Page 76 of Count the Cost (The Secrets of Elizabeth Bennet #2)
E lizabeth had left her curtains open for this, the very last night in her childhood bedchamber, and the early morning sunlight lanced through the window.
She stirred sleepily, hearing the noise from the rest of the house forming a crescendo much earlier than usual.
Mama’s voice predominated, of course, her words becoming discernible as there was a tap at her bedroom door, and Emily carefully carried in a tray of tea and buttered toast for her.
This was luxury here, of course, although Elizabeth had become used to the morning tray at Oakfield.
Mama was bewailing her nerves, certain the wedding breakfast would not be ready on time and the Countess of Matlock would be displeased with everything and everybody.
“Shut the door, please, Emily,” Elizabeth sighed. Peace and calm was what she longed for but it was unlikely to happen here. However, this was her last morning as a daughter of the house. If she came again, it would be with William beside her as guests.
“Yes, Miss Bennet.” Emily smiled faintly, and crossed to the wardrobe to carefully lift out Elizabeth’s wedding gown, and hung it from the hook. “But first, I have set the staff to filling your bath and I think it will be ready when you have finished your tea.”
“Thank you, Emily. Have you had time to pack your own things? Mr. Darcy’s second coach will have room for it, and you will travel with Mr. Maunder.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. All is ready. When you have bathed, I will pack the remainder of your things, and the trunk will be ready to be taken down.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth slipped on her robe and sat at her window which looked out over the orchard. Her eyes misted over as she recalled her walk with William the previous day, and the way he had entrusted her with his mother’s story. Another tap at her door heralded Charlotte.
“Good morning, Eliza. I am here to ensure everything goes smoothly for you this morning.” She laughed and shook her head. “Your mother has already berated me for not persuading you that her idea of lace around the neckline of your gown was a good notion of hers!”
“Good morning, Charlotte! I think Emily expected you here nice and early as there is a second cup on the tray. And have some toast as well. There is far too much just for me.”
She turned and examined her friend’s gown carefully as Charlotte hung it beside the wedding gown. “Yes, we were right, that colour is perfect on you. I hope you agree.”
“You chose it so we would complement each other, you and I.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows.
“I would not have suggested it had it not suited you, though. And it is very becoming.”
Charlotte blushed. “I have never had a gown so fine. And old rose is a lovely name for the colour. I think I might wear it for my wedding, you know.”
It gave Elizabeth real comfort that after their wedding Charlotte and her betrothed would soon be established at Oakfield, the very house which had sheltered Elizabeth during her own season of change.
She was glad Charlotte had changed her mind about retaining the house.
And being engaged suited Charlotte; she was utterly radiant.
Charlotte’s voice disturbed her reflection. “But come, the morning advances and you have an earlier ceremony than is usual, because Mr. Darcy is concerned that you reach London before dark.”
Very soon, it was time to dress. Elizabeth wondered what Darcy was thinking, as his last hour as a bachelor approached. She smiled mischievously; he had spent the last week asking anxiously if he might wear the spinel stickpin or might it not match Elizabeth’s choice of colour for her gown.
She had smiled at him, and risen on tiptoe to press her lips to his cheek. “I insist that you wear it, but I can reassure you that I will not be dressed as a scarlet woman.”
As she descended the stairs, there was an audible gasp from the assembled family and servants in the hallway.
“Lizzy, you are beautiful.” Papa dashed a hand across his eyes. “I must admit when you told me what colour you were wearing, I was a little concerned, but this is — magnificent!”
“Totally regal and elegant.” Mary surprised Elizabeth and moved forward to kiss her sister. “You are stunning.”
It seemed that Mary had known what Jane would have said, had she still been a Bennet and living at Longbourn. Elizabeth missed her.
“Thank you all,” Elizabeth looked round. “I can hardly believe that I will never return here as a Bennet.”
Papa cleared his throat. “Let us not get maudlin quite yet. There is time for that when we reach the church.” He turned to his wife.
“Come along, Mrs. Bennet, you must take the girls with you and settle in the pew. Remember, not a word about Lizzy’s gown. Let her surprise them all.”
He winked at the younger girls. “I want you to watch Mr. Darcy carefully when he catches sight of Lizzy. Then you can tell her at the breakfast how he appeared.”
“Oh, yes, my dear. Not a word shall be said!” Mama turned and chivvied Elizabeth’s sisters out to the Bennet coach.
Now only Elizabeth and Charlotte and her father remained.
He turned to her friend. “Miss Lucas, I am very pleased you are here to attend Lizzy. You have been an excellent friend to her, especially these last months, and you are exactly what she needs, even down to agreeing to complement her colour choice today. You look very well today, and I am sure your family will agree with me.”
“And me,” Elizabeth leaned over and gave her a gentle hug, mindful of the need not to crease their gowns.
“Then let us go out to the coach now.” Papa had consulted his watch. “We will arrive at just the right moment.” William’s best coach waited for them outside, her betrothed insisting that only the best conveyance was right for his bride on her journey to church on this momentous day.
