Page 23 of Courting Elizabeth

Lady Catherine had not come.

Anne had sent a discreet and kind note. Fitzwilliam, standing behind Georgiana, murmured that our aunt’s absence greatly improved the atmosphere of the church.

I did not respond.

The door opened.

Elizabeth entered on her father’s arm.

I stopped breathing.

She wore a pale silk gown adorned with small embroidered flowers, elegant and refined. A matching lace bonnet, trimmed with white flowers, framed her hair. Georgiana had given her the pearls that gleamed at her ears.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She raised her eyes to mine.

I searched for her smile.

It did not come.

Her face was calm, too pale. She walked with a steady step, but her hand seemed to grip Mr Bennet’s arm tightly. I thought she was moved. A young woman was leaving her family, her home, and her name. She was also promising, before God and all present, an intimacy that propriety had forbidden her to know almost anything about until now.

This last thought stirred an immediate desire in me, instantly followed by shame. I had not yet spoken my vows, and already I was imagining unfastening the ties of her gown.

When the minister asked who gave this woman to this man, Mr Bennet placed her hand in mine.

It was ice-cold.

“Take care of her,” he murmured. “She always believes she can bear more than she can.”

I closed my fingers around Elizabeth’s.

“I will protect her with my life.”

Her father looked at me for a long moment, then withdrew.

The minister continued.

I heard the sacred words through the beating of my heart. To love, comfort, honor, and keep. To forsake all others. Each promise seemed too weak to express what I was prepared to give her.

When my turn came, my voice did not tremble.

I took her as my wife with absolute certainty.

Elizabeth spoke her vows more softly. She did not falter. She did not draw back. Yet when she promised to love, cherish, and obey me, her fingers quivered in mine.

A flicker of worry passed through me.

I reminded myself she had always dreaded being governed. That word alone explained her unease, I decided. It said nothing of her affection.

I dismissed the doubt.

The ring slipped onto her finger.

She became Mrs Darcy.

My wife.