The Hertfordshire Cliff #2
Elizabeth sighed. “So, if I am correct, you entered the assembly as four men. The matrimonial prey had Miss Bingley nipping at your heels, and her pack joined the chase minutes after you walked into the room.”
Darcy laughed. “You certainly know how to draw a metaphor.”
“I admit it is more than a little silly, but I did get you to laugh.”
He gave her a brilliant smile that looked like the much older and wiser brother of the small grin that adorned his face all those times she and Charlotte observed him staring in the autumn, and she thought it was not a terrible thing.
He picked up the narrative. “I was also the clumsy, tongue-tied clodpole, who cannot, or possibly will not, talk to women.”
She shrugged, not willing to comment on that.
Time would tell whether it was true or not, but his actual comments had nothing to do with his reticence and everything to do with his arrogance.
However, she was as willing to forgive him as she was to forgive the same from her mother every week of her life.
She added, “Do not forget the deeply hidden responsible master, who has to write all those odious letters of business, and whom not a single person in the room recognised.”
She sighed. “And then, just as you found yourself a cave where you could rest a minute while the pack of hounds bayed for your blood, your good friend Bingley acted much like all the fathers, brothers, uncles, and other concerned citizens throwing marriageable women at you.”
Darcy started. “You cannot possibly blame Bingley for that disaster.”
“No, but he should have known better.”
“I suppose so.”
Elizabeth began to feel exhausted by all that had occurred and wondered how he felt.
“May I assume that the combination of those four men correctly assessed my mother as mercenary, incorrectly assessed Jane as unattached, and our situation as inadequate for a mere gentleman?”
The sneer on the words ‘mere gentleman’ alarmed the man, but after a moment, he concluded she was trying gently to show him how pervasive were the expectations of his mother, aunt, and other family.
“You may.”
“And may I also presume that,” then she stared at his face to ensure his rapt attention before continuing, “you thought you were acting for a friend, even though your methods were high-handed, disingenuous, and dishonest.”
He swallowed hard, but nodded agreement.
“May I further presume you will never act that way again?”
“You may,” he said, afraid to state it louder or more emphatically.
She sighed. “I cannot say that my upbringing is as complex, or my character so confusing, but I will warn you that it is not much fun acting as the young lady being thrown in the paths of marginally eligible men either.”
“Inadequate as I feel as Georgiana’s guardian, I am familiar with your argument. She has been terrified of entering society for years. I sometimes think she only let Wickham in because an elopement would save her from the marriage mart.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I can think of at least five ways to mitigate that problem,” but did not elaborate. She was aware that she might well be tasked with the disagreeable job if they continued their current path.
For some time, they sat there staring over the landscape without seeing any of the beauties of the Hertfordshire countryside.
Both thought much had been said, much had been felt, and though neither could be aware of the other’s thoughts, both were intensely reviewing the long and complicated history of the Darcy heir. Elizabeth was naturally reviewing her imaginings, while Darcy was reviewing his memories.
When Elizabeth turned her attention to the actual man beside her instead of the imagined boy in her head, she noticed something she had never seen before.
He just seemed exhausted. He seemed tired, much like Jane had in the weeks after receiving Miss Bingley’s note, something that Darcy was at least partially responsible for.
She ruefully reflected that if Jane could forgive him, she should be able to do the same.
His far-away look and troubled countenance also bothered her. She wondered if he felt he had rescued his suit with his honesty or driven her away. She had to admit that either would have been possible.
He said softly, “It is painful, sometimes, remembering things that were done and said by the people who were supposed to protect us.”
“You are nothing to Jane,” she said, and felt the walls of her defences crumbling. “No man will ever look at you unless you learn to control that impertinent tongue of yours. Your father did you no favours.”
“Why can you not be more like young Wickham? He is but the son of a steward, yet he dominates every conversation. It is but a dance, not mathematics. She is just a girl, not an ogre—ask a question or two and go from there—how hard can it be?”
She stared, wondering which of their parents had been the cruellest, and became alarmed when his attention turned introspective, and his face first settled into the stone mask he habitually wore in company, and then gradually turned into something like a tormented boy.
