Chapter 25 #2
Across the room, Mrs. Bennet had already begun to murmur about calls, lace, new ribbons, and how Lady Lucas would never have expected such a thing.
Mr. Collins sat stiffly, trying and failing to look benevolent.
Lydia whispered something to Kitty that made them both laugh.
Mary returned to her plate with the air of a person who would later extract a moral from all of it.
Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the closed door through which her father and Darcy had gone.
Her laughter faded into a smaller, more anxious smile.
On this side of the door, at least, the news had survived its first storm.
She could only hope Darcy was faring as well in the bookroom.
∞∞∞
Darcy followed Mr. Bennet into the bookroom with a composure that was almost entirely external.
The room smelled of leather, paper, and old dust, with a faint trace of tobacco beneath it.
Books lined the walls in careless abundance, some arranged by size, others by no principle Darcy could discern.
A newspaper lay open upon one chair, a stack of estate papers occupied the edge of the desk, and several volumes appeared to have been placed upon the floor with the confidence of a man who expected no one else to require a clear path.
Mr. Bennet went behind his desk and sat.
He did not invite Darcy to do the same.
Darcy remained standing.
For several moments, neither spoke. Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and regarded him over steepled fingers, one eyebrow raised in a manner so reminiscent of Elizabeth that Darcy might have smiled had he not been too aware of the importance of the interview.
At last, Mr. Bennet said, “I believe you were the one who requested this interview, Mr. Darcy, so it falls to you to begin. Unless you are of the impression that I can read minds, in which case you will be sorely disappointed. I have not yet developed that particular talent, thankfully. Otherwise, I should never have a moment’s peace from the silly thoughts of my wife and daughters. Though perhaps it is one you possess?”
Darcy blinked.
He had faced officers, creditors, tenants, tradesmen, and an earl displeased with the late actions of his brother-in-law. He had not often found himself addressed in precisely this manner.
“No, sir,” he said, a little more stiffly than he intended. “I do not presume upon any such talent.”
“A pity. It would save us both the labor of speech.”
Darcy drew a breath. “I have come to request your permission to court Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyebrow remained where it was.
Silence returned.
It was not the silence of thought alone. Darcy had the distinct impression that Mr. Bennet allowed it to lengthen because he enjoyed watching other men endure discomfort. Darcy stood still beneath it, though every second scraped against his nerves.
At last, Mr. Bennet sighed and gestured toward the chair opposite him. “Sit down, Mr. Darcy. It seems this conversation will be longer than I expected.”
Darcy sat.
Mr. Bennet continued to study him. “Courtship, you say.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not marriage.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I proposed marriage this morning.”
Both Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows rose now. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And my daughter refused you?”
Darcy felt the words like an old bruise pressed hard. “She declined my offer of marriage, yes.”
“How very Lizzy-like.”
Darcy was not certain how to answer that.
Mr. Bennet tapped one finger against the arm of his chair. “And yet you are here requesting permission to court her.”
“Yes. It is what she requested.”
“Why?”
“Because she wishes to know me better.”
“A prudent answer. Unusually prudent, for a young lady who has just had a gentleman of your consequence throw himself at her feet before breakfast.”
Darcy’s neck warmed. “I did not precisely throw myself at her feet.”
“No? A pity. It would have made the story better.”
Darcy looked down briefly, then forced himself to meet Mr. Bennet’s gaze.
“Miss Elizabeth felt that marriage was too serious a commitment to enter upon while our acquaintance is still so brief and while there have been misunderstandings between us. She believed a courtship would allow us to speak more openly and determine whether our regard is steady enough to bear the duties attached to it.”
For the first time, Mr. Bennet’s amusement softened into something nearer attention. “That does sound like Lizzy.”
“It does her credit.”
“It often does.” Mr. Bennet leaned back again. “Now, Mr. Darcy, let us proceed to the less romantic portions of the matter. Can you support a wife?”
“Yes.”
“I understood you were in want of a large dowry. My Lizzy does not come with anything save a thousand pounds upon her mother’s death.”
Darcy had expected the question. He had not expected how unpleasant it would feel to hear the rumor placed so plainly between them.