Chapter Twenty-Four #2
It was a happy party in the box at the theatre that evening. The Gardiners, Elizabeth, Jane, Georgiana, Darcy, and Mr. Bingley made up an excellent group, comfortably familiar with each other, and all of them, except for Mr. Bingley, most familiar with Shakespeare.
Mr. Bingley laughingly discounted having read any of the plays more than once.
He sat next to Jane and took the office that Elizabeth had planned to occupy herself with, of giving her sister a minute description of the decorations, the costumes of the actors, the arrangement of the stage and the actors, and how crowded the seats below were.
When the actors stepped out and began to speak, Jane lost little from not being able to see them, for this was a fine troupe, and the voices brought additional emotion and shades of meaning to the play.
Elizabeth sobbed at the scene where Macduff learned of the deaths of his wife and children.
Darcy gripped Elizabeth’s hand and then held it tight against his heart as Macduff spoke:
He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam at one fell swoop?
Her husband’s face was covered with tears that glimmered in the dim lamplight.
Macduff’s killing of Macbeth had a hollowness to Elizabeth. It was a thing of revenge; and vengeance was never worth the loss of the thing that must be avenged.
That was what Elizabeth said as soon as the play ended.
Darcy had wiped his eyes, and they now looked clear, with only a hint of redness around the edges.
“Yes,” he replied. “Times are when duty might force a man to do that which will cost him such things that are most precious to him. I pray to God that I never need to face such a choice as Macduff.”
“Lord!” Mr. Bingley exclaimed. “It is merely a play. Do not take it so much to heart.”
“I never, never,” Darcy said, “experienced that scene properly until now when I saw it as a father. Was it not written shortly after Shakespeare’s son had died?”
“I think it had been some years,” Elizabeth replied. “Perhaps ten or so.”
“That must have helped him know how to write the man—no, Shakespeare is the glory of the language because he can write any form of person, whether from his own experience or not, and make us understand them.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded. “I had much the same experience of rereading old favourites after Beth was born and understanding them in a wholly new way.”
When they reached home, they looked in on Emily peacefully sleeping.
Elizabeth kissed Darcy as soon as they entered their suite. “Thank you, thank you for thinking of the play.”
Darcy kissed her back and then whispered, “I saw the poster and thought it would make you happy to watch.”
“Very much. You always make me happy. So very happy to be with you.”
Rather than continuing to kiss her as she had expected, Darcy paused.
“What is it?” Elizabeth had noticed that on occasion he hesitated or acted in a strange manner when she made verbal expressions of affection towards him.
“I only…” Darcy pulled her against him and hugged her tightly. “It is only now, after these few months together, that I am beginning, deep in my soul, to truly believe that I make you happier.”
“I am happy. And week by week, as we have come to know each other better, I have become even happier.”
“I know. Only, at first I expected that you would come to despise me the better you knew me.”
She pressed her hand to his cheek and softly kissed him, enjoying the closeness and the taste of her husband’s lips.
“But you truly do not despise me?” Darcy said.
Elizabeth laughed. “Quite the opposite…I…” She felt choked. She could not say aloud to him all that he had come to mean to her. But she should, even if she was frightened that he could not return the sentiment.
“I admire and love you.” Darcy spoke before her.
He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “I love you. I think I have been slowly falling in love with you since the first time I saw you.”
“When you promptly declared that I was too pretty to dance with?” Elizabeth laughed.
“I was so filled with fear. I tried…I tried to…to not feel so much. It is still frightening.”
“I love you. I do love you dearly,” Elizabeth replied. “I have…I certainly liked to look at you and listen to you from the first time we spoke. I have been falling in love with you at least since I was trapped at Netherfield following that fall from my horse.”
Darcy laughed. “And to think, your mother’s scheme succeeded.”
“I never told you that it was a scheme.” Elizabeth giggled.
“A girl who hates to ride horses sent off across three miles of fields in the middle of a storm? She hoped you would fall from the horse.”
Elizabeth laughed again. “She hoped that Mr. Bingley would fall in love with me. She had no hopes for you.” Elizabeth pulled herself up stiffly. “You must have a word with Mr. Bingley. I think he has made my sister fall in love with him, and he ought to speak to her much less.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Darcy laughed.
“I am quite serious. Just because Jane is blind, it does not mean that she does not have feelings or that they do not deserve the same consideration that would be given to any other woman.”
“Mr. Bingley spent twenty minutes speaking to me about nothing but the beauty of Jane’s face and figure this afternoon, before asking me for advice upon how best to propose to her.”
“What? He means to? But she is blind!”
“Now who judges your sister’s worth unfairly?
” Darcy touched Elizabeth’s nose. “My dear, dear lovely wife, a woman such as your sister cannot fail to attract men if they are given the opportunity to know her well. From what Bingley said, he has only delayed so long as this out of a fear that her feelings might not be strong, but the past weeks without her presence have convinced him that he is miserable when she is not near, and he must risk asking.”
“And he asked you for advice on what to say to Jane?” Elizabeth asked, still all astonishment. But it did make perfect sense of their behaviour at the theatre.
“He considered me an expert on making proposals of marriage as I have done it twice. It fortunately took me little effort to convince him that I have no notion about how to do the task properly.”
Elizabeth giggled. “You did not tell him to confess all his faults, even those that he only imagines himself to have? After, of course, asking whether she has already accepted a different man?”
“I suggested the use of words to make the proposal,” Darcy replied with a smile in his voice. “I thought that advice not likely to harm.”
“If he still wishes to consult someone upon the matter,” Elizabeth said, “you can suggest that he ask me.”
“What he hopes is that we shall be home to callers tomorrow.”
“Ah, a chance for a private interview. Clever man. I shall employ Emily to contrive a situation that requires us to leave the two of them alone for some time. She delights in being useful, and this is a task that she is particularly well suited for.”
“You recall,” Darcy said, “that she recently had designs upon a sack of flour. You might have a frazzled servant covered in the stuff run in to tell us that she has succeeded. I shall tomorrow morning, before Bingley arrives, explain the plan to Emily and Rose.”
“Precisely the thing!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Nothing could make Emily happier than being given such permission. This is why I love you!”
“And that you are always paying attention to ways to involve Emily in such endeavours is one of the many things that cause me to love you.”
“And what might be another of my admirable virtues?” Elizabeth asked in an arch tone.
Darcy kissed her sweetly. “Your lips are an important one.”
“If we went to bed,” Elizabeth said, when they parted from the kiss, “you might display some more of your loveable manly virtues.”
“Your wish is my command.” And he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.