Chapter 12 Confrontations #2
“Of course, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, grinning up at him.
Yet almost at once her expression faltered as memory intruded.
“Oh—you should know that Mr Wickham has already begun disparaging you. Only last evening, while dining at my aunt and uncle’s, he attempted to persuade Jane that you were merely trifling with me.
But I told her plainly that he was trying to deceive her. ”
Her chin lifted slightly, pride flashing in her eyes. “I assured her that I know enough of both your characters to judge rightly which of you may be trusted.”
He inclined his head, gratitude softening his features. “Thank you, my dear,” he said quietly. But almost at once, his brow furrowed. “Have you spoken to her yet—of our courtship?”
Elizabeth exhaled, her gaze drifting towards her sister, who was still engaged in conversation with Mr Bingley and Mrs Hurst. “No,” she admitted.
“I do not know why, but I feel I should not tell her just yet. Jane…” She hesitated, her voice gentling.
“Jane has been different since we were at Netherfield. If it were anyone else, I might think she was jealous of me, but I have never known Jane to be jealous of anyone. Still, I cannot think of any other reason she might be so hesitant. I have found it difficult to confide anything in her of late.”
For a moment, Darcy did not speak. Instead, he followed Elizabeth’s gaze, studying her sister with fresh eyes, attempting to see her as Elizabeth might. “You and your sister have always been close, have you not?”
At Elizabeth’s nod, he went on, still speaking softly so the others could not overhear.
“Then perhaps she already senses that something between us has changed, and wonders why you have not confided in her. It may be that she feels—though she would never say so—that you are keeping some happiness from her. Or perhaps she is a little hurt that I have spoken my heart while Bingley has not yet spoken his.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together as she considered this. “I have wondered the same myself,” she admitted softly. “Yet when I try to speak with her about our attachment, she becomes… reticent. It is difficult to imagine that Jane, who is the very pattern of goodness, could feel jealousy.”
Darcy’s expression gentled. “It is by no means uncommon, my love,” he said.
“Even the best of hearts may feel it, even if they might not recognise it in themselves. I will speak to my friend and see if I cannot encourage him to speak or at least to hint at his intentions. In private, he has often spoken of his regard for your sister; I cannot fathom what still restrains him.”
“You do not oppose the match?” Elizabeth asked, arching one brow in that manner which never failed to draw a smile from him, her cheeks heating at hearing his endearment, but choosing not to remark upon it at that moment.
“I should be a hypocrite if I did,” he replied evenly.
“My only reservation lay in the fear that her affections were not equal to his. But if, as you assure me, she returns his regard, then I can see no cause for objection. He might have advanced himself in society by marrying a wealthier woman, but if he is content to overlook such material concerns, I have no right to interfere.”
“And you, sir,” Elizabeth rejoined with a playful grin, “would you not have preferred a wife with far more wealth and connexions to hang on your every word? Although you avoided Miss Bingley, there are no small number of others like her should you wish for a biddable wife.”
“Elizabeth, you are a treasure,” Darcy said with quiet conviction.
“I have no want of fortune or consequence, for I possess both in abundance. What I require is not an heiress, but a wife who will be the true mistress of my heart—my steadfast friend, my confidante, my dearest joy. That is why I have waited so long to marry.”
Elizabeth’s smile softened, her eyes alight with an affection she could no longer disguise. “Then I must hope,” she whispered, “that I may prove equal to such devotion, for I should count myself unworthy indeed if I did not strive to be all of that—and more—for you.”
Darcy wished he might catch her hand and press it fervently to his lips, but he restrained the impulse. Instead, with his gaze never wavering from hers, he murmured, “It is too soon to ask for more, is it not?”
“It is,” Elizabeth admitted, her composure faltering beneath his gaze.
“A hasty acceptance would do neither of us credit. I must be certain of my own heart before I can give it wholly to you—and you must allow me a little longer to grow accustomed to the notion that the proud gentleman I once so disliked has become the very one I cannot seem to do without.”
“It is unfortunate, is it not, that I spoke so foolishly at first and allowed my pride to govern me?” Darcy said, his tone echoing her own lightness but edged with genuine regret. “We might have been spared a great deal of misunderstanding.”
“This way, sir, we are both required to temper our pride,” Elizabeth returned, her eyes alight with mischief. “I was too hasty in my judgement of you, and now we are obliged to discover whether we truly suit. At least I may comfort myself that I already know the worst of you.”
Darcy could not help but smile in return, yet all too soon he perceived that his friend was prepared to depart. While he had been engaged with Elizabeth, Jane had quietly withdrawn, and Bingley, with Mrs Hurst at his side, appeared most intent on avoiding any glance in their direction.
“I suppose I must bid you farewell until tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, raising his voice slightly from the low murmur it had been before.
He could not help but wonder how much the others had overheard; and while nothing in their discourse had been improper, he felt a flicker of embarrassment that his playful flirtations with Elizabeth might have been witnessed by others.
It was not his reputation that concerned him, for he had little patience for idle gossip, but the risk that someone might perceive too much and carry word of it to Mrs Bennet.
Their secret courtship, so carefully guarded, could not yet bear the scrutiny of others.