Chapter 24 Pleasant and Amiable
PLEASANT AND AMIABLE
Elizabeth found herself eaten up with curiosity, observing as Mr Darcy and Sir James conversed intently on the balcony.
She feared she was a woefully inattentive partner to Mr Peter Goulding, too busy wondering what the other two men were about.
Happily, Mr Goulding was too busy making moon-calf eyes at Miss Penelope Harrington to care much for what Elizabeth did.
Curiosity turned to vexation, however, as the last dance of the evening approached and Sir James bid her farewell instead of collecting her for their dance, claiming some confusion in when he had ordered his carriage. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but my carriage is brought round and I must depart.”
She was too flustered to know what she said to such an odd happening and merely stuttered about and bid him a good evening. She watched as he left the ballroom and then turned, meaning to go and sit with her mother; she was stopped by Mr Darcy.
“Sir James had to leave? How strange. Would you do me the honour of another dance in his stead?”
Her confusion turned to incredulity as she beheld Mr Darcy, confident and assured, reaching his hand towards her. He had now interfered with her…well, if not her romance, her dance! Was there nothing this man would not do to have his way of things?
She crossed her arms over her chest. “This is highly irregular, Mr Darcy.”
“It is. Perhaps we can discuss it further while we dance.”
“You have again interfered,” she hissed. “What did you say to him?”
He withdrew his hand slowly. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”
“History,” she retorted. “Do you think yourself Cupid, sir? Or perhaps the opposite of Cupid. Anteros maybe, going about punishing anyone who dares to think of love.”
His assuredness slipped a bit. “You love him?”
“That is an impertinent question,” she retorted. “And it is none of your concern.”
“In fact, it is very much my concern.”
She flushed. “We ought not to speak of such things in the middle of a ballroom.”
Mr Darcy looked about. “You are correct,” he said. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“A place that we can speak of such matters.” He placed his hand on her back and began to gently push her forwards. “The balcony.”
“I will go,” she hissed over her shoulder, “but only because I have a few questions for you.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Because I have a few for you as well.”
The balcony was deserted, given that the rest of the guests were either dancing, saying their farewells, or already departed, but Elizabeth felt it was no risk to her reputation given they were in full sight of the matrons.
In full sight of the matrons indeed, Elizabeth thought, seeing prying gazes and active mouths from among her mother’s friends. She turned to Mr Darcy. “I should never have imagined you to be as meddlesome as you evidently are.”
“It is evidently more a shade in my character than ever I had realised,” he agreed. “But I really must know. Do you love him?”
“What would make you think I should answer such a question?”
Mr Darcy did not reply to that, only keeping a steady gaze trained on her.
She sighed. “I find Sir James to be a very pleasant and amiable gentleman, and I enjoy his society.”
A broad smile slowly broke over Mr Darcy’s countenance, but he quickly hid it and turned his head away from her.
“Stop that,” she ordered him.
He turned back to her. “Stop what?”
“What is there to be smiling about? Or rather smirking.”
“I am not smirking.”
“You certainly are.”
“It pleases me to know you are not in love with him.”
She drew back. “I never said that. I said I thought him pleasant—”
“Pleasant and amiable.” Mr Darcy permitted himself to beam broadly. “These are not the words of a woman in love.”
“I find this entire line of questioning to be quite beyond the bounds of polite discourse,” said Elizabeth, mostly because she could think of nothing else to say. “And now I have a question for you, sir, and I beg you would offer me the same candour I have given you.”
“You may depend upon it,” he said.
“What is the meaning of all of this?”
“The meaning of what?”
“You come to town with your friend and behave quite… You seem rather… Your manners are…”
He offered no assistance to her, and at length with a fortifying inhale, she said, “For the entirety of these past weeks, you have been behaving in a manner that is quite more…teasing than I would have expected based on our prior interactions last autumn, or in Kent. Teasing and perhaps even a little…almost…well, I cannot imagine what has come over you. You would dance with me thrice and wreak absolute havoc on my reputation!”
“I would do nothing of the sort,” he said very seriously. “I am not certain you are ready to hear the explanation for my behaviour, however.”
“I am ready,” she insisted.
“Very well.” He inhaled deeply, his eyes on hers. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And I hope to somehow make you love me too and to win your hand in marriage. That is why I returned with my friend to Hertfordshire.”
She found herself unable to speak, breathless in the face of such a bold and plain-spoken statement. Yes, they had got along quite well of late, had even become friends of a fashion. But love?
“No.”
He nodded slowly.
Her hands, she noticed, had begun to twist themselves together. “You cannot love me.”
“I can and I do.”
“It is impossible in every respect!”
“I disagree,” he said simply, and smiled.
