Chapter 7 #2
This changes so much. Everything! He might yield to his attraction to her and see if it grew into a decided preference, if she was, as he already suspected, the lady he was meant to marry and spend his life with.
While he was lost in his private reflections, everyone had sat, and the countess and Elizabeth—with occasional interruptions by Bramwell and Fitzwilliam—were explaining how she had come to realise she was related to Lady Romsley.
Hearing that Mr Bennet could not recall the substance of his sister’s letter, Darcy almost rolled his eyes.
How like the man! That Mr Bennet had believed the documents regarding Elizabeth’s circumstances lost in a fire at his solicitor’s office was no excuse; he ought to have retained a copy of his own.
Darcy had left Hertfordshire with no particularly positive feelings towards him; he did not take care of his wife and daughters as he should, chiefly by insisting they behave with decorum.
In that family, only Miss Bennet and Elizabeth knew what it was to act as gentlewomen.
For his aunt’s sake, he was glad Elizabeth had managed to become such an estimable young woman, despite Mr and Mrs Bennet’s failures.
Immediately, Darcy realised he was being unnecessarily harsh. The Bennets had taken her in and raised her as their own daughter; for that, they should be praised. And, whatever their faults, they must have some goodness in them, given that Elizabeth loved them.
The party spent another quarter of an hour in the drawing room before going in to dinner. During that interval, Georgiana had sat close to Elizabeth and their aunt. His sister was livelier than he had seen her in months, her eyes wide and lips parted as she had listened to the ladies.
“What do you think?” Fitzwilliam said as they walked to the dining room together.
“It is an extraordinary coincidence,” he replied. “I do not know what more you want me to say. Not that there is time to talk about it presently.”
“I assume you know no evil of her. She seems to be—”
“Your mother and Mr Sterling could not ask for a better niece,” he interjected. “I am convinced she wants only what she claims—to know her father’s people. She will be a credit to your family.”
In the dining room, the two men parted ways, Darcy to sit next to his uncle at one side of the table, Fitzwilliam next to his mother at the opposite corner.
Darcy felt his cousin watching him speculatively, but he was determined not to give any sign that he and Elizabeth had been more than indifferent acquaintances in Hertfordshire.
But why should he be so cautious? No barriers remained between them.
Nothing existed to stop them from becoming friends and, unless he was entirely mistaken regarding his feelings for her, far more than friends.
Clearly, the countess wanted them all to think of one another as family, and he suspected his relations, including his father’s people, would be extremely pleased were they to strengthen the bonds between the Fitzwilliams and Darcys by marrying.
Lady Catherine was the exception; his maternal aunt had spent years attempting to convince him that her daughter would be the perfect wife for him and that marrying her was what his mother had long desired.
He had steadfastly refused to consider it, because he felt no special regard for Anne de Bourgh and did not believe he would like having Lady Catherine as a mother-in-law.
To put it kindly, she would be interfering.
Partway through the meal, the earl said to the countess, “You must permit Elizabeth to eat. You have all the time you need to learn every detail of her life.”
Lady Romsley laughed, sounding as happy as he recalled ever hearing her, and her cheeks were pink. With a hand covering Elizabeth’s, she said, “I know he is right. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Elizabeth said, fondness in her tone.
“As I have said, I have dreamt of learning more about my father and his family for as long as I can remember. I must have asked you a thousand questions earlier, which means I should be the one asking your forgiveness.” Turning to Georgiana, who sat across the table, she added, “Lady Romsley and I spent the afternoon together. That is the only reason you are not forced to hear my litany of questions, which are mostly inconsequential in nature, yet so important to sketching what someone was like.”
Darcy wished he could see her more fully; he imagined her eyes were dancing, and if she was also smiling, he would be tempted to make plain what he had struggled to conceal in Hertfordshire—that he liked her very well indeed.
“What do you mean?” Georgiana asked. “What sort of questions?”
Elizabeth chuckled. “Oh, what games he liked to play as a boy, what food he especially disliked. I discovered we both have an aversion to turnips, which has always been a trial to me, since every single Bennet absolutely loves them and they appear at more meals than you would suppose possible.”
Everyone laughed, some heartily, especially Bramwell and Fitzwilliam. Even Darcy emitted a chuckle of his own.
“I am certain we shall find a likeness of him when we are at Hillsdale,” Lady Romsley said.
“My father may have ordered them all removed, but I doubt my mother would have allowed them to be destroyed, even if it meant deceiving my father. My brother Robert must have one, and I often made Thomas pose for me when my governess demanded I improve my drawing. I suspect a trunk or two of my belongings from before I entered society are still in the attics.”
The conversation continued and traversed many topics, with an apparent view of Elizabeth getting to know her relations as quickly as possible and vice versa.
Georgiana listened eagerly—Darcy was pleased to see how well she already liked Elizabeth—while he was content to sit quietly and observe.
Suddenly, his life had taken on an entirely different aspect.
For the first time, he foresaw a future filled with the joy that must come from being married to a woman you truly respected, admired, and loved.
He could—he would—have that with Elizabeth.