‘Good, because I could not bear to let you go to anyone who did not deserve you or anyone you did not truly love,’ he said searchingly.

‘I do love him, Papa, with all my heart,’ said Elizabeth.

‘Well then, the carriage is ready, and your bridesmaids are waiting for you. Your mother has already gone to the church. It’s time for us to go.’

He offered them each an arm and then, with Lizzy on his right and Jane on his left, he led them out to the carriage.


***

The streets of Meryton were full of the townspeople going about their daily business, but they all stopped to look and smile as the Bennet carriage drove past. It was the centre of attention as it drove the mile to the church. When it arrived, Elizabeth and Jane saw that the lich gate had been decorated with flowers.

‘That was your sister Kitty’s idea,’ said Mr Bennet as he handed his daughters out of the carriage.

Kitty, climbing out of the carriage behind them with their other bridesmaid, Georgiana Darcy, flushed with pleasure at their obvious delight.

‘Your sister Mary, however, thought it a well intentioned but futile gesture as the state of the lich gate would not have any bearing on your future happiness; indeed, she had already discovered a learned extract on that very subject,’ Mr Bennet added drily.

Elizabeth laughed, but as she walked up the path to the church, she felt her humour leave her and nerves began to assail her.

Would Darcy be there? Would he have changed his mind?

Would he be wearing his blue coat?

The mischievous thought slipped into her mind and made her realise how foolish her worries were, and she laughed quietly to herself.

When they reached the church door, Mr Bennet paused.

‘Well, girls, let me look at you for one last time,’ he said with something that looked suspiciously like moisture in his eyes. ‘Yes, you will do very well,’ he said at last with a fond smile. ‘In fact, you will do more than very well. You are undoubtedly the two loveliest brides in England.’

Then, giving them an arm each, he led them inside.

As they entered the church, Elizabeth and Jane saw that their family and friends had all gathered to witness their wedding. Mrs Bennet was sitting on one side of the aisle with the Gardiners and the Phillipses, whilst Caroline Bingley was on the other side with her sister and brother-in-law. Friends and neighbours were scattered about, all eager to witness the ceremony.

Mr Collins told everyone, in a loud whisper, that, as a clergyman, he was ready to perform the necessary ceremony if the Meryton vicar should suddenly be taken ill; but as Mr Williams was a young man, and as he was already standing in front of them, this did not seem very likely.

The two prospective bridegrooms stood at the front of the church, smiling nervously at each other and asking their groomsmen repeatedly if the wedding rings were safe. They were both looking very handsome and were dressed immaculately in black tailcoats and white breeches. Their cravats were newly starched and their white shirts were ruffled at the wrist.

As Elizabeth and Jane began to walk down the aisle, Mary, who was seated at the church organ, struck up a sonata and everyone turned to look at the brides. A murmur of appreciation went up, gradually fading away to nothing.

When Elizabeth and Jane reached the front of the church, they gave their bouquets to Kitty and Georgiana and then the bridesmaids stood to one side. There were a few coughs, though mercifully none from Kitty, and the vicar began.

‘Dearly, beloved, we are gathered together here…’

Elizabeth stole a look at Darcy. He was looking more nervous than she had ever seen him; more nervous, even, than he had been when he had visited her at the inn at Lambton after their estrangement. But when, feeling her eyes on him, he turned to look at her, she saw his nervousness fade, and smiling, they both turned back to the vicar.

‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’ asked the Rev Mr Williams.

‘I do,’ said Mr Bennet, with a look of paternal love and pride.

Mr Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand in his own right hand and repeated after Mr Williams, ‘I, Fitzwilliam Charles George Darcy, take thee, Elizabeth Eleanor Anne Bennet, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honour, and cherish, till death do us part.’

As he did so, there were sighs from the congregation, most notably from the corner where Caroline Bingley was sitting.

Elizabeth and Darcy loosed hands, and then Elizabeth took Darcy’s right hand in her own right hand and made her vows in a clear voice that set Mrs Bennet mopping her eyes with her handkerchief, and when Darcy slipped the ring onto Elizabeth’s finger, a murmur of approval ran round the church.

