Without Vanity or Pride: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Duology

Chapter 10

From her very first sight of it, Pemberley delighted Elizabeth. She tried not to gasp but failed, and her father, seated across from her in the carriage, looked up from his newspaper and frowned.

She shook her head at him. “Surely, after all these weeks you cannot still believe I am only interested in Mr Darcy’s wealth?”

Mr Bennet folded the newspaper and set it to his side. “I shall grant you that the Mr Darcy we saw this summer in Hertfordshire is a far different fellow than the man we met last autumn.”

“And now that you are in full understanding of what happened to him just before coming to Netherfield, do you not understand why he might have been in dampened spirits?”

“You refer to the matter of his sister?” Mr Bennet asked. On Elizabeth’s nod, he continued. “Yes, that is true, but my girl, you must know that Mr Darcy will never be of the disposition that overflows in mirth.”

“Perhaps not but I do think the right wife will enliven him.”

“He will never be at ease amongst those he considers inferior to him.”

“He is not much at ease with anyone,” Elizabeth replied. “His idea of good company is a few close friends and a quiet evening.”

“And your philosophy is that one can never have too large a party.”

“A difference, that is true, but if everyone married someone exactly like themselves, how dull their lives would be!”

“In other words, you are determined to have him,” Mr Bennet said, peering at her over the top of his spectacles.

She had not before thought of it in such definite terms. Yes, the understanding that she had been falling in love with him had been creeping up upon her since that fateful day in Hyde Park. In the time since, she had come to understand that in their talents and dispositions, they exactly suited one another more than she ever could have imagined.

But love could not be reduced to such terms as that. Love was not some balance-sheet of debits and credits, whereupon the advantages of one were weighed against the disadvantages of the other. Love was the fact that she wished, above all things, to be with Mr Darcy always. Love was feeling completed in him, knowing she could be her best self with him, and he his best self with her.

She did not need to confide that much to her father, however, certainly not when she had never even confessed her feelings to Mr Darcy himself. So, in answer she said merely, “Yes, Papa, in fact, I am determined to have him.”

Mr Bennet smiled blandly and looked out the window. They had just drawn up to the portico of the grand limestone edifice. “Well, we had better go in then.”

A large party was on hand to receive the two travellers from Hertfordshire. Jane and the Gardiners had arrived at Pemberley earlier in the day. Lord Saye was there with one of his friends, a Sir Frederick Moore, who seemed already to have fallen under Jane’s spell—and she under his. Elizabeth resolved to ask about that later. Miss Darcy was a nervous but determined hostess, and Elizabeth congratulated her on an excellent job seeing to all of their comforts.

Only one person did not seem light-hearted and gay, and that was Darcy himself. His smile was a trifle forced, and his complexion was pale. Elizabeth worried about him as the group sat and partook of a hearty array of meats, breads, and fruit in Pemberley’s largest drawing room, all the while regaling one another with tales of their travels.

“Jane,” she whispered to her sister as she came near. When Jane looked over, Elizabeth mouthed, “Sir Frederick?”

Jane came closer. “You will recall that day when we ate ices at Gunter’s?”

The timing of her explanation was unfortunate, as Lord Saye had only just come to take a some fruit from the table behind them and chose to join their conversation.

“You know—the same day that Darcy went tearing through the square like a great galloping gollompus and terrified all the children.” He laughed heartily at his own joke and strolled away.

Darcy, seated on a sofa nearby with Mr Gardiner only rolled his eyes at the insult and picked at something on his plate.

Elizabeth turned back to her sister. “I remember. You met him then? Was it after I walked off?”

“We had noticed one another beforehand,” Jane said, furiously blushing. “But then, we were stopped on the other side of the square, and he was as well, and we spoke a little bit. I am sure it is all nothing, but he is a very kind gentleman.”

He looked kind, though not exceedingly handsome—short and seemed to be balding or about to—but decidedly good-humoured. Who knew what, if anything, would come of it, but Elizabeth was glad to see her sister enjoying the first blush of romance.

Darcy rose then and came to kneel beside her. “When you have rested, would you like to take a walk?”

“Very much,” she said with a smile. “And I do not need to rest. Stretching my legs will do me much better, I think.”

It was not long before they were strolling amongst beautiful blossoms on one of Pemberley’s pretty paths. Everything about Pemberley is exquisite, Elizabeth thought. Elegance without ostentation or artifice

“Do you remember,” he began, “that night in the parsonage?”

“The night you proposed?”

Darcy grimaced. “In a manner of speaking. I suppose I should hope you do not remember it.”

She laughed but knew not how else to reply.

“That night, I begged you to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife. I must confess though at that time—” He shook his head. “At that time, I had no notion of real suffering. Real suffering was your refusal. Real suffering was reconciliation without knowing what might await us. Real suffering was falling more deeply in love with you than I had ever imagined possible and then being forced to be apart.”

She squeezed his arm gently. “It has only been a fortnight, though I confess it has felt much longer to me too.”

“Only a fortnight—yet, I have been the most wretched creature I could ever imagine! Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth! What you have done to me, I shall never know, but all I do know is that my house no longer feels like a home without you in it. Pemberley is desperate for you…I am desperate for you. You belong with me, Elizabeth. I have never been more certain of that than I am now,” he said in a rush.

She looked up at him. “As am I.”

He seemed as if he had been prepared to say more, but her words stopped him. He exhaled, his dark gaze never leaving her countenance. “You are what?”

“Certain that…I belong with you.” Suddenly shy, she dropped her gaze, but he would not have it. Reaching for her chin with one finger, he tenderly moved it back to him.

“Of all the things I said to you that night in Hunsford parsonage,” he said taking her hands in his own, “there is only one other thing that bears repeating, and that is that I ardently admire and love you. It is my dearest wish that you would marry me.”

“I would be very honoured, sir,” she said softly.

He brought her hands to his lips for a soft kiss, saying in a whisper, “You are too good for me, and I intend to spend the rest of my days seeking to be worthy of you.”

She had no idea what to say, but in the end, it did not signify—for her lips were soon more agreeably engaged.

The End