The day of the wedding dawned as fair and beautiful as the bride herself was widely renowned to be. Elizabeth found that she was not easily able to take any pleasure in either the fine weather or the idea that her beloved elder sister was about to take a new name and begin a new life. They had never shared a last name, but somehow the fact that Jane would now be Jane Bingley was more bitter than sweet.
It was possible that the restless and emotional night before was casting a shadow over Elizabeth's mood, but if she was gloomy, she was also resolved. The thought that this might be her last chance to make any kind of amends with Darcy had at last pushed her into making a decision that she would speak to him today, no matter how he might feel about it. She owed both of them that much.
With a tremendous effort of will, Elizabeth at last forced herself out of bed and began her preparations for the day. She would take an hour or so to focus on her own needs this morning and would then dedicate the rest of the day to Jane. The wedding wasn't scheduled to begin until the evening hours, but there was much to be done beforehand.
Somehow, the whole day contrived to both race past at breakneck speed and to drag on interminably. It all depended on Elizabeth's perspective, she realized. If she were fully engaged in preparations for the wedding, there were not enough hours to complete every task that needed her attention. But if she thought of Darcy and what she planned on saying to him, or if she imagined how their conversation might go, then the day was endlessly unbearable and every minute chafed.
As much as possible, for her own sanity no less than out of love for her sister, Elizabeth did her best to focus on Jane's needs and to keep her calm as both excitement and nervous anticipation mounted. A large part of that chore involved keeping Mrs. Bennet occupied with anything that might reasonably keep her out of the way but was still important enough that even their mother would see the need for it to be done.
And so, in fits and starts and with many raw nerves needing to be soothed along the way, they at last got to the final moments before Jane was to walk down the aisle and pledge her life and love to Charles Bingley.
"Are you ready?" Elizabeth asked, holding both of Jane's cold hands in her own.
Jane's answering smile was dazzling, betraying not the slightest hint of nerves or uncertainty. "Yes. Oh, Lizzie! Thank you for everything you've done today. You're truly the best sister."
Elizabeth laughed off the words. "You must know that everything I did was because I'm your maid of honor! Being your sister has nothing whatsoever to do with it."
Jane was still laughing softly when the door opened a moment later and Mrs. Bennet fluttered back in.
"Oh," she cried in excitement, waving her arms in tiny circles just below her chin. "How well you look, Jane! Are you ready? It is nearly time to start and your father is on his way to come and escort you down the aisle now! Lizzie! What is going on with your face? Didn't you think that you should wear a better lipstick for something as important as your sister's wedding? Nevermind; it is too late! And just as well. No one should make an attempt to outshine the bride on her wedding day."
The whole speech was spoken almost without pause for breath and might have continued had not Mr. Bennet arrived on the scene and touched his wife gently on the arm to get her attention.
"There is a young man waiting to escort you down to your seat," he informed her. "Then we will be ready to start the processional."
Mrs. Bennet exclaimed a bit more, began to leave, screeched again, returned to drop exaggerated kisses on the air several inches from Jane's cheeks so as to not smudge anything and then at last went on her way, her eyes already suspiciously moist.
"Well, my dear," Mr. Bennet said once Mrs. Bennet was finally out of their hearing, "I must say that you do look lovely. And although you have been out of the house for some time, it feels almost as though I am somehow losing you today." He stepped forward and rested his hands gently on Jane's bare upper arms. "Promise me that you'll visit often."
Jane's smile had gone a bit wobbly in the face of what was, for Mr. Bennet, an emotional display but she nodded at once. "Of course. Charles and I both will."
Mr. Bennet nodded sharply in acknowledgement and then crooked his elbow towards his stepdaughter. "Shall we?"
Then there was a last minute scramble to retrieve the bouquets of pale pink and white calla lilies before they all at last left the small room where Jane and Elizabeth had been confined for the past hour or more.
