Elizabeth climbed into the coach, where she was met with the smell of polish and the feel of leather seats, so different from the Bennet coach with its musty interior and its patched upholstery. Even the blinds in the Darcy coach were made of silk.
To the happy cries of the congregation the coach set off on its way back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast. As Mr Darcy seated himself opposite her, Elizabeth caught an expression of such pure love on his face that she felt a catch in her throat.
She turned away, momentarily overcome, and he continued to read the goodwill messages whilst Elizabeth waved at the young Lucases who were laughing and cheering as the coach drove past. But she could not keep her eyes away from him for long, and they strayed to his reflection, longing to see his face again… and then her heart missed a beat, for the look of love on his face had been replaced by a look of torment.
She felt suddenly frightened. What can it mean? she wondered.
For one horrible moment, she wondered if he regretted their marriage. But no, surely not. He had given her so many proofs of his feelings, loving her constantly through her blind prejudice, her angry rejection of him at Rosings, and her sad and uncomfortable awkwardness when they had met unexpectedly at Pemberley, that she was sure he could not regret it. And yet, there had been a look of torment on his face.
She had to know what it meant. Bracing herself for the worst, she turned towards him, only to find that the look had gone and that he was calmly reading through the messages.
She was startled, but then wondered if the glass had distorted his features. It was not a mirror, only a window. It was not meant to give reflections, and the light could play strange tricks even on the smoothest surface. Certainly there was no trace of any anguish on his face now.
The coach turned into the drive of Longbourn House, and seeing the crowd waiting to welcome her, she dismissed the matter. Neighbours who had hurried ahead were waiting to greet her, full of smiles.
The mood was infectious. Darcy helped her out of the coach and then shook hands with all the guests as both he and Elizabeth were showered with rose petals and good wishes.
Jane’s carriage, which had been behind Elizabeth’s, now arrived, and to the cries of ‘Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Darcy!’ were added cries of ‘Long life and happiness, Mr and Mrs Bingley!’
Elizabeth, banishing the last of her uncertainties, seized a handful of rose petals and threw them joyfully over her sister.
Mrs Bennet cried and said, ‘Three daughters married!’ and Mr Bennet cleared his throat more than was necessary for a man without a cough.
The whole party went inside. The hall had been decked out with flowers, and the guests passed through with much talk and laughter. They went into the dining room, where the wedding breakfast was laid out. The tables were spread with snowy white cloths and the crystal sparkled whilst the silverware shone. As the guests took their places down either side of the table, Mrs Bennet fussed in and out of the room, until Mr Bennet told her that Hill had taken care of everything.
‘Sit down, my dear, and leave everything to Hill,’ he said as Mrs Bennet bobbed up from her chair for the dozenth time.
In the centre of the table, a variety of food was arranged on china plates decorated with crystallised flowers. Cold chicken, snipe, woodcocks, pheasant, ham, oysters, and beef vied with colourful salads, the last of the year, and by their side were fruit tarts, syllabubs, and cheeses. In the very centre of the table were two wedding cakes iced with the initials E and F, and J and C.
The voices faded away as people began to eat, with only the clink of glasses and the chink of knives on plates to break the silence.
When at last the guests had eaten their fill, Sir William Lucas rose to his feet.
‘And now,’ he said, ‘I would like to propose a toast: To the fairest jewels of the country, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet—’
‘Hear, hear!’ came the cries.
‘—who are now to be carried away by their fortunate husbands as Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy.’
There were more cries and cheers, and Mrs Bennet could be heard to say, ‘I am sure it will not be long before my other girls are married. Kitty is very obliging and quite as pretty as Lizzy, and Mary is the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood.’
The wedding breakfast eaten and the speeches made, it was time to cut the cake. Elizabeth and Jane rose to their feet, standing side by side with their husbands behind them. The cakes were the pride of the Longbourn kitchen. The rich fruit cake had been steeped in brandy before being topped with marzipan and covered with smooth, white icing. Elizabeth and Darcy, and Jane and Bingley, each put one hand on their respective knives and cut into their cakes. As they did so, Kitty called out, ‘Make a wish!’
And suddenly, a cold draught whipped its way around Elizabeth as, with a sudden frisson of some nameless dread, she knew she must have an answer to her forebodings. She turned to Darcy and said in an undertone, ‘I wish you would tell me truly, do you regret our marriage?’
His smile was gone in an instant and she saw some great emotion pass over his face. His hand closed convulsively over her own, squeezing it tight. And then she saw a look of resolution on his face and he said fervently, ‘No. Never.’ He applied pressure to her hand, forcing it downwards with disturbing speed and strength, and together they cut down to the bottom of the cake.
But despite his words, he was ill at ease, and as soon as the last cheer had faded away, he said to Elizabeth, ‘It is time for us to go.’
He took her hand and held it firmly in his own. He thanked the assembled company for their attendance and their good wishes, then said that he and his wife must be leaving as they had a long way to travel.
There were more good wishes as he led Elizabeth to the coach and handed her in. Just as Elizabeth was taking her seat, she heard him call up to the coachman, ‘There has been a change of plan. I want you to take us to Dover.’
‘Dover?’ asked Elizabeth in surprise as Darcy climbed into the coach and sat down opposite her. ‘But I thought we were going north, to the Lake District. Dover is in the opposite direction.’
‘We can go to the Lake District at any time. You cannot have a very strong attachment to the idea; the plan has been of short duration, and I would like to take you to the Continent instead. I want to show you Paris.’
‘But isn’t it dangerous?’ she asked.
He looked at her in some perturbation and leant forward in his seat.
‘What have you heard?’ he asked her.
‘Nothing,’ she said, startled by his change of mood. ‘Only that the war with France could break out again at any time, and that when that happens, the English will no longer be safe there.’
‘Ah, so that is all,’ he said, sinking back into his seat. ‘You have nothing to worry about. It is perfectly safe. The Peace will last awhile yet. I have friends and family in Paris, though, people I would like to see again and people I would like you to meet.’
‘You have never spoken of them before,’ she said curiously.
‘There was never any need. But you will like them, I am sure, and they will like you.’
‘I have never been to Paris,’ she said musingly. ‘I have never been out of England.’
‘Paris is changing, but it is still a city of great elegance and the Parisians are charming. Sometimes too charming,’ he said, and a shadow crossed his face. Then his mood lightened and he said, ‘I will have to guard you well.’
Chapter 2
The Darcy entourage was a large one. Behind Darcy and Elizabeth’s coach was a second carriage which contained Darcy’s valet, Elizabeth’s maid, and trunks of clothes. There were footmen to guard the party from attack and outriders to go ahead of them and pay the tolls, so that when the Darcys arrived, the turnpike was open and the coach could pass straight through.