Their vows made, they went through into the vestry to sign the register, accompanied by Jane and Bingley, whose vows had been made in no less loving tones. As Mary played another sonata, Elizabeth and Jane signed their names as Bennet for the last time.

When they came out of the vestry, Elizabeth distinctly heard her mother whispering in exultant tones, ‘Oh! Mr Bennet! Just think, of it, our Elizabeth is now Mrs Darcy! Oh my goodness, ten thousand a year!’

They walked back up the aisle to showers of congratulations. As they emerged into the sunshine, they were met by Sir William Lucas making a stately speech, and then confronted by Mr Collins bowing obsequiously before them and peppering his rambling congratulations with ‘…esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh…’ before they were free to walk down the path.

When they reached its end, Mr Gardiner handed Mr Darcy some messages which had arrived from well wishers who could not attend the service. Mr Darcy read them to Elizabeth as they went out to the road, where the Darcy coach was waiting.

Elizabeth climbed into the coach, where she was met with the smell of polish and the feel of leather seats, so different from the Bennet coach with its musty interior and its patched upholstery. Even the blinds in the Darcy coach were made of silk.

To the happy cries of the congregation the coach set off on its way back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast. As Mr Darcy seated himself opposite her, Elizabeth caught an expression of such pure love on his face that she felt a catch in her throat.

She turned away, momentarily overcome, and he continued to read the goodwill messages whilst Elizabeth waved at the young Lucases who were laughing and cheering as the coach drove past. But she could not keep her eyes away from him for long, and they strayed to his reflection, longing to see his face again… and then her heart missed a beat, for the look of love on his face had been replaced by a look of torment.

She felt suddenly frightened. What can it mean? she wondered.

For one horrible moment, she wondered if he regretted their marriage. But no, surely not. He had given her so many proofs of his feelings, loving her constantly through her blind prejudice, her angry rejection of him at Rosings, and her sad and uncomfortable awkwardness when they had met unexpectedly at Pemberley, that she was sure he could not regret it. And yet, there had been a look of torment on his face.

She had to know what it meant. Bracing herself for the worst, she turned towards him, only to find that the look had gone and that he was calmly reading through the messages.

She was startled, but then wondered if the glass had distorted his features. It was not a mirror, only a window. It was not meant to give reflections, and the light could play strange tricks even on the smoothest surface. Certainly there was no trace of any anguish on his face now.

The coach turned into the drive of Longbourn House, and seeing the crowd waiting to welcome her, she dismissed the matter. Neighbours who had hurried ahead were waiting to greet her, full of smiles.

The mood was infectious. Darcy helped her out of the coach and then shook hands with all the guests as both he and Elizabeth were showered with rose petals and good wishes.

Jane’s carriage, which had been behind Elizabeth’s, now arrived, and to the cries of ‘Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Darcy!’ were added cries of ‘Long life and happiness, Mr and Mrs Bingley!’

Elizabeth, banishing the last of her uncertainties, seized a handful of rose petals and threw them joyfully over her sister.

Mrs Bennet cried and said, ‘Three daughters married!’ and Mr Bennet cleared his throat more than was necessary for a man without a cough.

The whole party went inside. The hall had been decked out with flowers, and the guests passed through with much talk and laughter. They went into the dining room, where the wedding breakfast was laid out. The tables were spread with snowy white cloths and the crystal sparkled whilst the silverware shone. As the guests took their places down either side of the table, Mrs Bennet fussed in and out of the room, until Mr Bennet told her that Hill had taken care of everything.

‘Sit down, my dear, and leave everything to Hill,’ he said as Mrs Bennet bobbed up from her chair for the dozenth time.

In the centre of the table, a variety of food was arranged on china plates decorated with crystallised flowers. Cold chicken, snipe, woodcocks, pheasant, ham, oysters, and beef vied with colourful salads, the last of the year, and by their side were fruit tarts, syllabubs, and cheeses. In the very centre of the table were two wedding cakes iced with the initials E and F, and J and C.