My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Chapter Thirteen With This Ring I Thee Wed

Hardly before either Lizzy or Darcy knew it, October was ushered in and the planned second wedding loomed. Truthfully they had no serious disagreements regarding the reaffirming of their vows in the Pemberley Chapel. In fact, both would have happily planned and concluded what was essentially desired to be a simple, intimate affair within days of returning home from their seaside holiday. Lizzy theatrically teased by performing the wedding march with exaggerated waddling and thrusting her stomach out as far as possible. However, she honestly had no moral conflict with exchanging vows in a holy sanctuary with her husband, gravid state or no.

Only two elements gave them pause and delayed the exchange.

One: Georgiana, upon hearing the news, burst forth with schemes and expectations regarding everything from the gown to the flowers to the guest list. Initially both the bride and groom were flummoxed as they saw the cozy, understated affair they envisioned turning into an event. They managed to rein in the more extravagant ideas Georgiana invented, the white doves being a bit too much even for the romantic Darcy, but her enthusiasm was contagious, especially to the fore-noted hopelessly maudlin groom. Even the generally pragmatic Lizzy had to admit that a new gown was desirable.

Second: Lizzy and Darcy realized that whether modest or ostentatious, having as many family members as feasible around to witness the celebration was a pleasing prospect.

For these reasons Lizzy did lean toward waiting until after the baby was born, thinking that then her parents and Kitty would be visiting as well as the Bingleys settled nearby. Darcy pointed out that they could not count on Dr. Darcy still being in England. The truth is, he intoned with all the logic at his disposal, there would necessarily be several members of the family busy elsewhere no matter when they scheduled it, and he stubbornly persisted in his assertion that the ritual take place as soon as possible. The ultimate point of the ceremony was to please his burning need to wed in the Darcy family church.

This latter fact so moved Lizzy that she could not refuse his heart's desire had she wished it. She was well aware of the fact that the vast majority of women would be fortunate to find a man who longed to wed them once, let alone twice! The relationship they now shared meant she wholly comprehended how important being married in the Pemberley Chapel was to him. Therefore, October twelve had been set as the date.

George was in residence and Richard was an added bonus highly pleasing to them both. The elder Fitzwilliams were at Rivallain, as were Jonathan and Priscilla. A hastily scribbled note delivered on the morning of the seventh from Hasberry announced that the Bingleys had arrived the day before. Lizzy was ecstatic. She desired for them to be present but had not expected them as their last communiqué had alluded to a late October relocation. Within minutes of reading the note Lizzy rose, stating the intent to drive to Hasberry immediately. Darcy leapt to intercept her midway to the door.

“You are absolutely not driving in your condition!”

“William! That is unfair! I am perfectly capable of handling the curricle. I drove it just three days ago to Lambton!”

“Lambton is less than five miles away and a well traveled road. Hasberry is nearly fifteen and partially desolate. It is not a matter of you being unable to handle the carriage, love, as I know you proficient.”

“Then why…” Her voice caught in a sob, Darcy gathering her into a firm embrace.

“Please placate my overprotectiveness just this once. I would worry so. Allow me a compromise: I shall send one of the grooms with a letter the moment you pen one and insist he tarry pending a reply.”

In this way they received confirmation of attendance from the Bingleys before the day was over. That same afternoon Madame du Loire delivered Lizzy's gown for the final fitting, and word reached Darcy that the jeweler had finished the ring. All was set in motion for the renewal of their vows.

October twelfth dawned crisp and cool, but cloudless and brightly sunny. Darcy woke with tingles of excitement racing through his body nearly as intense as on the morning of their official wedding day. Naturally there were a vast number of differences. On November twenty-eighth of 1816 he had barely slept a wink, dreams plagued with alternating enchanting visions of his glorious fiancée gliding toward him at the altar with dreadful images of the same glorious fiancée fading away in some horrible manner. His nervousness all throughout the morning had been extreme; he was at times virtually ill from the tension.

