Chapter 23

Pemberley Chapel

21 st December, 1813

Darcy’s heart thumped in his chest as he looked down the long aisle to the ancient oak doors at the far end. Any moment now, they would open to admit his bride. Behind him, there was a rustle as Bingley, who was standing up with him, shifted. Both gentlemen had taken pains over their appearance that morning, but little could be further from Darcy’s mind currently, and his friend’s movement did nothing to distract his focus.

It had been months since he had seen his beloved Elizabeth in Brighton, long and dreary months in which he had pined for her. At last, she had arrived, gracing Pemberley’s halls with her presence the previous night. It had been a joyous reunion, though a necessarily short one, for it had been late when the carriage arrived, and the travelers had been tired.

Elizabeth had not, however, been too tired to agree with him that she wished to be married as soon as possible. Thus he stood expectantly in the church, rector ready and waiting, common license in hand, and beaming with joy. The front pews rustled with velvets and wools, and Mrs. Bennet blew her nose loudly. Her three youngest daughters sat lined up beside her, all of them more or less openly ecstatic. On the opposite side of the aisle, Georgiana beamed up at him, and Mrs. Annesley’s round kindly face was wreathed in smiles. Behind them sat Mrs. Reynolds, and the butler, and a few of the upper servants, all of them dressed in their Sunday best and looking delighted.

Darcy’s attention jerked toward the back of the room by a small grinding sound. The door swung open and his breath caught in wonder at the vision that appeared. Mr. Bennet, attired neatly in a blue coat and pale breeches, shrank into insignificance beside his radiant daughter. Elizabeth was enchantingly lovely in a blue silk gown, her hair coiffured up with pearls, save for two ringlets that swung beguilingly. In her free hand, she held a bouquet of fresh greenery and several snowdrops, standing out against her gown like the pearls in her hair.

She lifted her eyes, which were sparkling with joy, to his, and Darcy lost his breath all over again. She was so beautiful, his Elizabeth, and even now she was advancing solemnly down the aisle to be wed to him for the rest of their lives…

There was a certain resignation in the smile Bennet gave Darcy as they approached. “I know you will take good care of my Lizzy,” he murmured, transferring the petite hand from his arm to Darcy’s own hand. A thrill shot up his arm from that light contact, and he curled his fingers protectively around the slender ones in his own. A solemn nod to his soon to be father-by-marriage, and Darcy turned with his bride to face the patiently waiting rector. The man smiled beneficently at them both and began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered today…”

/

Elizabeth’s Bedchamber

Pemberley

Christmas Day

Elizabeth Darcy came slowly to the surface of sleep, vaguely aware of the crackling of a fire. She rolled over, opened her eyes, and watched as a dim shape scurried quietly out of the room, having just added wood to the fire and stirred it to produce more flames and warmth.

Given that the servants were already up and about, it must be nearly six o’clock, though no light shone through the curtains as of yet. But then it was one of the shortest days of the year, and dawn was still at least two hours away.

A long arm reached out and embraced her, and she wiggled toward the middle of the bed and against the warm bulk of her husband, who had, for the fourth night in a row, shared her bed for the entire night. She felt her mouth curl up in a sleepy smile; her mother had stated, with complete certainty, that Mr. Darcy would not wish to share a bed with his bride. This had proven to be entirely incorrect, and she relished the closeness and the heat of her darling Fitzwilliam.

Her lids fluttered closed again, and she found herself drowsily considering the last days, with her parents and younger sisters in residence, and Mr. Bingley as well. The newly married Darcys had descended to the main floor for many hours a day, but they took all their meals in their shared sitting room, relishing the times of privacy. Today they would attend church, of course, and then would enjoy a bountiful feast to celebrate the Nativity of the Savior.

Tomorrow was Boxing Day, and Elizabeth was grateful to her new sister by marriage. Georgiana, along with Mrs. Reynolds, had worked hard to arrange for boxes for all the tenants and servants, and the Darcys would spend much of the day delivering presents.

The early hour and the warmth drained away consciousness, and she slipped back into sleep once again.

/

Dining Room

Pemberley

Evening

Fitzwilliam Darcy took a sip of wine and looked around the table. His chest swelled with joyful satisfaction. The party seated at the table was not a particularly large one, but it was vast in comparison to the Christmas feast of two years ago, when Georgiana had been stricken with mumps and he had eaten Christmas dinner entirely alone.

How much had changed! Now he was married to the most wonderful woman in all the world, and while his bride’s family was unusual compared to the families of high society, he was growing increasingly fond of them. Mr. Bennet, for example, seated to the right of his second daughter, was conversing happily about a book. The master of Longbourn had, as threatened, spent the majority of his waking hours in Pemberley’s vast library, and while that was not courteous according to conventional manners, Darcy found it endearing. He too adored books and was proud of his library, and he was glad his new father-by-marriage delighted in it so much.

His gaze shifted to his new mother-in-law, seated across from her husband. Upon first acquaintance with his bride’s family, he had been disgusted by Mrs. Bennet’s frantic desire to marry her daughters to wealthy men and disdainful of the lady’s vulgar foolishness. Now, two years later, he felt genuine affection toward the woman who had given Elizabeth life. Yes, Mrs. Bennet was not blessed with a powerful intellect, and she was overly talkative, but with two daughters well married, she was far calmer than she once had been. The entail on Longbourn had lain heavily on the woman’s shoulders, but now the family’s financial security when Mr. Bennet died was no longer in doubt.

He cut his beef, took a bite, and continued his observations of the rest of the guests at his table. Charles Bingley, seated next to Kitty, was conversing agreeably as he ate ragout. His old friend had matured in the last year; the shock of losing Jane Bennet to another had forced introspection, and he had been working diligently on Greymond to bring it back into good heart, which had proved a worthy pursuit for his friend.

Georgiana, seated between Mary and Lydia, looked happy. Miss Darcy was a shy creature, but Lydia could talk enough for two people, and Mary enjoyed music. She was well enough.

Last, but definitely not least, Darcy turned his attention on his darling Elizabeth, seated at the end of the table, her luxurious hair partially covered by her matron’s cap, her eyes bright as she spoke to her father. Darcy was suddenly so happy he could hardly breathe. To think that she was his, and he was hers! They were joined together before God and man and would be together until death parted them, and he hoped and prayed that they would grow old together, with white hair and wrinkles, and...

She lifted her eyes to him at this moment and smiled gloriously at him, and he smiled in return.

Yes, they were blessed, so richly blessed.