I very much appreciate all the reviews, follows and favorites. For those of you (mostly anonymous) who don't like this story or this Mr. Darcy, that's okay. This story is for those that want to read it, and not for those that don't. There are plenty of other stories out there for whatever version of ODC you are searching for. And no, a few negative reviews won't discourage me at all.

I can see that FF keeps misbehaving. This story was listed in my list of stories and then it was not, I was able to find it under the general P&P list under "M" and then it would not let me go to other chapters. Should I post this story to AO3 also, do you suppose?


14. Engaged and Married

I found myself being impressed by Miss Bennet, and then later Miss Mary, more so than I had expected. I had imagined Miss Bennet to be good natured if perhaps vacuous, Miss Mary to be pedantic. But both had been insightful and showed a pleasing devotion to their sister.

I had been prepared to yield enough to gain Miss Elizabeth's hand, but found myself willing to give way in the face of Miss Mary's argument, which showed good sense. I was pleased to see a bit of fire in Miss Elizabeth, but also to gain her agreement.

I began to imagine a future where eventually I might even be willing to have Miss Bennet and Miss Mary visit. But certainly not until my own sister was married and could visit herself. It would hardly be fair for Miss Elizabeth to have the company of her sisters when I could not.

Too, although I of course needed sons, I began to think about what it would be like to have daughters, to see how as they grew they would support one another. Georgiana and I had been too far apart in age for her to be of much use to me until rather recently. And there were some things that I could never share with her.

Growing up I had been rather lonely. I was not permitted to play with the children of the servants or the children that lived in Lambton, and although there were other estates in Derbyshire, most of the children of the prominent landowners had their own brothers for companionship and when I was in their company I could never seem to figure out how to make them like me. While I occasionally had the company of the Earl's sons, Richard at nearly five years my senior was the closest to my age and had become a better companion when we were both of age than before.

I recalled when I was perhaps five years of age how I began longing for a brother more than anything, for it was then that I had seen how Richard was with John, and being left out. Yes, I had George Wickham and he was not a terrible companion, but we did not enjoy the same things and it did not help that he would roll his eyes and sigh when I suggested some activity that he disliked, and make me feel less than for suggesting it.

I envied the innate understanding I had observed between the Bennet sisters, the care they showed for one another. It seemed a thing that had to be bred from being sisters, could not really be acquired by friends. Although I cared for Richard and Bingley, I had no doubt that in choosing to marry Miss Elizabeth that would likely be the end of our friendships.

Mr. Philips drew up the paperwork as I specified and as Miss Elizabeth had gained her majority she was able to sign for herself. The settlement was generous and terms were set out as to the support of her family. Still, she took her time in reading over the document and even when she was finished, hesitated to pick up her quill.

Miss Mary whispered to her, "All will be well, Lizzy; you are doing as you must."

Miss Elizabeth gave a single nod and with her face bearing an expression more appropriate for a funeral than an engagement, she picked up the pen and quickly scrawled her name. Miss Mary's expression was hardly less solemn than her sister's, but both of them seemed more at ease once the signing was done.

Mr. Philips was the only only who seemed happy at the prospect of the wedding. His wide smile was unseemly, and while I should have been feeling triumphant just then, the Miss Bennets' expressions had tempered my own reaction and I only allowed myself a small smile.

Mr. Philips thumped me on the shoulder once we both had signed and said "You have saved us all." Then he shook my hand with such vigor that you would have thought I was marrying his ugly ape leader daughter (Did he have children? I could not recall.) rather than his lovely niece. He also insisted we have a tipple together. I threw back the drink and was ready to go, while he sipped and lingered.

When he was finally finished, as I did not wish to wait any longer than I had to, to marry Miss Elizabeth, I insisted "Now that we are agreed, let us visit the parson."

Miss Elizabeth twisted her lips at that but then responded, "Very well."

