“Charles.” Darcy halted his friend with a raised hand. “Your gracious rise to my defense is appreciated but unnecessary.” He turned to Mr. Bennet, whose expression was unreadable. “There is some truth to Bingley’s claims, insofar as my desire to be at Pemberley rather than here. Nevertheless, only I am responsible for my actions and words.”
He paused to inhale, keeping his gaze level with Mr. Bennet’s. “I am the master of my choices and my moods. Indeed, I was in a temper that night and confess with shame that I did scant to hide it. I also confess that my former prejudices blinded me—in many ways. I hope I can prove to you, sir, that my attitudes have severely changed since then, in large part due to your fine daughter. Yet, at that time and on that night, foul mood or not, when I said that I did not warrant Miss Elizabeth as a temptation to me, or as particularly handsome, I meant it.”
“I see.” Mr. Bennet nodded once. Then his serious expression faltered, a small smile playing about his lips. “Your honesty is refreshing, Mr. Darcy. And you need not worry at my displeasure in your confession. As I said, we already know the truth of your initial thoughts toward Lizzy. Others were appalled, such as Mrs. Bennet. Mothers tend to consider physical appearance and the ability to flirt with skill as the two most important attributes to ensnare a husband. Many fathers do as well, I suppose, so if one of those abilities fail it is a devastating blow!”
Darcy remained standing with Parzival and the glass of brandy clutched forgotten in his hands. Unsure whether he had salvaged matters or muddled them worse, he kept silent.
“In the case of Jane,” Mr. Bennet resumed with a smile toward Bingley, “she was blessed with beauty outwardly and of the soul. Her fault, as seen from the standpoint of attracting a suitor easily, is her reserve.”
Bingley diverted his eyes from Mr. Bennet. How true those words were! As admirable as Bingley considered Jane’s modesty and gentleness, and as fully as he blamed himself for allowing others to persuade him rather than following his heart, if Jane had shown her favor toward him from the beginning, they might well be married long since.
“Lizzy is quite another matter.” Mr. Bennet went on, studying Darcy’s face as he talked, “She is clever, witty, and intelligent. She is also well aware of this. Some would and have argued that she is too aware and prideful of her cleverness.” He shrugged, the gesture apparent to Darcy as a disagreement with this assessment of his favored daughter. “Her gaiety, humor, and frequent laughter is genuine, yet not as a means to entice or mask a dull mind.” He chuckled. “You are not the first man, Mr. Darcy, to be mistaken about and surprised by Lizzy.”
Abrupt, blinding jealousy surged through Darcy’s body. Not the first man? What in blazes did that mean? Luckily, Mr. Bennet answered the questions Darcy was in no condition to voice without growling.
“Lizzy’s handsomeness is often overlooked when compared to Jane, and because she rarely primps to feed her vanity, as most girls do. I have no problem with this, so long as my daughter’s numerous internal attributes are recognized and appreciated. This appears to be the case with you, Mr. Darcy, as it certainly was not with Collins, thus I am pleased—”
“Collins?” Darcy blurted. “My aunt’s rector, Mr. Collins?”
Mr. Bennet’s brows lifted as he nodded. “The same, yes.” Then he laughed. “I see Lizzy has not shared that information with you. Interesting. I suspect you may discover that rejected proposal rivals yours.”
A multitude of emotions swirled through Darcy’s head. Collins? Elizabeth married to that imbecile was a vision he could not begin to fathom. Of course, a woman as confident and wise as Elizabeth Bennet would never agree to marry a man like that! Still, the fact was Collins had asked, and she could have said yes.
Darcy shuddered. How many other proposals has she received? What a fool to presume I am the first to be bewitched by her myriad charms!
Assaulted by waves of relief, a fresh rush of consuming love, and a frantic urge to finalize their union so she would be his irrevocably, Darcy fell weakly into the nearby chair. Sifting rapidly through all that had been said since entering Mr. Bennet’s study, Darcy latched on to the one point most pertinent.
