By any account that the Bennet family might hold themselves to, it had been a momentous day. Two sisters wed, not only for love as they'd long hoped for themselves but also so advantageously that their mother could not help but be rendered almost mute by the accomplishment. Almost.
Mrs Bennet simmered with nerves as she hovered over her second daughter, calling out orders to the maids in as hushed tones as ever experienced by those of the household. If they'd had the inclination, they would surely have remarked that the hubbub of guests downstairs could be heard above the usual shrillness and hysteria that usually would have pervaded the building. But instead, they merely conducted themselves as their mistress commanded. The lady of the house was all too aware that she'd left the new Mrs Bingley to carry the wedding breakfast alone, her husband would surely be no help, although she fancied her recently confirmed sons-in-law would be helpful there. For now, as she instructed the hallboy to fetch another trunk, her sole purpose was focused entirely on seeing Elizabeth set for her impending journey north.
"My dear, are you certain you don't wish for your hair to be restyled? You look so becoming with a looser curl and I'm sure your new husband..." Mrs Bennet tailing off at the sight of the expression staring back at her in the glass.
Elizabeth shook her head. "I am certain, Mama," with a firmness that only confirmed the determination on her face. "Besides, there isn't time. I have kept my husband waiting long enough. Our departure was planned for nigh on half an hour ago!"
Mrs Bennet merely tutted these sentiments aside. "You must look your best, Lizzy. You are to be truly alone for the first time and I will not have him finding you wanting. Goodness knows he is one for seeking out a fault."
Elizabeth chose to let the comment pass, considering as it must be a few minutes more until such comments and opinions would be left behind her; free of Meryton and its residents, the jealous stares and faux congratulations, the whispered comments on the inequity of their match. As her mother flitted between the room and landing, muttering chastisements as yet another trunk was removed to the awaiting carriage as a pace considered too slow, Elizabeth took a deep breath and a moment for herself. Mrs Darcy. Mrs Elizabeth Darcy. The title seemed scarcely real as they meandered through her mind. How unlikely a prospect this had seemed but two months ago. And now she simply had to rise from her dressing table, descend the Longbourn staircase for the final time and join her Mr Darcy. They'd travel just a short distance as the light of the day would allow, reaching the Lakes over the course of the next few days, to spend several weeks secluded together before their final journey onto Pemberley.
"To Pemberley," the words said softly as her mother dashed back into her room for the fourth or fifth time. They had such weight that she barely had time to comprehend them.
"Lizzy!" her mother urged, "You must hurry, child! Now, you have all that you need?" She paused, uncharacteristically hesitant before launching into a rushed dialogue which would have been barely recognisable had the awkward topic of the conversation not already taken place the previous evening. "Remember, whilst it is your duty to submit, summon all your courage, my dear. It will see you through, I am sure of it."
Elizabeth felt as her cheeks began to become inflamed but, not wanting to risk a dreadful repetition of such intimacies, she stood and reached out with affection to straighten her mother's cap which had become dislodged and was sitting askew.
"Dear Mama," she started before pausing to lean closer to embrace the teary eyed woman before her, "I will miss you, but I will write, of that I promise," allowing herself to laugh gently at the loud sniff offered in reply.
It seemed an absolute age until she reached the gravel driveway where the Darcy coach stood gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, such in number were the well-wishers stationed between her room and the front door. But then, in stark contrast it seemed no time at all as with a jolt and a cheer she was away, Mrs Darcy of Pemberley with her handsome husband of ten thousand a year sitting alongside.
A silence settled over them as they sat side by side on the bench, one that only persisted as they reached the more open road that had the coachmen encouraging the horses to shift to a gallop. Since the exchange of their vows they'd barely exchanged a dozen words, she realised now, a simple asking after one another's morning had sufficed to cover the short distance by carriage from the church to Longbourn, a precursor to their shared endeavour to steal the briefest of kisses, one that, although chaste, had removed the need for supplementary conversation. However, now with the realisation of the consideration distance ahead of which they must cover, Elizabeth began to wonder whether she should speak first.
