Chapter Nineteen
Bennet strode to the imposing desk, took his place behind it, and motioned for Mr. Darcy to sit opposite him. Once Darcy was settled, only the solitary ticking from the clock above the mantel filled the silence. Determined to command the encounter, Bennet at last broke the quiet.
“I never imagined I would see you again after the ball at Netherfield,” he began, his voice firm but not unkind.
“You made it abundantly clear to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst that you held all of Meryton, and my family in particular, in the highest contempt. You declared my daughters ill-placed by their low connections, and you deemed the frivolous conduct of my two youngest completely unbecoming for any gentleman of standing. You even agreed Mr. Bingley should be advised against pursuing Jane, insisting her amiable manner revealed no particular attachment. That she treated all admirers the same.”
Bennet could not conceal his pleasure when Darcy’s eyes widened in recognition of his previously held sentiment.
“How did you…?” Darcy began, frowning. “I have only ever spoken those thoughts in private to Bingley’s sisters at his ball.”
Bennet leaned back, one arm resting on the desk.
Sunlight from the nearby window gleamed on his knuckles as he tapped the wood.
“You and your companions were too arrogant to ensure the room, in which you chose to conspire, was empty. I had withdrawn there to read an express announcing my cousin’s death and my succession to the earldom.
You cannot imagine how I longed to confront you all, especially those two harridans.
Pray tell, how do you endure such duplicity? ”
“I do not understand. What do you mean by duplicity?” Darcy said, his voice low.
“Allow me to elucidate,” Bennet replied, settling back in his chair with the unhurried ease of a man who has long since ceased to be impressed.
“You are the grandson and nephew of an earl, and yet you spent two months under the roof of a tradesman’s son, eating his food and sleeping in his beds.
Under that same roof, you thought it fitting to slight the daughters of a gentleman whose family held land before your uncle’s earldom had a name to put on a deed.
And, before the title, before the estate, before any of it, we Bennets were still gentleman farmers who owned the ground beneath their boots and answered to no one for it.
” The fire had burned low, and in the dim room Bennet’s expression was difficult to read.
“The very moment you and your companions quit that room – the door had scarcely closed behind you – I resolved to remove my family from Netherfield Park and Hertfordshire entirely. I will not pretend the decision cost me nothing. It was Jane I thought of, Jane who had done nothing to deserve such censure, and Jane who I knew would feel it most acutely and say the least about it.”
“I have apologised to Lady Jane for my part in detaining Bingley in London, and explained his financial troubles,” Darcy said, fresh remorse over his previous behaviour hitting him hard.
“Though meddling in their friendship was beneath me, I cannot repine the outcome. Had Bingley returned and successfully courted your daughter, she would have been drawn into the quagmire of his impending ruin.”
Bennet leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “My man of business informed me of Mr. Bingley’s troubles,” he said evenly. “I must confess I bore you no goodwill, Mr. Darcy, yet your letter, especially your apology for branding Elizabeth as ‘tolerable’, did much to temper my anger.”
Darcy inclined his head, the tension draining from his shoulders. “I have long regretted my behaviour last autumn. Family obligations weighed upon me, and I ought to have declined Bingley’s invitation.”
Bennet allowed himself a wry smile. “Ah, but then you never would have met Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s lips curved. “True, but my aunt, Lady Matlock, is an intimate acquaintance of Mrs. Gardiner. Our paths in London would surely have crossed.”
“At least, then, my daughter would have met your exacting standards.”
“Your daughter has always met them,” Darcy admitted, his dark gaze warming. “I was lost to her fine eyes within two weeks of arriving in Hertfordshire.”
“I knew it!” Bennet said with a laugh, and slapped his knee. “You fought the attraction too fiercely for someone who did not care. Well, ask what you came to ask, and let us end this dance.”
Bennet savoured the look of surprise on Darcy’s face.
He had already resolved to forgive him. Elizabeth would expect nothing less.
Her recent letters praised Darcy and his sister so warmly that the old anger he had felt that November night had all but vanished.
It also helped that Morgan’s news, informing him that Darcy had asked to call on Elizabeth before learning of their altered circumstances, had softened him further.
