Chapter 28
Earlier that day
Elizabeth could not seem to settle. She spent the afternoon picking up her book and setting it down again, restlessly moving from the drawing room to her bedchamber and from her bedchamber to the second parlour. She dreaded the coming evening and the Meryton assembly, and yet it could not come quickly enough.
If nothing else, she might at least hope to see herself vindicated in the eyes of her neighbours. There was little chance of any greater satisfaction. That Mr Darcy was leaving Meryton had been reported by too many reliable sources. Mrs Long had taken great pride in knowing it, and had hoped to outdo Mrs Bennet, but in this she had been disappointed, for they had already learned of it through a groom at Netherfield stables, who told Cook. There had been much activity around the packing of Mr Darcy’s trunks, and the preparations for the carriage.
Elizabeth had nearly pleaded a headache and stayed home from the event. She hardly knew whether it would be worse to have Mr Darcy present or absent. To see him would be painful, too painful. But not to see him one last time before a separation of uncertain length, knowing that he might be married when she saw him next — it was impossible.
When she had heard that Mr Darcy would not be in attendance, Elizabeth could take cold comfort in learning which was greater, her hopes or her fears. Her heart was sick with a bitter longing. Just when she knew she loved Mr Darcy, everything was over between them forever. There would be no wedding, and she wondered if she would ever find a man with whom she could share the same kindred belonging she had felt in his company.
Having given up all hope and all dread of meeting him, Elizabeth nearly fell over from shock upon seeing Mr Darcy enter the assembly rooms with Mr Bingley and his relations. Miss Bingley looked like she had been brought down several pegs since the first night of her introduction to Meryton society. How much had changed since that night! Elizabeth blushed to remember how confident she had been in her assessments of the party. In Miss Bingley, perhaps, she had not greatly erred, but Elizabeth could not look back on how unfairly she had judged Mr Darcy without abhorrence. She had seen his assurance and taken it for arrogance; she had judged him for his reticence and a few ill-spoken words and overlooked a sense of honour and responsibility that could only inspire admiration.
Elizabeth would have liked to tell him so, just once. He ought to know how very greatly he was esteemed. But as that could only have humiliated them both, she held her tongue.
Never had an assembly seemed to go so slowly. Elizabeth could not stop herself from finding fault with everything — the musicians tuneless, the partners few, and the conversations dull. Mr Darcy was there, their eyes met, and yet he would not speak to her. As a rebuke, it must be clear enough.
Yet if there had not been a secret weight on her heart, Elizabeth might have found the assembly highly rewarding. Suddenly, she seemed to have gone from a near-pariah in Meryton to an honoured neighbour and fully vindicated friend.
Sir Lucas was first among those who offered her mingled congratulations and apologies. “Well, Miss Elizabeth, what a relief it is to have all that business over with! And to think what Mr Wickham might have told the French, if Mr Darcy had not stopped him! It does not bear thinking of.”
“No, indeed, Sir Lucas,” Elizabeth agreed pleasantly, and declined to point out that she herself might have been said to have done more in accomplishing the apprehension of Mr Wickham. After all, it was she who first suspected him. “Mr Wickham is a scoundrel. His behaviour hardly bears description.”
“Indeed not! Well, you must excuse me, Miss Elizabeth, for I ought to congratulate Mr Darcy, the hero of the hour! Did you know he is to leave soon? Now that the engagement is dissolved, perhaps you have not heard as much of his plans.”
“I thank you, Sir Lucas, I was aware of his going.”
“Capital, capital!” Sir Lucas exclaimed, and with that, he was off.
Elizabeth could not help watching the encounter from across the room. Her curiosity was simply too great. To judge by his expression, Mr Darcy was as nonplussed by Sir Lucas’s enthusiasm as she was.
And so it went with all their neighbours. Elizabeth had not realised that in clearing her name, she would have turned herself into a kind of local hero, but so it seemed to go. Of course, that was largely because of Mr Wickham’s treachery, for everyone liked to hear of a traitor being thwarted in his treasonous intentions. At least everyone seemed firmly convinced of her innocence. Whatever it had cost her in hours of confusion and heartache, at least the name of Bennet was safe once more.