Mr. Philips was kind enough to accompany us all in my carriage, so that all proprieties might be observed, and sat beside me while the sisters sat with each other, Miss Elizabeth apparently deriving some comfort from Miss Mary. While it was a less than a five minute journey to the parson, Mr. Philips's volubility was such that I was unable to talk with Miss Elizabeth at all. Not that I thought she had any interest in talking to me. That caused me some distress, for I had never truly anticipated that when all was said and done that she might not wish to marry me.

Matters were arranged most easily with the parson for the ceremony to be held the next day and then the four of us went to Longbourn. While I had been there earlier in the morning, I may be excused for not noticing much as I only spent a few minutes within and was anxious to get to Miss Elizabeth, but this time I noted the conditions were quite grim.

The house stunk of tallow, the furniture was almost all gone, artwork was absent and in the better light of day it was evident that the cleaning had been sore neglected. No servant even greeted us upon our entrance. What had been sufficient furniture for two in what was apparently the main parlor (what I had imagined previously to be a seldom used room), was barely sufficient for four and decidedly insufficient for seven (the baby not counting). Therefore, Mr. Philips and I were obliged to stand when Miss Mary came back with Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia and the baby and there were still not enough seats.

"What is the urgency?" Mrs. Bennet cried before she had even made it through the parlor door. "It is only my brother, Mr. Philips."

"Not him alone, Mrs. Bennet," I corrected as she stepped into the room, her daughters trailing behind her.

"Oh Mr. Darcy, I did not see you just then. How good you are to call upon us. Has Mr. Bingley opened up Netherfield, then?" She looked about as if Bingley might be hiding in my shadow or behind the door. It put to mind how when I had played sardines with my sister, I had to pick the most obvious hiding spots or she would never find me (not that it was a very good game of sardines when Georgiana, her nurse (and later her governess) and I were the only ones playing).

"No, indeed." I responded coolly.

"Have you some message from him, or one perhaps from the Collinses?" Mrs. Bennet asked.

"No," I replied. I was not of a mind to say more to such a vulgar woman and perhaps that was evident to all, for it was Mr. Philips that announced our news.

Mrs. Bennet's mouth hung open as Mr. Philips explained that I was marrying her daughter the next day and that they would move from Longbourn to the inn and then remove to Bath. Then Mrs. Bennet vigorously shook her head, explaining "It cannot be my Lizzy you wish to marry, for you have always thought her ugly . . . although, I suppose she must have improved to you, as you did dance with her at the Netherfield Ball."

"Mother, you should not say such things," Elizabeth replied gently, a blush tingeing her cheeks.

"Oh hush Lizzy. He did most certainly treat you ill. Why everyone heard what he did! None liked him after that, you may be sure. So proud and haughty, so ungentleman-like. I am sorry you shall be married to him, though of course you shall have many jewels and fine carriages to console yourself with and so long as you do your duty to him better than I could for your father, you shall be taken care of your whole life. Not like I have been."

Mrs. Bennet nodded her head and then declared. "I shall certainly be glad to have a daughter married, but tomorrow? No indeed. There must be celebrating, proper wedding clothes sewn, visiting with neighbors. All must know of our good fortune."

Then Mrs. Bennet's her tentative happiness turned to avarice, "You must take us all to London, then sponsor all my daughters for a proper season." Then she looked over at Mary and sniffed, "Well, perhaps not all of us."

Before I could even make a reply, Mrs. Bennet tilted her head and wheedled, "With your funds can you not buy Longbourn for me? I do not wish to leave my home. And if that is not possible, I want to live near Meryton by my sister; perhaps you can buy Netherfield? You have a house in town, too, do you not? Perhaps we could live there. I do not know anyone in Bath and I do not wish to go there."

Mr. Philips interjected. "The terms have all been determined, the documents all signed. They marry tomorrow and as soon as suitable lodging can be arranged, you will all remove to Bath."

"How could you do this to me, brother?" Mrs. Bennet whined. "It is not proper, none of it."

Mrs. Bennet looked over at Miss Elizabeth then and declared "What a sly creature you are, Lizzy, for this engagement must have been in place for many a month yet you told me naught of it, me, your own beloved mother, when I was fretting so about the future of little George. Tell your Mr. Darcy we must stay right here or you will not marry him."