He whispered, “How about it, Fitzwilliam? Nobody would give you a second thought if you were not the heir. You know your father loves me more than you! Maybe he will leave Pemberley to me! It is not entailed, after all. He can leave it as he chooses.”
The raw hurt in his voice nearly broke her heart, and she just wanted to find that boy, embrace him, ruffle his hair, and tell him everything would be well.
When his tears began to flow, a dam seemed to break inside him.
She knew boys were given rather harsh training to reinforce the idea that ‘men do not cry’, and imagined a man in his position must have had those tears stored up for a decade.
She ruefully admitted it was easier for women, as someone was crying in Longbourn at least once a fortnight.
As his sobs increased, she longed to reach out… to help him… to hold him… to—
A startling realisation hit her all at once, as she found the gap between them on the bench was entirely gone, though she could not remember moving.
Since she was already leaning against him, it was a simple matter to run her hand behind his back, squeeze the opposite shoulder, and lean in close enough to whisper in his ear.
“Despite all the differences in our sex, our consequence, our upbringing, our experience—in the end, I believe we are exactly the same thing.”
His tears were still running, though she suspected he was very manfully trying to stop them. He spoke with a slightly thick voice, “Which is?”
“We are just two people who want desperately to be loved.”
He finally turned his head to face her and nodded. She had never in her wildest imaginings thought the first man who ever managed to get his face an inch or two from hers would be crying and blubbering at the time, but life is strange sometimes.
“Truly?” he asked, as if he had been on a hopeless quest with little chance of success.
She stared at him for a moment with a feeling of wonder that she could finally understand the confusing man and was happy to discover he was not so complex once known.
She smiled and said, “One correction, though.”
He looked at her hopefully and, perhaps, hungrily.
“We are just two people who are loved.”
She watched in wonder at how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him. For some minutes, they sat there in wonder, and revelled in feelings, which, in proving of what importance they were to each other, made their affections every moment more valuable.
His tears had stopped, so she carefully took her handkerchief and wiped his face in a caress that she suspected was almost as intimate as their first kiss might be. As for that event, it seemed likely to be imminent, and she revelled in the anticipation.
He asked shyly, “Really? Can it be true? You will marry me?”
“I can, and I will,” she said, then had nothing at all to say as their lips came together for their first kiss.
Elizabeth had read any number of descriptions about kissing, and she had discussed it in endless and ignorant detail with her female friends; but since the married friends were notoriously silent on the subject, she had no idea what to expect.
In truth, she thought there might be many kinds.
She would later learn of the frightening intensity of a kiss of passion, but for that day, she found herself entirely satisfied with a kiss of comfort, healing, and finally, belonging.
The kiss went on for some time as they became accustomed to each other, but eventually they parted. A few quick kisses on the nose, followed by leaning their foreheads together, left them feeling content… safe… loved, for perhaps the first time.
“I cannot believe it,” Darcy finally said. “Who would have thought that being unmanly would win the day?”
Elizabeth laughed gaily. “If you apologise for those honest tears, I will throw you off this cliff!”
“Hillock!”
With a joyous laugh, they jumped up from the bench. They were so excited to share their news they did not realise they were abandoning their very last chance for privacy before the wedding.
When they joined the rest, no words were required. Jane, Mary, and Georgiana ran in like wild women to offer hugs, kisses, and congratulations, while the men offered more manly and exuberant sentiments in the form of slaps on the back and loud boasting.
Elizabeth would never tell them that a few tears were all it took to get a man out of disfavour.
They finally settled down and accepted the heartfelt congratulations from Tom Peregrine, who was smiling from ear to ear.
The walk back to Longbourn saw the men endlessly discussing how to get two couples in love married with the least time., effort, and frustration.
They burst through the door of the breakfast room to find the rest of the family at table.
While Elizabeth appreciated the men’s discussion, and wished them well in business matters, she found herself in a hurry.
“Mama, Papa, girls—Jane and I are engaged. Oh, just to avoid confusion, it is to Messrs Bingley and Darcy, respectively. Papa, you shall give your consent and blessing before luncheon. You may tease as much as you like, for one hour only. Mama, we will call the banns Sunday and marry in one month.”
Then she nonchalantly shooed Kitty and Lydia away so the couples could sit down, and finally said the most important words of the day.
“Let us eat!”
~~ Finis ~~