Chapter 4 #2
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth breathed when he released her.
Hearing his name on her lips, so softly spoken, undid him; he bent once more to claim a second kiss.
But a sound in the distance recalled them both to themselves, and with flushed cheeks and quick glances over their shoulders, they resumed their walk.
It soon occurred to them that, with their brisk pace, Jane and Mr Bingley were unlikely to overtake them. Rather than continue further afield, they turned back toward Longbourn. When they did not meet the other pair along the lane, they supposed—rightly—that Jane and Bingley had already returned.
Their guess was confirmed when they entered the drawing room to find the others gathered there over cups of tea.
“Did the two of you get lost,” Bingley asked with an irrepressible grin, “or argue so fiercely that you lost all track of time?”
“Neither, Bingley,” Darcy replied, his tone perfectly even, though Elizabeth caught the faintest glimmer of humour in his eyes.
“We did not argue,” Elizabeth added, her eyes sparkling, “but we were so engaged in our conversation that we lost track of time. Neither of us realised you and Jane would amble so slowly while we walked and talked; I had not thought my sister would abandon us so soon.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, his expression as grave as ever. “Indeed. Miss Bennet, I believe your sister has the advantage of us both. She insists upon debating, but I suspect her true intent is to ensure I continue to take as many long walks as she pleases.”
Jane flushed, Bingley laughed outright, and Elizabeth could not help but grin at Darcy’s well-aimed tease. Mrs Bennet only looked between the two, surprised that Darcy did not seem offended by Elizabeth’s comments, but neither did she understand the currents that were hidden in their repartee.
Elizabeth and Darcy had agreed to wait before he formally asked her father for her hand. When Darcy and Bingley had first visited Mr Bennet in his study, Darcy had hinted at his interest in the second daughter, but whether the gentleman had understood him he could not tell.
A se’nnight later, Mr Bennet sent word through Hill that if Mr Darcy called—as he and Bingley had done every day since their arrival—he was to be shown to the study at once.
“Good morning, Mr Bennet,” Darcy said when admitted.
“I have had a most interesting letter, Mr Darcy,” the elder man replied, settling back in his chair and eyeing his guest with sharp amusement.
“Indeed?” Darcy asked, puzzled as to how Mr Bennet’s correspondence could concern him.
“Yes,” Mr Bennet said, drawing out the words. “It is from my cousin, Mr Collins, who also happens to be your aunt’s rector. I believe you know the man?”
Darcy inclined his head, and Mr Bennet continued.
“It appears your presence in Hertfordshire has not escaped notice—nor have your frequent calls at Longbourn. My cousin writes to congratulate me on the engagements of both my eldest and my second daughters. An odd thing, is it not, when I myself have heard no such announcement? But according to Mr Collins, not only is Jane to be advantageously wed, but Elizabeth as well.”
He paused dramatically, waiting to see if Darcy would react.
When Darcy did not, Mr Bennet continued.
“It is this latter report that forms the chief purpose of his letter: for it seems that Lady Catherine de Bourgh objects most strenuously to the match. He warns me that her ladyship may descend upon our doorstep at any moment to protect you from my Lizzy’s feminine allurements. ”
Mr Bennet leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I thought you hinted at some attachment during your first call, but I did not take you for a serious suitor for any of my daughters. Yet I cannot help but notice that you and my Lizzy have contrived to lose yourselves in the lanes with alarming regularity. What have you to say for yourself, sir?”
To Mr Bennet’s surprise, Darcy smiled. “I have asked your daughter to marry me, and she has accepted. I delayed speaking to you only because Miss Elizabeth wished me to prove to the neighbourhood—and to her family—that I am not quite so proud and disagreeable as I appeared on my visit last autumn.”
Mr Bennet’s brows rose at this declaration, though his expression remained half-skeptical.
“So, Lizzy has accepted you, has she? I suppose I ought to congratulate you, Mr Darcy, but you must forgive me if I require some assurance first. My Lizzy is a headstrong girl, too fond of laughing at the follies of others. What makes you believe she will suit you, Mr Darcy? And more to the point—what makes you think you will suit her?”
Darcy did not flinch under the elder man’s scrutiny.
His voice was steady as he answered. “Sir, I have had months to realise Miss Elizabeth’s worth.
She has wit, intelligence, and spirit beyond compare.
She challenges me to be a better man, and she has already succeeded in humbling me.
As her husband, I will strive every day to prove myself worthy of her.
I can offer her a comfortable home, yes—but more than that, I can promise her my deepest respect and unwavering affection. ”
Mr Bennet studied him in silence for several moments, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the arm of his chair. Then, his voice softened, though his eyes were still keen. “You love her? Truly love her? You are not worried about her lack of connexions or dowry?”
Darcy’s answer came without hesitation. “I love her with all my heart. I am not troubled by what she does not have, for I have wealth and connexions enough. What I do not have is Elizabeth, and I find I cannot live without her.”
At that, Mr Bennet leant back, releasing a long breath. “Well, then. I could not have parted with Lizzy to anyone less deserving. If she loves you, I can have no objection. But I warn you, sir, she is no easy wife to manage. She will have her own way as often as she can.”
“Then I count myself fortunate, for it is her way I most desire,” Darcy replied, his lips tilting into a faint smile.
Mr Bennet chuckled slightly, shaking his head, still unable to imagine what all had transpired between this gentleman and his daughter.
