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A Wicked, White Cravat
by Anton M.

Chapter 11: The Wedding

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Jane was still asleep when Elizabeth woke up half an hour after noon. Her wrists were red and swollen, more so than the night before, but it was nothing she could not handle.

They had arrived home at six AM and, as always, slept longer than usual after a ball.

Elizabeth freshened up, got dressed (continuing to wear gloves), and headed downstairs to eat. She yawned. In her sleepiness, she had almost passed the library before she turned and stared at the two men in uniform standing on either side of the door.

They nodded at her.

Elizabeth knocked on the door, which her father opened.

"Papa, there are two officers—"

Darcy stood up, bowing to Elizabeth. His eyes softened at the sight of his bride. "The blame is mine, Ma'am. I employed Officers James and Martin Birks to protect you until the wedding." Darcy introduced her to the brothers before closing the door.

Elizabeth became wholly aware of the old, unflattering dress she was wearing, but it was too late to go change. Her father motioned for her to sit, and they all did. Hungry and unsure how long they would be in the library, Elizabeth asked the maid to bring extra bread and tea, for some had already been brought for Darcy.

"Sir, I do not know if the officers are necessary," Elizabeth said.

Darcy shifted his chair closer to Elizabeth's and took hold of her hand. She noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. "Elizabeth, you may ask anything of me, and I will always consult you and ask your advice on matters that affect our lives after we are married, but please— please, grant me this, however unnecessary you feel it to be. I will not sleep unless I know that you are safe."

She paused, feeling terrible for her comment now that she saw how important it was to Darcy, and she squeezed his hand.

"I am sorry," she said. "Of course."

Darcy kissed her hand and sat back on his chair.

"You should be made aware that we have decided to have your wedding on Monday." Mr. Bennet said.

"This Monday? December 9?" Elizabeth asked, looking between the men. "That's two days away!"

"Yes."

She should not have been surprised, and when she took a moment to think about it, she wasn't surprised.

"This is because of what happened yesterday."

Her father nodded. "Even knowing that Lady Catherine and her two accomplices were behind all this, we cannot take any chances. The sooner you are wed, the better."

"Does Mama know?"

"You are the first person we've told."

Elizabeth hesitated. She was glad that her courses had started early this month, for if they hadn't, they would have been due the beginning of the following week. However, they were now almost over, and she was lucky indeed for the change.

Another potential, although not crucial, issue was the fact that Georgiana was supposed to arrive on Monday with their mother's dress. Elizabeth could still use the dress they had originally intended for her wedding, but she couldn't deny she felt a little sad at the prospect.

"If it is too soon, we can still find another way," Darcy said, concerned by her silence.

"No! It makes no difference to me, truly," Elizabeth replied. "I would be delighted to get married on Monday. But what about your sister?"

"I have sent an express for her. With any luck, she will be here by Sunday noon or evening."

Elizabeth and Darcy both begun to eat.

"Mr. Collins woke up," Darcy said. "And I… might have said some things to him. I would be very surprised if he bothered you again, but he is a drunkard, and I do not trust his word."

Elizabeth had not realised how worried she had been that she had, indeed, killed Mr. Collins, until Darcy shared this news.

"What will happen to him?"

"We have not yet decided," Darcy said. "Taking him in front of Old Bailey would invite scandal, and since he did not actually manage to violate your virtue, I fear he would suffer no consequence to his person. To decide to do this would be more harmful to you than to him, especially because they will require proof of your virtue, and I do not trust that procedure, nor would I ever agree to put you through it. We cannot take that risk."

She wanted to ask if anything could be done about the entail, for it was a terrible fate indeed to have to leave the estate to such a man, but she did not wish to worry her father, and she hoped that Darcy, together with Bingley, would be able to help provide a reasonable solution if anything were to happen to her father.

"What about Lady Catherine?"

"I fear that her connections and rank would allow her to similarly walk away, unscathed, while spouting derogatory rumours of your person. Once again, it is not a risk worth taking."

"And his old steward?"

"Mr. Wynn, although valiant in his efforts, did not manage to catch the man. He is free." Mr. Darcy pointed toward the door with his head. "Which part of the reason for the officers who are to protect you until we are married and I can protect you myself."

