Page 40 of A Maid of No Consequence (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
FROM LOVE TO MATRIMONY
E lizabeth was expecting silence. Instead, a voice rang out in the Kympton chapel, reverberating through the stones and back again. “Heaven and earth! What are you thinking of Darcy, binding yourself to this unfeeling and selfish girl! I will not allow it! Never!”
The echo of Lady Catherine’s voice thundered in Elizabeth’s head, causing her to put her hands to her ears, and cry out in a voice that sounded nothing like hers.
At the next moment, she felt strong hands on her arms, followed by a not-so-gentle shaking of her person.
A familiar name broke through the haze, “Elizabeth! Wake up, my love!”
Darcy’s face came into full view, just inches from her own. She blinked repeatedly, until her eyes had adjusted to the light, and she felt the rumble and shaking of…a carriage?
“I had not the pleasure of your well-amplified voice, until today, my love.” His lips quirked; he was teasing her .
She rubbed her eyes. “We are on the road–”
“To Dovedale, yes. And you, my dear wife, were in a place very far away.”
Elizabeth reached up to her head, realising with some embarrassment that her well-coiffed hair was surely a mess by now. She could feel the flattened left side, where she must have leant on her husband. Husband!
A picture of the day came back to mind very clearly. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not quite an hour.”
“I apologise. How rude of me.” Ruder still, she yawned, in his presence! She reached up to cover her mouth.
His brows carried a look of worry. “You were very tired, Elizabeth, no doubt from your lack of sleep. We shall blame it on those sisters of yours.”
She laughed, and sat up a little straighter, tugging at the wrinkles in her travelling gown. “Indeed! Between the laughter and the bickering and a late-night assignation in the kitchens, I own that I am very tired. But very happy.”
“Do you remember what you dreamt of?”
She did indeed remember, as it had been something of a recurrence every night for the last few weeks. “It is nothing. At least, nothing to worry about now.” She looked down at the gold wedding band on her left hand. “We have done it. We are wed.”
“Indeed, we are.” He reached over to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“My husband .” She turned to him, and reached up to touch his handsome face. His visage, and the feel of him beneath her hand, would be something she would never tire of .
“You were a vision, Elizabeth. Seeing you walk to me, to be my wife...” He shook his head. “It is something I will not forget for the rest of my days. I am the most fortunate of men.”
She felt herself equally as fortunate, for just hours before, her arm had been on Lord Matlock’s as she stepped softly down the stone aisle of the Kympton chapel, flanked by a small group of family, friends, and servants on either side.
She had looked down to see her soft silk slippers peeping out beneath her gown, feeling very much the maiden of a fairytale walking to her future.
She had to smile, as Sarah’s words to her had come to fruition.
She was indeed walking towards her very own ‘prince’.
She looked up to see the man she loved more than anything, looking even more handsome than she remembered him.
Wearing his deep blue velvet jacket, he was staring at her so intensely she had to catch her breath.
Studying Darcy’s face, she found there a look of tenderness and vulnerability, creating a similar swell of emotion in her. This is where I now belong.
As she stepped even closer, she had seen his eyes fill with deepened emotion, a sheen of tears forming.
She grasped his hand as he held it out to her.
It was warm and comforting on this brisk November morning, and all else seemed to fall away.
Staring up at Darcy’s profile, she could barely keep her focus on the curate’s words as she admired the distinct and handsome features she had committed to memory.
She loved this man, utterly and completely.
At that very moment, he turned to her, and if there were a wordless way to convey the breadth and depth of his love through one gentle and tender look, he had just succeeded.
Her nerves calmed, and her heart knew this was the start of something more than just a fairytale, or a passing romance.
This was a deep and lasting love. She felt Darcy’s hand squeeze hers, and only one thought came through so distinctly, so clearly, between the drone of the curate’s voice, and the fragments of sentiment running through her mind. This is where I have always belonged.
In the early hours on the fourth day of their marriage, Elizabeth stirred awake.
It was a sunless morning; a diffused grey light was casting a strange glow throughout the room.
Listening to the patter of rain against the panes, intermingled with the soft sounds of Darcy’s breathing, Elizabeth could not help the thoughts swirling within her.
With her head resting on her husband’s chest, she sighed contentedly. “What do you think will become of us?”
Darcy let out a low rumble of a chuckle, and Elizabeth could feel it under her cheek, “What kind of question is that, my love? Have you turned maudlin on me, in so short a time?”
She lifted her head to gaze at him, his eyes still closed, looking so relaxed and content, with none of his customary reserve.
This was her Mr Darcy, in the flesh. Not the imaginings of a young girl from Hertfordshire.
She could hardly believe this was her life now, after so long a struggle to find peace and purpose.
“Not maudlin…just contemplating our future, where we have come from, and the road we took to get here. It is a singular story of how we fell in love, do you not think?”
His eyes were closed now, his breathing becoming more pronounced. “You are sleeping? ”
He roused slightly, and gave her a sweet and slightly lopsided grin. “I have heard everything you have said, my love…something about a singular story.”
She sighed wistfully. “Will our lives be remarkable, do you think?” His eyes still closed, she reached up to softly caress her husband’s rather splendid face, with a few days’ growth of a beard.
It felt strange under her palm, prickly and sharp, in contrast to his freshly shaven face from their wedding day.
He reached up to put his hand on hers, “Elizabeth, my love…we are already remarkable.”
“Are we?”
“We are the love story of the ages.” He turned his full attention on her now.
“In fact, I have every suspicion that our story will be told centuries into the future…and young girls will swoon, as they read all about how the very lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn tried resisting the charms of an exceedingly handsome Master of Pemberley.”
She laughed softly, and laid her head back down on his chest. “And how he was so besotted with a maid of no consequence?”
“Oh, but you are mistaken on that point, my love.”
“Hmmm, am I? I am rarely wrong, Darcy.”
He looked down at her, smiling at the woman who had become his wife in the most circuitous way, and kissed her tenderly on the tip of her nose. “You were always of the utmost importance to me.”