Perhaps she might even rival Jane.
A knock sounded, and Lady Anne reentered. “The carriage is ready,” she said gently. “The gentlemen have already gone on ahead.”
Elizabeth nodded.
She turned back to the mirror once more.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked back at her.
For the last time.
She drew in a steadying breath.
The next time she stood before her reflection—
She would be Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.
∞∞∞
Darcy stood at the front of the small chapel, his hands clasped behind his back with a steadiness he did not entirely feel.
Richard stood beside him, uncharacteristically quiet for once, though there was a certain satisfaction in his expression that suggested he found the moment more amusing than solemn.
Darcy scarcely noticed.
Every sound seemed sharpened—the faint rustle of movement, the creak of the pews, the distant murmur of voices settling.
And then—
The door opened.
Darcy turned.
For a moment, everything else ceased to exist.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway.
The gown—which he realized he had no idea where she had procured it—suited her far beyond anything Darcy could have imagined. The deep rose of the fabric brought warmth to her complexion, and the arrangement of her hair lent her a quiet elegance that stole his breath entirely.
But it was not the gown.
Not truly.
It washer.
The way she held herself—composed, though he could see the faint tremor of nerves beneath it. The light in her eyes when she found him. The unmistakable certainty that, despite everything that had happened, she had chosen this.
Chosen him.
Darcy felt something in his chest tighten.
Elizabeth came forward. The ceremony, once begun, seemed to pass in a blur. Darcy heard the words. Spoke them. Felt the weight of them settle into something real and irrevocable.
At one point, for one wild, fleeting moment, a thought struck him: that the door might burst open. That Mr. Bennet would appear, furious and immovable, to drag her away and put an end to it all.
But there were no objections. No interruptions.
Only the quiet certainty of vows spoken and received. When the moment came—
