by Heather Moll
“You avoid me by refusing to walk out with me, you avoid me by not addressing me by my Christian name, and you avoid me by refusing to speak plainly with me. And I do believe we have some things to speak of.”
Elizabeth hung her head and laid down her pen but did not raise her eyes. I shall not be able to avoid his criticism forever.
He heaved a resigned breath. “Very well—you need not speak now, but I leave for town on Monday, and we must speak before I do.” In a louder and more conversational tone, he asked, “To whom do you write?”
“Mrs. Gardiner. I have been overdue in telling her of our happiness. She was taken with you, and not simply because she cannot think ill of a man from Derbyshire,” she added in an attempt at levity. Not only did he tolerate her playfulness, but he looked charmed. If he had intended on scolding her for what had happened, he did not look ready to do it now. “I should also write to Mrs. Collins, but it would not do for my letter to arrive before yours to Lady Catherine. I fear she will be made angry to learn that you will not marry your cousin. Shall you ever have the courage to tell her what is to befall her?”
“I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. I have been pleasantly engaged as of late. But it ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done directly.”
“And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and admire the evenness of your writing, as Miss Bingley once did.”
Fitzwilliam asked her to send his greetings to Mrs. Gardiner and to tell the lady that he would call while conducting his business in town. He then admired the evenness of her lines; she knew what he was doing and tried not to laugh. He does not appear disapproving, but perhaps that is only because we are not alone. Elizabeth completed her letter and set her writing tools aside.
“Do you need me to mend your pen? I mend pens exceedingly well.”
“Only if you rewrite your letter to Georgiana to include my compliments and questions about how she gets on.”
“I think not.”
Mary grew tired of their banter and gathered her books and papers then left in search of a quieter place in which to complete her studies.
Before Elizabeth could feel nervous about being alone with him to face his reproach of her behavior, he brought up the subject of Mr. Bingley and Jane. “I feel Bingley will soon propose as long as my friend remains confident of her regard.”
“I do not think there is much more Jane can do to encourage Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth colored as she thought what he would say about what she had encouraged last night.
“I told him as we rode here today that I was assured, as were you, that Jane admired him despite his departure last autumn. I told him that everyone expected him to offer to her, and if he stayed, he would soon find himself entangled and must regard himself as bound to her.”
“You sound as if you do not believe he loves her!”
“I do not know the strength of his feelings now, but had Bingley loved Jane enough to marry her last autumn, neither his sisters nor I could have compelled him to leave.”
“He thinks highly of you. He looks to you for guidance, and you, lamentably, caused him to doubt her preference for him.” She spoke without malice.
“Part of me fears he may not love Jane as well as she deserves.”
Elizabeth was shocked, and as she could only doubt and stare, Fitzwilliam continued. “I do not doubt Jane’s worthiness, but I wonder whether Bingley, decent as he is, loves her enough.”
“You do not think he will propose to her after all that has happened?”
“No, he may even be doing so at this moment.” He took her hand, the first time he had touched her since the prior evening. “But if I were him, Elizabeth, there is nothing my friend or sister could say to keep me from you. Neither your impertinent remarks, nor your injudicious opinions on my character, and not even your reluctance to speak openly with me would keep me away.”
Fitzwilliam gave her a look that sent her heart racing. Is it possible he has not lost all respect for me after last night? She squeezed his hand and held his gaze.
“I do have another subject that I would discuss with you,” he said. “I leave for town on Monday to retrieve the marriage articles. I believe Mr. Bennet wishes to amuse himself by ignoring my repeated attempts to move things forward, and so there is something I need to ask you: Would you feel slighted if I did not accept your marriage portion and left it to be divided among your sisters?”
This was not at all what she thought he wished to speak of. He must have thought her upset because he quickly continued. “I do not wish to appear arrogant in that we do not need your portion. I simply thought it would be better suited to improving the eligibility of Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. It would also allow me to present the settlement contract to your father for his signature with the least amount of discussion on his part.”
“He might be determined to be displeased with whatever you settle on me and argue with you for his own entertainment.” Her father still made known his unhappiness at their engagement at every opportunity. Nothing she did or said could end her father’s misguided contempt of them both. She would simply have to endure it as best she could until they were married.
“He has already said that he could not argue with my ability to provide for you. Once he sees the marriage settlement, he will know that as fact.”
This piqued her curiosity. “What will you settle on me?”
“I shall settle twenty thousand pounds on you, and for our daughters, so that you might maintain the manner of living to which you will be accustomed.” Fitzwilliam looked a little embarrassed. “I would like to have settled more on you and our future children.”
Elizabeth understood what he tried not to say. “You were expected to marry a woman with a fortune. By marrying me instead of Miss de Bourgh, you sacrifice thousands of pounds as well as a second son’s inheritance of Rosings.” She thought of them as equals, and although that might strictly be correct, she was suddenly aware of his greater consequence.
