Epilogue
Lavender and cabbage roses rested sweetly in the grip of the four giggling girls in pale green dresses lined up just inside the French doors leading out into the glorious gardens of Pemberley in Derbyshire- William Darcy's ancestral home. On the other side of those doors, rows of chairs were filled with loved ones and beyond them, one dapper gentleman and another man of the cloth stood, all waiting patiently for the emergence of a beautiful woman in white. Elizabeth stepped into the parlor where her three younger sisters and Charlotte nervously waited for their cue to begin. Beaming, she nodded to them. "Its go time."
One by one the girls stepped through the double doors, each taking the arm of a young man smartly decked out in a dress kilt and short jacket and proceeded in stately fashion down the aisle. Elizabeth turned at a sound behind her and sighed. On her father's arm, Jane stood before her, radiant in white. A moment passed in a shared look, the last one before everything would change. Then Elizabeth turned and stepped from the room and into the glorious sunshine, a vision herself in pale green silk. The beauty and elegance of the tableau brought tears to her eyes as she felt a strong arm take hers.
"Hello, gorgeous," Darcy's deep chocolate voice whispered in her ear.
Elizabeth couldn't keep the smile from her lips, but she made damn sure to keep her eyes straight ahead. "I'm not looking at you," she whispered.
"And why is that?"
"Because you are wearing that kilt, and I'm sure that in some etiquette book somewhere it is highly improper for the maid of honor to jump the best man in the middle of the aisle," she teased quietly, smiling at the guests as she and Darcy proceeded down the petal strewn path.
"Are you wearing the stockings?" he inquired lowly, nodding politely to her mother as they passed the last row.
"That's for me to know and you to find out… later," she whispered back before pulling away from him to take her position at the altar.
The small ensemble of strings and winds made a smooth transition from their opening strains into the decided pronouncement of the Wedding March. All eyes turned, and each breath held as Mr. Thomas Bennet proudly guided his beautiful daughter Jane down the aisle to her waiting groom. Elizabeth ventured a peek at Charles and found him completely overcome with love for the woman walking toward him. A small spark of jealousy skipped in her heart, and for a moment she wished that she could inspire that kind of look in a man until her eyes involuntarily shifted right and her breath caught. For a brief shining moment, while everyone else was captivated by Jane, William and Elizabeth were alone in the world and she felt in that one look more loved and desired than she could have ever imagined.
The service was lovely, and there was not a dry eye in the house as the bride and groom exchanged their vows. And though Elizabeth and William took their duties very seriously, there was much appraising of the other's person going on behind the backs of the main event. As Elizabeth moved forward to take Jane's bouquet for the exchanging of rings, William caught a glimpse of lace at Elizabeth's thigh when her skirt shifted and as William presented Charles with the rings, Elizabeth finally gave him a good once over, admiring the gorgeous cut of his legs beneath the hem of plaid. Silently and separately, both calculated how soon they could leave the reception without seeming rude.
Too soon it was all over, and Charles and Jane were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. All were whisked back down the aisle and through one garden to another where the reception had been set. The guests marveled at the elaborate beauty of the decorations as they sampled the champagne and hors d'oeuvres while they mingled and congratulated the happy couple. William and Elizabeth were swept apart in the rush and bustle, and it wasn't until after the service of the main course, toasts, and obligatory dance with the bride and groom that the two had a moment alone.
"The boys are quite good tonight. I would have never guessed it was them," William remarked as he swept Elizabeth up in his arms for their first dance of the evening.
"Yes, I'm as astonished as anyone," she laughed as she looked to the stage where a very preppy Matt, Mark, Luke and John stood stiffly behind mics and instruments doing their most solemn early Beatles impression.
"You know," she began, running a finger lazily through the curls at the nape of his neck, "its seems you are not a jinx after all."
"Oh, and how is that exactly?" he smiled as he pulled her nearer.
"Well, the Apostles got signed to a label that night at the club, but I didn't know it until last week," she began.
"Is that right? Congratulations!"
"Oh, no. Congrats to them, not me. They signed on with a big time manager as well, but were too scared to tell me," she laughed.
"And you are okay with this?" he asked, bristling at the thought of Elizabeth being treated shabbily.
"Perfectly. It was a post-college fun thing. I never wanted to go mainstream, and to be truthful I never thought I'd last this long. But then again, I never thought they would last this long. Funny thing, fame."
"True enough," he said, giving her a light squeeze. "And is there any more redemptive proof for me?"
"Well, though the whole landing in Corfu thing was unexpected, I can't really blame you for the way things turned out, can I?" she laughed sheepishly cutting a sidelong glance at Caroline who sulked at a table full of aged relatives.
"We will just let that one slide, I think," William smiled, twirling her around in time to the music. "But there is the matter of the shoes."
"Yes, well, that," Elizabeth colored at the thought of the words she was about to say.
"Go on," William prodded, enjoying the sight of her discomfort.
"Jane said something interesting the day that happened, and I… well, I refused to believe it until recently."
