Mr. Darcy's P&P POV (the abridged version) – Part 15
by Jack Caldwell
Author's note: All chapters below correspond to the chapters in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
Chapter 60 –
The weeks of our courtship were delightful. My lovely Elizabeth became again the intriguing, impertinent imp I fell in love with almost a year ago. Was it a year ago? I do not know for certain. Elizabeth even asked me when I had fallen in love, and I could not answer. I was in the middle of it before I knew what I was about.
"My beauty you had early withstood," she claimed soon after our engagement, her enchanting eyes twinkling, "and as for my manners! My behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere—did you admire me for my impertinence?"
"For the liveliness of your mind, I did." I did not add her light and pleasing figure had haunted my dreams for months. She would learn of that soon enough.
"You may as well call it impertinence at once!" she laughed. "It was very little less. The fact is you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused and interested you because I was so unlike them."
How very true.
"Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it," she continued, "but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just. And in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it! And really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me. But nobody thinks of that when they fall in love."
Fall in love. I kissed her heartily for that.
The Bennets were very surprised at our news. Mrs. Bennet could not utter more than a polite request as to my opinion of what to serve at dinner for almost a week whole! It did not last, of course, but I began to see her silliness in a more understanding light, particularly when I compared her behavior to my aunt's.
Lady Catherine took my engagement as a personal affront. She wrote to all her relations and friends, demanding that they renounce their acquaintance with me for as long as "that scheming baggage pollutes the shades of Pemberley." My uncle, the Earl, shared his sister's message with me, you see. As I hoped and expected, my remaining Fitzwilliam relations were far more reasonable, withholding any opinion about the matter until Elizabeth was introduced.
The countess was instantly charmed, and by the end of the evening the earl privately admitted that I could have done far worse. It did not hurt that Georgiana and my cousin Fitzwilliam were strong supporters of Elizabeth. As for the Viscount and his wife, they agreed not to oppose the match. That is the best I can hope from that quarter.
"The treason of the family" (Lady Catherine's words, not mine) sent my aunt into a rage. She has refused to communicate with any of us. Small loss. I am sorry for Anne, though.
Elizabeth's family and friends were far less taxing. Oh, Mrs. Bennet struts about Meryton, crowing over her "clever Lizzy's good fortune" as if she herself had anything to do with our engagement. If she drops one more hint about throwing Elizabeth's remaining sisters into the path of rich men, I think I will drink myself into a stupor. Mr. Bennet has exerted himself to actually emerge from his library—I swear he acts like a bear with a cave—and speak with me. We get along pleasantly, as long as I let him occasionally win at chess. Miss Kitty has taken pains to know me, which is more than I can say for Miss Mary. As for Elizabeth's other relations in Hertfordshire, the less time I spend with Mrs. Phillips, the better.
Compared with her, I can tolerate the parading and obsequious civility of Mr. Collins and the inane comments of Sir William Lucas with reasonable ease. I just nod at the appropriate moments, keep my face as neutral as possible, and shrug only when no one sees me.
I do not spend a moment's time thinking of Useless or his bride.
The true joy at our happiness from those closest to us—Georgiana, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, Jane, Mrs. Collins, and the Gardiners— were all I could hope for. They made the time between our betrothal and wedding pass as pleasantly as one could wish.
However, I must admit Elizabeth's behavior during our season of courtship was a trial. Not that she was anything less than a delight. That was the problem. Elizabeth made it her purpose in life to shield me from the ridiculousness of her acquaintances by stealing away with me as often as could be managed. The temptation she offered! As my darling girl had no true understanding of the effect her intoxicating presence had on me, I was forced to exercise great willpower by reminding myself I am a gentleman, and thereby should resist the innocent inducement of my intended. It was a very great struggle, particularly since Elizabeth took prodigious pleasure in kissing me when least expected.
The trials of being me.
Chapter 61 –
As I look back on events, I am relieved that everything is over and done. Marriage to my dear Elizabeth is more pleasing than I ever hoped for. We are of one mind about almost everything, and when we are not, we find the most delightful way of "convincing" one another of the validity of our opinions. I find losing such arguments not distressing in the least.
I recall very little of the marriage ceremony, except how beautiful Elizabeth appeared descending the aisle on her father's arm. As for that evening, I will only say I shall never forget the breathtaking sight of her coming to me with her hair down about her shoulders. Other memories are mine and mine alone.
I am elated that Elizabeth wishes to spend most of our time here at Pemberley. I think sometimes she loves the dear place more than I. Chief among its manifold charms is its remoteness, particularly from Hertfordshire! I will not say I do not get along with my new family, but distance makes my heart grow fonder when it comes to Longbourn, principally for my new mother. It is a relationship that should not be endangered with close intercourse. Happily, Elizabeth agrees with me.
If only Mr. Bennet would stop appearing at my doorstep at the most inopportune times! Drat the man! At least he loses himself in my library; if we are fortunate, we only see him at dinner.
I wagered that Bingley and Jane could only last a year at Netherfield, and I was right. Elizabeth forgave my smugness over the prediction when I found an estate for the Bingleys not thirty miles from Pemberley. Now, there is good company and no mistake!
To be honest, my sister Catherine—no, Kitty. I must remember that she wants to be called Kitty. My sister Kitty has been good company, too. She spends the majority of her time visiting us or the Bingleys. She and Georgiana have had a good influence on each other and are now as thick as thieves.
I cannot say the same about my other sisters. Mary remained at Longbourn, and I see no material improvement there. As for Lydia and He Who Shall Not Be Named, the less I hear about those two, the better. I wish I could say they did not have their hands in my pocket, but I can afford a little occasional generosity and make Elizabeth happy, as long as Straw For Brains never sets foot in any of my houses. So I grumble and make a show, help Useless in his profession, and make sure I am at Matlock or on a shooting trip with Bingley when Lydia comes to visit.
I never thought I could change so. Elizabeth even convinced me to forgive my Aunt Catherine for her intolerable interference and invite the old hag to Pemberley. Wonders of wonders, she came! To this day, I do not know if it was to see if Elizabeth could bear up to the responsibility of managing Pemberley (my thinking) or if the irritating battle-axe actually owns some affection for me (Elizabeth's insistence). Elizabeth is probably right. She usually is.
Ah, guests are at the door! The Gardiners are here for the summer. Excellent!
The End
