Chapter 6 At Last! Friday #2
“I suppose it is good to know you do not say such things when you are in a good mood.” He nearly rolled his eyes and she added, “Thank you. Apology accepted.”
He looked around, not knowing what to say, when a loud grumble reached his ears. Elizabeth looked up at him with red cheeks and a chagrined expression.
“Was that your stomach?”
The growling was louder now and she closed her eyes in mortification. “Yes. I have not eaten since tea yesterday.”
“Do not let me keep you from your meal, Miss Bennet.”
He gestured to the bundle of muffins and she smiled sheepishly before taking a bite. She made quick work of the first muffin and was soon on her second. He joined her on the bench and took a bite of his own, chewing slowly as they watched the brook flow smoothly past.
“I say, this muffin is uncommonly good.”
“I know! Mrs. Hopkins is a village woman Charlotte has convinced to cook at the parsonage for her. I believe she is worth every penny.”
He nodded, taking another large bite.
“I shall get the receipt from her before I travel home. Would you like me to pass it on to you?” she asked.
He turned to meet her eyes and she flushed, seeing in his that if she had the receipt, he would not need it, for he wished her home and his to be one and the same.
She briefly wondered how one could tell so much from only a look, but then his hand was on her cheek, tucking a curl behind her ear, and her breath became shaky.
“I like you very much, Elizabeth,” he whispered.
She swallowed. “I see that.”
He tilted his head and considered her for a moment, then said, “I would like to court you.”
“What?”
“I would like to court you—call on you, go for walks, tell you how enchanting you are to see your blushes—”
It was maddening that she blushed when he said this.
“—and when you are ready, make my proposals.”
She swallowed again and looked down, then back up tentatively. “Is that what you were going to do last night? Make your proposals?”
He considered her for a moment, then said, “Yes. I spoke with my cousin when I returned to Rosings and he convinced me you were not ready to hear what I wished to say. He also told me that I had done a poor job of courting you if you did not even realize it was happening and berated me soundly.”
She chuckled. “I certainly did not realize it. Were you courting me?”
“I do not know that I thought of it in those terms, but I was paying you a great deal of attention.”
Her face expressed her doubt at this assertion, but she refrained from speaking it. “So you are asking to court me now?”
“Yes.”
“How do you imagine this courtship will proceed?”
“Well, I thought we could continue as we are here in Kent, only now you would know that when I join you on your walks, it is because I wish to see you.”
She smiled self-consciously and he continued. “I imagine your friend Mrs. Collins might be of some assistance. She seems a discerning woman.”
“She is.”
He nodded. “Then I thought I might escort you to Town and call on you at your relations there.”
“I am only due to be in London one week before returning to Hertfordshire. Will you call on me at Longbourn?”
She tensed as she awaited his answer. Calling on Longbourn would not be pleasant—her mother would be vulgar and loud, fussing over him when he was present and crowing about him when he was not.
She did not truly wish for him to call on her there, but she did want him to be willing to do so if it were necessary.
“If that is where you will be, that is where I will go.” He spoke firmly, with no doubt in his words or their implications, and Elizabeth could not help smiling brightly at him. “Does this please you?”
“It does. Though this is all very strange. Yesterday morning I hadn’t the slightest idea this would be happening.”
“Is the surprise unwelcome?”
She thought for a moment, her head tilted prettily to one side, surprised at herself that she was enjoying Mr. Darcy’s attentions.
He was far from being a favorite, but once she had realized he was not the villain she had thought him, she was free to see his good qualities, and she could admit that he did in fact have some.
He was proving delightful to flirt with, though she would not acknowledge that she was flirting with him.
But he did seem to adore her rather intently, and he was such a man.
He was not the sort to say such things to every woman he came across.
He was fastidious; exacting; scrupulous.
And he wanted her.
“No, it is not unwelcome,” she replied, her voice soft.
He released a sigh and took her hand in his. “So I may call on you? I may court you?”
She sat up straighter and looked him in the eyes, her hand squeezing his tightly. She must not be swept up in the moment. She must think. “I must ask you something first.”
“Very well.”
“Last autumn, did Mr. Bingley care for Jane? Or was he merely amusing himself while in the country?”
Darcy looked uneasy. “He did care for her, yes.”
