“I know you do not think so, Elizabeth,” her aunt said, sternly. “But jewelry is important. It is a symbol of a woman’s power and status. You are marrying into a wealthy and influential family; you will need to understand these niceties. One more thing. Knowing the family into which you are marrying, I have brought you some gowns. Kate sent me your measurements, and they should fit with little or no alterations required.”
“Oh! I thank you, Aunt! The wedding gown was quite enough of a gift, you know.” She looked about her, wondering where these additional dresses were hidden.
Her aunt smiled at her. “There is an additional trunk waiting downstairs to accompany you to Pemberley. You cannot arrive at such a destination without suitable clothing.”
Elizabeth reached out and hugged her aunt hard. Before releasing her, though, Elizabeth whispered into her ear, “Aunt, I am absolutely terrified.”
Her aunt whispered back, “You must screw your courage to the sticking place, as Lady MacBeth says.”
Elizabeth whispered back, shakily, that she hoped she would not be called upon to murder anyone.
Mary was to attend her sister; she had been persuaded to wear a gown in a deep rose, rather than her preferred brown, and to let Kate arrange her hair. Kitty had made a bouquet for her to carry as well.
***
Elizabeth descended the staircase in her wedding finery while her father waited below. Tears gathered in Mr. Bennet’s eyes. “Lizzy, you are the most beautiful young woman I have ever seen,” he said, hoarsely.
Elizabeth managed a laugh. “You know that is not true; we both saw Jane in her wedding clothes, and she was an angel come to earth.”
“You are every bit Jane’s equal,” he returned. “But, oh, how I shall miss you! Jane is three miles up the road, but you will be far from me. I know not how I shall bear it.”
“Will you write to me, Papa? I know you to be a dilatory correspondent, but I hope you will make an effort.”
“I will try, Lizzy, as I will want to know that you are well and well-treated. Write as soon as you can. And Mary, you are a very pretty girl; this colour becomes you quite well. I insist, however, that you leave off this pink stuff and return to brown as soon as may be. I do not want to lose all my daughters at once!”
Mary, unaccustomed to such praise, blushed deeply.
***
Meryton’s small church was packed full when Mr. Darcy, the Earl and Countess, the Bingleys and the Hursts arrived. It was well that the first pew was reserved for Netherfield’s occupants, or they would not have found seats. The second pew was reserved for those at Longbourn.
“Your bride is well-respected in the community,” the Countess murmured to Mr. Darcy as he escorted her to the front of the church.
“She is,” he replied, and walked to the front of the church to stand before the pastor.
Mrs. Bingley had been persuaded that there were enough ladies at Longbourn to prepare her sister for her wedding, and that her attention must be given to her guests. She agreed and so she had remained at Netherfield, but her heart was at Longbourn. She would not rest easy until she saw Elizabeth walking up the aisle.
The Bennets and the Gardiners walked into the church and took the pew that was reserved for the family. The Netherfield party rose to politely greet the Bennets and the Gardiners.
“Madeline!” the Countess greeted her friend. “I did not expect to see you here!”
“I had rather the advantage, then, as I knew to expect you, Eleanor!” Mrs. Gardiner laughed.
The Earl immediately extended his hand to Mr. Gardiner. “Edward! You are related to Miss Bennet?”
“I am her uncle, on her mother’s side, Matlock.”
The Earl laughed. “Darcy told Eleanor that his bride had relatives in trade in London. I hardly expected those relatives to be Edward and Madeline Gardiner!”
“There she is!” A whisper ran around the church; Elizabeth walked up the aisle, followed by Mary. Elizabeth looked neither right nor left, but straight ahead. The Countess noted that the bride’s face was pale, and her hands clenched the bouquet so tightly that the stems were breaking under her fingers.
She reached her bridegroom and stood beside him.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” he whispered, smiling at her.
“Good morning,” she replied, unable to resist returning his smile with one of her own.
Twenty minutes later, she was Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