Yet all that was nothing if Mr Darcy would not speak to her. To ask her to dance might have been too much to expect. After all, she well knew he did not much care for dancing. But surely it would not have been too much to expect for him to speak to her one last time.
Ought she to speak to him? Elizabeth considered the question uneasily. Was it love or respect that made her think she ought to, and was it cowardice or propriety that made her think it better left undone?
At last, Elizabeth decided she would keep her distance. If she said anything at all, she was very much afraid that she would say too much.
Upon arriving home late from the assembly, she went straight to her room, changed into her nightgown, and climbed under the coverlet. Deliberately, she closed her eyes, wishing that she might simply stop thinking for a time.
But the thoughts would not stay away.
He did not want her. If he had, he would have come to her at the assembly, would have asked her to dance. Instead, he had only looked at her in silence. Surely it would be folly to think there was anything in those looks that mirrored her own longing.
Jane slipped between the covers about a half hour after Elizabeth had gone to bed. She had kept the candle burning, propping up the blankets so she could see her face — just as they had done when they were children. “Are you well, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth wrestled with whether to tell her the truth or keep her feelings to herself. It ought to be an evening of triumph for Jane. Nothing should ruin that. “I am glad you and Mr Bingley could celebrate your engagement with so many friends and well-wishers.”
Jane watched her for several seconds, giving her a tender, understanding smile. “That is not what I asked.”
Elizabeth lowered her voice, wrapping her arms around her waist as if the gesture could stop her from drifting away. “I may not be well at this moment, but I will be.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. “I must confess, seeing Mr Darcy at the assembly was difficult. But I suppose now we know we can meet as common and indifferent acquaintances.”
Jane raised a brow. “I think you are in danger of making him fall as madly in love with you as ever.”
Her sister’s bold delivery caught her off-guard just as much as the contents of the statement. Jane rarely voiced her real thoughts and opinions. “Oh?” Elizabeth asked, hating the tremble in her voice. How was it even worse to feel a spark of hope than to think that all hope was lost?
“You cannot think he doesn’t care for you. Surely you did not miss the look on his face when he saw you this evening. He is in just as much misery as you are.”
“It is too painful to hope,” Elizabeth said raggedly. “I do not think that can be. Why would he not speak to me then — why has he not come to see me? Please, Jane, do not mention him again. I cannot bear it — ” With an effort, Elizabeth regained her control. “Dear Jane, I do not think I can say any more about it. I have made an utter mess of everything.”
“No,” Jane said with surprising firmness. “How can you say so? You have found out the truth, Lizzy, and you stopped Mr Wickham from hurting more people. It must be painful to be congratulated when your heart is breaking — I can see that it is. But do not think that you didn’t do the right thing, simply because it is painful.”
For a moment, Elizabeth could hardly breathe. Jane’s words seemed to ring through her, clearing away all her confusion, if not her grief. Elizabeth had always known that her sister’s integrity was beyond question, that her heart was kindness itself, but to have such a proof of her wisdom was stunning.
Jane’s clear-sightedness deserved a return. “Thank you,” Elizabeth said at last. “I believe I had somewhat lost sight of that. Whatever comes of it, we did the right thing. I did the right thing. And I would rather lose Mr Darcy with the truth than keep him with a lie.”
“I know,” Jane said softly, “and I love you.”
Elizabeth hardly knew whether the sound she made then was a chuckle, or a sob. “I love you, too.”
With that, Jane nodded and blew out the candle. It was not long before her breathing evened out into sleep. Elizabeth stared into the shadowy corners of the room. Jane had given her something precious — a kind of acceptance, and a degree of peace. And if that could not undo the pain in her heart, if Elizabeth still cried silent tears before she at last went to sleep, it was at least something.
The morning dawned cool and grey. Even having gained a little solace, Elizabeth could not bring herself to join the rest of the family for breakfast. “Tell them I did not sleep very well. Mama will understand,” she told Jane when she was ready to go down. “I will stay here and read a little.
