Chapter 18
Eighteen
At long last, the morning of Elizabeth’s wedding dawned.
In truth, she had only been required to wait a month to marry her dear Darcy, but it had felt much longer than that with so much heady anticipation to endure.
It had been a struggle, but only an hour hence she would be signing her name as Elizabeth Darcy.
A soft knock at her bedchamber door beckoned Elizabeth’s attention away from the dressing table mirror. “Come in.”
The door to the hall opened, and Jane slipped inside, still wearing her nightgown with her hair braided over one shoulder. Her blue eyes were alight with the warm glow of abundant joy. “Mama has sent for us. ’Tis time to ready ourselves for the ceremony.”
It was not only Elizabeth and Darcy’s wedding day but also Jane and Bingley’s.
Upon the formal confirmation of the former’s engagement, the couples had heartily agreed to share the occasion, much to Mrs Bennet’s glee.
She had set immediately to work selecting the finest champagne, ordering new gowns for herself and her younger daughters, and designing towering arrangements of hothouse flowers to gild the Netherfield ballroom where the breakfast was to be held—such a grand event, the likes of which Hertfordshire had never seen, demanded no less.
Even on relatively short notice, much could be accomplished with two wealthy grooms settling the bill.
Elizabeth rose and followed Jane into the hall, pausing to embrace her dearest sister at the threshold. “Are you nervous?”
“No, I am ready. And you?”
She pulled back, returning Jane’s beaming grin. “I thought I would be, but it turns out that I am merely anxious to have it done with so I can call myself Mrs Darcy at last.”
Strange and unexpected as this truth was, she could not deny it.
They had been through enough travails together that she could hardly believe they had reached such a happy conclusion.
One would think that so much discord would make her wish to dissolve their understanding, but to the contrary, Elizabeth felt as if their attachment was all the stronger for having been tried so thoroughly.
Unlike most women, she would not go into marriage blinded by the rosy tint of infatuation and unrealistic expectations.
Instead, she would become a wife with a greater knowledge of herself, and her partner, than she previously could have hoped.
She could now stride into the future with the confidence that, with honesty and a great deal of patience for one another’s faults, they would be stronger together than apart.
Jane gave her another tight squeeze before withdrawing and leading the way down the corridor towards their mother’s dressing room.
Within, Mrs Bennet was already a flurry of activity, fluffing the skirt of Jane’s periwinkle dress as she shrilly commanded Hill to press a wrinkle—hardly noticeable, to Elizabeth’s eye—out of the rose-hued garment selected for Elizabeth.
They had purchased their wedding gowns in London, and Mrs Bennet was inordinately proud of them, so it was little wonder that she was being so particular over their presentation.
“There you are, girls!” Mrs Bennet cried upon belatedly noticing them in the doorway.
“Come in, come in so Sarah and Hannah can do your hair.” She flapped her hands impatiently towards a pair of chairs placed before her own dressing table, a beautiful piece with a looking glass large enough for them both to use simultaneously.
After exchanging an amused look, the sisters sat down and submitted to the ministrations of the maids while their mother fluttered about in a whirl of lace and hysterics. “The cake!” she shrieked without warning, dashing from the room with Hill hard on her heels.
Elizabeth and Jane erupted into giggles at Mrs Bennet’s impromptu departure. “I had always considered Mama rather excitable, but her nerves have far exceeded my expectations.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” chided Jane without rancour. “Her enthusiasm is understandable, given how long she has waited to marry one of us off. Two daughters married on the same day is a greater feat than she ever dared dream of.”
“Too true, but if she does not calm herself, she will swoon and miss the entire wedding.”
Mrs Bennet’s caterwauling echoed throughout the house for the next quarter of an hour, eliciting a great deal of sympathy from Elizabeth for Hill and Cook.
Their longest-reigning servants were well used to their mistress’s moods, but Mrs Bennet was more than usually vociferous today.
She was thankful for the presence of Mrs Gardiner, who stopped in the doorway to reassure her nieces that all was well in hand before rushing off to intervene.
“Much as I adore Mama, I shall be glad for the relative peace and quiet of Pemberley,” Elizabeth confided in a whisper to Jane, her eyebrows lifting meaningfully.
Although Jane’s nose wrinkled, she did not scold. “Think of me when you have a hundred miles of good road between you and Hertfordshire. I daresay Mama will be at Netherfield as much as she is at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth reached out to squeeze Jane’s hand. “Forgive me, I had not thought of that.”
Jane squeezed back. “Better Mama than Caroline. I much prefer her exuberant fits to devious schemes.”
“Have I mentioned yet how proud I am of you for refusing to allow Miss Bingley to live with you?”
Something akin to a smirk hitched up one side of Jane’s mouth. “Once or twice.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Well, it is true. I was worried that she would be allowed to take advantage of your gentle nature, but you have done as you ought and sent her off. Where is she going, again?”
“Bath, to stay with family. Charles says that Aunt Eugenia will keep a close eye on her and, we hope, find her a husband as quickly as she did her own daughters.”
If Elizabeth had been surprised at Jane’s firm refusal to host Miss Bingley at Netherfield, she was doubly shocked to learn that the Hursts would not take her in either.
Jane said that the couple merely did not wish to spend any great time away from town, but Darcy had whispered in Elizabeth’s ear that they were reluctant to damage their standing in the ton by keeping her.
Miss Bingley’s machinations had done her far more harm than good, causing a rupture not only with her brother but Darcy as well.
Although neither gentleman had said a disparaging word of her, it was common knowledge throughout society that she was no longer known to either of them, and her consequence had been deeply tarnished.
