Chapter 55

55

F inally, finally, it was the day of Jane's wedding. Elizabeth was done with all the noise and panicked preparation and changes.

Kitty and Lydia had returned from their schools the evening before, and Elizabeth had listened to their excited chatter and admired the gowns that they had made with the help of the school staff; she wished to encourage them so they would be inclined to return to school afterwards, despite the fact that it was now safe to remain.

She hoped it would be enough; Longbourn was definitely a better experience when it was quieter.

She smiled to herself. A courtship usually led to an engagement, and then to marriage. She herself might be leaving Longbourn in the relatively near future.

A breathless feeling stole through her. Was she doing the right thing? Derbyshire was a long way from all those she knew — her family and friends. A long way from Uncle Gardiner; and a long way from Charlotte. How would they be able to collaborate on their songs, if her friend was so far away? They had talked, of course, about Charlotte living with her in the future, but her friend deserved the chance at marriage, a family, and a home of her own.

Derbyshire. Could she give up everything for the chance to be married? No she could not.

But could she refuse to marry him and never see him again? No more gentle conversations; no more being able to see the tenderness in his expression; the press of his hand against her fingers as he bowed over them. No, she could never do that.

And she smiled to herself as she dried her hair in front of the fire in her chamber. It must mean she loved him, if she was willing to give up all that she had here. And her heart went into her throat.

She must tell him her final secret. Would he be angry that she had hidden it from him right until the end?

Elizabeth jumped to her feet. This was Jane's day, not hers to dream away. She hurried along the landing, and knocked on Mary's door, knowing that Lydia and Kitty had each other and her middle sister would be alone.

"Mary, are you nearly ready? — Oh, you look lovely. Might you come and help me assist Jane to get ready? Mama has probably made her all flustered."

Mary smiled. "Yes. I heard Mama last evening, trying to tell Jane what to expect on her wedding night." She made a face. "I could hardly believe it."

Elizabeth looked at her sister. "I would not have thought it of you, my dear — and I insist you tell me all about it tomorrow!"

Mary blushed, as Elizabeth intended. "Certainly not! I could never repeat it." She met her sister's gaze. "In any event, if I observe correctly, it will not be many months before you get Mama's lecture all to yourself."

Elizabeth knew she blushed, just as she knew that was Mary's intention; she hastily changed the subject.

"Come on, let us go to relieve Jane's anxiety."

Their eldest sister was sitting before her fire, combing her fingers through her long hair to assist it to dry, while Sarah was laying out the wedding gown on the bed and anxiously undoing all the tiny pearl buttons down the back.

"There you are, Jane. We're here to get in your way and distract you from being nervous."

"Who said I am nervous?" Jane smiled calmly, but Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Do not pretend to me, Janie. I can see you are. It is in your eyes."

"Very well, then I will accept Mary's help as she is ready and lovely." Jane held out her hand to Mary. "You, Lizzy, can help me when you are ready. Go on, you have to look radiant, too, so Mr. Darcy cannot take his eyes off you!"

Oh, very well," Elizabeth huffed. "I'll borrow you, Sarah, if you don't mind, and get my hair dressed, then I will be back, Jane, and we will have you ready in a trice!"

As she processed up the aisle behind Jane on Papa's arm, Elizabeth looked up ahead. Mr. Bingley had moved out from the pew to wait for his bride before the chancel. But she could not stop her eyes from sliding to the figure beside her nearly-brother.

Mr. Darcy, resplendent in an immaculately-tailored suit, stood straight and tall, his lean figure causing chaos within her heart. His gaze settled on her heated face. She dragged her eyes away fast. Concentrate. She must not be distracted.

Jane turned and handed her flowers back for Elizabeth to hold.

The elderly vicar's voice quavered on — dear Mr. Stephenson! "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

She stood behind her sister, watching, as her father gave his eldest daughter's hand to her bridegroom, and she saw the moisture in Papa's eyes as he moved heavily into the pew beside Mama, his job done, and no longer with right to protect his daughter, nor any responsibility for her.

It must be hard for him, she thought, perhaps worse than her own sadness at the loss of the close fellowship she'd had with Jane her whole life.

She felt sympathy flowing out towards her, and glanced at Mr. Darcy. He was smiling gently at her, and the understanding in his eyes caused her to swallow back the tears that sprang to her eyes. He was the very best of men.

She listened to the ceremony with a smile on her face and a wistful longing in her heart. Then she was walking beside Mr. Darcy as they followed the couple into the vestry to witness the signing of the register.

Elizabeth gazed at the strong firm signature of the man who might soon be her husband. Her own, below his, wavered slightly, emotion having rather taken control of her. Then his hand covered hers, and he lifted it and placed it on his arm with a barely perceptible, but comforting, squeeze.

She smiled up at him. Surely everything was all right now? He could not object that she had kept Santorio's secret from him for so long when she did tell him? Instead, he would be pleased that he was the first person she had trusted with the information, would he not?

His face swam, blurry, through her watery gaze, and he drew her closer. "Courage, my Elizabeth." His whisper was for her alone.

She firmed her wobbling legs and stood straighter. She must walk down the aisle behind her sister and new brother. She must get through the wedding breakfast without breaking down; and must see Mr. and Mrs. Bingley away from the celebration before she could go to her chamber and recall this wonderful time.

She loved him. She knew that now. And she was sure his words and actions today signalled that he returned that love. All would be well — no, not just well, but perfect.

She smiled to herself. How would she manage not to be too obvious about it, so as not to steal attention away from Jane?