Chapter Eight #3
He smiled slightly. “At present, I do not experience any impulse to embark on additional thefts.”
“Good, but what about other crimes? Embezzlement? Forgery?”
“I am not the least provoked to such courses of action.”
“I am relieved to hear it.”
They exited the door, and he offered her his arm. He did not move but regarded her very seriously. “I hope we may emerge from this experience as friends.”
“I would like that,” Elizabeth said and realized she meant it.
***
Darcy suspected that Elizabeth had not yet recognized something that was immediately apparent to him: they were now well and truly betrothed. Elizabeth might beg off, but Darcy was honor-bound to fulfill his promise.
He tugged at the neckcloth constricting his throat.
When only his aunt and Viscount Harwood knew of their supposed engagement, it was easier to imagine breaking it off with little consequence.
But now everyone would know. If Mrs. Bennet failed to tell someone, the viscount’s servants would be sure to inform them.
Only Elizabeth’s promise to jilt him stood between him and certain matrimony.
Even above the cacophony of music and discourse, Mrs. Bennet’s voice could be heard loudly proclaiming Elizabeth’s “triumph.” Darcy had to admire the power of her lungs if not her adherence to propriety.
Indeed, she was forcefully relating her “good news” to a circle of female listeners which included Lady Sterling.
Miss Jane Bennet stood beside her mother, ineffectively urging her to speak more softly.
As they drew closer to the scene, Elizabeth colored and lowered her eyes to her slippers.
Darcy was even more grateful for Elizabeth’s scheme to break the engagement.
What a relief to know he would not be tied to such a silly and vulgar woman for his mother-in-law.
But I must ensure that none of my disgust appears on my face.
Not only would it spoil the illusion of a happily betrothed man, but it would also hurt Elizabeth, and she was already sufficiently mortified by her mother.
He mustered a smile and gave Elizabeth’s hand an affectionate pat where it rested on his arm.
He was beginning to realize what a remarkable individual she was.
Not one woman in a thousand would be capable of finding humor in such a situation.
It was not only her wit that dazzled him, but her resilience.
She was slim and elegant in a dark blue gown, but her heart was as fierce as any of Wellington’s soldiers.
She had survived a silly mother and feckless father without becoming silly and feckless herself—or bitter and critical.
A middle-aged man marched up to Mrs. Bennet and her circle of rapt listeners. Mr. Bennet, Darcy supposed. He was still holding cards in his hand. Someone must have raced into the card room to acquaint Mr. Bennet with the intelligence. He somehow managed to appear simultaneously grumpy and curious.
Elizabeth and Darcy drew close enough to hear their conversation.
“What is all this fuss about?” the man asked Mrs. Bennet.
“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” she exclaimed. “You would not credit it!”
He gave a sardonic smile. “Well, we will never know if you do not make the attempt.”
Unperturbed, Mrs. Bennet continued her effusions. “The most wonderful thing has happened!”
“I am prepared to be delighted,” Mr. Bennet said sourly. “Perhaps I might even jump in the air with glee.”
Darcy was appalled. If he spoke this way to his wife in public, what was their conversation like in private? Did he have no respect for her?
Elizabeth shot Darcy a worried look. She could not be pleased that he witnessed their squabbling.
Mrs. Bennet gave an uncertain laugh. “You delight in teasing me.”
“Just tell me your news!”
Several observers tittered uneasily.
“Lizzy is engaged to Mr. Darcy!”
“Who?”
Many of the guests laughed; everyone knew Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy, who has ten thousand a year. He has proposed to Lizzy.”
Mr. Bennet scowled. “Now you delight in teasing me!”
His wife stomped her foot. “I am in earnest.” She gestured toward the couple. “Here they are. You can ask them yourself.”
Mr. Bennet directed his attention to his daughter, who appeared to be braced for unpleasantness.
“Is this true, Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet’s shoulders practically hunched around his ears.
He noticed how many sets of eyes watched their family drama and, unlike his wife, he recognized how many watched with disapprobation.
“I-I…Yes….” Elizabeth’s face was bright pink. Her parents had turned her betrothal into a spectacle.
Darcy longed to sweep out of the room. The Bennets confirmed his every expectation about their poor breeding. Did they not understand how much they hurt Elizabeth? A small part of Darcy wanted to marry Elizabeth just to remove her from her mortifying family.
“I know it is rather sudden…” Elizabeth said. Her father guffawed, but she continued. “However, Mr. Darcy and I have formed an attachment from the instant we met at the Pritchards’ ball, and I have accepted his offer of marriage.”
“I see.” Mr. Bennet scowled at Darcy, no doubt suspecting some irregularity in their engagement. Many people at the ball probably believed that Darcy had been forced to offer for Elizabeth, which was not far from the truth. But Elizabeth’s love-at-first-sight story gave it a veneer of plausibility.
Darcy cleared his throat. “I apologize for not requesting your permission first, sir.”
“They were in the study!” Mrs. Bennet piped up helpfully.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, clearly wishing for invisibility.
Mr. Bennet examined Darcy, from his hair to his boots.
Darcy withstood the scrutiny stonily; his attire was impeccable, if a bit disheveled.
In fact, Darcy sympathized with the other man’s rage.
He would behave similarly if something like this happened to Georgiana.
Fortunately, Mr. Bennet did not appear to be prone to duels.
However, Darcy and Elizabeth had rendered him a great service that evening—even if he was unaware of it. They were in this situation because of Mr. Bennet’s thoughtless behavior. Knowing this, Darcy found his patience and goodwill diminishing.
“Well, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet finally declared. “This is an auspicious start to your union.” Some of the spectators giggled.
Elizabeth stood very still and met her father’s gaze. “I trust we will be quite happy together.”
Mr. Bennet gave a brisk nod and turned to Darcy. “Very well. Call upon me tomorrow at Sterling House, and we may discuss the details.”
Darcy gave a brief bow. “I will, sir.”