It was hoped that she could begin anew in Bath where her conniving nature was not as well known as it was in London.
“I suppose there is an abundance of impoverished noblemen thereabouts,” Elizabeth mused. “With her looks and fortune, she ought to have the pick of them.”
“Such is our hope.”
The maids declared their hair finished and moved to help them dress.
Soon, two blushing brides were reflected in the mirror, one in the softest possible blue and the other in a warm pink.
They held hands, smiling at one another’s reflections as they basked in one final moment as the eldest miss Bennets of Longbourn.
This moment of quiet was broken by the entrance of their mother, who shrieked, “What are you still doing in here? We are due at the church in ten minutes!”
From there, it was a dizzying rush of activity as they gathered up the collection of Bennets and Gardiners, scrambled to find shoes, gloves, and bonnets enough for everyone, and finally left only five minutes late.
Darcy had been married for more than an hour already, and still he could not tear his eyes away from his beautiful bride.
It amazed him anew every time she laughed, smiled, or quipped a witty rejoinder that Elizabeth Bennet was now Mrs Darcy—his wife.
So many times in the recent past, Darcy had feared that this moment would never come to pass, yet here they were in the receiving line of their breakfast at Netherfield, cheerfully accepting congratulations on their nuptials.
Well, more truthfully, Elizabeth was undertaking the task because Darcy could not be bothered to do much more than stare at her, something Fitzwilliam had found extremely entertaining.
He had also demanded a suitable gift for giving his cousin ‘the kick in the breeches you so sorely needed’.
To hear the colonel speak, he was a great matchmaker and had been the singular instrument of Darcy’s present happiness.
Although there was a small bit of truth to this, and he was grateful for it, Darcy found Fitzwilliam’s boasting vastly annoying.
He had threatened to give his cousin a kick in return, which had only caused the colonel to guffaw more loudly.
At least Marbury had not deigned to come, sparing him genuine outrage.
Darcy refused to take Fitzwilliam’s teasing to heart for nothing, and no one could vex him this day.
Not even his new mother and sisters, who were, as ever, more boisterous than he considered wise.
He chose to overlook their characteristic ebullience for the simple fact that he was too happy himself to dampen their spirits.
Besides, the two youngest girls had taken Georgiana into their circle and made her feel like another sister.
Never had Darcy seen her so at ease amongst strangers, and he felt he must be grateful to Kitty and Lydia for making it so, even if giggling loudly and flitting about the ballroom after gentlemen was not particularly decorous.
The regiment, thankfully, had already made for Brighton for the summer, so there was no risk of Georgiana encountering Wickham.
Lydia, in particular, had been grieved over the officers’ departure as she had been invited by the wife of the militia colonel to join them at the seaside.
Darcy had spoken to Mr Bennet on the matter and prevented any such disaster from taking place.
By way of recompense to his new sisters, he had promised them a house party at Pemberley later in the summer, which had garnered their enthusiastic support.
The Bennets, Gardiners, Bingleys—minus Miss Bingley, who was for Bath and not welcome in any case—and Hursts would gather in July for the purpose.
Fitzwilliam had also threatened to make an appearance if he could persuade his general to allow it.
He had not been precisely invited, but such trivialities never bothered the colonel.
Mrs Bennet could not stop crowing over the scheme to all her neighbours, and Darcy could not help a smile whenever he overheard her bragging, “My son Darcy means to have us for a house party over the summer. You have heard of Pemberley, have you not? Of course you have, it is one of the finest estates in the country…”
Ever since his engagement to Elizabeth, Mrs Bennet had warmed to Darcy considerably.
It had begun tepidly, but now she doted on him quite as much as Bingley.
The deciding factor, Elizabeth had confided to him, was how gallantly he behaved during their courtship.
It seemed that Mrs Bennet needed only to be persuaded of Darcy’s undying devotion to her daughter before she would give her blessing.
In contrast, Mr Bennet had made some quip about not daring to refuse such a man as Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley before giving his unqualified consent to the match.
He then went immediately back to his reading without bothering to ask any particulars about the settlement or Darcy’s affections for Elizabeth.
When he compared the two parents, Darcy had to admit a greater respect for the mother than the father in this instance.
“I think that is the last of them,” Elizabeth said, tipping up her chin to return his steady gaze.
“Hmm?”
Her lips curled in a wry smile. “The last of our guests, Fitzwilliam. Or have you been wool-gathering all this time?”
“I have been basking in your loveliness. I had no attention to spare for anyone else.”
The flush rising on Elizabeth’s cheeks caused a stirring in his belly. How he longed to get her away from here and into the privacy of his—their— carriage and spirit her away to London.
“My goodness, sir. You have crafted quite the silver tongue!”
He lifted his bride’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon her fingers. “All my riches are for your benefit, dearest.”
Elizabeth swatted at him, her face infused with enough pink to rival her dress. “Stop it or Mama will be over here in a moment to examine me for fever!”
“In that case…” Darcy made a great show of looking about him before returning his molten gaze to Elizabeth. “Perhaps we should flee before she catches us.”
“What, now?”
“This very moment.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and peered over his shoulder. Her eyes held an impish gleam when she looked at him again. “Then let us be off.”
This was more than enough encouragement for Darcy, who scooped Elizabeth into his arms and dashed away with her into the hall.
She squealed and laughed the entire way down the corridor, and he did not set her down again until they were in their carriage and he had instructed the driver to take them on to Darcy House.
Once the door was shut behind them, he took Elizabeth’s face between his hands and kissed her the way he had wished to all day.