Mr. Darcy's Promise

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  Darcy steeled himself. He felt better with a plan; much less helpless. He handed Mr. Denny the bank note, tipped his hat in the barest attempt at civility, and left in a hurry. He had only the next few hours to complete the tasks he would normally allot to a day.

  Mr. Darcy stopped by Netherfield and informed the staff to ready their trunks for immediate departure. He then borrowed Bingley’s study to write his express. He sealed it with his crest, silently praying that it would reach Richard in time. He made certain to specifically inform him that Wickham was armed, and that Richard was free to use any of the pistols in the cabinet in his study, should they be needed. He was relieved that Richard would know how to use it if necessary. Once the trunks were ready, he climbed aboard the carriage, and had the driver stop by the jeweler’s before heading to Longbourn.

  *****

  Elizabeth tried to read Mr. Darcy’s eyes, but her mother’s shrill voice was louder than her own thoughts. Had he found Wickham? Did it go as it was intended to? All she could see was worry and fear. Something was not right.

  “Oh, my dear Mr. Darcy! You look so very handsome today! Come in and have some raspberry tarts; they are the last raspberries of the season. You cannot get finer raspberries at Pemberley, and I do not care what how much you refute it!”

  Elizabeth continued to watch Mr. Darcy. He wore his old “Master of Pemberley” expression, and, rather than answer, he took out his silver pocketwatch and looked at the time. He wasn’t making eye contact either. Something was definitely not right. “Mother, can you give me a moment alone with my husband? I need to discuss something with him.”

  “Oh yes! Discuss away!” Just when Elizabeth thought they would be free of her, her mother returned for one last blow. “Do you know, Lizzy, I cannot wait for little grandchildren to start coming. I should have known you wanted to welcome him properly. What a good wife you are. I knew this was a good match.” Mrs. Bennet then departed without seeing— or choosing not to see— the shocked look on Elizabeth’s face.

  “I am sorry for my mother. I thought she would let up once I was married but apparently now she has her heart set on grandchildren.” Even saying it out loud made her blush. Her mother clearly did not know they had not even consummated the marriage yet. Mr. Darcy reached his hand up to her blushing cheek and finally met her eyes with his.

  Mr. Darcy wanted to say something like “I would like to spend many a nights trying to accommodate my mother-in-law’s desires.” But he stayed focused. Instead he said, “We have to go. And right away, Elizabeth.”

  “Is everything well?” He shook his head. “Tell me, William.” He was not obviously physically hurt, that she could tell, and she realized with a sinking heart that he had not been gone all that long. Which only meant that he did not find Wickham.

  “I can tell you on the way to our second country estate. It is located four hours north of here. If we get on the road early enough we can make it before dark. Say your farewells quickly, I do not want to be traveling in the dark and it is nearly two o’clock now.” Darcy squeezed her hand and kissed it. “Quickly, please. You know I would not ask if the situation were not so dire.”

  Elizabeth took a moment to collect her thoughts. “You have another country estate besides Pemberley?”

  “Yes. I rarely stay there, as I prefer to make the trip from Pemberley to London in two long tiring days as we did on the way out rather than break it up into three, but my father thought it would be a useful asset since it is conveniently located on the road to London. It will be perfect for tonight. Tomorrow we can make most of the journey to Pemberley but there will still be fifty miles we will have to make the day after tomorrow, on Monday.” He shook his head. “I am sorry, but we must make progress in our travels. Please, Elizabeth, make haste.”

  Elizabeth nodded, and quickly left to make her excuses and promises to return for Jane’s wedding. She took Jane aside and embraced her. She had missed her more than anyone. She picked up her reticule, and when it was heavier than usual, she realized that she never gave her father the book.

  “One more minute, I need to give my father his book.” She hurried to give it to him. She was back in no time and took her husband’s offered arm and he handed her into the carriage. Their urgency of their departure was obvious to any who might look: their trunks were already loaded.

  Mr. Darcy did not know how much he should tell Elizabeth, but after some consideration, he decided that telling all of it was appropriate. The more people keeping an eye out for Wickham, the better. He proceeded to tell her what he knew and all he had done so far about it.

  “I do not mean to worry you in telling you this news, but I do not feel I should keep that kind of thing secret. I trust you and I have always believed that knowledge always provides power. Ignorance is harmful; secrets worse yet.”

  “Not to mention that I would simply nag you until you told me.” She smiled at him, but his answering smile was vague and distant. She had been hoping to lighten his mood a little, but could see that their three day journey would be a solemn one.

  *****

  Last night they arrived at the country estate before dark, the sun had set but there was still lingering light enough to make their way through the streets to the estate. The house was smaller than Longbourn, but still beautiful. It had been a quiet ride. Neither one wanted to talk about what they didn’t know could be happening at Pemberley. Would the express arrive in time? Would Wickham become violent once he realized Darcy was not there to give him his money? Would Colonel Fitzwilliam be able to keep Georgiana safe?

