The Confession of Fitzwilliam Darcy
Page 20
‘Elizabeth and I have seen more of each other than you might suppose, sir. We met in Kent during the spring and we met again when she was in Derbyshire with Mr and Mrs Gardiner.’
He had nodded when I mentioned Kent, although I knew he had never been informed of what took place there. He was a little taken aback to learn of Derbyshire. I went on, ‘We have come to know each other well enough to be certain of our feelings.’
He blinked rapidly once or twice. He would not say she disliked me but he thought it. He attributed to Elizabeth another motive for accepting my proposals.
I said coolly, ‘Do not imagine, sir, I am ignorant of how much Elizabeth disliked me, at first. She had reason, though perhaps not as much reason as she thought.’
He was surprised but did not deny she had ever thought ill of me. He remained silent, thinking it over. At last, he said, ‘So you believe she now has a better opinion of you?’
‘I do,’ I said firmly. He continued to look unconvinced and unhappy, and I added, ‘I believe you will, if you reflect upon the matter, recall that you have heard nothing from Elizabeth on the subject for some time, now.’
‘Perhaps you are right.’ At this point Mr Bennet seemed to remember I might feel somewhat affronted to have my very flattering proposals treated with so little enthusiasm. In the eyes of the world I was, after all, a most eligible suitor. ‘Now you come to mention it, I believe you are right.’ He strove manfully to account for his initial dismay by saying he had not expected to lose his favourite daughter so soon.
He gave his consent: he had no just reason for refusing it. He tried to look happy about it and I assured him I had a very sincere regard for his daughter. I said I understood his reservations and suggested he should talk to Elizabeth.
He would, I knew, try to talk her out of it. Certain as I was he would not succeed, the next hour was painful to me for I knew those two were making each other unhappy. It was a relief to see her looking tolerably composed when she returned to the drawing-room. Her smile convinced me she had gone some way towards reconciling her father to the match.
The next day, Mr Bennet sought me out, embarrassed now, because Elizabeth had told him I made up the match between Lydia and Wickham. It took some time to convince him neither his thanks nor his offer of repayment was necessary, but he gave way in the end, knowing my actions had been governed by a desire to spare Elizabeth’s distress.
‘I confess I am relieved to discover I am not indebted to my brother Gardiner,’ he said. ‘My greatest fear was that he had distressed himself to bring it about.’
I had a minor triumph later that day, and I confess I was mean enough to enjoy it. For Elizabeth told me, that upon informing her mother of our engagement, Mrs Bennet had been wholly still and wholly silent for a full fifteen minutes.
All Mrs Bennet’s dislike of me was done away with at a stroke. There are cynics who will say my wealth and consequence must account for this, and I have no doubt it played a part, as did the fact of her social triumph in wedding one of her daughters to such an illustrious personage as myself. But I understood that lady a little better, now. Her understanding was weak; she was always foolish, always imprudent, and very often an embarrassment. She was also fiercely partial towards her own daughters. It was my displaying such excellent taste and good sense as to wish to marry one of them which really secured her favour.
It was Mrs Bennet who proposed the scheme which brought me to matrimony sooner than I expected, for, having become engaged whilst the arrangements for Bingley’s wedding to Jane were underway, I had been resigned to the idea of waiting for some time before our own wedding could be arranged.
‘No, no, my dears,’ said Mrs Bennet. ‘You must have a double wedding. Between such close sisters and such close friends, there can be no possible objection. Yes, yes! You must apply straight away for a special licence. A double wedding! It will be of all things most charming.’
I wish I could say that my aunt, Lady Catherine, was reconciled to our engagement. She was not, however, and I will not repeat what she said in her letter to me. It is enough to say I was resolved to have nothing more to do with her.
The first letter from my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, consisted of only two words: it said simply: ‘At last!’ Asecond letter, arriving the next day, expressed his congratulations in a more seemly way.
The other Fitzwilliams, contrary to the expectations of my aunt, wrote to say they were happy for me; they had heard much of Elizabeth and were most eager to make her acquaintance.
Georgiana was delighted. She had been shy when talking to Elizabeth, but she had no reserve when expressing herself in writing and her letter to Elizabeth ran to four pages, leaving no one in doubt of her sentiments.
I received an equally warm letter of congratulations from Mr and Mrs Gardiner.
As our engagement became generally known, Elizabeth and I found ourselves constantly separated by the attentions of other people.