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth waited for the music to begin and then preceeded Jane and their father down the aisle, her eyes hopelessly locked not on the groom waiting by the altar, but on the best man. Darcy was more striking than she had ever seen him, his tuxedo immaculately fitted to his tall, broad-shouldered frame. With his dark hair and eyes, the only relief of color amid the severity of all the black and white was the royal blue bowtie and matching cummerbund he wore.
Elizabeth was at the end of the aisle almost before she knew it and she took her place somewhat shakily, thinking that she hadn't remembered to either blink or breathe in the time it had taken to reach her station opposite Mr. Darcy.
In the next moment, the music changed and the rustle of clothing sounded as everyone stood at once to honor Jane as she came through the door on Mr. Bennet's arm to begin her own walk down the aisle. There was an appreciative murmur from the gathered guests at the sight of her, radiant in her gown and smiling with such joy that it almost hurt Elizabeth's heart to see it.
As the ceremony began, Elizabeth tried to pay attention to the bridal couple and the sacred words of the marriage covenant that were being spoken. But time and again, she found her eyes straying to the tall figure of Darcy and she could not help but wonder whether, if she had believed him, whether this occasion might have only been a prelude to what she could have shared with him.
It had not been without its difficulties, but Darcy had made it through the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner and all the aimless milling about in between without making a fool of himself in front of Elizabeth Bennet.
All the months spent apart had not eased his heartache much, and it was self-preservation as much as anything else that had led him to avoid her bewitching presence whenever possible. He did not think he could speak to her without throwing himself at her feet in supplication once again.
If time had done anything for Darcy, it had erased his anger, dulling it into a sort of tired resignation. How could he possibly be angry with her for thinking him a liar when he had only just begun to make a good impression on her and she did not really have any idea of who he was? She had no way of knowing something as basic about him as the fact that deceit of every sort was his abhorrence.
In anticipation of being in Elizabeth's presence once again, Darcy had resolved that he would not speak unless she should first engage him in conversation. But she must still be wary and distrustful of him, for she said no more than what was strictly necessary and made no attempt to begin any sort of real conversation with him.
It had been an exquisite sort of torture to have her standing so near, her scent filling the air around him with its heady and compelling bouquet. It was agony to touch her and to remain outwardly impassive, as though he were escorting a stranger.
But he had gotten through it and must now only get through the wedding ceremony and reception. Those hours of being near Elizabeth and held in check by his self-imposed rule of silence were a thing he dreaded.
Yet, it was still something of a shock at just how difficult they proved to be.
He saw no sign of her in the minutes leading up to the ceremony, of course. She would be sequestered with her sister, the bride, and no one would lay eyes on them until things should at last get underway. For that, he was most advantageously placed, standing at the head of the aisle and facing the door in what he hoped looked like respectful anticipation of Miss Marchrend's appearance.
But of course it was the first woman to come through the door and make her graceful way up the aisle that captivated his every thought. She was beyond stunning in a pale pink dress with her lovely mahogany hair caught up in some style that seemed elegantly complicated. Small pink flowers were threaded in with her tresses here and there, making Darcy wonder only whether or they were real and how they might smell if so.
He tried not to show any reaction, but was being buffeted by two disparate emotions. The first was something like admiration, though Darcy would be a liar if he were to deny that there wasn't some sense of desire mixed in. The second emotion was a cold sort of dismay.
His vision of Elizabeth had included something very like this moment, after all. Was it possible that he had Seen Elizabeth walking towards him not as a bride but rather as a bridesmaid and himself not the groom but serving in the capacity of groomsman? He could not remember that vision clearly enough to be certain either way, and all the evidence seemed to point to them never establishing a real relationship, let alone one that would end in marriage.
Clenching his jaw and mastering himself while all eyes were on Jane Marchrend as she came down the aisle a few moments later, Darcy found himself fixing his gaze on Charles Bingley's left shoulder while the short ceremony was performed and though he was tempted, he did not allow himself to waver.
Then came the trial of following sedately in the newly married couple's wake. Keeping his expression grave, Darcy stepped towards Elizabeth Bennet as he had practiced the evening before, offering his arm. She accepted with a warm smile, her brown eyes catching his for a painfully brief moment.