“And was it his idea not to return to Hertfordshire?”
“No, it was not. Though he did agree to it. Eventually.” He was nearly squirming he was so uncomfortable, but he could not pace away as he would wish for Elizabeth was still holding his hand.
Elizabeth looked down, her shoulders slumping in her disappointment. “Was it by your design? Did you persuade him?”
Her hand had gone lax in his and he anxiously pulled it to him and covered it with his free hand. “Elizabeth, I wish to be honest with you. Please hear me out, dearest.”
“Very well.”
He told her Miss Bingley had orchestrated the plan, but he had agreed to speak with Bingley.
He had watched Jane at the Netherfield ball and she had seemed pleased enough with his friend, but not particularly in love.
This was why he had agreed to speak to Bingley.
His had been the opinion that swayed his friend, for Bingley did not have much faith in his own powers of observation.
He had been led astray before and he trusted Darcy implicitly.
Darcy had not liked to do it, but he had concealed Jane’s presence in London from Bingley for fear his friend was not yet over her.
Elizabeth’s heart sank further with each word he uttered.
She was fighting tears and trembling slightly, angry and sad and disappointed.
She felt a fool for thinking for even a moment that she had been wrong about Mr. Darcy—that he was not nearly as bad as she had thought him and was in fact a lovely man who might very well make a wonderful husband.
She let him hold her hand and call her dearest!
She had been caught up in the romance of the moment.
How silly she was! She was no better than na?ve Lydia or Kitty!
She tugged her hand from his and turned away, sniffling into a handkerchief. “Thank you for explaining your role in my sister’s heartbreak, Mr. Darcy. I appreciate your candor. Good morning.” She stood from the bench and turned to go.
“Wait!” He grabbed her arm. “Do not go. We can discuss this.”
She looked at him sadly. “What is there to discuss? How could I even consider courting the man who has had a hand in ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes and it was his undoing. “Elizabeth, my love, please, stay and talk with me. Surely we can do something!”
His voice cracked in desperation and she felt her resolve slipping. This was Mr. Darcy. The most staid and stoic man of her acquaintance, begging her to speak with him, to allow him a chance to win her. She felt her reservations crumbling, and something inside her becoming soft and open to him.
“Very well. We may talk. But I make no promises,” she added with a stern glare.
“I understand.”
She took a deep breath and perched on the edge of the stone bench, her eyes on the brook.
“Do you believe your sister is still in love with Mr. Bingley?”
“I should not bandy about her personal matters, but yes, I believe she is. She has tried to overcome her feelings, and she has tried to convince me she has been successful, but I know her too well to miss the melancholy notes in her letters. She is pining, but she will not admit it. She feels a fool for loving a man who only ever viewed her as a friendly acquaintance—not even enough of a friend to say goodbye to when he left the neighborhood.”
Darcy winced, feeling all the reproach in her tone. “You are right—it was very badly done. At the very least, Bingley should have farewelled the neighborhood. And he would have, if we had not followed him to London.”
Elizabeth nodded. He could admit when he was wrong. That was something at least.
“I believe Bingley still thinks of Miss Bennet.”
Her head whipped towards him. “Truly?”
“Yes. He has been melancholy these last months. He tries to hide it, but I know him well.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you certain Jane is the cause of his ennui?”
“I believe she is. He speaks of her occasionally and is always wistful afterward.”
“What are you getting at, Mr. Darcy?”
“I propose I speak to Bingley. If he is in fact still enamored of your sister, we bring them together. I will confess my mistake and let him know Miss Bennet would welcome a visit. The rest will be up to him.”
“That seems deceptively simple.”
He shrugged. “It could be quickly done. I can send him an express today.”
She looked at him speculatively. “Are you doing this to please me or because it is the right thing to do?”
“Might I not wish to do both?”
“You certainly may, but I would be much prouder of you if you wished to do right even if there were no gain to yourself.”
His eyes took on a new glow as he looked at her. “You have my word as a gentleman that I will make things right with Bingley, even if you never wish to see me again.”
She was tempted to tease him, but something in his gaze held her back.
“Very well. Send the letter to Bingley. I shall meet you here tomorrow.”
With that, she was up and walking away from him at a quick pace.