Page 73 of The Widower of Pemberley

Elizabeth was then called upon to make her vows. She looked about the room, her eyes falling on her family, her sister, her father, and then Emily and Georgiana. She finally looked at him.

Their eyes held.

She said in a clear voice, “I will.”

“Then I proclaim you husband and wife.”

It was done.

He hoped that Elizabeth would never come to terribly regret their marriage.

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth had the pleasure of witnessing Emily’s and Georgiana’s delight after the marriage ceremony was complete.

Her mother sobbed and repeated, “God has been good. He has been so very good to us.”

Charlotte embraced her tightly. “My dear, dear Eliza, you will be happy. I am sure you will be.”

Her papa could not stand, and he looked wan and tired. But he touched Elizabeth’s cheek and smiled. “My dear girl. I shall miss you so much.”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “I do not want to leave you.”

He smiled. “Change is often good, but it is always change.”

“I shall never, never not wish that you were closer.”

He laughed. “My dear, dear girl.”

Mr. Collins bowed and said gamely, “Whilst the circumstances are not the most propitious, and much that has occurred was of a questionable nature, and though I am by no means convinced that Lady Catherine will be pleased to hear the tale of what has transpired here, despite all this, you have married one of the most illustrious personages in the land, and I am honoured that you are my cousin.”

“Um…my thanks,” Elizabeth replied.

After they all toasted her and ate the large cake that Mrs. Bennet had somehow procured on such brief notice, Mr. Bennet went to his room to sleep, while the rest of the party sat down to dinner.

A shudder of not wholly irrational anxiety shot through Elizabeth as the door closed behind her father.

He might die during the night. That might be the last time she ever saw him.

And she would leave for Pemberley—perhaps tomorrow. She did not know Mr. Darcy’s plans. She might never see her dear papa again.

He would die.

Even if he did not die tonight, she was suddenly sure that he would die before they came south for the Season.

This thought made it hard for Elizabeth to feel the proper cheer that belonged to a wedding feast.

From his expression, Mr. Darcy’s mind was also stuck upon a sombre subject. Oddly, that companionship made Elizabeth feel better.

Mrs. Bennet had set a fine table, but, as she repeated many times, it was nothing to what she could have managed with more than five hours to prepare.

It turned out as they talked during the evening that there was not any plan for where she and her new husband would go for their wedding night.

A shiver ran through her whole body, causing her stomach and her bosom to tingle at the idea.

Mrs. Bennet looked startled when it was mentioned. “Lizzy, I have not had any chance to talk to you about…your duties.”

Elizabeth’s face burned.