Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. Here is your reward.

I wish I could offer a similar incentive today, but I have quite a bit more work to do on the penultimate chapter (and the last one from Darcy's POV), so cannot post probably until Saturday. Of course, reviews might spur me on to write and revise faster.

Chapter 58: Her Ribbon and My String

I returned forthwith to the master's chambers, my chambers. But rather than getting to rest just then, was met by Jeffrey, "Ah, Mr. Darcy, it is well that you are here." He gestured to the clothes he had laid out. He shaved me and then said, in keeping with our usual practice, "I shall return in a few minutes to help with your cut away."

As soon as he left (likely simply lingering on the other side of the servant's door), I dressed in my best white linen shirt, black breaches, and grey waistcoat. Then Jeffrey returned and helped me into my black cut away and spent some time tying my best silk cravat in a more elaborate manner than usual. "If you can, remain standing so you do not cause creases."

I hardly thought that mattered, especially as I would be riding in said breaches, but to please him simply said, "I will."

Jeffrey then stood and looked at me for a moment, "I am happy for you, sir."

I gave a nod and he left.

As promised, I remained standing. I spent much of my time playing with the wedding ring, twirling that unbroken circle of gold around my pinky finger. When I finally placed it in my pocket, I felt the little slip of her ribbon (which I had placed there almost the next moment after Jeffrey left) and drew it out. It may have been silly, but as always, I was carrying it with me, though by this time it was sadly worn. I gave the ribbon a little kiss and tucked it back into my pocket.

When only a few minutes remained, I said a fervent prayer while still standing. I prayed to God the Edwin would not cause any problems today and that God would sort out whether they should marry or not. Then having given that into his hands, I prayed about my upcoming marriage.

I prayed that I would be a good husband to best of my ability and that if I lacked in any area, that He would help me remedy that lack. I also prayed that our marriage would be a long and happy one. Finally, I thanked him for the gift of my precious Elizabeth, for his guiding hand in helping me overcome the obstacles that could have prevented our union, the answer to all my prayers.

I heard a knock and then opened my eyes after murmuring a quick "Amen."

It was Bingley who entered at my "Come in." He was dressed quite fine himself. The rumpled, sleepy man at breakfast was gone.

"It is about time."

I nodded.

We walked to the front drive to await my mount and his carriage, which had already been ordered. Bingley made no idle chit-chat, which I appreciated. When we gained the outside, I saw we were the only ones there I asked, "And the rest?"

"It is early yet for the guests. Have no fear, Lady Catherine will get them there in time."

I would have liked to see my sister then, to have Georgiana's reassurance, to have her squeeze my arm and say "All will be well, brother," but she was not one for rising early in the morning if she could help it (and how much more precious was her aid those months ago in Kent in going walking with Miss Elizabeth and I when she would have rather still been abed). Doubtless, too, she was in the process of dressing for the ceremony.

Therefore, I was surprised that rather than Bingley's carriage and my horse being brought around, instead it was an open carriage that I had not seen before (our nearest open carriage was in London). Our carriage horses hitched to the open carriage, which seemed quite fine. But the bigger surprise than our mode of transportation, was that my sister was seated inside. Georgiana waved at us as we neared.

When the carriage stopped, Georgiana addressed me from it "I know you do not like surprises, Brother, and indeed I would have told you about this last night, but you disappeared for the evening and I expect you were in no mood to speak to anyone then. Lady Catherine helped me arrange to rent this carriage. For the two of us are in agreement that you cannot ride to the church and dirty your fine clothes and you can hardly expect your wife will be pleased if you ride away from the church and leave her to be escorted back for the wedding breakfast and then afterward to Netherfield without you by her side. It would not be seemly and might hurt her feelings."

I had been looking forward to riding if only the short distance to the church and felt the familiar twisting in my stomach when things were not going according to plan, but I forced myself to think through what she had said. It took me more than five minutes of thinking (which Bingley and Georgiana respected by remaining silent), to accept that it would be best to heed my sister's counsel in this (as I had heeded Bingley about the master's and mistress's chambers).

"Very well," was all I said, but this was enough to have her smiling.