"I shall not," Miss Elizabeth replied calmly.

"Then I shall never speak to you again, ungrateful child!" In a huff, Mrs. Bennet turned away from Miss Elizabeth, and then to my amazement she stamped her foot and sulked like a child deprived of a sweet.

Mr. Philips attempted to reason with his sister. "Lizzy is doing what she must, and you must as well. In Bath, no one will know of our family's shame. You can claim that Lydia is a widow."

"I want to be Mrs. Wickham," Miss Lydia declared happily. "Yes, we married in Scotland and then he went off to war and died." Then she set her bottom lip to trembling and in faked sadness (it was rather poor acting, not believable at all) said "Oh, my poor lost George, buried in a foreign land."

I looked over at Miss Lydia in amazement. I did not understand how she could wish to claim such an affiliation with the scoundrel who had defiled her and had certainly never wed her. I also did not think anyone could possibly believe her.

I noted then that Miss Lydia's short black gown (which buttoned up the front) did not have all the buttons done up. I also noticed that the child had a black hair, and a cast to his features that could not have come from Mr. Wickham.

"No," said Mr. Philips.

"I shall help you think of a good last name," Miss Mary offered.

"How about Denny?" Miss Catherine suggested.

"No!" Miss Lydia yelled. "It shall be Mrs. Wickham or Miss Bennet, nothing else."

The baby began to whine in her arms. She said, "I am decided. Now I must go finish feeding little George."

The whole turn the conversation had taken horrified me. I could not get away from that family fast enough. I told Miss Elizabeth, "I shall see you at the church tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Until then," I told her and without a backwards glance I walked out of the parlor and then the the house, climbing in my carriage and leaving immediately.

Much of the short journey back to the inn, I spoke to myself and complained. "Horrid family, vulgar mother with no sense, silly youngest daughter with no shame, and out of all of this my loveliest wife-to-be still captured me. Yes I am bound for the parson's mousetrap, but I do not repine it."

Then I added the thought, although just in my head, for I could not bear that anyone else should get at her monosyllable. Yes, by tomorrow night I shall have all of my Elizabeth. I then imagined how it could be when we were married and bound for London. In the carriage I would press sweet kisses to her lips, tease her mouth open with just the tip of my tongue, tip the velvet properly, begin to introduce her to the pleasure we could have together. But I would be restrained, be the gentleman.

It would be my hope to incite the flame of passion within her, tend it, help it to grow, so that when at my London home for the night, we might finally be joined. I told myself, steady now. Do not fret about her family. By this time tomorrow, I shall be her husband and I shall never have to see her mother or that little trollop again. Surely with such inducement, I can put up with them all for another day.

I had trouble sleeping until after I tossed off and then slept well enough until I awoke even before the sun had risen, already hard again. I pictured Miss Elizabeth naked and willing in my bed, imagined my hand was her mouth and found my pleasure once again. I did not recall ever having such a need as I had in these past couple of days (except in the arms of Marie). Still, I was hopeful that these efforts would help me restrain myself from acting on my passions until that evening (That evening, it was finally almost here!), when I might finally come to Elizabeth's bed.

I wanted to stoke my new wife's passion, give her pleasure, make her enjoy all I would expect of her. I certainly did not want to do anything that would make her fear the marital bed.

I arrived at the church far earlier than needed and spied from my carriage the arrival of the Bennets. I was glad to see as they exited their carriage that they were arrayed in softly colored gowns rather than their mourning gowns. I saw, too, when Miss Elizabeth exited that she was wearing the very same butter yellow gown that I she had worn at the Netherfield Ball. I wondered if she had worn it special for me, or if it was simply the best gown she possessed that had not been dyed black.

Still, she was far too thin in it and I determined that I should make it my mission to bring some fullness to her cheeks, her bosom. Still, even the small glimpse I had of her from the carriage made me desire her. However, fortunately, that problem went away when I saw to my great dismay that Miss Lydia had arrived with her baby.

It was such an odd thing for her to do! No one attended church with their young children, not a one. If there was no one to tend to a child, the mother stayed with him.

