Jane Bennet, soon to be Mrs. Jane Bingley within a few moments, paces the overgrown cemetery behind Meryton Church. Stretching her arms above her head to in an attempt to release some nervous vexation, she lets out a deep breath.
A pity you still dress for the ceremony, Lizzie, as I wish you were here, she muses. Rounding the old oak tree at the corner of the graveyard for what seems the thousandth time, she sighs again. As the wind blows, sending red and gold leaves flying along her feet, she's forced to wrap the fine white silk shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Tucking an errant strand of blonde hair back into the complicated bun at the nape of her neck, she paces along the moss-covered stone wall underneath the great stain glass window of the church. No matter, Lizzie, as I'm sure you prove in good spirits. Then again, Mr. Darcy doesn't exactly strike one as the most charming of men. Perhaps you marry for his mone-
She stops the thought as soon as it enters her mind, for she knows far better; Lizzie would never suffer a match built upon such pragmatically cold intentions. Granted, Mr. Darcy never proved an animated sort. Even at the celebratory dinner a fortnight ago at Longbourn, among family and friends, he remained withdrawn. Head bowed in hushed conversation with Lizzie, he gave naught but a distant expression of acknowledgement to the rest of them, speaking only when spoken to and remaining by his fiancée's side for the entirety of the evening. Not that his manners did not meet the highest expectations, as he otherwise proved exceedingly polite. But his rather uncomfortable disposition was quite obvious. Especially considering all the attention; even her Bingley appeared rather overwhelmed, the mass concentration of the Bennet women daunting, to say the least. By heaven, father could barely tolerate it, and he'd years of practice with such circumstances.
The sound of heavy footsteps on upon the grass speedily brings her out of her thoughts, as she grins without bothering to turn around.
"I believe according to custom, it is considered bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony. Particularly in her wedding gown."
"Then I am afraid I have stumbled across the wrong bride, madam," comes the slightly irritated retort. "Forgive me?"
"Mr. Darcy!" she declares.
Spinning about, she's forced to bite back a startled gasp of surprise mixed with a healthy hint of discomfort. Standing at the opposite end of the cemetery, he fixes her with a stare. Eyebrow arched and gaze narrowed with scrutiny, his mouth is set with a frown. In his impeccably fashionable wedding attire, he stands tall and rigid, as though made of cold marble. She catches the flash of what likely is the Darcy signet ring upon his right hand as he nervously plays with his fingers. However, seeing where she glances, he quickly clasps his hands behind his back.
"I did not expect it to be you," she stammers, breaking the heavy silence as she gives a deep curtsey, "I thought you were-"
"Bingley?" he steadily retorts, "Alas, no. Again, forgive me for interrupting you, Miss Bennet," he murmurs with a deep bow. Standing tall again, dark blue eyes quickly flit over her as his frown deepens. She's compelled to square her shoulders under the inscrutable gaze, gracefully clasping her hands in front of her.
"My I assist you in any way, Mr. Darcy?" she smoothly asks.
"I…I just wished to get a bit of air. I tend to find a walk helps me…clear my thoughts," he breathes, glancing around as though looking for the quickest route of escape. "Expecting solitude, I did not assume anyone to be here, as wandering around the graveyard," he awkwardly waves his hand about, "Quite macabre, considering the coming nuptials tend to emphasize the beginning of a new life rather than the end of one." He clears his throat, again fixing her with that impenetrable stare.
"I may ask the same of you," she nods, "Surely you are not rethinking the ceremony?" she thinly grins, only to regret her words as soon as they fly from her mouth. A startled expression flashes across his face, his cheeks shading a deep pink. Eyes wide and anxious as he worries his lip, he vehemently shakes his head in disagreement.
"I would never deign to dishonor-!"
"Forgive me, sir, as that proved my poor attempt at teasing," she swallows. "I am afraid I am so used to talking in such a careless manner with Lizzie… Elizabeth, that on occasion I forget myself." She does her best give him a reassuring grin, heartened by his more calm expression despite his returning frown. "Please, Mr. Darcy, enjoy your walk," she declares as she gathers her skirts, "I should make my way back anyhow, as the ceremony is no doubt soon to begin."
