CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX A Real Engagement
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A Real Engagement
The difference between an accidental engagement and a real one was immediately apparent to Elizabeth because her mother became twice as loud.
“Oh! At last! I mean, of course you were engaged before, but now you are properly engaged, and no one can say anything about fever or broken bones or whether a gentleman knows his own mind when half-dead. Mr. Bennet, did you hear? Lizzy has accepted him again!”
“I am in the same room, my dear.”
“Then why do you look so calm?”
“I have had three months to prepare.”
Mrs. Bennet ignored him and seized Elizabeth’s hands. “My Lizzy! Pemberley! Ten thousand a year! And Jane at Netherfield! Two daughters settled almost at once. Oh, I shall go distracted.”
“You arrived there years ago,” Mr. Bennet murmured.
Elizabeth laughed. Darcy stood near the door with his cane, looking uncertain whether he ought to endure congratulations or retreat. Mrs. Bennet turned on him.
He visibly braced.
Then she embraced him. Darcy’s eyes widened over her shoulder.
Elizabeth covered her mouth.
“My dear Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, crying into his coat, “you are never to fall from another horse as long as you live.”
“I shall endeavour not to, madam.”
“And you must not take Lizzy too far away all the time. Derbyshire is a great distance.”
“Mama.”
“What? It is.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. “Longbourn will always be welcome at Pemberley.”
Mrs. Bennet drew back. “All of us?”
A flicker of alarm crossed his face.
Elizabeth nearly choked.
Darcy recovered. “All of you.”
“Even Lydia?”
“Mama!” Lydia cried. Darcy looked toward the youngest Bennet, whose mouth had fallen open in outrage.
“Especially Lydia,” he said gravely.
Lydia narrowed her eyes. “You are teasing me.”
“Yes.”
She stared. Then she crowed with delight. “La! Lizzy has ruined him. He makes jokes now.”
“I made jokes before.”
“No one noticed.”
Richard leaned against the mantel. “I have been saying that for years.”
Darcy ignored him.
Mr. Bennet requested Darcy’s company in the library after dinner. This time there was no confusion over intentions. “You have asked again?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Lizzy has accepted without medical coercion?”
Darcy’s face tightened with embarrassment. “Yes.”
“Excellent. I approve.”
Darcy blinked.
Mr. Bennet smiled. “You expected a longer interrogation.”
“I expected some questions.”
“I have had three months to question you without your noticing.”
Darcy considered this and found it entirely plausible.
Mr. Bennet poured two glasses of port. “I did not like you when you first came to Hertfordshire.”
Darcy accepted a glass. “Few people did.”
“That is not true. Half the mothers liked your income immediately.”
Darcy almost smiled.
Mr. Bennet’s expression sobered. “I thought you proud. I still think you proud.”
“I am.”
“I thought you too conscious of rank.”
“I was.”
“And I thought you looked at my family and saw only our ridiculous parts.”
Darcy did not evade it. “I did.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes sharpened.
“But,” Darcy continued, “I saw them poorly because I judged without knowing. Your family has faults. So does mine. Lady Catherine alone balances several Bennets.”
Mr. Bennet laughed into his port.
Darcy said, “I cannot promise never to be embarrassed.”
“Good. Lydia would make a liar of you before breakfast.”
“I can promise never to use embarrassment as an excuse for contempt.”
Mr. Bennet lowered his glass. “That answer will do.” He stood and held out his hand.
Darcy took it.
“Take care of her.”
“I will.”
“And let her take care of you when necessary. You are both far too fond of believing yourselves indispensable.”
Darcy smiled faintly. “Yes, sir.”
The engagement was announced properly the next morning. London, which had been treating the matter as settled for months, reacted as though fresh intelligence had arrived. Lady Matlock wrote a triumphant letter.
Georgiana cried. Richard demanded payment on several wagers Elizabeth had not known existed. And at Rosings Park, Lady Catherine received the news while Anne de Bourgh sat across from her at breakfast.
Lady Catherine read the letter, crushed it in one hand, and announced, “It is intolerable.”
Anne buttered her toast. “I think it sounds rather romantic.”
Lady Catherine stared at her.
Anne took a bite.
It was, she reflected, the most enjoyable breakfast she had experienced in years.