Chapter 13 #3
“You will be an excellent sister, Georgiana,” Elizabeth proclaimed, then nodded at Aunt Gardiner and Jane. “Do not allow them to put feathers in my hair. No feathers!”
The women laughed, including Aunt Matlock. Georgiana watched them all for a moment before breaking into a gentle laugh herself.
“Very well, Elizabeth,” she replied. “I shall be your protector.”
“Come, my dears,” Aunt Matlock said, holding out her hand. “It is time.”
Later, when the all the ladies but Jane had removed downstairs, Elizabeth gazed at herself as she stood before the glass. She heard a quiet sigh behind her.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “You are beautiful.”
Elizabeth turned one way and then the other, admiring how the silk made the lace overlay appear to shine in the light. “It is Aunt Gardiner’s gown, but I am so grateful to have it. It is quite the loveliest thing I have ever worn.” She turned to her sister.
“Jane,” she said quietly. “Will you not tell me what happened at home after I left?”
Her sister’s expression was pained. “I believe you know most of it, do you not? Papa invented a story. Mama was annoyed with you for leaving so abruptly when she had a list of purchases for you to make in town. Lydia was angry that she was being blamed for your bonnet, but perhaps it was a good lesson for her. Her reputation for honesty has not been a good one, and she is seeing the consequences. Kitty and Mary believed Papa and are carrying on as always.”
“And Mr. Bingley?” Elizabeth asked quietly. “I am so very sorry, Jane. I did not know what he was, or I would never have encouraged you.”
Jane blinked. “Mr. Bingley?” She shook her head and took Elizabeth’s hand.
“While we were waiting for our carriage at end of the ball, he said things about you I did not like. And after what Papa told me . . . Well, I have not thought about Mr. Bingley since. Oh Lizzy,” she said with a sigh. “No. All my thoughts were for you.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand and released it. “Had you truly been in love with him, you would have desired his presence to aid you through such a trial. You would have missed him.” She did not how she would have survived had Jane been the one who vanished.
Jane tipped her head to one side. “You must be correct.”
Elizabeth lifted her nose in the air. “I very often am, you know.”
“Is this truly what you wish to discuss on the day of your wedding?” Jane gave Elizabeth a mischievous look.
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “So long as you are uninjured, let us speak of other things.”
“Such as the way your betrothed smiles at you?” Jane’s own smile was radiant. “I was so frightened for you, Lizzy, when all along you have been falling in love.”
“Well,” Elizabeth replied, “it did not happen precisely like that. First I . . .”
“Threw his own dish at him. Yes, I know,” Jane teased.
“He told you that?” Elizabeth was surprised, but Jane nodded. “I was so confused. I woke up in a dark room, and he was there. I did not think, I just . . . reacted. But he was so kind about it, Jane. It quite unarmed me.”
“And then you fell in love,” Jane added, almost singing the words.
Elizabeth glanced away and nodded. “And then I fell in love.” She twirled before the glass, taking pleasure in the way the skirt and lace moved together. “Did the colonel tell you how I held them off with a fork?”
Jane burst into an astonished laugh. “No, he neglected to relay that part of the story.”
“Well,” Elizabeth conceded, “It did not hold Colonel Fitzwilliam off for long.”
“He is a colonel, Lizzy,” Jane admonished her gaily.
Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know what to expect from him. He has been very distant. Until Mr. Darcy asked me to marry him, that is. He is amiable enough now.”
“He was quite the gentleman when we met him at Lucas Lodge,” Jane said. “Perhaps the problem was you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, Jane, how I have missed you!”
Jane threw her arms around Elizabeth. “I have missed you, too, Lizzy.” She stepped back and smoothed her hands along Elizabeth’s skirt, and frowned. “Oh dear. I have wrinkled you.”
“I do not care,” Elizabeth proclaimed, just as her Aunt Gardiner entered the room.
“I shall see you downstairs,” Jane whispered in her ear as she hurried away.
“Aunt?” Elizabeth asked, surprised at Jane’s sudden exit. “Is something amiss?”
“Not at all, my dear,” Aunt Gardiner replied. “I simply thought you might wish to discuss what happens after the wedding.”
Elizabeth blushed, but teased her aunt anyway. “We gather for a meal in an earl’s grand home?”
“Elizabeth,” her aunt said. Her exasperation was good-natured, but it was exasperation. She reached out to touch Elizabeth’s dress. “I knew this would be perfect on you.” She motioned to two chairs set near the fire. “Shall we sit?”
When they were settled, Aunt Gardiner began. “What do you know about marital relations, Lizzy?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth before admitting, “Only what I have read in the books Papa did not want me to see.”
Her aunt rolled her eyes and sighed. “Elizabeth Bennet.”
“In my defense, aunt, he did not lock the case.” Elizabeth tried to appear innocent.
“Which you took as permission?” her aunt inquired.