“And you believe running off my other suitors will make me fall in love with you? Because, lest you forget, sir, it was your interference in the matter of Jane and Mr Bingley that made me…um—”
“Despise me? Yes, I know. But you do not despise me now.”
“No, I do not, that is true. But I am not in love with you.”
“Do you think you could be? Some day? Or does every feeling within you prohibit it?”
She opened her mouth having no idea what might emerge from it. “I find you aggravating. Provoking. And sometimes…handsome.”
“Sometimes handsome?” He laughed, seeming delighted by her reply. “Let us both endeavour to remember that accurately, as I believe it will amuse our children one day. All children wish to know how their parents fell in love, and I think your words will prove an excellent beginning to the tale.”
Elizabeth released a sound that was half a gasp of astonishment, and half a sound of amusement. “Well, I think we should tell them about a certain assembly where I was deemed ‘tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt’ you!”
“You see?” He gave her a smile that filled her with a melting sort of warmth. “I am winning you over; already you admit to the possibility that we will one day have children together.”
Half-laughing, she said, “You are very confident, sir. The ladies of the ton have persuaded you of your desirability as a marriage partner.”
“No.” He reached for her hands and clasped them within his, pulling them to his chest, suddenly very serious and not at all laughing. “Pray do not think that. It is not my pride that makes me so assured.”
“Then what?”
“I believe in us,” he said, stated simply.
“I do not understand.”
Mr Darcy spoke quietly, so quietly she was required to lean in to hear him.
“I first knew I loved you when I was in Hertfordshire last autumn. However, once I met you again, in Kent, I came to understand how it is that one might find someone and just know that they are the perfect one meant for you—a notion I had always thought mere poetic nonsense. Now, I have realised that any person fortunate enough to find their one true love will be able to have a marriage that transcends the usual wedded state, to reach the sublime. As I know you are my like self, so too am I yours. It cannot be another way. You and I are meant to be in love.”
It took a beat for Elizabeth to realise her jaw hung agape.
She closed it and tugged her hands free.
Turning, she walked towards the edge of the balcony where she leant upon the balustrade.
She had hoped that if she placed her back to him, she might gain some control over her heart which, unaccountably, once again beat wildly.
She heard him follow behind her and said, “Your sentiments concern me.”
He stood very closely behind her. “How so?”
“Mr Darcy, I do not plan to fall in love with you.”
He reached out and ran his fingers down her arm in a whisper-light caress that was unbearably thrilling. “I did not plan to fall in love with you either. These things just happen.”
She looked over her shoulder, wanting to tease him to relieve the delicious tension between them. “I am quite stubborn, you know. What if I do fall in love with you but refuse to tell you, only to carry my point? We might never marry, from sheer obstinacy.”
He moved beside her and leant forwards on the balustrade, resting on one arm to look at her. “I do have an alternate plan, should you prove resistant.”
“What might that be?”
“Your mother.”
“My mother!”
“Mrs Bennet will be my greatest ally,” he told her.
“I have had my solicitor prepare documentation which details my full wealth and holdings that I will submit for her review. I know she has guessed that Bingley’s wealth is nothing to mine, but this way she will know for certain—for when she speaks of it to Lady Lucas and Mrs Long. ”
Elizabeth could not suppress her giggle.
“I also took the liberty of preparing settlement articles for her approval. In this way, she will know exactly how rich and how great you will be as Mrs Darcy, as well as the precise figures for your pin money. I have also composed a list of my rich friends that I plan to put your younger sisters in the way of, in order of descending wealth, naturally. If all of that fails to excite her anticipation, then I will take her to Pemberley, so she can see what a great estate it is.”
Elizabeth giggled more and shook her head at him. “Surely you would not wish for a bride forcibly shuffled down the aisle by her mother, who had unabashedly mercenary motives.”
“I am very certain of the happily ever after which awaits us. I am perfectly willing to undertake whatever journey is required to get us there.”
With that, he gazed at her, his eyes dark and serious. Inexplicably, she felt an almost painful thrill course through her, and her hands began to tremble. She looked away quickly, unnerved by her response to him.
He would not accept it, and reached to her, touching her face and forcing her to look at him. “I love you.”
It was a moment which begged for a kiss, and the air was electric between them awaiting it. Elizabeth felt her respirations quicken as her mind quickly wondered if she would allow it. Yes. Yes, I will.
But then Mr Darcy’s eyes flickered over her shoulder where, no doubt, the matrons were in rapt fascination at the tableau they presented. Elizabeth straightened and took a step back; Mr Darcy did likewise.
“Allow me to escort you back to your mother,” he said, his voice sounding thick and strange.
She did not trust her own voice and so only nodded, then spent the short walk wondering why it was she felt such intense disappointment that he had not kissed her.