Page 45 of To Love And To Cherish (Pride And Prejudice Variation #3)

The morning air was crisp, and the dew lay clean and undisturbed across the grounds of Castle Roy.

Darcy stood at the breakfast parlor window, watching the sky for any sign of a break in the fine weather they had been experiencing.

The sun was shining bright, and the roads were dry, and travel would not be hindered.

Behind him, a door opened; those who had gone out to walk were now returning.

They filed in gradually, shedding cloaks and stamping boots dry. Lucas and Miss Trent entered first, heads bent together in conspiratorial mirth. They had that look of a couple entirely pleased with themselves. It might have annoyed Darcy once, but not today.

Elizabeth arrived shortly after. Her cheeks pinked from the cold, her eyes bright. He crossed the room at once, took a plate and served her breakfast, then held her chair as she sat. It felt astonishingly right, as if he had always done it.

He asked after her morning walk, her last at Castle Roy.

Elizabeth looked out across the dewy hills, her voice soft, her manner tinged with melancholy. “It is hard to say goodbye to a place and to people who have been so welcoming. And to a landscape so beautiful. I shall miss it more than I thought possible.”

Darcy followed her gaze, but his eyes soon returned to her. “We will find a church in which to marry,” he said quietly, “and then begin our journey south, while the weather is still fine.”

She turned toward him, a wistful smile curving her lips. “I can hardly believe this is true. I am to marry the great Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes shimmered with feeling. “This has been years in the making, has it not?”

He studied her face, trying to imprint this moment in his memory. “Twisting and turning all the way,” he said. “If anyone had told me that day outside the bookshop that I would someday beg that dirt-streaked child to marry me, I would think they were touched in the head.” He grinned.

“I would not have believed it either,” she said, laughing gently. “You were the most imposing man I had ever seen. And you did not smile.”

“I was trying not to frighten you,” he murmured. “And failing utterly, it seems.”

She reached for his hand, eyes dancing. “I was only fifteen, and quite convinced you looked like a prince who stepped out of a novel. Then you opened your mouth and said the most exasperating things about women and our place in society. I believe I swatted you once or twice.”

He raised a brow. “Only twice? You showed remarkable restraint. I was forever saying the wrong thing to you. I distinctly recall being insulted in Portuguese more than once.”

He looked down at their joined hands, then back up. “You gave me that lovely, fine-crafted box, and I carried it with me across France, through war and storm and every lonely moment in between.”

Her eyes filled with sudden warmth. “And I never stopped thinking of you. Even when you insulted me most grievously at the assembly at Meryton, and I swore I would burn the letters you sent to Uncle Gardiner.”

He winced. “I was a fool.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a smile, “but you are my fool now.”

He chuckled, low and fond. “I can scarcely eat this morning because I can hardly take my eyes from you. And all my thoughts repeat, ‘This is the woman who will be my wife, finally.’”

Elizabeth leaned closer, her voice quiet. “And I thought, ‘This is the man I’ve loved half my life. And today, I am his.’”

Adam Frazier rustled his newspaper with deliberate emphasis. Darcy heard it, but could not bring himself to look away from Elizabeth or abandon his reverie.

At last, Darcy turned and asked evenly, “Where is the nearest church?”

Adam lowered his paper and answered without inflection, “Old High St Stephen’s in Inverness.

It’s twenty-three miles by horseback, but the ride is easy, and the place memorable.

The church stands on St Michael’s Mount along the River Ness.

You can still see musket ball scars on the walls, from when Jacobite prisoners were executed after Culloden. The history is grim.”

Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Would you ride with me today to Inverness, and marry me in that church? If it's past disturbs you, we may find another.”

She tilted her head, considering. “I will ride to Inverness to marry you, Mr. Darcy. And the church, yes, it is perfect. Our life together will become part of the long history woven into that place.”

He felt the world tilt beneath him.

Lucas, never one to be outdone, turned to Miss Trent. “Would you marry me today, too, Ancilla? We could ride along with them. Let us be married and get on with our future together.”

She laughed. “Is that your proposal, Lucas?”

“It is. Entirely romantic, spontaneous, and practical. All the best proposals are.”

“I accept.”

Darcy saw Daniel’s gentle approach to Mary King. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me today, Miss King?”

Mary blushed but smiled warmly. “Yes. I should like that very much.”

Adam set his cup down, murmuring to Marcus, “Well, it seems we’ll be marrying off two of our brothers today. I suppose we’d best put everything else aside.”

Darcy then asked Adam a more practical question. “Will the weather hold for a journey south from Inverness, if we depart promptly?”