"It is I who intrude," he quickly replies, swiftly checking his pocket watch. "Besides, Miss Bennet, it is a half-hour until our respective nuptials begin. I believe Mr. Bingley is still preparing, for Miss Bingley gladly waits upon him, as pervasive as ever." He wrinkles his nose for a quick moment before catching himself. "And so you see, it was imperative I take a turn about the grounds. Hence, I should be on my way, as it is I who impose upon you." With that he gives a stiff nod before quickly making his way to the gate.
Jane arches a brow, mouth set with confusion as he spins on his heel. Ignoring her misgivings, she clears her throat, calling out, "Come sir, we may at least find each other tolerable enough to share this rather open area? Hence, I propose an accord; I shall remain here along the wall, up to the stones creating the main path at the center of the yard. Meanwhile, you may remain on your side, right up the entranceway. 'Tis fair?"
He quirks a brow, lip curling upwards in the beginning of a grin before his expression hastily shifts back its usual one of general detachment. Opening his mouth as though to speak, he snaps it shut, especially as she nods in agreement, continuing to silently wander along the pathway opposite him. Suddenly shaking his head, he crosses his arms.
"Whatever prompted you to think I find you intolerable, Miss Bennet?" The question is haltingly asked, his tone low and distant. "In fact, I assume that you would find it quite difficult to hold me in any sort of esteem, especially considering my previous actions in regards to you and, well-" He doesn't finish, watching as her brows shoot up with astonishment.
"I never meant to infer your opinion on me," she worriedly replies. Gathering her skirts once again, she begins speedily making her way out of the cemetery. Glancing back as she comes to the entrance gate, she continues, "I only wished not to disturb your well sought-after privacy. As for what else you infer-"
"It is true," he retorts, crossing the graveyard with long, purposeful strides and coming to a stop next to her. Despite her initial instincts, she remains solidly rooted in place. "While I am in no position to ask it of you, and it would prove rather appropriate for you to deny me such a consideration, would you endure my company for but a few moments longer? As I never made an apology directly to you pertaining to my interference between you and your future husband…'tis weighed heavily on me for some months now."
She silently nods for him to continue, surprised at the look of relief crossing his face. Father is right; he truly is the sort of man to whom one should never dare refuse anything which he condescends to ask.
"As loathe as I am to admit to such ungentlemanly behavior, I must declare it so," he begins, fingers twisting at his signet ring again, "I utterly regret that your sister relayed to you my initial, shall we say, apprehension to the match between yourself and my friend. Not that she should not have relayed it," he sighs, "But rather, I should never have come to such an unworthy judgment of you, nor sought to be the source of your discontent. It was wholly selfish."
Startled at his declaration, she turns to face him, immediately noticing in his expression appears neither insincere nor put-upon. In fact, he looks as though he waits with bated breath for her next words.
"I-I am at a loss for words, Mr. Darcy," she exclaims, though she quickly continues as his face falls, "Not that I do not accept your apology, for I did such quite long ago."
"Surely, you cannot accept that which has not yet been given?" he breathes, arching a brow.
"Nay," she replies, "But I may easily forgive the mistakes of others, especially when they do not appear intentional or truly malicious." Taking in her unperturbed expression, her voice calm and without resentment, Darcy is immediately relieved that Mercy appears a rather common Bennet trait.
"You have done me a great honor in your forgiveness," he murmurs after a long while with a low bow.
"And you show great courtesy in seeking such," she steadily replies with a low curtsey.
"Jane?" they both hear Mary faintly call out from the graveyard gate, "Lizzie sent me to fetch you…good morning Mr. Darcy," the middle Bennet child curtsies, averting her eyes from the surprised crystal blue gaze that takes her in.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy nods, "You look quite lovely today," he quietly declares.
"Thank you. Kitty…Catherine helped picked it out for the ceremony. So really, you should pay your compliments to her rather than I," she nervously replies, running her fingers along the edges of the light green muslin of her gown. "I am afraid I need assistance in such endeavors, as my tastes are apparently never quite spot-on. Or so I have been told, sir…or shall I say brother?" she swallows, cheeks rapidly turning pink. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she immediately falls still, though her hands anxiously continue bunching at the fabric on either side of her dress.
"'Brother' shall do just fine, Miss Mary," he replies as he makes his way over, "As I shall be such in but a few moments."
