Chapter 20
Darcy was happier than he had been in years, possibly since before his father’s death.
It was due to Elizabeth; she had captured his heart and made him reexamine so many of his views, notably on what he wanted his future to be like.
What a fool he had been to believe he was confined to the expectations of previous generations, of a society that valued wealth and social position above all else!
To be sure, these still mattered to him, but not in the sense of always needing more—not when attaining it meant giving up on marrying the lady he loved and who would make his life a grand, joy-filled affair.
It was not as though choosing her meant his children’s futures would be lessened; indeed, they would thrive by having her as their mother and growing up in an atmosphere of family harmony, and one in which they were all dedicated to each other’s well-being.
In short, Darcy was determined to win Elizabeth’s heart and promise to be his wife.
In the days that followed their visit to the British Museum, everything seemed to be going exceptionally well.
He saw Elizabeth often, usually in company with his cousins and Miss Strachan, and occasionally with Georgiana.
The ladies called on his sister, and to his delight, she was becoming more confident with newer acquaintances and, according to Mrs Annesley, increasingly at ease and happy.
Darcy was virtually certain Elizabeth’s feelings for him were more than those of a friend, although he was not yet confident they were as deep as his for her.
“As long as we continue along the path to where I wish us to be, it does not much matter,” he told his reflection one morning as he was preparing to call on her and Mrs Ryde with Georgiana.
“Why should we rush, other than my desire to claim her as my own to the world?” After all, it was barely a month ago that they had met again after their less than friendly parting in Dublin, and they would both be in town for another four or five weeks.
It gave him ample time to show her he was the perfect gentleman for her.
In addition to his contentment, Darcy was pleased for Bramwell, who reported success in his pursuit of Rebecca.
“I am much mistaken if she does not like me very well,” his cousin had said one afternoon when the two of them and Fitzwilliam were partaking of a post-ride light meal at Darcy’s townhouse. “Indeed, I believe she is madly in love with me, even if she does not want to admit it so soon.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam exchanged a look, the latter rolling his eyes. Bramwell’s tone was joking, but they had both witnessed the growing accord between the couple. In Darcy’s opinion, the viscount should feel optimistic, even if Rebecca was not yet ‘madly in love’.
“I thank you, my dear cousin and brother, for assisting me,” Bramwell continued, his manner still light-hearted. “You know what I mean. Coming along as we amuse ourselves, distracting Miss Bennet and Miss Strachan. When either of you find your lady, I promise to return the favour.”
“You suppose we have not,” Fitzwilliam said.
Darcy, conscious of having done just that, all but gaped at him.
Bramwell kept hinting that he had noticed his interest in Elizabeth—which Darcy refused to confirm—but had the colonel?
It was not a secret, and if he was going to confide in anyone, it would be the brothers, but he had not changed his mind about keeping his hopes to himself, possibly until he had proposed and been accepted.
“Well, not entirely, but have you?” the viscount said, the emphasis on the final word—directed at his brother—adding doubt to what exactly he meant.
Maybe it would be better if I told them about my intentions, he thought for the first time.
He had no doubt they would give their support to the match, and it might be better to gain it at once, just as Bramwell had done regarding Rebecca.
His cousins continued to chat, but he overlooked their conversation in favour of thinking about Elizabeth, finally deciding he would feel awkward suddenly announcing that he was attempting to make her love him.
“I am not in a rush to propose, regardless of my confidence in her sentiments.” Bramwell’s words pulled Darcy from his reflections. “But I intend to begin 1812 an engaged man.”
And, God willing, so will I!
It was the nineteenth of November, a fine mid-autumn day, and Darcy was at Grosvenor Square, calling on the countess.
He happened to have known that Mrs Ryde and Elizabeth would be there, along with Rebecca and her mother.
Georgiana had accompanied him, and—to no surprise—Bramwell was present as well.
It gladdened him to see how well his family liked Elizabeth; even Lady Romsley was friendly towards her.
They were currently discussing the plans for the luncheon to commemorate his sister’s birthday, which was the coming Friday. The party would be on Thursday.
“It is not too late to invite more people, if you wish,” Mrs Darcy said to Georgiana, who shook her head.
“Thank you, but I am satisfied with those we have already discussed,” she said. “My three friends from school, Rebecca, Miss Bennet, and Miss Strachan are enough.”
“If you are worried about causing me too much work, do not be,” his aunt insisted.
Again, Georgiana shook her head; she also smiled. “There really are no other ladies I want to be there.”
“And you will have another opportunity to celebrate your birthday with more of your family,” Lady Romsley said.
“When we have dinner together the next day. I thank you, for leaving our niece’s actual birthday open for the family party,” she added to Mrs Darcy.
The ladies had not wanted both the luncheon and dinner to be on the same day, although Darcy was not sure it mattered all that much.
Aunt Darcy inclined her head at the countess’s expression of gratitude, and said, “My only interest is in ensuring Georgiana has a splendid sixteenth birthday. I can hardly believe it has come around so quickly.”
His eyes met Elizabeth’s, and he saw humour in them; likely she was thinking as he was that older people always made such comments. Would they, when they were discussing their children in the future?
