Chapter Thirty-Six #2
"Yes." Elizabeth was quiet a moment. "But you and my uncle were first. Long before any of them. You chose me when nobody required you to. That does not change because I now have more."
Mrs. Gardiner reached across and covered her hand briefly.
Darcy joined them later, settling into the room with the ease of a man who had been welcome at Gracechurch Street long enough that no announcement was necessary.
Not long afterward Mr. Gardiner emerged from his office with the slightly dazed expression of a man surfacing from several hours of accounts.
He accepted his tea, made several observations about the weather, and then produced a letter.
"From Longbourn," he said, setting it beside Elizabeth's cup. "Mr. Bennet writes that Kitty will come to us for the winter. She is expected in October."
He paused.
"On the whole, he seemed rather pleased by the arrangement."
"I believe keeping Kitty will be considerably easier than keeping you."
"That may be because he sees little value in her. He always called her a silly girl."
"Then he has misjudged another daughter," said Darcy.
"She may yet surprise us all."
"I believe she already has," said Mrs. Gardiner quietly.
Elizabeth smiled.
"Yes. I believe she has."
"You should be back from Brinmouth well before October," Mrs. Gardiner observed with perfect innocence.
"Two months ought to be sufficient," Elizabeth said.
"I had been considering rather longer than that," said Darcy.
"How much longer?"
"A lifetime seemed reasonable."
Mr. Gardiner developed a sudden interest in his teacup. Mrs. Gardiner pressed her lips together very firmly. Elizabeth coloured and did not look at Darcy for a full minute.
At length her uncle cleared his throat and produced a second letter, observing as he handed it across that it had arrived with the first. It was in Jane's hand.
Elizabeth read it. The sentiments were warm and graceful and arranged with Jane's usual precision; full of dearest Lizzy and every happiness and the sisters they had always been and always would be.
Mr. Bingley sent his warmest regards, and Jane looked forward to the day when every misunderstanding might be forgotten in the joy of their mutual felicity.
Elizabeth folded the letter and set it down.
"She writes very well," Darcy said.
"She always has."
She reached for her tea.
Mrs. Gardiner looked from the letter to Elizabeth and then to Darcy, and seemed perfectly content to let the facts speak for themselves.
The days remaining before the wedding proved far too full for dwelling on anything at all.
Lady Ashford still considered several matters relating to Elizabeth's trousseau unfinished.
Lady Matlock agreed with her. Mrs. Gardiner, though professing moderation, proved little better than the rest. Between them they ensured that Elizabeth had very little leisure in which to regret anything.
The church in Grosvenor Square was warm with autumn light, and the company was everything Elizabeth had wished for, though there had been many years when she would never have dared wish for such a thing at all.
Lord Matlock appeared at her side and offered his arm.
"Shall we?" he asked.
She smiled and took it.
The church held everyone she loved, though there had been some discussion over where everyone ought to sit.
In the end Lady Matlock, Mrs. Pembroke, and Mr. Gardiner were placed upon her side, while Lord and Lady Ashford sat with Darcy's family.
Mrs. Gardiner stood waiting at the front of the church.
Colonel Fitzwilliam stood beside Darcy and, catching Elizabeth's eye as she entered, looked as though he were restraining a remark only through considerable effort.
Darcy turned as she came down the aisle, and whatever amusement Colonel Fitzwilliam might have found in the occasion was forgotten. There was nothing guarded in Darcy's expression now. The reserve that had once seemed as natural to him as breathing had vanished entirely.
When she reached him, his gaze did not leave her, and Elizabeth found she minded it no more than she minded the sunlight through the church windows.
The vows were familiar words, spoken every day in churches throughout England, yet she thought she had never heard them quite so clearly. She meant every one. So, she suspected, did Darcy.
When it was over, he retained possession of her hand rather longer than was strictly necessary, and might very well have continued to do so indefinitely had Colonel Fitzwilliam not cleared his throat with such significance that half the church turned to look at him.
Darcy appeared wholly prepared to ignore the interruption.
Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared delighted by the discovery.
They went to Brinmouth because there was nowhere else they wished to go.
The cottage at Cliff Row was exactly as Elizabeth remembered it. The sea announced itself long before it came into view, and she found herself smiling before they had even reached the door.
One morning she rose early and walked down to the shore as she had done so many times before. The sea was much as she remembered; the waves rolling steadily toward the sand, the gulls wheeling overhead, the familiar scent of salt carried upon the wind.
She found the flat rock and sat for a while, thinking of that first morning.
The breeze toyed with the ribbons of her bonnet, and Elizabeth smiled and removed it, setting it beside her.
The wind chose that moment to rise, and the bonnet lifted from the rock and went skimming across the sand.
"Oh dear." A familiar figure intercepted it before it had travelled very far, and Darcy straightened with the bonnet in his hand and began walking toward her.
"It seems the wind favours mischief this morning."
Elizabeth laughed.
"I believe I have heard that observation before."
"So have I."
He stopped before her.
"Well, sir?"
"Yes?"
"My bonnet."
Darcy considered it.
"I think I prefer you without it."
"Mr. Darcy."
"Mrs. Darcy."
Before she could properly reply, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, and somewhere in the process the bonnet slipped from his fingers and disappeared. Neither of them noticed, and when at last Elizabeth thought of it again and looked about, it had vanished entirely.
"My bonnet."
Darcy glanced toward the sea.
"I believe it has been claimed."
"A terrible loss."
"Very much so."
Elizabeth sighed.
"When Amelia learns of this, she will insist I require another."
"One?"
"Three at the very least. Aunt Deborah will agree with her."
"And Madeline."
"And Madeline."
Darcy looked entirely untroubled.
"I shall endure it."
"You are not the one who must go shopping."
"No," he agreed. "I am merely the one who must pay for it."
Elizabeth laughed and slipped her hand through his arm.
Together they turned back toward the cottage.
"I love you, Mrs. Darcy."
"I love you, Mr. Darcy."
Behind them the sea kept its prize.
Fin.