Chapter Seven #3
“Of course.” Elizabeth said. “She and Charles are well-matched—could you imagine either of them wed to somebody more similar to themselves? Fond as I am of my new brother, if he had chosen a bride as impetuous and exuberant as himself—oh dear, it is exhausting to consider. And Jane! Had she accepted the suit of a gentleman as demure and reserved as herself, they might never manage to make an heir together!”
Elizabeth gave a very charming little asp as she clapped a hand over her mouth at this indelicate impudence, but Darcy allowed a modicum of his amusement to show on his face.
“You are perfectly correct in your… interesting insights,” he said.
“I had not thought of their differences in such a light as this—I am ashamed to admit that initially I thought only of the difference of their situations in life.”
For an instant, something between panic and fury flashed in her eyes, but she schooled her countenance and gave him a most sardonic brow raise.
“Oh? Do you refer to the fact that she is a gentleman’s daughter, whose connections to trade are further removed, or that her family welcomed him with open arms while his own relations have retreated to sulk in Shropshire after failing to use Charles as a pawn in their own social aspirations? ”
She smiled brightly, assured of her triumph, and Darcy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.
“My regard for you moves me to honesty as much as my honor, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes begging for mercy.
“So many years of assiduously avoiding the snares of fortune hunters in London has made me wary on my friend’s behalf, for he is so eager to approve of everybody he meets that I have long feared it would lead him to some harm.
Given my family’s history with Mr. Wickham, I hope you can allow that it is perfectly justified to be so guarded.
I mistook your sister’s natural reticence for disinterest until I considered the similarities of her character to my own sister. ”
“And you had an epiphany,” Elizabeth said drily. “You realized that reserved people deserve love and happiness as much as open-tempered individuals.”
“I ought to hold such a belief, if there is to be any hope for myself,” he said, surprising even himself.
His candor seemed to soften her pique, which had not been entirely playful.
He pressed his luck. “But you have not answered my other question—why would you say that you were angry about her marriage?”
A slow smile spread across her face, and Elizabeth rolled her neck, gazing skyward as if the answer should be perfectly obvious.
“Because I am a selfish creature and I did not wish to part with my favorite sister,” she said, laughter bubbling in her voice.
“I feel utterly foolish about it now, but I was quite put out that day—so much so that I likely made the Bingleys rejoice at how far away Macallister Manor is. Seeing Jane and Charlotte both married, sharing private jokes about it and preparing to leave me behind—well, it shall take some adjustment. Fortunately, as my father has reminded me, I have an attentive mother who will certainly manage to transform my present dilemma into… a different dilemma.”
Darcy silently assessed her for a minute, sensing a deeper melancholy behind her cavalier jesting.
His hand edged closer to hers once more, until his fingertips brushed the smooth skin of her wrist. “Surely you cannot blame the Bingleys for wishing to reside further away—I think you would not always wish to live so near to Longbourn.”
“I suppose not.”
“I daresay you would like to reside closer to your favorite sister.”
Elizabeth returned his searching gaze as her fingers curled around his, hidden between them and resting on the sofa. “I was looking forward to seeing more of the country—of seeing Derbyshire. Gigi was singing its praises this morning.”
“We are both happier at Pemberley than anywhere else, although it has grown lonely there since it has been just the two of us.”
“Soon it shall be three,” she said, leaving him in shattering suspense for a minute before adding, “I understand Macallister Manor is near enough that Charles is sure to visit you every day.”
He chuckled at her wickedness. “He has threatened to, yes. I suppose you would be delighted if it were your sister making such promises, but… a visit from Charles every day!” Darcy groaned dramatically, and Elizabeth laughed.
It was a relief to once again divert their conversation to innocent and amusing banter, though the phantom of his growing desire seemed to linger.
Rationally, he knew that he must give Elizabeth more than a day to accustom herself to thinking well of him.
Darcy had ever been prone to reason and rationality over acting on emotion, but at present it was a struggle to maintain such principles when she was near enough to take into his arms. He might whisper every adoring thought he had entertained of Elizabeth Bennet into her ear, reciting months’ worth of private musings like poetry—though had she not abused the notion of love poems the very night they met?
Uncertainty churned in his gut. They had, in the space of two days, come to such an intimate and comprehensive mutual appreciation for every nuance of one another's character that Darcy was in no doubt at all of his own wishes where Elizabeth was concerned.
But despite her warm praise and generous reassessment of his character, he dared not believe she had already come to return his ardor.
And so, like the tremendous blockhead he had ever been, he sat on the sofa, holding her hand, wondering if she could ever love him.