“It is no sacrifice, Elizabeth! I choose to spend my life with you because it is entirely in your power—and no one else’s—to make me happy.”
Elizabeth would have thrown herself into his lap and kissed him had she not thought back to last night and the correct behavior an unmarried lady ought to demonstrate. She kept her affection in its proper bounds and said only an earnest, “I love you.”
Fitzwilliam, with a soft smile, reached out and touched her face, his warm fingers tracing the outline of her cheek. Elizabeth wondered how his bare skin would feel sliding against hers.
“Must we wait until September to marry?” Fitzwilliam whispered.
Did he assume that she could not control her desires until then? If he can, then so can I. “I am looking forward to traveling with the Gardiners this summer. I would be disappointed to give it up.”
“I am not asking you to give up the trip. The settlement will be signed when I return next week, and after the following Sunday, the banns will have been read a third time. What say you to marrying when the Gardiners come to collect you in July? Then we might all travel north together, and when the tour is over, we can return to Pemberley.”
“You would not mind touring with the Gardiners for three weeks?”
“Not at all—we four are well suited. Most couples bring company with them should they take a wedding tour.”
“I hope you are not intimidated by the prospect of total seclusion with only me for occupation and conversation, Mr. Darcy.”
“No, Elizabeth,” he said, emphasizing her given name. “I simply want to marry you and bring you home as soon as possible, and this is the simplest way to accomplish that while pleasing everyone concerned.”
“My mother will wish for more time to shop for my wedding clothes, and she has to plan the
wedding breakfast and make the wedding cake.”
“If I imply that this is what I prefer, your mother will move heaven and earth to see that I am satisfied, so long as I marry you.”
Elizabeth agreed, but before she could say more, the door opened, and Jane ran into the room. Despite Fitzwilliam’s presence, Jane instantly embraced her and acknowledged, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world.
“’Tis too much!” she added. “By far too much. I do not deserve it.”
Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a delight that words could but poorly express. Fitzwilliam took Jane’s hand and wished her joy with much affection.
“I must go instantly to my mother! He is gone to my father already. Oh, Lizzy! How shall I bear so much happiness?”
Jane then hastened away, while Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam grinned at one another in enjoyment of Jane’s excitement and with ease in knowing that the affair was now settled. They had experienced much surprise and vexation with regard to Bingley and Jane, and now the matter was met with the happiest and most reasonable end. Bingley now joined them; his conference with Mr. Bennet had apparently been short and to the purpose.
“Where is your sister?”
“With my mother upstairs. She will be down in a moment, I daresay.”
He then shut the door and, coming up to them, claimed the good wishes and affections of a sister and brother. Elizabeth heartily expressed her delight in the prospect of their relationship. Fitzwilliam shook his hand with great cordiality, and then, until Jane returned, they had to listen to all he had to say of his own happiness and of Jane’s perfections.
Mrs. Bennet could not give her consent or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings. Fitzwilliam looked satisfied that she talked at length to Bingley instead of himself. When Mr. Bennet joined them, his voice and manner showed how happy he was with this daughter’s engagement.
“You are a good girl,” said Mr. Bennet to his eldest daughter, “and I have great pleasure in thinking your being so happily settled. I have no doubt of your doing well together. At least your tempers are by no means unlike.” He turned his eyes towards his second daughter, who, for the sake of Jane’s happiness, did not run from the room.
The gentlemen took their leave for the night, and for once, Mr. Bennet did not accompany them for the purpose of annoying Elizabeth’s betrothed. Bingley and Jane loitered in the hall while Elizabeth walked outside with Fitzwilliam. When they were alone, he pulled Elizabeth into his arms and held her fast.
“My love,” he spoke into her hair, “why do you shy away from me? Will you not speak to me about last night?”
It was not regret that made Elizabeth’s heart race and bring color to her cheeks; it was the thought of wanting him before she was supposed to.
“I shall, but Bingley will be here in a moment, Fitzwilliam. It cannot be done now.” Elizabeth leant into him and rested her head against his chest. She wanted to encourage his affections, but fear of losing his respect overcame her desire to further their intimacy.
He seemed pleased at hearing his given name, and his body lost some of its tension. “When can we speak tomorrow?”
“My mother wishes my company in the morning to discuss our wedding, and we have an engagement with my aunt Philips in the evening. You need not attend if you do not wish it.”
“Of course I shall attend. Although Mrs. Philips might often be a tax on my forbearance, I know that you will do all you can to shield me in your own way,” he said with a smile. “I like to think that you do so because you are keen to keep me to yourself.”
That was all too true. “Why do I not walk out early on the morning after so we can speak alone before you leave for London?”
“I can be outside of your father’s property at sunup.”
“That is likely to be five o’clock in the morning!” How much time would he need to tell her he was ashamed of her, as any respectable man would be, and that any other amorous embraces would have to wait until after they were wed?
“I am exceedingly anxious to speak with you alone before I leave for town,” he said as Bingley came outside. “Tell me at once whether you will meet me Saturday morning.”
