Chapter 29 An Introduction to Mr Darcy
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
AN INTRODUCTION TO MR DARCY
“Miss Bennet? Her ladyship would like you to attend her in her parlour,” said the housekeeper as soon as Elizabeth entered the house.
Elizabeth shrugged her pelisse into the lady’s waiting hands. “Do you know why?”
“I am afraid I do not.”
Elizabeth turned to look at the housekeeper. “Is she… How is she feeling today?”
Mrs Edwards shook her head. “A little worse, I think. She would only take tea, but she is sitting up, so perhaps that is a good sign.”
Elizabeth frowned and hurried her steps towards the parlour. She pushed open the door, immediately seeing Lady Catherine in the large armchair, generally reserved for Lord Matlock, and covered in a blanket.
“You wished to…” Her words trailed off as she shifted her gaze from the study of Lady Catherine to a dark-haired gentleman sitting on a chair beside her. Mr D. He turned to look at her as she entered, then rose to his feet, eyes twinkling.
“You wished to see me, Lady Catherine?”
“Come and sit.” Lady Catherine gestured towards Mr D. “I want to introduce you to my nephew. This is Darcy. Darcy, meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet who is Anne’s particular friend.”
Mr D, or rather Mr Darcy, bowed. “It is a pleasure indeed to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. I hear you have been an excellent friend to my dear cousin.”
A beat too late, Elizabeth sank into a curtsey. “How do you do, Mr D…Darcy,” she said, stumbling over the name she had been too long warning herself not to use.
“Very well, Miss Bennet,” he said. “I have been wanting to meet you for some time. You are much admired by my sister.”
“Thank you. She is a charming girl, and I like her exceedingly well.” She tilted her head a little and said, “I understand you have nearly raised her. You are to be commended.”
“It has not always been easy, that is true, but I am proud of her.”
“You have seen her through the most difficult age, to be sure.” Elizabeth offered a small smile.
“You might wonder why I am introducing you to the very nephew I warned you against so strenuously,” said Lady Catherine. “It seems he has had some sort of a reckoning and came to us today to offer his apologies for all the distress he caused poor Anne.”
It was a shaming sort of speech, delivered in chastising accents, but Mr D—Mr Darcy—bore it well.
“That is very good of him,” Elizabeth said, her eyes not leaving him.
“There is nothing more important than family, certainly not pride,” he said and leant over his aunt, kissing her on the cheek. “I am only sorry that it took above a year for me to know it.”
“I still say you are a fool,” said Lady Catherine, but this time with some fondness in her voice. “You would have been one of the richest young men in all of England!”
Mr Darcy inclined his head. “I will have to make do without it, I suppose. I daresay Anne and Jolly will be very happy together.”
“Yes, well… I must say I only hope that he gets a good tailor. I have never seen him but that his shirttails are half-out and his hat askew.”
“He has looked like that since we were at school,” said Mr Darcy with a smile. “I think his valet quite despairs of him.”
“He may be made a marquess,” said Lady Catherine with a little sniff. “Your uncle will see what he can do for that.”
“You look very tired, my lady,” Elizabeth interjected, for Lady Catherine did. What small amount of colour had resided on her countenance had gone, and she had slid down into her chair a little, abandoning good posture. “Shall I help you back to your bed?”
“Thank you, my dear,” she said, her voice already fading. “But I daresay I can sleep right here.”
“If you are certain?” Elizabeth asked. “What if we at least moved you to the chaise?”
Her eyes closed, Lady Catherine gave a slight nod. “I suppose if you must. Never let it be said that I do not possess an obliging temper.”
Elizabeth moved quietly over to Lady Catherine, helping her stand and move the few feet to the chaise.
Mr Darcy helped her guide her to the new spot and reached for a pillow to keep his aunt more comfortable.
Elizabeth added her shawl to the one already draped across her shoulders and brought over a bell to put on the table beside her.
When she had finished, she glanced up at Mr Darcy and, by unspoken agreement, they both quietly moved from the room.
“I cannot help but notice,” said Mr Darcy as they descended the stairs, “that neither Elizabeth nor Bennet begins with the letter L.”
“That is an excellent observation, sir,” she agreed. “No, they do not.”
“One must wonder if you meant merely to bewilder? Or if there was some other purpose?”
