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The clergyman begged the indulgence of the bride, groom, and their party, and rather than duplicate the virago’s unacceptable behaviour and shout from one end of the sanctuary to the other, he approached the woman.

“Madam, you do know it is not done to shout in that fashion in the Lord’s house, do you not? ” The clergyman enquired.

“Do you know who I am? I am not used to being gainsaid! Tell me immediately where the travesty of the wedding I seek is being held,” Lady Catherine demanded. She slammed her walking stick down to emphasise her point.

“I care not if you were the Queen herself. Her Majesty at least would conduct herself with decorum, something of which you seem to know nothing,” the man riposted.

“How dare you!” Lady Catherine screeched. “I will have you sacked…”

“How DARE you, madam!” A voice interjected loudly.

“I heard your caterwauling like a common fishmonger from my office and came to put you in your place. As there is nought you can do about it, His Grace’s marriage is being solemnised at his primary estate, and the ceremony, if it has not already begun, would be about to begin.

“Begone from my church before I have your atrocious behaviour reported to the Archbishop.”

“How dare you order me out? Just who do you think you are?” Lady Catherine fumed.

“That gentleman is the Bishop of London, and as such, he has every right to order you out of this hallowed building because it is his church. Do I need to remind you that a bishop holds an equivalent rank to an earl?” the clergyman interjected.

“Unless you would like the church to take action against you, if I were you, I would retire without another word.”

Rather than allowing her mouth free rein, Lady Catherine did something she was not used to doing; she withdrew without saying anything further. Before she exited the church, she heard the clergyman apologise for the very unladylike interruption.

She was fuming as she closed the door, making sure she did not hear the man humiliate her further.

Lady Catherine knew the name of the Duke’s primary estate, Falconwood, but did not know what county it was in.

Also, unless she could sprout wings and fly, she had no chance of arriving in time to stop the chit from marrying the man who should have been hers.

Why had she not asked Lady Metcalf where the wedding would be held?

Her assumption had been a good one; someone of the rank of a duke would get married in London, not at some country estate.

She consoled herself with the thought that His Grace was ashamed of this country chit, which was the reason he was not marrying at St Paul’s like he had the first time.

She allowed one of her footmen to assist her into the chaise and then barked the order to the coachman to return to Rosings Park.

There was nothing else for her to do, other than to return to her estate and make like the past day had not happened.

As the coach began to move, Lady Catherine had a worrying thought: Reggie and Robert Darcy were the executors of her late husband’s estate!

Hence, she could only hope they would not learn of the state of de Bourgh House.

She was certain they would blame her, even though it was not her fault the servants had abandoned the house, and they would take the cost of the repairs from her portion. She could not allow that.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

As she had for more than a month since her arrival in Ireland, Jane Millar was up at the crack of dawn on the twentieth day of May.

She knew the significance of this day. She had heard enough before her banishment to know that Lizzy—Miss Bennet —was to marry her duke in the same ceremony as Miss Lucas and her Mr Barrington on this very day.

Jane washed herself with cold water from the cracked pewter basin in the tiny room she shared with Betsy, one of the upstairs maids. She was well aware that while she was preparing to carry out her cleaning duties in the house, her half-sister was preparing for her wedding.

It had not been so long a time she had been in service at Greenfield, but already Jane could see the ways she had erred so seriously.

She had come to accept the truth in the admonitions of the Duke and those of Miss Bennet.

She had decided to follow her late mother’s insane edicts because she had thought she would gain all of that which she desired.

Yes, her late mother had inculcated her from as far back as she could remember, but that did not excuse her attempt at harming her own flesh and blood.

Rather than bettering herself, like she had had a chance to do when she broke with her mother before she met her half-sisters, she had chosen what at the time, she had thought was the easiest path.

Her bitterness over not being invited to travel north was of her own making and had been stoked by her late mother.

If she had been clearheaded at the time, Jane would have understood that after just coming to know her and having seen many years of her past behaviour, her family would not trust her blindly until she had proved herself.

Rather than build trust, she had done the opposite!

She looked at herself in the faded, and in places cracked, mirror above the old chest of drawers she shared with Betsy.

Finally, Jane understood that beauty was only skin deep, that looks were not enough without a good character and accomplishments.

A strand of hair fell down across her forehead and touched her mouth.

Jane blew it to the side before she pinned her hair with the plain pins provided to the maids and placed her white maid’s cap in her hair.

She looked down at her hands. They were no longer pristine, with soft, milky-white skin.

They bore stains from some of the materials Jane had worked with, and she had a few callouses already.

If, she prayed, when the Duke saw fit to end her punishment, she would work to gain her family’s trust and do all she could to prove that she had learnt her lesson.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

In Scotland, at Glen Morgan Heights, Will Alexander was performing his morning cleaning ritual in the common room where the footmen washed and performed the rest of their ablutions.

Like a lady he had never formally met and about whom he knew very little, he was also keenly aware what the day was.

If not for his own horrendous behaviour and pomposity, he would be seated in the church at Falconwood with his parents, sister, relations, and acquaintances.

He fully accepted that he, and he alone, was responsible for his not being surrounded by luxury and familiarity, rather than being in service.

There was nothing to be gained by contemplating what he did not have, what he was missing.

He needed to do whatever he must to change.

He knew he had already begun to make significant adjustments to his character, but he would not try fooling himself that he had reached his destination already.

He still had a long and hard road to travel.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Lord Archibald Winston Chamberlain stood tall next to Mr Jamison, the vicar of the St Jude’s church in the Falconwood Village.

His brother-in-law Barrington stood behind him.

As much as he appreciated Barrington standing up for him, Hertfordshire felt a certain amount of disappointment that Colbath was not with him, even while he understood his friend’s desire to be with his Morag when she delivered their unexpected gift from God.

Not even the fact he had hardly slept the previous night dampened his good mood.

In a matter of minutes, his Lizzy would enter the church on Gardiner’s arm, with Mary following behind her.

Anthony was standing next to him, as keen to see his Charlotte as he was to see his beloved Lizzy.

Anthony’s best friend, now brother thanks to Marjorie marrying him, Lawrence Portnoy, was standing up with him.

He looked out into the congregation and saw Prince Edward and Princess Elizabeth, who were representing their parents—he acknowledged their presence with a deferential bowing of his head—next to his sister and nieces, the youngest without her husband who was with Anthony, in the front row on the left side of the altar.

Behind them were the Russells, with Hilldale unsurprisingly seated next to Marie.

The two would marry in a month, while he and Lizzy would be on their wedding trip.

As he looked about and identified many friends, not the least of whom were the Fitzwilliams and Darcys in the front row, to the right of the altar.

Four rows back from his cousins sat William Collins.

Hertfordshire was most pleased that the man had taken his words to heart.

There had been no fawning from him; rather, he behaved with decorum.

Maddie Gardiner—with the space on the aisle next to her reserved for her husband, the Phillipses, and the younger girls, including the two youngest Bennet sisters—sat behind the Russells.

Eddy, who was five, sat between his mother and Cathy.

It was no surprise that Anna Darcy sat with Cathy, Lydia, and Lilly.

The Duke smiled at his soon-to-be sisters and cousins, and they all returned warm, wide ones of their own.

The church had been decorated—by Leticia, Ladies Matlock, Anne, and Lucas, Maddie Gardiner, and Hattie Phillips—just as Lizzy and Charlotte had desired—in an understated way which would not overwhelm the congregants.

Three white roses, tied together with a white bow, adorned the end of each pew.

On either side of the nave were big vases full of blooms, predominantly roses, from Falconwood’s garden.

Who needed more with the beauty of the brides?