However, the greatest difference was that on this wedding day he woke with the luscious softness of his wife's body curled in his arms, knowing with blissful conviction that he would not be waiting until late in the evening to make love with her. With this delicious thought premier, he lightly kissed Lizzy's shoulder and commenced gossamer caresses over downy flesh.

“I believe we have erred, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered sleepily.

“In what respect?” Kisses deepening along her neck.

“It is bad luck to espy the bride prior to the wedding, so I am told.”

“I shall keep my eyes closed.”

Lizzy giggled, turning abruptly and forcefully flipping him onto his back. With a grace truly astonishing for a woman eight months pregnant, she was astride his thighs and had his arms pinned to the sides before he took a breath. Despite his surprise both eyes were tightly shut, laughter escaping as her lips descended onto his.

She bestowed nibbling kisses and teasing suckles along his neck for several rapturous minutes before murmuring, “It is getting quite difficult to bend over, my lover. Your son insists on occupying all available space including a portion of my lung cavity, I believe. Typical Darcy, determined and insatiable.”

“I have no idea to what you refer, Mrs. Darcy.”

Lizzy lifted slightly, both to inhale deeply and to gaze upon her handsome spouse's face. She smiled at his pretend haughtiness and sealed eyes, thick lashes lying beautifully on stubbly cheeks. With elbows resting on his solid upper chest, she tenderly stroked her fingertips over his unshaven jaws.

“Open your eyes, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered.

He obeyed, love radiating forth as hands initiated their adoring journey over her velvet knees and thighs. Passion rose naturally, neither consciously encouraging the rampant excitement nor able to halt the surging tide had they wanted to.

“I love you.” The hush was broken simultaneously by low voices expressing an emotion tangible and critical to survival. Individual hearts no longer independent of the other; beats in synchrony and the impetus for each subsequent stroke. Skin as familiar to probing fingertips as the flesh covering their own body, yet never unscathed by the merest brushing glance.

Lizzy leaned to capture parted and waiting lips, the kiss serious with intent. Oh, the sweetness! How blissful a kiss with the one you love. Lips tingling, blood rushing, heat escalating, moisture shared, air of life mingling, and senses reeling from the intimacy.

Lizzy's lengthy tresses fell as a veil over Darcy's arm where he caressed one silky arm and neck. “God, how I love you,” she exclaimed, trailing additional declarations between hard kisses all about his flushed face.

Lost in the sensations, Darcy's eyes slid closed in ecstasy. Their bodies surging together, buried deep physically and spiritually. Hoarse moans and guttural groans were unleashed as the excitement coalesced and burst forth through every nerve and cell, spines stiffening simultaneously with hands clenching hands. Eternal joy expressed in the most elemental manner.

“I love you, William!”

“I love you, Elizabeth!”

Lizzy lifted slightly, inhaling deeply and gazing upon her husband. Never was he more attractive than after they made love. His fair skin flushed, noble brow moist, lush lips ruddy, firm chest heaving, and pulse pounding in his throat. Yet it was not the readily visible signs of his pleasure that moved her the most. Rather it was the glow of utter elation and peace that suffused his countenance, eyes shining with total satiation, and mouth smiling with transcendent happiness and devotion. She did not require a mirror to know that her mien reflected the same as she could feel the gushing emotions through and on her skin.

Eventually he untangled his fingers from hers, tenderly grasping arms, and pulled her onto the bed beside him, instantly enveloping and burying his face between her breasts. “I would die without you, Elizabeth,” he mumbled. “I fear my heart would cease to beat. Words do not exist in the English language to convey how deeply I love you. You are my life and breath, my very soul. Thank you for today.”

Lizzy smiled, stroking through his thick hair. She had no need to reply, his articulations precisely stating her heart. The heart that belonged wholly to him and survived in him. All too soon they would need to rise and part for the day's scheduled event. For now they reveled in their sweet communion, allowing senses to be restored to normalcy at a gradual rate. Softly they caressed, speaking of love and marriage and children and Pemberley until the clock insisted they leave their bed and begin preparations for their second wedding.