I climbed into the carriage and sat beside my sister, while Bingley took the backwards facing seat. He was silent and let me and my sister talk.

"I am so glad that we are going there now together," Georgiana leaned into my side. "I am so pleased for you both."

"I am glad you are here, too. I was regretting I would not see you before the ceremony. You were such a part of bringing us together, that it is fitting you be here with me for this part, also."

"I am glad to be here, to support you as best I can. I know change is difficult for you, but this shall be a good change, I am certain of it."

"I am as well."

"Are you nervous about getting married?" Georgiana asked me.

"A little. I shall not like to have everyone's eyes upon me, to be in front of everyone. But as for marrying Miss Elizabeth, I have no doubts about wanting to do that. I am worried that despite my best efforts, I may not be fully capable of being the husband that she deserves."

"All shall be well, Brother," Georgiana told me, squeezing my arm. I felt some of the tenseness in my shoulders lessen. "For you love her, and she loves you. That is not the answer to everything, but because you love each other, you shall try to please the other. Just make sure you ask her what she is thinking and feeling, that you take the time to truly listen and understand, that you support her in all things. You can do this, for you are such a good brother to me. It cannot be so different to be a good husband."

"I hope you are right, Georgiana. We have been focused so long on simply getting married, that all that lies ahead still seems daunting."

Georgiana responded again with another reassuring squeeze.

"Brother, you did not mention it, but I wish to reassure you that I believe we have matters with Edwin well in hand. All of us shall surround and silence him."

Georgiana straightened her back and her face gained a certain dignity and authority. In that moment she reminded me of both our mother and Lady Catherine. She was every bit the granddaughter of an Earl then.

"And further than that, perhaps a half an hour ago I had a most solemn talk with Edwin about how today is not about him, that he must respect that it is your wedding day in its entirety. I told him then that if he should do anything before others of which I did not approve, he would not have to worry about you barring him from your houses, for I would do it in your stead and you would support me. If Edwin does not want to have to return to the Earl, or live friendless in Derbyshire shifting for himself in his own house (for I made it clear I would give him the cut-direct if need be and with the power of Pemberley and you behind me, no one will have aught to do with him if we choose to reject him), he has no choice to obey."

I was astonished and dumbfounded at this new Georgiana, not girl at all anymore, but a lady, a lady of strength! In what she said, I felt much reassured. This was not a Georgiana that anyone should wish to cross, least of all Edwin. All of that would have been enough for me to be reassured that Edwin would cause no trouble during the wedding or the wedding breakfast.

The carriage had arrived at the church then, but Georgiana halted me from exiting, saying "There is more I would tell you. Do we have time, Mr. Bingley?"

"Yes," he affirmed, "we are quite early yet."

"That was all I planned to do," Georgiana explained. "Warning him off ill behavior today was my sole purpose of meeting with him. But then it occurred to me that, given how Edwin reacted, I had it within my power to gain you further respite. Therefore, while he was contrite and agreeable, I directed Edwin to write a letter to Mr. Bennet, proposing that they meet to discuss matters further on Saturday. I said doing so would be a very tangible way for him to confirm that he intended to honor his word.

"While this means we all must remain at Netherfield until at least that day, I determined that was the better option than trying to resolve things today or tomorrow. A messenger was sent with that missive just a few minutes ago. I hope what I did was right."

I hastened to reassure her. "Georgiana, yes it was. Perfectly so." I was so pleased with her solution that I hugged her just then, and she hugged me back.

When we released each other, I heard Bingley (who I had almost forgotten was with us in the carriage, facing us) murmur, "Bravo, Miss Darcy. Your brother is most fortunate to have the loyalty and support of a formidable woman."

Georgiana blushed but looked pleased.

I exited and then helped Georgiana down. As she stepped down, she seemed once more the sweet Georgiana of before.

When we entered the small anteroom in the church, Georgiana gave me a final squeeze and then proceeded into the sanctuary. Then the bald man who would officiate my wedding (was he a vicar, a rector? I could not recall) ushered Bingley and I into his private office and left us there, promising to fetch us when it was time.

