Page 73

D arcy knew that walking down the aisle with his wife had been the happiest moment of his life and, as they stood outside the church on the steps, the bells pealing out their joy, and the rest of the congregation spilling out around them, he knew that each day might bring him happier moments, yet none might be as memorable as this.

He kept Elizabeth’s hand on his arm as people flocked around them. But gradually, the guests began leaving for the castle just beyond the walls.

He handed Elizabeth up into the open chaise, and climbed in beside her. “I am sorry we have such a short journey to the wedding breakfast, Elizabeth. I thought it might be too soon to tell your father that we would take a ride around the town to give us some time together.”

She leaned close against him, and his heart stopped. “I think you were right to consider him. We will have to bear our impatience until later, my dear.”

He swallowed. “My dearest, dearest Elizabeth. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for agreeing to become my wife.”

Her nearness was fogging his senses, the scent of lavender so much a part of her that he would never scent it again without feeling she was near.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I will have to move away — not because I wish to, but because I will not be myself at the wedding breakfast if I cannot compose myself.”

Her smile was mischievous. “Well, if you move along the seat, I might move along too, until you run out of room!”

“Have mercy upon me, Mrs. Darcy!” He fended her off, laughing — until she stopped, her face changing.

“What is it, Elizabeth? Have I upset you?”

She reached for him. “Oh, not at all. I was just surprised at hearing myself called Mrs. Darcy.”

He placed his arm around her shoulder. “I wanted you to be Mrs. Darcy, although I know that you will always be Lady Elizabeth.”

“Lady Elizabeth Darcy,” she said, apparently content, and he drew her closer before reluctantly moving away, already acutely feeling the space between them.

The receiving line was mercifully short, although the passing guests seemed endless.

Darcy bent down to Elizabeth during a rare pause in the proceedings. “Only for you. You know I would do this for no one else.”

Her eyes danced up at him. “I am grateful to you. I think anyone who was pleased at the thought would not have made me a good husband.” Her fingers stole into his hand. “You know who I wish to speak to first, I presume?”

Darcy inclined his head. “Your papa stands by the window with the Bingleys and Gardiners. I have no doubt your father will find someone to converse with.”

He wanted nothing more than the day to be over and to be leaving with Elizabeth to start their new lives. But he must remain, must be sociable, and must please their many guests from the first circles, as well as family and close friends.

He stood beside Bingley a short while later as Elizabeth spoke to Bennet and Mrs. Bingley about Longbourn and the news from there.

“I understand Mr. Collins is making quite a nuisance of himself by letter to Mr. Bennet,” Bingley spoke quietly.

Darcy raised his brows enquiringly, and Bingley shrugged. “I understand his patroness is incensed at the possibility Collins won’t remain the heir to Longbourn, and she’s put it into his head that he ought to be there at the birth to be certain a boy is not substituted for another daughter.”

“That is outrageous.” Darcy could scarce believe it. “The next thing she will do is try to insist on appointing a midwife to be present who will be able to assert the child is not Bennet’s.”

Bingley glanced up, amused. “And that is exactly what the latest missive demanded. We heard this morning at Briarwood, and kept the news from you so we didn’t spoil your day.

But Mr. Bennet thinks he ought to leave soon after you do as Mrs. Bennet is beside herself, thinking such a person may spirit away the child if it is a son. ”

Darcy grimaced. “Are you travelling down with him?”

Bingley nodded. “Jane is anxious to be of assistance as much as possible.”

“The child is not due to be born for some months yet.” Darcy thought quickly.

“Our tour will be over and we might impose upon you to stay at Netherfield. Elizabeth may then attend Mrs. Bennet with her sister. Lady Catherine would not dare to imply that Mrs. Darcy was an accomplice to anything underhanded. After all, as the daughter of a duke, she outranks my aunt in every particular.”

“I think that might be a very good idea.” Bingley was watching the group. “The Gardiners seem concerned as well.”

“Of course, they now reside in Derbyshire, so it will be harder for them than town,” Darcy said absently.

“But there is enough time to ensure that Lady Catherine is unable to ruin the occasion for the family.” He clapped Bingley on the shoulder.

“I quite understand Bennet’s wish to leave promptly, and that you will wish to go, too.

So I’ll ask my uncle to arrange for Briarwood to be closed up.

Then you don’t have to worry. He and my aunt are returning to Hayden Hall with Richard and Georgiana until we conclude our tour. ”

Finally — finally — it was time. Elizabeth returned from her chamber upstairs, ready to leave with him, and Darcy offered her his arm.

The duke came to the coach to see them away, and Darcy could see he was assessing the level of security in the coach behind their own.

Elizabeth reached up to her father, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Father. You have given us a memorable day, one I’ll never forget.” She hesitated. “Do I write to you here, or will you be returning to town?”

“I’ll be remaining here, Elizabeth,” her father’s voice was gruff. “But you do not write to me. You are on your wedding tour, and need to look forward to the future with your husband now. You have chosen well, and I am delighted for you.”

Darcy bowed to him. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will take the greatest care of her.”

“Get along with you, Darcy.” The duke waited until they had climbed into the coach, and then he leaned in the window. “And I don’t expect you to call me Your Grace again except in public. Call me Father.”

Darcy swallowed. What great changes had happened to this man’s attitude. He was fortunate. “I am honoured, Father.”