Carrie Bebris - Pride and Prescience

“As I recall, Pemberley’s collection is already quite extensive,” said Mr. Gardiner. “But the library of a great house can never have too many books.”

“Agreed. Particularly if there are any deficiencies that want correction to accommodate my new wife’s reading tastes.”

“Fortunately, Elizabeth is hardly one to fill your shelves with nothing but gothic romances, as some young ladies would.”

While Mr. Gardiner’s statement was true, she felt called upon to defend a genre that had provided her many hours’ enjoyment. “Though, Uncle, I do take pleasure in them, as in many other things, and will probably add a few to Pemberley’s shelves.”

“You shall be happy to discover, then, that the library already holds quite a few novels, including gothics,” Georgiana said. “We own all of Mrs. Radcliffe’s books. My brother has even read Udolpho .”

“A ‘horrid mystery’ in every sense of the phrase,” Darcy declared.

“But diverting?” Elizabeth challenged.

“Yes,” he admitted. “And if you want a trunkful of similar tales, I will happily indulge you.”

“What think you, Georgiana?” Elizabeth asked, her gaze never leaving Darcy. “Will I always enjoy such generosity from your brother, or must I seize it while we’re still in early days?”

He replied as if they stood alone. “All I have is ever yours.”

At last, they took leave of their guests. As their carriage headed toward London, Elizabeth pondered the irony of Miss Bingley keeping her away from Pemberley just a little bit longer. But then Darcy took her hand in his and gave her a kiss that chased away all unpleasant thoughts.

Let Miss Bingley bask in the glow of her own newfound love. Today Elizabeth could begrudge no one happiness.

Next week, however — that would be another matter. When it came to warm feelings toward Caroline Bingley, even newlywed bliss had its limits.

In the privacy of their coach, Darcy enfolded Elizabeth in his arms. He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head, noting that her soft brown hair still retained the fragrance of orange blossoms. He savored the moment, still amazed by the knowledge that she was his wife now. They had an infinite number of such moments ahead.

“You’re sure you don’t mind going to London?” he asked.

“Pemberley will still be there in a se’ennight. Besides, much as I adore your sister, I rather like the prospect of having you all to myself.”

As much as he adored Georgiana, he rather liked that prospect. He tightened his embrace. “I hope you still feel that way when we arrive at an empty townhouse that has just been shut down for the winter. I sent word to the housekeeper that we’re coming, but the rider can’t be far ahead of us.”

“Ah, the inconvenience of Miss Bingley’s hasty nuptials expands.”

“So you do mind. Does it upset you that she used our wedding as a forum for her own announcement?”

“I confess, I was vexed at first. But then I saw them together. Mr. Parrish seems truly besotted with her, and she with him. Have they known each other long?”

He stretched out his legs as far as he could, angling them toward the opposite side of the carriage. “I believe they met at Almack’s when we were all in town last winter.”

“The infamous ‘marriage mart’? Was it love at first sight?”

“I wouldn’t know — I avoid the place myself.” Most of the ton considered Almack’s the place to meet men and women of proper quality, but he found the club, with its perpetual parade of debutantes seeking husbands, distasteful. Though it was the most exclusive club in London, he declined all invitations to its balls, and had directed Georgiana to do the same upon her coming out.

Her eyes shone with merriment. “Lucky for me, or some accomplished lady with a handsome face would have tempted you long before you laid eyes on my tolerable countenance.”

He winced at the memory of the snub he’d incautiously uttered within her hearing the evening they first met — an opinion he’d long since reversed. “Will you never let me forget that most undeserved slight?”

“Never. I delight too much in teasing you about it.” Her fingertips gently smoothed his creased brow. “Fortunately, I’m not a vain woman. I doubt Mr. Parrish could have overcome such an adverse start to his acquaintance with Miss Bingley. Not that I can imagine him saying such a thing given how rapidly he formed an attachment to her.”

“He does seem devoted.”

“Did you know him before today?”

“We met a few times. You will recall that I spent part of last spring at Rosings, so I was absent for much of the official season. He seems an amiable fellow, with exceptionally good manners for an American. I understand he’s very well liked in town — more than one lady will be unhappy to hear of his engagement.”

“That is usually the case, when a wealthy man weds. You and Bingley dashed countless hopes today. Alas, the cruelty of a double wedding!”

His wife flattered him — Darcy could think of no woman mourning the end of his bachelorhood. “I expect any disappointed young misses will quickly recover.”

“I was speaking of their mothers.”

The twenty-four miles to London passed quickly, thanks to fair weather and his wife’s company. As the carriage pulled up to the townhouse, Darcy wished he could have given his housekeeper and her severely reduced staff enough notice to properly prepare the home for the arrival of its new mistress, but there was no helping that now. Mrs. Hale, he was sure, would have at least managed to uncover the furniture, light fires in the main rooms, and prepare dinner. Once the servants he’d recalled from Pemberley returned, they would have a more comfortable stay.

He assisted Elizabeth out of the carriage, retaining her hand in his as he led her up the steps in the waning winter light. He squeezed her fingers as he opened the front door. “Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy.”

They discovered, however, that the home was hardly welcoming. Naught but the sounds of clanking keys and hurried footfalls greeted them in the dim vestibule. A moment later, a very startled Mrs. Hale appeared, lamp in hand. “Who’s there?”

“It’s only us, Mrs. Hale.”

“Mr. Darcy? Sir?” The housekeeper’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of her master, accompanied by her new mistress. Her ruddy complexion turned an even deeper shade of red. “I–I’m so sorry, sir — I thought you were going to Pemberley after the wedding? Oh, dear! I must have misunderstood your instructions! Miss Ben — Mrs. Darcy — Madam, forgive me for not having the house done up proper to receive you!”

“Our plans changed unexpectedly,” Elizabeth explained.

“I see, madam. ..” His wife’s soothing tone only seemed to fluster Mrs. Hale further as her gaze darted about the house. “Good gracious me. Oh, dear… oh, dear…” Her workroughened hand threatened to dislodge the mobcap from her grey head.

Darcy quickly took in the unlit rooms, the covered furniture, his servant’s disconcerted state. “Didn’t anyone arrive ahead of us to inform you?”

A footman entered from the back of the house. “Sir, I’ve only just come in — my horse threw a shoe on the road.”

No wonder the housekeeper was beside herself. Mrs. Hale took pride in running a well-organized home, and with adequate notice would have striven to impress her new mistress.