Page 6 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
This was the sad ending to his blundering campaign. Bingley was marrying Jane Bennet, and Darcy was not marrying Elizabeth.
Without even thinking about it, he peeked over at Elizabeth. She was paying rapt attention to the vicar as he droned on about something or other. Was it his imagination, or was she a little pale?
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,” Jane Bennet repeated softly.
In sickness and health. And now Darcy was worried for Elizabeth. Had she been ill? Bingley had never said, and Darcy was certain his friend would have mentioned something had Elizabeth been seriously unwell.
He glanced over at Elizabeth again. Her eyes were fixed upon the vicar as though she had never heard anything as interesting as the words that were coming from the man’s mouth. It would probably behove him to listen, too.
He turned his eyes to the pastor and forced himself to attend to the rest of the service.
Elizabeth was a hardy, healthy woman, but standing in the church with Mr. Darcy so near made her feel a little faint. Now that she wanted Mr. Darcy to think well of her, she did not quite know how to act in his presence, and that made her anxious. She blinked and took a deep breath. Swooning at her sister’s wedding would be ridiculous and humiliating, and so she kept her eyes focused on Mr. Kendall as he read aloud from his book in a voice that rang throughout the chapel.
Jane was soon reciting her vows, the expression upon her countenance as close to blissful as Elizabeth ever expected to witness. Then the ring was on her sister’s finger and Mr. Bingley was reciting his vows to her.
“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship . . .”
Elizabeth tried not to think about a wedding night with Mr. Darcy, but it was little use. She was almost entirely ignorant of what such a night would entail, but he was so very handsome she did not think she would much mind it. When Mr. Kendall began to speak again, Elizabeth could stand it no longer. She turned her head slowly towards Jane and then glanced up quickly at Mr. Darcy.
All she could see was his handsome profile, for unlike her, he was paying attention as he ought. How maddening. Elizabeth would not place a hand over her racing heart and attempted to ignore the way her stomach flipped. She would maintain her composure, witness her sister’s signature in the registry, smile and laugh and congratulate the new Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. And then she would visit Jane in a few days, after Mr. Darcy had departed.
She stole another peek, noticing this time how neatly Mr. Darcy’s hair curled over his ear. Even his hair knew its place.
Elizabeth looked away.
Stop this, she told herself firmly. You cannot be upset with Mr. Collins because he did not accept your refusal and Mr. Darcy because he did.
Before she knew it, the bride and groom were being led to the register. She watched affectionately as Jane signed her name as Bennet for the final time. After the Bingleys stepped back to allow their witnesses to sign, Elizabeth took up the pen—just as Mr. Darcy was reaching for it.
Their hands touched. Elizabeth’s entire body lit on fire as though she had been struck by lightning. She yanked her hand away.
Mr. Darcy frowned. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet.” He withdrew.
Elizabeth wanted to speak, but it was as though her mouth was filled with cottonwool. She retrieved the pen and signed her name, then waited, hands clasped before her, as he did the same. Mr. Bingley was glancing between the two of them, probably to be certain the formalities were completed. Elizabeth offered him a small smile, and he returned it.
Mr. Darcy nodded at Mr. Kendall as he straightened and set the pen down.
“Mr. Darcy, I . . .” she began, but he shook his head.
“There is no need to explain, madam.” His voice was clear and deep and impossibly sad. Perhaps he was not congratulating himself on his near escape from her. Perhaps he was as grieved as she that such a match could no longer even be contemplated. Her heart went out to him as he gazed about the chapel—Mr. and Mrs. Bingley had now walked ahead—and then offered her his arm.
Elizabeth realised they were alone and gathered her courage. “Mr. Darcy, I would like to thank you, sir.”
He did not appear to have heard her, for his eyes were fixed on something outside. “It is raining,” he told her. “Wait just a moment.”
A footman was holding an enormous umbrella over the newly married couple, and Mr. Bingley was about to hand Jane into his—their—carriage. Elizabeth stood just inside the doorway to listen.
“It is silly to take the carriage to Longbourn, Charles,” Jane said. “It is but a brief walk from here.”
“You were taken ill the last time you were out in the rain,” Mr. Bingley said firmly. “The carriage is already here. There is no reason not to take it.”
Jane shook her head and smiled at her husband. “Very well. I shall not keep Harrington standing her in the weather holding our umbrella while we debate.”
“I knew you would see reason,” Mr. Bingley replied with an answering smile.
Mr. Darcy said something in a low voice to his friend and reached inside the coach. He emerged holding another umbrella just as Mr. Bingley handed Jane up. Her family waved the Bingleys off—or rather, Mamma waved them off—and the others began to walk back to the house.
Mr. Bingley watched them through the window as the carriage rumbled away.
