by Heather Moll
Darcy did not know how much time had passed—minutes, hours, days—he could not be sure. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes and willed her to know how much he loved her. He felt a small stab of guilt as he looked down on her swollen lips and remembered he had yet to obtain her parents’ consent to marry. After he had finally earned Elizabeth’s respect and affection, he could not allow his desire for her to frighten her away, and he apologized immediately.
She refused to move from his lap. “A woman’s reputation of virtue is one of her most precious possessions. I hope that I have not lost your good opinion because I wish to kiss you as much as you wish to do the same to me.”
Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth, you must have prayed for me to be punished for my thoughtlessness after that assembly,” he said. “You have been duly avenged. I am certain that I shall always find you to be handsome enough to tempt me.”
“But will you think me handsome even when I am old and nearly past everything but tea and quadrille and cannot see without spectacles?”
“Always, dearest Elizabeth.” His voice was ragged, and she caressed his cheek. “As tempting as you are, I am surprised at being left alone for so long.”
“I am certain my mother wants to give you ample time to petition for my hand, Mr. Darcy.” She caressed his cheek.
“You have always called me Mr. Darcy. It is so formal.”
“What do those closest to you call you?”
“Darcy.”
“That is hardly a relaxed form of address for your wife to use.” They both grinned at the word “wife.” “How does Georgiana address you?”
“She stands so much in awe of me that at times I wonder whether she would not prefer to call me Mr. Darcy.”
“I would like to call you Fitzwilliam when we are alone.”
“I have no objection. My father was the last person to call me that. I have not been addressed that way in years.”
“Well then, Fitzwilliam, will you kiss me again or go to my father to obtain his consent?”
“The former is more to my liking, but I should like to be able to kiss you anytime I wish.” Darcy shifted her off his lap and rose. “I must go instantly to your father. You might speak to your mother. She has been gracious to give us ample time.” He parted from Elizabeth with a kiss to her hand and purposefully strode towards the door. Upon opening it, he stopped abruptly, for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, was directly in front of the door.
“Will Mr. Bennet see me, madam?”
Mrs. Bennet rang for Mrs. Hill to enquire where Mr. Bennet was and was told that he had retired above stairs with specific instructions that he was not available to see Mr. Darcy.
“What do you mean? Mr. Bennet has no compassion for my poor nerves!”
“Mr. Bennet said he would not see any gentleman callers, and neither was there any reason for any ladies of the house to bother him.” The housekeeper then gently suggested that, if Mrs. Bennet wished the master to be available, she might ask him herself. Darcy stood in silence as the bizarre scene unfolded.
“People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking! Mr. Bennet cannot wonder at Mr. Darcy’s desire to see him. Why must I make Mr. Bennet speak to him?”
At the sound of her mother’s shrill voice, Elizabeth came into the hall, and no sooner had she seen her daughter than Mrs. Bennet congratulated Elizabeth on her good fortune. Elizabeth attempted to silence her mother as she prattled away about pin money and carriages in front of him. Mrs. Bennet then left with Hill, complaining all the while.
“What has happened?”
“Your father will not see me.”
“What!” she cried in a voice startlingly similar to her mother’s. “Why ever not?”
“I do not know, but your housekeeper says he will not speak to me or anyone.” Darcy paced in the vestibule. Mr. Bennet could not have mistaken Darcy’s expressed interest in Elizabeth during dinner. Could the man be so uninterested in the dealings of his family that he had failed to notice that a gentleman had ridden from London twice in two weeks to spend time in conversation with his second daughter?
“Mr. Darcy?”
Was Mr. Bennet so decided against him as a suitor for Elizabeth that he would not give him the opportunity to petition for her hand? As if anything in this world could prevent me from bringing Elizabeth home to Pemberley as my wife, now that I am assured of her love.
“Fitzwilliam?”
Was refusing to grant him an interview a source of amusement for Elizabeth’s father? Must they wait until Elizabeth turned one-and-twenty so her father’s refusal would no longer be a hindrance?
“Dearest! Stop pacing!”
Darcy was surprised when Elizabeth grabbed his arm. He had entirely forgotten she was with him in the hall. She let go of him but then wrapped her arms around his waist and stared at him with expressive eyes that, at this moment, communicated her alarm.
“You must suppress that desire, Fitzwilliam.”
“I do not understand you.”
“You are attempting to solve our problems yourself. I admire your decisiveness, and I am sure it has served you well, but I insist we address the issue of my father together.”
Darcy could not conceal his astonishment. Not since he was a child had anyone insisted he do anything. “I am not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way.”
“You admired me for my compliant nature? No, I did not think so. I cannot watch you attempt to resolve a problem that is connected to me without my being involved in its solution.”
“Elizabeth, I have been sole master and landlord for years with hundreds of tenants and servants under my protection. Do you know the number of people’s happiness in my guardianship—the number of decisions I make in the course of the year that I must make authoritatively and unaided?”