Elizabeth did not like his news but was unsurprised by it. "If my estimation of Lady Catherine's estate is correct, and it sounded very much like it was, would it not be its own form of punishment to simply let her be?"

Darcy paused, putting down his food. "I had not considered that."

"I do not presume to have the kinds of means at my disposal as you—"

"Elizabeth." Darcy sat straighter, touching her elbow. "You are to be my wife. What is mine will be yours. Please, tell us, what would you do?"

Elizabeth observed her sleep-deprived husband-to-be. He had an earnest, curious expression with no hint of making light of her words. She was touched by his consideration of her opinion as she knew that it would be her duty to obey him as his wife, and she had met few men — in fact, only one, sitting across from her — who appreciated her opinions and did not hesitate to act upon them when her thoughts were mutually agreed to be more beneficial than her father's.

"I would leave Lady Catherine be," she replied. "With her pride, I doubt that she will ever admit that her decisions could be incorrect and a direct cause of the failure of her estate, and I predict that she will suffer the consequences of her own choices worse than anything we could conjure to punish her."

"And Mr. Collins?"

"If I had your means, sir, I would hire an investigator, to find out if I am the only woman he intended to harm, or, in fact, managed to harm. Once that is determined, I would decide on the next step."

Darcy and Mr. Bennet locked eyes, and Darcy paused as he sipped his coffee.

"So be it," he said. "We shall heed your advice."

"Sir! Please do not fear to challenge me if you see a flaw in my plan. I will not be offended."

Darcy smiled before he pressed the pads of his fingers against his eyes and blinked a few times.

"With a few sentences, you have come up with a better plan than any I have thought of since you left Netherfield. Thank you."

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. She had many questions left to ask, but every movement of her future husband revealed the extent of his tiredness, and she stood up.

"Papa, would it be okay if Will— Mr. Darcy shut his eyes here in the library for a bit? It is not nighttime, and you can be present, and I can go on a walk to ensure that nothing improper is implied."

Mr. Bennet gave her a nod, but Darcy stood up and took a breath.

"Thank you, but I'd much rather go on a walk with you, if you are willing."

"Are you quite sure, sir?" she asked, concerned. "You look dreadfully tired."

"I am determined," he answered with a small, exhausted smile.

Elizabeth was glad for the chance to get changed out of the old dress she was wearing, and met Darcy by the front door ten minutes later. Employing officers to protect Elizabeth had the added benefit of chaperones, and the brothers joined their walk, following the couple at a reasonable distance. Darcy tucked Elizabeth's arm in his, and she was, once again, struck by the dark circles under his eyes.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Not much."

"Can I help you with your troubles?"

He let out a long breath. "Walk with me... so that I can be sure that you are all right."

"I am sorry you found trouble sleeping," Elizabeth said.

"I love you," he replied simply. "It is not to be helped."

Her heart ached for him, and she glanced behind them to see if she could get away with kissing him, but seeing the officers quite close, Elizabeth rested her cheek on Darcy shoulder. She intended to reassure and move away, but Darcy pressed her close, surrounding her shoulder with his arm and not letting go.

"I have caused you nothing but trouble since that day in Netherfield," Elizabeth said. "I have caused scandal and I've separated you from your family. How can you not resent your engagement to me?"

Darcy stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. "But I'm the reason you were attacked in the first place! How could I resent you for the very thing I caused?"

"But that first kiss at Netherfield was all my—"

"Do not dare apologise for the best thing that ever happened to me."

Elizabeth hid her smile in his coat, and when he turned his head, his warm breath ghosted over her forehead. She felt precious and safe in his arms, and her stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement. When his eyes landed on her lips, they both looked away.

"My uncle Henry, the Earl, asked me how you came upon such intimate knowledge of Rosings."

"And?"

"I did not know what to tell him. I admit they suspected that you had an insider in the estate."

Elizabeth stifled her smile.

"I do not," she replied, observing the clouds rolling in the sky. It was windy. "I fear my answer will disappoint you a great deal if that is the kind of excitement you expect."

He kissed her gloved knuckles. "Tell me, for I am most eager to hear."

