Only the Deepest Love

Sofie

Posted on Wednesday, 22 June 2005, at 10:26 a.m.

Lizzy wiped away a tear. She knew it was customary to cry at weddings, but she never thought she would be crying at her own. She realised now that when her father had said, "From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents . . ." she had misheard him. She was currently standing at the altar with the horridest man of her acquaintance, and her father was in his study, staring into the fire while he tossed back glass after glass of brandy. So, not only had she had to put up with her mother fluttering and twittering about her for a full two months as all the wedding preparations were made, she had completely alienated her dear papa. Life was so unfair.

The parson was smiling paternally down upon her and reciting with utmost eloquence upon the delights of holy matrimony. She felt her throat constrict as she realised there was little hope for escape. All about her were smiling faces that looked approvingly upon her and the man by her side. The man she steadfastly refused to even look at. Oh, there were one or two titters from behind as well, but she could recognise Lydia and Kitty's giggling anywhere. She knew she would get no help from that quarter. And Jane - her most trusted friend and confidant - even Jane was no earthly assistance.

"He may not be so very bad, dearest," she had said. "He is a parson, after all, and he will treat you with kindness and consideration."

"Oh yes. He exercises such consideration! He insists upon marrying me when he knows I care nothing for him. That the sight of his visage turns my stomach. How can he possibly want a wife who is repulsed by the very thought of him?"

"Lizzy! I do think you are exaggerating now. Certainly he is not as handsome as Mr Bingley," here Jane's face took on a sickly sweet glow, "or even Mr Darcy. But there is a certain gentleness to his countenance that is appealing."

"You mean that vacant look he gets when he is extolling Lady Catherine's virtues and listing her possessions?"

"And you must admit that he is marrying you for the most noble of reasons. And I am certain that he loves you too - after all, who could not love you? And I am also certain, with time, you will learn to love him."

"Jane, Jane," Lizzy said, between laughter and tears. "Only you could believe such an impossibility."

"I am not the only one who believes your marriage will be a success. Mama . . ."

"Mama is just glad to be saved from the hedgerows."

"Charlotte . . ."

"Yes. Charlotte believes I acted with much prudence. But I didn't. I regret ever agreeing to marry my odious cousin. You know that I always vowed to only marry for the deepest love. I never once mentioned marrying for the deepest loathing! Oh, how did this ever come about?"

Lizzy returned her mind reluctantly to the present as the parson beamed at her and then turned his attention to the entire congregation. "Any man who knows of an impediment to this marriage should speak now or forever hold his peace."

Lizzy's heart leapt in her bosom. She looked at the parson, parted her lips, and whispered, "May I say something that could rectify the situation?"

"My dearest Elizabeth," intoned her groom solemnly, "do not interrupt the service."

The parson gave them both a reproving glance for speaking out of turn and then resumed scanning the audience. The look on his face reflected that of an auctioneer. Lizzy could almost hear him saying: 'Going once, going twice - sold to Mr Collins for all eternity.'

Just then rushing footsteps could be heard coming up to the church entrance and the doors burst open with a bang. Mr Darcy stood silhouetted against the glaring sunlight, looking like an avenging angel. Or so it seemed to Lizzy. Her heart jumped in her chest. What could he possibly have to say? That he would not have someone as intolerable as her connected to him in any way, be it only through marriage to his aunt's parson?

"This marriage cannot take place!" he cried as soon as he had caught his breath. "The lady is already engaged to be married to me."

A loud gasp came from the entire congregation. Mr Collins grasped Lizzy by the hand and looked at her beseechingly. "Please say it isn't so. Lady Catherine will be most seriously displeased with this turn of events."

Simultaneously, Mrs Bennet screeched, "Lizzy! Why did you never tell me of this? To think - engaged all this time to Mr Darcy! Naughty puss! Ten thousand a year!!!! Oh, step down, Mr Collins. Do step down and let Mr Darcy take your place."

Lizzy was frozen where she stood. Mr Darcy engaged to her? What parallel universe had he been living in? Nothing would ever have induced her to make such a vow - he was the last man on earth she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. She hated him for all that he had done to poor Wickham, and the officious way he had separated her sister from Bingley. But she had at least to give him credit for a timely arrival.

The parson stood stuttering before the altar. "This is most irregular. I mean - I am supposed to ask if there is an impediment to marriage, but no one is really expected to come up with one. It's more rhetorical than anything else."

Darcy strode forward, ignoring him completely. He stopped before Mr Collins and gave him a supercilious glare. "I demand satisfaction."

Mr Collins cringed. The parson ineffectually attempted to usher both gentlemen into the vestry. Lizzy wondered what sort of satisfaction Collins could give Mr Darcy. She thought maybe the demand would have been better directed at herself. After all, it was her wedding day and she was being completely ignored.

Mrs Bennet was not to be outdone by Mr Darcy, however. She rushed up to Mr Collins and pushed him aside. "Never mind my husband's insignificant cousin, Mr Darcy. He can marry Charlotte Lucas for all I care. You just step in his place and satisfaction will be yours. Mr Collins, the ring - Mr Darcy has need of it!"