Suddenly, nervousness exploded within me, the reassurance I had gained from Georgiana that I would be a good husband simply gone, and I found myself pacing round and round the priest's desk. I asked Bingley, "Can I really do this, be the husband that Miss Elizabeth deserves?"

"Of course, you can!" Bingley stepped into my path, forcing me to halt, leaned over toward me and rested his right hand firmly on my left shoulder before giving me two pats as he took it away. That was his way, two pats, always two pats, and the familiarity of it was comforting.

As Bingley faced me, he entreated, "Do not doubt yourself. I forbid it. You are ready, I am certain."

I took in a deep breath and tried to breath it out slowly. It came out a bit quivery, such was the tension in my chest.

"And again."

I took another deep breath and as I breathed that one out, I felt a bit less shaky.

"I have faith in you, Darcy. For while you are imperfect, you are the best of men. Life with you shall never be simple, but in the end all will be well. Do not worry about everything, just focus on getting married. Close your eyes for a moment and think about how happy you will be in seeing her walk toward you."

I closed my eyes then and tried to picture Miss Elizabeth walking toward me down the sanctuary aisle. I could not do it. Instead, I smelled mud mixed with chicken droppings. I was back, back behind Mrs. Collins's chicken coop with my beloved at my side.

I recalled in several quick flashes everything that had come before, admiring Miss Bennet while she stayed at Netherfield and tended her sister, but also fearing how she made me feel and wanting her gone. I recalled finding her ribbon on the rosebush thorn, and how I had thought at first it was a butterfly. I recalled all my preparations for hoping to dance with her, the poem that captured how I felt and how during our dance I had learned that George Wickham had poisoned her against me and hoping in vain that she would let me correct her misapprehensions about whatever he had said about me.

I remembered being in London, thinking there was no reason to hope, and then discovering from Mr. Collins's letter how Miss Elizabeth was come to the parsonage for a visit. I recalled telling Georgiana about it and her determination that she would come with me to Kent to help me win Miss Elizabeth's love (for I had known since the ball that I loved her). I recollected how Miss Elizabeth had not thought well of me at all, how during our walks had railed at me for her sister's loss of Bingley, had believed Wickham until Georgiana set her right. I remembered how gradually, over the course of many walks Miss Elizabeth overcame her misperceptions. I recalled Miss Elizabeth's expression when she picked up and recognized her yellow ribbon when I accidentally dropped it when retrieving a handkerchief for her, how it had been entwined in the string and how bereft I felt when she untwisted them and gave my string back.

I remembered the fear that Edwin would harm Miss Elizabeth (which fortunately was not true), and the joy when I heard her defending me to him, and then, then how she had given me her ribbon, and I had given her my string. I recalled many little moments when I had felt her fondness for me might be growing, that I might have leave to hope, such as when we held hands while Mrs. Collins kept Mr. Collins distracted. I also remembered how Miss Elizabeth stayed away when Anne scared her with her anger, how she worried I might treat her that way some day. But yet, somehow, she had come back, and I had leave to hope again.

I remembered I had been as clear in my intentions as I could be, that I wanted some day to marry her. But the actual moment, when I would propose, I had not planned for that moment.

I recalled feeling a quiet desperation in being separated from Miss Elizabeth by the days of rain, as her scheduled departure loomed (for yes, she would travel with my party, but all might end when she was back with her relatives). I remembered how when it was only barely possible to ride to see her, I could wait no more (and rode to her at the slowest pace imaginable given all the mud). I remembered reaching the parsonage and not knowing what to do or say, but how Mrs. Collins helped, entreating me to take Miss Elizabeth on a walk. I recalled how Mrs. Collins had taken her own brown shawl and wrapped it around Miss Elizabeth so there was no delay.

I recollected the unpleasant sensation and sound of the mud squelching on my boots as I took each step, the general dampness, and one drip of sweat slipping down my back. I remembered the fear that either of us might slip and fall and how I always made sure Miss Elizabeth was on the higher, drier ground. I could never forget feeling her hand on my arm, her holding on a bit tighter than before, but not knowing if it was because she was pleased to be with me or feared slipping. I remembered her admission of missing me.

