Chapter 6 In Defence of Honour #3
“I love your daughter—”
“Papa.” Elizabeth shot Darcy another panicked look. “You cannot make me marry him.”
“Elizabeth, please, I—”
“I have not given you leave to address me in such a familiar way, sir.”
Darcy lowered his voice, barely audible. “But we kissed—”
Bennet placed a reassuring hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Indeed not, Daughter. I would never see you bound in such an unhappy situation. This cad has besmirched your honour, and I would defend it. I demand satisfaction.”
Sir William stepped forward, his usually jovial countenance spoilt with disgust as he glowered at Darcy. “Bennet, my friend. As the magistrate, you know I cannot condone duelling.”
The murmurs of the crowd increased, though Miss Bingley still managed to make her voice heard above them all. “You cannot be serious!” she screeched. “How can you do this?”
“I can do this,” protested Mr Bennet, “because Mr Darcy here remains unchanged, spending all of his time disdaining everyone and everything, filled with conceited pride! The man has never been denied in his life. He expects us all to fall at his feet. I am glad, at last, to see that there is something in this world the vaunted master of Pemberley cannot have.”
A riotous cheer of support came over the crowd.
“Why should we make Bennet deal with him alone! This fiend has wronged us all,” shouted a voice from the throng.
This statement finally jolted Bingley out of his shock. “Wait! I implore you! My friend is not the Hertfordshire Hound. His character, you have surely sketched on his previous visit in the Autumn. You must know that it is impossible for him to commit such heinous crimes.”
“La! He fits the description in the newspaper,” cried Lydia.
“It matters not if he is or is not the kidnapper. The salient point here is that he has wronged one of our own.” Charlotte Lucas pointed a finger accusingly at Bingley.
Bingley spluttered as Mr Bennet looked at him, smiling in grim satisfaction. “I guess we have our answer as to who shall serve as Mr Darcy’s second!”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror. “Papa, please! Mr Darcy’s conduct was wrong but does not necessitate such violence. You heard Sir William. Dueling is illegal.”
“Stay out of this, Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Goulding broke in. “Such matters are better dealt with by the men.”
Elizabeth locked eyes with Darcy, fear and anxiety writ on her expression. “I kissed him back,” she whispered, her expression changing to one of determination. She spoke again, louder. “Wait. I will marry him.”
“What?” the crowd exclaimed as one.
Mr Bennet turned towards Elizabeth. “Are you sure?”
She remained silent.
“I will ask again, Daughter, are you sure you wish to spend your life with such a man?”
“Papa…” Elizabeth swallowed thickly, the words dying on her lips. She managed a short nod.
“Very well then.” Mr Bennet sighed and then turned to face what appeared to Darcy to be every member of the local gentry, whose expressions seemed to say that the night’s events were better than any show on Drury Lane.
“I am pleased to announce the engagement of my daughter Elizabeth to Mr Darcy.”
Darcy found himself beset with an onslaught of well-wishers, who had up until a moment before been baying for his blood and accusing him of being a villain.
He moved closer to Elizabeth, unwilling to be separated from her in the crush.
Resting his hand upon the small of her back, he felt her sway, the motion causing him to glance at her face.
He frowned as his eyes took in her pallor.
Leaning in, he spoke in hushed tones. “You are unwell. Come, let us get some air.”
The grateful smile she cast him as she placed her hand into the crook of his arm caused Darcy’s chest to flutter, and he felt a strong surge of protectiveness overtake him.
He may not be the most social and amiable of men, but when it came to action, to defending those under his care, there he could really shine.
Slowly, they made their way through the rooms as Darcy led Elizabeth to the entrance of the assembly, conscious that Elizabeth would probably not wish to return to the balcony and be reminded of the liberties he had taken.
Pushing open the wide oak door, Darcy frowned.
Elizabeth pulled away from his arm and stomped down the steps without so much as a backward glance, her pace increasing as she put more distance between herself and the assembly rooms.
“Elizabeth, wait!” Darcy called, his long stride taking him down the stairs two at a time. “Where are you going?”
She paused but did not turn to face him; her voice wavered as she spoke. “I am going home, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy closed his eyes, conscious that after his actions tonight, he had even more to atone for. “Very well.”
“Very well?” Elizabeth turned to face him, her eyes questioning.
“I cannot blame you for wishing to leave. I shall request my carriage to take you to Longbourn.”
“No.” Elizabeth ran a hand over her eyes. “I apologise, Mr Darcy. I thank you for your kind offer. However, I would prefer to return home on foot. My mind is so full of conflicting thoughts, and walking helps to soothe me when I am troubled.”
“As you wish.” Darcy motioned with his arm.