The One Where They All Anticipate Their Vows

[the_shrubbery]

Definitely and totally completely PG.



Seven months

When Edward came home, he found his fiancee in a mess of bridal magazines, colour swatches and what looked to him like doily swatches. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head in a messy bun, and crowned with her reading glasses. She looked up with a slightly desperate look in her eyes.

‘Your mother was here,’ she said simply.

She did not need to say more. Edward understood.

‘Did you know that white was not my colour?’ Elinor said. ‘Apparently, it does not work with my skin.’

She held up two swatches of fabric.

‘I now have to make the decision between eggshell and ivory,’ she said. ‘And it is vital I do it today, because my gown should have been ordered three months ago.’

She waved the swatches.

‘So what do you think?’ she said. ‘Eggshell? Ivory?’

Edward’s eyes flitted from one to the other.

‘They look identical,’ he said finally.

‘Exactly!’ Elinor exclaimed. ‘But if I pick the wrong one, it would ruin everything. It would be like picking cream - can you imagine the horror?’

Edward sat down next to her on the sofa, took the fabric swatches out of her hand and put an arm around her shoulders.

‘It’s just so freaking ridiculous,’ Elinor said.

She started hiccoughing.

‘I mean, I’m thirty years old, I’m a surgeon, you would think I’m qualified to decide what dress I want to get married in,’ she cried. ‘And I have other things to do with my time, I mean, I do want it to be nice, but if I have to spend another afternoon looking at white fabric swatches when I have patients I need to see and -’

She buried her face in his shoulder and started to giggle.

‘We don’t have to do this, you know that,’ Edward said. ‘We don’t have to put up with her if you don’t want -’

‘She’s your mother,’ Elinor said. ‘I’m glad you two are talking again, and she has her heart set on this and -’

She made a noise which to him sounded halfway between a giggle and a sob, but which was probably just the hiccough.

‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell her to come to me because you’re busy.’

‘Thank you,’ Elinor muttered. ‘And tell her I want a pink dress.’

‘I will,’ Edward said. ‘And hey -’

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.

‘Yes?’

‘In spite of all this, I can’t wait to marry you.’

---

Three months

When Henry got to the little cafe, Catherine was already waiting for him, sitting at a table outside in the sun. She saw him approach and gave him a little wave, as if he would miss her otherwise.

‘Did you get something good?’ she asked.

Henry held up his shopping bag, not a little proud of himself.

‘New potatoes, green asparagus and the very first strawberries,’ he announced. ‘How did it go at the travel agency?’

‘I was thinking a cruise, perhaps,’ Catherine said. ‘Maybe in the Carribean?’

She leaned her head to one side and smiled at him and Henry was smitten all over again.

‘Mrs Allen took a cruise once and she said it was unbelievable,’ Catherine continued. ‘Here, I got a brochure from the agent -’

She ducked under the table and rummaged in her bag.

‘She said that alternatively, a Scandinavian cruise would be lovely in August -’ she muttered indistinctly.

‘Have you ordered anything yet?’ Henry asked.

Catherine reappeared.

‘Coffee and bagel for me, chai and cheesecake for you,’ she said. ‘Now, they say the Mediterranean is still very hot in August, but if we do decide on the Scandinavian, we’d really have to book now because they’re always very popular – of course, we could always go somewhere more exotic, but then the flight would be longer and when you only have two weeks that could be -’

‘My dear, I hate to burst your bubble,’ Henry said and his heart broke at Catherine’s sinking expression. ‘But we do not only have temporal, but also monetary constraints to take into account, and I’m afraid a cruise would be quite beyond our limits.’

Catherine bit her lower lip and was utterly adorable.

‘I got carried away again, didn’t I?’ she said. ‘I didn’t even mean to ask about cruises, but then when I got there, they had these lovely posters hanging there, and I thought just looking couldn’t hurt -’

‘Are you very much disappointed that it’s probably going to be two weeks on Majorca?’ Henry asked as casually as he could.

Catherine laughed and the wistful expression completely disappeared from her face.

‘The only thing that counts is that it’s our honeymoon,’ she said and took his hand. ‘It could be to Birmingham for all I cared.’

---

Four weeks

Anne mustered her reflection in the mirror.

‘Definitely the veil,’ she said. ‘Don’t you agree?’

Lady Russell jerked her head in Anne’s direction.

‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ she said. ‘You were saying?’

‘I said, definitely the veil,’ Anne repeated. ‘Don’t you agree?’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Lady Russell said. ‘That diadem was outrageously vulgar.’

‘I like the embroidery on the veil,’ Anne said as the shop assistant helped her remove it. ‘It’s so delicate.’

‘Your mother had a veil just like that,’ Lady Russell said. ‘I have a picture of it somewhere, remind me to show it to you.’

‘You already did,’ Anne said. ‘I’ll just pay and then we can go.’

‘Go where?’ Lady Russell asked.

Anne picked up her many bags as Lady Russell slowly extricated herself from her armchair.

