Chapter 21
That evening, Darcy found Mr. Bennet in the ship’s galley, where the older gentleman had claimed a corner table as his private study. Books and papers were spread before him in what appeared to be organized chaos.
Darcy approached, and he looked up with mild surprise. “Mr. Darcy. How may I be of service? I warn you, if you seek entertainment, you will find me poor company. I am attempting to correlate Professor Drye’s clue with what I remember of Roman topography from the many maps I keep at Longbourn.”
“Then I will take but little of your time.” He noted the older man’s erect posture, his relaxed smile. “I cannot help but note that this journey has been good for you, sir.”
“I should say so. The salty air and bright sun, when added to the thrill of this expedition, have invigorated me. I will admit only to you that I was starting to fear Mrs. Bennet’s proclamations about being turned out of Longbourn would come true sooner than either she or I would like.
Between the Mary Catherine’s simple meals and the amount of exercise it takes to remain upright on a moving ship, I shall return to her a much healthier man. ”
“This is good news. Not only for your wife but for your daughters as well.” Darcy steadied his nerves. “Actually, sir, I am here to speak on a more personal matter. I wish to discuss my intentions regarding Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet set down his pen with deliberate care and leaned back on the bench, as the scholar gave way to the father “Ah. I wondered when this conversation might occur. Please be seated.”
Darcy squeezed himself onto a narrow bench, acutely aware of how the confined space seemed to intensify the gravity of the moment. “Sir, I have asked Miss Bennet’s permission to court her, and she consented. I felt it proper to inform you of this and to seek your approval.”
“Courtship, is it?” Mr. Bennet regarded him with an amused glint. “A formal approach for a treasure-hunting quest in the Mediterranean. Tell me, Mr. Darcy, what manner of man seeks to court my Lizzy?”
The question was precisely as expected. “I am a man of considerable fortune and property, which brings responsibilities I take seriously. I am devoted to my sister’s welfare. I am…I am completely in love with your daughter, sir.”
“And what sort of husband would you be to her?”
“One who values her intelligence and would feel privileged to receive her counsel. One who supports her interests, not seeking to reshape them to my own preferences. One who would make her happiness my primary concern over my own comfort or social standing.” Darcy paused.
“One who comprehends that Miss Bennet requires a partner, not a master.”
“Those are fine words, Mr. Darcy, but pretty speeches like that will not win Lizzy. She requires substance, genuine feeling, and above all, respect for her considerable wisdom.”
“All of which I am prepared to offer. Everything I have discovered about her compels me to provide that and more. She challenges me to think more clearly, feel more deeply, and act more justly than I did before I knew her.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Bennet picked up his pen, turning it over in his fingers. “You know, Elizabeth asked me a question yesterday that I found to be illuminating. She wanted to know what I hoped to discover in Rome beyond our scholarly objectives. Might I pose the same question to you?”
“I hope to discover different cultures with an open mind and allow myself to embrace them. I have been set in my ways, but I intend to change that…to recognize the value in the lives of others.”
He took a deep breath and continued, “I hope to learn whether Elizabeth and I might build a solid relationship, taking advantage of this time when we are both removed from the constraints of Society.”
“And what if you discover that you cannot adapt to such uncertainty? What if the adventure reveals incompatibilities between you?”
“Then I will accept that outcome with as much grace as I can manage,” Darcy said.
Mr. Bennet looked directly at him. “I was not favorably impressed by our first acquaintance, young man. Your initial insult at the Meryton assembly was egregious. Your interference in Jane’s happiness was…troubling.”
Thankfully, Elizabeth’s father had not finished. “However, I have observed changes in you since our reunion in Porto. More importantly, I have observed my favorite daughter’s response to those changes.”
“Would you share your recent observations?”
“She looks at you now with curiosity instead of disdain. She listens when you speak rather than merely waiting for you to finish. She seeks your company where she once endured it.” Mr. Bennet smiled. “These are significant developments for my Lizzy.”
“Then you do not object to my courtship?”
“I do not object, though I reserve the right to do so if you do not show continued evidence of change or if Elizabeth rejects you for any reason.”
