Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were relieved by the interruption; the conversation had become too difficult to continue. Mr. Darcy answered Mrs. Bennet’s question, saying that they had been discussing the likelihood of the weather being fair tomorrow.
“Darcy!” Mr. Bennet, entering the room and seeing his friend, called out his name. “No one told me you were here; have you time for a game of chess?” Mr. Darcy rose to shake hands with Mr. Bennet as he approached.
“I fear not,” Mr. Bingley said, rising from his seat. “My sister expects us back.”
“Shame, that,” Mr. Bennet replied. “I have missed my chess partner. When do you return to London, Darcy?”
“Immediately after the wedding breakfast,” Mr. Darcy replied. “But I too have missed our games.”
“Darcy will doubtless visit us at Netherfield after the Season, will you not? Darcy?” Mr. Bingley asked.
“We shall see,” was the noncommittal response.
***
The next day dawned as clear and beautiful as anyone might hope for in late February. Mr. Darcy stood beside his friend in the small chapel as they waited for the bride to arrive. “You are nervous, Bingley,” he observed.
“I am excited, not nervous, Darcy. Not the same thing.”
“You are right, it is not.”
“To marry the lady I love! An entire lifetime of happiness to look forward to! I am the most fortunate man alive, Darcy!” Mr. Bingley’s voice was filled with joy.
Mr. Darcy could not help comparing Mr. Bingley’s situation with that of his cousin Daniel. Daniel would be denied this lifetime of happiness…but then again, Daniel had never sought it. He only wished to fill his nursery so that the title would be safe; he had no interest in the bride.
And what do I want? Mr. Darcy wondered. I, too, could choose any young lady with sufficient dowry and connections and let her live in London while I continue at Pemberley. But he knew himself well enough to know that this would not content him.
What he wanted was Elizabeth Bennet. Was her lack of dowry truly that much of a problem? Was he selling his lifelong happiness, that which was lighting up Bingley’s face like the sun, for the amount of a dowry? He recalled Georgiana’s offer to give up ten thousand pounds of her own money if that would help her brother marry the woman he loved. He could not take Georgiana’s money, of course, but would he marry Miss Elizabeth if she had ten thousand pounds?
He would. Very well, what if she had eight thousand pounds, he asked himself. Yes, he would.
There was a commotion in the church and he was roused from his calculations. There was Miss Elizabeth, radiant in her rose gown! His eyes followed her as she walked up to the altar, smiled beautifully at Mr. Bingley and then stood on the other side of the altar, avoiding Mr. Darcy’s eyes.
There was a gasp, then, and his eyes left Miss Elizabeth for a moment to register the fact that Miss Bennet was now walking down the aisle. She was a stunningly beautiful bride in blue satin, there could be no doubt of it, but his heart was not touched by her.
He heard Mr. Bingley take a deep breath. “Is she not the loveliest creature on earth?”
He did not think a reply was necessary, for Mr. Bingley’s attention was completely on Miss Bennet. The two smiled at one another so tenderly that Mr. Darcy’s breath caught in his throat.
This is what he was giving up! He looked again at Miss Elizabeth, who was glowing with her own joy at having a beloved sister married.
The service was now underway, and Mr. Darcy did his best to give his attention to Mr. James. When it was over, the happy couple got into Mr. Bingley’s carriage and drove to Longbourn, leaving Mr. Darcy and the Hursts to make their way on foot.
“Could Bingley not have let us into his carriage?” Mr. Hurst grumbled.
“Surely you would not interrupt their first moments as husband and wife!” Mrs. Hurst protested, laughing. “Harold, do you not recall your own actions immediately after our wedding?”
Mr. Hurst was forced to laugh himself. “I do, of course, Louisa. You are right; I shall not begrudge Bingley his bit of privacy.”
They were at Longbourn soon enough; the house was filled to overflowing with guests, including the Gardiners from London. Everyone paused to congratulate the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley before making their way to the dining room to enjoy hot rolls, buttered toast, tongue, ham, chicken, eggs and, of course, the very elegant wedding cake in the center of the table.
Mr. Darcy’s recent social activities had not cured him of his distaste for crowds; he stood to the side to allow the other guests to fill their plates; only when the crowd had dispersed did he partake.
He knew he was very much on the verge of saying something, doing something, that his rational self would regret. He must leave as soon as possible.
He said his farewells to the Bingleys, the Hursts, Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet and then – finally – Miss Elizabeth. He bowed before her, but had no idea how to take his leave of her. It was she who released him, saying, “Good-bye, Mr. Darcy. I wish you good luck in London.”
“I thank you,” he replied gravely, his eyes still on her face.