Approximately a mile west from Pemberley Manor, along the avenue that connected to the main road leading to Lambton, nestled a small cluster of buildings amid a shallow valley in the midst of which stood Pemberley Chapel. The accompanying structures primarily consisted of resident dwellings for Pemberley workers in addition to a handful of simple business establishments. The tiny hamlet did not have a proper name, traditionally referred to as Pemberley Village or just the Village. It existed for the sole purpose of providing the most basic necessities for the tenants of Pemberley so as to avoid traveling the additional miles to Lambton during a busy day, and as a central meeting place for socializing. A modest assembly hall was located across from the church, and the orphanage was situated on the northern edge of the settlement.

For most Sundays during the warm months the Darcys walked to the chapel for services. Today, however, they would not only travel by carriage but would travel separately. Once parted for their dressing rooms, they adhered to the time-honored custom of remaining secreted apart until reconnecting inside the sanctuary.

The Bingleys had arrived the afternoon before. Charles was clearly harried and displeased to vacate Hasberry so soon after moving in, but the general air of frivolity that inevitably surrounded Col. Fitzwilliam and Dr. Darcy bolstered his spirit. They, naturally, were having tremendous fun with poor Darcy, regurgitating every pre-matrimony jest known to man up to and including giving intimate relationship advice about the wedding night; the latter especially ridiculous as neither were married. Before an hour passed Bingley's native gaiety was revived and he readily joined into the amusement. The evening's “bachelor party” was lively, Darcy unobtrusively slipping away sober and long before the other three.

Darcy owned several outfits of a highly formal cut and weave, allowing Samuel to pick one at random. The end result was nearly identical to what he wore for his official wedding day, or at least he thought so. The truth was he had taken no particular note as to his attire on that day either, trusting Samuel to provide the best. Darcy may have owned an obscene amount of clothing, but he honestly paid little attention to what he wore on a daily basis. Samuel chose a jacket and matching breeches of deepest blue wool, almost black, with a waistcoat of the same color, but accented with an edging of burnished auburn.

Darcy fingered the vest with a faint frown. “I do not recall this waistcoat,” he mumbled, glancing at Samuel's inscrutable visage. “Have I always possessed it?”

“As you say, sir,” Samuel replied flatly, avoiding his Master's eyes.

Darcy smiled inwardly, suddenly suspecting the color of his wife's gown, but making no further comment. The proffered white silk cravat also sported a faint glistening of interwoven auburn threads.

Richard wore his best dress uniform, Bingley in a fine suit of beige wool, and Dr. Darcy for once in full English gentleman's attire. His lanky frame was encased in a tailored suit of bluish-grey with long trousers to match, the reserved effect counteracted somewhat by the florid Kashmir scarf of innumerable colors utilized as a neckcloth.

“Dashing, Uncle,” Darcy proclaimed sardonically upon entering the parlor where the men gathered. George grinned, lifting his teacup in salute.

“How is the groom this morning?” Richard asked. “Feeling well? No last-minute jitters? I am sure we could find a way for you to bow out gracefully.”

“Hysterical. Have you been rehearsing these witticisms all week?”

“Only for a day or two.”

“I daresay, Darcy, I am yet astounded that you of all people are purposely placing yourself on ceremony a second time,” Bingley declared with a shake of his head. “I could never force myself to go through with it again.”

Darcy smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “It is not quite the same, Bingley. It would require a far stronger man than me putting a pistol to my head to induce me to stand before all of Meryton society a second time. This is vastly different. Although enduring these two jokers and their clever barbs for the past week has been torturous.”

“It is becoming ugly in here, Colonel. We better get him to the church where the aura of God will halt his tongue. Besides, I am starving so we need to hurry along. Knowing Mrs. Langton, she has a special breakfast planned for after the festivities.”