  On the day after their brief stay at the country estate, both fell asleep with worry and lack of sleep from the night before. Elizabeth had fallen asleep first with Darcy’s arm around her and he lowered her shoulders and head to his lap, but it wasn’t long before Darcy was deeply asleep as well.

  He was having dreams again of the chickens, but this time Elizabeth wasn’t there. He kept calling out to her, “Elizabeth! Dearest Elizabeth!” But she wouldn’t come. He looked for her around the pen and he looked for her in the barn. He looked for her in the hay loft and he looked for her around the back of the barn. She wasn’t anywhere. He sat down on the hay bale and felt frustrated. He had looked for her everywhere, had called out “Elizabeth” over and over again but she was nowhere to be found. However, he knew she was here. He could feel her closeness in his body. He went back out to the pen and tried calling her once again. This time he used the nickname she grew up with, “Lizzy! Where are you?” Suddenly the fat yellow mother hen who had sat on the eggs all that time came waddling over to him, its familiar deep brown eyes looking up at him expectantly. Following her were the seven baby chicks who all had their feathers now. The yellow one, the one he named Lizzy, looked exactly like the mother. He just stared at the mother hen. He had called “Lizzy” and the hen came, not the chick he named Lizzy, but the hen. The hen whose eyes were familiar. It dawned on him why they were familiar; its eyes were those of Elizabeth’s. He felt like he was beginning to understand something important. Just then Sparks came around with his pitchfork.

  “It’s about time you see her for what she is. She was very devoted to you and now look what you have to show for it . . . seven little babies, all strong and healthy. That is a lot of love to handle. Are you sure you and the missus can raise them?” Sparks motioned with his hands for Darcy to look at the chicks.

  He examined them closely. Babies? They were chicks, just big enough to get through the winter storms, not babies. “You meant chicks, did you not, Sparks?” But Sparks had left him already. He was alone with the chicken that had Elizabeth’s eyes. The devoted chicken who had been forced into sitting on eggs at a time of year that wasn’t ideal. He knew he was onto something. Elizabeth had once expressed how she felt forced into the marriage. His eyes popped open. The rocking of the carriage reminded him of where he was.

  He had to tell her what he just dreamed about! He shook her shoulders gently. “Elizabeth! I figured it o
ut! You are a chicken!” She had her head on his lap and she sat up with the strangest look on her face.

  “Are you calling me a coward?” She smirked.

  He shook his head violently, “No, no, not a chicken, the chicken.” His mind felt refreshed and lively. He understood now and he wanted to share it with her. He wanted to show her he loved that part of her that she had kept close to her all these weeks. He wanted to kiss her! He took her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the lips. “You are the hen!”

  Elizabeth wasn’t quite sure if her husband was awake or talking in his sleep. She pinched his arm. “There, are you awake now? Because I am beginning to wonder what in the world you were talking about.”

  He rubbed his arm, but even her teasing wouldn’t let him lose the enlightenment he felt. “You love the chickens!”

  “William, are you well? Just because I like the chickens does not mean I have grown wings and become one of them . . .” What kind of stress was her husband under to be talking such gibberish? She watched him retrieve a piece of paper from his vest pocket.

  Mr. Darcy showed her the list of facts that he had been carrying around with him since the morning he had discovered it was in fact Georgiana’s letter from Wickham, not Elizabeth’s. He hadn’t meant to bring the list along, but when he found it that night he studied it as often as privacy would allow. “I have been trying to figure out why the chickens, the eggs, and the chicks getting their feathers all were so important to you. They are more than some farm animal to you. But I think I know now. You feel like the hen! Or maybe it was felt like the hen, I do not know.”

  The laughing expression in her eyes slowly faded. He knew he was right. “You felt like you had no choice to get married, just as the hen had no choice but to sit on the eggs. Nature decided it for the hen, and your father decided it for you. Have I hit upon the truth?” She nodded slowly. Yes! He had finally unraveled this mystery!

  “So something besides your free will put you in a situation that you had not wanted . . . Oh! Not simply that, but at a time that you did not want. For the chicken the right time would have been spring, the natural way to raise chicks . . . but for you . . . oh, I do not know . . . for you . . . the right time would have been getting married when you were in love? Am I right?” She nodded. He was thrilled, but continued.

  “So you got married before you loved me; no, were forced to marry me before you loved me, but you found a way through it anyway. The hen could not leave or abandon the eggs, it was not in her nature; she was driven to make the best of her situation. That is just like you. You cried so hard on our way to London on our wedding day but then things changed. I saw it in you. It was not right away but you grew to . . . to accept it.” He wanted to say she grew to love him but caught himself. She hadn’t spoken those words yet. “You found a way to accept your situation and in fact learned to maybe even appreciate the time you had been forced to spend with me?” She nodded. Tears were forming in her eyes. He reached for them and wiped them with his thumbs. He got braver. He dared presume even further in his enlightened state. He lowered his voice and said, “But things changed for you, did they not? You learned to want to be married to me?”

