Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was inevitable that we should have to float down to earth again at some point, and it was Fitzwilliam who first suggested we leave our heavenly sanctuary. I frowned petulantly at his reason, wishing to remain in our world without care. After the tumult of emotion I had experienced over the past week, I was loath to leave the feeling of peace and security I found in my intended’s arms. He was the source of so much contentment for me, and both of our bruised hearts needed the balm of the other’s love, so freely given once we reached our understanding. For the first time in many weeks, we were both seeing clearly and without hindrance the future before us. And it was a glorious riot of passionate colour, vivid with love and clarity of heart.
He had pulled me to reluctantly stand, moving me with gentle chuckles towards a mirror placed along the wall. When I caught sight of myself, I gasped and turned to him with pinked cheeks and mock outrage.
“You look quite lovely to me, though I beg you to restore the pins or I shall find myself in trouble with your father.”
“And well deserved it would be. Just look at this mess!” I began pulling any remaining pins out of my hair and placing them along a shelf as I determined there was no fixing it without starting over again. The movements were familiar, and I was, for a moment, caught up in the process of this daily routine. At one point my eyes joined with Fitzwilliam’s in the mirror and it stopped me.
How had I ever mistaken that stare as disapproval? I was warmed all over, and I turned, wishing to enter his embrace again, his look a siren song to me. His hands stretched out to hold me back so his eyes could drink their fill of my hair, now laying in curled tassels about my shoulders.
“Elizabeth, your hair. It is magnificent.”
“It is an unruly mess, and I wish I had much less of it,” I said, embarrassed and blushing at his compliment.
He was shaking his head before I had even finished, his hands reaching to bury themselves in it. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled, coming away to look at me. “Never say such foolish things. Your hair is lovely and tempts me to forget I ever suggested we re-join our families.”
“I am amenable to that idea, sir.”
Fitzwilliam smirked at me and shook his head. With determined shoulders, he turned me once again to the mirror and took a careful step backwards. I watched his hands clasp each other as if to prevent themselves from reaching for me again.
I began once more to separate and place my hair into an elegant coiffure, pleased and a little self-conscious by the focused way he watched my progress. When I was finished, I turned to him and asked whether it met with his approval.
He sighed, placed my hand on his arm, and led me to the door. “It does not, for now that I have seen it down, I far prefer it that way. But it will satisfy your father, I hope.”
Joy, unfiltered and unhindered, allowed my limbs to move with him to re-join our families. I imagined it was the fuel that worked the muscles, filled my lungs full, and strained my cheeks with an effervescent smile to match my intended’s. There was not room enough even for a single rational thought, which is why I objected again as we neared the library’s exit, wishing to stay a little longer. He chuckled and lifted my hand to place a kiss. I saw he, too, wished to escape this obligation. Propriety, what a useless notion.
I much preferred passion and affection expressed with Fitzwilliam to the dull taste of society with others. My companion found this amusing, given how, between the two of us, it was usually I that sought out the society of others and not him.
Before we pushed through the door that would lead us out of our beloved library, he turned to me.
“I am risking another minute, surprised that your father has gifted me this much time with you, to ask you—nay, beg you—to pick a date for our wedding.”
Distracted by his mention of my father, I asked, “Did you request to speak to me privately?”
“I did not. I was too cowardly to face you. I had determined to give you the day, hoping that the news of my eyesight’s return had overset you, and to find you pleased with me again on the morrow. Your father spoke to you, and then you left the room. Shortly thereafter, he came up to me and told me where I might find you and said…”
His face gave away embarrassment and perhaps a little remorse. I lifted a brow at him, folding my arms across my body. He fumbled for words, looking worried.
“Let me venture to guess, my love. He encouraged you to bait the hook, or cast the line, or some other nonsense.”
By the looks of it, I guessed accurately. I was amused and shook my head, pleased my future husband did not take pleasure in potentially raising my ire.
With chagrin, he confessed, “He said, ‘tis time to reel her in, my boy’. However, it mattered little how he said it, I was desperate for a chance to speak to you, and with no delay took the opportunity he presented. I had not expected to find you in tears though.”
I released my arms and placed them again on his. “That is all behind us. I have no objection to any date you think right for our wedding. If you recall, it was you who had opinions on that matter before.”
“My choice would be to marry tomorrow, but I fear your mother will not think kindly on that. If we allow for the banns to be read this Sunday for the first time, that would make the earliest we could marry without a special licence to be—”
“Christmas.”
“I cannot think of a better gift than to have you as my wife, Elizabeth, but tell me truly, would you wish to marry after the holiday, a week later?”
“Or earlier? You mentioned the possibility of a special licence… No, I am teasing, though it is a tempting thought. Let us marry just after Christmas. The festive season has always been my favourite, and now I shall have more reason for it.”
He lifted my hand to his lips and thanked me with sincerity. “Two days after Christmas, then.”
I blushed, wishing to distract myself from his heated gaze, and said, “Jane will be pleased. She and I had always wanted to have a double wedding, if possible. Charles and she have been waiting for us to set a date.”
“My poor friend. I shall have to apologise for making him wait.”
“Come, Mr Darcy, although I am loath to admit where I am wrong and you are right, we really must re-join our families.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, for the gift of your hand, your love, and for seeing me through this.”
“I love you.”
He returned the sentiment with a soft kiss upon my lips. I floated upon the sensation of it all the way to the parlour.
