Chapter XIII
Fitzwilliam’s chortling had not yet gotten on Darcy’s nerves, but if his cousin kept it up much longer, it might.
He should have known Fitzwilliam would come to Meryton, if only to take satisfaction in the knowledge that Wickham had paid for his misdeeds.
Fitzwilliam had been urging him to do something about Wickham for as long as he could remember—of course, he would wish to say something on the subject.
“Well, that was efficiency the likes of which my general could only dream of,” said Fitzwilliam, wiping tears away from his eyes.
“I should like to have seen Wickham’s face when he learned that Miss Elizabeth had affected his downfall.
Given the number of women he has used over the years, it is no less than poetic justice. ”
“Though it may have been amusing had I not been so close to the situation,” allowed Darcy, “in that moment I will own that mirth was the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Tell me, Darcy—how does it feel to know that a mere slip of a girl acted with such decisive courage when you have dithered these past fifteen years at least?”
“Oh, Cousin,” scolded Georgiana, though Darcy noted she was grinning at them, “you should not be so hard on my brother.”
“Why ever not?” said Fitzwilliam, and Darcy thought it was only partially in jest. “Does he not deserve it? I have been telling him to do something about Wickham for years. Even a good beating when he was a boy might have prevented Wickham from coming to this end.”
“Perhaps that is true, or perhaps he might have become better at hiding his true character from me.”
Fitzwilliam eyed him and allowed it to be so. “Yes, that is as likely as not. Still, Darcy, Miss Bennet acted where you did not. I must attribute some strength of mind to her, and far more courage than most men under my command.”
“That is beyond dispute,” agreed Darcy. “Her approach was perfectly judged—she acted in a way that was effective, yet one that she, as a woman, could undertake and not open herself to danger.”
“Tell me, Darcy, what you mean to do about Miss Bennet?”
“What do you mean?” asked Darcy, keeping his tone deliberately bland as the safest option.
“Do not attempt obfuscation, Darcy,” said his cousin. “Many a time I thought you admired her in Kent, but you made no move to make your sentiments known to her.” Fitzwilliam snorted with amusement. “Then again, I suppose you could hardly make love to her with the dragon watching your every move.”
“If you will forgive me,” replied Darcy, “I think that I shall keep my plans to myself.”
“Hmm . . .” said Fitzwilliam in a posture of deep thought. “If you are too blind to see her worth, perhaps I should try my hand.”
Darcy was not at all concerned about his cousin’s teasing. “Remember that she possesses little. You have always spoken of your need to marry with some attention to wealth—she cannot give you even a fraction of what you require.”
“For a woman like Miss Bennet, I may be content with much less.”
“That is enough, Anthony,” said Georgiana, a stern glare fixed on him. “You will not tease William. Besides, I want to have Elizabeth as a sister, not a cousin.”
“Oh ho!” exclaimed Fitzwilliam. “It seems our dear Georgiana has developed a measure of fire. Perhaps it is the company she is keeping.”
“It is,” replied Georgiana, her glare never lessening an inch. “And you had best remember it!”
The rumble of Fitzwilliam’s laughter filled the room.
LONGBOURN’S SITTING-room was alive with motion and laughter as the family celebrated a most auspicious event.
Jane and Mr. Bingley, the central players in the business, stood together, Mr. Bingley with a great beaming smile, though he appeared a little dazed, while Jane was only radiant.
Mrs. Bennet was, surprising no one, in the thick of the congratulations, her piercing voice rising over them all.
“Oh, I knew how it must be! I knew you could not resist her, Mr. Bingley! She is the most beautiful girl alive!”
“With that, there can be no disagreement,” said Mr. Bingley. “My opinion is aligned with yours in every particular, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Of course, it must be!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Then a shadow fell over her face. “Now, if only . . .”
The glance at Mr. Darcy was reflexive. Elizabeth might not have bothered to wonder if he would take offense—Mr. Darcy had shown no sign of it since his return, though Elizabeth had caught pained, exasperated, or bewildered expressions at various times.
It appeared that Mr. Darcy was made of sterner stuff than she had ever thought—he would not allow Mrs. Bennet’s ways to drive him away.
