Chapter 8
The morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright. A pagan might have sent up a prayer to the gods of sunshine, but the rest of the wedding party paid little attention to the world outside the windows
Mr. Darcy was the first to awaken at Netherfield. He was tempted to scale Oakham Mount, but he knew full well that his betrothed would never manage to escape Longbourn this morning to travel to their favorite hilltop. He was satisfied to remember that soon she would be his wife and he need never mount an offensive on Oakham Mount again. His valet had him dressed in his fine wedding clothes and ready to depart in no time.
Mr. Bingley's sisters and brother-in-law had arrived yesterday for the double wedding. Mr. Darcy had so far successfully avoided Miss Bingley except during dinner the previous night. Despite her snide remarks about country bumpkins and ladies with no breeding, he had been able to avoid her machinations thus far. Just a few more hours stood between him and spending the rest of his life with his love. The last thing that he was going to let annoy him was Miss Bingley.
Time seemed to be crawling slowly towards the appointed time. By ten in the morning all were gathered at the chapel at Longbourn for the ceremony and thereafter retired to Longbourn for the small wedding breakfast. Fitzwilliam felt like he was finally retiring from a long campaign but as he had finally won the battle he had begun on Oakham Mount, he was well satisfied.
There was no moment in his life as satisfying as when he helped his new wife into his large traveling coach and headed for Brighton for their honeymoon. He now had a small understanding of what his aunt felt when her son returned unscathed from the campaign against Napoleon. He had fought a good war and won his prize. He would be happy to never have to be parted from her again. It is a truth universally acknowledged that the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.
The End - of the war. Let the peace commence.