Raising his head, he held Mr. Bennet’s eyes and spoke in a voice remarkably steady considering the roiling emotions within. “I was, most assuredly and to my shame, monumentally mistaken in my initial assessment and dismissal of Miss Elizabeth. However, I promise you, Mr. Bennet, that learning of my error, identifying, as you stated it, the numerous internal attributes Miss Elizabeth possesses, has been nothing short of a miraculous development welcomed with all my being.”
He paused to inhale, calming the residual turmoil before plunging ahead. “Of the assorted joys in being her husband, few, I venture, shall rival the joys of provoking debate, discussing literature”—he waved toward the stacks of books surrounding—“and witnessing her superb intellect in motion as Mistress of Pemberley.”
“A fine speech. Words of truth, I can tell. Of course, if the library at Pemberley is as vast as Lizzy has told me, you may find it a challenge to pull her away for household duties.”
Darcy relaxed at Mr. Bennet’s lighthearted tone. “Fortunately, the harsh winter of Derbyshire translates to little happening with the estate and infrequent visitors, so our first months will allot hours for lounging in the library.”
“Or, more likely now that it is apparent that you are, indeed, tempted by Lizzy’s handsomeness, another chamber may hold a higher allure.”
Darcy’s jaw dropped and he felt heat flooding his cheeks. Whether this was primarily due to extreme embarrassment at such a subject even hinted at by Elizabeth’s father—and with Bingley present no less—or due to the vivid visual of a semiclothed Elizabeth spread across his bed, Darcy could not honestly say.
Thankfully, Mr. Bennet made no additional references to marital relations, instead turning to the map of England pinned to the wall behind his desk. “Winter in Derbyshire,” he murmured. “I forgot that fact. Roads are unsafe for travel, and foul weather is the norm. Too much time isolated alone, so far from family, may not be a wise choice for one as social as Lizzy. I think a spring wedding would therefore be best.”
“Sir! You cannot be serious! That is five or more months from now!”
Bingley’s verbal outburst, leap from his chair, and uncharacteristically choleric expression startled both Darcy and Mr. Bennet. Darcy was equally incensed at the idea of waiting until the following year to marry Elizabeth. He simply had not expected Bingley to explode first—or to launch into a tirade.
“I mean no offense, and respect your opinion, sir, but I protest vehemently! I have said nothing as yet on setting a date for marrying Jane, in all honesty content to enjoy our season of courtship. Also because it never occurred to me that a lengthy engagement spread before us. Nor has that been a concern of Jane’s. In fact, we have discussed our plans and future with the presumption that well before Christmastide we would be husband and wife. Please do not—”
“Calm yourself, Mr. Bingley. I was referring to Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, not you and Jane. Unless Mrs. Bennet’s idea of a double wedding was on your mind?”
“I cannot say I have had time to dwell upon the prospect, Darcy’s engagement unknown to me until hours ago, but I am not averse to the idea, no. Nevertheless”—Bingley stepped closer to Mr. Bennet’s desk—“whether our marriages occur together or not, neither of us nor our ladies should suffer the agony of waiting until spring. A handful of weeks, to organize the ceremony, announce the banns, and make preparations for our brides, is understandable and necessary, especially for Darcy, with Pemberley a distance away. Beyond that, I beg you, sir, do not insist.”
Mr. Bennet stared at Bingley for another minute, then down at his hands clenched tensely on his lap, and eventually over at Darcy. “You are strangely silent, Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Bingley has spoken succinctly, and since I agree with him wholeheartedly on each point, I see no purpose in elaborating.”
No
r do I think a threat to abscond with Elizabeth straight to Gretna Green if not permitted to marry soon will help my case.
“The ardency of love.” Mr. Bennet grunted. “I am not so old that I have forgotten what that feels like. And the paradox is that if ardency was not strong, I would be concerned as well. Hmm. It is clear I am overruled then. No question that Lizzy and Jane will agree with you two, but worst of all would be Mrs. Bennet’s dismay if forced to postpone her visible triumph at marrying two of her daughters to such eligible gentlemen. Frankly, that prospect is more than I can bear. Very well then. Hand me that calendar, Mr. Bingley.”
