Page 102 of The Crown’s Gift

Mr Collins raised his glass to Sir Thomas. "To the gentleman whose valor preserved our sovereign and whose beneficence has improved the inheritance that, in the fullness of time—"

Charlotte touched his sleeve.

"To Sir Thomas," Mr Collins finished.

They drank.

Sir Thomas looked around the table. The King's judgment was generous. Lady Bennet found his hand beneath the cloth, and he let that answer suffice.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Darcys and the Bennets

The final month before Elizabeth's wedding proved that five educated daughters could still misplace the same length of lace.

Lady Bennet blamed Lydia. Lydia blamed the dressmaker. Kitty found the lace beneath a portfolio where she had placed it for safety. Miss Harwood closed the morning-room door and stood against it until everyone agreed to search one room at a time.

Elizabeth's gown was ivory silk, simpler than Lady Bennet preferred and finer than Elizabeth intended. The Queen's locket would rest at her throat. Jane embroidered a small spray of oak leaves inside the hem where no guest would see them.

"For the two houses," she said.

Mary composed a processional and refused to perform it herself.

"I wish to watch you enter," she told Elizabeth. "The organist can manage."

Kitty sketched Pemberley from a print and added a tiny figure in the foreground wearing Elizabeth's green walking dress. Lydia abandoned the doves and proposed bells on the carriage horses instead.

"One bell each," Lady Bennet permitted. "No more."

Sir Thomas reviewed travel arrangements, settlements, weather reports, and the quality of every bridge north of London as if Derbyshire had been discovered for the occasion.

Darcy endured fittings and legal papers at Longbourn while Bingley offered the wisdom of four months' marriage.

"Agree about curtains," Bingley advised. "They are not worth principle."

"What is worth principle?"

"Letters. Estate purchases. Whether a guest may remain six weeks. Eggs, apparently, are not."

"Your education advances."

"Jane is an excellent instructor."

Elizabeth and Darcy met almost daily but were seldom alone. Anticipation altered every ordinary exchange. When he handed her a cup, his fingers lingered. When she adjusted his cravat after Lydia declared it crooked, both forgot the room for one dangerous second.

One evening they walked the terrace while Sir Thomas watched from the library window with exaggerated visibility.

"Are you afraid?" Darcy asked.

"Of marriage?"

"Of leaving, Pemberley, my family, any of it."

Elizabeth considered. "I am afraid of becoming only Mrs Darcy in rooms where no one knew Elizabeth Bennet."

"Then I shall introduce you properly."

"You cannot command what people see."