Jane gave her an understanding look. “Of course, Lizzy.”
Unhurriedly, Elizabeth rose and put on her dressing gown. She was at the point of settling into her favourite spot at the window seat and opening her book when Lydia burst through the door without even so much as a knock. “Lizzy! Wake up!”
Elizabeth sat up straight, slightly annoyed that her sister had barged in on her moment of solitude. “I am awake.”
“Get dressed! Get ready this instant!” Lydia exclaimed, breathless from running up the stairs. She started rummaging through the dresses hanging on the screen and chose a dark green one that looked particularly pleasing with Elizabeth’s complexion. “This one.” She tossed it at Elizabeth, who only looked at her in puzzlement, unmoving.
“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked. “I told Jane to alert the family that I would not be down to breakfast.”
“Mr Darcy is here to see you!” Lydia burst forth. “You cannot refuse him. He is your fiancé!”
“Former fiancé. We are not engaged anymore,” Elizabeth corrected. Even so, her heart began to beat wildly at the thought of Mr Darcy being so near. She stood up and put her book aside, pacing in front of the mirror. “Why has he come?”
“He did not say. But he has come to call, and so early, too! Is that not enough?” Lydia bustled around the room, much as their mother was prone to do. “Hurry! You do not want to keep him waiting, do you?”
Elizabeth stood frozen in indecision for a moment. Had he come to say goodbye to the family? She could think of no other reason he would be there so early in the day. Perhaps he had simply stopped on his way out of town? But no, Netherfield was directly on the high road. Longbourn was quite out of the way, if he had wanted to take the quickest path. Elizabeth snatched up the dress that she had left on the window seat and went behind the curtain, her feet carrying her where her heart longed to go. She must see him, if only this one last time.
“Fix your hair. I shall tell Mama that you will come down directly,” Lydia said after she had helped Elizabeth climb into her stays and gown. Elizabeth nodded, sitting down at the vanity to do something with her hair. Since time was of the essence, she made a simple bun at the nape of her neck. She looked in the glass, painfully aware of the shadows under her eyes, testament to her sleepless night. But it would have to do. Elizabeth took a deep breath, staring at her reflection. Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. Did he still think so? And was she wrong to believe that he had come to see so much more in her over the course of their ill-fated engagement?
Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked downstairs, taking them two at a time at first, then slowing as she came to the last few steps. She heard voices travelling from the parlour. Elizabeth smoothed down her day dress and headed toward the drawing room, growing more nervous with every step.
When she entered the drawing room, everyone fell silent for moment. Her mother jumped up from her seat and joined her at the door. “Look, Lizzy, who has come to see us. Mr Darcy, you are so kind to think of us.”
Mr Darcy rose, and for a moment, she wondered if she would remember to breathe. They exchanged bows, and Elizabeth felt a shock run through her as their eyes met. She was reminded of the night before, when he had left the company for a few minutes to stroll outside with Lady Lucas in the moonlight. How she had longed to be the one on his arm!
“How do you do, Mr Darcy?” she asked softly.
“I am well,” he replied. “And you, Miss Elizabeth?”
Her throat went dry at the sound of her name on his lips. “Yes, I am well,” she replied, not knowing what else to say. Certainly the truth was impossible. It was a joy and a torment, being in the same room with him. So close, and yet so far away.
“Mrs Bennet,” Mr Darcy said, his voice quiet but determined. “May I have the privilege of speaking with Miss Elizabeth?” She held her breath. “In private?”
Mrs Bennet stepped forward, bustling about to herd the rest of the girls out of the room. “By all means, Mr Darcy! Girls, to the second parlour with you. Shoo!” she whispered. She turned and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. “Besides you, my dear, of course.” She turned back around and curtsied to Mr Darcy. “We are so glad to have you back under our humble roof, Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth hardly knew what to feel, let alone what to think. There was usually only one reason a gentleman asked a lady to speak in private. Yet she dared not let her hopes rise. She did not think she could bear to have them dashed.
