A Different Impression Rewrite

We left Lady Catherine in London, with Lord and Lady Matlock trying to protect Anne and decide what on earth they should do about her mother. The last few days have brought one crisis after another, but Darcy and Elizabeth’s wedding is rapidly approaching—or perhaps more rapidly than anyone expected.

A quick reminder that the revised edition of A Different Impression is now available for pre-order. Amazon currently lists the release date as October 29, although I am still hoping for a late September release. I am also hoping to release the audiobook at the same time, which I am very excited about.

You may pre-order it here, should you desire to do so. Once released, it will also be available through Kindle Unlimited.

As always, I appreciate your comments and your help spotting anything that is unclear or inconsistent.

Now, on to today’s chapter, Married!

Darcy had allowed himself to believe that Wickham’s departure would bring an end to the troubles threatening his family. Richard had left early on Saturday to oversee Wickham’s journey towards the coast, and once that man was safely delivered into the custody of his new regiment, Darcy hoped never to hear his name again.

That hope lasted only until Monday morning, when an express arrived from Lord Matlock.

Darcy retired to Netherfield’s library to read his uncle’s letter in private. By the time he reached the final page, he had been forced to sit down, scarcely able to comprehend all his uncle had disclosed.

Lady Catherine had arrived in London with Anne in a dangerously weakened condition. The physician attending his cousin suspected that the tonic she had taken for years contained arsenic and had been the source of much, if not all, of her poor health. Worse still, Lord Matlock had begun investigating Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s will and discovered that Rosings should have passed into Anne’s control upon her twenty-fifth birthday. Lady Catherine had never possessed the authority she claimed over the estate.

The particulars concerning the solicitors, the trustees, and Lady Catherine’s interference were complicated, but Darcy understood enough to recognise the enormity of the situation. Anne had been deceived regarding her inheritance and might have been deliberately poisoned by her own mother. Although the physician had forbidden her to take any more of the tonic, years of exposure had left her so weakened that a complete recovery appeared unlikely.

With so much still uncertain, his uncle did not yet know whether he and Lady Matlock would be able to attend the wedding. He was understandably reluctant to leave Anne, but even more uneasy about entrusting Lady Catherine to the servants.

His uncle also sought Darcy’s opinion on how they might contain the scandal without bringing formal charges against Lady Catherine. Although Uncle James was far more experienced in politics and the management of public scandal, he wished to know Darcy’s thoughts before deciding how the family should proceed.

Darcy read the letter twice before folding it with unsteady hands. He could offer his uncle no answers—certainly not without first speaking to Elizabeth.

Almost as soon as he received it, Darcy was on his way to Longbourn, seeking Elizabeth’s advice and, though he scarcely wished to admit how greatly he needed it, her comfort.

As he drew near the house, he saw Elizabeth outside. The instant she caught sight of him, her welcoming smile disappeared. She hurried forward before he had even dismounted.

“My love, what is wrong?” she asked.

Darcy could not yet trust himself to answer. Elizabeth took his hand and led him into the garden, towards a bench hidden among the hedges. Once they were seated, he handed her his uncle’s letter and watched as she read. Her face gradually lost its colour.

“Is this the same Lady Catherine whom my cousin praised so highly?”

His throat tightened, and he could only nod. Elizabeth immediately wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head against her as she gently caressed his hair. Darcy clung to her, drawing what comfort he could from her warmth.

“Oh, love,” she whispered.

For several minutes, he allowed himself to remain in her embrace. Finally, he raised his head, although he continued to hold her tightly to himself.

“I need to return to London and determine how I may help my uncle.”

“I understand, William. I do.” Her expression faltered. “Do you think we shall need to delay the wedding until matters are settled?”

Darcy gazed at her. He had considered that very question throughout the ride from Netherfield, and the thought of postponing their marriage had been intolerable.

“We have the licence, the marriage articles have been signed, and there is nothing to prevent us from marrying.” He paused and drew a steadying breath. “We could marry today—or tomorrow morning, if you would prefer. As my wife, you could accompany me to London while I help my uncle resolve whatever has occurred with my aunt and cousin. I feel certain that either my uncle or I will be obliged to travel to Kent soon, particularly if Anne’s condition worsens.”