Elizabeth smiled. "It is very simple — I am an avid observer of people, I read the news, and I am interested in estate matters. In addition, I am a woman. You would be surprised by what men reveal around women they think would not understand their conversation.

"The steward situation was the easiest to determine — a job notice for a new one appeared in the newspaper more than once. Other notices for other servants started appearing, too. I could estimate the size of the estate and had heard snippets of conversations mentioning the number of tenants and size of the land and such. A few comments about outdated methods of farming and equipment made me curious — an estate such as Rosings should have the finances and knowledge to update such matters — and I started paying more attention. Then, I fear that a few of my acquaintances in Meryton revealed more about their trip to Kent than they themselves realised, and lastly, most boringly, my cousin had a significant role."

"Lady Catherine did not appear to think that he could even understand such matters."

"Whether or not he understood what he was revealing is irrelevant, for if anyone paid attention at all, he was confirming all my suspicions. A mention of a servant, in need of new clothes, mending old ones far beyond repair. A mention of Lady Catherine, giving her advice with such condescension, advice that sounded most enlightened to my cousin that I recognised as both outdated and dreadfully incorrect. She could not have been managing her estate well if her advice to her tenants was to be heard. It was a process, learning it all, and I did not expect to be as right as I appear to have been."

Darcy looked at his future wife with admiration, feeling all the affection and love a heart could possibly contain, and squeezed her closer.

"Had you been born a man with access to the talk that happens after dinners at the libraries among men, I fear you would have become the most fearsome master of your estate."

Elizabeth laughed, flattered and amused, but did not disagree.

"I am most curious, and please do not feel that this is a test of any kind — what would you estimate my annual income to be?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and hid her face in his coat as she smiled.

He found her reaction endearing. "What?"

"I can only either offend you or stroke your vanity, and I am not yet sure I want to do either."

"Please."

Elizabeth bit her lip. "By even asking, you confirm my suspicion that you allow people to believe an income different than what is correct. Is that right?" Darcy did not confirm or deny, and Elizabeth continued. "Judging by the size of your estate and the number of tenants, and, I have caught you and Bingley talking about new equipment, your concern that you may not find enough men for the cider presses and sawmills… And your investments, if I am correct, in Schroders, Sheffield Forgemasters, Fann Street Foundry, and East India, probably among others… I would estimate your annual income to come between £17,000 and £23,000."

Darcy stared at his future wife as if she had performed witchcraft.

He had always prided himself in his privacy, and nobody had thus far ever given him reason to doubt the impenetrability of his manners. He struggled to form words.

It was no wonder his aunt and uncle had presumed Elizabeth to have an insider — he himself could not believe the information she relayed him.

He cleared his throat. "How— how do you know this? And— where, where did you get this information?"

He, apparently, sounded upset, for Elizabeth drew a breath and looked at the ground before them. "I apologise."

"What? No! Please do not apologise," he replied in earnest. "Please, I did not mean to sound upset. I am simply surprised."

She locked her eyes with his. "I pay attention when you talk, or when someone you know talks about you or your estate. It may sound improper, but as a lady, that is the only way for me to hear about the matters that interest me — matters considered to be men's business. You have mentioned or someone else has mentioned these things in social situations, and after getting to know you, you need not have confirmed or denied some of your investments. Your interest in the subject matter spoke for itself and I drew my conclusions — or estimation — from there."

Darcy continued to stare at her twinkling eyes, passionate and endearing, and cursed to himself.

"Dear Lord, you are a deadly weapon beyond my comprehension."

"Sir!"

Darcy lowered his voice, leaning his head closer to hers. "It is a compliment of the highest order," he replied, still disbelieving of the fearsome intelligence of his future wife. "If you were let loose among the ton, you could do irreparable damage to any family in trouble or, if your morals were less than they are, blackmail just about anyone who cared enough about their reputation."

"Sir! I would never do such a thing."

"I know," he replied softly. "I am not accusing you, I am admiring you. I hope you never need such skills, but I admit, I am now most curious about your first season among the ton. You will be a fearsome lady to behold, and I am one lucky man to have caught your eye."

Elizabeth smiled, unsure of his reaction, but his eyes were so bright and passionate that she was assured of his affection. She had worried that he would think her methods indelicate — which they were, but as a woman, she had no choice but to apply the methods available to her.