“Scotland has a great deal of rain,” Adam replied. “But if you keep ahead of the clouds, you’ll travel safely. You have plenty of time to stop a day or two if the roads get too wet and still make it back to your home before the cold sets in.”

“Excellent.” Darcy stood. “I will order my carriage readied and have my valet pack at once. I would also like to purchase a mount for Elizabeth. She may wish to ride part of the way.”

Adam nodded. “Kelpie is hers. She’s taken to the mare.”

“I insist on paying full price,” Darcy said. “And I’ll also purchase the black stallion, Rowan. He is a beauty. My friend Bingley is seeking a mount. Once he sees Rowan, he’ll be in contact.”

Arrangements were made swiftly. Trunks were packed, horses saddled. Lucas discussed renovations for Ellan Hall with Adam and Ancilla. Elizabeth and Miss King packed their things with a kind of dreamy efficiency. The entire household was soon prepared to ride.

The road to Inverness was lovely. When they reached the town itself, the church soon rose before them, formidable in its red sandstone, with a slate roof and slender spire. The old curfew bell hung high in the tower.

Adam rode up beside Elizabeth. “Since seventeen hundred and three, that bell’s rung at five in the evening. It signaled the beginning of curfew. No man could walk the streets without a lantern, and fire was always a danger with timber buildings.”

“Is the law still enforced?” Elizabeth asked.

Lucas called over his shoulder, “No, but the bell still rings. Now it’s just tradition.”

As they entered the Kirkyard, moss-covered gravestones leaned with age. Darcy gestured to the nearest wall. “The musket marks, see there. From the Jacobite executions.”

The air was thick with the memory of history, but Elizabeth said nothing, only took his hand in hers.

Inside, they were greeted by a rotund clergyman with a booming voice and sparkling eyes. “Welcome, my friends! What may I do for you today?”

Darcy stepped forward. “We wish to be married.”

Lucas followed. “And we, too, would like to be married.”

Daniel raised a hand. “As would I and my betrothed.”

The clergyman grinned. “A right Highland affair, then. Scotsmen always did prefer their ball and chain to any other fate. Come along.”

They were ushered into the dark church, light filtering through stained glass. The high altar dominated the nave, and the pulpit to the side stood like a sentinel above the pews. The couples lined up quietly.

Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand. Her fingers trembled slightly in his.

When the clergyman called them forward, the ceremony began, solemn and sacred. Darcy recited his vows, his voice a rich baritone, clear and unwavering.

“I, Fitzwilliam, take thee Elizabeth, to be my wedded wife…”

He saw her eyes brim, and his own voice nearly caught as he said the final words: “to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

The clergyman turned to Elizabeth. Her eyes never left Darcy’s.

“I, Elizabeth, take thee Fitzwilliam…”

Her voice was clear, her gaze intent upon him. When she smiled, the world seemed to narrow until only she and Darcy remained.

The registry was signed, Ancilla and Adam bearing witness. Then Lucas and Ancilla took their vows, followed by Daniel and Mary. Elizabeth stood for Ancilla, and Adam stepped forward for both of his brothers.

After the ceremonies, they walked to a nearby hostelry and gathered in a private parlor. Food was served, and wine was poured. Laughter bubbled easily. Darcy could hardly believe it. He was married. Married to Elizabeth Bennet.

As they rose to depart, Darcy turned to Adam. “Thank you. For everything. Your hospitality has been generous beyond all reason.”

He congratulated Lucas with a warm handshake and clapped Daniel on the back. “You’ve done well,” he said, then turned to prepare for departure.

Adam caught Elizabeth’s hand before she could follow.

“It has been my greatest pleasure to know you, Mrs. Darcy. I hoped, once, for a different ending, but now I see this is the best one.”

Elizabeth smiled, touched. “I truly had begun to hope for a future with you. But once Mr. Darcy proposed, I could think of no one else.”

Adam bent and kissed her hand. “He is a lucky man.”

As Adam and Marcus mounted their horses for the journey back to Carrbridge, Elizabeth embraced Ancilla and Mary, offering thanks and affection. Darcy returned, informing her that they would need to secure rooms elsewhere.

He scanned the group. “Where is Adam?”

Lucas said, “Gone. He wished to be away quickly.”

Darcy nodded once. “Please give him my best. And know that if ever any of you are near Bakewell, the doors of Pemberley stand open.”

He looked down at Elizabeth, his wife, and offered his arm. “Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?”

She placed her hand in his.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy. Let us go home.”