Chapter 39
Darcy had not thought to consider it until they turned into the lane.
Longbourn came into view—familiar now in a way it had not been before—and with it came a most inconvenient realization.
He had no idea what explanation had been given to the rest of the Bennet family as to why he had broken down the front door and absconded with Elizabeth in the middle of the night.
I can only blame my wife for this, he thought with small smile. If being married to her were not so wonderful, I would not have overlooked such a detail.
He glanced at Elizabeth, whose expression was composed.
Mr. Bennet surely would not have told his wife the truth.
The idea was absurd.
She did not know Elizabeth’s true parentage—of that he was certain—and without it, Mr. Bennet could scarcely explain his objections. Nor could he imagine Mrs. Bennet receiving such information with anything approaching discretion.
No—
Some other account must have been given.
Darcy had only a moment longer to speculate, for the carriage drew to a halt, the door was opened, and Mrs. Bennet herself appeared at the entrance, all flutter and exclamation.
“My dear, dear Lizzy! Mr. Darcy! Oh, how delighted I am to see you both—such an age it has been, though not so very long, only it feels so—and to think of all that has happened!”
Elizabeth was scarcely upon the ground before she was seized, embraced, and thoroughly inspected. Darcy bowed to his new mother-in-law in greeting before turning and handing down Lady Catherine, Lady Anne, and Georgiana.
Having fussed over her daughter, Mrs. Bennet turned her attentions towards himself.
“Oh, my dear Mr. Darcy, I have long wished to thank you for your noble behavior when you last came to Longbourn.”
He blinked at her in surprise. Noble?
Mrs. Bennet pressed a hand to her bosom. “To think of it! My poor Lizzy taken so ill, and you with such presence of mind as to break down the door and carry her away at once—quite like a hero in a novel!”
Darcy’s brow lifted almost imperceptibly.
“—and to Rosings, too! Where you had the best of care ready for her, with that excellent physician who attends your cousin—such foresight! I declare, I do not know what we should have done without you!”
As Mrs. Bennet continued prattling, Darcy turned his head and looked at Mr. Bennet, who had the grace to look sheepish as he stood behind his wife.
Darcy suppressed the very strong inclination to say something decidedly pointed.
Instead, he inclined his head with all proper gravity. “You are most kind, madam.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together, and he suspected—strongly—that she was engaged in a similar effort.
Mrs. Bennet, entirely satisfied, continued her effusions, ushering them all inside with a stream of commentary that left little room for interruption.
Conversation continued to be just as lively in the drawing room.
Darcy had expected as much.
Lydia and Kitty were already present when they entered, though to his surprise, both were quieter than he had ever known them to be. They hovered near Georgiana, their usual exuberance subdued into something almost resembling civility as they attempted conversation.
Georgiana, to her credit, bore it with composure.
Mrs. Bennet, however, more than compensated for any lack of noise elsewhere.
She had secured Lady Anne and Lady Catherine and was holding them fast.
Darcy, seated at a slight remove, found it difficult to determine which of the two ladies was more discomposed—Lady Anne, who looked as though she scarcely knew where to place her eyes, or Lady Catherine, who regarded Mrs. Bennet with an expression of frank astonishment, as though she had encountered some entirely new and inexplicable species.
“My dear Lady Catherine,” Mrs. Bennet was saying, “you must allow me to offer you my heartfelt congratulations! Only one daughter—how very fortunate! I am sure it must have been the simplest thing in the world to see her so well married.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes widened, and the muscle in her jaw told Darcy his aunt was doing all she could to keep from gaping at the spectacle before her.
Mrs. Bennet pressed on.
“For I assure you, five daughters is quite another matter entirely. The expense! The anxiety! The endless planning! Though now that three are married—” she cast a satisfied glance about the room “—I am quite repaid for all my troubles.”
Darcy felt, rather than saw, Elizabeth’s reaction beside him.
Mrs. Bennet turned at once to Lady Anne.
“And you, my dear madam, must allow me to offer my services when Miss Darcy is of an age to be presented. I have had considerable experience in such matters, I assure you, and should be most happy to advise you on every particular—gowns, introductions, suitable acquaintances—”
Lady Anne murmured something polite.
Lady Catherine said nothing at all.
Dinner was announced soon after.
If Darcy had hoped for any abatement, he was disappointed. Mrs. Bennet continued in much the same strain throughout the meal, though now with greater detail and very little interruption.