"If you, if you ever feel uncertain about a business partner or an investment, I could help you gauge if what they claim about themselves is the truth. To the best of my ability, of course, for I am—"

Darcy lowered his head — damn the officers — gripped the back of her neck and pressed his lips against hers. He tasted her soft lips as they moved against his, and he swallowed a groan when her warm breath ghosted against his skin. He pulled back.

She emerged, dazed but happy, and Darcy smiled at her in disbelief.

"I did not settle enough on you," he said.

"Sir! I heard the sum. It is quite more than what I could ever need."

"For a woman like yourself, no amount is enough."

Elizabeth smiled shyly, feeling his appreciation. "I did not argue about the settlement sum for I know you now well enough that not all of your pride is bad. You also take pride in taking care of those you love, and I would never take that away from you. I am to be Mrs. Darcy, and with that, I will withstand the lot in life that falls on that woman. I may not always know what is correct or how best to support you, but I am determined to learn and to stand by you, no matter what."

Darcy wished that he had not just scandalised the officers — insofar as they could, knowing the engagement story, be scandalised — for he dearly wished to pull her into another kiss. He could never have imagined he would find or deserve a woman like her, and his heart could almost not contain his love. He could not wait for their marriage, for he had found a most equal wife. He could share his troubles and hear her advice, he could argue about the best solutions for their tenants and investments and farming methods, he could wake up, every day, to have Elizabeth in his life to love and be loved by — had any man been as lucky as he was?

He determined that, no, they had not, for they did not have Elizabeth.

"I love you," he replied, simply, putting all the emotion that he felt into it. "You're a fearsome creature to love, and I am consumed by it."

Elizabeth pulled his knuckles to her face to kiss them, and gave him a tender smile. She felt his love in every fiber of her being, and she could only hope to learn to show him hers in return.

"When did you first know you had come to love me?" she asked.

He blushed, stifling his smile. "You will not believe me when I tell you."

She shivered from the cold as she waited for him to continue, and Darcy, without a word, opened up the side of his coat and pulled her inside it. His movements were so confident and sudden that Elizabeth laughed in surprise.

"Sir, the officers!"

"And what will they do, make us get married?" he asked. "I'm sorry to tell you — although you probably know — I do not think we can scandalise any family in Hertfordshire more than we already have, and I intend to keep you warm without having to walk you back to Longbourne just yet. Are you warm?"

She squeezed his waist under his coat, feeling the warmth under his shirt, and felt entirely too precious for her own good.

"Thank you," she replied. "Yes. I am warm."

Darcy paused before he asked, "Do you remember how I told you that I would never have offered for you had you not compromised me?"

She was tempted to make light of his question, but his serious face gave her pause.

"Yes," she replied simply.

"I do not… I do not think that I was entirely correct."

"Sir! You need not take blame that I rightly deserve."

"If by blame you mean credit, I have no intention to take any," he replied, smiling. "It is not that. What I've come to realise is that I wanted my words to be true because I resented you for your family. When you kissed me in Netherfield, I had struggled to suppress my feeling for you for so long that I believed myself to be unaffected by you. But the more determined I was to do nothing about my feelings, the deeper they grew, until, when you kissed me, I was almost sure I had to have been dreaming."

"Is that why you kissed me back?"

Darcy, wanting to kiss her hair, untied her bonnet and removed it. Elizabeth smiled but shook her head.

"I will burn all your bonnets once we're married," he whispered.

Elizabeth laughed.

Darcy, now properly able to be close to her, held his nose against her hair before pressing a kiss on top of her head. "I would've had to have been dead not to kiss you back," he said against her ear.

"Is that when you knew you loved me?"

"It is when I first realised it, but not when I first felt it. I think I first began to love you when you had walked to Netherfield, with your muddy hem and sparkling eyes, to take care of your sister."

Elizabeth smiled into his shirt.

"I believe I would have offered for you even if you had not kissed me that night in Netherfield," Darcy said. "I believe I would've fought my feelings valiantly until, quite possibly, declaring them to you in the most offensive possible manner."

She laughed. "You do not have a very high opinion of yourself."

