Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jane and Bingley's Wedding
Jane married Bingley in October.
The day dawned pale and clear, with mist lying low over the fields around Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet began crying before breakfast and did not entirely stop until supper.
Darcy stood beside his friend at the church.
Elizabeth stood beside Jane.
The ceremony was nearly the same as the one they remembered.
And entirely different.
Bingley cried when Jane entered.
Darcy leaned slightly toward him. "Control yourself."
Bingley sniffed. "You cried at your first wedding."
Darcy stared. "What?"
Bingley grinned. "I assume you will."
Darcy's heart stopped for half a beat.
Then Bingley frowned. "What?"
"Nothing."
Darcy nearly laughed at himself.
He was becoming paranoid.
Jane smiled throughout the ceremony. Not politely. Not serenely. Happily.
When Bingley took her hand, she squeezed his.
Elizabeth saw.
So did Darcy.
Their eyes met across the church.
Old joy.
New day.
At the wedding breakfast Mary played one short piece. It was not perfect, but she did not attempt anything beyond her skill and accepted applause without immediately offering a moral observation.
Kitty danced with a young gentleman from Hertford who asked about her drawings rather than Lydia.
Lydia danced three times and refused a fourth because she was tired.
Mrs. Bennet boasted extensively.
Elizabeth did not spend the afternoon mortified.
She redirected when necessary, smiled when she could, and reminded herself that her mother was celebrating a beloved daughter rather than auditioning for society's approval.
At one point Mrs. Bennet loudly informed Lady Lucas that Pemberley possessed a dining room larger than Netherfield's.
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
Darcy, beside her, whispered, "Rule seven."
She turned. "What?"
"We do not postpone happiness."
"How is that relevant?"
Darcy's face remained perfectly solemn. "I am choosing to be happy despite your mother."
Elizabeth laughed aloud.
Mrs. Bennet looked over. "What?"
"Nothing, Mama."
Darcy smiled.
Mr. Bennet saw.
He shook his head as though both were hopeless.
Later, after Jane and Bingley departed, Elizabeth stood alone for a moment in the churchyard. Darcy came beside her.
"Do you remember the first time?" she asked.
"Every moment."
"Jane looked frightened then."
"Bingley looked as though the priest might change his mind."
Elizabeth laughed. "He nearly did. Papa whispered something to him before the service."
Darcy looked offended on Bingley's behalf. "Your father should not be permitted near nervous bridegrooms."
"You survived."
"Barely."
Elizabeth slipped her hand into his where the church wall concealed them. "This was better."
Darcy squeezed once. "Yes."
Not because it was perfect.
Because Jane and Bingley had reached it with confidence intact.
After Lydia's return, Colonel Forster came to Longbourn for dinner and surprised Elizabeth by asking to speak privately with Mr. Bennet.
The subject was not Wickham but discipline within the militia.
Forster admitted Darcy's warning had forced him to examine several habits he had previously dismissed as ordinary youthful excess.
Mr. Bennet later repeated part of the conversation to Elizabeth. "Apparently Mr. Darcy has become the conscience of Hertfordshire."
Elizabeth smiled. "He will hate that description."
"Good. I intend to use it."
Darcy did hate it.
When Mr. Bennet greeted him two days later with, "Ah, the conscience of Hertfordshire," Darcy stopped in the doorway.
Elizabeth covered her mouth.
Bingley laughed openly.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. "You told him."
"I did not."
"Your face is guilty."
"My face is delighted."
Mr. Bennet waved Darcy toward a chair. "Come, Conscience. I have questions about a tenant lease."
Darcy muttered something under his breath.
Elizabeth leaned closer. "What was that?"
"Nothing fit for a gentleman's daughter."
"I have been your wife. I can survive it."
Mr. Bennet looked between them. "There. Again."
Both froze.
"Again what?" Elizabeth asked too brightly.
Her father narrowed his eyes. "You speak as if half your conversations began years before I entered the room."
Darcy recovered first. "Miss Elizabeth is unusually quick."
Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter. "That explanation would satisfy me if you did not occasionally answer before he finishes."
Elizabeth smiled. "Perhaps Mr. Darcy is predictable."
Darcy gave her a wounded look.
Mr. Bennet laughed and let the matter go.
But Elizabeth noticed him watching them afterward.
Her father would never receive proof.
Still, perhaps some part of him would always suspect that his favorite daughter had returned from somewhere he could not name.