Mr Bennet invited me to go shooting with him, a clear indication he was exerting himself to get to know me better. It was a day well spent, for we found we had much in common in our knowledge of the countryside and in our interest in books, and when I invited him to visit Pemberley and inspect the library there, he looked much happier about losing his favourite daughter. What he said to Elizabeth later, I know not, but I could see by the warmth of her smile that it pleased her.
Mr and Mrs Collins appeared in the neighbourhood. Anxious to escape the wrath of my aunt, they had come to stay at Lucas Lodge until it subsided. For Elizabeth there was pleasure in having her friend with her, and I, mindful that Mr Collins had played his part in securing my present happiness, found within myself more patience with the gentleman than I had expected.
Mr Bennet, observing this, told me I was in serious danger of getting a good name for myself.
Sir William Lucas complimented me, more than once, on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country, and spoke of a future in which he hoped we would all meet frequently at St James’s Court. I knew he had said exactly the same to Bingley.
Mrs Bennet and her sister Mrs Philips were deep in all those mysterious details so necessary to the proper arrangement of elegant nuptials. Elizabeth and Jane were frequently called into conference with them to discuss all the particulars of silk and satin and lace. Jane bore it all with unfailing patience: Elizabeth was heard to mutter that perhaps an elopement was not such a dreadful idea, after all.
For myself I was contented enough, knowing there were but a few days now before we took our vows and we would be left alone afterwards. It did not escape my notice, however, that Elizabeth was growing fretful and every time I tried to discover the reason, someone came along to consult with one or the other of us on some matter needing immediate attention.
Mr Collins was the worst offender, for his discourse upon even the most trivial matter seemed to take a most complicated route before reaching its conclusion. Mrs Collins eventually rescued me, finding some matter requiring her husband’s attention. Then, without ceremony, she pushed me into the deserted dining-room and told me to stay there.
‘I have sent Lizzy upstairs to change,’ she said. ‘It is a fine day and I advise you, sir, to take her out for a nice long walk. And do not go in the direction of Meryton, for there you are bound to meet someone you know. All this fuss is really too much for Lizzy: she needs a little respite. And so do you, unless I am very much mistaken. So go, and do not return until dinner-time. The rest of us can spare you for a few hours, I am sure.’
Elizabeth and I sidled away from Longbourn like two children playing truant. She walked a little ahead of me, her face flushed, her mouth set in a straight line of temper.
I said nothing. If, as Mrs Collins had indicated, it was only the press of people troubling her, she would laugh herself out of her ill-humour sooner for being left alone.
As indeed, she did. She then had a little to say about the absurdities we had both endured and unwittingly relieved my own
fears when she said, ‘I confess, they have greatly taxed my forbearance. How I look forward to the time when we can be removed from company, and be quiet and comfortable together.’
The lightening of my heart must have shown in my expression for she looked enquiry at me. ‘I have been troubled, I own, in case you were regretting your decision to marry me.’
‘No, indeed, nothing like that,’ she said simply.
There it was, that look for which I had once said I would sacrifice my right arm. It would have been a small price to pay, too. But no such sacrifice was required, and I was glad, for I had found a good use for my right arm. I slipped it round her shoulders, drew her towards me, and bent my head to claim her mouth with my own.
I bungled it.
Somehow, our noses bumped, my mouth touched her chin and slid away to nothing. Embarrassed, furious with myself, I turned away from her, hunching my shoulders moodily, unable to bear myself for being so clumsy.
There was a silence. Then I heard a faint gurgle of laughter and her voice, when it came, spoke with strong, authoritative tones in a fair imitation of my aunt, Lady Catherine.
‘You will never kiss really well, Mr Darcy,’ she said, ‘unless you practise more. You cannot expect to excel if you do not practise a great deal.’
Advice which, I felt, contained some good solid reasoning and sound common sense. I turned back to her with a rather sheepish smile. ‘I assure you, madam,’ I said, ‘that from now on, I intend to practise very constantly.’
I suited my action to my words. And if the first kiss had gone something awry, the second was most satisfactory in every particular.
By the Same Author
Diamond Cuts Diamond
The Gemini Girl
Better to Forget
A Relative Stranger
A Friendly Star
Copyright
© Mary Street 1999
First published in Great Britain 1999
This ebook edition 2011
ISBN 978 0 7090 9361 9
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Mary Street to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988