Chapter 25 #3
“I would not say in want,” he answered carefully, “but I will not insult your intelligence by pretending fortune was of no consequence to me. Pemberley has required a great deal of repair since my father’s death.
The estate is recovering, but not as quickly as I would wish.
A large dowry would have been… my preference. ”
“Your preference.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I love your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Darcy held his gaze. “A large fortune would make some matters easier. It is not necessary. I have weighed that question with more severity than perhaps I ought, and I have come to the conclusion that I would rather face difficulty with Miss Elizabeth than ease without her.”
“That is a pretty sentiment.”
“It is also true.”
Mr. Bennet was quiet for a moment. “Truth and prettiness are not always companions. We are fortunate when they meet.”
Darcy inclined his head.
“And if difficulty does come?” Mr. Bennet asked. “You will not repent your choice? You will not look upon my Lizzy and think of the dowry she did not bring you?”
“No.”
“You answer very quickly.”
“Because the answer is not difficult.”
“Most answers are not difficult in a gentleman’s study before the wedding.”
Darcy accepted the rebuke, though it was difficult.
“I know the risk you are naming. Miss Elizabeth named it as well. It is one reason she declined my offer of marriage. She fears that I might one day resent her for what I sacrificed. I cannot prove, in this room, that I never shall. I can only say that I have lived long enough with the consequences of my father’s selfishness to know what resentment does to a household.
I will not bring such poison into mine. If I am blessed enough to earn your daughter’s hand, I will honor her as my wife and as the woman I chose freely. ”
Mr. Bennet watched him with an expression Darcy could not entirely decipher. Elizabeth’s eyes, even when teasing, were alive with movement. Her father’s had a lazier sharpness, as though he disliked exerting himself but could cut deeply when he chose.
“You know she is stubborn,” Mr. Bennet said.
“I do.”
“And difficult.”
Darcy hesitated. “I would not use that word.”
“No? What word would you use?”
“Confident. Well-informed. Intelligent.”
Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched.
“And opinionated,” Darcy added, because honesty required it.
“There you are. I knew we should reach the truth eventually.”
“I admire her opinions. Even when I disagree with them.”
“Especially when you disagree with them, I suspect. Lizzy is never more pleased than when someone gives her a proper battle.”
“I have observed as much.”
“Have you also observed that she does not always yield?”
“Yes.”
“And that she has a habit of managing everyone in this house, whether they wish it or not?”
“Yes.”
“And that she is much too clever for peace, much too lively for dullness, and much too honest to flatter you into comfort when you are wrong?”
Darcy felt his expression soften despite the gravity of the interview. “Yes.”
Mr. Bennet studied him for another long moment, then gave a short sigh that might have been amusement, resignation, or something in between. “You are either very much in love, Mr. Darcy, or in possession of a taste for discomfort I should not have suspected.”
“Perhaps both.”
At that, Mr. Bennet laughed outright.
The sound eased something in Darcy’s chest, though he did not allow himself too much hope.
“Well,” Mr. Bennet said, “I cannot think of any reason to refuse permission for a courtship. Lizzy is not a fool, despite having lived under this roof all her life, and if she has asked for time, she means to use it. You may court her.”
Darcy bowed his head. “Thank you, sir.”
“But understand me clearly.” Mr. Bennet’s tone sharpened. “If Elizabeth changes her mind, I shall not obligate her to continue merely because you are Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”
“I would not wish you to.”
“Good. I have little taste for obligating Lizzy to anything. It only makes her more determined.”
“I will respect her wishes.”
“I hope so. You may find them numerous.”
Darcy nearly smiled. “I shall consider it a privilege to learn them.”
“That answer was far too earnest. Be careful, Mr. Darcy, or she will make a very great fool of you.”
“She may already have done so.”
“Then you are further along than I thought.”
Mr. Bennet picked up the book that lay open beside him, as though the matter were settled and the interview concluded. Darcy waited a moment, expecting some further instruction, some formal dismissal, perhaps even another question.
Mr. Bennet turned a page.
Darcy remained seated.
Mr. Bennet’s eyes did not leave the book. “Was there something else?”
“No, sir.”
“Excellent.”
Darcy rose. “Thank you for your time.”
“Think nothing of it. I try to spend as little of it usefully as possible, but exceptions must occasionally be made.”
Darcy bowed again, though Mr. Bennet had already returned fully to his reading, and left the bookroom with the peculiar sensation of having been examined, mocked, accepted, and dismissed all within the same quarter hour.
In the hall, he paused and released a breath he had not known he held.
He had permission.
It was not the promise he wanted, not yet. But it was a beginning.