Without Mrs Bennet at the meal, it began comfortably. Miss Bennet was perhaps quiet, but she was not as tense as she had been previously, even going so far as to tease Elizabeth lightly. Darcy wondered if she had at last made her peace with her sister; whatever the case, he was pleased she no longer appeared inclined to condemn their attachment.
“Lizzy, you have barely touched your breakfast this morning,” Miss Bennet said after several moments of conversation had passed, her tone mild but not without amusement. “You are usually far hungrier after one of your rambles, and I cannot imagine that you did not walk outthis morning. After all, you managed to find Mr Darcy and bring him here to join our breakfast.”
Elizabeth’s eyes met his for the briefest moment before she turned back to her sister, though not before Darcy caught the amusement in her expression. “I assure you, I did not go in search of him,” she said, her voice touched with laughter. “We encountered one another by chance, and I asked him to return with me, since he would be here all day regardless. He might as well break his fast with us.”
“An excellent chance,” Mr Bennet observed, without looking up. “I begin to think that our neighbourhood, so long deficient in eligible company, has at last discovered a method of supplying it—at least for one of my daughters.”
A faint stillness followed. Miss Bennet’s colour rose at once, her composure not quite equal to the remark, and something in her expression shifted in a way Darcy could not immediately interpret—whether pain or mortification, he could not be certain. Miss Mary, too, coloured, though with her the cause was even less clear.
Darcy’s gaze moved about the table. No one was untouched by the observation. Even Miss Kitty, who had been inclined to laugh before, seemed uncertain whether she ought, and Georgiana had clearly perceived the slight, though she appeared uncertain how to respond to it.
It was Miss Bennet who at last spoke. “I am certain,” she said, her tone gentle, though not entirely free from strain, “that we shall all be more attentive to such opportunities in the future. Particularly as so many of my sisters are soon to be away from home, I shall be the only one left who must rely upon the neighbourhood for society.”
Darcy felt a flicker of irritation at the attempt to smooth over what ought not to have been said, though he suspected the Gardiners would not permit the subject to linger too much further.
“You may be quite easy on that point, Jane,” Elizabeth returned lightly, though her eyes did not again meet her father’s. “As you say, most of my sisters will soon be gone from the neighbourhood, and I shall take careto invite them to London—or to my new home—so that they may meet with suitable company when it is required.”
“A very sensible resolution,” Mrs Gardiner said. “It would be unfortunate if chance alone were to determine the future of any family. You will do well, Lizzy, to bring your sisters to London once they are ready for society.”
The discomfort, already present, settled more firmly at the table, which remained silent for several minutes as all applied themselves to their breakfast.
At length, Mr Gardiner set down his cup with deliberation. “You have business with the rector this morning, I believe?” he said, turning to Darcy with easy composure.
Darcy nodded, and with that, the conversation was redirected to the coming nuptials.
Twenty
Not long after breakfast was concluded, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam set off for Meryton and their appointment with the rector. Their sisters accompanied them on the walk—including Georgiana, who had shown particular eagerness at the prospect of a visit to the nearby village—and would call at the shops while the engaged couple went on to the church. Mrs Annesley was with them, so Elizabeth did not worry about them, having sufficiently reassured Fitzwilliam that all would be well.
Elizabeth had known Mr Allen nearly all her life, and she greatly anticipated the meeting. That Fitzwilliam did not was equally clear; after the previous day’s service, he was convinced the rector meant to scold him further. She had attempted to reassure him more than once.
“He may be slightly more difficult than Papa, but only slightly, and for a very similar reason,” she had told him the day before, when he had again raised the subject. “Mr Allen wishes to ensure my happiness, and he remembers you from last autumn. I do not think it will take you long to convince him that we are in love and truly wish to marry.”
Fitzwilliam had appeared content with that assurance, yet Elizabeth still felt a trace of his unease as they made their way into the village. She leantmore closely into him, her hand tightening upon his arm, hoping in some small way to ease it.
At last they neared the churchyard, where the party would separate. “We will meet you near the bookshop when we are finished,” Elizabeth said. “Jane, Aunt Gardiner gave you her list of things needed for the wedding breakfast, did she not?”
Jane inclined her head, offering little in reply, and though it still troubled Elizabeth, she was determined her sister must resolve whatever weighed upon her in her own way. The previous evening, when Elizabeth had tried again to speak with her, Jane had claimed to be too tired.
Still, Elizabeth knew they carried several letters to be posted that morning, and she had seen Jane add one or two of her own to the pile. She wondered if one might be intended for Caroline Bingley, and though curiosity stirred, she would not press.
The two groups soon parted, and Elizabeth’s thoughts turned fully to Fitzwilliam. Few words had passed between them, which she had not minded, but he halted just before they entered the churchyard. The low stone wall lay just ahead, the narrow path leading towards the gate, and beyond it she could see the church door standing slightly ajar.
“I do not think I have said it often enough,” he murmured, bending his head so that his words reached her ear, his breath warm against her skin, “but I love you, Elizabeth—most completely, most fully. Before you, I had never imagined such an all-encompassing affection, and although I was miserable in the months between Hunsford and our meeting again at Pemberley, I believe they were necessary for our happiness. How can I be anything but happy now that I have you?”
Elizabeth lifted her free hand to his cheek. “And I love you, dear Fitzwilliam,” she replied softly. “I can scarcely imagine a better outcome from our meeting all those months ago, and the thought that in only two days we shall be married is more than I could ever have dreamed. I did not always love you as I do now, but I love you most dearly.”
He leant nearer, as though he had quite forgotten their surroundings.For a moment, Elizabeth forgot them as well. She knew they ought not—but she did not draw back.
The faint sound of movement from within the churchyard reached her just as his face drew closer still, and she had only the briefest instant to realise they were not alone.
The sharp clearing of a throat broke the moment, and they started apart.
“I suppose that gives me some assurance that this match is indeed a love match,” said Mr Allen, the Meryton rector, his voice grave, “but this is neither the time nor the place for such displays.”
Although his tone had been stern, when Elizabeth turned towards him she detected the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips, where he stood upon the steps of the church.
“I am pleased to see you again so soon, Miss Elizabeth, though I suspect your young man will carry you away from us before long.” He turned his attention to Fitzwilliam. “Your estate is in Derbyshire, if I recall correctly. Come—both of you—so that we may discuss your nuptials: the ceremony itself, and perhaps the wisdom of the match. For though what I witnessed was not quite proper, it gives me a good deal of hope for you both.”
