Page 175 of Companions of Their Youth
Only ten.
He sighed heavily, shoulders tight. “Is it possible for minutes to last entire centuries?”
“On your wedding day?” Fitzwilliam grinned. “Absolutely.”
∞∞∞
“Elizabeth! Elizabeth, do get up, the clock has already struck seven! Jane, you must rise, the maid is waiting! Oh, where is the second hair ribbon? And Lizzy, you must eat something! Do not faint in the middle of your vows, it is unbecoming!”
The morning began, as so many others had, with the shrill declarations of Mrs. Bennet sweeping through the house like a whirlwind. But this morning, Elizabeth smiled.
There was something oddly grounding about her mother’s noise. Her hands might be shaking, her heart fluttering—but the world was still familiar, still hers.
She sat up slowly and stretched, her hair falling loose over her shoulders. Across the room, Jane was already seated at the vanity, a maid pinning pale roses into her gleaming curls. They had decided the day before to retire early so as to not be tired for the wedding, but Jane wished to dress together in Elizabeth’s room.
Jane looked serene—but pale. Her hands fidgeted slightly in her lap.
Elizabeth found herself wondering, not for the first time, whatpreciselytheir mother had told Jane about the wedding night. Whatever it was, it had left her sister looking both angelicand faintly doomed. She did not feel comfortable, however, approaching the matter with her older sister.
Mrs. Gardiner entered then, brisk and calm, taking one look at the room before directing maids like a general. “Warm water to the basin. Sarah, begin with Miss Elizabeth’s hair. Rosewater for her temples. No, not that sash, the ivory one with the embroidery. Good.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth murmured, grateful.
Jane and Elizabeth had bathed the night before—unusual for the season, but deemed necessary by their mother—and their hair had been left to dry in curls overnight. While Jane donned her wedding gown, Elizabeth sat as Sarah began weaving the soft brown lengths into a half-knot, letting the rest fall freely in soft curls, pinned here and there with clusters of orange blossoms.
“You look beautiful, Jane,” Elizabeth said, watching through the mirror’s reflection as the maid finish the last of Jane’s buttons.
At last, it was time.
Elizabeth’s dress was brought forward with reverent care. It was not a brilliant white, but a soft luminous ivory silk, fine and flowing, with long sleeves and a high waist. A delicate row of covered buttons lined the back, and at the bodice, an embroidered border of pale green and silver ivy leaves gave just the faintest shimmer in the light. The hem was trimmed with lace from her great-aunt’s wedding gown, and a fine cashmere shawl had been laid aside for warmth.
Silk slippers were slipped onto her feet. Gloves buttoned at her wrists. A light veil pinned delicately atop her curls, trailing just to the waist.
Then she was guided to the mirror. Jane sat down on the bed, watching with a tender expression on her face.
Elizabeth drew in a breath.
For a moment, she did not recognize herself.
It was not that she looked like someone else—but that for once, she saw herself as others must see her. Grown. Graceful. Luminous with something she could not name.
Her heart pounded.
“I look—”
“Radiant,” Jane said softly, rising beside her, equally lovely in her own pearl-gray silk and soft blue sash.
Elizabeth turned slowly, her gaze catching the reflection of her sister, her mother dabbing her eyes behind them, and Mrs. Gardiner beaming with pride.
And for the first time that morning, it struck her with full force.
She was truly going to marry him.
When she rose on the morrow, she would not do so as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Instead, she would awaken for the first time as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
She reached for Jane’s hand, and together, they crossed the threshold of Longbourn, leaving it as the Misses Bennets for the last time.
∞∞∞
