Chapter Ninety-Four
Jane did indeed speak with Mr. Bingley, who gave the matter a good deal of thought. Darcy was quite stubborn, he knew, and it was difficult to know how to approach him without causing that stubbornness to get in the way.
Finally, he hit upon an idea. At breakfast the next morning, he said, “I hear from my Jane that Miss de Bourgh thinks of inviting Miss Elizabeth to London, where she is certain to cause a sensation.”
Mr. Darcy’s hand, which was poised to lift his teacup to his lips, stopped. “Oh?” he asked, striving to sound casual.
“Yes,” Mr. Bingley nodded, sounding very innocent. “Miss de Bourgh says she is accomplished and well-educated, as well as very pretty.”
“She certainly is!” Georgiana put in.
Miss Bingley scowled at Georgiana. “It is odd that you say so, Miss Darcy, as your brother has told me that he regards her looks as merely tolerable. I believe that to be an exact quote, is it not, Mr. Darcy?”
Georgiana stared at her brother, shocked. “Impossible,” she declared. “I do not believe it.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said at once. “In point of fact, she is the handsomest lady of my acquaintance.”
Georgiana would very much have liked to put her tongue out at Miss Bingley, but of course could do no such thing. She contented herself with observing the look of anger on Miss Bingley’s face.
Mr. Bingley went on, “And there being no reason for Miss Elizabeth to remain in Meryton, why, she may as well go to London. Evidently your aunt, the Countess, is willing to sponsor her in society as a favour to Miss de Bough.”
“Brother…” Georgiana began, warningly.
“I beg you to excuse me,” Mr. Darcy muttered, and he all but ran upstairs to his room.
In truth, Mr. Darcy had really not needed to be pushed by his sister or his friend. He had concluded, entirely on his own, that he could never be happy in life unless he spent it with Miss Elizabeth.
Anne had told him that Miss Elizabeth blushed when she heard his name, but did that mean anything?
Then he recalled the dinner at Netherfield Park; had it truly only been a few months ago?
He remembered how they had both all but dropped their teacups when their hands touched, and how he had wondered at the time if she had been as affected as he.
He now believed that the symptoms of attraction – the tingling of the fingers, the racing of the heart, the blushing countenance – were not mere romantic fancies. They were real, and they meant something important. How could he have ever thought otherwise?
Of course, Miss Elizabeth, being female, would not be as obtuse as he had been. She would have understood at once what such feelings meant. And being a gently bred young lady, she could not make her own preferences known until the gentleman had first done so.
So was she waiting for him to give her some indication of his feelings? Of course she was!
His heart singing, he went to the front door to ask for his carriage to be brought round at once. It would have been faster to ride his horse, but he recalled his own advice to Reginald. Did he wish to arrive smelling of horse and dust? He certainly did not!
Georgiana accosted him before he could speak with the butler. “Are you going to Longbourn?”
“I am, yes.”
“May I accompany you?”
He hesitated.
“Oh! You are very well-dressed, I see; I believe that is the most extravagantly tied cravat Durham has ever managed to coax you into! Are you going to ask her, Brother?”
“I hope to, yes.”
“Then I would be decidedly in the way!” she giggled.
Mr. Darcy could not recall the last time he had heard his sister giggle; he shook his head in some bewilderment and muttered, “Very decidedly!”
“But once she says yes, I will meet her properly, will I not? And get to know her?”
“Most certainly, Georgiana.” He bent down, kissed her cheek, and motioned to Howard that his carriage was required at once.
***
Of course, it was Kitty, sitting in her usual seat at the front window, who saw Mr. Darcy first. “That’s odd,” she said aloud.
“What is odd?” her mother asked.
“It is Mr. Darcy, come alone in his carriage. Quite dressed up he is, as well.”
Mrs. Bennet saw Jane shoot Elizabeth a quick look, and then saw Elizabeth blush. “Oh, my,” Mrs. Bennet whispered. Then she said aloud, “Oh, my goodness!”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said, warningly. “I beg you not to make a scene!”
“Me? A scene?” Mrs. Bennet demanded, indignantly, now fanning herself furiously.
“Lizzy and Mr. Darcy? Impossible,” Lydia declared.
They heard Mr. Darcy asking to see Mr. Bennet, and then all four ladies covered their mouths so that their sounds of glee would not escape.
