “Do allow me to express once more my most heartfelt wishes for your future happiness. Though, as I was just expressing to Mr. Darcy, it grieves me that you entered into the matrimonial state without his aunt’s permission. You will, I am sure, be gladdened to hear that her ladyship still tolerates the mention of your husband’s name in her presence, an omen which leads me to believe that if you applied to Lady Catherine with the utmost humility and the deference to which one of her rank is entitled, she may in due course yet condescend to approve the match.”

“What a relief! I know not how Mr. Darcy and I will get on until we obtain her approbation.”

“Thank goodness you realize the seriousness of the situation. I had feared you were insensible of the grave insult you have paid her ladyship—”

“Mr. Collins,” she said as if addressing him in confidence, “I have just come into the knowledge that there is another
couple here who could benefit from your insights on marriage.” She directed his attention toward the sofa. “Miss Bingley and Mr. Parrish have just announced their engagement, and only moments ago, the lady was seeking my counsel on planning the ceremony. Certainly you—longer married than I, and a clergyman besides—could offer her valuable instruction.”

Mr. Collins nodded enthusiastically. “I could indeed. There is so much a betrothed couple ought to consider—”

“And they should consider it all.”

“Before I depart, I shall make myself better acquainted with them.”

“Why delay?” Elizabeth asked. “There is an empty seat near Miss Bingley. This is the perfect occasion to share your knowledge.”

The clergyman wanted no further encouragement. “You are right, cousin Elizabeth. Wisdom can never be imparted too early. If you and Mr. Darcy will excuse me?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Collins hastened to Miss Bingley’s side, eliciting an expression of horror from that lady and a charge of satisfaction from Elizabeth.

“I had no idea I married a woman capable of such cruelty to another of her sex.”

She met Darcy’s smile. “I merely thought that someone so desirous of attention and someone so generous in extending it should be united in conversation.”

“Somehow, I doubt Miss Bingley agrees.”

“I can call him back, if you wish.”

“Do not dare.”

Spotting Charlotte Collins approaching the tea table, she contemplated how much luckier she was than her friend, in having found a life partner worthy of her respect. Charlotte had gone into her marriage fully sensible of her husband’s
oddities, and managed Mr. Collins skillfully, but Elizabeth nevertheless preferred her own definition of happiness.

Darcy followed her gaze. “I am glad your friend Mrs. Collins could be here. Have you had much opportunity to visit with her?”

“Very little. I’ve been trying to devote a bit of time to each of our guests. As a consequence, I feel I’ve spent the morning talking ceaselessly but saying nothing.”

“Then you shall fit right in with the
haut ton
.”

She looked up at him, this man with whom she was now joined. “Everyone wants a few minutes with the bride,” she said quietly, “and all I want are a few minutes with you.”

“Only a few? I had counted on a lifetime.”

Her mischievous spirit returned. “Did you not realize? I took you on probation.”

“And how have I acquitted myself thus far?” He regarded her with amusement.

“Beyond every expectation. Not that there was ever much doubt of my keeping you, but a man willing for my sake alone to bear the conversation of Mr. Collins has no equal.”

Their social obligations compelled them to part. Darcy went to the Gardiners, while Elizabeth met Mrs. Collins at the tea table. She embraced her friend, noting immediately her thickened waist.

“Charlotte, I must tell you again how pleased I am that you managed to come.”

“I would not have missed it. Had Lady Catherine withheld permission for Mr. Collins to attend, I would have urgently wished to visit my mother once more before my confinement, or developed a craving for cream that could be satisfied only by the Lucas Lodge dairy. My husband is so nervous about my ‘delicate state of health’ that he would not dare refuse me.”

As Charlotte tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Elizabeth noted that a few strands of grey had emerged amid
the auburn since she last saw her friend. “You are feeling well?”

“Very, despite her ladyship’s insistence that I behave as an invalid—when I’m not attending to matters she deems more important, of course.”

She poured tea for herself and Charlotte. “I wonder that Mr. Darcy’s aunt spared her clergyman leave to attend a wedding she herself has denounced.”

“I suspect she approved our being present so that she could demand an account of all the sordid details upon our return.”

“And what will you report?”