* * *
As Lady Catherine de Bourgh had recently pronounced, the park surrounding Longbourn was small, especially compared to Rosings or Pemberley. It is also true that size is a relative measure, and any space can be utilized wisely and maintained.
Lizzy considered the gardens, graveled walkways, sheltered copses, cobbled patios, hedge-rimmed pond, lawned areas, and stable yard surrounding Longbourn more than adequate for childhood adventures—and mature pleasures. Prior to tonight, she had not thought to wonder whether Mr. Darcy’s opinion would lean toward agreement with his aunt or be in line with hers. While Lady Catherine’s dismissal of the garden bothered Lizzy not one whit, she did hope Mr. Darcy assessment was favorable. She foresaw them passing many hours strolling there in the weeks to come.
At least he has not said anything negative. She glanced upward at his serene face. Nor has he said anything positive, as far as that goes!
For fifteen minutes, since leaving the house, they had wandered in silence. The only sounds, aside from those of nature, were the soft tones of conversation coming from Jane and Mr. Bingley. They walked several feet ahead of Lizzy and her betrothed, and, she noted, were veering toward a tall elm tree under which sat a lone bench sized for only two people. Another swift glance at Mr. Darcy revealed nothing as to his thoughts on that development. By all appearances, he was content to placidly gaze at the starlit sky and passing foliage. Even his subtle leading in the opposite direction from the elm and newly occupied bench could be interpreted as sheer accident for all the obvious awareness he extended.
Lizzy bit her lip. She was undecided whether his silence was a sign of tranquility or if he was wrestling with weighty matters. After spending nearly an hour holed up with Mr. Bingley and her father, her imagination had run amok, leaving her unusually tongue-tied. That annoyed her more than anything!
“Mr. Bennet mentioned that you ritually stroll in the garden after dinner. Was he speaking literally?”
He spoke barely above a whisper, yet after a quarter of an hour yearning for him to break the silence, Lizzy jumped what felt like a foot in the air. “I…yes…I do…stroll, if weather permits, that is. If I sit still after a large meal I feel…weighted down, I suppose is one way to describe it. Unless engaged in active entertainment of some sort, I inevitably chafe to move and breathe fresh air.”
“While staying at Netherfield when Jane was ill, I recall seeing you duck onto the terrace a time or two. Of course, I could not be certain if it was a need for air or to escape from Miss Bingley.”
Lizzy’s eyes opened wide. “Am I correct, Mr. Darcy, in that you are making a joke at another person’s expense?”
He smiled and looked at her for the first time—that she was aware of—since their walk began. “It does happen upon occasion, Elizabeth. I shan’t make a habit of it if humor from me is too shocking for your system to assimilate. As pleasant as it may be for me to perform tasks necessary to revive you, I still would not wish to see you faint at my feet.”
“I think I can adjust well enough not to faint, but I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing.”
“Always. Your wellbeing is my prime concern, Elizabeth.” His timbre dropped into a husky purr, and for a split second, she thought he started to lower his head toward her. Then the moment passed, and once again he was smiling serenely and gazing at the skyline as they commenced walking. “I was pleased to hear Mr. Bennet mention your propensity for a nightly stroll,” he resumed in a normal tone, “because it has, for as long as my memory serves, been a habit of mine.”
“Truly?”
“Yes indeed. Depending on weather, as you noted, or if we have guests, I make it a priority to exit the house either immediately after dining or before retiring to my chambers. I will not go so far as to say I cannot sleep if unable to do so, but it is close.”
They reached a low wall of mortared bricks that separated the cultivated garden from the wild meadow beyond. The elm-shrouded bench where Mr. Bingley and Jane sat was close enough to easily see them through the shadowy leaves of tall trees and shrub hedges, but far enough that distinct words could not be heard within the murmured voices.
Darcy continued to stare into the star-dotted sky. Lizzy stopped some four feet to his right and studied his relaxed posture and peaceful face while ostensibly admiring a flower picked randomly from a nearby pot. After a minute in which he showed no sign of speaking, Lizzy resumed the prior topic.
