Chapter Thirty
Lydia was the only one who saw them go; she put her hand to her mouth, eyes twinkling, but nodded at Elizabeth. Elizabeth smiled back at her in return as she and Darcy slipped out of the room.
It was a warm day; she caught up her bonnet as they passed through the hall but did not bother with a pelisse. The moment they were out of sight of the house, Darcy took her hand in his and Elizabeth was pleased to let him, smiling up at him with great joy.
“To see you smile so, at me, surpasses my greatest hopes,” he told her.
“My dear Will,” she told him, “seeing you again brings me great joy, even without your having brought me such happy news. Charlotte is happy, is she not?”
“She is, and Anne is overjoyed for her. Charlotte does not intend to wait for a year of mourning to be over; it is now known around Hunsford that Collins was an abusive husband.”
“It is?” Elizabeth said, startled.
“The bruises on Charlotte’s neck could not be completely hidden from all the people who came to pay their condolences, Elizabeth. There was talk; and Dr. Trent felt — rather understandably — disinclined to lie to protect the reputation of a dead man, and one who had almost killed his own wife.”
“I see.”
“Your name has not been whispered though, I am assured,” Darcy squeezed her fingers gently. “Your reputation is safe, and even Charlotte’s decision to quickly remarry is considered above reproach, especially with Anne’s blessing and that of the new parson.”
“The new parson?”
“A young man from Pemberley, as it happens, who has recently been ordained.”
“All is arranged to Mr. Darcy’s satisfaction,” Elizabeth said lightly.
“To yours, too, I should hope,” he bent an earnest glance upon her.
“Your fondness for Charlotte is evident, and I assure you that Dr. Trent loves her deeply. If you wish it, you shall see for yourself. They plan to marry at the end of September and Anne has charged me with making arrangements to convey the entire Lucas and Bennet families to Rosings, to stay there at her invitation, for the happy occasion.”
Astonished, Elizabeth gaped. “That is extraordinarily generous of Anne!”
“I suspect her of ulterior motives, actually. With Charlotte marrying and of course moving to Dr. Trent’s home, I think Anne is a little concerned that she may be lonely.
I believe she plans to possibly ask one — or more — of your sisters, or perhaps Miss Lucas, to go and reside with her for a while. ”
Pleased at the idea, Elizabeth smiled up at him. “I am sure that we should be delighted to attend Charlotte’s wedding, and I shall be very glad to see Anne again, if she is sure that she is ready to be overwhelmed with a houseful of Bennets and Lucases!”
“Rosings is large enough to contain you all,” Darcy said laughingly, and then, with great daring, “as would Pemberley be.”
“Would it?” Elizabeth asked softly. “When might we all have occasion to see Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?”
“Why, on the momentous occasion of one of the Misses Bennet becoming Pemberley’s mistress,” Darcy replied, his heart in his eyes as he stopped walking and turned to face Elizabeth, taking her other hand so that he held them both before dropping to one knee before her.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. You are too generous to trifle with me. If you cannot come to feel for me as powerful a regard as I have held for you these many months, pray tell me so now and I will forevermore be silent on the matter.”
“Oh, no,” Elizabeth cried, “be silent, when you speak to me so? Never!” Happy tears welled in her eyes; she drew his hands to her lips and kissed them. “Keep speaking, my darling Will, keep saying these wondrous things!”
Laughing with relief, he stood and drew her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and whirling her around. “You will, my Lizzy, you truly will marry me?”
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” she cried in return, and he set her down before taking her face gently between his hands and kissing her with the greatest tenderness and love imaginable.
~ The End ~
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