‘I said we’d meet Frederick for lunch,’ Anne said. ‘Didn’t I mention that?’

‘Of course,’ Lady Russell said. ‘I forgot.’

Anne followed the shop assistant to the till and handed over her credit card.

‘Isn’t your fiance going to pay for that?’ Lady Russell asked.

Anne had not heard her come near.

‘Of course not,’ she said and turned around. ‘Why would he?’

‘I was just thinking -’ Lady Russell’s voice trailed off.

Anne signed the receipt, pocketed her credit card and wallet again and took her bag.

‘I say,’ Lady Russell continued, ‘have you given any more thought to the other matter?’

‘I have,’ Anne said firmly. ‘And the answer’s still no.’

‘Are you really quite sure?’ Lady Russell asked. ‘It doesn’t mean you have to divorce him, only -’

‘I’m not going to ask him for a prenup,’ Anne said. ‘Have you got everything?’

‘I’m only saying, you never know what might happen,’ Lady Russell went on. ‘In two or three years, you may be very happy to know you made arrangements.’

Anne stopped in her tracks and looked her godmother squarely in the eyes.

‘Has it ever occurred to you that Frederick has much more reason to ask for a prenup than I have?’ she said. ‘After all, I dumped him the first time, plus he’s now richer than I have ever been. I’m not exactly in the same position I was in eight years ago.’

‘He could pay for your dress then,’ Lady Russell huffed.

‘Of course he could,’ Anne said. ‘But I don’t want him to, that’s the whole point.’

Lady Russell huffed again. She did not say anything as they were leaving the boutique and crossing the street.

‘Well, whatever you like,’ she said finally. ‘Where did you say we were meeting your young man?’

‘He’s over there,’ Anne said and pointed to the street corner.

As always when she saw Frederick, her heart skipped a beat. He was coming towards them now, strolling casually, a broad grin on his face that almost took Anne’s breath.

‘Missed you,’ he said and kissed her.

Lady Russell cleared her throat and Frederick greeted her as well. Anne was pleased to note that they at least tried to be civil.

‘Let me take your bags,’ Frederick said, turning to Anne again.

Anne handed him all but the one containing her veil.

‘And what’s in that one?’

Anne grinned.

‘Well, wouldn’t you like to know?’ she said. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

Frederick grinned back at her.

‘27 days, ten hours, fourteen minutes,’ he said. ‘Not that I’m counting.’

---

Six days

Emma took a last look in the mirror and decided she had done all that was needed. She grabbed an elastic from the basket underneath and put her hair in a loose braid while walking over into the bedroom. George was already in bed, sitting with his back against the headboard, concentrating on the heavy tome in his lap.

‘Churchill’s strategies again?’ Emma asked.

She only got a ‘mhm’ in response. With a little smile, she kicked off her slippers and sat down on her side of the bed. She reached for the bottle of lotion and generously rubbed it into her hands. When she put the bottle back on the nightstand, she saw that George had finally looked up from his book.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ George said and looked at his book again.

‘You had this funny look in your face,’ Emma said.

She swung her legs up and let herself fall into the pillows, then dragged at the covers until she had freed enough to snuggle around her. She rolled onto her side and mustered her fiance.

‘What were you thinking of?’

George smiled.

‘Just that this time next week, we’ll be married,’ he said.

‘So we will,’ Emma said. ‘Do you think it will be any different?’

‘Well, we’ll have to put up pictures of you in your dress and me in that suit,’ George said.

Emma boxed him.

‘Be serious,’ she said.

‘In that case, my love,’ George said. ‘I should hope that things will stay very much the same, and that our vows will be a wonderful celebration of our commitment to each other.’

Emma sighed and closed her eyes.

‘What?’

‘I’m so glad you didn’t say we will have to pay fewer taxes,’ she said.

---

Two days

Tom climbed up the stairs for what felt like the hundredth time that day and groaned in disbelief.

‘Don’t tell me that’s yet another one,’ he said.

Fanny looked up from the box she was just sealing shut with tape.

‘I’m sorry, Tom,’ she said. ‘I promise it’s the last.’

‘You said that with the last two of them,’ Tom said.

‘I know!’ Fanny exclaimed. ‘I keep finding more. But you don’t have to carry it if you tired, I’ll do it. It’s not too heavy, I can manage -’

‘No, you aren’t,’ Tom said and took the box before she could do anything about it.

‘Oh, Tom, now I feel bad – I really shouldn’t – I mean, I should have -’

‘What, bought fewer books?’ Tom laughed. ‘It’s okay, Fan, really, it’s no problem. When is that degenerate brother of mine coming?’

‘I’m here,’ a voice behind Tom said.

Tom saw Fanny’s face light up.

‘Edmund!’ she squealed and jumped up from the floor. ‘You’re back!’

‘Dismissed my last class so I could help out,’ Edmund said and shrugged. ‘What have I missed?’