However, although the Bennet were early, they we not the first by far to approach the church. No indeed. Mrs. Bennet had apparently informed all of Meryton somehow, for a stead stream of humanity was already walking toward the church before even I arrived, and it was fairly thick by the time the Bennets did.

Mrs. Bennet took the child just after Miss Lydia climbed out with him and then Miss Lydia (just after grabbing Miss Catherine's arm to bring her with her) rushed up to some young women coming toward the church. I could not hear what was said, but it was evident to me from the stiffness with which they held themselves that they were uncomfortable with her approaching them.

I saw Miss Lydia point to her child, but the women broke away from her and proceeded to the church in an apparent cut. Miss Lydia grimaced and then began trying again with someone else.

By this time, the rest of the Miss Bennets had already gone into the church. It was just Miss Lydia, her mother with the child and Miss Catherine.

I had seen enough. I got out of my carriage and walked quickly past Mrs. Bennet, who was speaking with another matron. I heard the woman say, "I must go find a seat."

Mrs. Bennet replied, "Oh, there is no hurry, I am sure. I want to tell you all about Lizzy's good fortune. She shall be so rich, for Mr. Darcy is as good as a lord! Can you imagine all the carriages, the jewels? I would not be surprised if the other girls marry even better, with his sponsorship. Oh, they shall all have their curtsy to the queen, attend many balls and schemes. I shall go all distracted! I might even find a handsome older widower for myself." Then she tittered.

While I was hoping to pass unobserved, Mrs. Bennet spotted me and yelled out, "Mr. Darcy, come here. Tell Mrs. Goudling all about your great love for my daughter."

I replied (I certainly did not yell) as I approached a little, "Good day Mrs. Bennet; good day, Mrs. Goulding." I tipped my hat towards them. "I am sorry, but I must need talk to the parson just now."

It was not a cut, but it certainly was not friendly by any means. Of course I did not need to speak to the parson, but I did talk to him for a few moments when I entered, explained that I did not have anyone standing up for me and must need another witness. He promised to arrange it all.

Then I set about looking for Miss Elizabeth. Miss Mary was kind enough to tell me that she was out in the church yard. I heard a little of what she told her father, and when she was done I talked with her a little. Seeing the devotion she had to Mr. Bennet, I found myself feeling jealous of her affection, hoping that she would be equally devoted to me.

We exchanged a bit of conversation and then she left me in the graveyard and went back into the church. I lingered there for a few minutes, thinking about my departed mother and father. I most certainly wanted a better marriage than they had, but I was uncertain that I would be getting that.

I felt that I was seeing things clearly then. My own fiancee had not cared to linger near me. She was marrying me because she had to, not because she wanted to. Also, she did not even know that another option possibly (I could not say with certainty) existed. I felt guilty then that I had not told her of Richard's possible offer. True, it was not a certain thing, true, I had no responsibility to tell her of another man's interest, but I felt a prick from my conscience. I knew not telling her was the wrong thing to do.

Still, I could not risk losing her. No indeed. I needed her to be my wife like a plant needs rain, like a parched man needs a drink. I resolved that I would tell her perhaps in a few weeks, when we were well settled in our marriage. Perhaps it would be like a joke between us.

Soon enough it was time for us to be married. The service was long and tedious as it always was. I could have asked for just the necessary elements, but in having the whole thing I felt would show the proper gravity that a marriage ceremony needed. I hoped, when I slid my great-grandmother's sapphire ring upon her finger that Miss Elizabeth would show some happiness. I could have given her just a plain gold band, after all. But if she noticed, she gave no evidence of it.

I reassured myself that my bride was nervous, that she had no way of knowing what that ring meant to me. I reminded myself that she had only had a couple of days to get herself accustomed to the idea of marrying me, while I had given the matter much thought before proposing the year before.

