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“In my defense, aunt, he did not lock the case.” Elizabeth tried to appear innocent.
“Which you took as permission?” her aunt inquired.
Elizabeth barely met her aunt’s eye. “Yes?”
“Never mind,” Aunt Gardiner said, resigned. “It will make our little talk easier. You know that there will be some pain, the first time?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“And you are aware of the mechanics of the act?”
“Yes, although I presume it will be different in practice.”
Aunt Gardiner smiled. “Your husband will show you.” She perched on the edge of the chair. “Now, when the time comes, you may think it is impossible for his part to fit into yours. Do not be anxious. Your body was made to accommodate his.” She reached forward to pat Elizabeth on the hand. “Mr. Darcy appears to be very much in love, Lizzy, and for men, the physical part of your relationship is an essential part of how you show him your love.”
“Is it only men? Is it wrong for me to anticipate that part of our marriage?” Elizabeth asked, embarrassed.
“Of course not! When two people love one another, the marriage bed can be wonderful for both,” Aunt Gardiner fell quiet. “I think the best advice I can give you,” she said at last, “is to be patient with yourself and with him. And that when you two are alone in bed—Lizzy, that is not the time to tease him. You often use humor when you are overwhelmed for good or ill, but if you tease or laugh at the wrong time, even if your laughter comes from anxiety, you may hurt his feelings.”
Elizabeth was dismayed. “Would it really? I would never wish to do that.”
Her aunt nodded. “That is not to say that humor has no part in your . . . activities. But you are marrying very quickly. Until you know one another better, allow him to take the lead.”
This was not something Elizabeth would ever have considered. Aunt Gardiner had likely saved her from a dreadful mistake. “I am so grateful, Aunt,” Elizabeth said warmly. “I will certainly follow your advice.”
They stood, and Aunt Gardiner kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “You will make Mr. Darcy a wonderful wife, Lizzy,” she said affectionately.
There was a knock, and Jane appeared in the doorway. “The countess says that the carriages have arrived.”
Elizabeth’s excitement soared. It was time.
Darcy tugged at the hem of his glove as he waited near the altar of St. George’s. The building was drafty, and he hoped Elizabeth had dressed warmly. At least the ceremony would not take above half an hour.
Aunt Matlock had enjoyed using her status as a countess to persuade the church to make room for her nephew’s nuptials. As the largest church in Mayfair, St. George’s was also responsible for the most marriages—over a thousand a year. It was a busy place—there were three other weddings scheduled this morning. The vicar would not dally.
A young couple had just finished signing the register and departed with their families. Almost the moment they stepped out the side door, he and Fitz were joined before the altar by Miss Bennet. Mr. Gardiner and the earl stood to hand the other women in their party up the step and into the pews. Henry was not inside, but then, he was not reliable. It would not surprise Darcy at all were Henry to miss the ceremony altogether and only appear for the breakfast afterward.
Henry might not be here, but activity near the back of the church told him that Elizabeth was. Darcy stood a little taller. From the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Bennet offer him a tender smile. Fitz shuffled his feet noisily, but all of Darcy’s attention was now focused on the spot where his bride stood with her father.
Darcy remembered how beautiful Elizabeth had been at the Netherfield ball, the last time he had seen her so formally attired. He had known that night that he would have to leave Hertfordshire if he did not plan to offer for her, for his heart was in danger. But now his heart was safe in her keeping.
Elizabeth was attired in a beautiful gown, but all he could think of was how well she appeared in it and how this evening he would be allowed to see her out of it. He stared as she approached, unmoving until there was a small nudge at his back. Fitz was standing beside him.
“Church, Darcy,” his cousin hissed in his ear. “You are in a church.”
He blinked. Right.
Mr. Bennet smirked, but Elizabeth returned Darcy’s look with a bashful one of her own that did not help him to focus upon the ceremony.
As expected, they proceeded without delay. By the end, he barely recalled the words other than a few scattered phrases. Elizabeth, promising to love, cherish, and obey him, the last to which she would undoubtedly append “when he is correct.” Sliding his grandmother’s ring on her finger and repeating, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” He remembered kneeling, but the next phrase that really made its way into his consciousness was “let every one of you in particular so love his wife, even as himself.” He had sent up a little prayer of his own that he would deserve her love in the same way, for if Elizabeth respected him, loved him, he would truly be a wealthy man.
Then they were at the register and he signed his name. He was pleased to see that his hand was steady and his signature clear.
As Elizabeth signed herself as a Bennet for the last time, Darcy heard the heavy footsteps of someone in great haste drawing closer. As his wife completed her task and her sister picked up the pen, Darcy turned to see Fitz stepping forward to position himself between the intruder and the women.
Their surprise guest ought not to have been much of a surprise at all. Darcy glowered at his uncle, who grumbled something under his breath and had the good grace to look abashed. The man could not have waited another day to goad his sister?
For it was Lady Catherine de Bourgh stalking to the altar of St. George’s with the speed of Arion.
And Henry, blast him, was right behind her.