"I have, I hope, left that man behind, but there is no mistaking that I would have pridefully assumed that you would've accepted me without question because of my station and wealth, while blaming you for yours."

"I think I would have denied you," she said.

"I know," he replied with a soft smile. "When you ran off after kissing me and I proposed to you, I could not believe I had to convince you to marry me."

He held his head in such a way that she lifted hers and brushed her lips against his, just for a moment. He blinked in surprise, but took a deep breath, for it was too easy to press her flush against him and keep kissing her.

"I think I first came to love you when I first saw you in your black pantaloons," she said, eyes twinkling.

His eyebrows shot up.

"My… pantaloons?"

"Yes," she replied, breathless. "They are very…"

She did not wish to use the word indecent, but she was so taken with his pantaloons that no other word quite fit.

"You are referring to… my pantaloons?" he repeated in disbelief, and Elizabeth hid her embarrassed smile in his shirt. She nodded, but when she pressed her hand against his lower stomach, Darcy almost jumped out of his skin. Elizabeth covered her cheeks with her hands.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," she whispered, embarrassed by her boldness. Darcy took a breath, blushing to the roots of his hair, and held his coat open for her to step into again. She hesitated but did so, careful not to touch his stomach.

"Please forgive me," she said, almost too embarrassed to form words.

Darcy shut his eyes and grinned against the top of her head. He was not used to a woman's touch, and especially such a tender, innocent touch against his breeches.

"Elizabeth," he whispered. "You have no reason to apologise. You did nothing wrong."

She hid her face from him, but Darcy, taking a long, deep breath, took her hand and set it on his stomach. He was determined to get used to her touch for they would get nowhere on their wedding night if this was where they had to begin. He nearly burst into flames when Elizabeth squeezed his stomach, but thankfully, she did not travel lower or higher.

"So you were telling me how I should also add all my breeches to the fire I'm making for your bonnets?"

Elizabeth laughed.

"I am afraid not, sir, for I dearly love to dance, and pantaloons are certainly not appropriate for the activity."

"That is fair. Then, I shall have exactly two pairs of breeches and the rest will be burnt."

"Sir, are you teasing me? I fear I do not recognise this man I am to marry."

Darcy smiled.

"I love you whatever you are wearing, sir," Elizabeth continued. "I think what I was referring to is how differently I saw you at your townhouse. You were confident and self-assured but not at all too prideful, and your employees respect and admire you. I had never before seen you in your element, and it had a most endearing effect on me."

Darcy pressed a kiss against her hair.

"I cannot believe it was my pantaloons," he said. "I shall never forget that."

"There was also another thing."

"My bonfire is growing," he replied, motioning for her to continue. "Please."

"When I first made that dreadful cravat for you, I…"

She trailed off, unsure of how to speak of the cravat he had refused to wear without making him uncomfortable.

"I do not know of what you speak, I only received the most beautiful embroidered cravat to ever exist."

Elizabeth's smile showed her shame and embarrassment, and she averted her eyes. "You need not make me feel better," she replied. "It was my first attempt and I did not expect you to wear it, of course, but I wish I had honed my skill before giving one to you. It is not your fault that I could not make one you would be proud to wear."

Darcy stopped walking and put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away. Elizabeth blinked at him in surprise, and he took out the perfectly ironed, perfectly folded cravat from his pocket. Opening his coat, he pulled her in it as they continued walking, and he pressed a kiss against her temple, cherishing her warmth.

He could not believe she had thought he was ashamed to wear her handiwork.

"Elizabeth," he whispered. "I will continue to tell you — I do not care a whit about your embroidery skills. It's a cravat. Nobody notices how it is made. I do not wear it because—" He flushed. "—I am scared of ruining it. I have ruined some before. Eating, shooting, horses… I cannot take that risk. So, I carry it in my pocket close to my heart. It is always on my person."

Elizabeth observed his face, expecting to find humour in it, but found none. He squeezed her closer, and Elizabeth, wordlessly, took the cravat from him before unfolding it and folding it along the wrong sides.

"What are you—"

She stopped walking to get his attention and lifted her hand, sliding her thumb across the edge of the linen.

In shiny, white letters, barely sticking out from the white of the linen, he read,

'With Love, E.D.'