Few people were actually paying any attention to their progress, focused as everyone was on the bride and groom. Unable to contain himself, Darcy found himself leaning close to Elizabeth's delicate ear. The flowers were fake, but she still smelled divine.
"You are looking very well," he said, the compliment polite but infused with more warmth than he had really intended.
She flushed slightly and darted a glance up at him, eyes shining with some emotion he could not readily identify. But all she did was murmur a quick word of thanks and then they were past the point where it would have been appropriate for him to stop escorting her. Unwillingly, Darcy stepped slightly away and Elizabeth took the movement as her cue to remove her arm from where it had rested on his.
The next trial was the receiving line, where Darcy had to stand next to Elizabeth and greet all the guests who came through. If anything, this was worse than actually escorting Elizabeth had been, but only because he was forced to interact with so many people. The fact that the mother of the bride, Mrs. Bennet, was also included in the line only made everything that much more unbearable.
Even knowing that Mrs. Bennet was not Elizabeth's biological mother, Darcy couldn't help but marvel that somehow both she and Jane - who was the natural product of Mrs. Bennet - had turned out as well as they had. Perhaps she had been a steadier influence during the sisters' formative years, but today she was everything improper, wearing a gown that verged rather too far on the side of appearing to be bridal and which suited her figure not at all. Her hair and makeup were both overdone, the former of which was piled in a ridiculous, precarious-seeming heap on the top of her head.
As if her manner of dress were not flamboyant enough, Mrs. Bennet was much the same in public as she was in her own home, which was to say that she spoke loudly, incessantly and seemed wholly unaware of what was tactful and what was not. Her most oft-repeated phrases rotated among, "Oh, how beautiful my Jane is!" "How well my Jane has done for herself, marrying such a wealthy and important man!" and " My Lydia recently had a man show some interest in her, but it all came to nothing, poor dear!"
In order to keep from strangling the woman, Darcy soon found that if he observed nearly any other person closely enough, he could almost manage to tune out Mrs. Bennet's effusions. Almost.
With the youngest Miss Bennet having been mentioned, Darcy took a moment to pinpoint her location, finding her wandering away from the receiving line, clearly in pursuit of an oblivious young man. It seemed her recent entanglement with Wickham had done nothing to curb her eager interest in the opposite gender, but if Mrs. Bennet's inane prattling was any indication, neither had Lydia been made to see the error of her ways.
Lydia Bennet was clearly the wrong person to focus on, casting the Bennet family in a poor light as she did. Hastily transferring his attention to the next person coming down the receiving line, Darcy greeted them as warmly as he could and exchanged a few banal pleasantries about how lovely the ceremony had been, and yes, the new Mrs. Bingley was as radiant as the sun. It was the dozenth such conversation he'd been forced to have and the tediousness of the exercise was beginning to grate on him.
In the next moment, he gained a temporary respite from having to make polite conversation when the line halted, delayed by Mrs. Bennet who had latched onto someone who must be a friend of the Bennet side.
Alas, the relief came only for a moment before a new irritant introduced herself to Darcy's consciousness. A pair of hands came to rest on his shoulder just a moment before Caroline Bingley's voice breathed unpleasantly close to his ear.
"I know what you are thinking," she remarked, pressing her shrunken bosom against Darcy's upper arm. "You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed!"
For once, Caroline Bingley was not very off the mark, but Darcy was conscious of Elizabeth's presence nearby and of the pained looks she kept darting at her stepmother, so he shook his head and replied, "Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."
Caroline pressed herself still closer, making Darcy frown with discomfort. "And may one ask whose the eyes?"
"One may," Darcy allowed, but spoke no further, hoping that Miss Bingley would take the hint.
Whether or not she would have was never to be discovered, for the line at last broke free again and Darcy was able to step firmly away from Caroline to resume his duties.
When, at last, the line had all dried up and the guests had moved on to the outdoor reception area to continue mingling, Darcy found himself hanging back along with the rest of the wedding party as they all collected themselves for a moment.