“That is more than fair. Thank you, sir.”
“Now that your request has been granted, where do you think we should begin looking once we reach Rome?”
It was an abrupt change of topic, but Darcy appreciated the retreat to safer ground. He bent forward with interest. “Are you familiar with the Basilica Julia or the Curia?”
“My thoughts had gone to precisely those places.” Mr. Bennet brightened. “Though the phrase beneath marble feet puzzles me. Are we seeking a clue literally beneath a statue?”
“Perhaps. Or it might be a metaphor―beneath the foundations of Roman law, hidden where legal proceedings once took place.” Darcy warmed to the subject. “The challenge will be narrowing our search in such a vast archaeological area.”
“I suspect that this clue may prove more self-evident once we are actually standing among the ruins.” Mr. Bennet gathered his papers with obvious satisfaction. “I am tremendously eager to discover manuscripts that have been lost for over a thousand years. The prospect takes one’s breath away.”
“I share your excitement, sir. Though I admit my enthusiasm encompasses more than the possibility of discovery.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Yes, I dare say it does. Well then, since you have my permission to court Elizabeth, do call me Bennet. Mind you, do not disappoint my daughter or me.”
“I have no intention of disappointing either of you. And feel free to call me Darcy, as does my cousin.”
“Very well, Darcy. Now, shall we rejoin the others? I believe the sunset promises to be spectacular this evening.”
Elizabeth sat on her father’s narrow bunk, her travel journal open across her lap and her pencil moving across the page. The gentle rocking of the Mary Catherine had become so familiar now that she barely noticed it.
22 April 1812—Second day from Gibraltar
Below the date, she filled a page with a description of the Spanish coast and what Captain Morrison had shared about navigating the Mediterranean Sea in this region. Next, she speculated about the wonders she might see in Rome. Then she began writing what was foremost in her thoughts.
I had an illuminating conversation with Fitzwilliam today that has increased my eagerness to see how our courtship will develop. He listens with attention and shares his thoughts without condescension. This journey seems to have stripped away his prideful armor.
I now suspect that my initial impressions of his character were formed during his worst moments, while his feelings for me were developing in my home neighborhood, where I was comfortable and at my best. Perhaps we are finally meeting each other as we really are.
What will happen when we return to England? His unfavorable opinion of my mother and younger sisters was obvious in Hertfordshire. He insists that he loves me, and he does not even seem to notice my flaws. Can he ever overlook theirs? Could we be happy together if he cannot?
Elizabeth paused in her writing, considering how much of her evolving feelings she should commit to paper. The journal was private, yet something about recording intimate thoughts made them more tangible than she was ready to acknowledge.
A soft knock on her cabin door interrupted her reflections. “Elizabeth?” came Prudence’s voice. “Might I come in?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth set aside her journal and opened the door, allowing Prudence to enter and settle in the small chair.
“I hope I am not disturbing you.” Prudence settled herself. “I come seeking information about Colonel Fitzwilliam. He mentioned earlier that you were briefly in company at his aunt’s estate in Kent, so you are aware that he is not the merchant he claims to be.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I will not ask why you want to know. Instead, I will allow my imagination to run free and make my own conclusions.” She tapped her friend’s arm with her fingertips.
“I found the colonel to be delightful. Not only did he tease his cousin mercilessly―deservedly so, I might add―but he refused to be intimidated by his aunt. Do understand, this was no small matter. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is a formidable woman convinced of her own superiority. Never have I met anyone with such strong opinions that expose ignorance over expertise.”
Prudence’s smile widened. “He treated her well, though?”
“For a certainty. He never lost his dignity, nor did he show any disrespect. It was only a twinkle in his eye that conveyed a mischievous sense of humor. After a few days in company, we were well on the road to friendship.”
“I see,” Prudence peeked out of the small window.
“I will be honest with you. I have met many men in the years since I lost my husband. Not all have been gentlemen through and through. I have placed barriers around myself to prevent anyone from taking advantage of me―a constant danger in my position. Colonel Fitzwilliam constantly fails to respect these barriers.”