His eyes locked with hers, and he wished, more than anything, that they were unchaperoned and already married, that he could kiss her and not need to stop, and that he could express the depth of his feelings to the extent that he desired.

He had slid his fingers endlessly over her gift and yet never found this.

Patiently, she observed his reaction. She could not quite decipher the inscrutable intensity in his eyes, but it gave her goosebumps.

"You felt—" he cleared his throat, "—then?"

She nodded, unfolding and refolding the cravat before giving it back to him. Carefully, shifting her slightly to get access to his pocket, he returned it to its place next to his heart. He had never felt more inadequate, expressing his feelings, knowing that in just two days, he was free to love her and never stop.

Dear God, he did not wish to stop.

"I fear I may now sleep with your gift on top of my pillow."

"That is a shame, sir, for I had hoped you would sleep with me on top of your pillow."

Even for Elizabeth, it was an extraordinarily bold comment, and she immediately felt embarrassed and avoided his gaze. For a woman who had to prove that she was not wanton, the words were careless, but she could not regret the comment when his eyes darkened and he stopped walking. Caressing her back, pressing her against him, he towered over her, feeling her warmth under his fingertips and looking at her with such longing she felt reborn again in his eyes.

It was an improper comment and she should have apologised, but the intensity in his eyes made it impossible.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, resting his forehead against her temple, taking a breath. He opened his mouth to continue, but said nothing, and his breath warmed her cheek. He pulled back to see her eyes, and said, "I love you."

They walked for hours, excited and nervous for their future together, and occasionally took advantage of the fact that their chaperones appeared rather uncaring of their proximity. When they returned to Longbourn again, Elizabeth asked the maid to bring a luncheon for the officers while Darcy collapsed in the settee in the library. Mr. Bennet had informed his wife of the change in the wedding date, and even the prospect of having two officers stay at Longbourn did not distract her from having to do in two days what she had expected to do in a week. Officers James and Martin Birks were introduced to the rest of the family, servants, and Mr. Bingley, who had appeared shortly after Elizabeth and Darcy had left for their walk. Lydia's usual giddiness was muted by Kitty's maturity, and Mr. Bennet stared at his second youngest daughter from the library doorway.

"What on Earth has gotten into Kitty? Today, I found her reading in the library without Lydia, and… we had a sensible conversation."

Elizabeth squeezed her father's arm, smiling. "She is growing up."

Elizabeth asked her mother to take on a part of the burden of planning the wedding breakfast in such short notice, but Mrs. Bennet shooed her daughter away, and so, Elizabeth returned to the library. Her father sat behind his table while Darcy half-sat, half-lay on the settee, sleeping. His chin rested on his shoulder and his arm dangled at an awkward angle.

Elizabeth hesitated before walking over to to him and laying a woollen blanket on top of Darcy. She carefully lifted his arm to a more comfortable position. His lips were parted and the fire cast shadows on his face. She wished to brush his hair away from his eyebrows, but kept herself in check. Elizabeth had never seen him so vulnerable, and she felt as if she was privy to something infinitely precious before she realised that she was to be privy to his sleeping all her life.

Something wild and sweet tugged at her heart before she closed the door to the library and took a seat across from her father.

Together, they observed one another in the knowledge that this was, perhaps, to be the last time they could spend their time in such a way in Longbourn. Even their schedule of attending to the tenants and estate matters had been spoiled by all the wedding plans and the attacks on her person, and they had not spent as much time together as they usually did.

"I fear I may have worn him out," Elizabeth said.

Mr. Bennet's smile was bittersweet. "He is, truly, a man beyond my comprehension. He must be in love with you indeed to have not even considered breaking off your engagement after what happened yesterday."

"I gave him the option."

Mr. Bennet paused. "And what did he say?"

"He…" Elizabeth paused, looking in her lap in embarrassment. "He assured me of his love and affection."

Her father rested his back on the back of the chair, assessing Elizabeth. "Is it true that, on that night at Netherfield, you had already been seeing him on walks? It has become such a universal opinion that I no longer know the truth."

She shifted. "It is not true, but we would never contradict such an opinion."

"And does he treat you well even when none of us are there?"

"He does," she assured him. "He has never done anything I did not agree with, and does not push if I deny him."

