Mr. Bennet checked the ropes which held Elizabeth’s belongings to the cart. Assured that everything was securely fastened, he waved to the driver and watched as the wagon began to move away from Longbourn.
It was the last time he would render such services to his daughter. A small ache began to form in his chest. He knew for the next two months she would be close to him, but she would no longer be his. If he were to be truthful with himself, he knew she had ceased to be his on a rainy day in April when he had finally allowed her to meet Darcy.
It was as Matlock had predicted and Mr. Bennet had both hoped and feared. The companionability, the oneness of the two young people, was undeniable, unalterable. It was both the reason he had resisted the many requests of his friend to arrange a meeting between the two before now and the reason he had designed Oxford Cottage. He had needed time to prepare her for the life she would face as Mrs. Darcy, and he had also needed the time to prepare himself for her departure.
The time that she had been at Oxford Cottage had eased him into the idea of her not being in his library each evening or at the table each morning–always ready with a smile and hearty discussion of books or news. But for the last three weeks, he had been given the gift of her presence one more time in his home, and the change once again felt abrupt.
He did not worry about her future. He knew his daughter and soon to be son would have a life filled with love. He grieved for the past. He stood for a few moments indulging such sentiments before pushing them aside.
There was good which would come from today’s changes. There would be children once again to bounce on his knee and introduce to all manner of books and interesting found objects. He chuckled to himself. As the grandparent, he could take liberties with his stories and treats in a way he was unable to with his own children.
He straightened his coat and hurried to where Elizabeth sat in the garden breathing deeply of the morning air. She looked at him as he approached. Her eyes glistened in the morning light and a tear slipped down her cheek. He reached out a hand and brushed it away with his thumb. Clearly, her thoughts this morning followed a similar path.
“You are to be happy on this most joyous of days, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet sitting next to her on the garden bench.
“I am happy, Papa, but I am also sad,” said Elizabeth. “So many memories fill this place. I shall miss it.”
“And it shall miss you.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “You must promise to remember it only as it gives you pleasure.” They sat silently for a moment. “The carriage is being readied. It seems it is almost time to go to the church. Shall we take one last turn in the garden before you mother seeks you out to fuss over your appearance?”
Elizabeth stood and smoothed the skirts of her wedding gown. “Do you think I will pass her scrutiny?” She spun a slow circle before him.
“I am sure there will be some small matter which will try your mother’s nerves, but to me, you look without fault.”
“Thank you, Papa.” She placed her hand on her father’s arm as they began walking, and drew a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Before the busyness of the day, I wished to thank you…for the memories I have here at Longbourn…and for Oxford Cottage to help prepare me for my new life.”
“It has been my pleasure to see you grow and take part in your education–I am proud of you, my daughter.” He stopped at the edge of the garden and turned to face her. “At this moment, in this garden, at this house, you are my little girl, but…” He pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and peeked at it. “…in thirty minutes you will be wife to a fine gentleman and mistress of a grand estate. My duty, my time of instruction, is over. It is time for you to begin your own family.” He placed a hand gently on her cheek. “In the sight of God, I have done my best by you.”
Elizabeth looked into his misty eyes and tears gathered once again along the rims of her own. “By God I have been blessed,” she said as she took the hand which lay on her cheek, placed a kiss within its palm and closed his fingers as if locking the kiss inside his fist.
“Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet!” Mrs. Bennet’s call rang out across the garden.
“It seems my mother has need of us, Papa. We dare not test her nerves too far.” She wrapped her arms around his arm and hugged it close.
He chuckled as they resumed walking. “No, it would not do for her to succumb to the vapours. They have not yet installed a fainting couch in the church, and I should think it impossible for her to remain at home in her chamber on a day such as today.”
“Papa!” Elizabeth chided. “You should not tease so. Though I do admit the thought of a fainting couch within the church is just what I needed to turn my spirits. I was afraid I would spend the whole of my morning in tears.”
“That would not do. What would Mr. Darcy think if his bride were to stand beside him being a watering pot? He might think you did not wish to marry him.”
“Papa!”
Mr. Bennet patted her arm. “My dear girl, have you not learned by now that there are more ways to speak your love for another than with flowery declarations and physical gestures?”
Elizabeth studied his face. The expression she saw there–the twinkle in his eye, the amused, upturned corners of his mouth–was so familiar. It wrapped itself around her heart and warmed her spirit. Recognition lit her eyes. In her mind, she could hear the comforting lilt to his voice and the softness of his chuckle. She thought of the light touches which often accompanied his teasing — the pat on her arm, the grasp of a hand, the small kiss on her forehead. She knew she had instinctively adopted this same habit. How many times had she, when overcome with emotion, turned to teasing those she loved?
