Chapter 34
Darcy woke before the servant came to call him.
For a moment, he lay still, staring up at the unfamiliar canopy, disoriented—until memory returned all at once.
Rosings.
Elizabeth.
The wedding!
He sat up at once. A strange lightness filled him—not the restless agitation of the day before, but something steadier. Anticipation. Certainty.
He was to be married.
And nothing—nothing—would prevent it.
A knock sounded at the door, and before Darcy could answer, it opened. Richard stepped in, already dressed, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
“Well,” he said, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, “how does it feel to wake a free man for the last time?”
Darcy gave him a look as he rose. “If that is your idea of wit, I must question your readiness to stand up with me.”
Richard grinned. “Oh, I am perfectly ready. I simply wish to enjoy the novelty while it lasts. You, my dear cousin, are about to be bound and chained for the remainder of your life.”
Darcy reached for his banyan with calm precision. “You would do well to exercise caution in your mockery. If I recall correctly, you are not far behind me.”
Richard’s grin sharpened. “Ah—but I enter into my own chains with eyes wide open.”
“And a special license in hand,” Darcy returned dryly. Richard placed a hand over his heart. “A man must be prepared.”
Darcy shook his head, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression.
A servant entered with a breakfast tray and set it down neatly on the small table. Richard pushed away from the door at once. “Good. You are to eat.”
Darcy frowned slightly. “I would prefer to go and check on Elizabeth.”
“I would not do that, old chap,” Richard warned. “Bad luck and all that. Best eat up.”
“But—”
“No,” Richard said firmly, intercepting him. “You would prefer to collapse halfway through the ceremony from lack of food? Sit down.”
Darcy hesitated.
“I should like to know how she fares.”
“And I should like you to remain upright long enough to marry her,” Richard replied. “The ladies have her well in hand. You are not to see the bride before the ceremony—it is considered very poor form. And, I am told, rather unlucky.”
Darcy exhaled, reluctant but not unreasonable. “Very well.”
He sat.
Richard watched with satisfaction as Darcy took a piece of toast.
“Eat all of it,” he warned mockingly, “or I shall be forced to stand over you like a nursemaid.”
Darcy shot him a look. “I have endured your letters while on campaign. I shall endure you now.”
Richard laughed.
Fortunately for Darcy’s sanity, time passed quickly. Before he knew it, his valet had him all dressed and presentable.
Richard gave him a critical look. “Respectable. Passable, even.”
Darcy ignored him.
A servant appeared at the door. “The carriage is ready, sir.”
Darcy drew in a breath.
This is it.
He glanced once around the room, and Richard said, “Come on, man. What are you waiting for?”
They descended the stairs together and stepped out into the crisp morning air, where the carriage waited.
As it set off toward the small chapel, Darcy found his hands stilling at last.
No more uncertainty.
No more delay.
Only the moments ahead.
And the promise waiting for him there.
∞∞∞
“Elizabeth, wake up.”
Elizabeth stirred, blinking against the light as she turned her head on the pillow.
“It is your wedding day! Come on, wake up—you need to get ready!”
Rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes, Elizabeth lifted her head up and looked around. Georgiana stood beside the bed, fairly glowing with excitement.
“Oh good, you are now awake!” She gave a little clap. “I have been waiting and waiting, and there is so much to tell you—Mama has arranged the breakfast downstairs, and there are flowers, and Mrs. Jenkinson says—”
Elizabeth let out a small, sleepy laugh as she pushed herself upright. “Good morning, Georgiana.”
“Good morning!” Georgiana returned eagerly. “Oh, it is all so very fine—you shall see everything soon, but first you must eat and be dressed, and there is scarcely any time at all.”
As if summoned by her words, the door opened.
Lady Anne entered, serene but clearly pleased, with Lady Catherine close behind her. A maid followed with a breakfast tray, which was set down at once.
“Good morning, my dear. I hope you slept well,” Lady Anne said gently. “We had a small tray prepared for you. It will be a long morning.”
Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze flickering between them—memories of the previous day still lingering just beneath the surface.
Lady Catherine, ever perceptive, lifted her chin slightly. “You need not fear an interrogation this morning. I shall not speak of family matters.”
Elizabeth looked at her.
“Today is your wedding day,” Lady Catherine continued, more quietly than was her usual manner. “You are to think only of that. There will be time enough for the rest later.”
Elizabeth felt a small measure of tension leave her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Now—eat,” Lady Catherine added briskly.
Elizabeth reached for the tray—and then suddenly stilled. “Oh!”