Lizzy, in contrast, was inundated with female approbation. Jane, Georgiana, Lady Matlock, and even Marguerite were effusive with praise for the dress, hair, jewels, and the entire concept. Lizzy's dressing room was a veritable hotbed of feminine giggles, perfume, and romanticism with the ladies exchanging sentimental musings of husbands and amour. Emotions were high and the air thick with excitement. Mrs. Reynolds played the part of commander, assuring the men were well away before Mrs. Darcy departed for the church.

Reverend Bertram had nearly collapsed from overwhelming delight when Darcy approached him regarding the renewal ceremony. Like Mr. Darcy, the good Reverend had also suffered an acute case of disappointment at having the marriage of his patron, a man he had known since birth, wed so far away. Naturally he would never have voiced this dismay to Mr. Darcy, but the intense happiness expressed left no doubt how he felt about the matter. Now he stood at the altar of his beloved chapel, wearing his best formal vestments, beaming at Mr. Darcy and the entire assembly. Outwardly he was sedate and composed, but the rosiness to his cheeks and broad grin revealed his enthusiasm.

The small chapel was decorated with a dozen bouquets of fall flowers and two large candelabras. No other adornments were necessary, the interior lovely as is. Aside from the family no other guests had been invited. After much debate, both Darcys wishing for several of their friends to be present, it was unanimously decided that if they invited anyone then all of Derbyshire would feel slighted. Neither wanted their private affair to become a countywide social extravaganza. Those of their closest friends understood. As a compromise, they planned a dinner party for that evening as a way to share the occasion with their intimates without causing an uproar.

The moment Darcy assumed his proper station to the left of Reverend Bertram, facing the gathering of his dearest relatives smiling at him from the richly polished oak benches, peace infused his soul. All niggling thoughts of the foolishness or inanity of his desire for this ceremony vanished. He gazed upon the beloved persons before him, and as if by magic he saw his mother and father sitting in their customary spaces in the front pew. There too was the vision of his grandfather, unruly grey hair and bushy eyebrows framing gentle eyes of midnight blue. He could feel the presence of all the long generations of Darcys etched into the very beams and floorboards of the sanctuary. Somehow he knew that just as surely as God Himself watched this holy ritual, so did the innumerable ancestors who had been baptized, married, and eulogized in this room. Peace, contentment, and supreme happiness were the ruling sentiments. None of the nervousness from before plagued him. Everything was different this time.

Until Elizabeth appeared on the threshold. Instantly Darcy was struck with the identical paralyzing awe and breathless wonder from November past. His heart constricted and the room faded as his eyes peered through a narrow tunnel focused exclusively on his stunning wife. Was she more beautiful than on their wedding day? Nothing would supplant the vision of Elizabeth Bennet in her wispy white wedding gown with golden ribbons braided through her hair.

No, it was the immediate surge of joy and rush of thanksgiving that blazed through his soul that rendered him mute and transfixed. She was everything to him. Suddenly the handful of minutes it took for her to glide gracefully down the aisle was an eternity. The need to touch her, smell her perfume, hear her voice, and gaze deeply into her astounding eyes was overpowering, causing his knees to nearly buckle and lungs to burst. Each step she took was an individually painted portrait hung in his mind's gallery alongside the array of Elizabeth portraits already residing.

Her gown was a deep auburn, richly woven of glossy damask with a fine pattern of lacy leaves. The color accented her chocolate eyes and lustrous brunette locks—hence why Darcy so adored her in brownish hues—and the understated embellishments of lace and ribbons suited their mutual taste for minimalism. Another Marguerite creation with highlighting gems displayed her glorious hair to best advantage. There was no hiding the swell of their child, and the maidenly blush was gone from her cheeks, Lizzy now a woman of elegance and maturity. This refinement manifest in all aspects of her bearing and mien. Darcy's heart grew further with pride and vaulting love.