As she contemplated an appropriate topic on which to start married life, Mr Darcy reached for her. Seated at her left side, he took the hand nearest to him from where had settled it lightly in her lap. It was elegantly gloved in grey silk, complementing the dark navy of her coat, itself resting upon a dress of darker grey. He drew it to his lips, the metal band around her finger cold despite the fabric surrounding it, before carefully lowering it without releasing his hold. He caught the curious look she directed at him.
"May I?" he asked hesitantly, his eyes flicking from hers to the hand in his and back again.
Elizabeth nodded. Whilst not entirely sure for what she was giving permission, the trust that had developed between them meant his request gave her no cause for concern. He stroked the back of her hand gently before slowly tugging at the material at the end of each finger and thumb until it was loose enough for him to drag it entirely off her in one long sweeping action. He cradled her bare hand within his own before frowning and dropping it in frustration, moving to hurriedly dispense of his own gloves before taking hers up again, allowing himself a small smile as she giggled in return. He raised her hand again and kissed it reverently, clearly delighting in the warmth of her skin on his lips. And then, his eyes lifting to hers, keen to see her exact reaction, he turned over her palm and pressed it to his mouth. The gasp that it elicited pleased and encouraged him, and he trailed a few gentle kisses, slowly but deliberately heading towards his intended target, the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.
"Mr Darcy!" she exclaimed under her breath, the thrill of his action shooting through her in quite a wonderfully alarming way. "And here I was considering what conversation we might delight in on our first journey as man and wife," her eyes bright as they met his.
"You are right, of course," returning her hand to her lap once more but not relinquishing his hold. "Indeed, we have time enough for delights of many varieties. And so," he said with resolution, "On what did you settle? The weather perhaps, or the quality of your mother's cooked ham, which I agree was of the highest order."
"Sir, you tease me," she chastised gently, "Nothing so trivial will suffice. Speak to me of Pemberley, of its delights and challenges. What is it that I need to understand most immediately in order to serve as its mistress?"
Darcy gave a small smile but delayed in giving his answer, shifting himself to rest against the cushioned back of their seat, his brow creasing to appear deep in thought. Elizabeth regarded him carefully, surprised that the mere mention of his beloved Pemberley, and her permission for him to speak at length on it, had not yet garnered a word on the subject. He'd previously spoken discreetly of his love for his home, but also with such obvious passion and commitment that it had excited her that he'd chosen her as the one person with whom to share in its care. Her short visit had given but a taste of what might be to come and she was keen to learn as much as she could, but still he hesitated.
"Come now," she encouraged gently, "Whatever it is must surely not be so awful that you cannot share it with your wife," she laughed lightly, boldly squeezing his hand.
"No, no," he rushed to reassure, "Nothing so terrible," but his brow remained furrowed as a deeper thought consumed him. He struggled a moment longer before he looked up to capture her inquisitive gaze. "But I don't wish to burden you with that now, we have much time on which to ruminate on that part of our future."
Elizabeth nodded her understanding, hiding well her concern at his reluctance but soon choosing not to dwell on it. She'd learnt enough of his character to know that he'd not be pushed to a place where he'd not wish to travel. And so she made light of it and changed course, asking after his morning, how he'd survived such attention that must have been bestowed upon him. She listened attentively as he shared a few anecdotes, of which Mr Hurst's attempts to act the elder statesman for him and Mr Bingley, slithers of sage advice dispensed over generous measures of brandy, seemed to have amused him the most.
"The very notion that I would require advice from such a..." he broke off, remembering where he was, "Yes, well, suffice to say the servants of Netherfield will have quite a surprise when they discover several untouched glasses of liquor squirrelled away in the deepest corners of the Billiard Room."
"One day, Mr Darcy, I hope you'll entrust me enough to share the end of that sentence with me," she said wryly, "For I would very much like to remind you of it on our own child's wedding day, for no doubt you'll be tempted to offer something of a similar nature to whomever finds themselves in the role of groom."
She coloured as she realised what she'd said, the sudden reminder of what intimacies were to come and turned her face away, the trees that sheltered the road suddenly found to be of the utmost interest. His quiet chuckle only worsened her embarrassment and she made to withdraw her hand from his but he would not oblige her and she was forced to look back at him. The steely look in her eyes met the twinkle in his and for several miles they did not speak nor move, neither wishing to back down nor confess that what excited one perhaps frightened the other, and perhaps not in the way that either could have been sure.