“Do you have a designated route to your nightly walks, Mr. Darcy, or does spontaneity guide your feet?”
He released a low chuckle and turned toward her. “I daresay the word spontaneity is not one you expect to be attributed to me, am I correct?” He chuckled again when she shook her head. “If in London, my choices are limited, as you will see eventually when I show you our house on Grosvenor Square. Pemberley is another matter entirely, the options myriad, as you might imagine having been there. The majority of my strolls stay close to the house, starting on the terrace, drifting through the numerous paths available, and not lasting a great length of time. I have, however, been known to embark on longer treks, planned and unconsciously done. The awareness of your pleasure in walking, day or night, is one of many traits I am delighted to discover we have in common.”
Mr. Darcy had not moved during his speech, nor had she. Yet somehow the personal nature of his words, the halcyon atmosphere, and soothing resonance of his voice mingled to create an intimacy as powerful as if they were inches apart. Clearly he felt it as well, although instead of closing the gap and kissing her, as she desperately wanted him to do, he stepped back. Mildly disappointed, Lizzy was relieved to note the expression of peaceful happiness remained upon his face. Then, he perched upon the wall’s narrow ledge, without glancing away from her face to check for breeches-staining debris.
That startled her more than his next question.
“I am curious as to why you have yet to ask me what passed during my hour with your father. I know we have much to learn about each other; however, past experience assures me that I could have wagered a substantial amount that your inquisitiveness would override reticence in this instance. In most instances, for that matter.”
“I am not sure if I am ready to hear the secrets of manly conversation,” she hedged. “Discourse on the best tobacco would merely bore me. Talk of politics or world events might begin an argument if I disagreed with you—”
“As you most likely would, honestly or with designs to test me,” Darcy interrupted with a laugh.
Lizzy laughed with him. “True, I admit. And if the talk digressed to how best to gut a fish or skin a rabbit, I might fulfill your previous prediction and faint at your feet, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy pursed his lips, feigned serious consideration, and then shook his head. “No, that I doubt as well. Delicate and fragile you are, my Elizabeth, in all the feminine ways a man, especially this one, appreciates. Missish and squeamish? While I have no immediate plan to discuss animal gutting or skinning, I am not worried over an adverse reaction if I did.”
He paused, still smiling and wearing the unguarded, playful expression Lizzy was learning to adore, even as it continued to amaze her. The eyes partially hidden in the dim light shone with humor and emotion such as she never imagined from him. The combination overwhelmed her senses.
“For the record, none of those subjects came up tonight. We spoke prim
arily of you, and Miss Bennet, as I am sure you suspect, and that is why I am curious as to your avoidance of the topic. Frankly, I was anticipating an interrogation. Instead, you are uncommonly taciturn.” He cocked his head and playfully furrowed his brows. “I thought that was my failing and looked forward to being inspired by your fluency, not the other way around.”
Lizzy stared at the flower in her hands for a minute before finally inhaling, tossing it over the wall, and then boldly meeting Darcy’s eyes. “Would it surprise you, Mr. Darcy, if I confessed to being besieged by vacillating emotions all evening? Specifically nerves, confusion, and moments of fear?”
His body stiffened and, although still smiling, a sharp glint entered the eyes studying her face. Slowly he nodded. “Yes, I am surprised. Especially under the circumstances. All of us have our moments of lacking confidence or bravery. Nervousness I can readily comprehend, since I was nearly overwhelmed with anxiety several times today. For me this is not unusual, I am ashamed to admit. But you? Odd indeed. And worrisome. Tell me why you would feel any of those emotions, dear Elizabeth.”
“It is your fault, if you must know!” She spoke with more vigor than she intended, the combination of irritation and absurdity in the situation imbuing her tone.
Darcy’s left brow lifted. “It is?”
“Yes! You are a difficult man to read, Mr. Darcy, as I have tragically learned. Then, just as I begin to believe I am deciphering the subtleties of your body language, facial expressions, vocal tones, and the like, you change yet again! How am I to predict your reaction to a situation when you are inconsistent?”
“Perhaps I could aid in solving this serious dilemma if I had examples?”
Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Page 7