Chapter 25 Falling for Mr Darcy
FALLING FOR MR DARCY
The ladies of Longbourn fell silent when, the day after the Netherfield ball, Mr Bingley arrived and requested a private conference with Mr Bennet.
Jane and Elizabeth had been awake half the night so that Jane could, with many hushed giggles of delight, tell Elizabeth what had occurred in a quiet corner of Netherfield’s library last evening.
Mr Bingley had professed his willingness to do anything and everything to assure her of his constancy, and his ability to make her happy, and she—knowing she could not be happy without him—had decided to make a leap of faith.
Elizabeth had assured her sister that she had her unwavering support in the matter and that she most assuredly was not a fool.
Looking at Jane’s reddened face and dancing blue eyes, as well as the love shining from Mr Bingley’s artless countenance, Elizabeth was nothing but happy for them.
And this is the end of all his friend’s anxious circumspection!
Of all his sister’s falsehood and contrivance!
The happiest, wisest, and most reasonable end!
Although only Jane and Elizabeth had sure knowledge of why he was there, the rest soon gained the intelligence as their mother rapidly leapt to the correct conclusion.
“Oh Jane! It has happened at last!” Mrs Bennet clasped her hands together, her voice rising with each word. “Five thousand a year and settled so close by! We must go to London immediately—”
“Mama,” said Elizabeth with a laugh, “perhaps before we leave for London, we ought to wait and see that Papa gives his consent.”
“Consent! He would not dare do otherwise!” Mrs Bennet waved her hand dismissively.
Mr Bennet did not prolong Jane’s agony too long.
Within only a quarter of an hour, he appeared in the sitting room, announcing that he had given Mr Bingley his consent and blessing.
Mrs Bennet was embarrassingly effusive for a blessedly short time.
Mr Bennet antagonised her accordingly, offering Mr Bingley a ladder in the event he should wish to steal Jane away in the night to elope to Gretna Green and spare them all the wedding preparations.
While Mrs Bennet scolded him for speaking so, Kitty and Lydia began squabbling over all the new gowns they would need to have. Mary sat silently reading in the corner, affording no one the dignity of her attention.
Elizabeth, deeply mortified by the unseemly chaos, tried her best to assist Jane in diverting Bingley’s attention from the melee.
In truth, that gentleman seemed too happy to be grievously alarmed by it.
She watched as he smiled at Jane, apparently deaf to Lydia’s shrill voice and blind to her mother’s vulgar expressions.
Jane’s face was radiant, her happiness unmistakable despite her natural modesty.
Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt for having tried to push her sister towards other gentlemen. They would be very happy together—of that she was now certain. She could only hope that in due time, she might know such happiness for herself.
Having declared himself so boldly to Elizabeth at the ball, Darcy had decided there was little use in further prevarication. She knew he loved her; he now needed to do all in his power to make her fall in love with him.
Over the next week, he and Bingley began to spend an inordinate amount of time at Longbourn, calling at a barely acceptable hour for visits and whisking the ladies off to walk the gardens, or strolling to the many scenic vistas around Hertfordshire, like Oakham Mount or Waller’s Glade.
Darcy was delighted by the ease with which he and Elizabeth conversed as they walked.
Although by nature a quiet man, it seemed with Elizabeth his tongue was loosed.
They enjoyed many of the same books, and he found it highly enjoyable to discuss them with her.
Many times they held differing opinions, but this made their discussions all the more pleasurable.
They spoke on music, art, world affairs, and anything else that came to mind.
Having met dozens of ladies who made thinly veiled attempts to win his favour by espousing whatever opinions he held, it was exhilarating to talk with a lady who sometimes agreed with him and sometimes did not.
He appreciated too that Elizabeth was never hesitant to explore a topic she knew little of, eager to ask questions and understand new ideas, rather than feigning indifference or directing the topic elsewhere as most ladies of the ton would do.
Several times, Darcy even found himself discussing estate issues with her. It was during one of these conversations that he truly acted beyond the bounds of propriety.
When he thought on it later, he recognised that it was likely because their discussion had entered into territory he had long imagined, him hearing her thoughts and wishes and in turn discussing his own concerns with her—just as he had always imagined they would do if they were married.
Elizabeth had her beautiful eyes trained on his face throughout their entire exchange, and her hand, rested upon his arm, gave slight intermittent squeezes to punctuate an important point or a turn in the discussion.
It was a habit of hers, he had noticed, and he adored it.
In some ways, it made him forget that they were not, in fact, married.
Thus did he kiss her.
She had made some comment about his affairs, he had responded in some manner he could not later recall, she had teased him, he had laughed, and then he simply leant over and kissed her.
She was taken aback, no doubt about that, but at least she did not pull her arm from his. Instead, she looked up at him silently, her eyes questioning.
He should have apologised immediately. However, he could not bring himself to be sorry, not when she leant into him, tilting her face up to his…inviting a second kiss?
This time he pulled his arm from her, placing one hand under her chin to tilt her face even more towards his, while the other he rested lightly and tentatively on her waist. He kept the kiss gentle, his mouth closed, his lips taking the merest taste of hers.
Much, much too soon, he forced himself to release her. She pulled away, looking down, a faint pink blush on her cheeks.
Astonishingly, they said nothing about the incident at all. There was a brief pause after which she said, “I believe you were telling me of your cousin Lady Aurelia. Does she make her home in town?”
He gladly took up the gambit, continuing to tell her about all of his family that she did not know, but in his mind was nothing but the kiss.
It was improper. He regretted nothing—except, perhaps, if he had made her uneasy.
But she seemed perfectly sedate, if a little flushed.
He glanced down at her as they continued to walk, longing to pull her closer to him, wishing he had the right to kiss her again.
If nothing else, he dearly hoped that her acceptance of his kiss meant that she was feeling for him something of what he felt for her.
He wished he could have proposed on the spot, but he had given his sister his word. Georgiana would meet her before he proposed; he could not fail in that promise. It is time; I shall write to her now. Tell her she must come to Hertfordshire to meet her sister.