"Are you sure you are ready to get back in the carriage, are you quite well enough? You cannot be," Elizabeth scolded as they finished their breakfast and Darcy headed firmly toward the door.

"And keep Bingley from the alter for another day? What sort of best man would I be then?" he asked, holding the door for her. She smiled as she moved past him, turning her head to keep his shape in her view. It was such a relief to see him standing, whole and seemingly well — though she knew the cut on his side was by no means healed by one night's rest.

"As it is I half expect they will have been married without us by the time we arrive," he said as they settled themselves, once more, into the carriage.

"I suppose we should expect no better, as we were married without them," she said lightly, settling herself against his right side. She caught him looking at her guiltily, and she reached up to soothe him.

"I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I should not have teased you so. Our wedding was what it was. Our marriage is something else altogether."

"Oh Mrs. Darcy," he breathed, stroking the side of her neck softly.

"Do you think, when we arrive at Netherfield, that Mr. Bingley will have room for one more? I admit that I cannot think of letting you away from me, even for the few days we are in Hertfordshire for the wedding."

"As he has been holding the room next to mine empty since I arrived, I should think so," he said.

"Has he?" Lizzie asked, surprised.

"I had not noticed until I heard two maids gossiping about it a fortnight ago," he said. "Though he said naught of it to me."

"Jane will be a happy wife with such a husband," she mused happily, her hands playing in her husband's hair.

"Bingley has a good heart, one of the best," Darcy affirmed, melting under her ministrations. "They are well suited. Your sister is a good, kind woman. Georgiana thinks well of her, I assure you."

"And Jane loves Georgiana," Lizzie reported fondly. "What a happy family we shall all be when they come to visit us at Pemberly."

Darcy's heart swelled with the thought of his dear ones under his roof. "A very happy family, my love," he agreed.

The crowd that awaited them as they drew up to Longbourn seemed enormous. Bingley was at the center of it, and as they drew to a stop, he opened the door and peered in.

"You have an hour to refresh yourself, then we go to church," he announced. "I've been more patient than you and quite patient enough."

Elizabeth nodded and launched herself through the door and into her sister's arms.

"Dear Jane," she cried, hugging her sister with all her might.

"Oh Lizzie, we haven't time for this, didn't you hear Mr. Bingley? You must get dressed." Her mother's shrill voice summoned her to the moment.

"Of course, Mama," she said, a smile wreathing her face as she and Jane dashed indoors and upstairs.

Bingley's man guided Darcy into a commandeered room where his clothing awaited. The groom had left nothing to chance, Darcy saw, with every detail arranged by a careful eye. He gladly abandoned himself to the man's attention, equally glad to be no longer in the carriage and that he would be by his friend's side for his marriage.

Jane had never looked so beautiful, Lizzie decided as she watched her sister float down the aisle toward her betrothed. Bingley stood frozen with anticipation as the vision in white approached. Darcy and Elizabeth's eyes met shyly, then warmly held each other's gaze, awkwardness forgotten.

Mrs. Bennet's sniffling cries of rapture crescendoed with the vows, then held steady through the liturgy, immune to Kitty's attempts to soothe her, particularly as Kitty's eye was stuck on Col. Fitzwilliam where he stood by Miss Darcy. Lydia sat at the end of the family aisle, seeming lost in thought. Only Mary sat attentive to the rector's words, while her father was thoroughly distracted by enjoyment of watching Miss Bingley studiously ignore the Darcys' blissful looks while trying to look even half-pleased at the blessed event. She failed at both.

Elizabeth looked longingly across the parlor at Netherfield at her husband. The wedding tea was delightful, but she longed to be with Mr. Darcy once again. The need to be with him had grown by leaps and bounds during their journey home. Every moment spent apart now seemed an endless torment, the dear ones standing between them appearing as fiends from the pit. She shifted uncomfortably and sipped her tea.

Suddenly she was swept upon in a torrent of embraces and French.

"Ma cherie, do you have a moment?"

"My dear Mrs. Romney, of course."

The Frenchwoman drew her aside. "I have been speaking with your youngest soeur, and I think it would be best if she returned to St. Peter's Port avec moi."

Elizabeth frowned. "If my parents agree, she may. But I could not ask such a Herculean task of you."

Eleanor pursed her lips and stared at the young lady for a moment, weighing her words. "From what Lydia has told me, it may be that a stay away from home for a few months may be beneficial for her."

Lizzie looked at her wonderingly for a few moments before understanding dawned on her face.

"Oh God," she prayed urgently. "Are you saying that — that she and Wickham—"

"So it seems, Mrs. Darcy," Mrs. Romney said calmly. "Do you agree that it is best that she come for this little visit?"

"Yes, yes, she shall. Oh Mrs. Romney, how can I thank you?"

"Your husband has put me in his debt," she explained, smiling. "I had not thought to see my English sailor for many months. This has been a gift of the heavens," she said, smiling toward her husband.

"Mr. Darcy's influence upon our navy continues to surprise me," Elizabeth said, grinning.

"He is a man of great influence," Mrs. Romney proclaimed with mock solemnity.

Elizabeth was still shaking with relief mixed with laughter when suddenly she felt her husband's touch on her arm.

"Mrs. Darcy," he said, offering his arm. "May I have the next?"

"Mr. Darcy," she replied. "You may."