I recalled much more than all these things, what it was like when I kissed Miss Elizabeth for the very first time behind the chicken coops at the parsonage. Just before that moment, the look on her face was not one that I had seen before and then her hands were on my arms, my hands found her waist and we moved towards each other. The kiss had just happened somehow as we embraced.

I could even now recall how our arms encircled each other, the taste of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the feel of my hand on the bare skin just below her neck with the shawl atop it and the feel of her dress buttons against my other hand. That kiss was the most wonderous thing that had ever befallen me in my life, something that she had given me.

Being a man of honor, I knew I had to ask for Miss Elizabeth's hand then and there, but I had no fancy words, only the truth: "I love you. Will you marry me?"

I recalled us gazing at one another as I awaited her answer, being filled with both hope and fear. I recalled her rosy cheeks, her slightly parted lips, how it seemed like the moment stretched on and on until she had smiled and said "Yes."

Oh, how much joy I had felt then! I remembered how my eyes filled with tears, tears of happiness and relief, tears for how everything could have gone wrong, but had gone right instead. I recalled the myriad of emotions I felt and tried to analyze. And then we kissed again.

I remembered with perfect clarity the little commenting voices in my head, the triumphant "See Fitzwilliam, you are worthy. She has chosen you," which was interspersed with the voice of doubt.

It was all of these things that I thought of when Bingley asked me to picture Miss Elizabeth walking toward me down the aisle. And though I did not think of what he suggested, it occurred to me then that her walking toward me in a few minutes, that single act would begin the culmination of all that came before, be a confirmation of everything in the most permanent of ways. It was too much, yet it was all that I wanted as well.

By now my breath was slow and even. I opened my eyes. Bingley was still standing there. He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. "Any minute now, I think."

He was still putting his pocket watch away when the priest came, ushered me to the front of the church where my new life was set to begin.

I do not remember much of the ceremony, or what her sisters wore. I could not tell you who was in attendance, for I never looked out at anyone, for my eyes were focused solely on her and even that was challenging at times for my eyes felt wetter than usual, although I was determined it would be beneath the Darcy dignity to cry. For I was feeling too much to make sense of most of what was occurring, the sensations of it all almost overwhelming as an internal voice said over and over "We are marrying, we are marrying" and then later, after I had placed the ring on her finger, "we are married, we are married." I know the usual words were said, the prayers made, the scripture read, and we took communion together, but these things were as waves of water washing over me; I was aware of them, but not aware of every nuance of them.

There are two moments that I remember best, moments that I have fixed in my mind that I take out and relive when times are difficult, bad, awful, abysmal. These horrid times seem to fall into two general categories (although it me rather a long time to come to this conclusion):

(1) I learn that I have failed completely as a husband, either because she or someone else has told me so (or infrequently I figure it out myself). For example, I have completely misunderstood what she needs, have not picked up on any of her cues (perceived them not at all or misinterpreted them). Or if she has patiently deigned to set it all out, rather than accepting it, I have rallied against her perception of things and what she needs, almost as if we are debating, rather than that my wife is explaining me what she needs from me.

There comes a moment when I finally understand, that rather than being the husband she needs I have been the opposite, have added to the burdens that life as given her, have wounded her as only I can because of how much she cares for me. The emotion of knowing how I have hurt her feels like a heavy stone in my stomach. I feel all the weight of what I have done to her, and I wonder why she ever married me. Even in remembering all our happiness, in such a time I regret that I fought so hard for a marriage that is not what she needs. For why should she be tied to someone like me? My consequence, how well I can provide for her physical well-being is nothing if I am making her unhappy.

(2) I am filled with anger that is so far beyond frustration that I must be far, far away from the house so that when I give vent to my spleen and rage, what I do or say cannot frighten her or anyone else. Although of course when I am feeling that way, I do not always make it away from her, sometimes having to voice to all the angry words before I act them out in a more physical way that would scare her even more.

These occasions may have nothing to do with her, but the worst of these is when the thing that provoked me was how repeatedly she cannot seem to understand what I need and goads me instead of soothing me. Raging separately can help, but I cannot leave it all there off in the woods, no matter how many things I break and destroy, because how I feel stays with me, like maple syrup on the skin that I cannot wash off. Experiencing the second, often leads to the first when hours or days later I am finally calm and understand myself or from someone else, what I have done and how it has hurt her.

