Page 27 of The Earl’s Second Chance

The Double Wedding

Lydia returned from Miss Templeton’s academy two weeks before the wedding.

She was still Lydia: tall, bright, impatient, and capable of filling a hallway with her entrance. Yet she waited to be greeted before speaking. Her gown was neat. When a handsome footman carried her trunk upstairs, she noticed him and did not follow.

Fanny embraced her for a long time.

“Am I forgiven?” Lydia asked into her shoulder.

“There is nothing to forgive in being young. There is much to repair in being reckless.”

Lydia looked at her father. “Do I still have to wait until nineteen?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I thought so.”

At dinner, Kitty showed her the painting selected for exhibition. Lydia’s first impulse appeared in her face—the urge to joke, to diminish what she did not share. She stopped herself.

“It is beautiful,” she said. “I did not know you could do that.”

Kitty’s smile was cautious and radiant.

Mary played after dinner. Lydia listened through an entire sonata and whispered to Elizabeth, “I still do not like it, but she is much better.”

“Tell her.”

Lydia did.

The family did not pretend she was transformed. Trust returned by teaspoons, not floods. But the direction had changed.

The double wedding took place in the chapel at Herfershire Hall beneath white roses and late-summer greenery. Tenants lined the drive. London society filled the pews. Mr. Collins performed no part in the ceremony, though he explained to three bishops how he might have done so.

Jane wore ivory silk with seed pearls and carried myrtle. Elizabeth’s gown was cream satin embroidered with tiny gold leaves. Fanny fastened the late countess’s diamond stars in their hair and wept before damaging either complexion.

Lord Herfershire came to the bridal room.

He looked at his two eldest daughters and seemed unable to speak.

Elizabeth took his arm. “No clever remark?”

“I have used wit all my life to avoid saying what matters.”

He kissed Jane’s forehead, then Elizabeth’s.

“You deserved a better father sooner. I am grateful you allowed me to become one before today.”

Jane embraced him.

Elizabeth whispered, “We always loved you. We are glad we can admire you too.”

At the altar, Hartley’s composure broke when he saw Jane. Richard’s did not break; it burned. His gaze held Elizabeth’s as she walked toward him, and everything beyond that gaze receded.

The vows were spoken. Rings were placed. Two couples emerged into bells and sunlight.

At the wedding breakfast, Lady Herfershire conversed with a duchess, a countess, Mrs. Gardiner, and the wife of a tenant farmer with equal warmth. Kitty’s painted place cards were admired. Mary performed a short piece composed for her sisters. Lydia danced only with approved relations and did not once complain.

Mr. Collins cornered Viscount Hartley near the cake.