"Well then," she clears her throat, deep brown eyes wide as he fixes her with a slight but encouraging grin, "As I mentioned previously, Lizzie sent me to find my sister," she nods to Jane, "As they wish to begin."
"I shall be there in a moment," Jane smiles, "Thank you." Mary quickly curtsies before spinning on her heel and all but dashing back to the church.
"Has she always proven so…shy?" Darcy asks with an arched brow. Offering his arm, he nods with approval as Jane immediately links her elbow with his. They begin slowly making their way down to hill along path leading to the church.
"Yes," Jane replies with chuckle, "I'm afraid it lies in the curse of being the middle and often overlooked child. And though she may appear a bit long-winded, it's not the result of a dour or haughty temperament. Rather, she's an anxious disposition, resulting in a tendency towards forgetting herself, especially when among unfamiliar persons-"
"And strangers tend to come to their own, more often than not, false conclusions on her character, consequently. All despite knowing little of her true nature. I believe I am quite familiar with such a practice, especially in relation to your sister," he sniffs.
Glancing sideways at him, Jane lets out a slight sigh of relief to see his distant, though amused grin. He certainly contains an odd manner of speaking of one thing while his expression demonstrates another sentiment. At least Lizzie shall never become bored with such an enigma. "I assume you shall forgive her?" she continues, "Well, forgive all of us, really, for drawing a rather false first impression?"
"I forgave her long ago," he steadily replies. "If anything, again, I ask for your forgiveness, as this day should have arrived far sooner if not for my own indiscretion."
"Though I might have given the other party a bit more of the benefit of the doubt," she lightly begins, "I admittedly would have done the same to protect any I call a friend. And even more for a sister," she adds, patting his hand. "In the end, I am sure valuable lessons were learned all around. Besides, a few months' delay proves a pittance, especially considering that we shall shortly find ourselves bound to our respective other halves. Shall we forget this grievance?"
Gazing at her, he's stunned by her tranquil disposition, her fleeting grin honest and lacking in deception or false forgiveness. Overcome with relief, he squares his shoulders.
"It is settled then," he quietly nods.
They make their way to the back entranceway of the church. Deserted due to the wedding party waiting at the front of the church, they silently enter the vestibule.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy suddenly declares as removes her arm from his, "Or shall I say Mrs. Bingley?" She's rather astonished at the bright smile that suddenly flashes across his face. "I look forward to having you as a sister, as well as your continued friendship. There is none more worthy, charming or well-suited for Bingley." With that, he takes her gloved hand, blessing it with a chaste kiss.
"You flatter me, sir," she demurs, "Or shall I say brother? For I say same in regards to you, for Lizzie has found none more deserving of her affections and faith."
"I shall strive to live up to your opinion of me on a daily basis, madam. Shall we?" he gestures to vestibule as the opening notes of the service float over them. "I daresay, it would not do to be late to one's own wedding."
"Indeed" she retorts with a smile. "I shall see you shortly, at the altar, no doubt."
"And I, you. Take care of him, will you not?"
"I shall, as I ask you to take care with Lizzie, though I think she may prove the one taking care of you," she laughs. With that, she gives a curtsey, Darcy bowing in return before heading to the altar.
Swiftly making her way to the rear of church, Jane's immediately beset by her mother and Kitty. Pinning on her veil and pinching her daughter's cheeks to rosiness, Mrs. Bennet begins her usual chatter as Elizabeth rolls her eyes. Reaching out and taking Jane's hand as her bouquet is shoved into her other hand by Kitty, she fixes Jane with a quizzical expression. And where did you wander off to, dear Jane?
"For all of your Darcy's initially aloof nature, I think he shall suit you quite well," Jane whispers to Lizzie's silent question. Elizabeth beams as Jane relays what's occurred, squeezing Jane's hand with reassurance as Mrs. Bennet shoves them forward.
Moving down the aisle next to her beloved sister, she cannot help her serene smile. Especially as she hears Bingley's sharp exhalation of wonder as she comes to stand next to him. Glancing over to the other couple, she nods with approval as Darcy brings Elizabeth's gloved hand to his lips, gaze locked with his future bride as the vicar begins the service.
Aye, 'tis a match well made, indeed.
