Chapter Twenty-Six
Longbourn
Darcy
The morning sun fell softly upon the windows of Mr. Bennet’s study. He looked up from his desk to find Darcy standing at the threshold, composed yet visibly resolute.
“You asked to speak with me, sir?” Mr. Bennet prompted, setting his spectacles aside.
Darcy stepped forward, posture as upright as ever, yet his address was more earnest than Mr. Bennet had ever heard from him.
“I am come, sir, to request your consent to marry your daughter, Elizabeth.”
The words hung in the air. Mr. Bennet gestured to the chair opposite; his surprise was plain. “Sit down, Mr. Darcy; let us talk as men.”
“Pray call me Darcy, sir.”
”And I am Bennet.”
Darcy took a seat, clasping his hands before him.
“You must know, Darcy,” Mr. Bennet began, studying him closely, “that Lizzy is very dear to me. She is headstrong, opinionated, and entirely too clever for her own good. But she is also tender-hearted, fiercely loyal, and deserving of a husband who sees her worth—not as a possession, but as a partner.”
“I know it well.” Darcy‘s manner was firm. “And I cherish every one of those qualities. She has altered my very course in life. I came to Hertfordshire proud and blind. It was she who opened my eyes—and my heart.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back, folding his arms. “What of your family? The ton is not always kind to those they deem beneath them. How do you intend to shield her from the inevitable disdain?”
His regard was unwavering. “I will love Elizabeth with all that I am. That love will be her armor. My family may disapprove, society may scoff, yet I shall stand firm. She will be mistress of Pemberley, and no one—no one—will ever make her feel unworthy.”
Silence settled between them as Mr. Bennet studied the young man. At length, the stern cast of his countenance yielded, a smile suffusing his countenance with paternal joy.
“I had wondered if any man might truly deserve her. His words trembled with feeling. “But now I find that I could not part with my Lizzy to anyone less worthy, sir.”
Darcy exhaled, the tightness in his shoulders easing. “Thank you, Bennet. You have gifted me my heart’s greatest desire, sir.”
Mr. Bennet’s chuckle held both fondness and resignation. “She is full of surprises, my Lizzy. I suspect you will never be bored.”
Joy broke through his reserve, and a true smile spread across his face, unguarded and bright. “I should hope not.”
As he rose, Mr. Bennet followed and extended his hand. “Welcome to the family, Darcy. Heaven help you.”
He clasped the offered hand with contained pride. “And heaven bless us all.”
He made to depart.
“Send Lizzy in, will you? I wish to speak with her.”
Elizabeth
Elizabeth entered her father’s study smiling, the promise of her future shining in her eyes. He gestured to the chair Darcy had so lately occupied, and she sat, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
Her father regarded her carefully, his features unreadable.
“So,” he began, drawing out the word, “Darcy has just left my study after a rather earnest appeal. He wishes to marry you.”
“Yes, Papa.”
He leaned forward. “You are determined to accept him?”
“I am.”
He rose and moved toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He stood in thoughtful silence before speaking again.
“I must confess, I once thought him the proudest, most disagreeable man I had ever met. I disliked him greatly. But he has changed; anyone can see it. He was not always kind in his manner, Lizzy, and I know too well what can happen when respect between husband and wife is lost.”
He turned and faced her, his eyes gentle but searching. “Are you certain, my dear? Truly certain? Marriage is a long journey. You must be very sure of your heart and your regard.”
Elizabeth rose and came to stand beside him.
“I am sure, Papa. He is no longer the man we first thought him to be—he is better. Darcy is generous and principled, and above all, he is kind. He wooed me not with grand speeches or flattery, but with care and understanding. I found myself in the middle of it before I knew what had happened. And now I love him with my whole heart.”
Mr. Bennet studied her for a long moment; then the sternness of his countenance gave way to tenderness.
“Then I am satisfied. And I dare say, you may yet prove that a sensible man with a good fortune is not always so rare a find.”
Elizabeth laughed and hugged him tightly, and Mr. Bennet, blinking back the tide of feeling that pressed too near, held her as though he knew she would not be his much longer.
“Shall we delay telling your mama? If she is informed now, she will have half the neighborhood invited to dine before the day is out. Perhaps Mr. Long can be persuaded to allow the announcement this evening, when her triumph may be shared with the largest audience possible.”
“That suits me perfectly, Papa.”