So, to counteract those moments, it is helpful to have two beautiful moments from our wedding day, moments that a poet could immortalize in verse, while I just have the feeling and the memory:

(1) I recall with perfect clarity, as if it just occurred, my darling entering the sanctuary on her father's arm, that golden moment when she was walking toward me, and I knew that soon, soon, my dreams of happiness with her as my wife are on the cusp of being fulfilled.

My beloved was dressed in a new butter yellow dress (the color I instantly knew chosen as a reminder of the ribbon I carried in my pocket). She was holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hand. Her hair was topped with a crown of flowers, her fine eyes looking toward me, a slight smile upon her lips.

I remember waiting for my darling to approach, knowing that when our hands were joined and our vows said, that we would never have to be parted again. I also remember the swell of happiness within my breast, the feeling that it was all too good to be true, almost overwhelming in its intensity that made me want to leap for joy (even though I knew all too well that I had to be solemn now). I knew as I gazed at her, I could never love another as I loved her.

(2) The second moment is like a bookend to the first, the conclusion and fulfillment of our vows. It occurred just before we left the church when we were about to sign the marriage lines but were waiting for Miss Bennet and Bingley to sign as our witnesses. Something was keeping them, not Edwin, but some murmured conversation between the two of them.

I was able to just look at my wife, to affix her image once more in my mind by studying her most carefully. My eyes swept over all of her beloved features, her dark eyes, her freckles, her curly dark hair, crowned with a circle of flowers, a few tendrils escaping that my fingers longed to touch. I studied her yellow dress, similar yet not the same as the one from before.

Then my gaze returned to her flowers, which were not all red roses (likely from Longbourn's gardens) as I had supposed before. Instead, interspersed with them were those wildflowers which I had separately gathered and gifted her with (through the proxy of Edwin) the previous day. I could see the white of Queen Anne's lace, the bright yellow of the kingcup and the pink of the dog rose. Although they were slightly wilted, the effect was most becoming, and more precious to me than how she looked crowned with the flowers, was that she had wished to wear my humble gift on this most important of days. My wife, my wife! was always thinking of me.

But I did not expect what my wife showed me next, when she tilted her bouquet. Tied around the stems, over a large swath of lace, was my humble piece of string. She whispered to me, "Do you see your string? I have kept it with me since that day. This morning I was recalling when you had to separate my ribbon from your string to give it back to me and, later, when I gave my ribbon back to you and you gave me your string in exchange, so we each had a token of the other."

I nodded, my heart beating hard and fast in my chest, my lips dumb, too overcome with emotion to say a word, and pulled her ribbon from my pocket. I left it in my outstretched gloved hand, inviting her to take it if she wished. Elizabeth placed her gloved hand in mine, pressing the ribbon between our hands rather than taking it. I enjoyed the feel of her hand, imagined I could feel the slightly thicker material of her ribbon between us.

While still holding hands, my wife addressed me. "Fitzwilliam, I do not understand how somehow you had the boldness to claim my ribbon from where I left it abandoned in the rose garden, how that little discarded length became precious to you. What did I do to deserve such attentions? I was hardly even kind to you at Netherfield."

"Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to claim it and keep it. I scarcely had any hope then." I confessed, holding her hand a little tighter.

"I might have thought the same then, but in Kent when I saw that you had it, I started to understand your better. I remember thinking, how tender is his heart, that he would take such care with such a little thing just because it reminds him of me?"

"I hoped even though I had no cause to hope."

"Yet, I am so glad you did. I think, perhaps, somehow, I have been tied to you since then, sort of as if by invisible leading strings, if such could exist between a man and a woman, with neither of them leading the other, but being connected just the same. I just did not know it."

With our clasped hands, she gave me the three firm squeezes marking the words "I" "love" "you."

I returned the three squeezes back, while whispering the matching words to her.

Then my wife asked, "Tonight may we intertwine my ribbon and your string?"

I nodded again.

Elizabeth told me, "They should never be parted again."