CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Meryton Watches
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Meryton Watches
Meryton had not seen such a crowd at the parish church in years.
People arrived early enough to secure places near the front, then pretended their punctuality had nothing to do with curiosity.
Farmers stood beside tradesmen. Officers filled two pews, conspicuously sober after the scandal of Wickham and his companions.
Lady Lucas wore her best bonnet. Mrs. Phillips had purchased a new one and informed everyone who complimented it that she was aunt to both brides.
The churchyard itself became a theatre. “Is that the Earl’s carriage?”
“No, that is Mr. Bingley’s.”
“Mr. Darcy is already inside.”
“I heard he still limps.”
“He nearly lost the leg.”
“My sister says he proposed while unconscious.”
“He was not unconscious. Miss Lizzy was.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Neither did the story when Mrs. Long told it.”
Inside, Darcy stood near the front with Bingley. Bingley had stopped pacing only because Richard threatened to stand on his foot.
“Is it nine fifty-five?” Bingley whispered.
“Yes.”
“How long until ten?”
Darcy looked at him. “Five minutes.”
“I know that.”
“Then why ask?”
“I hoped time had accelerated.”
Richard, behind them, said, “If either of you faints, I am leaving you on the floor.”
Bingley turned. “Darcy has experience with that.”
Darcy stared straight ahead. The Earl hid a smile. Mr. Hurst coughed into his glove.
Music began.
Everyone stood. Darcy forgot the ache in his leg. Kitty came first with Georgiana. Mary and Lydia followed, an unusual pairing that had required negotiation. Lydia had promised not to walk too quickly. Mary had promised not to walk too slowly. Then Jane appeared on Mr. Bennet’s arm.
Bingley inhaled sharply. Jane’s face transformed when she saw him.
She smiled. Bingley smiled back with such uncomplicated happiness that half the congregation smiled too. Mr. Bennet brought her forward. For one brief moment he held her hand before placing it in Bingley’s.
“Take care of her,” he murmured.
“With everything I have,” Bingley said.
Mr. Bennet nodded. He returned to the church entrance.
Darcy’s heartbeat became louder.
Then Elizabeth came in.
The room disappeared. He had seen her in ball gowns, walking dresses, muddy petticoats, night-worn anxiety beside his sickbed, windblown after miles outdoors, laughing until she bent at the waist, angry enough to make her eyes flash.
He had never seen her like this. Not because the gown was finer.
Because she was walking toward him by choice. Elizabeth’s eyes found his immediately.
She smiled.
Darcy forgot to breathe.
Mr. Bennet leaned toward his daughter as they walked. “He looks terrified.”
Elizabeth whispered, “Good.” Her father nearly laughed in church.
They reached the front. Mr. Bennet looked at Darcy. The two men had already spoken all necessary words. Still, Mr. Bennet’s hand tightened around Elizabeth’s.
Darcy understood. “I know,” he said quietly.
Mr. Bennet looked at him. Then he placed Elizabeth’s hand in Darcy’s.
Her fingers were warm. Darcy closed his hand around them. Elizabeth looked at his face. “You are shaking,” she whispered.
“So are you.”
“I am not.”
He almost smiled.
The clergyman cleared his throat.
Elizabeth faced forward.
Behind them, Lydia whispered to Kitty, “La, they are doing it again.”
Mrs. Bennet hissed, “Lydia!”
The Earl coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
The ceremony began.