Chapter 33 #2
“In every way, sir!” she cried in frustration.
“Mr Darcy happened upon me last summer in Lambton after I had read Jane’s letter—the very letter that bore the most wretched news from home.
My uncle took me to Longbourn, but Mr Darcy took it upon himself to leave Derbyshire—to leave his guests and his own sister to go to London to search for mine.
“It was Mr Darcy who canvassed the most disreputable neighbourhoods and discovered them. It was Mr Darcy who met with them repeatedly, worked on Mr Wickham, and ultimately paid him an exorbitant price to marry Lydia. He attended their wedding! You yourself professed that Mr Wickham would have been a fool to take her for less than ten thousand pounds. That is Mr Darcy’s income for an entire year, yet he spent such a sum upon an impulsive, thoughtless, ridiculous girl he can neither esteem nor respect, and whose behaviour has not altered since!
Had it not been for Mr Darcy, sir, we all would have been ruined!
Jane would not be married to Mr Bingley, and Mr Darcy certainly could never have proposed to me. ”
Mr Bennet stared at her in shock. “Is this the reason you agreed to marry him, Lizzy?” he said with some distress. “Is this why you accepted him? Because we owe him a debt we cannot possibly repay? Did he press you into this marriage?”
Her father’s accusations pained and angered her, and Elizabeth struggled to rein in her temper.
“Of course, not,” she told him tersely. “Mr Darcy would never press me to do anything I did not desire myself, nor does he expect so much as a shilling in compensation for his troubles. I had no idea of his involvement when I accepted his proposal. He neither intended nor wished for me to ever learn of it and was very upset to discover that I had.”
Unable to sit still a moment longer, she rose and paced to the window, to the hearth, and back again.
She would remain mistress of herself. She would not lose her temper.
Drawing a fortifying breath, Elizabeth smoothed her skirts and reclaimed her chair.
As composedly as possible, she told her father, “I accepted Mr Darcy based upon what I have come to know of his excellent character, his honourable nature, and his kindness. I accepted him because I have come to love him. There is no other gentleman of my acquaintance whom I respect and esteem more highly. He has no improper pride and is perfectly suited to me in understanding, taste, and temperament. Truly, Mr Darcy is the only gentleman I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”
Mr Bennet ran a hand across his mouth.
Though he was clearly agitated, Elizabeth was gratified to see he also appeared contrite; but his contrition did little to assuage her disappointment in him, nor ease the distress induced by his words.
He reached for her hand and clasped it tightly.
Elizabeth turned her head aside, determined not to give way to tears.
“I am sorry, Lizzy—exceedingly sorry,” said her father solemnly as he pressed her hand.
“I did not mean to imply your Mr Darcy is not a good man. I knew he was honourable when he came to me to ask for my blessing. I would not have given it otherwise. Nor did I mean to imply you accepted him out of duty. It appears I have become a jaded old man who knows not what he says.”
A lump had formed in her throat. She swallowed it with some effort and said, “You accused Mr Darcy of having his way in all things. I can assure you, he does not. He has suffered the loss of both parents, assumed the responsibility of raising a sister more than ten years his junior, and has undertaken the management of a vast estate, all before the age of three-and-twenty. He has known disappointment. You did him a disservice when you implied otherwise, and you pained me by speaking of him in such terms.”
“That was not my intent, Lizzy, truly.”
Elizabeth made no reply, and after a moment of stilted silence Mr Bennet sighed. “So, your heart is set on going to Pemberley, then.”
“It is, and before you enquire whether I am merely placating Mr Darcy, I am not. Pemberley is more than a fine estate with picturesque grounds. It is to be my home. It is where Mr Darcy and I came to have a better understanding of each other. It is where I first saw evidence of the man he truly is, not the man I had so unjustly perceived him to be in Hertfordshire. At Pemberley, we became friends. It is only fitting for us to become husband and wife there as well.”
“You need say nothing more. I am convinced. If Pemberley is where you wish to marry your Mr Darcy, then to Pemberley we shall go. I would not like to see you unhappy, my dear. I will write to your mother this morning and break the news to her. Until some other gentlemen come for Mary and Kitty, she will have to be satisfied with Jane.”
Elizabeth’s smile, though slight, was genuine. She squeezed his hand, rose from her chair, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”
When Darcy arrived in Gracechurch Street that evening Elizabeth met him at the door with a small, private turn of her mouth. Before he could so much as bid her hello, she placed her finger upon his lips, took him by the hand, and led him to a secluded little parlour at the back of the house.
“I do not believe I have ever been in this room,” he told her, pleased that she had thought to steal him away before her family learned of his arrival.
The parlour was sparsely furnished, dimly lit, and colder than the rest of the house, despite the soft glow of coals in the grate; but Darcy had no complaints, not when she was looking at him with such warmth.
“It is rarely used,” Elizabeth replied, cradling his hand in hers.
“Even so, I am glad of its existence, since it enables me to have a few minutes alone with you.”
With measured deliberation, she traced her fingertips along his palm, from the base of his wrist to the tips of his fingers.
One lone curl had slipped free of its pins to caress the side of her face and her lashes rested upon her cheeks—two smudges of inky black against her ivory skin.
Darcy felt his heart constrict. She was utterly beautiful, and she was his.
Neither spoke as Elizabeth repeated her ministrations again and again.
