The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I n the small hours of the morning, once all the guests had gone, the Romsleys, their sons, Frederick Darcy and his family, Darcy, Bingley, and the Gardiners and their nieces sat together to discuss the evening and have a final drink before going their separate ways. The ball had continued after the scene caused by Lady Catherine, whom Lord Romsley had ordered to return to Kent and remain there, not contacting any of them, until she was prepared to humbly beg their pardon.

“I said I might also demand she take out a notice in all the newspapers to publicly apologise to everyone who was here,” the earl said.

“Oh, it is all my fault,” the countess cried, her features crumpled together and chin lowered. Asked to explain, she continued. “I always invite Catherine and Anne. They are family, after all, but I never expect them to come. Catherine always declines. Every year, I receive a letter within three or four days of sending the invitation. Thinking of it now, I do not believe one came this year—but neither did I receive word that they would attend. I certainly would have remembered that . Why would she not tell us she was coming to town? Where was she intending to stay?”

“With us, I imagine, never stopping to think of the inconvenience of two unexpected guests—and the multitude of servants she requires—arriving the same night as the ball,” the earl said.

“You are not to blame, Aunt,” Darcy said, his sentiment repeated by many others. “The only person who should regret their behaviour is Lady Catherine.”

“And she is the one who is least likely to,” Fitzwilliam added.

Darcy had no intention of forgiving her, even if she saw fit to apologise, not after the way she had spoken to Elizabeth. Besides, knowing his aunt, even if she did eventually express words of contrition, they would be perfunctory, like those he had said to Elizabeth in the churchyard in October, and he did not believe she would ever be capable of understanding why it was not good enough.

Elizabeth. His betrothed. It would take days before he stopped feeling as though he was living in a dream. Already he was making plans to go to Meryton to speak to Mr Bennet; before that, he had to tell Georgiana. She would be overjoyed and possibly beg to go with him to Longbourn, if only so that she did not miss anything more; as it was, she would be bitterly disappointed not to have witnessed his proposal when so many others had. She would probably think he was joking when he described the scene; in truth, he could not believe how he had acted.

Which is another good reason to go to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. That way, he could hide from the inevitable gossip about Lady Catherine’s appearance, her many demands and insults, and that he had—in front of dozens of people—admitted his love for Elizabeth and asked her to marry him. Was there a way he could avoid London for the next year or two? He must also speak to Mr Bennet before word of the night’s events made its way to the countryside, as it surely would. It was a diverting tale—if you were not one of the principal actors, however inadvertently.

The countess said that she appreciated their kind words but still felt terrible about what had transpired.

Elizabeth gave a quiet laugh. “Please do not worry on my part. No harm was done, and I believe we can always learn from occasions such as this.”

“What valuable lesson could there be in Lady Catherine’s display of…ugliness? Audacity, tactlessness—” Fitzwilliam said, until the earl calmly interjected, saying, “That is enough.”

His darling Elizabeth turned to Darcy, her smile widening. “I am not sure yet, but I shall let you know when I sort it out,” she said. “Perhaps I shall thank her for encouraging Mr Darcy to propose. That must have been her intention, even if she did not realise it.”

Her light-hearted response earned several laughs, with Rebecca adding, “Bramwell too. He might have waited another half a year otherwise.”

“I would have ordered him to do it before spring or leave the house until he came to his senses,” Lady Romsley said.

Bramwell turned red and protested he would not have waited much longer, and Frederick Darcy was quick to remind him, “You still have to ask my permission to marry her, young man. I have several very important questions for you.” He spoke sternly, even peered at Bramwell through narrowed eyes.

“My father might give you a similar look,” Elizabeth whispered to Darcy. She leant close to him, and her warm breath on his skin sent a shiver through him. “He would be no more serious though. He has been strongly hinting that he expected this outcome.”

“I plan to speak to him as soon as possible. In two or three days, I hope. I cannot wait to make arrangements for our wedding and removal to Derbyshire.”

She lay her hand over his. “I cannot wait to see Pemberley, about which you have told me so much, settle into our home, and be yours.”

The notion of that being his future, of it being just a few months away, made Darcy’s heart skip a beat. How different his life would be! He knew many married couples who lived largely separate lives, hardly even seeing each other at meals. He had often assumed that was how his marriage would be, and it might have been, had he chosen a bride based on her connexions and dowry.

“What a vile woman my sister is.” Lord Romsley made an angry noise and shook his head. “But, as Miss Elizabeth said, we should consider the good that came from her display of madness. I shall soon gain a daughter-in-law in recompense.”

“A niece-in-law too,” Fitzwilliam said.

“Do you know, I cannot recollect whether I have offered my congratulations to the four of you yet. Have I?” Lord Romsley asked.

Bingley gave an awkward laugh and half-raised his hand. “If people are going to start offering congratulations, perhaps you can do it for six rather than four?”

Darcy was not alone in gaping at him. Elizabeth was the first to speak, crying, “Jane, did he? Are you?”

Miss Bennet blushed and nodded.

“In all the confusion after Darcy and Lord Bramwell proposed to their ladies, I took Miss Bennet aside, and, well…” Bingley shrugged and scratched the back of his neck.

After this revelation, they all agreed that they needed to have one more final drink of the night so that they could properly toast the three engaged couples.

With a heavy sigh, Lady Romsley said, “I am glad we shall always have some happy memories to look back on when we think of the ball, but what a disaster! It will be the talk of the Season, likely for years to come. I do not know how I shall hold my head up. I believe that in the future we shall spend Twelfth Night in the country. I shall not risk doing anything other than staying at home on the fifth of January ever again.”

This year’s ball had been on the sixth since Twelfth Night was on a Sunday, but Darcy was not about to mention it .

He looked at Elizabeth, who smiled at him in return and said, “I think it was the most spectacular ball I have ever been fortunate enough to attend.”

“As do I,” Bramwell agreed, soon followed by Bingley and then their loved ones.