Mrs Bennet, at least, had no doubt of his intentions. Her behaviour had made that quite clear. Her mother had been crestfallen since the news that Mr Darcy and she had broken the engagement. Now, it might seem as if she were getting her wish that their understanding be reinstated. Or at least, that is how her mother had treated Mr Darcy. Elizabeth was glad that her mother had not voiced any of her earlier opinions of the gentleman, when she had thought he had gone back on his word. The tongue-lashing had been severe and painful for Elizabeth to hear.
“Mr Darcy?” she asked, forcing herself to return to the present. “I thought you were leaving Meryton today.”
He swallowed, an awkward silence stretching between them. Then he started to close the distance between them, each step closer making her heart skip a beat. He held his hat in his hands, twisting the brim round and round. “I had planned to leave, yes.”
“But?” Elizabeth asked expectantly.
“But I could not go. After seeing you last night at the assembly, I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I left without telling you how I truly feel.”
Elizabeth’s head swam. That, surely, could mean only one thing. She placed a hand on the settee to steady herself, feeling as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff. A wonderful, beautiful, awe-inspiring cliff. If she stepped off into the unknown, where love was often a mystery, there would be no turning back. “And how is that?” she asked, barely above a whisper for the air that seemed denied to her by her traitorous lungs.
Mr Darcy set his hat aside and stepped closer until they were only inches apart. “I have wrestled long and hard with this, Miss Elizabeth. I know that when we first met, there was no end to the misunderstandings between us. However, I hope that I have been clear about my intentions. I never would have broken our engagement if I had not felt that you wished it. Yet I do not mean to importune you. Indeed, one word from you will send me away this instant, and you will never have to see me again.”
He paused, but Elizabeth said nothing, only looking deeply into his piercing green eyes. He took a deep breath and went on. “If your feelings have changed, as I once suspected they had, I would tell you that you have bewitched me, body and soul. I have come to not only respect and cherish your friendship, but to love you. More than you can know,” he murmured. “When I saw you at the assembly last night, I knew I could not leave — not without trying to win your affections. I had intended to keep silent, thinking that you were relieved to be released from our engagement. But I thought I saw in your eyes the same regret I felt so deeply at being separated from you.”
Elizabeth could hardly contain her relief. He took her hand, making her heart race all the more. “You did. Oh, Mr Darcy, indeed you were not wrong. Please, go on.”
He hung his head, studying their intertwined fingers for a moment. Then he knelt and looked up at her expectantly. “Elizabeth, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
In her relief and joy, Elizabeth could hardly stop herself from crying out. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to keep the sobs at bay. He waited patiently, grasping her hand. “Yes. Yes, I will,” she whispered. When he rose, she went into his arms hesitantly, not wanting to be forward, but then readily as she saw the joy and approval in his eyes. “I am sorry I was so dense, so unyielding before. I had formed an opinion of you based on my hurt feelings. But I have come to see that you are a man unlike any other I have ever known.” She looked up at him, wishing she could express all she felt. Her mind seemed to be racing too fast for the words to form. He traced a finger down her cheeks and she closed her eyes, relishing the intimate gesture. “I was such a fool. Once I thought rather well of Mr Wickham, only to find him an unprincipled scoundrel who would have ruined me without a qualm, and a traitor to boot. I am beholden to you for the way you handled the compromise.”
“No,” Mr Darcy murmured. “I could not have done otherwise. And even then, before I truly knew what you are to me, I did not view the engagement with any dislike. I believe it was rather an excuse to do what I already desired, but had not yet found the wisdom to act on.”
Elizabeth laughed a little shakily. “In that case, I suppose I owe Mr Wickham a debt of gratitude. If he had not devised the scandal between us, I might have continued in my misapprehensions of your character. And Mr Wickham’s, too. Perhaps I would never have seen him for what he truly is.”
He shook his head. “I think not. You would have seen through him sooner or later. And as to any misunderstanding of myself, surely I was equally to blame. I shall never forgive myself for how rudely I spoke of you on the first night of our acquaintance. You would be entirely justified in resenting it.”
