Chapter 8
EIGHT
The ceremony was quick, and Lydia was declared Mrs Stone without any of the fanfare she had once expected of her wedding day.
She had previously dreamt of standing up in Longbourn church with a faceless, red-coated groom, the envy of all her sisters and friends, but the actual occasion was much more subdued.
If she had any regret, it was marrying so far from home, for she could not be disappointed in her groom.
Mr Stone—Harold, he insisted she call him now—had watched her approach him at the altar with a humbling amount of wonder in his eyes, setting Lydia to blush.
His vows were spoken with no less awe as he slipped a ring on her finger, and she found herself amazed anew that he apparently considered himself the lucky one in this endeavour.
The only damper on the occasion were Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, who had stood up with them, yet remained aloof with one another. While the clergyman had droned on prior to the vows, Lydia had caught Mr Darcy observing Elizabeth with so much longing that it caused her a pang.
Surely something could be done; she owed her sister that much. But what?
As Lydia bent down to sign her maiden name for the final time, Harold commented, “You appear preoccupied, Mrs Stone.”
Finishing her signature with a flourish, she admitted, “I suppose I am.”
“Not repenting your choice already, I hope?”
Hearing the note of doubt in his voice, Lydia set down her quill and reached for him. He was quick to take hold of her hand, seeking comfort. “Not in the least, I assure you. I am merely worried about Lizzy and Mr Darcy.”
“Oh?”
“I am not sure if you have noticed, but they are quite in love with one another and…” Lydia proceeded to tell him the entire story, including the remorse she felt for unintentionally wrenching them apart, and finished with, “…now it seems hopeless.”
Harold stroked the back of Lydia’s hand with his thumb as he looked into the middle distance. The couple in question were standing on opposite sides of a small group, each determinedly paying attention to the reverend as he wheezed on about something or other.
“It seems to me that all they truly require is an opportunity to clear the air.”
“Aye, but they avoid one another as if afraid of catching the plague!”
“Then perhaps a touch of trickery is required.” Harold gave her a wink before turning away and calling out, “I say, Mr Darcy, I have a small concern about the contract.”
Mr Darcy, apparently startled at being addressed, withdrew his gaze from Elizabeth and blinked at Harold from a short distance away. “I am sure my solicitor can answer any questions you may have.”
“I would prefer to take care of it today, if you do not mind. You are coming to the breakfast, are you not?”
Mr Darcy’s eyes darted to Elizabeth, who was supposedly still enthralled with the clergyman’s ongoing blather. “I had not intended to.”
“Well, then, you must change your mind. You shall have a slice of cake for your troubles.”
Grunting his agreement, Mr Darcy took another longing look at Elizabeth before excusing himself to call his carriage.
“My goodness, sir, I had no idea you had such a capacity for speech!” Lydia said with a laugh.
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Mr Darcy is not nearly as pretty as you, my dear.”