“Well… I…” Darcy began. “I was privileged to spend some time with your daughter when we were both in Kent, and it was there I realised my feelings had grown beyond admiration to love and was about to propose marriage, when she asked why. Why did I love her?” He smiled at the memory.
“Her question startled me, and after a candid conversation, I amended my intention to propose into a request to call upon her, so we might truly get to know one another.”
“Are you not a little late with asking for my consent? Call it any name you like, but you and my daughter have already spent two months courting.”
“That is true, and I wish to now ask your permission for her hand in marriage,” Darcy said, his voice earnest.
Bennet studied him for a long moment, then straightened. He had not anticipated this, at least, not at this juncture. “Is Elizabeth aware you hope to take this further?”
“She has long known my feelings, and this afternoon she told me her heart is almost equal in affection to mine.”
“In that case, you have my full consent and blessing.” Bennet stood and extended his hand, which Darcy eagerly took. “I could not let my brightest daughter wed a man who could not, or would not respect her intellect and joie de vivre.”
“I have nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for your daughter. She inspires me to be a better man.”
“That is all a father could ask for… at least until settlement papers are signed,” Bennet teased, shepherding Darcy towards the library door. “Go find Lizzy and tell her that I will see her at dinner.”
Darcy turned and held Bennet’s gaze.
“Thank you, sir. I will not let you down.”
“I know,” he said and stepped back into the library, closing the door behind him.
“You were easy on him, Thomas,” his countess said softly, peering around the tall chair that had hidden her from view.
Bennet grinned, loving the soft look of his wife with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders. He scooped her up, seating her on his lap with a flourish, then claimed her lips in a tender kiss.
“I had to scold him a little, give my concession for their continued courtship — lest our second daughter rain wrath upon me — and then shoo him away so I could give my full attention to my beautiful wife.” He cradled her with one arm. “I am so very glad you decided to join me in my library.”
“What else was I to do?” she said, tracing the contours of his familiar face with her fingertips. “I was starting to forget what you looked like.”
“What say you to me promising to spend only two hours a day in the library?” he suggested. “The rest of my time will be spent on estate matters, tea with you, or whatever else you desire.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You would do that? For me?”
“Franny, no book can replace you. I enjoy reading, that is true, but the memories I cherish are those where you are first and foremost among them.”
His wife rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled her even closer. “I love you, Thomas.”
“And I love you, Frances.” He kissed the top of her head as the lamplight flickered around them, and the library clock ticked on into the late afternoon.
The following morning, a low mist still clung to the surface of the lake when Elizabeth found herself on the winding path that skirted its edge, her half-boots darkening with dew at every step.
She had not expected company, yet when the path curved past a stand of birch, there stood Mr. Darcy, his dark coat collar turned against the morning chill, and neither made any pretense of surprise.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth lifted her face to him, her voice bright against the quiet of dawn.
“I am reacquainting myself with the local flora and fauna. Until now, we visited Tetherwood only briefly; but, now that it is our home, the landscape takes on an entirely new character, if you apprehend my meaning.”
“I understand perfectly.” He was quiet for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back as they walked.
“After my father’s death, Pemberley appeared transformed to me.
I could never have explained it. I had lived there all my life, but the moment I realised I held every responsibility, my view of the place shifted completely. ”
“Precisely,” she agreed. The path curved closer to the water, and for a moment their reflection shimmered on the still surface beneath them. “I know we shall never return to Meryton…”
Darcy’s brow lifted. “Not even to marry in your childhood parish?”
She lowered her eyes as a soft blush colored her cheeks. “Not even then. Longbourn is leased to a most reliable tenant, so there really is no need.” She paused, then added in a gentler tone, “When I marry, it will be at St. George’s, Hanover Square.”
A spark of delight kindled in his dark eyes. “That is my parish as well, that is, whenever I am away from Pemberley.”
“What a delightful coincidence,” she said, laughter dancing in her voice like sunbeams on water.
He came to a halt, his usual reserve slipping away. The air between them felt electric. “So, you are content to be married at St. George’s?”
“I am.”