Lizzy reached her incredible husband, hands clasped firmly and eagerly as she mounted the dais steps. She only had eyes for him, so regal and handsome with warmth radiating and abiding affection transparent. They stared at each other frankly, no hesitation or tremulousness. The seconds stretched, both lost in adoring gazes and startling slightly when Reverend Bertram spoke.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together, once again, this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and His Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with His presence and first miracle that He wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men. Therefore, it is not by any to be embarked on unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained.

“First, marriage was ordained for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, marriage was ordained for a remedy against sin and to avoid fornication; that such persons as have not the gift of abstinence might marry and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, marriage was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be rededicated.

“Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth have chosen this day to stand a second time before God in His Holy Sanctuary to consecrate their union, to express their undying faithfulness and devotion one to the other, and to receive the blessing. Their commitment to each other and to the institution of marriage as ordained in the Divine Scriptures is a testimony. I shall not ask if any know just cause for these two to not be wed, as that time has past. Assuredly the communal dedication they have shown coupled with the desire to suffer through another long-winded ritual proves their loyalty and seriousness.”

The Reverend smiled, breaking from his solemn pose, as a soft ripple of chuckling ran through the assembly. Lizzy and Darcy laughed lowly, tearing their gazes from the other's face to glance with twinkling eyes toward the Reverend.

Clearing his throat and raising his voice, Rev. Bertram resumed, “Fitzwilliam, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

Darcy's smile was faint, merely a tiny lift to the corners of his mouth, face awash with serene intensity as he responded in a firm voice, “I will.”

Lizzy inhaled deeply, eyes blinking rapidly to abolish the tears threatening to overflow. Darcy squeezed her hands, and so mesmerized was she by the tender emotion saturating his face that she nearly missed the Reverend's words.

“Elizabeth, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the Holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love him, honor him, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

She wanted to shout her promise loudly with a ringing exultation, so enormous was her love and desire. Therefore, it was with some surprise that her words caught in a thick throat and she swallowed before able to utter in a husky tone, “I will.”

Darcy smiled broadly, releasing a soft whistle while arching a brow. Lizzy flushed and giggled, pressing his hands firmly.

“At this time Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth shall declare their vows to each other. Per their request they have chosen to restate their promises with a unique melding of the traditional vows as well as personal sentiments.”

Darcy stepped closer to Elizabeth, his hands completely encasing her smaller ones and eyes locked onto her face. Emotions overwhelmed him, but his voice was loud and clear. “I, Fitzwilliam, take thee Elizabeth to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth. Elizabeth, you are my heart and soul. I promise to love you for all of eternity, trusting that even death shall not part us but for a moment. You have renewed my spirit, brought me purpose, and healed my heart. My gratitude is immeasurable and I vow to spend my life proving my thankfulness.”

He paused, squeezing her hands before removing one to reach into his pocket. Clasping her left hand and gazing intently into her eyes, he said, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The narrow band he slipped onto her third finger, nestling perfectly next to the one placed there nearly a year ago, was almost identical. His mother's engagement ring, given with extreme formality to Elizabeth on the afternoon after their engagement rendezvous in the meadow, was constructed of gold and adorned with a one-carat star sapphire of vivid blue, centered between two half-carat diamonds. Darcy's father had personally designed the ring for his mother. The tale told to his children was that he had searched all over England for the most exquisite sapphire he could find. Like many family stories, James Darcy embellished the tale for the amusement of his children, yet Darcy did not doubt his father's devotion to seek the very best for the woman he had loved and waited on for four years. Whatever the truth, the ring was magnificent and Lizzy remained awestruck that something so elegant belonged to her. The wedding band Darcy had designed for Lizzy was delicate; a slim band of gold in a braided pattern with three petite diamonds spaced with two small blue sapphires. For the sake of continuity he had ordered today's band fashioned similarly except with three sapphires and two diamonds. Placing it on her finger was not quite as profoundly moving as the first time, or at least he did not feel as lightheaded and dazed with emotion, but his heart skipped a beat and his fingers trembled.

Lizzy was momentarily speechless, tears welling and throat tightening. Darcy grasped her hands with a gentle caress, spontaneously lifting them to his lips for a soft kiss. Their eyes met, Darcy winking and smiling brightly.

