What could possibly go wrong on Darcy’s wedding day? Hmm…

Chapter 2

Fitzwilliam Darcy checked his pocket watch again. The seconds did not tick any faster for his constant scrutiny. Fifteen minutes had never felt so long. Longer than the last year and half during which he had met, felt himself in danger of, and fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
He glanced through the open entrance door to the carriage which would convey him and Bingley to Longbourn’s chapel. The horses pawed impatiently. Darcy resumed pacing.
After another turn about the hall, he paused by the doors. Pulling out the ring he had selected especially for Elizabeth, he held it up to the morning sun, appreciating how the light gleamed crimson reflections off the polished garnets. Five glistening, red gemstones shaped into a forget-me-not encased with gold stretching around the band symbolized everything he had already promised in his heart to give Elizabeth: faithfulness, dependability, constancy, love, his very self.
He had fallen in love with her despite his best efforts to the contrary. Despite her better judgment, he thought with a chuckle. How proud he had been — insulting her, leaving her vulnerable to others’ self-serving lies, and demeaning everyone she held dear in a madcap declaration of his undying love. Of course, he had expected her to throw herself at his feet, grateful he would condescend to make an offer for her when he had so graciously overcome all the obstacles he had taken pains to enumerate. What a fool he had been.
Thank goodness their worst troubles were in the past, the valuable lessons learned and applied. It was easy — even for Darcy — to laugh at their faults now.
He had won Elizabeth’s heart, and he would cherish it all the more, knowing she gave her his hand in full understanding of his weaknesses (of which she was foremost). While Darcy was tempted to believe his lessons learned and his pride conquered, his character was too firmly formed to believe such deeply ingrained tendencies entirely subjugated. But he would always exert himself for Elizabeth.
He loved her so much. She demanded as much from him as he demanded from others, forcing him to soften his expectations and leaving more place in his heart for her. Would that she remained the same always.
Tucking the ring back into his pocket, he glanced again at his pocket watch.
Two minutes passed. With a grimace, he resumed his pacing.
Were it up to him, he would have applied for a common license and married Elizabeth weeks ago in a small, private ceremony. However, Elizabeth’s eyes had sparkled like flutes of champagne when Bingley had suggested a double wedding. Blast Bingley.
Darcy was not so cruel as to separate Elizabeth from her family before she was ready, and so he had been forced to develop patience as he waited for the banns to be read, contenting himself that he would not have to share her once they were wed. He had dutifully informed his family, his invitation lackluster in an attempt to discourage them from attending for that very reason. Otherwise, his relatives (except for his aunt Catherine) would descend on them and he would have to share Elizabeth, and he had waited long enough. Surely, a gentleman ought not be deprived of his wife after the ceremony and the wedding breakfast.
Soon, this same morning, he would give his name to Elizabeth. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. He would swear before God, her family, and friends that he would never part from her side from that day forward. He would love her and cherish her so long as they both lived. The blessed day had finally arrived, and Darcy was impatient to begin his life with the woman he adored.
He checked his pocket watch again and groaned. Ten minutes. The longest ten minutes of his life.

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