Elizabeth barely met her aunt’s eye. “Yes?”
“Never mind,” Aunt Gardiner said, resigned. “It will make our little talk easier. You know that there will be some pain, the first time?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“And you are aware of the mechanics of the act?”
“Yes, although I presume it will be different in practice.”
Aunt Gardiner smiled. “Your husband will show you.” She perched on the edge of the chair.
“Now, when the time comes, you may think it is impossible for his part to fit into yours. Do not be anxious. Your body was made to accommodate his.” She reached forward to pat Elizabeth on the hand.
“Mr. Darcy appears to be very much in love, Lizzy, and for men, the physical part of your relationship is an essential part of how you show him your love.”
“Is it only men? Is it wrong for me to anticipate that part of our marriage?” Elizabeth asked, embarrassed.
“Of course not! When two people love one another, the marriage bed can be wonderful for both,” Aunt Gardiner fell quiet.
“I think the best advice I can give you,” she said at last, “is to be patient with yourself and with him. And that when you two are alone in bed—Lizzy, that is not the time to tease him. You often use humor when you are overwhelmed for good or ill, but if you tease or laugh at the wrong time, even if your laughter comes from anxiety, you may hurt his feelings.”
Elizabeth was dismayed. “Would it really? I would never wish to do that.”
Her aunt nodded. “That is not to say that humor has no part in your . . . activities. But you are marrying very quickly. Until you know one another better, allow him to take the lead.”
This was not something Elizabeth would ever have considered. Aunt Gardiner had likely saved her from a dreadful mistake. “I am so grateful, Aunt,” Elizabeth said warmly. “I will certainly follow your advice.”
They stood, and Aunt Gardiner kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “You will make Mr. Darcy a wonderful wife, Lizzy,” she said affectionately.
There was a knock, and Jane appeared in the doorway. “The countess says that the carriages have arrived.”
Elizabeth’s excitement soared. It was time.
Darcy tugged at the hem of his glove as he waited near the altar of St. George’s. The building was drafty, and he hoped Elizabeth had dressed warmly. At least the ceremony would not take above half an hour.
Aunt Matlock had enjoyed using her status as a countess to persuade the church to make room for her nephew’s nuptials.
As the largest church in Mayfair, St. George’s was also responsible for the most marriages—over a thousand a year.
It was a busy place—there were three other weddings scheduled this morning. The vicar would not dally.
A young couple had just finished signing the register and departed with their families.
Almost the moment they stepped out the side door, he and Fitz were joined before the altar by Miss Bennet.
Mr. Gardiner and the earl stood to hand the other women in their party up the step and into the pews.
Henry was not inside, but then, he was not reliable.
It would not surprise Darcy at all were Henry to miss the ceremony altogether and only appear for the breakfast afterward.
Henry might not be here, but activity near the back of the church told him that Elizabeth was.
Darcy stood a little taller. From the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Bennet offer him a tender smile.
Fitz shuffled his feet noisily, but all of Darcy’s attention was now focused on the spot where his bride stood with her father.
Darcy remembered how beautiful Elizabeth had been at the Netherfield ball, the last time he had seen her so formally attired.
He had known that night that he would have to leave Hertfordshire if he did not plan to offer for her, for his heart was in danger.
But now his heart was safe in her keeping.
Elizabeth was attired in a beautiful gown, but all he could think of was how well she appeared in it and how this evening he would be allowed to see her out of it. He stared as she approached, unmoving until there was a small nudge at his back. Fitz was standing beside him.
“Church, Darcy,” his cousin hissed in his ear. “You are in a church.”
He blinked. Right.
Mr. Bennet smirked, but Elizabeth returned Darcy’s look with a bashful one of her own that did not help him to focus upon the ceremony.
As expected, they proceeded without delay.
By the end, he barely recalled the words other than a few scattered phrases.
Elizabeth, promising to love, cherish, and obey him, the last to which she would undoubtedly append “when he is correct.” Sliding his grandmother’s ring on her finger and repeating, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He remembered kneeling, but the next phrase that really made its way into his consciousness was “let every one of you in particular so love his wife, even as himself.” He had sent up a little prayer of his own that he would deserve her love in the same way, for if Elizabeth respected him, loved him, he would truly be a wealthy man.
Then they were at the register and he signed his name. He was pleased to see that his hand was steady and his signature clear.
As Elizabeth signed herself as a Bennet for the last time, Darcy heard the heavy footsteps of someone in great haste drawing closer. As his wife completed her task and her sister picked up the pen, Darcy turned to see Fitz stepping forward to position himself between the intruder and the women.
Their surprise guest ought not to have been much of a surprise at all. Darcy glowered at his uncle, who grumbled something under his breath and had the good grace to look abashed. The man could not have waited another day to goad his sister?
For it was Lady Catherine de Bourgh stalking to the altar of St. George’s with the speed of Arion.
And Henry, blast him, was right behind her.