With each pass of her fingertips along his hand her featherlight touch became lighter, more languorous, and more tantalising.
Eventually, Darcy’s eyelids drifted closed.
The urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless was currently at war with his determination to remain a gentleman.
He reminded himself they were in her uncle’s house, surrounded by countless members of her family.
Surely, her father would not look kindly upon him if he were to catch them in an amorous embrace.
While most fathers would likely demand an expedient marriage in the event of such impropriety, Mr Bennet was not like most fathers.
Darcy suspected Longbourn’s master would not only suggest a longer engagement but would receive immeasurable amusement in seeing his future son-in-law suffer.
“Hello, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth.
Her voice was pitched low, and, in her tone, Darcy could hear evidence of her smile. His lips turned upward in response as he opened his eyes. Sure enough, Elizabeth regarded him with a teasing curve of her mouth and eyes that sparkled with mischief. She appeared inordinately pleased with herself.
Closing the distance between them, he captured her hands and brought first one, and then the other to his lips.
He turned them over and pressed a series of soft, lingering kisses along each palm.
“Hello, Miss Bennet,” he murmured, moving his mouth to her wrist, brazenly tasting the salt of her skin and something sweeter; something that was uniquely her.
Her eyes darkened, her breath quickened, and Darcy’s heart swelled with satisfaction.
That his Elizabeth was so responsive to him was a gift he would cherish until the day he died.
Every ardent look, every intimate caress of hands, every sound of encouragement from her lips; nothing was sweeter than knowing she not only loved him but desired him as her lover.
Beyond the parlour, the reality of the outside world intruded—the sounds of servants going about their respective tasks, relations engaged in conversation, and children giddy with laughter.
The door to the parlour was wide open, and Darcy sighed his frustration.
It was neither the time nor the place for such intimacy.
Realising he and Elizabeth would likely have no time alone together once they left the room, he laid his forehead against hers for a moment, then gently kissed her lips, and straightened. “How was your day, my dearest?”
Her voice sounded endearingly uneven as she said, “My morning was surprisingly productive. I went shopping with Jane and Aunt Gardiner. I also spoke with my father.”
“I trust your conversation was a pleasant one?”
“Not all of it, not initially. But in the end, I was appeased.”
Darcy regarded her curiously. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.”
She bit her lip, and Darcy could see she was holding back a smile. “My father would like to know when you desire to leave for Derbyshire so that he might make the proper arrangements to follow us with the rest of my family.”
Darcy stared at her, too surprised to credit what he had heard. “Your father approves? He is in favour of our marrying at Pemberley?”
“Not at first, but he was soon persuaded to see reason and has since written to my mother. His letter was sent this morning by express.”
A slow smile brightened his countenance. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Certainly not for me, but I believe we must take into consideration that we are not the only ones travelling to Derbyshire, sir. While I could happily make do with wearing sackcloth at this point, I fear my sisters and our aunts would appreciate at least a few days’ advance notice to prepare for the journey. ”
“Perhaps by the end of the week, then.”
“Perhaps,” she said archly.
He rewarded her with a kiss—a tender press of lips, deliberate, lingering, and warm—and grinned.
Comprehending his pleasure, Elizabeth laughed and kissed him again.
After they had dined and the gentlemen had separated from the ladies, Darcy approached Mr Bennet. “I wish to thank you, sir, for consenting to come to Derbyshire. It means very much to both Elizabeth and me to be able to marry at Pemberley.”
“Think nothing of it,” his future father-in-law said, taking a sip of port.
“My daughter was quite adamant about the event taking place at your home. There was nothing for it but to give the scheme my blessing. She has had enough distress of late. Lydia’s foibles have done nothing but bring misery upon us, and to Elizabeth and Jane in particular.
” Mr Bennet bowed his head. “I understand,” he said quietly, “that my family and I owe you a debt of gratitude. I would like to pay you back if I may.”
Darcy felt a flush of heat rise along the back of his neck. So, this was how Elizabeth convinced her father to oblige us.
“Do not blame Elizabeth,” said her father. “It was only after I had antagonised her quite thoroughly that she revealed your involvement to me in a fit of temper. I believe she would have remained as silent as the grave otherwise.”
Darcy raised his glass to his lips. “That is not necessary. I did not do it to garner your approbation, nor your thanks, but to right a wrong. Had I but revealed my knowledge of Wickham’s habits to the world in the first place, many good people would have been spared much anguish and hardship, your family included.
You owe me nothing, not even your thanks. ”
“Even so, sir, you have it all the same.”
They stood in silence for several moments, until Mr Bennet enquired when Darcy anticipated leaving for Derbyshire.
“As soon as Elizabeth informs me that she is ready to depart. Perhaps by the end of the week or the beginning of the next if the weather allows for the journey.” A thought occurred to him.
“I understand you intend to return to Longbourn to travel to Derbyshire with the rest of your family, but I would like to propose a slightly different arrangement, if you would be so good as to hear it.”
The elder man raised his brows. “Speak on, Mr Darcy. Any suggestion you have to offer on the subject of sparing me a three-day journey confined to a coach with my wife, her nerves, and my three silliest daughters will be most welcome.”
Darcy pursed his lips. The man could be truly awful regarding his family, but Elizabeth loved him, and her father’s good opinion was important to her. It was for her sake he ignored Mr Bennet’s flippancy and said, “This is what I am thinking…”