A vignette featuring the Darcy and Elizabeth of Unequal Affections.
Unequal Affections
Vignette—The Wedding Day
After knocking,
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room where Darcy stood before a mirror in his
shirtsleeves, meticulously perfecting the folds of his cravat. “Well, old man?”
he said. “Are you nervous?”
Darcy shook
his head, smiling slightly.
The colonel
laughed. “You always were the coldest fish in the sea.”
Their eyes
met in the mirror. “Cold is not how I feel,” said Darcy simply.
Just then
Mr. Bingley appeared, all eager excitement. “The carriage will be round in half
an hour, Darcy! You’ve just time to drink a cup of coffee and eat something if
you wish.”
“I would not
count on eating a great deal during the wedding breakfast,” advised the other
man.
Darcy
nodded. “I will eat.” His valet approached and helped him into his coat. He
smoothed the lapels, tugged on the sleeves and bottom edge, then walked over to
the writing desk. Although nearly all his things were packed up and ready to be
sent ahead as soon as he left for the church, he had a box sitting out which
contained his correspondence, important papers and a few valuables. Reaching
inside, he produced a small leather jeweller’s box.
“Is that the
ring?” asked Bingley.
He nodded
again, opening it to study its contents for a moment. Fitzwilliam walked over
to stand at his shoulder. “That was Lady Anne’s ring, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” It
comprised a rare yellow diamond, surrounded by small white diamonds on a golden
band.
“Has she
seen it yet?”
“No.” A
smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She never even asked me what sort of
ring I intended to give her. I do not believe she cares.”
“Well, she
will not be disappointed with that.”
Darcy did
not reply, but he had a singularly satisfied look in his eyes as he removed the
ring and slipped it into an inner pocket.
They
proceeded downstairs, where Darcy ate his breakfast with remarkable composure
while his cousin and friend continued to watch him closely, as if expecting him
to give way to nerves at any moment. When word came that the carriage was waiting
he wiped his mouth, stood, checked his appearance in a nearby mirror one last
time, and strode purposely across the floor, out the door and down the steps,
his companions trailing behind.
~%~%~%~%~%~
“What do you
think, Georgiana?” asked Elizabeth of her newest sister, who had been
permitted, along with Jane, to watch her dress. Georgiana blushed at having her
opinion sought, but offered it timidly.
“I think the
flowers would be prettiest if you placed them here.” She moved the spray in
question to a slightly different location.
Elizabeth
studied her reflection. “Yes, I think you are right.”
“It does not
matter what you do, Lizzy,” said Jane. “You are beautiful regardless.”
She looked
at herself, eyes full of wonder and happiness and a new bashfulness. “Do you
think he will feel so?”
“Of course
he will!” exclaimed both ladies at once.
The door
opened to admit Mrs. Bennet, looking resplendent in her own garb. “Well, Lizzy,
let me look at you,” she said, and commenced an inspection, tweaking and tugging
and making little sounds of approval or disapproval as she did. Elizabeth
looked with laughing eyes at the others.
“I suppose
you will do,” was the verdict eventually. “You will never be Jane but you are
far prettier than any other girl in Hertfordshire, and I’m sure Mr. Darcy knows
it.”
“Yes, Mama,
I am sure he does,” she answered, suppressing a laugh. “Even if I cannot be
Jane.”
Mrs. Bennet
nodded her agreement before bustling off to check on her younger daughters. The
three women left behind looked and each other and burst out laughing. “Dear
Mama!” said Elizabeth. “I believe I may actually miss her.”
“Of course
you will miss her,” said Jane. “Just as we will all miss you.”
“Ah, but we
will be returning soon enough,” she twinkled back. “When a certain other expected event takes place.”
Jane smiled
happily at this reference to her wedding.
In a few
more minutes Jane and Georgiana went to put the finishing touches on their own
toilettes, leaving Elizabeth alone for a few minutes. She cast a lingering
glance around her chamber, knowing that when she came back there, it would not
be as the maiden who had slept in that bed and dreamt girlish dreams for so
many years. She would be a married woman, and if she ever slept here again, her
husband would be with her. Smiling a whimsical smile, running a last, caressing
hand over her old dresser, she left the room—and her girlhood—behind forever.
When
Elizabeth came walking softly down the stairs in her bridal array, she found
everyone but Lydia, Kitty and Mrs. Bennet gathered there. Her father looked at
her with suspiciously misty eyes and pressed her hand.
Mr. Darcy
had sent an extra carriage from Netherfield, but even so the first carriage was
slightly cramped as Lydia, Kitty and Mary squeezed into one seat while Mrs.
Bennet and Mrs. Annesley occupied the other one. In the second carriage, Mr.
Bennet, Georgiana and Jane rode with Lizzy.