“Let’s see . . .” She cocked her head, studying Elizabeth with keen blue eyes. “Mrs. Darcy looked radiant in a full dress of Brussels lace over white silk, with a low yet modest neckline, high waist, short sleeves, and a wreath of orange blossoms securing her veil.” Her gaze darted across the room. “Her bridegroom wore a dark blue dress coat, white waistcoat, highly starched cravat, and—” She turned back to Elizabeth. “Really, are gentlemen’s clothes half so interesting? What else? The wedding breakfast featured eight courses and three wines. And so on. But those are the particulars her ladyship will enquire about. What she won’t ask, but what I shall endeavor to reveal, is that her nephew appeared as happy as his new bride.”

“Despite having ruined his great family with disgraceful connections?” Elizabeth mocked Lady Catherine’s contemptuous tone. “She will not be pleased at the knowledge.”

“I am. I hoped for this event when you visited us last spring, you know. Perhaps in time her ladyship will come to accept you.”

“I am told that if I grovel sufficiently, such felicity may be mine.”

Charlotte stirred milk into her tea, her expression turning serious. “I shall surely miss your visits otherwise. You must
write often, and tell me about your new life. Do you plan a honeymoon trip?”

“Not immediately. Jane and Mr. Bingley have invited us to stay at Netherfield tonight. We’ll depart for Derbyshire with Mr. Darcy’s sister in the morning. With Christmas approaching, we want simply to get settled at Pemberley before the Gardiners join us three weeks hence. Perhaps we’ll go away in spring.”

She lingered long with Charlotte, conscious that circumstances surrounding their respective marriages meant that this could be her last opportunity to see her friend for quite a while. Periodically, laughter and exclamations erupted from Miss Bingley’s party, drawing their gazes in that direction. Elizabeth had expected the assembly to disperse upon Mr. Collins’s arrival, but Mr. Parrish apparently had such a pleasing manner of address that he’d managed to rescue the conversation from the painful death it would have suffered under the clergyman’s enthusiastic participation. The American was currently sharing a tale from his homeland, his style quite animated.

“Mr. Bingley’s sister has made a good match,” Charlotte noted. “It appears she’ll enjoy both fortune and affection in her marriage.”

“Yes, though one suspects she would have accepted Mr. Parrish for his fortune alone. He certainly seems a better catch than her sister’s husband.” A quick scan for Mr. Hurst found him dozing on the room’s other sofa, an empty sherry glass balanced on his expansive abdomen.

“Her fiancé is certainly a handsome man.” In that particular, Elizabeth agreed. Mr. Parrish was tall and slender, with sandy brown hair and an open countenance. “Do you know much about him?” Charlotte asked.

“No more than what Miss Bingley put into general circulation today. She introduced him to me only as ‘Mr. Frederick Parrish
of Louisiana.’ I confess to mounting curiosity, however. Shall we make ourselves better acquainted?”

“By all means.”

“Some believe,” Mr. Parrish was saying as they approached, “on nights of the new moon, the poor mademoiselle’s spirit yet haunts the Place d’Armes.”

“Good Lord!” Elizabeth’s sister Kitty exclaimed. “I tremble just to hear it! Have you ever seen her apparition yourself?”

“No, Miss Bennet. Nor any of New Orleans’s other famous ghosts.”

“There are more? Oh, tell us of another!”

Despite Elizabeth’s predisposition to think unfavorably of Miss Bingley’s betrothed, Mr. Parrish did seem a spellbinding storyteller. Even Mr. Bennet, though some distance away, appeared to attend Parrish’s words more closely than those of his own companion. But perhaps that was because her father was presently subject to the befuddled discourse of Mr. Edwards. The elderly vicar who had officiated this morning’s ceremony suffered from declining wits, a condition that had led to some fascinating sermons in recent years.

Mr. Parrish rose upon sighting the two ladies. “Please, Mrs. Darcy, take my seat.”

His address marked the first time someone had called her “Mrs. Darcy,” and she experienced a small rush at the sound of the words. Miss Bingley, however, did not look nearly so delighted by them—unless it had been Parrish’s offer of the place next to her that caused displeasure to enter her eyes. No matter. Elizabeth could think of many places, some of them in the barn, where she would rather sit than directly beside Miss Bingley.