Chapter 8 #2
With Kitty still in London with the Gardiners, Lydia was quite alone in the schoolroom.
Within a few weeks, there was some obvious improvement in her behaviour, though Elizabeth could not decide whether her sister was merely complying or had begun to understand why such changes were expected of her.
Several events soon helped answer the question.
First, Mr Bingley formally asked to court Jane, sending Mrs Bennet’s excitement to even greater heights. Her most beautiful daughter being courted was apparently an even greater triumph than Elizabeth’s own prospects, a distinction Elizabeth found more amusing than offensive.
Then, only a few days later, Mr Bingley’s sisters finally arrived at Netherfield.
He brought them to Longbourn soon afterwards, and it quickly became apparent that neither Miss Bingley nor Mrs Hurst was particularly pleased with the company they found there.
Miss Bingley attached herself to Mr Darcy whenever opportunity allowed, despite his repeated efforts to discourage her attentions, and then turned much the same manner upon Georgiana.
What seemed to trouble her most, however, was discovering that Elizabeth and Mary referred to Georgiana by her Christian name.
Miss Bingley attempted to claim the same privilege almost immediately, only to be met with a quiet but unmistakably firm refusal. Georgiana reminded her that no such permission had ever been given. Miss Bingley went pale at the set-down but could scarcely object further.
At that precise moment, Elizabeth happened to glance towards Lydia and paused at the expression on her sister’s face. For once, Lydia appeared not amused, but thoughtful.
Elizabeth was pleased by this and continued to watch her youngest sister, taking whatever opportunities arose to befriend her and offer gentle guidance. Lydia seemed willing, and although she occasionally still acted the spoiled child she had been only a few weeks before, she was much improved.
Before long, however, matters of her own demanded rather more of her attention.
A little more than two months after Michaelmas, during one of their occasional meetings at Oakham Mount—the same place where they had encountered one another on the morning Mr Darcy formally sought her father’s permission to court her—Mr Darcy, or William, as he had by then asked her to call him when they were in private, proposed.
He took her entirely by surprise that morning, having somehow arranged a breakfast picnic before her arrival.
Elizabeth suspected he had received considerable assistance in the endeavour, particularly at such an early hour, but she was quite willing to enjoy the results: warm scones accompanied by cream and strawberry preserves, along with a pot of tea that was still pleasantly hot.
“Elizabeth,” he began.
There was an unfamiliar uncertainty in his voice, and she looked at him askance. Very little seemed capable of unsettling William, and she could not imagine what had made him appear so ill at ease now.
He drew a breath.
“Christmas is only a few weeks away, and I had hoped I might ask you for a particular gift this year.”
Elizabeth regarded him curiously, having no notion what he could mean.
“I had hoped—” He hesitated again, and she began to wonder whether she ought to pour him a cup of tea to fortify him for whatever he was attempting to say. At last, he met her eyes. “I had hoped I might ask you to grant me your hand.”
For one suspended moment, Elizabeth simply stared at him.
Then she understood it all—the careful arrangements, his unusual uncertainty, all of it.
“William,” she breathed, lifting both hands to her mouth.
A moment later, she laughed, happiness bubbling up too quickly to contain.
“You must know by now that I am more than willing to grant you anything you ask.” Her face softened. “And yes, William. I will very happily give you my hand.”
He stood abruptly and bent to draw her to her feet. For a moment, he said nothing, merely wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
Elizabeth scarcely had time to catch her breath before he drew back just enough to look at her. He hesitated, giving her every opportunity to turn away, but she made no move to do so.
His face lowered towards hers.
Their first kiss was gentle and brief, little more than the warm press of his lips against her own.
When he lifted his head, Elizabeth opened her eyes to find him still watching her. Something in his expression sent a shiver through her, and before she could decide whether she wished him to kiss her again, he did.
This time there was nothing tentative about it.
His arms tightened around her as his mouth settled more firmly over hers, the kiss lingering until Elizabeth forgot entirely about the picnic, the cold morning air, and nearly everything beyond the man holding her.
One of her hands came to rest against his chest, where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm.
The knowledge that he was every bit as affected as she was sent another rush of warmth through her.
For the second time in her life, Elizabeth felt herself in genuine danger of swooning.
The thought almost made her laugh, for the first occasion had also involved the very same gentleman.
This time, however, William’s arms were already wrapped securely around her, and she found she did not mind being stranded there at all.