As they waited for the right moment in the porch, Charlotte fussed around Elizabeth for a moment, straightening her gown, and carefully handing her the small posy. Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure to drop it, Charlotte, so you don’t need to be that careful!”
“Do not dare, Eliza! That would put me in grave trouble with Mr. Darcy, you know that.”
“It will not, but I do promise to take care.” Elizabeth settled herself with her posy, looking at it, determined to enjoy it for now; she knew the rare white camellia in the centre would not keep well, however much she tried; so she would enjoy its symbolism today — adoration.
William had asked her to carry it, and had supervised all the transport arrangements with the London hothouse.
She wanted to think only of him, on this day that would never be repeated. How strange that she had once thought she would never marry, and today — well today, she could imagine no higher joy than to join together with William.
As she entered the nave on her father’s arm, she heard gasps, sighs and murmurs from the congregation, but her gaze was fixed on William, waiting for her at the steps to the chancel.
He stood straight and tall, his lean frame clad in a perfectly tailored morning suit, his cousin beside him, resplendent in scarlet uniform; a gaudy foil to William’s understated sophistication.
He was a little too far away to see his expression, but from the tension in his figure, she knew she had taken him by surprise.
Charlotte behind her, she proceeded along the aisle on Papa’s arm, knowing the heavy satin gown in the deepest claret shimmered into varied jewel shades as she moved.
There was only the tiniest amount of lace at the cuffs, and the embroidered old rose ribbons from the same fabric as Charlotte’s gown were her only other adornment.
The murmuring of the congregation was very satisfying, but the only opinion that mattered was that of her almost-husband, and now that she was closer, she could see that his eyes were dark with admiration and passion.
As they reached the steps, he turned and walked beside her up into the chancel, and she knew that she could never have dreamed of such happiness.
As they halted before the altar, she smiled lovingly at him, then turned and gave her posy to Charlotte, then removed her gloves and gave them to her friend as well.
William’s eyes were dark with emotion and they turned to old Mr. Stephenson, who had been the vicar here since before she was born, and who had conducted her parent’s marriage, and baptised and confirmed all their daughters, too.
How fitting that he should solemnise her wedding as he had conducted Jane’s.
The service began, and after the introductory words, the vicar turned to William, who half turned to face her and as they listened, he met her gaze.
“Fitzwilliam Henry, 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, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
William’s voice, clear and confident, rang out through the church. “I will.”
Elizabeth felt her legs weaken, the adoration in his voice declaring to the world that he loved her. She fought to stand upright, never removing her gaze from his, as she responded to the next statement. She trusted him, trusted and loved him.
She was brought back to the ceremony as Mr. Stephenson spoke next. “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?” And she turned back slightly, smiling at her Papa, who seemed misty-eyed.
Papa reached to take her hand, and passed it to the vicar, who on receiving it, turned slightly towards William, who took Elizabeth’s right hand in his. Then he spoke his vows with deep sincerity.
“I, Fitzwilliam Henry take thee Elizabeth Charlotte to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” His eyes burned, and Elizabeth swallowed.
She realised now the depths of this man and how much he had held back for her comfort during their betrothal period.
Then it was her turn. She took his right hand in hers, and attempted to speak her own vows with the same depth and sincerity.
The sounds of sniffles from behind them seemed to show that they were not the only affected ones, and William smiled as he placed his mother’s wedding ring on her finger.
“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.” Then, in a departure from the service, he took her hand, bearing the ring, and lifted it briefly to his mouth, and her ungloved hand burned at the touch of his lips.
They knelt for the prayers, and then Mr. Stephenson fulfilled the rest of the service, finally, finally pronouncing the words over them that she knew William had been waiting for.
“…and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together …”
The service was over, the register signed, and together — together — she and William walked down the aisle, each acknowledging those who had been so important to them: the families, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Mr. Bingley and Jane, Georgiana, the Countess of Matlock, and many of her friends and neighbours from Meryton.
Elizabeth wished Lady Palmer had been well enough to travel.
In the rearmost pews, Mr. Reed and Mr. Joseph Reed bowed their heads respectfully as they passed.
Mama had outdone herself for the wedding breakfast, and Elizabeth could barely contain her joy and behave with composure, but she knew the attendance of the countess needed her to behave rather more decorously than she would otherwise.
Lady Matlock certainly lent the occasion an air of formality.
She kissed Elizabeth lightly on the cheek.
“You look very well, Elizabeth. Gardiner’s has done you proud.
I think when you wear that gown at your first ball of the season, you will set all of society aflutter.
” She smiled kindly. “You both look very happy and I wish you much joy.”
Elizabeth was happy and content. William stayed by her side, his manner lighter than his usual reserve, and his happiness also evident. He bent towards her. “I look forward to being able to leave and be alone with you on the journey.”
She glanced up at him and smiled. “Very soon, William. We can leave very soon.”
A chuckle beside them drew her attention. “Papa.”
Her father’s gaze was loving. “Elizabeth, Darcy, I hope that before you leave, you might spare me a few moments in my bookroom.”
“Of course, Papa,” Elizabeth could feel William close beside her. He would be there whenever she needed him.