Darcy slammed the glass down onto the table. Its contents sloshed out onto the wooden tabletop and he glared furiously at Newbury.

"No ale, I told you. Would you have me go to my own wedding drunk as well as hung over?"

"Of course not, Darcy," the captain explained. "Just a small glass, to put you right again. You look unwell. A little ale will get you through the next hour perfectly well. You know Mrs. Romney will be there, of course."

Darcy grimaced and picked up the glass. The man Newbury had brought to dress him was tying his cravat and ale dripped onto the pristine white cloth. The man whipped the cloth off of him, sighing elaborately.

"If monsieur will finish his drink?" he said, rummaging through Darcy's clothes for a fresh cloth. Darcy again grimaced but drank half the ale.

"That will do the trick, Darcy. Now let Gustave finish his work before you drive him to distraction."

Newbury was already dressed, but Darcy's evening clothes had taken a good deal of pressing before Gustave declared them fit for a bridegroom.

It was another half-hour before they were ready to go to the church, and Darcy was anxiously dwelling on the outcome of his previous trip to be wed. Newbury tried to soothe his nerves, but Darcy was having none of it.

"This will probably all be for naught," he said as Gustave finished his apparel. "She will not appear. Or if she does, it will be but to mock me and disappear again."

"Damnation, Darcy. Do you really think she's that cruel?"

"I don't know anymore. It seems an age since I saw her. Do you think she'll really be there?"

"I believe so."

Many candles lit the Town Church splendidly as Elizabeth and Eleanor descended from their carriage. Mrs. Romney surveyed it with satisfaction.

"It looks like your Mr. Darcy went to no small trouble. I think the vicar is quite adequately soothed."

This reflection did nothing to soothe Elizabeth's nerves as Eleanor handed her a small bouquet of white flowers and preceded her into the church.

Darcy felt like a statue, a most uncomfortable statue, as the moments dragged on. Captain Newbury stood at his side, the vicar behind them as he watched the entrance anxiously for some sign of his bride.

Darcy was about to tell Newbury that, having been proved right, he was ready to head back to the tavern, when Mrs. Romney came through the doors. Though not quite old enough to be Miss Bennet's mother, no mother could look so proud as she did sweeping down the aisle to stand across from Captain Newbury. She gave Darcy a pleased look before settling down into her place and turning her attention to the door. Discomfited, Darcy nearly missed his bride's entrance.

Serene and composed, Miss Elizabeth Bennet walked down the aisle toward him. Darcy's heart began hammering in his chest as her eyes passed over him to meet the vicar's. Was she planning some humiliation for him? Would this marriage take place?

Elizabeth stopped next to him, and he turned around at her side to face the vicar. That holy man's harsh words at hearing the tale behind the aborted ceremony haunted him as Darcy looked into his peaked face.

As the vicar began the ceremony, Darcy forced himself to look at him, at the adornments on the railings, anything but what he desperately wanted to do, which was to study his bride for any hint of her feelings.

Elizabeth did not see any hint of discomposure on her bridegroom's face as she approached him. Perhaps a hint in his eyes? She could not tell. As the familiar words of the marriage service washed over her, doubts plagued her heart as to the rightness of her acquiescing to this union.

As the vicar asked if there was any impediment to their union, Elizabeth could scarcely quiet a desperate fit of laughter. He hastened over the silence that followed his words, beginning the vows.

As Darcy said, "I will," Elizabeth began to feel a trembling deep in her chest. Could she make her vow?

"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Darcy thought her silence would last forever, until she spoke a quiet, "I will." He thought he had never been more relieved in his life, and it was with real warmth that he took her hand.

"I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, take thee, Elizabeth Bennet, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

They loosed hands and she forced herself to look into his eyes as she echoed the words. There was a desperate hope dawning there that she could scare look at. With relief she looked away as Darcy turned to Newbury for the ring. But his eyes caught hers again as he put the ring on her finger.

"With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Darcy was sure he would burst with joy and terror as the knelt for the prayer. She was his wife. But any triumph he may have felt was allayed with guilt and fear of what this would mean for the rest of his life. How would they live together? Would she resent him forever?

Elizabeth's mind was blank as they stood though the blessings. She wanted to crawl behind a pew as the vicar beseeched the Lord for fruitful procreation. How was she to submit to the nuptial bed? Her mind went black again: She could not think of such a thing before the altar.

They received communion and the rest of the ceremonial instructions for marriage. Elizabeth could not help thinking that St. Paul would have written differently if he had been a woman.

Then they were recessing back into the nave, husband and wife.