“We should speak to my father.” Elizabeth stood and took his hand, drawing him to his feet. “We can make it known that your cousin’s illness necessitated advancing the wedding, lest it later be postponed by your need to attend her—or by a period of mourning.”

Darcy disliked hearing the possibility expressed so plainly, but he could find no fault in her reasoning.

After they explained the circumstances to Mr Bennet, he sent a note asking whether the rector would be willing to perform the ceremony the following morning. Miss Bennet was summoned to the study so they might plan an abbreviated wedding breakfast while they waited for his reply.

Before long, the rector confirmed that he was available to perform the ceremony at the church the following morning. Notes were then prepared for a carefully selected number of families in the neighbourhood. Mr Bennet deliberately included several ladies known for sharing whatever news reached them, and Darcy readily endorsed the strategy. If the proper explanation circulated quickly enough, less flattering speculation might never gain credence.

“What should we do about Mama?” Elizabeth asked her sister once the arrangements were underway. “She was reluctant to assist with the wedding when we had another fortnight in which to prepare. She will be certain that something dreadful has occurred to cause us to marry tomorrow. I cannot imagine excluding her entirely, but I confess I am terrified of what she might say if she attends.”

“Papa has had Hill inform visitors that Mama has been unwell,” Miss Bennet answered. “Perhaps the same explanation may serve if she does not attend the wedding breakfast. She might attend the ceremony, especially since the number of guests will now be quite limited. The Netherfield party will be present, as will the Lucases and the Phillipses.”

Elizabeth winced slightly.

“I know Lady Lucas and Aunt Phillips are among the most enthusiastic gossips in the neighbourhood,” Miss Bennet continued, “but Papa could hardly exclude them. I fear Mama will express her displeasure quite freely if she attends the breakfast.”

“I cannot decide which would be worse,” Elizabeth admitted. “Offending Mama by excluding her or allowing her to offend William and everyone else who attends.”

Darcy wished he could relieve her concern, but he was no more certain of the proper course than she appeared to be.

“I think your father must make that decision, dearest,” he said, “as he will be the one obliged to endure the consequences after we depart.”

Mr Bennet, who had been occupied with the notes announcing the change, set down his pen. “A compelling argument for excluding her entirely, although I shall consider the matter while I see these dispatched.”

“And I shall speak with Hill about what can be prepared for the breakfast,” Miss Bennet said, rising. She gave Elizabeth’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before following her father from the room.

Once they were alone, Darcy took Elizabeth’s hands in his.

“Advancing our wedding also requires us to alter our plans.”

“Advancing our wedding also requires us to alter our plans. Georgiana and Kitty will need to accompany us to Darcy House, and we must delay our journey to Pemberley until Anne’s situation is more certain. Nor do I know whether we shall be able to attend Bingley’s ball. We may be required to travel to Kent, although I hope we might first withdraw from society for a few days and enjoy some measure of privacy before duty calls us elsewhere.” He kissed both her hands, troubled by how thoroughly the crisis had disrupted the wedding she had anticipated. “I promise I shall make it up to you.”

“Do not worry, William. It makes little difference to me where we go, so long as we are together. I am only grateful that I shall not have to remain behind while you face this crisis alone.”

She raised his hand and kissed his knuckles. The tender gesture banished the last of Darcy’s restraint, and he drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

“As much as I despise the circumstances, I confess I am nearly ecstatic that they have advanced our wedding,” he said when they finally parted. “Tomorrow, Elizabeth. Tomorrow we shall be man and wife. Tomorrow night, I shall not have to leave you at the door and return alone to Netherfield.”

The prospect sent a very different warmth through him. He smiled down at her.

“Tomorrow, Elizabeth,” he repeated, allowing some of his anticipation to enter his expression. “I am greatly looking forward to it, my love.”

Elizabeth awoke the following morning to bright sunlight streaming through her curtains. For one disoriented moment, she could not understand why Longbourn already seemed to be bustling around her. Then she remembered.

She was to marry William that morning.