“There is no need to concern yourself, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley. “My friend is not in the habit of allowing what he wants to slip through his fingers, and it is clear that high on his list is your daughter!”
The company laughed as one at his quip. A glance at Mr. Darcy revealed that the gentleman was glaring at his friend, but Elizabeth did not think he was displeased.
“That is a faithful portrayal of my brother, indeed!” exclaimed Georgiana.
“Perhaps you should worry about Elizabeth rather than my brother,” Georgiana continued, too innocent to be believed. “He is willing—I am not so certain about her.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes found Elizabeth, censure in their depths, but Elizabeth only turned a glare on Georgiana.
The girl, clearly unrepentant, grinned at Elizabeth, then turned back to Kitty and Lydia.
Nearby, the girls’ new companion, Mrs. Grant, kept a close eye on them, interjecting with an occasional comment or a pointed look when they overstepped.
“Perhaps you should allow your mother to do as she will,” commented Mr. Bennet, though in a low enough tone that only Elizabeth overheard. “If you do, you shall be married and wealthy, and your mother will have her long-sought-after security.”
“I beg your pardon, Papa,” said Elizabeth a little primly, “but you acted to support my independence when Mama wished to take it away. I shall not relinquish it now.”
“Of course, you will not,” murmured Mr. Bennet. Louder he said: “It is curious, however, that Mr. Bingley’s family has yet to appear.”
“I believe, Papa, that is by Mr. Bingley’s decree rather than any wish to stay away on their part.”
“Unsurprising,” said her father. “Miss Bingley is of a disposition that would not remain silent while her brother flouted her wishes.”
“I shall not say you are incorrect,” replied Elizabeth. “In this instance, Mr. Darcy tells me that he has acted more from concern for Mr. Darcy’s comfort than his own.”
This time, her father did not refrain from chuckling. “I cannot suppose that she would care at all for her brother’s prospects when confronted with the loss of her own ambitions.”
“You understand her well, Papa,” replied Elizabeth.
“It was not difficult. Anyone who cannot see her as mercenary is not looking.”
“Yes, I saw it myself.” Elizabeth shook her head. “The far greater concern in my mind is Mr. Darcy’s aunt.”
“Ah, yes, the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” Mirth danced in Mr. Bennet’s eyes. “Has he heard anything further from her? Perhaps we should have warned Sir William against speculating about Darcy’s intentions.”
“Not that he has informed me,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy’s injunction against contacting me seems to have held, but Mr. Darcy worries she will journey here to make her sentiments known.”
“Perhaps his warnings have helped,” said Mr. Bennet. “But only after she sent you that one infamous missive.”
“It did not concern me,” said Elizabeth. “I spent six weeks in Lady Catherine’s company—I knew of what she was capable.”
“Have you had another letter from Mrs. Collins?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Even Mr. Collins understood the silliness of Lady Catherine’s charges of promoting a connection between us by inviting me to Hunsford, even though we had no notion of Mr. Darcy’s coming until not long before he arrived.
Lady Catherine does not speak much to Mr. Collins now.
Charlotte, of course, counts this as a blessing, but Mr. Collins is like a lost sheep. ”
Mr. Bennet snorted. “It will do my cousin good to gain a little distance from Lady Catherine. Forever being tied to her apron strings will do him no good.”
“True,” said Elizabeth.
In time, Mr. Darcy moved closer to Elizabeth’s side, and Elizabeth could see at once that the gentleman had a purpose.
“Miss Elizabeth, shall we not walk out for a time?”
Elizabeth nodded. “That would be agreeable, Mr. Darcy.”
The warm spring had matured to a beautiful summer in the weeks since Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield.
It was Elizabeth’s favorite time of the year, as it allowed her the freedom to enjoy the outdoors, the light breeze stirring the foliage and the soft rustling it caused akin to the sweetest music.
As the day was hot and the sun brilliant overhead, Elizabeth was grateful for the bonnet protecting her skin, when usually she deplored the necessity of wearing it.
By her side, Mr. Darcy walked with his hands behind his back, his manner introspective.
