Chapter 35
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, Elizabeth stood in the small room beside the parish church while Jane adjusted the fall of her veil for the third time.
“It was straight before,” Elizabeth said.
“It is straight now.”
“That suggests it was not straight before.”
Jane smiled and stepped back. “You are determined to argue on your wedding day.”
“I see no reason to abandon a useful habit.”
Mrs. Bennet entered before Jane could answer.
She had crossed the churchyard twice, moved flowers no one thought misplaced, and informed Hill that the wedding breakfast would fail unless the cold meats appeared in the proper order.
Her attention moved from Elizabeth’s veil to the window and back again.
“Mr. Darcy has arrived, though why he must stand outside with Mr. Bingley when the church is open, I cannot say. Your father is pretending not to watch for him, which means he has looked through the vestry door at least four times. Lydia has promised not to laugh during the ceremony, but I do not trust her. Kitty has misplaced one glove, and Mary says the other will serve if she keeps her hands folded.”
“Then we are prepared,” Elizabeth said.
“Prepared?” Mrs. Bennet repeated. “My dear Lizzy, no family has ever endured such a morning. Jane’s wedding was nothing to this.”
Jane looked at Elizabeth. Mrs. Bennet had made the same claim before Jane married Bingley three weeks earlier.
That wedding had filled Longbourn with visitors, noise, and enough food to provision the militia.
Mrs. Bennet still spoke of it as though she had conducted a military campaign without support.
She found little time to regret Jane’s removal to Netherfield because the second wedding demanded her attention before the first breakfast dishes had left the table.
“You said Jane’s wedding surpassed every wedding in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth reminded her.
“It did, but this one has greater complications. Pemberley is involved.”
“Pemberley has not added to the complications.”
“Exactly. Mr. Darcy insists upon simplicity as though it arranges itself.”
Bennet entered without waiting for permission and looked at his wife. “My dear, Hill requires your judgment on a matter of grave importance.”
Mrs. Bennet pressed a hand to her breast. “What happened?”
“The cook placed the ham before the tongue.”
She hurried from the room.
Jane watched the door close. “Was that true?”
“No,” Bennet said. “But it will occupy her until someone discovers the ham is still at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth laughed, though the sound caught as Bennet turned toward her. He had dressed with more care than usual, and the effort made his familiar expression harder to bear.
“You look very well, Lizzy.”
“So do you.”
“Your mother said I look resigned.”
“You do not.”
“Then I failed to arrange my face.”
Jane came forward and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “I should join Charles before Mama sends someone to find me.”
“The man has smiled without interruption since breakfast. It is becoming a strain to observe,” Bennet said.
Jane left them together.
For a moment Bennet said nothing. The church bell marked the quarter hour, and voices moved beyond the wall as the last guests entered.
Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm. “You think this foolish?”
“No. That is the difficulty. I must admit you understood yourself better than I did.”
“You may retain the belief, although you will have fewer chances to tell me.”
“That is some consolation.”
His humor faded. “You will be far away.”
“Not beyond reach.”
“No. Mr. Darcy promised that, and I believe him. I find I believe him in a great many things I once expected to doubt.”
Elizabeth took his arm. “So do I.”
Bennet covered her hand with his. “Then we had better go before your mother finds the ham.”
The ceremony was brief. Darcy spoke his vows without hesitation, and Elizabeth answered him in a voice that carried through the church.
Jane stood beside her, while Bingley watched Darcy with satisfaction he made no effort to conceal.
Georgiana occupied the front pew with Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson.
Louisa and Hurst sat near Bingley, their presence quiet.
Caroline’s absence drew no comment, and Lady Catherine’s place was empty.
With the register signed and the party in the churchyard, Mary approached Elizabeth with the solemn expression she reserved for a difficult passage.
“I have considered whether first impressions deserve the blame we assign them,” she said.
Elizabeth waited.
Mary glanced toward Darcy as Mrs. Bennet congratulated him and Lydia questioned him about Derbyshire officers.
“I think the greater fault is refusing to revise them.”
“That sounds like a conclusion.”
“It is.” Mary’s expression softened. “I am pleased that both of you learned better.”
Elizabeth kissed her cheek. Mary accepted the gesture with surprise, then recovered enough to say that affection did not weaken the truth of her observation.
Kitty came next, wearing both gloves and a ribbon she had changed twice that morning.
Wickham’s name had vanished from her conversation.
A lieutenant from another company had asked her to dance at the last assembly, and she spent the week insisting that she felt no particular interest in him while mentioning each thing he said.
“You will write to me about Pemberley?” Kitty asked.
“I will.”
“And tell me whether the officers there are as handsome as ours?”
“There are no officers at Pemberley.”
Kitty considered this defect. “Perhaps there are neighboring families.”
“I shall investigate.”
“That is all I ask.”
Lydia pushed between them to demand the same promise, though she wanted descriptions of gowns, dinners, and any gentleman who owned more than one carriage. Mrs. Bennet called them away before Elizabeth could answer.
