Page 54

M rs. Elizabeth Darcy—how strange and wonderful that sounded!

—stood in a quiet corner of the drawing room, taking a moment to observe the scene before her.

It was important, of course, but also fitting that their wedding should take place in London, where their scandal had begun and their love had flourished despite all obstacles.

Mrs. Abernathy and Lady Matlock had combined their considerable social powers to create an event that managed to be both elegant and welcoming, much like the unlikely friendship that had developed between the two women.

The scandal that might have ruined Elizabeth and her new husband had instead forged unexpected bonds.

The grandeur of the occasion was evident in every detail. The scent of fresh flowers purchased from most of the hothouses in town mingled with the mouthwatering aromas wafting from the dining room. Servants bustled about with quiet efficiency, laying out an impressive array of dishes.

Lord Milton conversed animatedly with Mr. Abernathy near the fireplace. His lordship's usual flippant manner was softened by a genuine smile as he raised his glass in a toast to the happy couple.

Lord and Lady Matlock stood nearby, the picture of dignified contentment as they surveyed the gathering. Lady Matlock had already extracted promises from Elizabeth to serve on several committees with her, including the planning of her annual art salon.

"Lizzy, there you are."

The familiar voice drew Elizabeth's attention to her eldest sister, who approached with a radiant smile. Jane had arrived in London just three days prior, personally escorted by their father.

Papa hated travelling. That he had journeyed all the way back to Derbyshire himself to ensure Jane could stand up with her sister was clearly an offer of contrition.

The younger Bennets were not as close to Elizabeth and had remained in the north.

They would return with the Gardiners as originally planned.

"Jane," Elizabeth embraced her sister warmly. "I still cannot believe you are here."

"Did you think I would miss my favourite sister's wedding?" Jane's gentle reproach was belied by the twinkle in her eye.

Across the room, Elizabeth spotted her parents.

Her father stood with a glass of champagne, observing the proceedings with his characteristic detachment, though she noted with surprise that there was a certain softness in his expression as his gaze met hers.

Her mother, meanwhile, was engaged in animated conversation with Mrs. Abernathy, her gestures indicating that she was likely recounting the tale of how she had "always known" her second daughter would make a brilliant match.

Arabella joined them and immediately embraced Jane. "Here is the eldest and wisest of our trio!"

"Belle." Jane returned the embrace with equal affection before straightening and scolding them affectionately. "You two and your escapades. Had I been with you in London, there would have been no scandal at all."

"But then there would have been no wedding today," Elizabeth pointed out with a raised brow.

"True enough," Arabella agreed. "Your absence has proved rather fortuitous, Jane."

"I suppose it has," Jane agreed with a quiet laugh. But as she gazed out into the room, her smile faltered momentarily, replaced by an expression of intense interest.

Elizabeth followed her sister's gaze to where her husband stood in conversation with a fair-haired gentleman. As if sensing her attention, he looked up, caught her eye, and began steering his companion in their direction.

The gentle tinkling of crystal announced the arrival of more champagne, carried on silver trays by a number of liveried footmen.

Lady Worcester, resplendent in a gown of deep burgundy, accepted a glass before making her way towards Elizabeth.

The formidable friend of Lady Matlock’s, who had unexpectedly become one of Elizabeth's staunchest allies, nodded approvingly.

"Mrs. Darcy," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. "I must say, you wear matrimony well."

"You are too kind, Lady Worcester," Elizabeth replied with a curtsy. "Your presence today means a great deal to us both."

"Nonsense. I would not have missed it for the world. One so rarely has the opportunity to witness true affection in these matches. Your husband is fortunate indeed." Lady Worcester smiled and returned to her husband.

"Ladies," Mr. Darcy said as he and the other gentleman approached, his voice warming noticeably as he addressed Elizabeth. "May I present Mr. Charles Bingley, a dear friend of mine? Bingley, my wife, Mrs. Darcy, her sister, Miss Bennet, and her dear friend Miss Abernathy."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Bingley said, his friendly demeanour immediately apparent. Yet when his eyes met Jane's, something shifted in his expression to reveal a delighted surprise that had Elizabeth and Arabella exchange knowing glances.

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. Bingley," Jane replied, her normally serene composure momentarily unsettled as a becoming blush rose to her cheeks.

From the dining room came the soft clink of silver against china as the final dishes were arranged.

A magnificent roast was placed in the centre, surrounded by potatoes roasted to golden perfection nestled alongside carrots glazed with honey and an array of vegetables rarely seen this time of year, from hothouses all around London.

Asparagus spears glistened with melted butter, while mushrooms sautéed with herbs offered their earthy fragrance.

There were even early peas alongside the parsnips.

Pears, apples, oranges, and plums in elegant arrangements were placed on either side of the vegetables, and at both ends of the table stood elaborate confections.

It was far grander than any wedding breakfast Elizabeth had ever seen.

