Chapter 7
As the cold weather that had held the city in its icy grip continued to thaw, life and all its elements resumed their customary patterns.
For Elizabeth, however, there was one new feature in her world that she would have been loath to give up.
Since their chance meeting at the foundling home, Mr Darcy had become a regular caller at Gracechurch Street, and in the passing weeks, Elizabeth was astonished to find they were so thoroughly well-suited.
Mr Darcy was quite open in displaying his regard, something that still had the ability to take her by surprise, and for her part, he enraptured her like no man ever had before.
He respected her, challenged her—and although she suspected he would always be of a reserved temperament, to Elizabeth’s surprise, she found she appreciated his calm steadiness.
Perhaps after living in such a clamorous environment as Longbourn, Elizabeth’s joy in such quietude ought to have been expected.
Settling down with her correspondence—a welcome appearance after so many weeks without the post—Elizabeth lost herself to the latest news from home. Completely preoccupied, she failed to notice her visitor until the maid announced his name.
“Mr Darcy, ma’am.”
Startled but pleased, Elizabeth rose from the sofa and said, “Mr Darcy, welcome. Pardon my distraction, but I have finally received letters from Longbourn.”
With a smile that made her weak-kneed, Mr Darcy took his place beside her.
“I can understand your eagerness all too well—Georgiana practically squealed when a short missive arrived from Liverpool. It seems our cousin the colonel has finally returned from Portugal—and thankfully all in one piece.”
“That is wonderful news. And how fares Miss Darcy? I have been feeling particularly neglectful of late.” While Elizabeth was delighted to be spending so much time with her suitor, she did not wish to abandon her new friend.
“She does not hold it against you—truly—rather I think she is overjoyed by recent developments. If anyone should feel guilty, it is I, for I find I am quite greedy for your company.”
“A dangerous confession, sir,” Elizabeth declared. “However shall I use it to my advantage?”
“I am sure you will think of something,” Mr Darcy replied, with a nonchalant air over his acknowledged vulnerability. “You received only good intelligence in the post, I hope?”
“Yes—though I must admit I was expecting a summons home from my father. He does not care to go long without my company.”
“You are returning to Longbourn?” Mr Darcy asked, his disappointment plain.
“No—no, at least not yet. The state of the roads has alarmed Papa to such a degree that he does not wish to risk my travel. He writes, ‘Only the most foolhardy would agree to such a scheme.’ Apparently ‘foolhardy’ in this case applies to your friend,” Elizabeth explained with a wry smile.
“My friend? Do you mean Bingley?”
Nodding, Elizabeth continued, “Jane writes that he reopened Netherfield not long after Boxing Day—her letter was practically incandescent with joy. She was terribly hurt when Miss Bingley implied the family would not be returning to Hertfordshire. His being trapped in London by the storm only made her yet more fearful that he would quit the neighbourhood altogether.”
“Of all the ridiculous things to do,” Mr Darcy said, instantly troubling Elizabeth that he was not in favour of a match between his friend and her beloved sister. “Only a few days after Boxing Day? What was the man thinking!”
Exhaling in relief, Elizabeth asked, “So you do not disapprove of his interest in Jane?”
With a sigh, Mr Darcy reached for her hand and began playing with her fingers, his head down as he confessed, “I might have once, but if my friend is truly besotted, and your sister shares his joy, then it is not my place to come between them. I cannot, in all good conscience, pursue my own happiness with you while denying Bingley the very same pleasure.”
“Thank you for your honesty.” Elizabeth placed her hand on his cheek. “Although she does not express her feelings easily, Jane is very much in love with Mr Bingley. I do not want to see her hurt.”
Before she could move her hand away, Mr Darcy caught it and slowly placed a kiss in the centre of her palm. Heart racing wildly, Elizabeth gradually pulled back, smiling shyly.
Clearing his throat, Mr Darcy said, “Forgive my forwardness—your presence seems to rob me of all sense.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
“Well, before I become distracted once more, I have been meaning to offer you an invitation.”
“An invitation?”
“Yes, to the theatre with me, Georgiana, and of course your aunt and uncle. There is a production of Henry VIII, and as I know you to be fond of Shakespeare’s histories, I thought you might like to attend.”
“How wonderful! I do not believe we have any other engagements for the next week—and my aunt and uncle adore the theatre.”
“I shall send word to Mr Gardiner to confirm the date.”
Inspecting her appearance in the glass, Elizabeth could not help the feelings of inadequacy that washed over her.
“Lizzy, are you ready to depart? Mr Darcy’s carriage will arrive at any minute,” her aunt called as she entered the room. “You look lovely, my dear—your young man will not be able to look away. Poor Mr Darcy, for he seems to struggle with that as it is.”
At Elizabeth’s quiet laugh, her aunt became concerned. “Whatever is the matter?”
“He has seen this dress before. It is the same one I wore to the ball at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth could see comprehension settle on her aunt’s visage, for however much they avoided the topic, the fact remained that society would not expect Mr Darcy of Pemberley to arrive this evening with a poor little country miss in a reworked dress on his arm.
“Now, where is my brave Lizzy? You must remember, my dear, that while society may be ignorant of your origins, Mr Darcy is not. He chose you for the wonderful young woman that you are. Take heart—and believe your wise old aunt when I say that you are beautiful and he will be extremely proud to have you at his side!”
“You are exceptionally wise—though I quibble with the ‘old’ bit. Very well, enough of my ridiculousness. Once more unto the breach, dear friends.”
“That is Henry V—we are seeing Henry VIII.”
