“Really, man, what took you so long?” cried Mr. Bingley.
“Sorry, old friend,” said Darcy. “The magistrate was still abed when I arrived. It took him awhile to come ‘round.”
“Magistrate?” said Elizabeth. “You knew where Mr. Bingley was?”
Darcy’s reply was interrupted by the appearance of four armed men.
“Ah, excuse me, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy. “George Wickham, by order of the magistrate, you are hereby under arrest.”
Mr. Wickham began to protest as the four armed men approached him; even Lydia was cowed as they approached and released her grip on him to back away. Two flanked him to bind his hands, the other two trained their weapons on him. Lydia shrank back against the wall.
“The magistrate is expecting you,” said Darcy, holding up a hand in response to Wickham’s sputtering. “He may be more inclined to hear your excuses than I find I am at present.” Darcy waved. The action would have been imperious on another man but Elizabeth was forcibly reminded that he was not simply Darcy. That small action held behind it all the power of his new office – the power of the house of Matlock.
“That man, Titan,” said Elizabeth. “He has Weatherby’s bank draft receipt.”
“So that’s how you managed it,” said Darcy. “I ought to have guessed. But you needn’t fear, your sisters’ dowries are safe. Those funds cannot be accessed except by either yourself or me appearing personally. Even Weatherby couldn’t get to them, should he wish it. We’ll inform the bank manager straight away; I expect the villain will have a surprise to greet him when he arrives.”
Wickham was escorted down the stairs.
“It is finally finished,” said Darcy, when the room was empty of guards and villains alike.
“It most certainly is not finished,” said Mr. Bingley. “What time is it?”
“The wedding,” said Elizabeth. “We must leave at once!”
“Mama will never forgive you for this, Lizzy,” said Lydia. “Holding up Jane’s wedding as though everyone jumps to suit your fancy. The world doesn’t wait on you, you know.”
“Hush, Lydia,” said Elizabeth.
“And it wasn’t Wickham’s fault, you know.” This last she aimed at Darcy.
“Certainly,” said Darcy. He made no other reply. Lydia knew not how best to interpret that, but she evidently remembered his station and held her tongue against any further comment in his direction. It did not prevent complaints to her sister, however, and until they drew up before the church, Lydia’s garrulous protestations continued.
Mr. Bingley dismounted and ran for the side door of the church. Lydia descended her horse inelegantly, despite help from the attending servant, all but plopping to the ground in her haste. Her protests continued as she set off after Mr. Bingley.
Elizabeth dismounted her horse and handed off the reins.
“Miss Bennet,” said Darcy before she could follow the others. “A moment of your time, if you will.”
“We are already atrociously late, my lord,” she said, turning to him. He handed over his reins and moved closer.
“And yet, I ask that you spare me a moment, if you will,” he said. “This will not go unsaid a moment longer.”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth. Her head was full of Jane and Mr. Bingley and George Wickham’s arrest; she could not imagine what he might say to her that could not wait an hour.
“Elizabeth Bennet, I have loved you since almost the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he said.
“Oh,” said Elizabeth. Her knees gave up their post against orders. Fortunately, there was a bench near the door to catch her as she sat.
“I think perhaps I was always meant to love you. I hated your being ill but I confess, I was also secretly glad of it, for it gave me time with you.
Asking you to pose as my fiancée was perhaps the most foolish thing I have ever done – I ought to have confessed my feelings then and made you my wife in earnest. I am sorry, more sorry than I can ever express, for the burdens that our arrangement has brought on you.
You have been my friend and my confidante, my lodestone even while we’ve been separated. One word from you, and I’ll ensure we’re never separated from each other again.”
Elizabeth was faintly aware of a noise near the church doors, but could not bring herself to look away from the man before her as he gracefully knelt to one knee.
“Elizabeth Bennet, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? As God and these good people are my witnesses, my life’s course began and will end with yours.”
Joy blossomed deep within her, expanding in her breast with such vigor that breathing became painful. Her smile ached in its sweetness, and tears came to her eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
His smile took the last of her breath. Darcy rose and clasped her hands, his eyes alight with happiness. Perhaps they just reflected her own.
“I suppose you think you needn’t ask me, now that we’ve heard you,” said Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth whirled around. Darcy’s hand clasped hers, steadying her when she would have stumbled. She’d heard some noise a moment ago but had not been conscious of their audience.
“On the contrary, sir,” said Darcy. “I owe you an apology for bringing your daughter in contact with someone who might have harmed her. I only hope to prove myself worthy by committing myself to her happiness every day for the rest of my life.”
“Do you love her?” asked Elizabeth’s father.
“If you witnessed my proposal just now, you know the answer to that,” said Darcy. His gaze met Elizabeth’s. “Yes. More than my life.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “How can you be so tiresome? Give your consent, for she’s already accepted him!”
“Give me leave to ask one more question, my dear, before I concede to your desire.” Mr. Bennet turned to his daughter. “Do you love him?”
Elizabeth’s heart simply spilled over, and she smiled. “I do love him. I love him so greatly that I shall not regret making Jane late for her own wedding.”
“The wedding!” said Mrs. Bennet as though she’d forgotten about it altogether. She waved her hands at them frenetically. “That’s why we have come, for Jane and Mr. Bingley will not let Mr. Collins start without the pair of you!”
“Given my daughter’s answer,” said Mr. Bennet, in no particular hurry. “I give my consent.”
Darcy bowed deeply before extending his hand to shake Mr. Bennet’s. Mrs. Bennet all but shrieking at them as they made for the church door.
Jane Bennet’s wedding was just what a wedding ought to be, excepting perhaps the tardiness of the wedding party. Her groom turned up at long last, handsome as ever and well-pressed, thanks to a quick-minded valet. Her sister, too, was delayed, but for a reason that could only bring joy to anyone who asked and therefore compounded to the joy of the day. The ceremony and subsequent union brought a smile to any who heard talk of it, which is what a wedding is supposed to do.
Of course, there were some for whom the ceremony was simply an event to be endured. Miss Caroline Bingley attended her brother’s wedding as any true sister ought, but was carried off to attend some mysterious business in London immediately afterward. She spoke to no one but the groom and bride and left without taking leave of anyone else in attendance.
Mrs. Hurst made excuses for her sister as best she could. Secretly she was most put out that she should have to pass the rest of the day without her sister’s audience. No one appreciated her clever set-downs like Miss Bingley.
Mr. Collins was told of the Earl’s engagement straight away. He felt obliged to inform his young cousin that her hopes of becoming countess were still in vain and that she ought to stop spreading rumors connecting her name to so great a house as Matlock. Before he could locate his cousin and deliver this lecture, he was intercepted by Miss Charlotte Lucas, a woman who showed so keen an interest in his work that Mr. Collins promptly forgot his objective and devoted the whole of his attention to educating Miss Lucas.
Miss Mary Bennet was happy for her sister, but the rest of the noisome event, she could do without.
“Good Lord, for alliance,” quoted Mary without humor. “Thus goes everyone to the world but I.”
“Shakespeare, Mary?” said Elizabeth, who was enjoying cake and watching her own groom-to-be. Mary enjoyed both her sisters’ happiness, she truly did, but she was coming to the crux of an engaging argument in her reading and was anxious to return to it.
“Aye, it’s a silly piece,” said Mary to Elizabeth. “But I enjoy the moral of it.” Elizabeth laughed.