Elizabeth drew Jane aside and the two women bent their heads close, speaking in tones too quiet for Darcy to make out any words. Seeing them thus engaged, Darcy drew Bingley aside a little ways.
"I have developed something of a headache over the past hour, I'm afraid," he told his friend with perfect honesty. "I believe my toast will be the last official duty for the evening? Would you be terribly put out if I left following that? I will understand if you wish me to stay."
Bingley grinned back at him, "I am honestly amazed at how well you have endured up to this point, having to meet so many strangers and pretend to care about what they think! Of course you should leave if you feel you must. I only regret that the toasts will not come for quite some time."
Darcy felt an answering smile turn his lips upward. "You are too good a friend. Perhaps I will feel recovered by that point in any case. I believe some water may very well be refreshing."
After expressing a wish that some water would indeed restore Darcy's health to him, Bingley waved him off in the direction of the white tents that covered a portion of the lawn, providing shade to the people who stood or sat at tables beneath them.
Resigning himself to another few hours of making small talk over dinner and drinks, Darcy headed off without a backward glance.
The water didn't help, not that Darcy had really expected that it would. The headache was not from too much heat or sun, but rather from the tension of the day.
Unfortunately, it was some time before the toast was to take place. There was first some time for the guests to mingle with each other and to begin to drink if they were of the mind to do so. When everyone was called to order, it was to sit down to a catered meal. As one of the bridal party, Darcy was seated at the main table, a distinction he might have done without.
Though Elizabeth sat only a few feet away from him, there was no chance of true conversation - not that she had tried to initiate any - what with all the other Bennets and Caroline Bingley also being present.
Watching Caroline Bingley attempt to deal with her brother's in-laws might have been amusing, but she seemed to think that Darcy would lend some sort of support to any disparaging comment she might think to make, and was thus always saying something breathtakingly rude before turning to him to ask, "Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"
After the third or fourth time, Darcy had given up any pretense of polite forbearance with the infernal woman and had instead adopted his most severe look and flatly disagreed with whatever nonsense she had just spouted. It did nothing to deter her.
If Miss Bingley was bad, both Lydia Bennet and her mother were in close competition with her. The youngest Miss Bennet alternated whining about how bored she was and how much she wanted to get on with things so that she might dance. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, seemed to say whatever popped into her head.
Darcy's headache, already bad, only grew steadily worse during the course of the meal.
At length, the dinner was coming to an end and the time for toasting came. Champagne was handed out among the crowd and Darcy, who had been notified to get in place just a few moments before, waited until everyone was served and all had turned expectantly to where he stood.
Opening his mouth to speak, he saw Elizabeth headed in his direction and so paused a moment longer to give her a chance to join him. She would be speaking directly following his toast and then there would be dancing until the newly wedded couple made their own exit.
Having prepared and memorized a short speech, Darcy stepped forward and spoke in a carrying voice, addressing the attentive crowd but pretending to himself that this was only another business presentation. It made the task easier, although his words about love and caring would have been perfectly incongruous in the setting he imagined.
In only a few minutes, his part was over and the guests all sipped at their champagne at Darcy's own signal of doing the same. Then he faded gratefully into the background as everyone turned their attention from him to the bride and groom and then onto Elizabeth who had stepped into Darcy's spot.
"Jane is my sister and my best friend," Elizabeth began, smiling dazzlingly at the woman in question. The bride's answering smile was no less brilliant and tears already seemed to shine in her eyes. "So I have been in an excellent position to witness the relationship between Jane and Charles as it has evolved, and let me tell you, it has been an inspiration to me."
There were some appreciative sounds from the audience as Elizabeth paused, and even Darcy found himself smiling despite the bittersweet tenor of his thoughts.
"One thing that I observed that has really stood out to me was how the biggest turning points in their relationship came out of moments of honesty."