***
Mr. Bennet had not been at all unhappy to have Mary wed to Mr. Collins, and having Jane marry Mr. Bingley had been a necessity, of course. But to have this man, practically a stranger, come to ask him for his Lizzy, was an entirely different matter.
“Do I even know you, Mr. Darcy?” he began, quite coldly.
“Certainly we have met, Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy replied, equably.
“But do I know you?”
“Who among us can say that we actually know our fellow man?” Mr. Darcy returned. “We are enjoined first to know ourselves, are we not? Or so says Plato.”
“Ah, a scholar?” Mr. Bennet enquired.
“A student of the classics, at any rate,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Well, that is something, I suppose,” Mr. Bennet grumbled.
“Mr. Bennet, I am well-educated, well-connected, and well able to support Miss Elizabeth and our children.” Mr. Darcy tried not to sound impatient, but it was difficult. Was this man, who had all but run his estate into the ground, truly questioning his worth as a suitor?
“Is that all?” Mr. Bennet asked, staring at Mr. Darcy over his glasses.
“Is that not enough?”
“Lord! And you call yourself a student of the classics! Of course it is not enough! Come, man, why are you here?”
“Because I love her desperately, passionately, and can never be happy if she is not by my side,” Mr. Darcy blurted.
Mr. Bennet studied him in silence. “Very well,” he sighed, at last. “You have my permission to speak with her alone.” He rose to his feet and motioned for Mr. Darcy to follow him.
The two men left Mr. Bennet’s study and headed for the parlour, Mr. Darcy still rather shocked at his own admission and Mr. Bennet’s reaction.
Mr. Bennet stood in the doorway. “Mrs. Bennet, I have given Mr. Darcy my permission to speak with Lizzy privately. Based on his description of his feelings for her, I advise you not to leave them too long alone.”
Mrs. Bennet rose, curtsied silently to Mr. Darcy, and left the room, with Jane, Kitty and Lydia following close behind her. Mrs. Bennet reached behind Lydia and closed the door.
Elizabeth sat on the sofa, trying not to tremble. Her eyes were on the carpet, threadbare and worn.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began.
Her eyes remained on the carpet.
“Miss Elizabeth, I will be honest. I have always believed that romantic fancies were for the weak-minded, but I cannot deny the strength of my feelings.”
She did not look up.
His voice hoarse now, he went on. “I have tried and tried to suppress my inclination, but it will not do. I think of you always; I dream about you; I try to imagine a life without you and it looks bleak and miserable. I love you with all my heart and soul, and I beg you – I beg you! – to say that you have feelings for me, that my love has some hope of being returned!”
She raised her eyes to his; they were wet. “Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I do have feelings for you. I have had them for a long time, but had no thought of them being returned until Georgiana told me – oh, no, I should not have said that.”
“Georgiana?” Mr. Darcy was baffled.
“She told me…” Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She told me that her brother was in love with me.”
“I shall have words with her,” he said, beginning at last to smile. “But – it made you happy? What she said?”
“Happier than I ever imagined being,” she replied, finally smiling back.
“You will marry me, my Elizabeth?” he whispered.
“I will,” she whispered back.
And though neither of them could ever recall just how it happened, they were in one another’s arms, his lips on hers, her arms curling around his neck.
“Lizzy!” Lydia’s voice interrupted what had been a most wonderful moment. “Oh, Lord!”
They stepped apart from one another, both breathing hard, still staring at one another’s face.
“Lizzy, Mama sent me in.” Lydia was very evidently trying not to laugh aloud.
Elizabeth retreated at once to her sofa, there to hide her head in a pillow, until her mother and the rest of her sisters came in to laugh at her, congratulate Mr. Darcy, and pass around the tea tray.
“You know, Lizzy,” Jane began, once everyone had settled down.
“Jane?”
“If you hurry, you and I could share a wedding day!”
Elizabeth stared at her sister. “Wait; what is today?”
“Charlotte was married just yesterday, Lizzy, so you tell me what day it is, if you can possibly wrap your mind around it,” Jane teased her.
“Charlotte was married on the fourteenth, so today must be the fifteenth of January. So if the banns were called on the eighteenth, the twenty-fifth, and then the first of February – you are right, Jane! We could marry together on the fourth of February! Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth looked across the room at her betrothed.
“The sooner the better,” he declared.