“Off with you, then. Go to your betrothed.”
She did as she was bid, eager to be with Darcy once more.
Darcy
The drawing room at Purvis Lodge glittered with light and laughter as the Longs hosted the annual Twelfth Night gathering. The guests were resplendent; the fire crackled merrily, and the fragrance of wassail and roasted chestnuts lingered in the air.
Darcy stood near the hearth, surveying the company with composed interest until Bingley leaned close and muttered, “I declare, I have quite had my fill of holiday events. Who knew the Hertfordshire countryside would be as busy as town?”
“Yet none in town offer such lively company.”
Then she entered—Elizabeth, radiant in a gown of cream and blue, sapphire pins glinting like starlight in her hair.
The pearl necklace lay gracefully about her neck, the embroidered shawl draped over her arms, and the evening gloves fitted her hands with elegance.
A selection from nearly every gift he had given her was on display.
He crossed the room and bowed. “The sapphires suit you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “As well they should. I am told they were chosen by someone with exceptional taste.”
“You are remarkably composed.” He drew nearer, unable to resist.
“Someone has been sending me rather romantic tokens. It flaunts propriety, I dare say, but I cannot refuse them. It would be a slight to the gentleman who chose them with such care.”
Their eyes met, and for an instant, the very air seemed suspended about him.
“That would not do at all. No, you had much better flaunt propriety. Causing offense is best avoided.”
Her laugh was low and merry. “Very well, sir, I shall do as you suggest.” She paused. “I was right to conceal them before. Lydia remarked upon my pins and shawl the moment I stepped into the drawing room before we departed.”
“Did she? You know your sister very well, then. Did your mother have anything to say?” He guided Elizabeth’s hand through his arm, intent on keeping her close all evening.
“She did not. Mama told Lydia to cease her complaints and prepare to depart. Kitty wisely kept silent, though she examined my attire more closely before we boarded the carriage.”
“I am pleased you managed to reach the gathering without conflict.” Darcy regarded her with wonder, marveling that he had won her heart and her hand.
Moments later, came a call for dancing. Mr. Long cleared the floor, and Mrs. Long, full of mirth, declared, “We shall have a waltz!”
Gasps rippled through the room—how scandalous! But Darcy was ready. He turned to his beloved, her arm still linked with his.
“Shall we dance, my love?” He spoke in low tones, the force of his anticipation unmistakable.
“It would be my pleasure.” Elizabeth’s smile warmed him to the core. “Though you may be required to compensate for my errors. I have not danced the waltz in public. It is not the done thing.”
“I have only paired with Georgiana. I promise I shall not fail you.”
They stepped onto the floor. As the waltz began, the world beyond them ceased to matter.
Her hand rested lightly upon his shoulder, his on her waist, and they moved as one.
Her eyes searched his face, filled with love.
Bliss carried them through the measure; her perfume surrounded him, her nearness intoxicating.
When the music ebbed, Darcy bent close. “I love you,” he breathed for her alone.
Before Elizabeth could answer, Mr. Bennet’s voice carried across the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I might have your attention. Mr. Long has graciously allowed me to make an announcement in his home. My daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, has consented to marry Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. My wife and I are very blessed. Three of our lovely daughters have secured their happiness this festive season!”
A hush fell. Mrs. Bennet gasped audibly and clutched the back of her chair.
“My stars,” she cried. “Three daughters engaged! All at once! I shall swoon!”
But Elizabeth only laughed as Darcy swept her into another graceful turn, his heart steady and full. For on this twelfth day, she had become his.
Forever.
Elizabeth
The air inside the drawing room brimmed with lively spirit.
News of the engagement had spread swiftly, traveling to the card room and the retiring room, and well-wishers from Meryton and the surrounding area clustered around the newly betrothed, offering congratulations, blessings, and the occasional speculative glance.
The warmth and laughter of the company was as heady as the punch.
Elizabeth stood at Darcy’s side, her arm lightly brushing his. Though she had often felt on display at such gatherings, this evening she did not mind in the least. Not with him beside her.
Mrs. Long’s eyes twinkled. “Miss Elizabeth, I will have to remember to say Mrs. Darcy soon. My dear, what a splendid match! I am honored to have it announced at my gathering.”
More neighbors came to wish them joy. A few young ladies whispered of their envy at Elizabeth’s elegant accessories, while others admired the romance of the evening, declaring it the perfect close to the festive season.