Elizabeth could not help but wonder what he was thinking—to witness his friend’s happiness while his was yet unresolved could not be easy.
Yet he gave no indication of this—no frown marred his face. The gentleman appeared at ease.
“Have you heard anything more from your aunt, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, echoing her father’s earlier question.
“Nothing new, though I receive letters from her every day, or so it seems.” The gentleman paused. “My uncle has forbidden her from writing to him, so tired has he become of her constant harping. If such a device were open to me, I would use it at once.”
“Lady Catherine will not listen to you,” observed Elizabeth.
The exasperated sigh told Elizabeth everything she needed to know. “Not when I am a mere nephew and naught but a gentleman. If the lady knew I do nothing more than skim her letters to learn if she means to journey here, she would be quite offended.”
“Yet you are not concerned about offending her.”
“Not at all.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I apologize, Mr. Darcy. Had I considered the situation, I would have counseled Sir William to refrain from mentioning it in his letters.”
“It is not your fault, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “I should have considered it myself. Once he learned of Sir William’s speculation, Mr. Collins would hasten to Lady Catherine to inform her of what he knew.”
“I must own, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, “that this business disquiets me.”
“Oh?” asked Mr. Darcy, catching something of the arch nature of her comment.
“It does,” said Elizabeth. “Lady Catherine’s reaction is astounding, considering that Sir William only related speculation. How she will act if you persuade me to reconsider is something I can only look on with dread.”
“You have the right of it,” muttered Mr. Darcy.
Then the gentleman turned to her and fixed her with a look both speculative and hopeful. “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth—have you reconsidered?”
When Elizabeth looked at him, she could tell that this was not something about which she should jest without taking care. Being who she was, however, Elizabeth could not allow it to pass without injecting at least a slight witticism.
“I should not wish to provoke your aunt by owning to any such thing.”
“Trust me, I shall not breathe a word of it.”
Delighted by his ability to laugh, Elizabeth offered him a smile. “You know that I am not ready to hear a repeat of your proposal, Mr. Darcy. Let me only say that your attentions to me now are not onerous. I have come to enjoy our time together.”
The gentleman nodded, again appearing introspective. “To propose again now had not crossed my mind.”
A rueful expression came over him, and he amended: “Well, perhaps I have considered it. That it is still too soon is not a surprise. Can you oblige me by stating that it is not a hopeless business?”
“It is not a hopeless business, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “If it were impossible, I would have told you the moment you returned.”
Mr. Darcy blew out a relieved breath. “Yes, that is what I thought. I have not been without confidence, but having my observations confirmed is welcome.”
“If I am not mistaken,” said Elizabeth gently, “your friend’s happy situation has also weighed on you.”
“Actually, in that you are incorrect.” He paused and then gave her a helpless shrug. “Well, that is not entirely true. I am happy for Bingley—my friend deserves it. Do I wish for a similar happy resolution to our situation? Of course, I do. Yet I am not envious of his good fortune.”
“That displays you as a good man, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth.
The gentleman offered her a tender smile. “I thank you for that bit of flattery, Miss Elizabeth, but do not make it a virtue where it is not. Anyone would be pleased for a dear friend, even if they lamented their own situation.”
“Then I think we may proceed at whatever pace suits us,” said Elizabeth.
“I agree.” The gentleman grinned. “You once told me that your heart was all you could bring to a marriage. May I be so bold as to say that such a priceless gift is more than sufficient?”
“For many men in your position, it would be wholly insufficient.”
“I believe we have already acknowledged that I am not other men.”
“No, Mr. Darcy, you are not.”
With a nod, Mr. Darcy stepped closer and offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation. “Then let us go see what is around the next corner, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth could not help the laugh that sprang to her lips. “I am quite familiar with Longbourn, Mr. Darcy—I already know what lies beyond the next corner.”
“Teasing woman!” exclaimed Mr. Darcy.
“I believe, sir, that I shall enjoy the discovery as much as you will.”
“That is all I ask.”
As they stepped forward, Elizabeth realized it was not just a metaphor for their present condition or their imagined future. It was everything she wanted to find in life. Whether it would be with this man by her side, she could not say, but the answer was becoming clearer than ever before.
The End