The wedding breakfast filled Longbourn beyond comfort.
Bingley and Jane sat together at one end of the table, married long enough for Mrs. Bennet to speak of their match as established family history.
She informed anyone who listened that Jane had always possessed the beauty required to secure Netherfield, while Elizabeth needed wit, courage, and several unusual accidents to secure Pemberley.
“Do not forget Sarah,” Lydia said.
“I have not forgotten that dog. No one in Hertfordshire could forget her.”
Sarah had spent the ceremony at Longbourn under Hill’s supervision after Mrs. Bennet refused to risk muddy paws in the church. She now waited outside the breakfast room, where the servants knew that shutting a door against her delayed rather than prevented entry.
Hurst raised his glass to Darcy without making a speech.
Louisa congratulated Elizabeth and spoke with genuine warmth, though she avoided any mention of Caroline.
Her sister had returned to London under the care of relations who considered distance from Hertfordshire necessary.
Whether she regretted what she had done remained uncertain, but her opinion no longer governed Netherfield.
Georgiana sat beside Elizabeth during the meal. She spoke little while others crowded around them, but her reserve was not fear. When Mrs. Bennet began explaining how often she intended to visit Pemberley, Georgiana caught Elizabeth’s eye and hid a smile behind her glass.
Darcy saw it. “You encourage her.”
“I said nothing.”
“That has not prevented encouragement before.”
Georgiana looked between them. “I believe I shall enjoy having a sister.”
Elizabeth reached beneath the table and pressed her hand.
Before Elizabeth went upstairs to change, Bennet drew Darcy toward the library door.
“I have no speech prepared,” he said. “Consider that my wedding gift.”
“I am grateful.”
“I shall ask one thing. Do not mistake Lizzy’s strength for a lack of need. She will not always tell you when she carries too much.”
Darcy glanced across the room, where Elizabeth stood between Jane and Georgiana.
“I know.”
Bennet followed his gaze. “Yes. I believe you do.”
By the time the carriages came around, the house had grown warm and loud.
Elizabeth changed into her traveling dress, endured another embrace from her mother, and promised to write soon.
Lydia and Kitty followed her into the hall with conflicting advice about marriage, and Mary brought the book Elizabeth had left in the drawing room. Bennet remained near the library door.
Elizabeth stopped before him.
“I suppose this is where I offer wisdom,” he said.
“You have offered enough to last until Christmas.”
“Then I shall save the remainder.”
She embraced him. Bennet held her for a moment, then released her before Mrs. Bennet could notice and turn the farewell into a family ceremony.
Outside, the air carried the first edge of winter. Sarah waited beside the Darcy carriage with a length of rope at her feet. Hill stood nearby, holding the end of it without conviction.
“Sarah knows you are leaving,” Georgiana said as she joined Elizabeth on the steps.
“She knows a carriage means movement. The distinction may not interest her.”
Sarah abandoned the rope and approached Darcy. Months earlier, he might have stepped aside to protect his coat. Now he held out his hand, waited for her to inspect it, then rubbed the fur behind her ears. Sarah accepted the attention before turning toward the open carriage door.
“It appears she intends to come,” Georgiana said.
“That was always her intention,” Elizabeth replied.
Darcy glanced from the dog to the carriage. “Will she remain inside once we begin?”
“No.”
“Will she attempt to direct the horses?”
“Not if they behave.”
He considered the answer, lifted Sarah into the carriage, and placed the rope beneath the opposite seat before she could claim it.
Elizabeth watched him. “You have improved.”
“I have learned to examine the evidence before reaching a conclusion.”
“You first saw me in a field with Sarah and concluded that I belonged among the livestock.”
“I concluded that you worked with them.”
“You concluded much more than that.”
“I did.” He offered her his hand. “My education began with a mistake.”
Elizabeth placed her hand in his and stepped into the carriage. “It remains incomplete.”
“I suspected as much.”
Georgiana stood beside the door. Elizabeth leaned forward and embraced her.
“We shall see you at Pemberley.”
“Very soon,” Georgiana said.
Bingley called from the steps that they would follow before Christmas, while Jane reminded him that invitations required more than shouting across a drive. Mrs. Bennet waved a handkerchief and began another set of instructions that no one could hear.
Darcy entered the carriage and sat beside Elizabeth. Sarah occupied the opposite seat for three seconds before crossing the space between them and placing her head on Darcy’s knee.
He looked down at her.
“She has chosen her place,” Elizabeth said.
“So I see.”
“You may object.”
“I have learned the value of useless objections.”
The carriage moved forward. Longbourn passed beyond the window, with her family gathered on the steps and Bennet standing a little apart near the door. Elizabeth kept her eyes on them until the turn in the drive hid the house.
Darcy took her hand. Sarah shifted against his leg but did not move away.
Elizabeth looked from the dog to her husband. “You understand that this is only the beginning.”
Darcy closed his fingers around hers. “I do.”