Lizzy returned his smile, lifting her chin and speaking strongly, “I, Elizabeth, take thee Fitzwilliam to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, 'til death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth. Fitzwilliam, the life I did not realize was empty became full on the day you married me. You have graced me with your love, your soul, and your entire being. I am complete in you, a woman because of you, and a mother as a gift from you. Eternally I shall love you, and forevermore I pledge to strive in all ways to foster your happiness.”

Emotion threatened to engulf him at her words, vigorous breaths necessary as she completed her earnest vows. The modicum of calm he attained was assaulted seconds later when, with a secretive smile, she dipped into a hidden pocket of her gown, withdrawing a wide band of brushed gold. Turning his left hand upward, she slowly glided the warmed metal over his ring finger while reciting:

“Fitzwilliam Darcy, with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and all that I possess I share with thee: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” She lifted the ring-clad finger to her lips, bestowing a tender kiss. “I love you, William,” she whispered for his ears only.

“Elizabeth!” Darcy's mouth had dropped open in utter shock, shattered emotions strewn beyond the ability to reassemble. Thankfully Reverend Bertram sensed his stupefaction and looming collapse, smoothly assuming control by leading the assembly in a prayer. Darcy and Lizzy harkened to his words peripherally, captured by the other's concentrated stare.

Lizzy was beaming, quite smug at having astonished her husband so completely. Darcy thrilled at the sensation of the solid reminder of her promise heavy on his flesh. Men rarely wore wedding bands; it being a cultural custom not widely adhered to in England. Yet the feel of the metal on his finger was wonderful, and he wholly comprehended with stunning clarity why the visible, tangible evidence of matrimony was so vitally important to women. His heart soared and he knew without a doubt that he would proudly display her token of their unending love and fidelity for all of his life.

The Reverend finished the benediction, laying his hands atop Darcy's and Lizzy's clasped ones, intoning in a ringing voice, “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder! Forasmuch as Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of rings, and by joining of hands, I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The short conclusion was timely and adequate for Darcy to restore a semblance of coherency to his frayed sensibilities. The urge they felt to kiss each other was painful in intensity, but they resisted, managing to appropriately respond to Reverend Bertram's forceful declaration, “May I present, to my tremendous honor, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

The day's activities were jubilant. A delicious breakfast repast was served by Mrs. Langton, surpassing all expectations. Laughter was rampant, congratulations and well wishes abounding. Merriment and frivolity reigned, augmented as additional guests began arriving as the afternoon progressed. Lizzy and Darcy stayed as close together as feasible, deluged with innumerable requests to replay the vows and display their rings. The women universally wiped teary eyes, glancing speculatively at their husbands while the gentlemen feigned ignorance. It is doubtful that Darcy sporting a band would initiate a fashion trend, but more than a few of the younger men of their acquaintance privately thought the gesture romantic. None ventured a negative word and even George found no cause to tease.

The general air of gaiety was delightful, but eventually Darcy snapped. The need for even a minute of solitude with his wife multiplied to a craving hunger until he finally grasped her elbow, politely excusing themselves from the cluster of females surrounding, and led her to his study. Leaning against the door, he pulled her into his embrace as close as possible with bulging belly intruding, cupping her face with firm palms. Lizzy fully expected him to kiss her, had closed her eyes and pursed her lips in anticipation, only to open them moments later when the blissful sensation of his mouth was not felt.

He was staring with smiling, blue-eyed Darcy intensity. “William?”

“Elizabeth Darcy. I love you.”

“And I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she replied with a chuckle. “Was it all you dreamed of, beloved? Is your heart content now that we have married in the Darcy chapel?”

“My heart is content married to you, my love. Today's ceremony fulfilled a family tradition and provided me the opportunity to again express my undying faithfulness to you, my precious wife. I am grateful for many things, but especially that you still love me in spite of my mawkishness.”