Mr. Bingley met Jane's gaze again. "I must pay my respects to Lady Matlock, and I would not keep you from partaking of this marvellous feast," he said, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“You must join us at our table, Mr. Bingley,” Arabella said sweetly, taking one of his arms and leaving him to offer the other to Jane.

As Mr. Bingley complied by holding out his arm to Jane, he said, "Miss Bennet, might I call upon you while you remain in town?"

"I am returning to Hertfordshire tomorrow, Mr. Bingley," Jane said, disappointed.

"You need not, Jane," Arabella said. "Lizzy's things are already at Darcy House. We could simply move you into her chamber, and then you and I could have a visit. I have missed you."

Jane was very quiet, and for a moment, Elizabeth was concerned that she and Arabella had misread her sister's interest.

"I would like that very much," Jane replied at last. "And that answer applies to both of you."

"Excellent," Mr. Bingley said, placing his hand over Jane’s before realizing what he was doing and removing it. "Excellent.”

"Well! How delightful this shall be," Elizabeth said quietly as she watched them go.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Darcy?"

Elizabeth turned to her husband. He looked impossibly handsome in his wedding attire and his eyes held a tenderness that made her breath catch.

She wound her arm in his. "I was merely reflecting on how the most difficult paths can lead to the most beautiful destinations."

"Poetic as always," he murmured, his lips quirking into that small smile she had come to cherish. "Bingley wasted no time, did he?"

"Jane likes him."

"Do you think so?"

"We shall see. Mr. Bingley seems a most amiable gentleman.”

"He is a good man," Mr. Darcy replied with genuine warmth.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to her husband, but a sudden, delighted squeak drew her gaze across the room.

Arabella had flung her arms around Colonel Fitzwilliam, laughing as he lifted her briefly off her feet before setting her down and kissing her hand.

A ripple of curious glances passed among the nearby guests, but the pair seemed entirely oblivious to the stir they had caused.

Mr. Darcy, following her gaze, gave a small, knowing smile. “Word came this morning before we left for church,” he told her. “His commission has been sold. He wishes to set a date.”

Elizabeth’s hand tightened slightly in his. “Oh,” she breathed. “At last.”

“At last? Three weeks is no time at all, for it is not a simple thing.” His smile deepened. “But he had a powerful inducement, and he was determined.”

“Why did he wait until now to tell her?”

“He did not wish to take any of the attention away from the bride.”

Elizabeth smiled. “In other words, you told him not to.”

Mr. Darcy kissed the back of Elizabeth's hand and did not respond to her comment. "If they do one day wed, their story will be far less eventful than ours."

"You mean lacking in slippers, spilled trout, and cutting remarks?" Elizabeth teased. "I sometimes wonder what might have happened had we met in such ordinary circumstances as a dance near Longbourn."

He grimaced. "A country assembly, you mean? Where I knew no one?"

"Yes, why?"

He cleared his throat. "Better you not ask."

"Oh," she said delightedly, "now you must tell me."

"You recall my blunder at the park?"

"Very well."

"Child's play."

She laughed then. "You would have insulted me?"

He shrugged. "You are very pretty. I would likely have nearly swallowed my own tongue and then said something abominably stupid."

"It is a good thing we met in London, then."

"Yes." His nod was sharp. "A very good thing."

The guests began to take their seats at the table, the murmur of conversation mingling with the soft clink of crystal glasses filled with champagne. Mr. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, leading her towards the head of the table where they were to sit as the guests of honour.

"It appears we have survived the scandal admirably," he whispered to her. "Lady Worcester informed me earlier that we are now considered the most romantic match of the season."

It was all absurd of course, but things had turned out so well she could now find it amusing. "How extraordinary," Elizabeth replied.

His gaze softened as he looked down at her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How true."

Elizabeth felt herself blush at this proof of his regard, her thoughts turning unbidden to the wedding night that awaited them. The promise of intimacy and discovery sent a pleasant shiver of anticipation through her.

As if reading her thoughts, Mr. Darcy's fingertips brushed against the inside of her wrist, a gesture both innocent and laden with meaning. "I look forward to this evening, my love.”

The implication was clear, and Elizabeth felt her colour deepen. "Patience is a virtue, Mr. Darcy," she replied sweetly, despite the quickening of her pulse.

"One I fear you may already have exhausted," he retorted with a small smile, his eyes holding a tantalising promise. "But come, let us join our guests. The sooner the festivities conclude . . .”

He did not finish the sentence, but the slight curve of his lips told Elizabeth all she needed to know.

As they took their places at the table, surrounded by friends and family who had witnessed their unlikely journey from scandal to marriage, Elizabeth could not help but reflect that, for all the trials they had faced, she would not change a single moment that had led her to becoming Mrs. Darcy.

After all, she thought as she glanced at her husband’s beloved face, even the most inauspicious of beginnings could lead to the most perfect of endings.