Knowing Miss Bingley's propensity to manipulate, Elizabeth was not surprised that they did not meet again until the wedding. It was not without trepidation that she walked up the aisle ahead of her sister, seeing Mr Darcy at Bingley's side. Both gentlemen turned. Bingley looked past her, his object his bride. But Elizabeth was unprepared for the look Mr Darcy gave her, or the feelings it stirred in her. She tore her eyes from his, her happiness for her sister drowned out by sadness for herself at what could have been, but for her blindness, her sister's foolishness, Wickham's... no she blamed herself first and foremost. She, who prided herself on studying human nature, who had accused him of pride and yet had sat in judgement, measuring him on a poor first impression. She had attacked him for assuming to understand Jane's feelings about Mr Bingley, but that had been rectified. If only her own false assumptions, which had now been painfully corrected, could be forgiven. If only the price of self-knowledge were not so high.
She caught his eye again at the reverend's pronouncement that Jane and Bingley were man and wife. Charles was grinning so much so that she laughed. She looked past him and her laugh caught in her throat. Mr Darcy looked sad. For a moment she wondered if he might be envious of his friend's happiness, but she shook herself out of such wishful thinking and gave him a smile.
In a moment, she knew she must take his arm and walk out of the church behind the happy couple, as if they were common and indifferent acquaintances. In fact they must meet every six months or so by chance, at the Bingley's, it seemed inevitable. She would ever be faced with such a reminder of what might have been.
His touch was light as he placed her hand on his arm. She was far too aware of his warmth, coming through her gloves. One day he would probably marry. Elizabeth could only hope that their visits to the Bingley's would rarely coincide.
"Are you well?" His voice was only just audible above the music and applause.
She looked up at him and nodded, forcing a smile to her features. Then they were at the doors and she let him go, stepping ahead to congratulate Mr and Mrs Bingley. Her friends and family members soon piled out of the church and she was easily distracted by one and then another conversation. When she eventually stood alone for a moment, she found herself searching for him. To no avail. Miss Darcy smiled at her from the edge of the crowd and Elizabeth passed through the people to greet her new friend.
"Good morning, Miss Darcy. Are you well?"
"I am." The girl grinned. "And you?"
"Yes."
"It was a beautiful wedding." Miss Darcy said.
Elizabeth nodded. "They will be very happy."
"I think they have begun already. I have not seen Mr Bingley without a smile on his face the entire time I've been in the county."
Elizabeth laughed, "Yes, at some point his cheeks must begin to ache."
On Miss Darcy's laugh her brother approached.
"Good morning Miss Bennet."
Elizabeth curtseyed, "We were just marvelling at Mr and Mrs Bingley's smiles."
"Yes, at some point the facial muscles must tire."
Miss Darcy laughed again. Elizabeth put her hand to her lips.
Mr Darcy looked from one to the other, quizical.
"That's just what Miss Bennet said." Georgiana explained as soon as she was able. "Excuse me, I think I will get some refreshment." She ducked away before her brother could insist he provide for her.
Once she was out of earshot, he spoke. "I have rarely seen her so relaxed in company. Are you certain you will not be in town this winter?"
"My Aunt has invited me, but my Father is reluctant to lose two daughters at once."
"I cannot fault him for that."
"I believe Mr Bingley and Jane plan to remove to town at the end of the season. I am welcome to join them but I am reluctant to intrude so soon after their marriage."
He smiled softly and nodded, understanding, if not happy about it.
Wondering if she merely wished to see him disappointed, she summoned the courage to speak on, "It is a good thing you and I have called a truce and found something of a friendship, as we will undoubtedly cross paths again and again now."
"Yes. I am very glad we understand oneanother better." And glad we will meet again, he thought but did not say aloud.
"When do you remove to town?"
"This afternoon."
"So soon?" She spoke without thinking.
He smiled. "We would not wish to intrude at Netherfield."
She nodded. Her chest ached with the dread of impending loss.
"Miss Bennet, are you well?"
She schooled her features to a smile, "Yes," her voice caught and she tried again, "Yes, thank you."
"May I get you a drink of something?"
"Thank you."
He waited for instruction.
"Water, thank you."
He bowed and left her.
She watched him go, knowing he would return. But not for long. How could she bare it? She should be glad of his leaving, that he would no longer haunt her with lost possibilities, but she must admit to herself there was still a shred of hope. She wondered if it would ever die.
He held out the glass and she thanked him then drank. He seemed to be waiting for something. She looked up at him expectantly but he did not speak.
She smiled at the thought he was saving himself the trouble of talking to strangers by standing beside her.
He caught her look. "Might I ask what amuses you?"
"You may ask."
He sighed and she laughed.
"I was merely wondering if you were standing at my side to avoid the need to... recommend yourself to strangers."
"I need no such inducement."
She looked quizical and he seemed to gain courage all of a sudden.
"Dare I ask again?"
"Ask what?" She asked innocently, clearly without comprehension of what he meant.
He hesitated, his expression very serious.
"Mr Darcy!" Miss Bingley's distinctive voice, "There you are. How you must long for London. I must agree with you. I am heartily tired of the country, and to know of all that we are missing in the height of the season. And dear Georgiana, her first season, no less."
Elizabeth watched Darcy's unease with less amusement than usual, and soon excused herself, feeling that would be the simplest way of bidding him farewell – not doing it at all.