‘Your future wife has far too many books,’ Tom said and set down the box again. ‘You don’t know what you’re getting into.’

Edmund smiled in a sickeningly besotted fashion.

‘Oh, I think I do,’ he said and gave Fanny a peck on the nose. ‘Where’s Susan?’

‘In the bedroom, packing my clothes,’ Fanny said. ‘Really, I can’t thank you all enough for helping me -’

‘Darling, you’re moving your things into my house,’ Edmund said. ‘Our house, I should say. Of course we’re helping you.’

‘Fanny, are you taking the curtains in the bedroom or can I keep them?’ Susan called from the other end of the flat.

‘And I’d say Susan is reaping enough benefits as it is,’ Tom said with a grin.

‘Keep them,’ Fanny called back, ‘Edmund’s curtains are all new, I won’t need them.’

She gave Edmund an equally besotted look.

‘I can’t believe I’m really moving my stuff to your house,’ she said.

‘Our house,’ Edmund corrected her. ‘It’s going to be our house.’

‘I know,’ Fanny said and caressed his cheek.

‘We should get some lunch,’ Tom said hastily.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Fanny said. ‘I’d rather start with the kitchen stuff – I’m leaving all the pots and pans for Susan, but I’m taking the china -’

‘I ate at school,’ Edmund said. ‘I’ll help you.’

‘Susan, do you want to grab some pizza?’ Tom called.

He had a feeling Edmund and Fanny were only too happy to see them go.

---

Twelve hours

Fitzwilliam Darcy was nervous. That much was obvious to anyone who knew him. He had been pacing in his living-room for close to an hour now, always the same route, from the kitchen door past the table and up to the large window, then straight back to the kitchen door.

‘She isn’t going to say no,’ Charles said.

‘I know,’ Darcy muttered, running a hand through his hair.

‘And she isn’t going to make a run for it either,’ Colin said.

‘I know,’ Darcy said, turning on his heel and walking back to the kitchen door.

‘Are you going to say no?’ Charles asked.

‘Or making a run for it?’Colin added.

‘Of course not,’ Darcy cried.

‘Then for the love of God sit down!’ Colin said. ‘Drink something. Anything. Here, have some whisky.’

Darcy took the glass, but set it down on the table almost immediately.

‘I can’t,’ he said.

‘You can,’ Colin said. ‘Or else I will make you.’

He pushed Darcy down onto the sofa and pressed the glass into his hands again.

‘Drink this,’ he said. ‘Now.’

Darcy emptied the glass in one gulp and Charles refilled it immediately.

‘Where is Lizzy, anyway?’ Colin asked. ‘Why can’t she do this?’

‘With her parents,’ Charles explained. ‘Mrs Bennet believes it’s bad luck if they – you know. The night before.’

‘The number of things Mrs Bennet believes are bad luck are astonishing,’ Colin said. ‘Wasn’t that also the reason she had for a summer wedding?’

‘October is bad luck,’ Darcy said, draining the second glass.

‘Not to mention the decorations,’ Charles said.

‘Yellow is bad luck,’ Darcy muttered.

He held out his glass for a refill.

‘One more,’ Colin decided. ‘And then Charles and I will tuck you into your bed.’

‘I really do want to get married, you know,’ Darcy said, taking care to enunciate clearly. ‘ ‘s just nerves.’

---

‘Yellow is bad luck,’ Lizzy giggled. ‘And parish halls. Parish halls are the height of bad luck. So lucky they had an opening in the Meryton’s ball-room, otherwise -’

‘You’d have been doomed from the beginning,’ Charlotte said serenely. ‘More chocolate syrup?’

‘Yes, please.’

Lizzy held out her bowl.

‘And cream,’ she added. ‘Lots of cream.’

‘You’re going to be sick,’ Jane admonished her.

Lizzy shrugged.

‘I’m going to be sick anyway,’ she said. ‘Might as well have some fun before.’

‘You’re – you’re not having doubts, have you?’ Mary asked. ‘Maraschino?’

‘Course I’m not having doubts,’ Lizzy said. ‘It’s just, you know. Big step and all that. Come the morning, I’ll be nauseous as hell.’

She looked around in her old bedroom, revived to its original purpose for one more night, taking it all in. Lydia, curled up in the armchair by the window, already fast asleep and snoring, Kitty sprawled on the floor, playing with the bridal shoes, Charlotte and Mary, decorating the ice-cream with Maraschino cherries, Jane and her sitting on her narrow old bed, all in their pyjamas, hairs up in curlers for the big day tomorrow.

‘I mean, will we ever sit here like this again?’ Lizzy asked.

‘Probably not,’ Mary admitted. ‘But we could be sitting elsewhere.’

‘Things are going to be different,’ Jane said. ‘But that doesn’t mean they can’t be awesome, you know.’

‘I know,’ Lizzy said.

‘Being married is great,’ Jane said. ‘You’ll love it.’

‘I think I will,’ Lizzy said. ‘I really think I will.’