It did not take long for my father to notice the difference in my demeanour, and he came quickly to us. I admit, I laughed at the look upon my love’s face when my father made some humorous enquiry about fishing success. He had looked to me, caught between replying to my father and displeasing his future wife. I squeezed his arm and instead surprised my father with a gentle rebuke. He laughed to learn I was informed of their disguised code of communication.
“Mr Darcy has caught me in his net, Papa. And your days of teasing are over in that quarter.”
We soon communicated our wish to marry at Christmas, and once Charles and Jane were summoned to our small party in the corner of the room and informed, it took little effort to get their eager approval of the plan. Therefore, it was the work of but a moment to announce it to the rest of our relations. The remainder of our visit was spent accepting heartfelt congratulations and well wishes.
Whenever I looked upon my future husband, I was stunned by his handsome, noble features, but it was his hesitant, shy attempts to assuage my mother’s concerns about how fresh flowers might be had in winter that filled my breast to overflowing with love.
“At Pemberley, we often decorate with pine boughs and berries at this time of year. I think it a festive alternative, and I am certain your admirable talent in this area would make it elegant.”
Georgiana distracted me then with her warm embrace. She had always been pleased at the idea of me as her sister, and even though Fitzwilliam and I had already been engaged a month, it seemed that selecting a date had made the young girl sentimental with the anticipated reality of it.
“I might remind you, dearest Georgiana, you are gaining five sisters. I hope that prospect does not diminish the joy you feel in the one you expected.”
The realisation given with my words filled her eyes with pleasure, and she embraced me with a quick hug, withdrawing after a little while with shy embarrassment at her impetuous action. I pulled her again into my arms, whispering into her ear that she would have no rebuke from me, for we were a demonstrative lot of sisters.
Over her shoulder, I caught the eye of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and rolled my eyes at his smirk. He joined us and lifted my hand to bow over.
“Elizabeth, I am as pleased for my cousin as I am for you.”
Georgiana excused herself and tentatively began a conversation with Mary. I smiled at her efforts to know her other new sisters better and turned a raised brow to my new cousin.
“I am certain you are not the sort of gentleman to gloat when he is proven correct, and so I have no fear in telling you that I was wrong. When we first met, you claimed I was mistaken in my estimation of your cousin’s admiration for me. I did not believe you when you said Fitzwilliam found me tempting, but to my luck and pleasure, I find he does.”
“On the contrary. I am very much that type of gentleman and shall gloat tremendously—and for far longer than you will have patience for.”
I laughed, shaking my head at the ridiculous man. When we both quieted our amusement, I looked at him and a surge of familial tenderness swelled within me. From the beginning, I had been disconcerted by the strange way Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to read me and wished to discredit the brotherly connexion I felt for him. He was irritating, disquieting, challenging, and loyal. Just as I had always hoped a brother might be, had I ever been blessed with one.
“You have been patient with me as I learned to see him with clear eyes, and although I think at times that I deserved a firm shaking for my stubbornness, you remained kind. I thank you for that.”
I sensed he was pleased with my compliment, though a little uncomfortable with the emotion it engendered.
With a gruffness in his tone, he replied, “Darcy, although only my cousin, is nearer a sibling to me than my own rapscallion relations. I hope you will always know that you have my affection as a dear sister.”
“I imagine I have little choice but to accept such a gift as I have no brother of my own. At least until Jane marries.”
“I shall not tell Bingley I am your favourite, then.”
I laughed again, gently pushing his arm. My laughter drew my intended to us, and he frowned at the ease between his cousin and me. It did not take me long to see a little jealousy in his eyes, and I wished to ease his concerns. Our love was so newly realised, it was easy to feel a little insecure in it.
“Your cousin was just telling me that he plans to be an annoying brother to me rather than a well-behaved cousin. And I was just letting him know it was not possible for him to be more irritating than he already was.”
As expected, the two gentlemen laughed uninhibitedly. My betrothed secured my hand at his arm, squeezing it to tell me he appreciated my reassurance.
“I believe you will find Elizabeth far too clever for you, Cousin.”
“Perhaps you are right, but I shall have great pleasure in testing that theory,” the colonel replied without skipping a beat. “Maybe now, Elizabeth, you might consent to call me Richard.”
I had no more reservations for such a request. He had been calling me by my Christian name without permission since the onset of our acquaintance, yet I had not returned that familiarity. It was a concession I had not been ready to make before feeling comfortable calling my intended by his given name, and shortly thereafter, I had suspected the colonel of grievous intentions and could not allow it. I now realised that it would be more bothersome to him if I did not, and I decided then to never call him by his given name, at least to his face.
“I could not possibly, Colonel!” I cried, in feigned horror.
He saw through my act and simply shook his head, amused at me. “She may be far too clever for even you, Darcy. I fear you she will lead you on a merry chase.”
“And I shall enjoy catching her,” Fitzwilliam replied, with a raised brow.
I bit my lip, a fruitless attempt to keep my composure, and ended up bubbling up with laughter at my betrothed’s audacious reference to the loathed fishing metaphor. My delight was compounded by the colonel’s confused expression.
I released his arm, looking coquettishly at my future husband, and said, before walking away, “You are mistaken, sir, in believing it is me who is caught. Perhaps it is you who is on the line.”
I heard Fitzwilliam’s baritone laugh and looked over my shoulder in time to see him pat his muddled cousin on the shoulder in farewell, then walk after me, mumbling about being well and truly caught.