Recalling how Bingley had gone to Jane and laid his heart out on the line and had apologized unreservedly for his poor treatment of her, Darcy felt a momentary stab of envy. His own moment of absolute honesty had been rather less successful in both execution and outcome. Wondering if he could slip away with all eyes on Elizabeth, he shifted slightly, taking a half step to the side.
Elizabeth was still talking, still looking fixedly at her sister and new brother-in-law.
"I believe a good marriage is based on a trust where each party can be totally honest with each other. I also believe that honesty comes with a price."
Having been about to take another half step away, Darcy froze suddenly, his attention fixed back on Elizabeth's words.
"In order to have a good marriage you also have to accept what the other person is honestly telling you. You can't be judgmental. You can't disbelieve.
"That's the foundation of a good marriage. To be able to be totally open with the other person and have that person accept whatever it is that you have to say. Your spouse is the one to whom you tell your dreams and desires, no matter how improbable they are. To whom you tell your darkest fears without having to also fear that they will reject you or what you are saying."
She paused again and this time there was utter stillness from the listening crowd. Elizabeth was the only one who moved, shifting to look out over the wedding guests, turning until she at last locked her eyes with Darcy's own.
"Being honest is humbling but you must not be too proud to do it and must be willing to apologize when you are wrong."
She held Darcy's gaze for a beat longer, the message in her words unmistakable. Suddenly, her smile was back in full force and she broke their exchanged looks with a blink of her eyes and a swift turn to face the Bingleys once again.
"Jane and Charles already have these qualities and this level of trust and faith in each other, so I cannot help but believe that their lives together will be full of exceeding joy. I wish them both all the best. To Charles and Jane."
Raising her glass in a salute on the last, Elizabeth sipped at her champagne again. Darcy only barely remembered to follow suit, watching in a sort of stunned disbelief as Jane and Elizabeth hugged and the silent crowd broke into a low murmur of dozens of conversations amongst themselves.
Someone else might have said or done something to signal that this portion of the evening was formally over, for everyone seemed to move away at once, but Darcy could not move or look away from where Elizabeth's dark head still leaned in close to Jane's fair coloring.
Then Bingley was there, buffeting him casually in greeting. "Are you off now? I hope the rest of this evening wasn't too tedious for you."
Darcy barely glanced at the other man. "No," he said. "I am much recovered. I will stay on a while longer."
Bingley looked from Darcy to where Elizabeth stood and smiled knowingly. "Excellent! Well, I must go claim my bride as we are to begin the first dance. Please tell me you and Miss Bennet will join in for the second. Jane has informed me it's something of a tradition."
"Of course," Darcy replied, voice even but heart beginning to race. Not intending to waste even a moment, he followed on Bingley's heels as his friend went to collect Jane.
The couple was off in a moment, the first strains of music already starting up from a few yards away. Just that quickly, he and Elizabeth were practically alone.
"Miss Bennet," he addressed her formally. "May I request the honor of your hand for the second dance?"
Elizabeth accepted Darcy's request for the second dance without really knowing what she said. The past few hours had been spent in unrelieved tension as she had been caught between wondering whether or not she were brave enough to dare to approach him.
It was overhearing Charles Bingley tell her sister that Darcy intended to leave following the toasts that had decided her. As she had thought the night before, this might very well be her last chance to say anything to him and apologizing was something she must do for her own sake, even if he rejected both her contrition and her own self.
A wedding where one is a bridesmaid who must do something to try to contain the mother of the bride is not a good place to try to have a personal conversation. Elizabeth had reached that conclusion early on and found her frustration with events growing by leaps and bounds. She could not seem to break away from the demands of her family or the guests and, on the one occasion she found herself free, she could not immediately find Darcy and was soon waylaid by another person claiming her attention.
She laughed and smiled and made lively conversation but in her heart she felt only desperation.
At length, it was time to toast the bridal couple and Elizabeth knew that the only way to say anything to Darcy must likely be encoded in her speech. She could only pray that he would stay and that he would truly hear beyond the surface meaning of her words.