“He makes you uncomfortable?” Elizabeth’s hand shot to her chest.
“Ha!” Prudence practically snorted. “Richard Fitzwilliam is a menace. He is charming and knowledgeable, and…”
“And you do not trust him?”
“Of course I trust him!” Her shoulders squared. “I would trust him with my life.”
“But would you trust him with your heart?”
“That is the crux of the matter. I have spent seven years shoring up my defenses. He easily finds the gaps. I am not certain how…”
“You are not?” Elizabeth teased.
“Yes…I suppose I am. He bypasses my strict standards because I find myself inching the gate open. He simply pulls it open further and walks through.” She shook her head.
“I promised myself that I would never admire another military man, but he is military through and through. I must be the biggest fool on the planet.”
“Or you are the wisest.” Elizabeth studied the woman, tension plain in every inch of her.
“Scriptures say that the heart is treacherous. I could not agree more. Of course, it is easier to see danger when we are protecting someone else. It is more challenging to see our own way. Mr. Darcy has asked me for a courtship. I have promised myself―and now I promise you―I will take my time, not rushing into any life-altering decision before accepting or rejecting his suit. As you have said of Colonel Fitzwilliam, I trust him to protect my life. What we need to determine with certainty is whether we can trust the gentlemen with our hearts.”
Prudence nodded. “That is exactly how I feel.” She slapped her palms on her knees and stood with a broad grin. “You realize that, if we marry these men, you and I will be cousins.”
“What a pleasure that would be. On the other hand, even if we do not marry them, we will always remain good friends. Either way, we have formed a bond that will last a lifetime.”
“We have.” Prudence opened the door. “Come. Let us see what color the setting sun paints the sea today.”
The two ladies made their way topside to find the western sky already beginning its descent to the horizon. Bands of gold and coral shot across the sky, reflected in the water below. Elizabeth immediately spotted Darcy near the stern, his tall figure silhouetted against the dramatic sunset.
“Go to him,” Prudence urged with a knowing smile. “I shall find your father or that other man.”
Elizabeth chuckled. She did not doubt that, by the time they were back in England, Prudence Bell would be one of her closest friends.
As she approached Darcy, Elizabeth was drawn by an indefinable quality in his posture as he stood gazing at the horizon.
He turned as she got closer, his face aglow with obvious pleasure.
“Elizabeth,” he said warmly, making room for her at the rail.
“I had hoped you might join me. Have you ever seen such a sunset?”
“Never. It is as if the entire sky has caught fire.”
They stood together and quietly watched the sun sink lower toward the water.
While soaking in the atmosphere, Elizabeth found her other senses filled with acute awareness of Darcy’s presence beside her.
The rhythm of his breathing. The way the evening breeze ruffled his dark hair. The contentment emanating from him.
“Look there,” he said, nodding toward another part of the deck.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Prudence again stood together, this time near the bow, facing away from the sunset. Their conversation appeared intimate.
“How wonderful,” Elizabeth said with warmth. “Look how they charm each other.”
“Do we charm each other?”
Tilting her head to study him, she did not reply right away. “There is nothing like admiration from someone worthy to make a person want to become their best self.”
“Is that what you believe? That attraction centers us and makes us want to improve?”
“I do, very much so. When someone sees the best in us, we find ourselves more inclined to live up to that vision.”
“Then I hope…” Darcy stopped himself. “That is, I find myself wanting to become the man you see when you look at me with kindness. Someone worth caring for,” he said. “Someone whose affections might be welcomed instead of merely tolerated.”
What he had said was not easy for a man like him to say, and Elizabeth knew it. “Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Your affections are not merely tolerated.”
The admission hung between them in the gathering dusk, significant and precious. Darcy never looked away as he absorbed her words. Hope flickered to life across his features like the sunset spreading across the sky.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered.
“We should rejoin the others,” she said. She made no move to step away from him.
“We should.” He also remained perfectly still.
They continued to stand together as the last light faded from the sky and the first stars appeared above the Mediterranean. When they turned to rejoin their companions, Darcy caught Elizabeth’s hand in his. The gesture of connection felt natural despite its significance.