“Among your many stellar attributes that heighten my love for you, sir, your mawkishness is listed. I would not wish for you to be any other way!”

“Elizabeth, beautiful, sweet, sensual, clever Elizabeth.” He caressed over her soft neck, lips brushing imperceptibly along her jaw. “I must tell you how incredibly I love my ring. I shall wear it forever, a treasure of you. What made you think of it?”

His lips had traveled to her ear, Lizzy rapidly succumbing to the allure of him. “Hmm… I wanted to make this occasion exceptional, to surprise you. I do not actually know what made me think of it. I guess it was you planning my ring, an additional token not really necessary as I told you.” She withdrew, lifting his chin to peer into his eyes seriously. “William, you never fail to gift me with something special. You are far better at such things than me, despite your assertions to being uncreative.” She kissed him lightly. “I wanted you to have a tangible remembrance of this day. To express how profoundly moved I am by all you do for me. William, I love you so very much!”

She kissed him fiercely, Darcy pulling her closer and responding with yearning. Seconds later she broke the kiss, eyes less than an inch away as she stroked softly over his face. “The ring is symbolic of our love. Strong as metal, precious as gold, brightly shining, and without end. I know you will treasure it, but I want you to understand that if it is uncomfortable in any way, you do not need to wear it. I know it is odd. I also know you; on or off your finger you will revere what it represents and cherish it.”

Darcy was shaking his head with increasing vigor, finally halting her words with his mouth on hers. “Stop, Elizabeth! I love the ring and will wear it for all the reasons you stated. Nothing you give me in love could be uncomfortable or odd. In fact, quite the opposite. I rarely wear the Darcy signet, as you know, because the weight bothers me especially when I am working. This,"—and he held up his left hand, glittering gold band at home on his slender finger—"feels as if it belongs, as if it has always been there.”

He grasped her hand, lifting for a lingering kiss to each fingertip. Then he grinned, “See how you have altered me. I am not the faintest bit embarrassed to flaunt my emotional qualities for all to gawk.”

Lizzy laughed. “I delight in this, my lover. However, I rather like the severe, reserved man I fell in love with. Save the worst of your saccharine aspects for our intimate moments; otherwise, the boys on the play yard may torture you.”

He laughed richly. “I always could prevail over the other boys, so I have no fear.”

“Braggart,” she teased.

“Yes, this is true. Darcy of Pemberley, prideful and arrogant. And now I have you by my side to heighten my conceit. Add a perfect child to the mixture and I shall likely be uncontrollable in my vanity. Whatever shall you do with me?”

“Unleash Dr. Darcy to restore your humility through biting sarcasm. First, however, I wish to passionately kiss my handsome husband for several minutes. Contain yourself as best you can, my lover, as we do have guests to attend to.”

“I make no promises,” he mumbled with lips already occupied in pleasanter pursuits than talking.

In the end they did manage to restrain their baser impulses… barely. The partying would continue late into the night, one meal melding into the next. Most of the guests would end up dwelling at Pemberley for the night, either because they lived a distance away, such as the Drurys and Sitwells, or because the gentlemen were too intoxicated and women too exhausted to travel. Pemberley had not hosted such a lively and large gathering for months, most of their previous dinner parties modest affairs. As typical Lizzy was extroverted, seemingly everywhere at once, and in every way the perfect hostess. Also typically Darcy was reticent, even the group of only friends and family wearing at times. Nonetheless, his happiness was apparent to all, the constant smile and glittering eyes belying his aloof pose. To this crowd of folks who had known Darcy the man for years, he was downright ebullient.

In point of fact, the Darcys enjoyed themselves immensely, Lizzy so weary she needed to be carried up the final flight of stairs and long hallway.

“One of the drawbacks to a manor Pemberley's size is how far apart all the rooms are,” she muttered sleepily against her husband's neck.

Their second wedding was not consummated that night, but it did not matter overly to Darcy. After all, he had the remainder of his long life to make love to his adorable wife. And this was a mission he accepted gladly and would accomplish frequently with utter joy.