Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
IT WILL DO
Darcy received Bingley the next day as a parson might receive the penitent. A sheaf of papers was produced and examined, and his nod given to show approval. “It seems all that remains is to ask the lady, then,” he said, and Bingley nodded.
“Will you attend me to Gracechurch Street?” Bingley asked, a small note of uncertainty in his voice.
“I shall,” Darcy agreed.
“And Darcy, will you…will you stand up with me?”
After a beat, Darcy nodded slowly. “Yes, I will.”
It was not half an hour later that they presented themselves at the Gardiners’ door. Mrs Gardiner had been obliged to go out, Mrs Miller informed him; Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet would receive the two men in the parlour.
When he had returned Elizabeth to Gracechurch Street the night prior, he had told her that she might expect them in the late afternoon; and so it was.
She and Jane were seated by the fireplace, away from the sofa by the window that she generally favoured.
She will be mine, he thought, hugging the delicious notion to himself.
He wondered if she had shared the news with her sister or her aunt.
He hoped she had; there was a small part of him that still mistrusted his own joy.
Her eyes were trained on Bingley when the two men entered. When she turned her attention to Darcy, he saw it—relief that he had come with his friend and gratitude towards him for doing so. One day he hoped and prayed for far more than gratitude, but for now, gratitude would do.
He walked to the window and stood with his back to it, watching as his friend took the fore.
He had thought, after reflection the night prior, that Bingley would manage it tolerably.
He had underestimated the degree to which Bingley’s eloquence, which was considerable in ordinary social intercourse, abandoned him entirely under conditions of emotional distress.
He listened quietly as Bingley stuttered and stumbled and asked after Miss Bennet’s health.
“She has been ill, Mr Bingley,” said Elizabeth, a note of soft disdain in her voice. “As I am certain you can see.”
“Y-yes,” Bingley agreed, flushing red. “Yes, and I am sorry to see it.”
A moment too late, Miss Bennet said, “Thank you.”
There was a pained silence.
“A-and I am sorry for things…for the other things…I daresay you comprehend how things…well.” Bingley rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth, you would be so good as to—”
“In fact, no, I will not,” she said, to Darcy’s surprise. “You are clearly finding it difficult to come to the point, sir, so perhaps we might ease the way with a bit of honesty.”
“Honesty?” Bingley echoed.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I know, and Jane knows, that you do not wish to do what it is you are about to do. A delayed sense of responsibility, enforced not by your own conscience but by the gentlemanly honour of your friend, has compelled you forth. For now it is enough, but I trust you will understand me when I tell you that I do expect that you will be a faithful, loyal, and loving husband and a most excellent father.”
“I will,” Bingley said quickly.
“You must.” She leant forwards then, and upon her face came nothing less than pure fire, burning fury for what the last months had done to her and to her most beloved sister.
Bingley drew back, clearly seeing it for himself as well.
“Because if you do not, Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy’s pistol will be the least of your concerns.
I will be upon you with the rage of Lyssa.
I will poison your soup and infect your small clothes with lice.
I will pour honey on that damnable rod of yours and toss you on an anthill.
In other words, I will settle things in the manner of a vengeful sister, not a gentleman, and you, sir, will pray for the charm of a bullet’s escape. ”
Darcy swallowed and tried not to laugh. Bingley appeared nothing short of terrified, and Elizabeth had never looked more beautiful. Again, the wonder of it struck him. She will be mine.
“I-I promise to you, most earnestly, that I shall be an excellent husband and father,” said Bingley. “You need never worry on that score.”
“I am delighted that we understand one another.” She smiled prettily and rose to her feet. “I shall join Mr Darcy by the window and permit you some privacy to ask your question.”
She walked the short paces required to get to him, and together they turned to look out the window onto the street beneath them. “Remind me never to anger you,” Darcy murmured.
“Oddly, I am far better able to forgive slights against myself than those against the people I love.” She smiled up at him, and he, looking down, longed to kiss her. He contented himself with secretively taking her hand, holding it in front of them so neither Bingley nor Miss Bennet would see.
Behind them, they heard Bingley ask his question, with the requisite promises of fidelity, honour, and eternal love. And Miss Bennet answered yes.
The plans that had been made on Miss Bennet’s behalf were then rehearsed.
They would visit the Doctors’ Commons to obtain a licence and marry on the earliest day permitted.
Mr and Mrs Bennet would arrive in town within the next days so that Mr Bennet could give away his daughter and Mrs Bennet could be certain that the wedding clothes were ordered at the best warehouses.
“I thought we might go to Scarborough for a few months,” said Bingley. “Until…”
“Yes,” said Miss Bennet. “That seems a good notion.”
“Afterwards, we can return to town or to Netherfield for the autumn, whatever you should wish to do,” Bingley offered, and Miss Bennet thanked him softly.
There was then a short silence followed by the sound of a box being opened and Miss Bennet uttering a quiet gasp. Darcy smiled, having some idea of what his friend was doing.
“This is my mother’s wedding ring,” Bingley told Miss Bennet. “She gave it to me to give to my wife. You will, of course, wish to choose your own wedding ring but perhaps might wear this until then to signify the promises we have made today.”
Darcy felt Elizabeth lay her head against his shoulder and exhale deeply; he thought he heard her whisper, “It is done.” She had been, he recognised, more frightened than she had allowed Miss Bennet to see.
She had been carrying the possibility that Bingley would find some eleventh-hour escape, or would arrive to do his duty but perform it so badly that it became a wound rather than a resolution.
But now the fear had left her. Now there was, after long days of misery and terror, relief.
She looked up at him and whispered, “I suppose now is the time to offer congratulations.”
They turned from the window and walked over to the couple. Darcy offered his congratulations and shook Bingley’s hand and bowed to Miss Bennet while Elizabeth allowed Bingley to claim the privilege of a brother, then she hugged her sister tightly.
Mrs Gardiner had returned then, or perhaps had returned earlier but tactfully allowed the younger people her parlour.
Mr Gardiner was summoned from his offices, and tea was brought out along with a very fine sponge-cake.
He understood from Elizabeth that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were unaware of the disaster which had lurked beneath the surface of their home in the last weeks; if they sensed anything from the subdued nature of the celebration, they did not acknowledge it.
The haste of the nuptials did lead to a questioning look from Mr Gardiner in Mr Bingley’s direction, but he said nothing of it.
Miss Bennet was growing weary, dark shadows appearing beneath her eyes along with yawns that came with increasing frequency. Darcy gave his friend a significant look and said, “Your bride still suffers the effects of her illness, Bingley, and the Doctors’ Commons awaits.”
“Yes, yes,” said Bingley, rising to his feet. “We will be off for now, but I hope I might call again in the morning.”
“I suspect we will see a great deal of you in the next fortnight, sir,” announced Mr Gardiner jovially. “Pray do inform me which is your favoured chair, and I will ensure it is unoccupied when you arrive!”
“The small sofa, of course,” said Bingley, gesturing towards the one which sat only two by the fireplace.
His words made Miss Bennet blush and told Darcy that the rude, bull-headed man he had come to know over the last days may have been put down.
In its place, the Bingley he had always known, easy-tempered, pliable, and amiable. It was a welcome exchange.