"Mama!" cried Lizzy. "I refuse to marry either of these gentlemen. I am already engaged to Mr . . . Wickham!"

There was a scuffle in the back of the church as a certain gentleman in a red coat tried to exit unseen, but was dragged forward by Colonel Forster and Sir William Lucas.

"Ooh! This is better than when we dressed Chamberlain as a woman!" cried Lydia, gasping for breath she was laughing so hard.

All the colour drained from Darcy's face. "Is this true, Elizabeth?" he asked in a shaking voice.

"As true as your announcement about our engagement," she hissed in a stage whisper.

Unaccountably this admission seemed to calm Mr Darcy. In fact he even smiled - a sardonic, superior sort of smile. "Then I suggest we invite the gentleman to corroborate your statement. If it is indeed true then I will naturally accede to the prior engagement. I will even stand in as groomsman for him."

Wickham, his face red with fear at the thought of being forced into a marriage where there was to be no fortune to be gained, whispered his own aside to Mr Darcy. "Are you putting any money on her? I'll do it for ten thousand, no less."

"I think not," said Darcy with a chuckle. "Maybe if you had sullied the reputation of one of her sisters I would have paid you to marry the chit, but in this case it would hardly be to my advantage, would it?"

Lizzy looked on in horror - she had missed no part of the exchange. She was already a bit miffed at Wickham's apparent reluctance to come to her rescue, but his asking for money from Darcy was outside of enough. She glared at him and announced. "Mr Wickham, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!" Darcy was immediately bumped to the last man on earth but one, and possibly but two, the more she compared the prospect of marriage to him against the prospect of marriage to Collins. "In fact, I'm almost tempted to believe that you have been filling my head with untruths."

Wickham tried to regain face by saying, "Your most obedient servant, ma'am," and bowing himself down the aisle and out the church doors. The effect was somewhat spoiled when Kitty stuck out her foot and he tripped and landed upon his posterior, his legs flailing in the air.

Darcy took Elizabeth aside, in an alcove by the font, and asked her, "Is there any other person that you may have promised yourself to who I should know about before we go ahead with this thing?"

"I can't imagine why you have invented our engagement and are persisting with the idea of marrying me," said Elizabeth.

"Do not tell me you were not pleased to be saved from a life sentence with that parsimonious clergyman," said Darcy.

"No indeed. I thank you for that, sir."

"And you must admit that Wickham didn't come up to scratch."

"I am inclined to believe that my first impressions of him were at fault."

"I'll forgive you that bit of imperceptivity."

"You are most kind," said Lizzy with heavy sarcasm. "But though you have been somewhat redeemed in my eyes I still cannot like you."

"You cannot like me?" he asked in astonishment. "What's not to like? I'm handsome. I'm rich. I have young ladies continually falling all over themselves to gain my notice. Why, you must have been aware of the lengths Miss Bingley was always going to gain my attention. Admiring my quillmanship. Impromptu walks with you in the parlour. Deriding the accomplishments of other young ladies. A trifle tedious, but diverting nonetheless."

Lizzy quickly realised she had misjudged Mr Darcy yet again. His greatest fault was not his pride, but his conceit. "I could never marry you after the cruel way that you separated my sister Jane and your friend."

"Is that all that stands in my way? Well, there is really no reason for me to be kinder to Bingley than I have been to myself, is there? He might as well throw himself away upon your sister. Besides, who is to say that he might not fall for an even less acceptable young lady further down the line? The more I think about it, the better it sounds, in fact. I will send an express to him directly, advising him to marry your sister at the earliest opportunity." Darcy called an altar boy over and requested writing materials, which were brought to him immediately.

Lizzy stood beside him and looked over his shoulder as he wrote. Not only did he formulate sentences with great skill and spell impeccably, but his cursive script was the most handsome she had ever the good fortune to see. It seems Caroline was right about one thing - and if so, was it possible she was right about others? Could there be more to Mr Darcy than Lizzy had previously supposed?

"This is all very well," said Lizzy as the express was sent off, "but how do we know that Mr Bingley will just do as you say?"

"He always does as I say," said Mr Darcy smugly.

"What a good sort of friend to have," said Lizzy. She could not help but grudgingly admire Mr Darcy for his ability to instil such loyalty in his friends.

"So, shall we get on with it then?" asked Mr Darcy. "Your mother is about to have an apoplexy."

"But, I always vowed that only the deepest of love would induce me into matrimony." Lizzy was grasping at straws now.

"And so it will," said Darcy, a tender look entering his eyes. "My love for you is deeper than a bottomless pit. If that's not an inducement, what is?"

Lizzy had to concede his point. "Can I send word to my father, then? Now that I'm not marrying Mr Collins there's no reason for him not to give me away."

Mr Darcy took this statement as a yes. A look of heart-felt delight diffused his face and he expressed himself as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. (To all those uninitiated in regency cant, that means that he kissed her.) The kiss made Lizzy aware that it may indeed be possible to learn to love the man. In fact she was quite looking forward to the lessons.

It was a slightly intoxicated, but very relieved Mr Bennet who gave his favourite daughter away that day, as his wife lay prostrate upon the front pew of the church, alternating between fanning herself and taking deep sniffs from her smelling salts.

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