“I do not doubt your ability to make those decisions, nor do I wish to intrude upon them. But this matter with my father concerns me, and I do insist on our addressing matters that concern me together.”
“You are a singular woman, Miss Bennet. Does a husband not have the right to expect obedience from his wife?” He allowed the smile he had been attempting to suppress to grace his features. Elizabeth’s countenance relaxed as he returned her embrace. If he wanted a submissive wife, he would be disappointed. No, there is nothing disappointing in choosing Elizabeth Bennet to be my wife.
“Husbands may have the right to expect obedience from their wives, but they should in turn treat wives as their best earthly companions. Can you agree to that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You would not prefer to be unbothered by my masculine concerns and left to netting purses and spending your pin money?”
“I am not so accomplished that I shall be entirely dependent on my husband’s power and judgment. I am a rational creature, and before you are resolved to carry me off to Gretna Green, I suggest you allow me to speak to my father.”
“The hour grows late, and Georgiana and I must leave. Do you not wish for me to secure your father’s consent today? I shall not be able to return until Bingley opens Netherfield in a fortnight.”
“Perhaps my father thinks you are partial to me while I still dislike you. I suspect he finds this entertaining. I had been pointed in my abhorrence of you for so long that he may think I would marry you without affection. He does not know me at all.” Tears had begun to well up in her eyes, but Darcy could see she had no intention of allowing them to fall.
“You need not keep up appearances with me, Elizabeth. I may require obedience, but I do not require you to appear perpetually cheerful,” he teased. She gave an empty laugh, placed her head against his chest, and held him tighter. Darcy’s heart swelled at the thought of her taking comfort in
his presence. The exciting novelty of being able to touch and hold Elizabeth had not yet diminished.
“You may convince your father of our attachment, and I shall ask for his consent when Bingley and I return. Should he again refuse to meet me, I shall simply have to marry you from my parish at Pemberley when you travel north this summer with the Gardiners.”
Elizabeth smiled and said she would persuade her father, but Darcy silently thought his plan had more merit.
Chapter 9
Mrs. Bennet came to see off their visitors and, surprisingly, so did Kitty. Elizabeth could tell Fitzwilliam would have preferred to say good-bye to her privately, as would she. But to her, his hand at the small of her back as they entered a room, or the way his eyes followed her wherever she moved, had all the distinguishing tenderness a lover’s heart could give.
It was not until two days later that Elizabeth found the opportunity to speak with her father. He had retired to his library after every dinner with instructions not to be disturbed and had not taken breakfast with his family. Mrs. Bennet attempted to speak to her husband about Mr. Darcy every moment she encountered him, but he always refused to heed her. Elizabeth heard her mother shrieking at the closed library door when she returned from her solitary morning walk.
“You tear my nerves to pieces! Mr. Bennet? Mr. Bennet!”
“I have no desire to listen to your effusions on this subject,” was the reply from behind the door. Mrs. Bennet, seeing Hill bearing the tea things on a tray for the master, begged her for the smelling salts. Elizabeth offered to take in the tray and left her mother to the tolerable care of Hill. Her father’s eyes narrowed when he saw his daughter, and not the servant, bring his tea, but he said nothing. She laid the tray on a side table and sat uninvited.
“I am anxious to have my library to myself. It is the one place in this house I may be sure to have leisure and tranquility.”
“Papa, I would speak to you on a matter of great importance.”
He did not raise his eyes from his book.
Elizabeth was resolved to speak her mind. She did not wish to cause pain to anyone, but her father must be brought to reason. “Papa, I must speak to you in regard to Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet tossed his book to the table, removed his spectacles, and rose. His scarcely opened his lips when he spoke. “What would you tell me about the proud and disagreeable Mr. Darcy?”
“You have mistaken his character! Do not upset me by speaking of him so. You do not know him.”
“I thought you knew better than to fall for a handsome face. Of all the foolish reasons for a daughter to leave her father and her home, that is by far the most reprehensible. You could have fallen for one of those officers if all you wanted was some attention. One of them would have shown you the interest of a man to distinguish you from your sisters and friends, and that ought to have been enough to satisfy you.”
She looked at her father in dismay. “When have you known me to flirt with men to trifle with their affections? Do you believe me to require a gentleman only to be handsome in order to accept him?”
“Other than being taken in by pleasant features and a full purse, I can see no other reason for you to encourage Mr. Darcy. From the first moment of your meeting him, you and your mother told me, with much bitterness of spirit, I might add, how shockingly rude you found him. You only pretend to admire him now, but he is a proud man who does not love you.”
“He does love me. He asked me to marry him, and I accepted! He attempted to ask for your consent when he was last here, and I beg you to grant it when he returns.”
“You are but a temporary amusement to this man. Mr. Darcy might be like other rich men. He visits the country to partake in the company of a country miss and has no scruples in returning to town and leaving the lady with disappointed hopes. Consider Mr. Bingley from last autumn and tell me you mean more to Mr. Darcy than Jane did to Mr. Bingley.” He crossed his arms and smirked.