“And Mary is settling in so well,” she declared, looking about the table with satisfaction.
“Mrs. Collins suits her exceedingly. Quite the proper situation for her—very respectable—and she is not so very far removed that we shall not see her again. Though of course,” she added with a sigh that was anything but sorrowful, “it is always a trial to have one’s daughters leave home. ”
The moment her sister’s name was mentioned, Darcy saw Elizabeth’s posture change. It was only a slight stiffening of her shoulders, but Darcy knew his wife well enough to discern that she was affected by her mother’s words.
He knew that look.
Her expression was composed—perfectly so—but there was a tension about her mouth that had not been there a moment before.
She was holding her tongue.
Darcy felt a flicker of sympathy—and something sharper beneath it.
Mrs. Bennet pressed on.
“But at least Mary will return to Longbourn one day,” she continued, entirely untroubled. “For of course, when Mr. Bennet is gone, Mr. Collins will come into the estate, and she will be mistress here. So it is not as though she is lost to us entirely.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around her fork.
Darcy met her eyes.
He offered the smallest, most understanding look he could manage.
Then—on impulse—he extended his leg beneath the table, seeking hers.
A small, private reassurance.
His foot found another.
He gave the faintest, careful pressure.
There was a sharp intake of breath—
“Lydia!” came Kitty’s indignant whisper. “Do not kick me!”
Darcy froze.
“I did not!” Lydia protested at once. “Do not be ridiculous, Kitty, I have not touched you.”
“You most certainly did—”
Darcy withdrew his foot instantly.
Heat rose, quite unwillingly, to his face.
Across the table, Elizabeth’s eyes widened for the briefest moment—
Then dropped, her composure slipping just enough that he knew she understood exactly what had occurred.
He did not dare look at her again.
Mrs. Bennet, fortunately, was entirely oblivious. “And of course, Lydia will not be long in following her sisters, I am sure—such a lively girl cannot fail to attract attention—. And then it will only be Kitty for whom I shall need to care when Mr. Bennet is gone.”
Mr. Bennet, without lifting his gaze from his plate, remarked that he might yet outlive them all and prove a considerable inconvenience.
Elizabeth nearly choked.
Darcy hid his amusement in his wine and spent the remainder of his meal determinedly not making eye contact with his wife.
Fortunately, the meal concluded soon thereafter. Mr. Bennet made no move to separate the sexes, and Darcy suspected—strongly—that this was by design.
Mr. Bennet showed no inclination to be left alone with him, and Darcy, for his part, was content to allow the larger company to remain.
Apparently he does not consider Bingley’s good-natured presence to be a sufficient shield against my resentful nature.
The notion that Mr. Bennet was afraid of Darcy was a rather pleasant one.
As soon as the company gathered once more in the drawing room, cards were called for.
Two tables were arranged, and the ladies and gentlemen mixed together in a manner that might have raised eyebrows in more formal company, but here passed without remark.
Lydia declared for whist, Kitty followed, and Bingley—ever eager—readily joined them.
Darcy found himself at the second table, engaged in a game he scarcely followed.
His attention, against his better judgment, was elsewhere.
Elizabeth moved easily through the room, speaking here, laughing there—until at last she came to stand beside him.
“You appear very intent upon your hand, sir,” she said lightly.
Darcy did not immediately look up. “I assure you, I am giving it my utmost consideration.”
“Are you?” she returned. “For from where I stand, it appears you are plotting the downfall of my younger sister.”
Darcy’s head came up at once.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.
“I beg your pardon?”
She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. “Kitty seems quite convinced that she was the victim of some under-table assault not long ago. I wondered if I ought to be concerned.”
His ears burned.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he said under his breath, “you cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” she replied, her lips curving. “Should I be alarmed? Has your attention already begun to wander? Poor Kitty—she has no notion what she invites.”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly.
“I entreat you,” he muttered, “do not pursue this line of teasing.”
“Alas,” she sighed, with mock regret, “I cannot. For you are bound to me by solemn vows, and I am not inclined to share you—nor to release you.”
He looked up at her then.
Truly looked.
And whatever further jest she had prepared faltered beneath the weight of his gaze.
“You must stop,” he said quietly.
There was something in his tone that made her breath catch.
“You know very well what such teasing does to me.”