Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“Why was Mr Darcy here?” Elizabeth wondered as she stood at the altar. She knew he would be attending, but somehow seeing him, breathing the same air as him, made it different. She had been mildly irritated before. Now, fury filled her.
No, she could not frown or storm lest Charlotte think she did not approve of this marriage.
Charlotte. Think of Charlotte.
Charlotte looked beautiful.
Charlotte looked happy.
The early morning hours with Charlotte, preparing her for the wedding, had been a delight.
It was the last moments of their girlhood friendship, and though sadness at the finality of it coloured the edges, they had giggled and teased as they recalled adventures of their youth, and it had been most wonderful.
Mr Slade was giving Charlotte a ring.
Charlotte was taking her vows.
Elizabeth had dreamed of taking vows to bind herself to Mr Darcy.
But he ruined it.
He ran away.
In her sister’s moment of need, he ran away.
The clattering wheels. The whinnying horses. The scream.
Why could she not forget it?
She pressed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them.
Charlotte was beaming.
Charlotte and Mr Slade were wed.
Hooray for Charlotte.
Less so for herself.
Well, nothing to be done. On to the breakfast.
What would she do when Mr Darcy was near?