Page 75 of Attempted Compromises
Jane stood beside her, a vision in soft peach, her serene smile steadying Elizabeth’s fluttering nerves. “You look lovely, Lizzy,” Jane said gently. “Aunt Gardiner chose perfectly.”
Elizabeth forced a smile, willing herself to believe it. “If Aunt Gardiner hadn’t sent these, I shudder to think what we might have worn.”
“It was kind of Mr. Darcy to bring them back from London,” Jane replied. “I do hope our aunt isn’t disappointed about not gifting them to us herself at Christmas.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Mrs. Bennet burst in, beaming with excitement. “Oh, my dears, how radiant you both look! And to think—two daughters married in one day! Mr. Bennet, we are so blessed!” Her chatter was incessant, oblivious to the tension in Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Now, Lizzy, do try to look cheerful. We don’t want Mr. Darcy to see you frowning on your wedding day.”
Elizabeth nodded, letting her mother fuss with her hair before she finally swept from the room again, leaving the sisters in relative peace before they all bundled into the carriage and made the short journey to the church.
The chapel was modestly adorned with evergreen garlands and white ribbons, a reflection of the hurried nature of the event. The attendees were few: Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, Mr. and Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and Georgiana Darcy, whose youthful excitement was a sharp contrast to the somber atmosphere of Bingley’s mourning.
Darcy stood at the front of the church, his tall frame rigid, his face impassive but his eyes betraying his tension. He was dressed sharply in a dark coat, his cravat tied to perfection, and his expression unreadable as he looked straight ahead. As Elizabeth approached, she felt his gaze shift to her, and the weight of it settled heavily on her shoulders.
For the briefest of moments, she thought she caught a flicker of something in his eyes—admiration? Tenderness? But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual stoicism. Her heart sank.
The ceremony began, its solemnity underscored by the rector’s low, measured tones. She glanced sideways at Jane, who radiated quiet serenity, her hand brushing against Mr. Bingley’s as they waited for the rector to begin. Elizabeth envied her sister’s peace of mind. For Jane, this was a love match—Bingley’s open adoration left no room for doubt. For Elizabeth… her thoughts stalled as her gaze flickered toward Darcy on her left.
The words of the ceremony washed over her in a haze. She tried to focus on them, but her mind whirled with uncertainty and doubt. Darcy’s presence beside her was overpowering, a tangible force that filled the entire church like a storm cloud, ready to unleash; formidable, but somehow life-giving, too. She was keenly aware of every movement he made—the faint twitch of his hand, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the occasional glance he cast in her direction.
When the moment came for her to speak, her throat felt dry, and her pulse hammered in her ears. She hesitated, just for a breath, before forcing herself to say the words. “I do.”
The pause was so slight she doubted anyone else noticed it, but Darcy’s head turned fractionally toward her, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. Elizabeth’s chest tightened. Did he think her unwilling? Did he know how torn she felt, how desperate she was to reconcile the conflicting emotions that had plagued her since he proposed?
And then it was his turn. His response came swiftly, firmly: “I do.” There was no hesitation, no doubt. His tone carried a weight of conviction that surprised her, and she found herself glancingat him in surprise. He met her gaze briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the rector.
The ceremony concluded, and the finality of the moment settled heavily over her. They were married. No longer Elizabeth Bennet, but Mrs. Darcy. The thought sent a shiver through her, equal parts exhilaration and dread.
As they exited the church, Georgiana hurried to her brother’s side, her delight barely contained. “Oh, William, it was beautiful!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. “Elizabeth… I mean, Mrs. Darcy,” she corrected herself shyly, “you looked so lovely.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Thank you, Georgiana. You are too kind.”
She received other similar congratulations as if in a dream.But I am wide awake, and a dream would mean this were a love match.
∞∞∞
The small party returned to Longbourn for a wedding breakfast. The event was kept modest, out of respect for Mr. Hurst’s recent passing, but Mrs. Bennet’s joy made it anything but subdued. “A wedding, and to such fine gentlemen! Oh, Mr. Bennet, how proud we must be!” she exclaimed, ignoring the mortification in Elizabeth’s expression.
Elizabeth could barely suppress her irritation. “Mama,” she said through gritted teeth, “this is not the time—”
“Oh, hush, Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet snapped, her voice shrill. “Would you ruin the happiest day of my life with your nonsense?”
Realizing that anything she said further would only escalate the situation, Elizabeth turned her attention to the food before her. The breakfast table was laden with a variety of delectable dishes, but the even that consolation was marred by Lydia’s petulance.
“I cannot believe Wickham ran off with that awful Caroline Bingley,” she huffed. “I thought he preferred me!”
“Lydia,” Elizabeth snapped, her voice sharper than intended. “Do you realize the danger he posed to us all? I was nearly—” She stopped short and looked to her mother and father. “Papa, please.”
“Lizzy is right, Lydia,” Mr. Bennet interjected, his tone stern. “You will not speak of that man again, and you will learn to curb your foolish tongue.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Lydia wailed, stamping her foot.
“And you will continue to do nothing in your room,” Mr. Bennet said firmly. “Go.”
Lydia stormed out, her skirts swishing dramatically as she went. Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “That girl will be the death of me.”
“Perhaps if you corrected her more often, she might have learned some sense,” Mr. Bennet muttered.
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy from the corner of her eye, feeling all the embarrassment of such a scene. The tension only increased when Mrs. Bennet loudly attempted to coax Georgiana to the pianoforte. Mary, who had been playing awkward scales, scowled as Mrs. Bennet bustled her off the bench.