Mr. Bennet breathed a sigh of relief. He knew many a man admired in the social circles who did not treat their wives well, and he did not think Darcy was one of them, but he needed to be sure.

"I told him that he would do well to ask for your opinion and advice on managing his estate. I had always hoped that you would find a husband who could merely tolerate such an interest — for, unfortunately, that is the best most good gentlemen could do — but Darcy expresses such an eagerness for your help and advice that I fear you shall become a Mistress of Pemberley of your own right, with responsibilities and discussions that few women are interested in having."

Elizabeth smiled. "Nothing would make me happier."

"You may not have known his true character in Netherfield, when your life was decided, but you could not have made a better choice. Darcy is fiercely loyal, and disowning his aunt for your protection might have been a bigger wedding vow than any he could agree upon on Monday. I have no doubt that he will always protect you."

They spoke for another hour until it was time for dinner, and Elizabeth walked over to her future husband. He had moved, slightly, to be lying on his side, and she crouched beside him and boldly wiped the hair off his forehead. He stirred and sat upright when he realised where he was.

"Elizabeth!" he said, voice rough from sleep. "I did not mean to— please forgive me for falling asleep."

"I am pleased you did," she replied softly. "Do you feel better?"

He did, and he nearly reached out to pull her beside him before Mr. Bennet cleared his throat. Darcy stood up, feeling embarrassed but content, and squeezed Elizabeth's hand.

The rest of the night and Sunday passed in a flurry of movement and chaos. The church was attended almost as a side-thought, an extra servant was hired, shipments arrived for extra food and wine, Jane helped Elizabeth pack her humble trousseau and the rest of her belongings, and two large parcels arrived for Elizabeth a few hours before dinner. She opened them in her room, and her mother almost fainted at the sight of her expensive dress.

The silk had been covered with a pastel green layer of the sheerest muslin. The muslin had silver embroidery in such a pattern that it felt like gatherings of stars blowing in the wind. The neckline had been lowered to follow the current fashion, and the matching gloves completed the ensemble.

Its origins were not hidden but emphasised, and the current fashions were followed to such rigour that Elizabeth, had she not seen the dress before, could never have guessed that this dress was almost thirty years old. She felt nervous and hopeful about Darcy's reaction.

The second parcel contained a rich green woollen coat, and Elizabeth felt its warmth so acutely after trying it on that she had to take it off in less than a half a minute. It was beautiful and practical, and she hoped to wear it for many years to come.

At night, prior to Elizabeth's wedding, the two sisters lay, side-by-side, on the bed they shared, and both felt Elizabeth's departure most acutely. The previous weeks had been eventful, full of adventure and fear and hope and scandal, and the two sisters turned to lie on their sides as the candles flickered on the side tables. The past felt like a whisper in the wind, lost before you could comprehend its meaning, and they both had a lot to look forward to.

"It is unimaginable that we are to never fall asleep like this," Jane said, smiling but feeling the bittersweetness of their last time falling asleep like this. "Kitty already asked me if she could have the room after I am married as well. I fear she is growing apart from Lydia."

"Not all change is bad," Elizabeth replied. "Did you notice how well she behaved around Officer James Birks? She had a lovely time, and she later said she felt guided by our behaviour. I admit that I hope Lydia's jealousy will lead to her own character growth, but it may take time or it may never happen. We shall see."

Jane smiled, in that serene and hopeful way that showed how much she thought good of everyone.

"We must be patient with her," Jane answered. She started rubbing the lace on her nightgown as she paused. "Are you nervous about tomorrow night?"

Elizabeth stifled her smile. Both her mother and her aunt had, separately, given her conflicting advice about her wedding night. Elizabeth, being a well-read woman, had read a scandalous pocketbook Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies from 1793. It was expected of a maid to be scared and nervous, and yet, she had learned enough about Darcy's character that she trusted him, fully, and anticipated the events more than she feared them. It was unbecoming to admit it, but she dearly wished to be close to her husband without the hovering (although well-meaning) presence of everyone.

Additionally, she could not wait for everyone she met to stop being focused on her virtue, and she was eager to earn the respect of friends and acquaintances of her own right, as her own person with valuable insight and advice rather than a maid whose core character trait must be focused on her virtuousness.

