Chapter Ninety-One
It could not be denied; the wedding of Charlotte Lucas to Viscount Worthing was the best-attended wedding Meryton had ever seen.
Charlotte was well-liked and much-respected but, sadly, she had long been considered on the shelf.
Having her wed a Viscount was as close to a fairy tale as Meryton was likely to see, and so the church was full long before the ceremony had begun.
Anne had arrived with the Bennets, but moved to the front pew to sit with her mother and her aunt and uncle.
“What on earth are you wearing, Anne?” Lady Catherine hissed in her daughter's ear.
“A new gown,” Anne whispered back. The gown had arrived just after dawn; it was a pale rose colour, decorated with silver ribbon around the neckline and sleeves, and a silver ribbon was tied under the bodice.
She had rose slippers to match. She looked an entirely different young woman, and had been very pleased with what she had seen in the mirror!
“It looks dreadful! So very common! I suppose one of those Bennet girls loaned it to you?”
“No, I bought it yesterday in Meryton.”
Anne’s unexpected appearance had not escaped the eagle eye of the Countess. “Anne!” she whispered. “Let me see you!”
Anne rose and made her way quickly to her aunt’s side.
The Countess smiled widely and said, “Oh, you look very nice!! I do not suppose your mother selected that gown?”
“No; I went to Meryton yesterday and had it made.”
“Well, it was an excellent choice. You must leave off those dreadful brocades; you always look as though you can barely stand up under so much weight!”
Anne had every intention of leaving off the brocades, and very much wished to speak with her Aunt Eleanor on the subject, but now was not the time.
Georgiana, too, was sitting with the Earl and Countess; she moved closer to her aunt, motioning Anne to sit beside her. The two cousins had not seen one another for a long while; they began whispering together immediately.
Mr. Fitzwilliam entered the church, with Mr. Darcy at his side. Both were dressed in black breeches, white shirts, white cravats, and black jackets. Both wore tall black top hats.
“He looks so very handsome, does he not?” Georgiana whispered to Anne.
“Reggie? Well…”
“No, no! William!”
“Oh, your brother. Yes, he is very handsome.” He was, Anne thought; it was a shame that she felt nothing for him except cousinly affection. But he was for Lizzy, in any case.
A small commotion at the church’s entrance signaled the arrival of the bride. Elizabeth walked in first, wearing her best day dress. Mr. Darcy’s eyes were drawn to her at once. It seemed to him that she looked back at him, but that might be just his imagination.
Georgiana, seeing her brother’s expression, turned at once to see the object of his stare.
So this was the woman her brother loved!
Georgiana smiled widely. She wore a pale green dress with white embroidery; it was very lovely indeed.
She was very pretty, with her dark hair and light figure.
And her eyes…no, she was too far away for Georgiana to see their colour.
But it could not be denied that her brother’s eyes were fixed on this young lady to the exclusion of all else.
And then in walked the bride on her father’s arm! Her gown, which had been made in London under the Countess’ supervision, was everything worthy of a fairy tale. It was blue satin, with gold trimmings and insets, and made the most of her tall, slim figure.
Everyone was transfixed; the church was completely silent as the rector spoke the familiar words.
And when they were finally pronounced husband and wife, and a Viscountess’ coronet was placed upon her head, those in attendance actually gasped aloud.
“Just like a story,” they whispered to one another.
The Earl and Countess of Matlock were teary-eyed. They had all but given up hope that their eldest son would marry, and now here he was, wed at last to a sensible and entirely appropriate young lady, who quite obviously returned their son’s affection!
Sir William and Lady Lucas, sitting in the front pew, also had tears in their eyes. Maria was busily calculating how soon she might impose upon her elder sister to give her a Season in London, for surely the sister of a Viscountess should have one, should she not?