“No, I think not. In the end, it was only stubborn pride. I allowed my resentment of an insult hardly even deserving the name to come between us, to stop me from seeing your true worth,” Elizabeth said. She looked up at him, resting her hands on his chest. “I will never make that mistake again.” She took a sharp breath, then met his gaze without wavering. “I love you, too. But there is one more thing we must speak of — the night you walked out of my father’s study when we had successfully exposed Mr Wickham.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Is there not one more misunderstanding to be resolved? I think I understood it only too late. Let me tell you here and now that I was not relieved to be free to end our engagement. I was relieved that Mr Wickham had been caught, and that he could not hurt anyone anymore.”
Mr Darcy nodded. “I know that now. I am sorry I walked out that night without taking the time to understand your heart, but I was so heartbroken. And I would never have it said that I pressed my attentions on anyone.”
“No one who truly knew you would think that,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “You are a man of honour and character. I could not think of any other man with whom I should wish to spend my life.”
“Elizabeth — ” he whispered, leaning closer. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. At the last moment, he stopped, his lips hovering just before touching hers. “Elizabeth, we are engaged, are we not? You have agreed to be my wife?”
“With all my heart,” she breathed.
“Then — I should very much like to kiss you.”
“Please,” Elizabeth whispered, and in the next moment, his lips met hers, his arms tightening about her body. After a long moment, he pulled away, looking deeply into her eyes. A wave of feelings crested over her, leaving her shaken, feeling at once confused and overcome with delight.
“Elizabeth, my love, you are exquisite,” Mr Darcy whispered. She could not account for what she heard in his tone. There was love there, and she delighted to hear it, but it was coupled to something that sounded very much like awe. “Your glorious eyes — I believe it was these dark, sparkling eyes that first enchanted me.” He trailed light kisses over her jaw, her neck. Elizabeth’s eyes widened. It was the first glimpse of what might be between a man and wife — something rather more than a simple meeting of lips.
With a rather regretful smile, Mr Darcy stepped away. He kept his hand on her shoulder, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful. She rather thought she might have fallen down without that stabilising touch.
“That must be all, until we are wed,” Mr Darcy said. “Though perhaps, given sufficient time and privacy, you might allow me another such kiss.”
Elizabeth’s heart hammered in her chest. “I should like that. Very much,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. With an effort, she composed herself. “Shall we announce the good news to my family?” she asked.
“Yes. Well, yes, I suppose there is only one formality left to dispose of. I shall have to ask your father’s permission again.” They shared a laugh, but she saw no reason to stand upon ceremony. She went to the door and called her family back in, asking for someone to go for her father this time. When everyone was assembled, she and Mr Darcy faced them and he told them the news.
“I have asked Miss Elizabeth if she would be my wife, once again, and with your permission, sir, she has accepted.”
The drawing room erupted with congratulations. Elizabeth’s father was the first to join them and extended his hand for Mr Darcy to shake on it. “I heartily give my consent, even more readily than I did before.”
“Oh, I thought it would never happen!” her mother exclaimed. “I thought all was lost after she let you get away the last time.” Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes at her mother’s antics, but Mr Darcy only smiled patiently. “There is no need to delay, is there? You must marry at once!”
“Do not fret, Mama. I shall never let him go,” Elizabeth said.
He beamed at her, offering her his arm, which she gladly accepted. “Only this time, no one will have to feel that they are forcing the other into an unwanted marriage.”
“No, indeed,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “It is true love that joins us, for all it may have started in a compromise.”
“And what a fortunate compromise it was!” Lydia said with a giggle.
Everyone joined in with her laughter. Elizabeth and Mr Darcy turned to face each other as everyone else began discussing the upcoming weddings. Without bothering to inquire into the opinions of the parties most concerned, Mrs Bennet and Lydia began discussing how lovely it would be for Elizabeth and Jane to be married on the same day, and had rapidly moved on to whether Mr Bingley ought to purchase a special license.
Elizabeth could not bring herself to attend to them. She was simply glad to have her love standing there with her, never to be parted from him again. She smiled up at her betrothed. “Yes, it was a fortunate compromise, indeed.”
With that, Mr Darcy cupped her cheek, and leaned in close. Elizabeth closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his lips against hers.