"A little," Elizabeth answered as honestly as she could. "Are you worried about your first night with Mr. Bingley?"

Jane blushed, hiding her face in her hands, letting out a laugh. "Yes!"

Elizabeth smiled, for her sister probably had read less about the act and, perhaps, took their mother much too seriously, and for the next hour before they slept, she reassured her sister of the needlessness of her fear and the care of Mr. Bingley. It was past midnight before Elizabeth blew off the candles and they both fell asleep.

: :

The faintest layer of snow had covered the frozen fields in Hertfordshire in the early morning, but fortunately, no ice covered the roads. Elizabeth's appreciation for the beauty was mixed with her nervousness. Their maid and her sisters helped her into her dress and put flowers in her hair, and Elizabeth felt like she was walking on air as she approached the carriage.

Before she knew it, everyone rushed to the church ahead of her, and she gave her coat to Jane at the doorstep. Darcy turned, and when their eyes locked, he looked at her with such intensity and reverence she dared herself not to look away. Music started, and Elizabeth's father took her arm.

Darcy's eyes widened when she approached, and Elizabeth noticed that he was wearing the cravat she had made.

But when his eyes shimmered with tears, she begun to regret wearing his mother's dress. For a proud, severe-looking man such as Mr. Darcy, throwing him into a situation in which he had to be reminded of the death of his mother could not have been easy. She swallowed.

Her father squeezed her hand, smiling at the couple, and gave her hand to Darcy, who was still drinking her in.

Darcy reached over to peck her on the cheek.

"It is— You look—" his voice was low but rough, "—beautiful."

His eyes still glistened when they both turned, and she noticed him tightly press his lips together, but he did not look upset.

He squeezed her hand, and she barely registered the words that bound her to her future husband before it was all over and they stepped into the carriage in the snowy morning. Other carriages followed theirs, but Elizabeth, now alone with her husband, did not notice. She was worried and relieved and yet blissfully happy, a strange combination of emotions, and she squeezed her husband's hand for they had not stopped holding them since her arrival at the altar.

"Mrs. Darcy," he whispered, voice rough, as he lowered his forehead to touch hers. He reached out to fiddle with the muslin peeking out from her coat, and shut his eyes. Slowly, he pressed his lips against hers, and she ran her fingers through his hair. He pulled back from the kiss but not from her.

"How did you— when did you— you're beautiful," he finished his stutter, voice still rough.

"I was worried that it was too much. Are you quite all right?"

He cleared his throat, and Elizabeth saw him attempt to blink away the shimmer in his eyes. "I—" he begun, but took a deep, shaky breath instead. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "If a man cannot cry at the sight of his bride on his wedding day, when can he?"

Elizabeth smiled.

"It is so— I cannot explain it," he continued. "It is like she's here, giving her approval, and yet, at the same time, it is just you, being you, joining me in our future together… and I do not think I wish to be apart from you ever again."

He tenderly caressed the side of her face with his rough fingers.

"William," she whispered, thrilled to finally be alone with him without counting seconds until they had to have company. Without saying anything further, she squeezed his neck and kissed him, and no further words were said before they arrived at Longbourn.

The wedding breakfast was an elaborate affair, and Mrs. Bennet beamed with pride when Darcy remembered to show a particular interest in raspberry macaroons with ratafia. Elizabeth tried to spend a little bit of time with every person who attended — especially Georgiana, who was to set out to London with Mrs. Annesley a few hours after them — but it all became too much to keep track of and Elizabeth was relieved when it was finally over. With many promises of letters and visits, their carriage left for London.

Darcy pulled Elizabeth as close to him as he could, pressing his lips against her temple, and rubbed the side of her arm as they admired the slowly falling snow. Their words were interrupted by warm, slow kisses, or perhaps their kisses were interrupted by teasing words, but as it was, neither had ever spent so much time smiling and laughing, or held so much hope for the future.

: :

A/N: Hi, guys. There are a few chapters left, but I'm going to mark the story as complete given that it's giving us all kinds of diabetes now. Stay tuned for the last chapters and thanks a lot for reading!

Your thoughts, as always, make my day.