“Yes, of course!”
They stepped apart when Bingley approached, speaking of his eagerness to see them all at the home of Mrs. Philips the following day. Bingley cheerfully said how much he looked forward to a noisy, comfortable game of lottery tickets and was pleased that, since Mrs. Philips had promised a hot supper afterwards, it would be a late evening. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth’s eyes met, and she laughed when she saw him roll his eyes behind Bingley’s back.
Chapter 14
Darcy did not enjoy cards, and only Elizabeth fathomed his preference for reading or conversation over gambling, but he put forth the effort at Mrs. Philips’s card party so that his manners might recommend him. Whatever he said was said good-naturedly; whatever he did was done graciously. Thankfully, Mrs. Philips and her guests were predominantly interested in Jane and Bingley’s engagement, and Darcy had the pleasure of having his betrothed at his side for most of the evening. They had no opportunity of speaking privately, but he did introduce his future mother-in-law to the idea of his marrying Elizabeth sooner rather than later.
“I quite agree, Mr. Darcy. There is nothing I so abominate for young people as a long engagement!” said Mrs. Bennet. The conversation ended with Elizabeth giving him a smile that told him she would marry him in July instead of September.
He held that memory in his mind as he readied himself in the dark morning hours to go to Longbourn. Darcy knew his valet would be appalled if he left without his coat, but he doubted he could put on the form-fitting garment without help. He donned his great coat to cover his shirtsleeves in case he was seen, and bypassed the stables, intending to walk. He needed time to order his thoughts and to determine what to say since Elizabeth was plainly apprehensive about being alone with him.
Darcy had been irritated at the manner in which Elizabeth left things between them two nights ago, but such feelings did not last long. If Elizabeth’s withdrawal proceeded from her fear of doing wrong, it was a sentiment with which he could readily identify. Darcy had been equally uncertain of their behavior, although incredibly eager, but if she was angry with him for his loss of control, he would have to beg her forgiveness. He could not honestly regret the encounter in the tea room—only their location and timing.
Truth be told, it would take little encouragement on her part to convince me to repeat the experience.
She greeted him with the familiar smile he knew she gave only to him. The sweetness of her address was most welcome after the uncertainty of the past two days. Still unsure of her feelings, instead of kissing her lips, he settled for her hand. “Might we walk again to Oakham Mount?”
“No, I am always walking that way. Let us walk towards the fields.”
Elizabeth mentioned the stream they would pass and a vacant tenant home by fallow fields that might need a new roof. Darcy, who normally attended to her every word, found himself distracted as he looked at her. Something was different about Elizabeth’s clothes.
“I once thought I drew your notice because there was something about me more wrong, according to your ideas of right, than any other person. The way you are staring at me leads me to believe that I may have been correct.”
“You appear different today—that is all. Your clothes do not fit you the same, and I am certain of that since I have seen you in the same gown and yellow spencer on several occasions.”
Elizabeth stopped walking. She did not seem angry, and after his first proposal, he was well aware of what Elizabeth looked like when she was angry. She held his gaze, and Darcy wished he had kept his silence. “Tell me precisely: How do I appear different to you?”
“The skirt of your gown clings to your legs while you walk. And your…the bodice…where your spencer…they are…” he trailed off as he attempted to keep his gaze on Elizabeth’s rapidly pinking face instead of the parts of her body he was struggling to describe. Darcy closed his eyes and wished he was better practiced at being deceitful when the ringing sound of Elizabeth’s laughter filled his ears.
“I am sorry to laugh at you, but you have made me feel better about speaking with you today! I have been so afraid of what you must think of me, of what you must have to say, but your mortification will make mine easier to withstand. Anything I say will be markedly easier after having listened as you tried to explain yourself.”
Darcy set his jaw and resigned himself to being laughed at as he asked her, with some attempt at dignity, why she appeared altered.
“I saw no reason to wake the poor housemaid before dawn to help me dress.”
The last thing he wanted to imply was that her clothes fit her ill because she was unable to dress herself. Elizabeth laughed again.
“To think there was a time when I found your features unreadable! Yes, I can dress myself. What I cannot easily do is tie the stay laces, and that is why—well, that is why I appear altered. And on such a warm morning, I forwent the petticoat as well. There, I have sufficiently shocked your sensibilities. Now despise me if you dare—that is, if you do not already.” The humor had faded from her expression, and she looked contrite.
“Why would I despise you, for that or for anything else?” He was entirely perplexed.
“You might despise me for my shameless behavior the other night. You fell in love with the daughter of a gentleman, and I ought to act like one. I could not bear to lose your good opinion.”
“I found nothing in your behavior to be ashamed of,” he said with more force than he had intended.
“That is simply not possible. Any respectable man would criticize the woman he had not yet married for speaking openly about her own lust, let alone acting on it. You would not be blamed for falling victim to the temptation I gave you, nor would I blame you for censuring me. I am prepared to hear it now.”