Page 41

CHAPTER 41

A Wedding

28 OCTOBER 1811

T uesday morning dawned clear and bright, the perfect day for a wedding.

Elizabeth dressed in her best day dress, a pale primrose colour that brought out the gold flecks in her hair.

She had risen early in the morning, bathed and dressed, and was nearly ready before her mother entered her room to check on her progress.

Mrs. Gardiner had taken time with Elizabeth that morning, offering gentle, honest answers to the questions her niece still had about the marriage bed—especially after enduring her mother’s rather alarming version of the subject the night before.

That conversation had done little to reassure her, but Mrs. Gardiner’s calm, practical explanation had eased her concerns.

Before parting, she left Elizabeth with one final piece of advice: above all, she should trust her husband and allow him to guide the way.

“Communication is the key in this, as well as all things in your marriage,” she had said.

“If you and your husband can talk to each other, then problems will be solved much more efficiently and with fewer hurt feelings—for either party. ”

Elizabeth had nodded at this, but before she could reflect further, her mother had come bustling in.

“Oh, good, Lizzy, you are dressed,” Mrs. Bennet said.

“Come downstairs, your father wishes to speak to you. I suppose it is good you are not travelling to London yet,” she said as she looked about the room.

“You have hardly had time to pack all your things, and I suppose you must do that soon.”

Mrs. Bennet paused and turned to face her daughter, her expression unusually solemn.

“You have made a very good match, Lizzy,” she said, surprising Elizabeth with the seriousness in her tone.

“Despite what your father always claimed, I used to worry you would have trouble finding someone willing to marry you, what with all that time he let you spend alone in his book room, saying whatever came to your mind.”

She gave a small, almost sheepish smile.

“But it seems Mr. Darcy likes you in spite of that…or perhaps because of it. He is a fine man, and from what I have seen, he truly enjoys your liveliness.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Elizabeth said, torn between amusement and gratitude.

A smile tugged at her lips, but she kept her tone gentle.

“That means more than you might think.”

Mrs. Bennet sniffed, already blinking away the emotion threatening to betray her.

“Well, it is no less than the truth. I daresay you’ll do quite well as Mrs. Darcy. Just remember to write to your poor mother once you have gone off to that grand estate of his.”

Elizabeth laughed softly.

“I promise you shall hear from me often, perhaps more than you might like.”

Mrs. Bennet huffed, though her eyes shone.

“Nonsense. A mother can never hear too often from her children. I do understand why you kept your engagement a secret, but I wish I could have shared in your happiness for longer. Regardless, you will do well.” She dried her eyes again.

“Go, see your father but tell him to hurry. The Gardiners and your younger sisters have already departed for the church and our carriage is waiting for us. Jane is downstairs as well.”

Bennet had only a few words for his favourite child on her wedding day, and within a few minutes they had boarded the carriage and were on their way to the Longbourn chapel.

As they approached, they were surprised to hear the sound of yelling.

“You cannot marry my cousin,” they heard a strange nasally voice yell out.

The answer, in a more modulated tone, could not be heard.

It only was a moment later when the coach stopped, and Bennet hopped down first, without waiting for the step to be placed.

A footman arrived only a moment later, and Elizabeth, seeing her intended standing outside next to a tall, rather heavy-set stranger, followed behind him, displacing her mother.

Mrs. Bennet did not mind and allowed the footman to help her down last and went to see the melee.

“Mr. Collins,” they heard Bennet mutter, and Elizabeth immediately closed her eyes in mortification at being related to the man, despite having never met him before.

“I am not engaged to my cousin, nor are you engaged to yours,” Darcy stated, obviously not for the first time.

“Mr. Collins,” Bennet said, approaching the group standing outside the church.

“Why are you here?”

“I have come to stop this travesty from happening,” he said.

“Mr. Darcy cannot marry Miss Bennet when he is already engaged to Miss Anne de Bourgh, the daughter of my patroness.”

“I am not, nor have I ever been, engaged to my cousin,” Darcy said.

