Chapter 20 Runaway
by Jeff Bigler
Hunsford Parsonage, Kent
Mr Darcy called at the parsonage at Hunsford. He found Elizabeth in the sitting room and began without preamble, “You must allow me to tell you—”
“How ardently you admire and love me, or something like that?” she finished. “Is this the beginning of a proposal, Mr Darcy?”
Mr Darcy stared at Elizabeth with his mouth hanging open. I do not think I have ever seen Mr Darcy speechless before, Elizabeth thought mischievously. It is rather becoming.
After a moment, he recovered most of his composure. “I did indeed have a speech prepared, one which I hoped you might have found quite to your liking. I should have preferred to have a chance to deliver it.”
She looked at him archly. “You may deliver your speech, but be warned that I shall stop you if it threatens to convince me not to accept you.”
Darcy stammered, “Are you saying what I think you are saying?”
Now that she had made her decision, Elizabeth could not resist toying with him. “I cannot read your mind, Mr Darcy. I know not what you think I am saying.”
Darcy became even more flustered.
“Continue, Mr Darcy. I await your every word with bated breath.”
“Elizabeth, you are taunting me with the very qualities that I admire most in you! I intended to say how much you have come to mean to me, how you are the most handsome woman of my acquaintance, but how your wit and intelligence far surpass your appearance. And then, yes, I meant to ask you to relieve my suffering by consenting to be my wife.”
She gave him an arch smile. “Then please do so.”
“I do not understand. What is it that you would have me do?”
“You said that you were going to ask me to marry you. Well?”
Elizabeth did not know how a man could look exasperated, eager, and smitten all at once, but Mr Darcy somehow managed it. She enjoyed every moment of it and looked forward to the many other ways she might sketch his character, using his face as the canvas.
“Very well.” He lowered himself to one knee and took her hands. “Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife?”
“Yes, Mr Darcy. I must admit that I expect to very much enjoy being your wife. I am pleased to accept.”
The consternation and frustration evaporated from Darcy’s countenance, and he beamed. “Please,” he finally managed to say, “call me William.”
“William?”
“That is what my sister calls me. Fitzwilliam is our cousin, the colonel.”
“Very well. William. That is a handsome smile,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “but it is rather too wide for my purposes.”
Darcy began a reply, but the sentence died on his lips as Elizabeth captured them in a kiss.
When they broke apart, Elizabeth continued.
“I am of the opinion that fate is playing games with our lives and shall continue to do so until we marry happily. I have thus resolved to marry you and to be happy about it. If I am correct, this shall be the last of your proposals that I shall have to endure.”
“Will you truly be happy, Elizabeth?”
“I am sure I shall be. I do like you, William.” His name felt awkward on her tongue, but not unpleasant. “You are a kind, considerate, and intelligent man, and I am sure that in time I shall grow to love you very much indeed.”
“If you are yet unsure of your love for me, we need not marry right away. We may have a courtship for as long as you like.”
“That is thoughtful of you, but I do not wish to give fate another opportunity to sport with us. I would prefer to be married next week.”
“Next week? I could purchase a licence, but that is not much time. Do you not want a splendid wedding with a beautiful gown?”
“William, do you wish to marry my trousseau or me? I do not need a fine gown. I certainly do not need to endure my mother’s fussing over details that will matter only to her. Yes, my dear Fitzwilliam, I would like us to leave tomorrow morning for Gretna Green.”
“Gretna Green? We do not need to go to Scotland to marry, and if we do, the ton will create some sort of scandal that necessitates it. If you are certain that you wish to marry me, let us go to London, where I may purchase a licence.”
“Very well, William, then let us go to London with all possible haste.”
“All possible haste? Why are you in such a rush?”
“We have endured much together, and it has taught me that the world is brimming with uncertainty. It appears that the one thing I may be certain of is your love, and so I wish for us to be united without delay.”
Darcy beamed at her, finally seeming to relax into her acceptance. He took her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
The couple agreed that Elizabeth would reside with her aunt and uncle Gardiner before the wedding, while Mr Darcy would make the necessary arrangements for his home to welcome its new mistress.
This would also allow Elizabeth to obtain her uncle’s consent to marry, rather than Darcy travelling all the way to Longbourn to ask her father.
When Elizabeth arrived at the Gardiners’ residence, the house was in an uproar. She was shown into the parlour where her aunt paced, her brows worried. Madeline Gardiner stopped as soon as she saw Elizabeth and smoothed her countenance.