“Off with you, then, before I change my mind. And heaven help you, Mr Darcy—for you are to have quite a spirited wife. Now, go speak to my daughter and tell her that I give my approval. I still wish to speak to her, and the two of you will need to plot how to deal with your aunt when she comes.”
Darcy left Mr Bennet’s study to seek out Elizabeth to share with her what he and her father discussed. He suggested a walk, and she, along with Jane and Bingley, accepted eagerly.
“So Papa knows now; did he say anything about when he intends to announce our engagement?” Elizabeth asked. “I would prefer to wait to speak to Mama tonight, to spare you the worst of her exclamations. You will be able to bear it, will you not?”
With a smile and a pat on her hand, he agreed. Mrs Bennet would be trying, he supposed silently, but he would bear it to marry Elizabeth. She seemed to have thawed ever so slightly towards him, or maybe she had only become better at ignoring his presence in her drawing room.
When they neared Longbourn again, they saw a grand coach sitting before the house.
Darcy immediately recognised the ostentatious conveyance.
“It seems Lady Catherine has come,” he murmured to Elizabeth, and together they braced themselves before stepping inside to face what they assumed would be a difficult confrontation. ”
“What is this?” Lady Catherine cried, rising to her full height when she saw Darcy enter with Elizabeth upon his arm.
The rest of the Bennets scurried away at Mr Bennet’s direction, leaving the couple to face Lady Catherine alone.
“How dare you flaunt such a disgraceful connexion before me! Such insolence is beyond endurance—it is not to be borne!”
“Lady Catherine,” Darcy said evenly, his voice calm though his eyes were steely, “what brings you here?”
“I have heard a most alarming report—and I see now that I am too late to prevent this mockery of an engagement from happening. Hear me, Miss Bennet: I will not allow you to lure my nephew from the life that has been ordained for him. He is engaged to my daughter and he will be her husband, not yours. What have you to say to that?”
When Darcy opened his mouth to speak, he was startled by Elizabeth’s hand lightly squeezing his arm. She released him at once and offered the lady a brief curtsey before replying, her tone firm yet perfectly polite.
“Only this—that your nephew is too honourable to be engaged to two ladies at once. As he has offered me his hand, I cannot believe the engagement you describe exists. Pray, your ladyship, is there a marriage contract signed by the gentleman—or by his late father? What evidence have you for this supposed agreement?”
Darcy’s lips pressed together, restraining his own ire, though inwardly his heart swelled with pride at Elizabeth’s composure.
Lady Catherine, however, was momentarily taken aback by so direct a demand from one she deemed so far beneath her. Drawing herself up to her full height, she recovered her voice and launched into fresh invective.
“His mother and I settled the matter while they were still in their cradles! We determined it would be the very thing—to unite Rosings and Pemberley. And are her wishes to be cast aside? All because you have tempted him beyond reason? Tell me, girl, by what arts have you ensnared him?”
Elizabeth’s lips curved in a wry smile. “By disagreeing with him, madam. Apparently, gentlemen grow weary of ladies who echo their every word and change opinions as often as they change their gowns.”
Lady Catherine was scandalised by Elizabeth’s bold reply and launched into a furious tirade, railing against the Bennet family’s inferior connexions, the disgrace of Lydia’s marriage, which Mr Collins had recounted to her in great detail, and the audacity of Elizabeth presuming to ally herself with the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families.
She declared again and again that such a match could never be permitted.
However, Elizabeth remained composed, parrying her accusations with calm firmness and refusing to be intimidated.
Darcy stood silent through much of it, his gaze never wavering from his aunt, though inwardly his pride in Elizabeth deepened with every measured reply she gave.
At last, his patience snapped when Lady Catherine hurled yet another vile epithet at Elizabeth.
“That will do, madam,” he said sharply, stepping forward. “I will not suffer you to speak thus to the lady I love and who will be my wife one day very soon. You forget yourself in my house—or rather, in hers. If you cannot conduct yourself with civility, then you must leave at once.”
Lady Catherine, nearly purple with indignation, sputtered a few final protests, but Darcy’s implacable tone allowed no reply.
Summoning all the hauteur she possessed, she swept from the room in a storm of silks and feathers.
Still muttering imprecations against Darcy and the entire Bennet family, she declared—loud enough for every ear to catch—that she would appeal to her brother, the Earl of Matlock, who, she vowed, would compel her nephew to see reason.
Darcy, unmoved by her threats, followed her out to her coach only to ensure her departure, his expression grave but unyielding.
When Darcy turned to return inside, he readied himself to console Elizabeth, only to be startled by the grin on her face as she met him just outside the front door.
“I suppose I need not dread Mama’s reaction any longer,” she teased, “for surely it cannot be half so bad as your aunt’s.”
Darcy laughed ruefully. “You are right, Elizabeth. I was a fool ever to think your family uncouth—when my own boasts such an aunt as Lady Catherine.”
“Besides,” Elizabeth retorted with a mischievous glint, “if anyone else objects, I shall simply brandish my copy of The Lady of the Lake and insist I have been thoroughly compromised. Surely Lydia’s scandal will be forgotten when the world learns that all this came about because you dared send me a birthday gift. ”
Her jest drew not only a true smile but a quiet chuckle from her intended, his eyes alight with amusement—and with unmistakable love.