All three ladies looked at her at once. “What is it?” Georgiana asked.
“I have nothing to wear,” Elizabeth said, her eyes widening as the realization struck her fully.
Lady Catherine waved a hand as though dismissing the concern entirely. “That has already been addressed.”
Elizabeth blinked.
“A gown has been taken from my daughter Anne’s wardrobe,” she continued. “A maid was retained—at additional expense—to remain awake through the night and make the necessary alterations. It should answer well enough.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Through the night?”
“Of course,” Lady Catherine said. “We could hardly present you improperly.”
Georgiana nodded eagerly. “It is very pretty—I saw it before they brought it up.”
Elizabeth let out a breath, half laugh, half amazement, and picked up her tea.
She managed a little toast as the conversation turned to the breakfast below—flowers, dishes, the arrangement of the room. Lady Catherine spoke of it all with brisk satisfaction, while Lady Anne added quieter details.
“You are both welcome to remain at Rosings as long as you wish,” Lady Catherine declared at last. “It will be far more suitable than any immediate return elsewhere.”
She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “And you as well, Anne. And Georgiana.”
A small laugh passed between them, and Lady Anne said teasingly, “I see I have been replaced in your affections, Cathy.”
Elizabeth felt it then—lightness. A quiet, steady happiness that had nothing to do with certainty and everything to do with the present moment.
A knock sounded, and another maid entered. “The gown is ready, my lady.”
Elizabeth rose, allowing them to assist her.
The dress was indeed that of a maiden—altered with surprising skill, though not perfectly. It sat a little differently at the shoulders, the seams not quite as precise as they might have been.
But the color—
A deeper rose than she had ever worn before.
It suited her.
Where Jane’s pale gowns had always softened her, this one brought her to life—brightening her eyes, lending warmth to her cheeks.
Georgiana clasped her hands again. “Oh, Elizabeth—you look beautiful.”
Elizabeth looked at herself—then smiled.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I believe I do.”
“That color is perfect on you,” Lady Anne said with a warm smile.
“If you would just sit here, miss,” the maid said, gesturing towards the vanity, “I can do your hair.”
Elizabeth obeyed, watching in the mirror as pins were laid out and sections lifted and smoothed.
Lady Anne rose. “We must go and finish dressing.”
Georgiana lingered.
“Go on, my dear,” Lady Anne said gently. “We shall join you shortly.”
Georgiana gave a little squeal of excitement and fairly bounced from the room. The door closed, leaving Elizabeth with the two older ladies. They exchanged glances, having a conversation with their eyes that reminded Elizabeth very much of herself and Jane.
Then Lady Catherine said, with quiet authority, “Grace, please wait in the hall for a few minutes while we speak with Miss Elizabeth.”
The maid paused only long enough to bob a curtsy before withdrawing, closing the door behind her.
Elizabeth’s stomach gave a small, distinctly uneasy turn.
Both women were looking at her.
Intently.
“Is… everything all right?” she asked, attempting composure.
Lady Anne flushed at once. “Yes—only—we do not wish to presume—and under ordinary circumstances I should never think of addressing such a subject—and indeed I would not now, except that—”
Elizabeth blinked.
Then blinked again.
Her unease deepened.
“Should I be alarmed?” she asked cautiously.
Lady Anne’s color deepened. “No—no, certainly not alarmed—only—prepared—and yet not in any improper sense—”
Elizabeth sat very still, quite certain she was somehow the subject of a conversation she did not understand at all.
Lady Catherine sighed. “Anne, you are frightening the girl.”
She turned to Elizabeth with brisk directness. “My dear, we simply wish to know whether you require anyone to speak with you regarding the wedding night.”
Elizabeth felt the heat rise at once, flooding her cheeks. “Oh.”
She shifted in her chair, suddenly very conscious of her half-done hair, the pins scattered on the table. Lady Catherine and Lady Anne continued to look at her intently.
“I… I know a few things,” she managed, her voice smaller than she intended. “Having grown up on a country estate with… with animals.”
Lady Catherine and Lady Anne exchanged a glance.
“Good,” Lady Catherine said, with a small nod. “You know the basics, at least. It is somewhat similar with people.”
Elizabeth felt as though her face were about to burst into flame.
“When your father and I—” Lady Catherine began, then stopped, correcting herself with visible effort. “That is—when I had my first child—it was from affection. My marriage to Sir Lewis was… arranged.”
“And mine,” Lady Anne said softly, “was born of compromise.”