After we had signed the registry and the witnesses had as well, and Mrs. Darcy was given the certificate of marriage, I offered my arm and escorted her out of the church. Many people were trying to talk to us, to offer congratulations and such. I did my best to be pleasant even as I was determined to leave. Perhaps I should have allowed her a wedding breakfast, but Mrs. Bennet's conduct, Miss Lydia's conduct too, made me certain that I had made the right decision. Too, there was no place to host it, with Longbourn being as it currently was.

Within ten minutes we had departed from the church door and gotten in the carriage. A few minutes were spent in having my wife's trunk loaded onto the carriage and secured with rope beside my own smaller traveling trunk. Once that was all arranged, we were off.

For some few moments it was pleasant just to sit beside my bride, to recall with pleasure how she had pledged herself to me, was now Elizabeth Darcy, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, was now my wife. While I had imagined kissing her in the carriage, she seemed too stiff beside me to welcome that. Her expression was cold and forbidding, nothing like what I could have pictured.

I longed for some conversation, but could think of nothing to say that did not sound inane when I considered it. I did not understand why she said nothing.

I cannot quite explain it, but I felt oppressed in knowing how my cousin might have wanted to marry her and found myself telling her of all of it. I do not know if I wanted to see some emotion from her, or just to get it over with. If she was unhappy to be marrying me, why not get all the unhappiness out of the way at once?

Whatever the reason, I told her of it and she did indeed react, at first with disbelief, in knowing he could ill afford to marry her. Once I began to speak, I could hardly stop until I had told her all about it.

I confessed that I did not regret my actions, for "I could not, would not let him have you, even if the two of you might have been happy. I am a jealous man and could never bear to have you in his embrace, warming his bed." Just saying those words made me angry in imagining what could have been.

Perhaps my tone grew harsher as I declared resolutely, "You were always to be mine once I had decided upon it. In truth, I can provide for you and your family better than he ever could. But I do not doubt that at some time you shall hear something of the matter."

Elizabeth began opening her mouth and imagining how she would lambast my actions, perhaps even tell me that she hated me, I was determined to cut off her discourse before it could begin. I told her, "Now that I have unburdened myself, let us never speak of it again. That road has been foreclosed and you are mine, now."

I turned toward her and stared her in the eyes, wanting her to see my determination, to understand all I felt for her. I could tell what I had said made her angry, but in her anger I could see the passionate woman she was. I was prepared to hear all her angry words, to have her cry, to have to comfort her afterwards (for there was certainly no one else to comfort her than me). I think I would have welcomed her emotion should it then have resulted in me holding her in my arms.

But Elizabeth did not do that. I saw her clench her jaw tight, bite back whatever words she wished to scream at me. I wondered then, Did she want to marry him? If they had wed, if they were even now traveling in a carriage to their new home, would she be telling him "Oh how I love you Richard. I am so glad you came for me so I did not have to marry your haughty cousin.

I also imagined an alternative, that years from now she might sneak Richard into her bed, they might exchange declarations of love and happily make a cuckold of me. I even imagined her growing ripe with his child. I knew these thoughts were ridiculous and certainly not a portend of anything to come, but they still affected me.

I had thought myself well under control, but something in me snapped just then and I knew I had to have her there and then, that the evening and my London home were too far away, that I needed to make her mine in a way that could never be undone. I tried to give her a bit of warning in declaring "Well Elizabeth, you are my wife by the letter of the law. Now to seal it through deed. Once I am done with you, you shall never think of him again!"

I found myself pushing my wife down across the seat. I was half on and half off the seat. I remained standing while bent as there was a certain part of my anatomy that I wished to keep away from her just then.

I began kissing her with all my passion. I let it all loose, every demanding bit of it, soon enough loosened her lips enough to gain entrance, to stroke her tongue with my own. Oh, how good it was! While she was not returning my kiss, she was accepting of it and in entering into this cavity, I could not help but think of the other one below her skirts.

I needed her so much just then, but not being a brute (even if I could not resist, had no plan to then resist, simply taking her upon the road as the carriage bounced over every irregularity of the rough road), I had no plan to just push into her. No, I wanted her to long for me. Her mind might be unhappy with me, but I was determined that her body would not be, that it would understand that we were meant to be together.