Affecting a confidence she did not feel, she spoke from her heart, for her speech bore no resemblance to the one she had prepared in advance. And though she feared it would be too obvious a move, she could not help meeting Darcy's grave gaze as she made as private an apology as she could in so profoundly public a manner.
Elation surged through her when she realized he had not immediately gone and she all but held her breath when she saw Bingley approach the taller man and exchange a few words. In a moment, Darcy was headed her way and seemed to waste no time in applying for a dance.
Now they stood side by side, not speaking, watching as Jane and Bingley twirled gracefully through their first dance as a married couple. A string quartet provided the music and the mood of the evening was everything romantic with warm breezes and a sky shading ever darker, the very heavens gradually revealing more and more of their shining splendor.
When the first dance had ended, the guests who were gathered to watch all applauded before the music swelled again and more couples dipped onto the dance floor.
Ensconced in Darcy's arms, Elizabeth looked up at him as they moved through the patterns of the dance. She was desperate to know what he was thinking but could not decide where to begin. Confused, she fell back into her usual refuge of teasing commentary, saying lightly, "I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy. A very little will suffice. You should say something about the dance, perhaps. I might remark on the number of couples."
He looked down at her, still seeming very grave. "Do you talk by rule, then, when you are dancing?"
"Oh," she exclaimed, "I so rarely have the pleasure of dancing. I have no rules for it."
"I am not certain you have many rules for anything," he responded. "Or that you follow them very strictly should it not suit you."
Startled at the observation, Elizabeth peered up at him, only just seeing the twitching corners of his mouth. He was teasing her.
All at once, he became serious. "That was a very nice toast you gave," he observed.
"Was it?" she asked. "I confess, it was inspired in the moment."
"I think that you have made some excellent points regarding honesty in a relationship."
Elizabeth waited, but he said no more. "I believe I also made an apology, though perhaps not an excellent one. Please allow me to speak on the matter again, Mr. Darcy. I am very sorry for how I treated you that night. My disbelief was no reason to be cruel, and I cannot help but feel now how unjust I was to you then."
She forced herself to meet his eyes the whole time she gave her apology. His expression did not change and Elizabeth felt her heart sink, thinking that she was seeing the polite mask of indifference that Mr. Darcy usually seemed to wear with strangers and people for whom he did not care.
"I must also thank you," she added.
"Thank me?" Darcy seemed surprised.
"Yes. I understand that you saved my sister, Lydia, from George Wickham's depredations and that you did so under rather impossible circumstances. Please accept both my apology and my gratitude."
"I will accept one of them," Darcy replied, ceasing to dance. "But not the other."
So he would not forgive her. Elizabeth stepped away, looking down in surprise when Darcy did not immediately release her hand. To the contrary, he tightened his hold and led her off the dance floor in silence. She followed in bewilderment, but did not ask what he meant to do. They were soon far away from the crowd that was making merry, standing next to a stone wall with only the moon and starlight to see each other by.
"I do not wish for or require your gratitude," Darcy said once they had paused. He now gathered up both her hands in his own and faced her squarely. "But for the sake of honesty between us, I shall not attempt to deny that the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on."
"I do not understand you," Elizabeth burst out. "You had a most perfect opportunity to prove to me the truth of your words and you did not take it. That, I could understand. Who would not have grown indifferent or even spiteful to someone who had treated them as I have treated you? Do you mean you have accepted my apology?"
"I had forgiven you long since," Darcy told her. "Elizabeth - Miss Bennet - may we now have further honesty between us? There is more I have wanted to tell you, almost from the moment that I met you."
"I - yes, of course," Elizabeth stammered in some confusion.
"I fear you will not like what I am about to tell you," Darcy warned. "But I have wished a thousand times to explain to you the circumstances of our first meeting. You see, I had a vision as soon as I laid eyes on you."
Curiosity, already budding in Elizabeth's mind, bloomed into fullness. "Yes," she acknowledged. "I recall you told me that much some months ago."
