He gave her a telling look. “I promise you, Miss Bennet, that I shall be feeling your lack every moment of the time,” he said meaningfully, his words leaving a sensation of anticipation inside her. “But after tomorrow, there shall be no cause for separation.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Elizabeth saw that the carriage was ready. “I shall look forward to it, Mr. Darcy.”
He kissed her hand before handing her in, then watched until the carriage was out of sight. With a sigh, he returned to his study, where he hoped to make good use of the time to attend to neglected business, but it was not long before his mind was more agreeably engaged in meditating upon an absent lady. This agreeability did not last long, however, as his thoughts moved from Elizabeth herself to her absence, and by dinnertime Georgiana was ready to chide him for his dolorous appearance. The night was indeed a long one for him as he discovered just how accustomed one could become to the presence of a loved one in a few days, and his only comfort was knowing that it was their last night apart. When dawn came, he was only too glad to make an early start for Matlock and Elizabeth, and as he joined a sleepy Georgiana in the carriage, his thoughts rode ahead of them.
A little later that morning, one of the footmen sought out Robbins, the butler. “The post has come, sir,” he said, “and there are two letters for Miss Bennet. I was wondering where I should put them.”
Robbins thought for a moment; the new mistress had not yet set up a sitting room of her own, yet it would hardly be appropriate to leave them in her new chambers for her wedding night. “You may leave them with me for now,” he said. He looked at the letters, noting that they seemed to be in the same handwriting, but one had apparently been misdirected. Finally he decided that the best idea was to leave them on Mr. Darcy’s desk with his post; that way she would receive them soon enough after their return.
* * *
Matlock proved to be a charming town set on the side of a steep hill, with an attractive river running through the valley under the shadow of a large cliff. As they drove into town, Elizabeth could see the imposing spires of the cathedral on the top of the hill dominating the vista; a shiver went down her spine at the inspiring sight, thinking of what was to happen there on the morrow. The inn recommended by Mr. Darcy was not far from Cathedral Close, and after they were settled in, Mrs. Gardiner suggested to Elizabeth that they walk out to explore the town. Mr. Gardiner pleaded fatigue, leaving the ladies to set forth on their own.
“It has been some time since I have had the opportunity to spend time alone with you, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yes, the pace has been rather hectic,” Elizabeth admitted with a rueful smile. “I feel as if my affairs have quite dominated your tour, no doubt to the detriment of your plans.”
“I would not have missed this for the world,” her aunt reassured her, “though I wonder at how calmly you have taken all these changes in plans.”
Elizabeth said dryly, “Is there any point in not being calm? After all, I agreed to this.”
“Does it not trouble you that you will not have your wedding at Longbourn, with your family and friends in attendance? I have wondered if you might feel disappointed in not having the wedding of your dreams.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are confusing me with Jane, I fear. She is the one who has always dreamed of the perfect wedding; my focus has always been to marry for love, and the ceremony itself does not mean so much to me as the life that follows. But yes, I admit that I had never considered that I might marry without my father to give me away, and Jane by my side—I wish they could be here, although I do recognize that it may be just as well that the rest of the family is not! I could, after all, have insisted that we wait until my return to Longbourn to hold the wedding, but I think this may be for the best in many ways.”
“And in what way is it the best for you, my dear?”
An amused smile spread slowly over Elizabeth’s face. “It gives me very little time to think and worry about what I am undertaking; I believe that may be a great advantage!”
Her aunt looked at her in concern. “You have second thoughts, then, Lizzy?”
“Hardly second thoughts, but I must admit that I did not quite realize what I was taking on when I agreed to marry Mr. Darcy. I knew that he was wealthy and that he owned a fine estate, I knew of his relationship to Lord Derby, but I did not quite appreciate how far removed his social sphere was from mine until we started to plan the wedding. When we settled on an immediate wedding, I had pictured a simple ceremony at the parish church; it was a shock to discover that everyone at Pemberley assumed that a simple ceremony was one that took place in a cathedral, presided over by a bishop, and the major conflict being whether to include a peer of the realm in the guest list—no, I had not realized at all the extent of the differences, and I wonder what it will be like when we are in London, or entertaining at Pemberley—I can hardly conceive of it! There will be a great deal that I shall need to learn.”
“When we were at Blenheim, Lizzy, you seemed worried that he would try to control your actions. I have recently had some concerns in that regard of my own,” Mrs. Gardiner said carefully.
Anxiety coursed through Elizabeth; she had counted on the Gardiners’ good opinion of Darcy to help sway her father toward acceptance of her marriage. “What concerns have you had?”
Mrs. Gardiner was silent for a minute. “Your Mr. Darcy was apparently quite frank with your uncle about why he wished to marry you so soon.”