“Elizabeth, this is a surprise! What brings you to London?”
“Happy news, to be sure, but first I must ask, is something the matter? I cannot recall ever having seen you in such a state.”
“My dear Lizzy, I have no idea how to tell you this. It seems that your sister Lydia has run off with a Mr Wickham.”
Elizabeth blanched. “Oh, dear. That is the most terrible news.”
“Indeed. Lydia left a note saying they were to be married over the anvil in Gretna Green, but their coach was seen heading for London. We believe that they are hiding somewhere in the city, yet unmarried.”
Elizabeth collapsed onto a chaise. “If they do not marry, we shall be ruined, all of us.” When Mr Darcy learns this news, he shall surely break off our engagement. Elizabeth surprised herself by bursting into tears. Perhaps I truly do love Mr Darcy.
“Your uncle is even now combing the streets looking for them. Your father is hastily finishing some estate business at Longbourn, and he shall come to London within a few days to join in the search. But it is as if your uncle is looking for a needle in a haystack. We hold little hope of finding them.” She took Elizabeth’s hands in hers. “But what is your happy news?”
Elizabeth sobbed. “I am to marry Mr Darcy, and I came to ask Uncle’s consent in my father’s stead. But Mr Darcy will surely not have me once he learns of my sister’s foolish actions!”
Elizabeth’s aunt pulled her into an embrace. “Is it not tragic how the thoughtless actions of one sister can ruin the prospects of another who has done nothing wrong? I wish there were some way of mitigating this disaster, but if there is, I know not what it might be.”
When Elizabeth’s uncle arrived that evening, she and her aunt explained her reason for coming to London, decrying Lydia’s foolish actions and lamenting Elizabeth’s circumstances.
Her uncle embraced Elizabeth. “Of course, I will give my blessing for your marriage, and I shall be happy to give you a letter of consent. Madeline grew up not five miles from Pemberley. She has told me much about the family. I have every reason to believe that Mr Darcy is a good man and that he would not blame you for your sister’s actions.
However, you must tell him the news about Lydia and offer to release him from your engagement, for a gentleman of his standing needs to consider more than just his feelings for the woman he is to marry.
It may be terrible for you, but it is the right thing to do. ”
Elizabeth looked up at her uncle, desperately seeking comfort, but not finding it. “You are correct, Uncle, though I wish it were otherwise.”
The next morning, Mr Darcy called at the Gardiners’ residence. Elizabeth could see that Mr Darcy sensed the tension in the household, but she did not want to explain in front of her family.
“Elizabeth,” he asked, “I wonder if we might walk together? St Paul’s Cathedral is not far, and if the bishop is available, I may purchase a licence. Did your uncle give his consent?”
“He did.” Elizabeth steeled herself for the discussion to come. “I would be happy to walk with you, Mr Darcy.”
As soon as they had left the Gardiners’, Mr Darcy asked Elizabeth, “I could not help but notice that you have stopped calling me William. Is something the matter? You do not seem yourself this morning.”
She fought back tears. I will not let myself cry. I will be strong. This is for the best.
“Mr Darcy, there is something I must tell you. I learned last night when I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s house that my sister Lydia has run off with Mr Wickham.”
Mr Darcy’s face flushed. Elizabeth could sense the anger clearly in his eyes, and she knew that any hope for their future was gone. “Wickham,” said he through clenched teeth. “I thought I had dealt with that blackguard!”
“She left a note saying that they were for Gretna Green to be married, but their coach was seen heading in the direction of London. They are likely somewhere in the city, and we fear that Mr Wickham has no intention of marrying her.”
She lost her battle. The floodgates opened, and tears leaked from her eyes. “Mr Darcy, I…realise that you cannot marry a woman with such lowly connections. I”—the words came out as sobs—“release you from our engagement.”
Mr Darcy took both of Elizabeth’s hands. “Please, do not say that, Elizabeth. This changes nothing. I desire to marry you just as much at this moment as I ever have. If there is a scandal, we shall weather it—together.”
Elizabeth looked up at Mr Darcy and shuddered, her tears diminishing with the first signs of hope.
“Do you really mean that, Mr Darcy?”
“Yes, I do mean it.” He kissed her hand. “But you must call me William.”
Elizabeth clutched Darcy’s hands as if she would never let go.
“But you were so angry a moment ago. I saw it in your eyes.”