Page 129 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

When the rector pronounced them man and wife, Fitzwilliam’s solemnity gave way to a smile so openly happy that Elizabeth could not help answering it with one of her own. She was Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and for the first time since Lydia disappeared, Elizabeth looked toward the future with joyful anticipation.

* * *

Pemberley was filled with guests when the wedding party returned.

Elizabeth had crossed the entrance hall only days before as Mr. Darcy’s betrothed, trying not to stare at the great staircase or reveal how thoroughly the house astonished her. She entered it now upon her husband’s arm and found the experience entirely different. The servants stood waiting to receive them, and every person she passed addressed her as Mrs. Darcy.

Fitzwilliam bent his head toward her. “You have become very quiet, darling. You need not be overwhelmed by all of this. Mrs. Reynolds will help you with anything you do not know, and so will I.”

“I am not overwhelmed, sir. I am merely discovering that being Mrs. Darcy requires some adjustment.”

Georgiana reached them before they entered the drawing room and glanced from her brother to Elizabeth, smiling through her tears.

“Lizzy, you are my sister now. I have wanted to call you that all morning.”

Elizabeth embraced her. “Come, sweet sister, walk with us to the drawing room.”

Georgiana took her proffered arm, and they went together into the drawing room.

The wedding breakfast lasted well into the afternoon, and Elizabeth spoke with more of Fitzwilliam’s friends and neighbors than she could hope to remember. She accepted their congratulations while gradually becoming accustomed to hearing herself called Mrs. Darcy, and whenever she looked across the room, she seemed to find her husband already looking at her.

Jane sat beside Mr. Bingley during the breakfast, and Elizabeth saw the ease that had grown between them. As she watched, Jane leaned nearer to tell him something. He bent his head to hear her while she rested her hand lightly upon his sleeve. They continued their quiet conversation as though no one else were in the room.

Caroline, seated farther down the table in dark green, caught Elizabeth’s eye and raised her glass with a smile. Elizabeth returned it, hoping that whatever uneasiness had entered their friendship during the days before the wedding would pass. Caroline had been her friend before Fitzwilliam became her husband, and Elizabeth did not wish to lose her.

By late afternoon, most of the congratulations had been offered, and the guests began to depart. Jane remained at Pemberley as the Darcys’ guest, after the Gardiners and Radcliffs returned to Ashcroft.

* * *

Morning light had begun to enter the room when Elizabeth woke with Fitzwilliam asleep behind her, his arms wrapped around her.

She remained still, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing before carefully turning until she faced him.

His dark hair was tousled across his forehead, and his thick lashes lay dark against his cheeks. Without the reserve and responsibility he carried through his waking hours, he looked younger, as though sleep had removed some of the cares she had come to recognize even when he did not speak of them.

Elizabeth studied him at leisure. This was her husband, and even after the vows, the ring, and his passionate cries of pleasure of the night before, the thought still seemed extraordinary.

His eyes opened, and a sleepy smile appeared.

“Good morning, darling. I wondered whether waking beside you could possibly be more wonderful than I imagined it would be.”

Elizabeth reached up and brushed the dark lock of hair from his brow. “I was trying not to wake you, sir.”

He drew her closer and kissed her before brushing a strand of hair from her face. His gaze traveled over her features before returning to her eyes.

“You are very beautiful, my darling. Every bit of you. I believe I am the happiest man in England, and although that is precisely the sort of thing a newly married man is expected to say, I truly mean it.”

Elizabeth ran her fingers over his mouth and along his jaw before burying them in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I never expected to be so happy, Fitzwilliam. I was certain Lydia’s ruin had destroyed my chance of happiness forever. I could not imagine a life in which I would have such happiness.”

His expression changed, but Elizabeth laid her fingers across his lips before he could speak.

“I do not say it to make you sad. I say it because I was wrong, and I have never been so grateful to be wrong about anything.”

Fitzwilliam took her hand from his mouth and kissed her palm. “Then we shall both be grateful, because I too had believed there was no happiness of this kind left for me either.”

Elizabeth moved closer and kissed him.

Conversation gave way to other pleasures, and the rest of the world was forgotten.