Laughing as they descended the stairs, Elizabeth cried, “Oh! You know what I mean!”
As her laughter subsided, Elizabeth noticed Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, and her uncle awaiting them at the bottom of the staircase. Her aunt was indeed correct, for Mr Darcy was gazing upon her in unmistakeable appreciation. After a quick bow, he walked forwards and took her hand.
“Miss Bennet, you quite take my breath away. I never had the courage to tell you how beautiful you looked in that dress at the ball, so allow me to say now that you are utterly enchanting.”
“I thank you, Mr Darcy, and may I say that you are looking rather handsome yourself.”
Her spirits thoroughly revived, Elizabeth took his proffered arm as they embarked on the delights of the evening ahead. The carriage ride to the theatre passed quickly with such congenial companions, and before she knew it, she was ascending the stairs at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.
With Elizabeth on one arm and Miss Darcy on the other, Mr Darcy greeted various acquaintances as they made their way towards his family’s box. Just as they reached their destination, another salutation reached Elizabeth’s ears.
“Why, Mr Darcy, what a surprise to see you here! Surely you remember my daughter, Prudence?”
Surprised by the flicker of distaste that graced Mr Darcy’s visage, Elizabeth awaited the introduction with a fair amount of curiosity.
“Of course, my lord, Miss Lake.”
After they were all properly introduced to Viscount Lake and his daughter, Elizabeth could not help but notice the viscount’s obvious displeasure at her close proximity to Mr Darcy.
“I was disappointed when you did not join us at the club. Your uncle was confident we could form an advantageous alliance,” he explained with a pointed look at his simpering daughter.
Elizabeth watched the scene with some disquiet, especially as the lady in question cast several coquettish looks in Mr Darcy’s direction.
“You must forgive me, but I have no notion of what you speak. But excuse me—as the performance is about to begin, I would like to show my party to our seats.”
For once, Elizabeth could well understand the haughty demeanour in the gentleman at her side.
Adopting a similarly composed mien, Elizabeth politely farewelled the viscount and his daughter as Mr Darcy led her into his private box.
Once they took their seats, he turned to her with a look of contrition.
“I apologise for that—he is an ally of my uncle’s, and clearly the earl has been making promises that were not his to give.”
“I am not offended. It must be frustrating to be the object of so much speculation.”
“Yes, well—it is my hope that the speculation will soon come to an end,” he replied with a meaningful look.
Blushing at the confirmation of his intentions, Elizabeth turned to the stage as the opening scene commenced.
Although the production was excellent, as the play progressed, Elizabeth found herself ever more distracted by the gentleman in the next seat.
Occasionally his hand would brush hers—an intentional action that produced an increasing giddiness Elizabeth was unable to contain.
By the time the interval began, Elizabeth was thoroughly discomposed, so in order to save her dignity she agreed to accompany Miss Darcy to the retiring room whilst Mr Darcy and her uncle fetched them all glasses of punch.
Waiting on Miss Darcy to join her in returning to the box, Elizabeth was arrested by the sound of her own name coming from just around the curtain.
“Who is this Miss Bennet? Mr Darcy must be going blind, for I cannot imagine what he sees in her. Her dress must be at least two seasons old!”
“What does it matter to you, Prudence? While your father may have promised you the match, Mr Darcy was certainly never keen. Besides, if he wishes to attach himself to such an unfashionable little thing, who are we to stop him? Apparently, there is no accounting for taste.”
Reeling from such unpleasantness, Elizabeth was grateful when Miss Darcy announced she was ready to depart.
“Are you quite well?” the girl enquired.
Schooling her features, Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. “Of course. Let us return before your brother believes us to be lost and sends out a detachment of footmen intent upon our rescue.”
Darcy could not help his concern, for Elizabeth’s bearing and spirits had somehow dimmed since the play had recommenced. Had something happened during the interval? Georgiana seemed perfectly well, so what could it be?
Trying to focus once again on the performance, Darcy was caught by the words of the actor portraying Cardinal Wolsey.
“This is the state of man: today he puts forth the tender leaves of hope, tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a FROST, a killing frost: And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely his greatness is a ripening, nips his root, And then he falls.”
Before Elizabeth, Darcy had been so sure of himself—of his affluence and his place in the world, yet truly he had been moving towards a wretched fall.
Strangely enough, it had been a frost—a frost that instead of destroying him had ultimately saved him by granting him a second chance with the woman he had come to ardently love.
Unable to wait another moment, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and took her hand as he whispered, “Come outside with me?”
Despite her obvious confusion, Elizabeth nodded and followed him just beyond the curtain.
“I know this is entirely improper, but I simply cannot wait any longer. I love you, Elizabeth. I can barely breathe but for thoughts of you. Please say that you are not unaffected? That you will make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?”
Speechless, Elizabeth slowly began to smile until she was positively beaming with delight, happy tears gathering in her luminous eyes as she eventually found her voice and replied, “Yes. I—my love—yes! You have made me so very happy!”
Elated with equal parts joy and relief, Darcy pulled an object from his pocket with a mischievous grin.
“Before I left the house, I plucked this from one of the boughs you created with Georgiana—she caught me at it, too. I do believe I afforded her a considerable amount of amusement if her laughter was anything to go by.”
As he held out the small sprig of white berries to his newly betrothed, he was thrilled to observe her amused smirk.
“It would be bad luck not to use it now—a poor way to begin an engagement.”
“A poor way indeed,” Darcy replied before pulling Elizabeth into his arms and kissing her soundly.