"Oh? And what was that?" he asked. He already knew the answer, as Jane and Charles had told him all about it some months ago when he had sought their advice about his own feelings regarding Elizabeth.
"She said that maybe my lucky shoes had broken because I didn't need them any more… because maybe you were…" she stammered to an embarrassed stop.
"Maybe I was what?"
"Maybe you are the one," she finished softly.
William froze on the floor and held her firmly before him. "Am I, Elizabeth?"
She took a deep steadying breath. Serious emotional discussions had never been her strong suit, but for once she felt it was worth it to not make a joke of things.
"Yes," she said simply.
"That's good," he breathed out as he spun her back into action amongst the other dancers. "Because I have something for you."
Jane nudged her new husband softly as they swayed upon the dance floor. "Look, Charles," she said quietly, drawing his attention to their maid of honor and best man in serious discussion not ten feet away.
Charles smiled with his new bride as they saw William hold a small golden circle in the palm of his hand. Jane held her breath, because one never really knew what Elizabeth would do in any given situation. The newly married couple held very still as they watched, both rooting silently for their dear friend to get his way.
"That looks suspiciously like a ring, William," Elizabeth tensed.
"It does go by that name in most English speaking countries," he confirmed, suddenly very nervous.
"I don't want to read too much into this, but most girls would assume that the presence of a ring implies an offer," Elizabeth continued, her heart practically beating its way past her ribcage.
"Well then, for clarification's sake, an offer is definitely implied."
"And by offer you would not actually be meaning a ride in your Bentley where we would be going to say… Brighton and end up in Rome would you?" she teased, trying to stop her hands from shaking.
"You are killing me, woman," he growled.
"Then if that means you want to marry me, my answer is yes," she answered quietly, once again very serious.
"It means I love you more than life, and I want to marry you," he smiled, slipping the band on her finger.
Jane and Charles breathed out a twin sigh of relief as the distant couple sealed the deal with a kiss. Turning her head to the band, Jane caught Luke's eye and gave him a decided nod.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this next song is in honor of a dear friend whom we all love and adore… some more than others," he said with a wink at William. "For Lizzy."
Turning to his band mates, he counted out the downbeat and a riot of sound erupted from the stage like the Manhattan Project.
"This is a little ditty we borrowed from a guy named Joey," Luke snarled in his gloriously bad accent before he began jumping up and down with the rhythm.
Elizabeth threw her hands up in the international symbol for "Rock On" as "Beat on the Brat" pounded over the gathering like hail on a summer's day. It was not long before Jane and Charlotte where jumping at her side, propriety and frilly dresses be damned.
"What have we gotten ourselves into," Charles yelled in William's ear as he came to stand next to his old friend.
"Not sure really, but it promises to be one hell of a ride," he replied as they watched the women fully immerse themselves in the joy of really bad rock.
A beautiful wedding, a happy sister, one hot guy asking her to be his forever, and a tribute to the Ramones- for Elizabeth the day was almost perfection.
As the party wound down, and the newlyweds became anxious to do what all newlyweds pretend they haven't already done, the men and women separated and the traditional tossing of the bouquet took place. Elizabeth came just short of giving some biddy named Anne a black eye in her quest for the coveted prize, but she was hell-bent on winning. She needed all the good luck she could get, after all.
The gentlemen were not to be outdone, as Charles stood before them in the garden twirling a lacy garter around his finger. Eyeing up the competition, jackets were removed and sleeves rolled up in anticipation. William, not one for improper and embarrassing displays, put himself at the back of the group, sure that the dainty bit would never reach him.
But Charles had other plans. Pulling the garter's elastic like a slingshot, he aimed right at William who saw not only the puff of lace but several large men headed his way just seconds too late. Reaching up, he caught the garter but was not quick enough to dodge the oncoming horde. Stumbling backward uncontrollably, William soon found himself submerged in the Koi pond. He rose, dripping, his white shirt clinging in a sheer sheet upon his chest, he raised his hand and showed the evidence that his dunking wasn't in vain, at least. He chuckled to himself and smiled as a cheer went up amongst the assembly.
Jane and Charles waved and hugged and kissed their way through the crowd, were pelted with birdseed and sent lovingly on their way. Slowly the guests began to leave and the caterers and attendants cleared away the remnants of the day. As the last car pulled away, Elizabeth turned to William who stood uncomfortably damp in his shirt and kilt.
"That's coming off, William," she whispered in his ear, running a hand over his chest.
"The kilt?" he asked with a saucy raise of the brow.
She shook her head and smiled wickedly.
"I hope the Master of the house has a desk in his bedroom," she purred, grabbing his hand and leading him inside.
"I have a perfectly good bed, woman," he responded.
"Okay, that can be second."
Slipping off her shoes, and lifting her skirt she bolted up the wide staircase of his ancient stone home, and plummeted down the hall to his room right under the oil-painted noses of his many ancestors. Without a thought, he came chasing after.
And with that, she found perfection.
The End