"That vision-" Darcy cut himself off, seeming agitated. He dropped one of her hands to run his own backwards through his hair. "I have never been able to think of a good way to tell you-"
"Just tell me," Elizabeth urged softly. "Please. I promise to keep an open mind. To listen without judgment." She smiled, though it felt crooked on her lips.
Sighing heavily, Darcy seemed to calm himself with a great effort, bringing even his tone back into moderation. "I - I saw us," he said hesitantly, the words and the almost shy way in which they were uttered making Elizabeth's heart beat still faster in anticipation.
"I saw us marrying." He swallowed thickly. "Building a life together. Having children. Everything."
She could not immediately reply.
"I am aware of how that sounds." The words were spoken almost savagely. "I have no wish to have you believe that I think this vision of mine should, in any way, have the ability to force you to any such understanding. Nor would I have you think that I am merely blindly following what could be rationally seen as a delusion. My heart is engaged, Elizabeth! Whether or not you ever return the feeling, I do love you!"
Something warm and wet streaked suddenly down Elizabeth's cheek and she realized all at once that she was crying.
"I hardly know what to say," she admitted, her voice thick. "There are so many things going through my head right now and I hardly know which is most important."
"I know the feeling," Darcy acknowledged. "And I know what is most important to me, but I will not press you for any reply now. If you need some time to think about what I have said, you have it. As much as you require."
She sobbed, overcome, and pulled her hands free from his to bury her face in them.
But she still felt him move and so was not surprised or displeased when he gently gathered her into an embrace, holding her head against his chest. "Please don't cry, Elizabeth. I had no wish to hurt you," he murmured.
He had not hurt her, of course. She cried harder, clutching at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.
It took some time for her to master herself again, but other than the embarrassment of having broken down in the first place, Elizabeth could not find cause to repine. Darcy held her the entire time, whispering soothing words that went almost unheard as she focused on the steady beating of his heart. The sound was oddly comforting in that moment, seeming a strong and steady pulse for Elizabeth to match her breathing to.
Finally pulling away, Elizabeth swiped carelessly at her face, giving a wobbly smile in thanks when Darcy immediately proffered a handkerchief for her to use to clean up.
He is always seeing to the little things, she thought. He is always taking care of everything.
"I do not need any time to be able to tell you the most important thing to me, Mr. Darcy," she began, once she had ordered herself a bit.
"William," he corrected softly. "If you like."
She smiled up at him. "Is that what your friends call you?"
"Some of them."
"And what does the woman who loves you call you?"
He paused, searching her eyes.
"Whatever she wishes to call me."
"I suppose I shall have to think on that, then. But for now, I believe I will follow societal norms and call you William." She sobered, losing all trace of teasing from her tone for he was still looking at her as though he did not dare to believe that any of this was real.
"I love you, William," she said simply.
"Elizabeth," he uttered her name in a hoarse voice, but said no more. He did not need to. The look of transcendent joy on his face was clear enough, despite the lack of any true light. And then his lips spoke to her in a different way, as they gently captured hers in a tender kiss that did nothing to conceal the eager passions that he held just in check.
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth gave herself over to that kiss and to every one that followed shortly after, memorizing the scent and feel of him. And somewhere deep inside her, she could feel her own heart speed and then falter and then burst in a surge of emotions that she could never have anticipated. Knowing she could not adequately describe the feeling, she smiled against William Darcy's lips, knowing as surely as he did that they would have the rest of their lives to attempt to put words or other expressions to the feelings of their hearts.
A/N: I can't believe it's over. Excuse me for a moment while I sniffle quietly.
I won't be long-winded here (maybe). Just wanted to take a moment to again thank everyone who has read this and who has stuck with me for the nearly three years it took me to actually finish. And, as always, I'd like to heap extra thanks and warm fuzzy feelings on everyone who took the trouble to review. I'd love it if the silent majority of my readers would take a moment to say hey or something now that we've come to the end, but I understand if you don't want to.
There will be a short epilogue coming soon. Look for it under your virtual tree on Christmas Day!
It's been one hell of a ride. Thanks so much for sharing it with me!
xoxo
-Imp