CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The Wedding Breakfast
Netherfield had never looked more festive.
The dining room could not contain every guest, so Bingley had ordered tables set in the ballroom as well. Greenery wound around the pillars. Early spring flowers filled silver bowls. The musicians who had played at the February ball returned and occupied the gallery.
Mrs. Bennet entered and burst into tears again. “It is beautiful.”
Mrs. Nicholls, who had not slept properly in four days, accepted the praise with dignity. Jane and Bingley sat at the centre of one long table. Elizabeth and Darcy sat beside them.
Darcy’s leg ached. Elizabeth noticed before he admitted it. “You have been standing too long.”
“I am well.”
“You are shifting your foot.”
“I am sitting.”
“You know what I mean.”
Darcy looked at her.
She pointed beneath the table. “Elevate it on the spare chair.”
“We are at our wedding breakfast.”
“And?”
“There are eighty people here.”
“Most of whom watched you arrive at Longbourn unconscious on a farm wagon, at least in imagination. Your dignity has survived worse.”
Bingley overheard and laughed.
Darcy sighed. A chair was placed beneath his foot.
Mrs. Bennet noticed from three tables away. “Oh! Is your leg paining you? Hill has the cushion in the carriage.”
Darcy closed his eyes. Elizabeth smiled. “Would you like the cushion?”
“No.”
“Yes, you would.”
“I married a tyrant.”
“You had warning.”
The cushion arrived.
Darcy used it. Lunch became speeches after the second course.
Bingley stood first. He thanked the guests, the Bennets, his sisters, the Matlocks, and finally Darcy.
“My friend has been accused of many things,” he said, smiling toward Darcy. “Some accurately.” Laughter moved through the room.
Darcy looked suspicious.
“But if he had not chosen the wrong road to London in November, none of us would be sitting here quite as we are.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. Bingley raised his glass. “To wrong roads.”
Everyone drank.
Richard stood next.
Darcy said, “No.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“I can attempt it.”
Richard grinned at the guests. “I had prepared a long speech concerning my cousin’s many virtues.”
Darcy relaxed fractionally.
“Unfortunately, I could not think of enough.”
Laughter exploded.
Darcy stared at him.
Elizabeth laughed into her napkin.
Richard continued, “I can say this: I have known Darcy nearly all my life. He has always been loyal, honourable, stubborn, grave, overprotective, occasionally insufferable, and quite incapable of doing anything halfway.”
Darcy’s expression changed.
“When he disliked Hertfordshire, he disliked it thoroughly. When he fell from a horse, he nearly died of it. And when he fell in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he apparently proposed before remembering to remain conscious.”
Even Darcy laughed then.
Richard raised his glass. “To my cousin and his wife. May she continue the difficult work of improving him.”
Elizabeth lifted her own glass. “I shall require assistance.”
The Earl called, “You have the whole family.”
Darcy shook his head.
Then Mr. Bennet stood.
The room quieted.
He disliked speeches.
Everyone knew it.
“I have spent the last several months learning that a father may be wrong about his daughters, wrong about the men they choose, and especially wrong in believing he can observe family life from the comfort of a library without participating in it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled.
Mr. Bennet looked at Jane. “My eldest daughter has always possessed a gentleness I mistook, at times, for an inability to see unpleasant truths. I was wrong. She sees them and chooses kindness when kindness remains deserved.”
Jane pressed her lips together.
He looked at Elizabeth. “My second daughter has always possessed enough opinion for several households. I have encouraged it because it amused me.”
Elizabeth laughed shakily.
“I failed to remember that wit is no substitute for wisdom, and that even Lizzy has occasionally been mistaken.”
“Papa.”
The room laughed.
Mr. Bennet smiled. “Fortunately, she has married a man who has also been mistaken with impressive confidence. They should have much to discuss.”
Darcy bowed his head in acknowledgement.
Mr. Bennet raised his glass. “To Jane and Charles. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. May you be happy enough to forgive one another’s errors and honest enough not to hide them.”
Everyone drank. Elizabeth wiped a tear from her cheek.
Darcy leaned toward her. “Your father made you cry.”
“Say nothing.”
“I would never.”
“You are enjoying it.”
“Immensely.”
She elbowed him beneath the table.
He smiled into his wine.