“Would you like to see the marriage contract, signed by my father and Mr. Bennet more than five years ago? My father could not have signed two as I have already told you and Mr. Barington multiple times.”

“I object to this wedding,” Mr. Collins declared once more, puffing himself up with self-righteous indignation.

“Your objection is noted,” said Mr. Barington, the rector of Longbourn Church, his tone polite but firm.

“However, as it is without merit, we shall proceed. Miss Elizabeth is present and willing, her father has given his permission, and Mr. Darcy has shown that he is free to marry as he wishes. As a rector yourself, you know that is all that is required.” He turned his back to the man and said to the rest. “If you would all make your way inside, we will begin the ceremony.”

The guests began moving towards the church entrance, but Mr. Barington stepped to the side and held out a hand, stopping Mr. Collins in his tracks.

“Not you, Mr. Collins,” he said, voice cool with restraint.

“You have made your objection known, but as you have no valid grounds, you will not be admitted. I cannot trust you to remain silent, and I will not allow you to disrupt this wedding.”

Mr. Collins sputtered with indignation, but before he could respond, one of Darcy’s footmen—already positioned nearby—stepped forward.

Once the final guests had entered, the man moved smoothly in front of the doors, blocking Mr. Collins with a quiet, unmistakable authority.

Realizing he had no further recourse, Mr. Collins could do little more than stand outside, muttering to himself about impropriety and ingratitude as the church doors shut firmly.

Eventually, he left to return to the inn and plan for his return journey to Kent.

Half an hour later, the newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exited the church, making their way into Darcy’s carriage.

They were the last to exit, having accepted the well wishes of all their friends and family who had attended, after signing the registry.

It was a brief carriage ride, all too brief for the newly married couple.

In Darcy’s opinion, his lips had only barely touched Elizabeth’s before the carriage was slowing before the doors to Longbourn where all their guests were waiting to celebrate with the couple at the wedding breakfast.

The next two hours felt interminable to Darcy.

He wanted little more than to have Elizabeth alone, but it seemed rude to leave his own wedding breakfast too soon.

However, the first guests finally began to take their leave, and Darcy pulled Elizabeth into an alcove out of sight of the guests.

“When can we leave, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, his exasperation clear.

Elizabeth glanced around, and seeing that they were truly alone, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly.

“How are we travelling to the dower house?” she asked.

“My carriage,” he replied, leaning down to press a series of kisses along her jaw as he murmured.

“It should be outside waiting for us, and I am certain the horses are nearly as anxious for their beds as I am.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“Then, seeing as we are not going far, and we will see my family again before we leave for London, I suggest we sneak away. Miss Bingley, Miss Horatia Bingley—really, we need to find a way to address her without visualizing the younger one—planned a dinner on Saturday for us and invited all my neighbours so they can wish us well.”

Darcy groaned.

“I suppose it is far less than what my aunt will plan for us when we are in London. As you are aware, I am not fond of social occasions, but I have done better when I have had you by my side. I need to speak to Georgiana, for I have neglected her of late, but she has had your sisters for company. She is very happy, I think, to have traded my company for that of your sisters. But, come, let us say a few words to a few people, and then we will leave.”

Elizabeth laughed again at the aggrieved expression on his face, but it was not too many minutes longer before they sneaked out the door and had boarded the carriage for the short drive to the dower house.

They found the cottage warm and inviting with trays of fruit and cheese in the sitting room attached to the main bedchambers upstairs.

It was obvious Darcy’s valet and Elizabeth’s borrowed maid had been there, for their night things were laid out, but on that night, they both agreed to eschew help from servants and rely on each other.

If there was a touch of awkwardness between them at first, neither remarked upon it.

Instead, they laughed softly through the nervousness, hands gentle and unsure at first as they undressed one another.

When at last there were no more layers between them, they chose to forgo nightclothes altogether, drawn by curiosity, affection, and growing desire.

What followed was quiet exploration—tentative at first, then more assured—as they learnt one another in the language of touch and breath, the closeness deepening into something both tender and intoxicating.

By the end, any remnants of hesitation had vanished, replaced by the quiet certainty of mutual delight.