Chapter 24 #2
Darcy placed the ring on her finger and spoke the final words steadily, his eyes on hers the whole time. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
“Those whom God hath joined together,” the minister said, “let no man put asunder.”
It was done almost before Elizabeth had fully absorbed that it was happening. The minister pronounced them man and wife, and the small congregation behind them made a soft collective sound of approval, and Mr Bingley, predictably, was already wiping his eyes.
Mr Gardiner watched her with the steady affection of a man who had known her since she was a child and was entirely satisfied with where she had landed.
Mrs Gardiner cried quietly into her handkerchief.
Georgiana held Mrs Annesley’s hand and beamed the whole time.
Mary stood very straight and watched as though determined to remember every detail.
They signed the register in the vestry. Darcy’s hand was steady, Elizabeth’s considerably less so. When it was done, she found herself, astonishingly, Mrs Darcy.
“That,” she said as they walked toward the waiting carriage, “happened a great deal faster than I had any reason to expect.”
“You are not displeased, I hope.”
“No,” Elizabeth said softly, “I should not have wished to wait another moment.”
At that, her new husband smiled at her in a way that made her knees weak.
The wedding breakfast at Darcy House was a lively affair, despite how quickly it had been planned.
There was cheerful chaos, lively conversation, and congratulations in every direction.
Mrs Stark presided over a spread that had clearly been assembled on very little notice and was nonetheless excellent.
Bingley spent most of the meal describing Netherfield’s improvements to Mr Gardiner, who listened with more patience than the drainage of the lower meadow deserved.
Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Annesley fell into easy conversation, and Mary sat next to Georgiana.
The two of them spoke quietly of the pianoforte with their heads bent together over an imaginary score only they could see.
The Gardiner children had come along too, brought by their nurse for the occasion, and Edward had appointed himself to a position of considerable importance near the head of the table.
He found Darcy at a lull in the conversation and announced, with the gravity such matters required, that he was now officially his cousin.
“I am,” Darcy agreed.
“And you are Cousin Lizzy’s husband.”
“I distinctly remember making promises to that effect this morning.”
“Will you make her happy?”
Darcy considered this with appropriate seriousness. “That is a difficult thing to do for anyone,” he said. “But I intend to do my very best.”
Edward appeared entirely satisfied with this answer, and having settled the matter to his own satisfaction, returned his full attention to the cake, of which he had already had two pieces and clearly intended to have a third.
For all the warmth and noise, no one forgot that the occasion could not be leisurely. They would leave for Portsmouth the following morning. There was a missing man to find and a cousin attempting to seize an estate, and very little time to waste on either.
Late in the afternoon, when most of the guests had gone, Elizabeth found a quiet moment with Darcy in the small sitting room beside the library.
“We are married,” she said, settling into the chair across from him.
“We are.”
“It does not feel quite real yet.”
“It will,” he said. “Possibly somewhere on the road to Portsmouth, when you are tired of my company and realise you cannot send me home.”
She laughed. “I doubt I shall ever tire of your company, though I reserve the right to revise my opinion if you prove a very noisy sleeper.”
“My valet assures me I am not.”
“We shall see.”
He reached for her hand. She gave it to him, and for a little while neither of them said anything, content to sit together as the evening came on outside.
“I keep thinking about my father,” Elizabeth said eventually. “He does not know any of this has happened. He does not know about Mr Collins, or about you, or that I am sitting here tonight as your wife. He has missed all of it.”
“With luck, we will appraise him of everything soon,” Darcy said. “I suspect he will have a great deal to say about how quickly it occurred.”
“He will be insufferable about it.”
“Almost certainly.”
“He will ask whether I considered it carefully. I shall have to tell him I considered it for the better part of eight months, beginning with a field and a shilling, and he will say that does not count because I did not know I was considering it.” She smiled.
“He will be right. He generally is, when he is being difficult.”
Darcy lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Then we had better find him quickly,” he said, “so you may have the argument in person. I think you would enjoy that more.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “Let us do precisely that.”
Tomorrow there would be a long road, an uncertain search, and a missing man at the end of it, if they were fortunate enough to find him at all. But tonight there was only this. Together, exactly where they had each decided they most wanted to be.
The house grew quiet around them as the evening deepened.
The servants withdrew. The candles burned low and were not relit.
What passed between husband and wife that night belonged to them alone.
It was enough to say that when morning came, Elizabeth woke in Darcy’s arms, with the first light beginning at the window, and could not remember the last time she had felt so entirely content.
He was already awake, watching her with an expression she had no trouble reading at all.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” he said. “Or perhaps I shall indulge myself to say, Mrs Darcy.”
“Good morning.” She studied his face for a moment. “You look very pleased with yourself.”
“I have a great deal to be pleased about.”
“We have a long journey ahead of us today.”
“We do.” He did not look in any hurry to begin it. “But, my love, we need not get up quite yet.”
“Excellent,” Elizabeth said, and felt him take her hand in his. “I should like nothing better than to linger a little longer here with you.”
She lay there a moment longer, entirely happy, before the day began to press in: carriages, packing, and the road to Portsmouth waiting beyond the window.
But there would be time enough for all of that. For now, there was only the quiet room, the early light, her husband beside her, and the settled certainty that whatever lay ahead, she would not face it alone.