Chapter Ten #3
Increasingly, Darcy found himself eager to call on Elizabeth and anticipating every event.
The days when he would not see her often felt empty.
But when he was with her, London suddenly became far more entertaining.
Accompanied by the Bingley family and Miss Bennet, Darcy took Elizabeth to the opera, Astley’s Amphitheatre, and Vauxhall.
She enjoyed those activities but requested to visit the British Museum.
Darcy should have thought of that himself.
They spent a whole day at the museum, marveling at Egyptian antiquities, Captain Cook’s collection of artifacts from the Indies, and famous manuscripts and books.
Her enthusiasm was boundless; she nearly skipped from one exhibit to the next.
Her passion inspired Darcy’s scholarly interests, which he had often neglected since university.
What a gift to visit the museum in her company! He had few acquaintances who would be interested in such a collection and none who would display their excitement so openly. He could not decide if he enjoyed the museum more for his own sake or because he relished Elizabeth’s enjoyment.
She examined the Greek and Roman statuary with particular interest. “Oh, if only I could read the inscriptions for myself!” she exclaimed after Darcy translated another plaque for her.
“Greek is not easy to learn,” Darcy said and then immediately regretted his words. He did not want to be another person dismissing her interests.
“I have no doubt,” Elizabeth responded with some heat. “But I would have liked the opportunity to attempt it. It makes no sense that such knowledge should be limited to men.”
Before encountering Elizabeth, Darcy had considered it simply the way of the world. But she was correct; there was no rational reason women should not also be taught Greek and Latin.
She scrutinized each statue in a long row. “Have you been to this museum previously?”
“Yes. Before I attended Cambridge.”
Her eyes shone at him. “How fortunate for you!”
Darcy grimaced. “I did not appreciate my good fortune at the time. My tutor brought me when I studied Roman history. But I just longed to ride my horse and fence.”
Elizabeth eyed him sidelong. “Your tutor accompanied you to London, not your father?”
“Yes.” When Darcy conversed with his father, it was with the object of learning about the estate. They rarely even dined together. “My father was exceedingly busy. It was not long after my mother’s death.”
“He must have grieved deeply.”
“Yes, but he concealed it. He had a responsibility to the tenants, everyone who depended on Pemberley and the family.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose. Darcy did not know why. Duty came first. Everyone knew that.
“That seems to be a…difficult way to live,” she said, appearing to choose each word with care. “Poor man.”
Darcy frowned at her. His father had been one of the wealthiest men in Derbyshire. Nobody had pitied him. Pemberley was an estate to be proud of. Certainly, his father had been happy.… Had he not?
The next room was full of Roman busts. Elizabeth gasped rapturously, “Oh, Mr. Darcy! One of these men must have been your ancestor. You have the same nobleness of mien.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I am unaware of any Italian blood in my lineage.”
“Which one do you resemble the most?” she asked. “Let me see!”
She ordered him to stand next to one bust after another, comparing noses and foreheads. Bemused and amused, Darcy complied. After they had exhausted all the choices, she made her determination.
“You most resemble Emperor Augustus!” she declared.
Darcy was uncertain if this was a compliment. “As long as I resemble him in appearance and not temperament. He had a rather bloody path to power.”
“As did most of the emperors.”
“Yes.” Darcy glanced around the room. “A shame that I did not resemble a historian or philosopher.”
“Most of them had beards,” Elizabeth observed.
He grimaced. “Condemned to imperial ambitions by a clean-shaven chin.”
Elizabeth’s face lit with merriment. “Mr. Darcy, did you make a joke?”
“I do not know. Did it make you laugh?” he responded playfully.
“I smiled. It definitely counted as a joke.”
“I have been known to tell them before I met you.”
Elizabeth sobered. “I have no doubt. You are quite a clever man.”
They stood only inches apart in the empty gallery. How did we move so close to each other in such a large room? Why is it so warm? Darcy’s thoughts were too muddled for a witty reply. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Surely we are familiar enough that you might call me ‘Elizabeth.’ We are engaged after all.” She gave him a diffident smile.
“And you must call me ‘William.’”
“William.” Had any woman ever in the history of the world ever shone so beautifully?
“You would be a wonderful husband,” she murmured, gazing up at him tenderly.
Her faith in him was like a tonic. Not only did she enjoy his company, but she understood him in a way that no woman ever had. Darcy closed the distance between them. Her lips were so close, soft and ready to be kissed.