She peeped up at him. “Lizzy, Mr Darcy, begins with the letter L and so happens to be the name I was called by my family in younger years. Some of them call me that still.”
“Lizzy,” said he. “Hm, I must say I know not how it might have suited you in those younger years, but I think that Elizabeth suits you far better.”
In a manner that would not be noticed by anyone passing by—she hoped—he reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Elizabeth is the name for royalty. It suits you.”
A rush of heat went through her with the small gesture, and she covered her consternation by saying, lightly, “Whereas Lizzy is the name of a hoydenish creature that runs races against the boys and tears her frock climbing trees.”
He laughed heartily. “I quite like both pictures of you.”
They had arrived at the entry hall, but Mrs Edwards had not yet come to them.
“I imagine,” he said, “a small daughter running about Pemberley, catching frogs and delighting everyone with her vivacity. A daughter who looks just like her mother. Like you.”
She blushed and shook her head. “Clearly much has changed for you with your family and for that I am glad. One fact remains unchanged, however, and that is that I am entirely unsuitable—”
“I will have none of that,” he interrupted. “If you wish to reject me, do so for my own faults, which are plentiful. But you are absolute perfection to me, and nothing about you could ever be unsuitable.”
“You do not know the whole of it,” she said.
“I do,” he said firmly. “I have learnt all that I can about you and your family. I have been down on Clements Street, you know. And I have dined in Gracechurch Street.”
“What? When?”
“Last evening, in fact,” he said. “We were having a small celebration of your sister’s engagement. To my friend Bingley. Not an official one, mind you. We thought it best to wait for you for that.”
Elizabeth realised she had opened and closed her mouth silently too many times. She was gaping like a fish, she feared. “But I knew nothing of that. Jane writes me almost daily and said nothing of any of it.”
But Jane had, she realised, just that morning. Jane had said she had a surprise for Elizabeth, once she returned home. Elizabeth had imagined that Jane would have embroidered them a new coverlet or some sort of thing like that.
“Your uncle is a fine man,” said Darcy. “I like him excessively.”
“As do I,” she said.
“In fact, I like him so well, I have invited him to come to Pemberley. They mean to travel to the Lakes next month, and Pemberley will be right along their route. Your aunt, you know, spent some of her girlhood in Lambton which is not five miles from Pemberley.”
“I do remember hearing something of that sort.”
“They would like to have you travel with them. I would very much like for you to see Pemberley, but…”
“But what?”
“But I cannot help but to think it would be far better to have you already at Pemberley, receiving them as its mistress, and my wife.”
“Do you often ask women to marry you whom you have known for mere minutes?” she teased.
“I have never asked any woman to marry me. I have never even wanted to and yet you? I have been wishing to marry you for months now. In fact I…I believe I might even have an engagement present for you.”
“An engagement present?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I might be utterly mistaken about that, but you will need to accept me before you receive it.”
“I think…I think perhaps we ought to know one another better first,” she said. “We have only just learnt each other’s names, after all. There is a great deal—”
“I am certain I know everything necessary to know about you,” he said firmly.
“But if you wish to come to know me better, then I will do as you like. Knowing you has taught me valuable lessons and made me an improved man; and one thing I know most important is that pride, and selfishness, will never make for real happiness.”
He reached out to take her hand, and she allowed it to be taken. He then bent and kissed each individual knuckle, four kisses the tenderness of which somehow held promise.
He straightened. “Well, that is already a vast improvement; you did not yank your hand away.”
She laughed. “I did so because I was…frightened of you. Frightened of liking you too much.”
“I am frightened of liking you too much as well,” he told her. “But my heart has given me no choice. It is yours, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, whenever you choose to take it.”
“I do…I do hope that is soon,” she admitted.
“As do I.” His eyes were intent upon hers as if drinking her in before he offered a bow. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Good day, Mr Darcy.” He turned and opened the door, and as he did, she cried out, “Wait!”
He turned back to her.
“Your given name…I believe it is Fitzwilliam, yes?”
He gave a little nod. “Yes, Fitzwilliam Jonathan Darcy. And what is your full name?”
“Miss Elizabeth Violet Bennet. My mother gave us each a flower as the second name. Poor Lydia has been stuck with Syringa.”
With a chuckle, Mr Darcy departed.