Lady Romsley turned to Mrs Ryde and Elizabeth. “I am very glad you are both able to join us. It has been wonderful being able to see more of you”—this was to Mrs Ryde—“and to make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet. I am pleased to know my niece has such a charming new friend.”
“Thank you, your ladyship,” Elizabeth said. “I, too, am pleased to make such a charming new friend and am very happy to celebrate her birthday with her.”
Again, her eyes briefly met his, but she was sure to give her attention to the those who were speaking.
“I have said it before, and I shall say it again, I cannot do without her,” Mrs Ryde said, referring to Elizabeth. “I acknowledge that her family deserves some of her time, but I must be growing more self-centred with age, because I care less about that and more about what I want.”
Elizabeth laughed, as did his aunts and Georgiana. Bramwell and Rebecca were having their own conversation.
“I shall endeavour to divide my time between everyone who wants part of it,” Elizabeth said.
“You know how much I like to be here with you, and I estimate we have at least another fortnight before my father writes to urge me to return to Longbourn. Since he dislikes writing letters, it will be an indication that I shall have to leave you soon.”
“As long as you agree to return before long,” Mrs Ryde said.
“You will have to give her up once she finds a husband,” Lady Romsley told her.
“No gentleman is good enough for her,” the other lady insisted.
Mrs Darcy chuckled. “You might as well be her mother, saying such a thing. As much as I know my children must grow up and establish their own families, I hate to think that they are old enough to leave my care.”
“And we must all accept that, no matter who our children decide to marry, no matter how admirable they are or how much joy they bring to our children’s lives, part of us will always wonder if they are worthy of our dear ones,” the countess concluded.
Yet again, and to his delight, Elizabeth glanced his way. Her cheeks were pink, and he took it as a sign that she was harbouring a secret longing for him, just as he was for her. Before she returned to Longbourn, he would propose.
A short while later, and as he was chatting with Elizabeth about the books they were reading, the door to the drawing room opened, and much to his astonishment, Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered, along with her daughter, Anne; trailing meekly behind them was his cousin’s companion, Mrs Jenkinson.
The butler nodded, the gesture seeming both polite and apologetic, before withdrawing.
Knowing Lady Catherine, she had refused to wait while he informed the countess her sister-in-law was there.
“Catherine!” Lady Romsley exclaimed. “This is a surprise. Why did you not send notice that you were coming?”
Lady Catherine’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on him and then Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing. At length, she said, “I did not believe it necessary. This is the house in which I grew up.”
Because the townhouse and Romsley Hall had once been her father’s, she felt she had a right to treat them as her home still. It vexed the earl and countess, Darcy knew, just as he knew that Lady Catherine was the most stubborn person he had ever met.
“It is rather helpful, however, as I and your brother have told you before. At the very least, I would have had rooms prepared for you,” Lady Romsley said. “How long are you staying?”
Lady Catherine’s brow arched, and he had the impression she wanted to say, ‘As long as I like’.
Instead, she said, “You should have known Anne and I would want to be here to celebrate Georgiana’s birthday.
Who has a greater right than us? We are her closest relations, and Anne is very nearly her sister.
Besides, Anne needs new clothes. We shall be attending Sir Walter and Lady Todd’s ball, as I assume you are.
It is time for my daughter to take her proper place in society.
Who are these people?” She gestured to the other occupants in the room.
Darcy watched as the countess’s expression briefly hardened before it eased into a polite yet formal one.
“You cannot have forgot Mrs Darcy or Mrs Ryde. Since it has likely been some time since you last saw her, you might not recognise Miss Rebecca Darcy.” She indicated his cousin, who was beside Bramwell; she curtseyed.
“And this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who is spending the autumn with Mrs Ryde.”
Lady Catherine’s attention returned to him and Elizabeth, who curtseyed. Neither Lady Catherine nor Anne did much to acknowledge Elizabeth, and it was difficult for him not to demand they remember their manners.
Mrs Ryde stood. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh.” Turning to the countess, she added, “I believe Lizzy and I should go. You will want to see your guests settled.”
“Rebecca and I as well,” Aunt Darcy said.
“I regret your visits must end so abruptly,” Lady Romsley said. Left unspoken was that it was due to Lady Catherine’s rudeness. “But the girls will see each other soon, and we shall all meet again here on the twenty-second.”
Predictably, Lady Catherine demanded to know what she meant, and when the countess explained, she said, “Anne will naturally attend the luncheon. I am pleased to know you have already considered how to mark my niece’s birthday properly.”
Darcy wanted to scoff. His aunt and cousin de Bourgh had never made an effort to be with Georgiana on her birthday before.
Even standing a dozen feet from Lady Romsley, he could see that she was clenching her jaw muscles.
He expected that she would have words with her sister-in-law once they were alone.
Everyone hastened to depart. Having little choice, his aunt Darcy said that Anne was ‘of course’ welcome at the luncheon, although no one seemed enthusiastic about the prospect, including Anne, who remained silent, as was her custom.
Darcy exchanged no more words with Elizabeth, but he did his best to give her a reassuring and apologetic look before they went their separate ways.