The Resolution #2
She was feeling unaccountably nervous herself, both responsible for his happiness, and the sudden fluttering she felt in her own breast. She wondered if she were belatedly recognising that she had been in love with the man all along, or if she just could not imagine disappointing her mother with another rejection.
She was not sure if she liked the way her hands were trembling, as he could certainly feel it as well as she could.
When she started speaking, it took little time to realise she was babbling like Lydia.
“I believe the established mode is to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, but— “
She took a shuddering breath, and stared into his eyes which she now, belatedly, realised were filled with love—the same love she had confused with censure in Hertfordshire because it was impossible to believe.
“That is to say… I do not believe a love story should start with gratitude. Charlotte, believe it or not, is very wise. That night you mentioned at Lucas Lodge, she said, ‘We can all begin freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.’”
She looked at him intently. “You have done so. I can assure you that I gave you no encouragement whatsoever. I do hope you did not fall in love with me just because I am the first eligible woman you ever met who did not give you encouragement.”
“Would that be so terrible if it were true?”
“Not as such. It would not be an adequate basis for love,” she had to stop and think for some time, “but on the other hand, it is no less arbitrary than a dance, or cliché like a look across a crowded ballroom.”
“Or a sonnet?” he said, and they both burst out laughing. For the first time, they were both feeling like they just might have something.
“I quite despised you, you know. Part of that was Mr Wickham’s poison, which I will want you to clarify at some point, but most of it was my wounded vanity. It is hurtful to be so summarily dismissed—though many women endure worse every day, so I have no room to complain.”
He grunted. “If Mrs Bennet’s behaviour in public is any guide, I surmise you probably did endure worse every day.”
She sighed, any mention of her mother being an effective way to kill a good mood.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and she finally said, “I do not believe I have answered you.”
“I doubt not the whole thing comes as a surprise. Perhaps I might have been better served by asking to court you properly.”
She snorted, again like Lydia. “Yes, being courted by Mr Ten Thousand under the watchful eye of my mother, or by Mr Repudiator under the haughty eye of Lady Catherine would be ever so much fun.”
“What do you suggest?”
She laughed. “I think the most amusing thing might be to buy a common license and force Mr Collins to marry us tomorrow, since when I rejected his suit, he claimed I would never receive another offer of marriage… but the joke would not be worth the price.”
“Would you settle for a special license and the archbishop in London? He is my godfather.”
Elizabeth laughed for some time, then stopped abruptly.
“You are serious?”
“I am. Naturally, your elder sister, and maybe even the next younger, would come live with us if you agree.”
“You certainly know the way to a lady’s heart.”
“Have I made it to my lady’s heart?” he asked nervously.
She smiled demurely. “You have! I will marry you. Since my uncle in Cheapside has my father’s authority, I am inclined to just get on with it.
I am not in love with you yet, but I am halfway there and see no reason we cannot finish what we have begun.
I am quite ready to put away my childish things. ”
Darcy took both her hands to his lips and gave them a good kiss, but since there was a good chance Lady Catherine or Mr Collins would burst through the door in high dudgeon any moment, he restricted himself to her hands.
“Is Miss Bennet still in London to stand up with you? Are you absolutely certain you do not wish a proper wedding in Meryton?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I think having Mrs Bennet as your mother-in-law will be punishment enough. You need not endure her as a wedding planner. My father will be satisfied with any solution that does not involve effort or expense.”
Darcy frowned, but when he saw her start getting angry, he quickly said, “I am not frowning for your relations. I am frowning for mine.”
“As in?” she said, somewhat mollified though not entirely convinced.
“Lady Catherine has for at least a decade advanced the incorrect belief that I am engaged to her daughter because our mothers planned it in our cradles.”
“It sounds like negligence on your father’s part, not writing it down and the like.”
Darcy chuckled and kissed her hands again.
She looked at the clock. “If we wish to marry precipitously, we will need to return to town similarly.”
“Can you be ready tomorrow? I can take you with Fitzwilliam and a maid.”
“Easily. May I tell Charlotte?”
“Mrs Collins, yes; Mr Collins—”
She laughed. “You need not state the obvious.”
They heard the sound of the carriage returning with the rest of the parsonage inhabitants, so he quickly named a time for them to leave in the morning and took the chance to kiss her lips briefly. Both liked the feeling very much and wanted more but needs must.
As he walked out the door, she asked, “When and how shall we tell Lady Catherine? She shall know disappointment of the acutest kind.”
He chuckled, reached down, and kissed her cheek one last time.
“I believe wedding announcements are a dish best served cold.”
~~ Finis ~~