The
gentlemen were all waiting outside the church when they arrived, making
conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. Mrs. Bennet’s coach disembarked first,
and everyone made their greetings politely. It was on the other carriage that
all eyes focused. Mr. Bennet climbed out first, and turned to assist Miss
Darcy, who went immediately to her brother’s side. He took her hand and
squeezed it, his eyes still fixed on the carriage door. Next, Miss Jane Bennet
was helped down by her betrothed, and finally, leaning on her father’s hand,
his Elizabeth, all in white, with a veil draped over her bonnet. Their eyes met
across the distance and held.
Colonel
Fitzwilliam tugged at his arm. “Come, Darcy we must go inside,” he whispered.
“You should not be out here at all.”
Darcy shook
him off. “I am hardly superstitious.” He crossed the small distance to her.
Elizabeth
smiled shyly, endearingly at him, and offered him one gloved hand. The other
held a small bouquet of flowers and fragrant herbs. He raised it to his lips,
caressing it lightly. “My love.”
Elizabeth’s
mouth deepened at the corners. “My
love.”
Darcy’s throat
constricted and he looked way momentarily. It had not been enough days since
she first spoke that title for him to have yet grown accustomed to it.
Mr. Bennet’s
presence distracted them. “Shall we go inside?”
There were
not enough people to be worth filling the pews. The entire community had been
invited to the celebratory breakfast afterward, but here in the church it was
only family and the dearest of friends. The Phillipses sat with Mrs. Annesley,
but the others just filled up the front of the sanctuary, Elizabeth’s sisters
grouped behind her, Darcy’s sister and cousin together on his side, while the
maid of honour and best man took the nearest positions. Mr. Bennet gave his
most beloved daughter away to the man who had fairly earned her love, and even
Lydia remained quiet and respectful during the short, solemn ceremony.
Elizabeth hardly even blinked when he slipped the sparkling ring on her finger;
there was no ring at all that mattered compared to the man standing opposite
her.
When they
came out they found that some local children had gathered outside, and there,
too, was Sir William, with John and Maria and all the younger Lucases and even
Charlotte with them, all laughing as they threw flowers and rice over the
married couple.
Elizabeth
had asked if they could walk home from the church, walk home as she had walked
home nearly every Sunday for so much of her life. Mrs. Bennet had thought the
request terribly eccentric, but Mr. Darcy had smiled as he granted it; he was
not sorry for the extra minutes alone with his bride. While the others went on
by carriage they strolled quietly through the sunshine, saying very little but
walking very close, and when some sheltering trees provided sanctuary, who
could blame them if they tarried a while, whispering and kissing, utterly happy
with the world and themselves in it? It was a rosy cheeked Elizabeth and a
bright-eyed Darcy who finally arrived at their wedding breakfast.
It was a
loud, jolly, bustling party. Elizabeth talked with one person after another,
sparkling more brightly than her wedding ring, while Darcy watched her. When
Colonel Fitzwilliam, at long last extracting himself from Lydia’s clutches,
appeared beside him, he spared him only a flickering glance and slight smile.
“It is good
to see you so happy,” said the colonel quietly.
“It is good
to be so happy.”
“I never
imagined it, when we first arrived at Rosings in March.”
Darcy just
shook his head.
“She will be
a lot more fun at Christmas than that lady Edward married.”
Darcy gave a
short bark of laughter. “Where is Georgiana?”
“Bingley and
Miss Bennet have her safe. Even her shyness cannot combat their combined good
will and amiability.”
He nodded.
“You’ll take care of her?”
“Of course I
will. Go and enjoy your wife.”
“My wife,”
he murmured, and set off across the room. The crowds seemed to part almost
miraculously before his tall figure; in only a few moments he had arrived at
her side.
Elizabeth,
flushed from heat and exertion and happiness, took his arm and smiled
brilliantly at him. “You want to go.”
“I don’t
wish to rush you.”
She shook
her head. “I think I have talked to every person I ever knew now. The only
person I have not spoken enough to is you.”
He led her
towards her eldest sister. “We are ready to leave, Jane,” said Lizzy.
“Of course
you are. I will go and tell my parents.” She slipped away.
“Is there
anything else you need?” Darcy asked.
“I don’t
think so.” She gripped his arm more firmly. “I have everything right here.”
The family
goodbyes were meant to be private, but word spread quickly that the bride and
groom were leaving, and by the time the carriage came around the house had
disgorged its every soul onto the front porch and steps, servants included. Mr.
Bennet gripped Darcy’s hand. “I could not have parted with her for anyone less
worthy.”
Darcy
returned his gaze without any of the old arrogance. “Thank you.”
Then it was
up into the shiny new carriage, a lurch and they were moving, Longbourn’s treed
drive, the shops of Meryton and the hills of Hertfordshire, all slipping,
slipping past. She felt her husband’s hand pressing against hers, and his
finger brushing down the side of her cheek. “You will come back again.”
She shook
her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Her eyes moved from the window to his dear face.
“I love it all, but I love you more.” His arm went around her and with a deep
sigh, she settled back against him. “Take me home, Fitzwilliam.”
Burying his
face against her neck he whispered, “As you wish, Mrs. Darcy.”