She smiled mischievously and fingered the pearl and diamond pendant which hung on a fine silver chain about her neck. It was a gift from her father, passed down from his mother. “You are correct, Papa. Gifts are also very welcome expressions of one’s admiration of another.”
Mr. Bennet chortled.
“Is that not what you meant?” Elizabeth feigned innocence.
“You know very well what I meant, Elizabeth, or you would not be teasing me so.” Her father gave her hand a gentle pat. “Your mother awaits, my dear. It is her turn to accost you with her own words of affection.”
Elizabeth braced herself for the onslaught of criticisms which were sure to flow from her mother’s mouth, and flow they did. Her dress needed straightening; her hair needed Hannah’s attention one more time to see if that curl that was as unruly as Elizabeth could be contained though Mrs. Bennet doubted it could be; her bonnet needed one more flounce; and her flowers needed a more generous ribbon. When all was accomplished save for the curl that refused its bonds, Mrs. Bennet stepped back and looked upon her daughter with a smile.
“You shall have to do,” she said. “The man already knows what he is marrying. If we make you up to be too prim and proper, he may not recognize you.” Mrs. Bennet gave Elizabeth a wink and lowered her voice. “Today is the day a lady is allowed to be quite a good deal less than proper.” Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed. “Much better — you needed a little colour. We do not want a sickly looking bride.”
Mr. Bennet met the ladies at the front door. “I see your mother has worked her charms on you. A more radiantly blushing bride I have never seen since my wedding day.”
“Mr. Bennet. We shall be late if you stand about chattering instead of handing your daughter into the carriage.”
Mr. Bennet bowed. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in a playful tone.
“Mr. Bennet, your teasing does so vex my nerves.”
Elizabeth noted the smile that graced her mother’s face as she scolded and the wink she gave her husband. She shook her head. How had she not made the connection in all of these years? She had never taken her parents barbs toward one another as serious, but it was not until this moment as she watched her father take her mother’s hand and give it a kiss before handing her into the carriage to sit across from her daughter that she realized just how loving a relationship her parents really had.
The ride to the church was short in distance, but long in duration. Her mother could not contain her effusions over her daughter’s good fortune in snaring such a wealthy and handsome husband–the nephew of an earl, ten thousand a year, what jewels, what pin money, a fine estate and a house in town. On and on it went for the duration of the ride, ending only as the carriage arrived at the church.
“I knew you could not be so intelligent for nothing,” said Mrs. Bennet as she squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. There was a hint of pride in her voice and a softness to her expression. “Your Mr. Darcy is a very lucky man.”
“My dear Mrs. Bennet, we shall be late if you insist upon sitting about and chatting.” Mr. Bennet, wearing a playful grin, stood beside the carriage door, his hand extended to assist his wife. Mrs. Bennet stepped down from the carriage, accepted an arm from Mr. Matthews, and was escorted into the church.
“Are you ready, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth nodded and accepted her father’s proffered hand. Moments later they were standing at the entrance of the church and the doors were being pulled open. The church, though not crowded, contained a larger number of people than was customary at a wedding.
She drew in a deep breath and smiled as she took in the sight of the very handsome man standing at the front of the church waiting for her. She allowed herself a moment to admire him before she diverted her eyes to the people in attendance.
They had spoken of this. Both she and Darcy wished to recognize the individuals who had played such an important part in bringing them together. She greeted each one with a smile — the Phillips, who stood with the Gardiners, Lord and Lady Matlock, who stood with Georgiana, Richard and Lawrence, who stood with Miss Bingley, Mary, who stood with Mr. Matthews, and finally her mother, who stood with her two youngest sisters.
Here she stopped, spoke softly to her father and left his arm to give her mother a rose from the center of her bouquet. She kissed her mother’s cheek and whispered her love. Then, drawing a second rose from her bouquet, she placed it upon the book, the one that had been a gift from Darcy’s father and which now lay on the pew were his parents’ place would have been. She kissed her fingers and placed them lightly on the book while she whispered her thanks. Returning to her father’s side, she took the last few steps to stand beside Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bennet took Elizabeth’s hand from his arm and placed it in Darcy’s hand. Then, he covered both their hands with his own. To Darcy, he said, “Today, I give you a treasure far greater than rubies. Put your confidence in her, love her, and you shall lack for nothing.” He gave their hands a squeeze and placed a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek before taking his place.
Darcy looked to his uncle, Elizabeth’s uncles and her father. He thought of how through the machinations of these men, he had been led to a cottage in the woods in Hertfordshire where Elizabeth, chosen for him from her youth, had captured his heart, his mind, and his desires. He smiled down at her and turned to the rector eager to take the vows which would bind this rare and precious treasure to him forever.