“He courted my attentions in Kent and in London, and he is returning to Netherfield to be near me. How do you explain his calling on me and making his sister known to us if not because he loves me?” She carefully avoided an explanation of Fitzwilliam’s first proposal and her vehement refusal as she could not bear to open herself up to further sport for her father’s entertainment.
“His own enjoyment or his own ease must be his ruling principle, just as any other wealthy man. None of your sisters have much to recommend them. They are all silly and ignorant, but I thought you had something more of quickness than them. Clearly, I was in the wrong.”
Elizabeth’s misery increased at her father’s cruelty. His odd mixture of sarcastic humor and caprice had never troubled her as it now did. “Pray tell, what have I done to deserve such a description?”
“Have you not always hated this man? You would marry and leave your home only for riches and pin money?”
“I disliked him before I knew him better! And if all I cared about was wealth, I might have married Mr. Collins for the security of my family.”
“Instead, you would marry a man who, although not foolish like Mr. Collins, is proud and unpleasant. You have been lured by his ten thousand a year. Why else would you wish to leave Longbourn?”
“Because I love him. He has no improper pride, and he is a perfectly amiable man. I was mistaken by my first impressions of him. In Kent, we—we had the opportunity to know one another better. He has admired me for a long time. You might see that I care for him and you might find him likable if you ever left your library. I respect him just as he respects me, and there is no doubt in my heart or my mind that he loves me.”
Mr. Bennet sighed and returned to his chair. Elizabeth had hoped that, once her father knew of her affection for her betrothed, he would have no reservations. She could no longer blame her father’s misinformation; she was in every way reasonable in explaining her feelings.
After several moments of silence, while her father gazed out the window, he asked, “You are determined to have that man?”
“I am.”
“How fortunate for you that Mr. Darcy is the kind of man to whom I could never refuse anything that he condescended to ask. In the unlikely event this man returns for you, I shall grant my consent.”
Elizabeth felt no joy upon hearing these words but thanked her father all the same. He still would not look at her. She willed her tears not to fall and walked to the door when the sound of her father’s voice made her turn back.
“Lizzy, I congratulate you. You will be a happy woman with your fine carriages and expensive clothes.”
She loved and esteemed her father, but this unjust accusation hurt. After a lifetime of praising her intellect, soliciting her opinion, and appreciating her humor, he thought her mercenary and superficial. “I am not marrying Mr. Darcy for his fortune or for his consequence, and I had hoped that you knew me better than that.” With her eyes cast down and her color rising, she left him.
Elizabeth tried to take pleasure in her mother’s positive response, but to have her mother extol Fitzwilliam’s affluence reminded her that her father thought her to be a fortune hunter.
Her life at Longbourn now involved avoiding her father’s critical eye and limiting her mother’s effusions. One parent was resolved to believe her to be a heartless fortune hunter while the other could not wait to announce to her neighbors that her daughter would marry a man worth ten thousand a year.
By the middle of June, Fitzwilliam’s return was the only object of Elizabeth’s happiest thoughts. It was her best consolation for the uncomfortable hours that the discontentedness of her father and the ignorance of her mother made inevitable. Summer activities arose, and the gossip of the neighborhood predominantly focused on Jane and the return of the amiable Mr. Bingley.
***
For a man normally lively and unreserved, Bingley had grown dis
concertedly quiet, and Darcy felt all the awkwardness of their situation. There remained an hour left in their journey, and Bingley’s angry silence in the carriage was alarming.
One quarter of an hour had passed since Darcy made his confession, one that he believed he ought to have made long ago. He could no longer allow his friend to proceed in ignorance. Bingley deserved to know the truth of Darcy’s interference. That Darcy had concealed Miss Bennet’s presence from him for three months, well before Darcy delivered Elizabeth’s letters and brought Bingley to Gracechurch Street, was too deceitful for Bingley to easily overcome.
“Why did you call on the Gardiners and Miss Bennet?” Bingley’s tone was accusatory.
“You asked me to join you so I could judge whether she held you in any special regard.”
“No—before that. Why did you take Miss Elizabeth’s letters to Miss Bennet in the first place? You were aware of her being in town. If you only wished to apologize for your interference, you did not need to call in Cheapside beforehand. You might have told me you learnt from Miss Elizabeth that Miss Bennet was there or that my sisters called on her over the winter.”
Darcy sighed. He had acted despicably. It would be excruciating to lay bare his personal dealings to anyone, even Bingley, and he was aware in how poor a light he would appear.
“My pride was the cause of all that you and Miss Bennet have suffered,” Darcy began haltingly. “I did have strong objections to the Bennet family, and I then believed that Miss Bennet did not return your affection. I had my own motivations for wishing her to be indifferent to you, but my conviction was based on reason and not hope.”