The former Miss Darcy hardly remembered the ceremony, or which guests had spoken with her, or how she had responded to them. Georgiana was lost in a blur of bliss and exhilaration. Whenever her handsome, raven-haired husband looked at her, she blushed at the feelings he provoked. Georgiana knew their marriage would be one of mutual love, tenderness, respect, and passion.

It had been a heart-warming wedding ceremony, charged with emotion; and many of the ladies, not to mention a few weepy gentlemen, needed their handkerchiefs before the service was finished. Tears of happiness were still being wiped away during the celebration that followed, and even the pretty wedding cake was in tiers. 

Lady Catherine de Bourgh blissfully sat alone at a table near the balcony and watched the world go by. After the hawk and hat debacle, Charles Bingley had been thoughtful enough to inquire whether she required a dose of her special sherry; and the medicated woman was pleased Anne’s suitor was so excessively attentive to her needs. Why, here is my dear Mr. Bing now with a piece of fruitcake for me. So sweet, full-bodied, spicy, rich, spirited, delicious, and sinfully tempting. She began to cackle hysterically when she could not recollect whether she was, in reality, describing the man or the wedding cake. 

After his delivery to Lady Catherine, Charles Bingley fetched two more plates of cake and passed one to Miss de Bourgh as he sat down across from her at a small table near the balustrade. The ceremony had filled the lovesick fellow with hope and enthusiasm for his own future happiness, yet he was concerned about Anne’s unusual quietude since they left the chapel. He eagerly watched as she daintily lifted her fork and tasted the fruitcake. 

Anne Catriona de Bourgh, who had witnessed the three marriages alongside Mr. Bingley, was pleased to have performed that honour for her relatives and friends. However, she longed for her own special day. Yes, a beautiful dress, a new pair of shoes, a golden ring, and a Charles Bingley would set me up forever. She noticed her mother was already going back for a second serving of fruitcake and that her beau was staring. “Mr. Bingley, why do you scrutinize me so? Do I have bird droppings on my shoulder, unsightly nasal hair, or something stuck in my teeth?” 

“Anne, you are so elegantly eloquent and classy. I was merely wondering whether you like the fruitcake, for I believe your slice contains a very special ingredient.” 

Miss de Bourgh scoffed and took another forkful. Bingley’s blue eyes grew even wider than usual, and he feared his scheme had been an ill-conceived one. “Ah, perhaps you should not … ingest that particular … No! Anne, do not eat that piece!” 

“OW!! What in blazing … blazes is in this blasted cake?” She daintily spit a mouthful of fruitcake into her handkerchief and extracted a shiny piece of metal. “This is an outrage! How in Hades did … ? Oh! This obviously does not belong to the baker. It is far too valuable.” She turned the unexpected object to and fro in the sunlight. “Is this actually an emerald? How extraordinary! But I could very well have broken a tooth. Heads shall undoubtedly roll over this!” 

At her initial exclamation Bingley had risen and hovered by her side. He worriedly wrung his hands as he stuttered, “Miss de Bourgh, I am so, so sorry. I … I thought you would notice it before … I n-never intended for you to … Are you injured?” 

“Stop fussing. I am fine. But … You are responsible for this? This is the special ingredient?” 

Bingley glanced sheepishly at her as he sat back down and said, “My father gave it to my mother when he proposed. She always referred to it as her engagement ring … ” 

“Well, I just about en-gagged on it, sir. Why on earth would you do something so bizarre? You, Mr. Charles Bungley, are as nutty as this fruitcake and twice as crumby.” 

“Please forgive me. It was a cork-brained plan.” He reached across the table for the ring, but Miss de Bourgh quickly snatched it away from his grasp. 

“Wait. You say this was an engagement ring?” 

Bingley rubbed his hands up and down his flushed face a couple of times before he loudly exhaled and softly replied, “Yes, and I was hoping it could again serve the same purpose; so I planted it in your slice of wedding cake. It was, indeed, a very crumby idea; and I am certifiably a nut.” The abashed young man attempted another grab at the emerald-encrusted band. 

“Not so hasty, if you please, Mr. Bingley.” Anne held the sparkling ring away from his reach. “Let me rightly understand this. You deliberately implanted a so-called engagement ring into my particular slice of wedding cake because …?” 

Bingley coloured up again and blurted, “Because I am in love with you and want us to spend the rest of our lives together.” He calmed and spoke softly once more. “Could we not have our own wedding cake, Annie? Will you please enrich my life by becoming my wife?” 

“Oh, Charlie Bing!” She flung herself across the table and her arms around him. “Yes, yes, yes! I would very much love to be your strife … I mean your wife.” 

Bingley placed gentle kisses upon her forehead and finally the ring upon her finger. “Thank you, Annie. I expect you will, indeed, do an exemplary job of being both my wife and an endless cause of strife for the rest of my life.”

Bingley’s sister, Caroline Wickham, had suffered through the indignities of the hounds from hell in church and pigeon poop on her tangerine turban with, in her opinion, considerable aplomb. She could not, however, keep at bay her feelings of resentment, envy, and regret when she compared her own simple wedding to the finery on display that day at Pemberley. Her husband, George Wickham, also experienced feelings of resentment, envy, and regret as he leered at the three fine-looking brides. Darce, Fitz, and Fleming have found women who are more than tolerable and certainly handsome enough to tempt me. He glanced at his tolerable wife and was tempted to drown his sorrows in the handsome glasses of liquid refreshment slighted by other men. 

His father, Hugh Wickham, watched George ogle his friends’ brides and felt shame and regret over his daughter-in-law’s situation. He planned many lengthy talks with the lad before handing the stewardship reins over to George in the New Year and would impress upon him the importance of keeping strictly to the straight and narrow. For his own part, Hugh Wickham felt justifiably proud of the jobs he had done for the Darcy family in his service to them over the years, the building of the chapel, and even his performance on the small pipe organ that day. He planned to stay in tune with the goings-on at Pemberley after his retirement.