Elizabeth colored and looked away. “Yes, I had assumed that he might be; it is very like him. He does not care for disguise or dishonesty.”
“It seems rather out of character for you, Lizzy, which makes me wonder how he came to obtain your… cooperation, or whether in fact you did cooperate.”
Elizabeth turned to her aunt in shock. “You cannot think… No, in no way did he force me. He was only… very persuasive, and I seem to be susceptible to his form of persuasion. My susceptibility is out of character, aunt, nothing else.”
“I am relieved to hear it, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Although I cannot but disapprove of what happened, I am not without understanding of the position in which you find yourself, and I believe that mistakes are to be learned from rather than dwelt upon. I do have a concern, however, about this sudden wedding raising talk.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth said, “There will no doubt be talk; there is already talk, but I assume that it will die a natural death when I do not produce an heir to Pemberley in seven months. There is no reason for anyone outside the family to know just how quickly this occurred, and my mother will be happy to assume that we were following the London fashion by being married by license in a cathedral chapel; it will be a tale she can tell to all of her friends for years to come.” She paused, and her face became more somber. “I do not look forward to telling my father, however.”
“No, I would imagine not,” her aunt replied. “Have you and Mr. Darcy made your peace about this? I am still concerned that you may feel forced into this wedding.”
“Yes, we have made our peace,” Elizabeth said, glad that she did not have to tell her aunt precisely how that peace had been achieved. “And the truth is, aunt, that I have felt powerless over this situation for much longer than the last few days; I am becoming accustomed to it, and I have learned that my judgment and discernment are by no means so flawless as I would like to think them, and that some of those very things into which I have been forced have proven to be for the best.”
“I am reluctant to guess at what you may mean, Lizzy.”
“My entire history with Mr. Darcy is one of events proceeding against my will. I did not want Mr. Darcy to fall in love with me, yet he did; I did not want him to court me, yet he did; I did not want to fall in love with him, or even like him, yet I did; I did not want to become engaged so quickly, yet we did—there has been no part of this that has felt voluntary to me, but I would not change anything. So a less than voluntary wedding hardly comes as a shock,
I fear.” It was fortunate, Elizabeth thought, that her sense of humor was so inclined as to see sport in everything, as otherwise she might feel quite resentful.
“You are not dissatisfied, then?”
“I believe that I would have preferred to follow a more typical course, but no, I am not dissatisfied.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Mrs. Gardiner said. Pointing to a large building of white limestone, she asked, “Do you suppose that is the Bishop’s palace?”
Elizabeth responded playfully, “You could ask him tomorrow. I must say, I still cannot quite credit any of this.”
* * *
The following day began with an air of unreality about it to Elizabeth; it seemed almost as if she was play-acting at being a bride. The richness of her gown, accentuated by the sapphire necklace, felt wildly extravagant, and when Mrs. Gardiner finished the ensemble by draping a lace veil she had purchased in Lambton over her niece’s hair, as she insisted was the latest romantic vogue at London weddings, she felt that she could barely see plain Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn any longer.
Elizabeth felt surprisingly little anxiety regarding the wedding itself, but a great deal about how she would handle herself. She had never met a bishop; she was not completely certain that she understood the proper etiquette for the situation, and hoped that Georgiana would set an example that she could follow. She wished above all for a few minutes with Darcy before the ceremony, but understood that this would be an unacceptable violation of tradition.
Darcy himself was sharing the same longing. He had never realized that it was possible to miss someone as viscerally as he did Elizabeth, and knowing that she was nearby but out of reach was difficult to bear. It was a great relief when the deacon informed him that it was time for him to approach the altar, as it meant that he would soon be in her presence again, but his self-possession took something of a blow when he entered the chapel and saw a jovial-looking Lord Derby and his elegant wife sitting beside Georgiana in the box pew. He cursed inwardly, wondering who had seen fit to violate his express request that they not be informed.
Once he reached the altar, though, his mind bent back to Elizabeth as he awaited her entrance. Finally she appeared on her uncle’s arm, haloed by the bright sunlight streaming through the chapel windows, and it was not until she was half way down the aisle that he could see her clearly. He caught his breath at the vision of elegance before him, and a wave of possessive love flowed through him. To see her coming toward him, wearing his mother’s gown and the jewels he had given her, put all else from his mind; he had so long ago given himself to her, and now they were to be made one.
As she came forward to stand at his side, their eyes met for a long moment, communicating the pleasure and relief that each felt. Darcy had to struggle to turn his eyes forward again as the bishop, a splash of color in his white, red, and purple vestments, began the familiar words of the ceremony in a sonorous voice.
“… duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy name.” Darcy tensed for a moment at the mention of the one part of marriage about which he had some second thoughts, then forced the thought away. “Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.” He tried to glance unobtrusively at Elizabeth, hoping this did not distress her, but she seemed to be looking straight ahead in a calm manner. He longed to take her in his arms. “Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.” Elizabeth looked up at him at this point and smiled; the look in her eyes warmed him to his soul.
Their eyes held as the service continued, and a wave of feeling began to take Darcy as the moment of the occasion became real to him, that this was when Elizabeth would be formally bound to him for life. The bishop continued, “Fitzwilliam, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Darcy’s heart was light and his voice firm as he responded, “I will.”
“Elizabeth, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Elizabeth looked up to meet the bishop’s eyes for the first time as she said, “I will.” The bishop took her hand from her uncle and placed it over Darcy’s, and as he began to repeat his vows, she gazed up at his beloved face, knowing that he was thinking, as was she, of the night he had already spoken those words to her. The slightest of smiles crossed his face as she took him to be her wedded husband, her voice clear as she repeated the bishop’s words, “… to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”
His dark eyes held such warmth for her that she could feel her love for him rising within her as he slid the ring upon her finger. It might have been only the two of them in the world as he said, meaning each word with every fibre of his being, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
They knelt for the prayer, and suddenly it no longer mattered to Elizabeth that the marriage had been rushed, that her family was far away; all that mattered was the man at her side. The bishop joined their hands again, and said the words over them, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”
It is done, thought Darcy. After all this time, after all the pain, it is done. He had never before appreciated how difficult it could be for the newly wed couple to wait patiently through the prayers, blessings, and psalms, while their feelings ran so high. He wished he could carry her off to Pemberley right at that moment, not knowing how he could bring himself to make the social conversation necessary at the end of the service. When it was finally concluded, as they walked together down the aisle, he bent his head to whisper to her, “At last, Mrs. Darcy.” The pleasure it gave him to say those words was beyond measure.
She turned her lively eyes on him. “At last, Mr. Darcy.”
At the chapel door their families came to meet them, and Darcy made the introductions, almost slipping once when he presented the Gardiners to Lord and Lady Derby as “Miss Be… Mrs. Darcy’s aunt and uncle.” She smiled up at him mischievously.
Lord Derby shook his nephew’s hand with gusto, offering his congratulations. Darcy said, “I am of course delighted to see you, uncle, but I do wonder how you were informed of the proceedings.”
Lord Derby laughed heartily. “Let me see—I was informed by my cousin the bishop, and by your sister, and by your housekeeper. I am, in fact, an extraordinarily well-informed man, except, perhaps, by you.”
“The notice was very short, sir, and I did not wish to cause any inconvenience,” Darcy said smoothly.
“William,” said Lady Derby, “might I have a word with you?” She drew Darcy apart from the others, abandoning Elizabeth to the company of Lord Derby.
“So, Mrs. Darcy, I need your help to settle an argument between my wife and me,” he said jovially.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, a shock still running through her at the sound of her new name. “I would be happy to be of assistance if I may, Lord Derby.”
“Tell me, then, when did you and my wayward nephew meet?”
&
nbsp; She blinked in surprise at the question. “I believe we first saw one another in mid-October of last year, but it would have been another week or more before we were formally introduced.”
“October!” he snorted in disbelief. “October—I cannot believe it!”
“I assure you that I remember it clearly,” Elizabeth said smoothly, though I do not think that I shall tell you what your nephew said on that memorable occasion. “I am not sure why you find it quite surprising; I believe that October is as fine a month as any other to meet.”
He laughed at her pertness, and said, “Well, we both lose the argument then. My wife guessed that it was a month ago; I thought no more than two weeks. Who would have thought October?”
Both of Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in response to this. “Two weeks! That hardly seems likely.”
“Well, you would know best, I suppose,” he allowed, “but we have always said that when young William finally made up his mind, he would nab the young lady in question and marry her without further ado, and when we heard about today, it seemed only logical to think that our predictions had been correct. I am seriously disappointed.” He shook his head.
“You seem to assume, Lord Derby, that the young lady in question would consent to be nabbed,” replied Elizabeth with spirit.
“Oho!” he exclaimed. “So that is the way the land lies, then! Gave him his comeuppance, did you? Good for you—he was certainly overdue. Too many beautiful women throwing themselves at him for years, you know,” he said with a confidential air.
“Well, if it makes you happier, we have only been engaged for two weeks,” Elizabeth allowed.
“That is a relief—that is more the William we know! So he did not propose to you the first time he saw you?” he asked, sounding like a child denied a long-expected treat.