A bride who has abdicated all responsibility for the planning of her wedding has made a terrible mistake.
As she lay awake in bed waiting for dawn to break on the morning of her wedding – her second wedding; Elizabeth knew she was forever cursed, whenever weddings were discussed in her presence, to have to acknowledge, if not justify, that she had had two weddings, with the same groom, and only the second one had taken – Elizabeth was very much afraid that she was that bride.
Her anxiety had been building almost she had reached town. She and William had agreed on a simple, quiet wedding by special licence free from the prying eyes of all but the closest family – just pop around the corner to see the local vicar, exchange 'I dos', and escape to the fabled Pemberley. But she had been buried in an avalanche of questions - not just about the wedding, but also her wishes for Darcy House and Pemberley – and she had been quite overwhelmed. She had been rescued, or so she had thought, by Jane and Lady Matlock. They had told her 'Don't you worry, dear, we'll take care of everything.' When she had protested that they were taking on too much they had told her 'Don't you worry, dear, we'll delegate.' And when she had despaired of ever providing the ton with a reason why she had jilted William, they had told her 'Don't you worry, dear, we'll come up with something.' They had been so reassuring. And she would have been reassured had there not been something in the way they had smiled at her, a hint of the ominous, so that she could not shake the feeling that she was a country mouse trapped in a corner by two town tabbies, tails a twitching, waiting to pounce when she moved.
To be fair to her sister, and her soon to be aunt, they seemed to have everything under control. 'Seemed' being the operative word, details were not forthcoming, although Elizabeth did learn to whom what tasks were delegated.
Aunt Gardiner had been delegated with keeping Elizabeth occupied. Which was logical as she was staying ('hiding out' was the way her uncle put it) with the Gardiners at Gracechurch Street. The specific occupation was acquiring a trousseau for Elizabeth. In which shops the said trousseau was to acquired had been in some dispute, Lady Matlock having insisted on certain shops favoured by the ton while Aunt Gardiner insisted on those shops she herself patronized – the matter only having been settled when Lady Matlock had gone through Aunt Gardiner's closets and drawers and had been forced to concede that the quality of the materials and workmanship of the clothing and linens found there was the equal of anything her ladyship owned (and at half the cost – a fact not lost on Lady Matlock who subsequently opened accounts for herself at those very shops).
When not being measured and fitted, poked and prodded, rotated this way and that, and generally having her opinions ignored as to fashion – Aunt Gardiner having by far a better sense of the elegant – Elizabeth spent at least two hours each day being educated by Lady Matlock in the arcane, abstruse and recondite ways of the ton.
When, at the first lesson, Elizabeth objected to the pointlessness and utter cruelty of one particular rule, Lady Matlock asked "Do you ever encounter an adder on any of your walks?"
Nonplussed by this non sequitur, Elizabeth answered "Yes, on my favourite walk, here's a rocky ledge where, on sunny days in the summer, they liked to bask."
"So, on sunny days in the summer do you cross that rocky ledge?"
"No, there's another way around." Elizabeth saw Lady Matlock raise an eyebrow at her. "Oh."
"Shall we continue? I'll tell you where the adders will be basking and you can decide at your leisure whether you will walk amongst them."
Aunt Gardiner did allow Elizabeth some time each day with Mr. Darcy. The couple were allowed to take the Gardiner children to the local park for an hour. The chaperonage by the children was haphazard and erratic but strangely effective. With four children one would think that there would be some time, however brief, when all four children would be completely occupied pursuing childlike activities thus leaving the young lovers to pursue lover-like activities. One would be wrong. There was always at least one child flittering about like a fly at a picnic; shoo that one away and two more would replace it. Threats were out of the question; subornation too difficult to explain; begging too embarrassing. Exasperation with such happy chaperones could not last long no matter how much would prefer to be chaperoned by Mary (who would be distracted by a book), by Kitty (who would be distracted by Maria Lucas), by Georgiana (who would be distracted by a pianoforte), or by Jane (who would be distracted by Charles – maybe not now; now that she was married to Charles; she had changed) and so Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy submitted with good humour - and Aunt Gardiner succeeded in one of her implied duties – to preserve the bride's virtue until the wedding.
Elizabeth quite approved of the past two weeks of shopping with her Aunt Gardiner, the tutelage by Lady Matlock, and even the chaperonage by the Gardiner children – although she half worried that William might have been put off having children. But what about the planning for the actual wedding?
Invitations had been delegated to Lord Matlock and Uncle Gardiner. What had Jane and Lady Matlock been thinking? Elizabeth had heard hints that the venue had had to be changed from the drawing room at Matlock House to the ballroom there - which could accommodate one hundred couples – and that led Elizabeth to think dark thoughts.
Music had been delegated to Mary and Georgiana. Had Elizabeth warned them off 'Greensleeves"? She could not remember. The lyrics were certainly not appropriate for a wedding – but the lyric 'Alas, my love, you do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously' maybe was appropriate for a second wedding, her particular second wedding. William wouldn't take his revenge on her by having it played, would he?
And décor – that had been delegated to Kitty and Georgiana. Did they know about her antipathy to the colour orange?
And who was taking care of the flowers? There had better not be any gardenias or orange blossoms.
William had been no help – he had just shrugged and said not to worry. She'd said that he just had to show up with the ring. And he'd said 'don't forget 'sober', my aunt seems to think that might be a problem, as if I were her son, Richard', but then he'd pointed out that she had even less to do – she just had to show up, she didn't even have to worry about any ring. And the fight was on. He had no sympathy for her worries - if it had been up to him, they'd have gotten married the first time. If it had been up to her, he would have died a horrible death the moment he said that, but the Gardiner children were watching, and he was grinning at her, and so he was reprieved – that once.
Elizabeth pulled the bed clothes over her head. Maybe, if she was really quiet … Polly got her up three minutes later.