Her mother would attend the ceremony under Mrs Higgins’s close supervision. Upon being informed of the changed date the previous evening, Mama had become nearly hysterical, shrieking about ruin, early babes, and all manner of nonsense—none of it complimentary towards either Elizabeth or William. Elizabeth had heard more than enough of it from her bedchamber.

Papa had nevertheless decided that Mama must attend the ceremony, lest her absence provide the neighbourhood with further cause for speculation. Mrs Higgins had assured Elizabeth that she would return her mother to Longbourn immediately afterwards and administer the draught prescribed for her if she became agitated again. Her wan appearance would, at least, lend credence to the explanation that she had been unwell.

Once Elizabeth was ready, she found her father waiting for her in the hallway. His gaze lingered upon her, and his expression grew unusually tender.

“You look very well, Lizzy,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Your Mr Darcy is a fortunate man.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth blinked rapidly, determined not to surrender to her tears.

“I shall miss having you at Longbourn.” His customary smile returned, although it appeared more subdued than usual. “There are very few people with whom I can converse for more than five minutes without longing for the solitude of my book room.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “I shall miss you too, Papa.”

He offered her his arm. Once she had placed her hand upon it, he covered it with his own, his familiar teasing smile softened by affection.

“After five daughters, I am finally to gain a son—and one whose conversation I expect to enjoy nearly as much as yours. I may even forgive him for taking you from me.”

They both laughed lightly, and then together, they made their way towards the waiting carriage.

The rest of the family had already gathered at the church. Mary and Kitty kissed Elizabeth’s cheek before going inside, while Jane, who was to act as her attendant, remained with her at the church door. When the rector signalled that all was ready, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and placed her hand upon Papa’s arm. Together, they entered the church, with Jane following closely behind.

As Elizabeth walked up the aisle, she was scarcely aware of the assembled guests. The moment she saw William waiting at the altar, the rest of the church faded from her notice, and she could not look away.

William looked as nervous as she felt, but the instant he saw her, his expression changed. He appeared ready to come to her, and Mr Bingley caught his arm, restraining him with an amused grin. As soon as Elizabeth was near enough, William reached for her. She immediately released her father’s arm and clasped William’s hand, drawing quiet laughter from those gathered around them.

The ceremony passed in a blur. Elizabeth must have given the expected answers, for soon the rector declared them husband and wife. They signed the register and walked outside to accept the congratulations of their guests, although Elizabeth could scarcely have said who spoke to her or what was said.

Finally, she and William entered the carriage and were blessedly alone, if only for the brief journey to Longbourn. William appeared no more concerned than she was about who might see them. Almost as soon as the door closed, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. They remained entwined until a footman knocked several times, alerting them that they had arrived.

The wedding breakfast passed in much the same blur as the ceremony. Elizabeth remained at William’s side, speaking to the mercifully small number of guests while longing for the moment when they might depart. Nevertheless, she was mindful of the need to explain their hastened wedding and took care to mention his cousin’s illness whenever the subject arose.

At last, they were free to leave. Elizabeth then discovered that William had arranged for two carriages to depart from Longbourn. She and William would travel in one, while Georgiana, Kitty, and Mrs Annesley occupied the other. A hired carriage had already set out for London with Georgiana’s maid, William’s valet, and most of their luggage.

“Two carriages?” Elizabeth asked as William handed her into theirs. “That seems rather extravagant, even for you.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, climbing in after her. “But I have no intention of sharing a carriage with chaperones on my wedding day.”

The door closed behind him, leaving them alone for the four-hour journey to London.

Elizabeth smiled as her husband immediately reached for her.

Perhaps the second carriage had not been entirely unnecessary after all.

Despite everything Lady Catherine has managed to set in motion, ODC are finally married! I rather enjoyed giving them a wedding that happened so quickly no one had time to create another objection or disaster.

Of course, they are travelling directly towards another family crisis, so this will not be the most conventional of wedding journeys. Darcy did, at least, make certain that he would have four uninterrupted hours alone with his new wife. I cannot blame him for deciding that two carriages were entirely necessary!

I will also admit that I had a lot of fun writing these particular lines ❤️

What did y’all think about their decision to advance the wedding? Did the small ceremony suit them? And was Darcy’s second carriage romantic, extravagant, or a little of both?

— Melissa Anne 💙

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