“I, Fitzwilliam Darcy…”
His voice did not falter.
Nor did hers.
And then—
It was done. They were married.
And now they were on their way back to Rosings, entering the doors and being announced by the butler for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, to the polite applause of the assembled servants.
They passed through the crowd of starched uniforms and made their way into a large formal dining area, which had clearly been thoughtfully arranged. The table had been set with care, flowers placed where they might catch the light, and a modest but elegant spread laid out before them.
“I know it is just us, but your wedding day deserves to be recognized and celebrated,” Lady Anne said. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”
“I have a sister!” Georgiana exclaimed happily, filling her plate with cake.
“And I have another cousin,” Richard said with a smile.
“Speaking of Anne,” Lady Catherine said, “I am sorry she will not be joining us. She still does not feel enough courage to leave her rooms with so many people in the house.”
“Of course.”
Darcy inclined his head, though his attention strayed often—drawn, again and again, to Elizabeth seated beside him.
His wife.
The word felt both new and entirely right.
Conversation flowed more easily than he might have expected, aided perhaps by relief as much as by celebration. Even Richard, for all his usual levity, seemed content to let the moment remain unmarred by too much wit.
The cake—produced with impressive speed by Rosings’ cook—was cut and shared, to general approval.
At last, Lady Catherine rose.
“That will do,” she said decisively. “I believe we have celebrated sufficiently for the present.”
She turned her attention to the newly married couple.
“You have been given a suite of adjoining rooms in the guest wing,” she continued. “They have been prepared to afford you every comfort.”
Elizabeth’s color rose.
Darcy felt his own composure threatened for perhaps the first time that day.
“You will wish for privacy,” Lady Catherine went on, entirely untroubled. “The servants are at your disposal. Books have been provided—of a suitable variety—as well as a few games, should you require diversion.”
Richard coughed into his glass. Lady Catherine ignored him.
“It is not a wedding journey,” she added, with the faintest air of concession, “but it will serve. You are not to trouble yourselves about appearances. You will remain in your rooms for at least three days. You need not concern yourselves with being poor guests.”
Elizabeth was very decidedly blushing now.
Darcy cleared his throat. “You are most considerate, Aunt.”
“I am practical,” Lady Catherine replied. “There is a difference.”
Darcy inclined his head.