  His heart fluttered and it felt like forever before she nodded. He smiled. Her simple nod of the head was more powerful to his body than any kiss or embrace they had shared so far. She wants to be married to me! He tried to focus; there was still so much on the paper that he hadn’t clarified, like the hatching of the eggs. “And when you said that I could not help the eggs or force them to hatch . . . you were talking about me forcing you to love me.” She nodded, and he continued.

  “Yes! And the struggle to get out, to hatch, was part of the process! I needed to give you the time and space to fall in love with me on your own time. You said it takes a while to hatch; you said it just takes time. But letting you come to it on your own only makes you stronger. So your love for me was the eggs hatching?” She nodded and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. He leaned in and kissed the tears away, tasting of the salt on his lips. He then felt like he had figured it all out but one thing. If Elizabeth was the hen, forced to sit on the eggs–– or get married–– and because she endured, her love for him developed, or in other words the chicks hatched . . . but what in the world did getting their feathers mean? If the chicks hatching was a representation of her love then of course she would want them to survive! He let out a big breath. “And getting their feathers before the winter storms? The storms . . . those refer to trials, correct? You want our young love to endure the trials we face?”

  Elizabeth had been silent long enough. “You said ‘our’ love, but you were talking about my love for you. I must stop you before my heart jumps out of my chest.”

  “I did mean our love. I have loved you for so long, Elizabeth. There was no time I have not. Not since I saw your fine eyes and heard your heart-piercing laughter, or memorized your impertinently raised eyebrow, or saw your kind heart, or tasted of your sweet lips, for there was not a time that I could not admit that I love you. Everything I learn about you only makes me love you more. You are my world now. I cannot think of a time I have been more happy than when I rolled in chicken muck with you! Every moment I have had I simply want to engrave in my mind and remember it always. You may not believe me but it is true . . . and I have been a fool for not telling you the real reason I married you.” He drew in a deep breath.

  “I see it now in your eyes what has been in my heart since the Meryton Assembly when I first felt my heart strings pull in your direction. I fought it; oh I did, I even said that awful thing about you not being tempting, just so that I would not have to endure the foreign feelings I was having. My heart was gone from the moment I heard you laugh with Miss Lucas at the refreshment table. There is nothing I want to do more than spend my life hearing that laughter. I want only to make you happy and I vow with every fiber of my being that I will! I never want to see that forlorn and hopeless face that I saw on our wedding day. Forgive me for being too careful; no, even cowardly. I should have expressed my love long ago but somehow I knew deep down that you needed time to learn of it yourself.”

  “I wanted to tell you I loved you when I botched that awful proposal. I wanted to tell you I loved you when you came down to breakfast that morning after our wedding. I wanted to tell you I loved you when I went shopping with you and they measured you for your theatre gown. I wanted to tell you the night of the theatre how much I needed you and could not live without you. I wanted to tell you how you are more valuable to me then all of Pemberley when we got out of the carriage and saw it for the first time together. I wanted to show you I could be everything you needed and wanted. I wanted to tell you I loved you when you called me a beast and then rubbed mud in my hair! I wanted to tell you how I admire your fighting spirit the day you hit your head and still walked three hours to get home. And oh! God knows I wanted to tell you in the library after our first kiss. I wanted to tell you I will always love you no matter what, even when I thought your heart was not mine but rather Wickham’s to claim. I wanted to tell you I love you when I woke up and saw your sleeping face on my chest. I wanted to take you in my arms and show you how grateful and lucky I am to have you in my life after you so generously massaged my head when you could have been angry with me instead! I wanted to tell you so many times. But I am telling you now. I love you dearest Elizabeth, I cannot spend another moment without telling you, showing you, and proving to you that I love you.”

  He then kissed her fervently, finally expressing all the passion he felt inside. He explored her lips like never before, his fingers finding their way into her hair. He could feel her response to the kiss then but she pulled away. He didn’t want to stop so early, the other kisses they shared lasted much longer.

  Elizabeth put her finger to his lips and said, “Shhh, I would love to continue in such a way but there is a promise you still have not clarified for me. You say you loved me before we were married. Is that the reason you never to
ld my father that it was Wickham who compromised me? Is that why you married me?”

  Darcy looked sheepish. “I would have to say I saw the moment as a road of opportunity.”

  “A road of opportunity? What exactly is that?”

  “I have to give the credit to Martin. I was very distressed the morning after the ball and he was trying to help me make my heart and mind cooperate. He said that I should listen to my heart and let my mind find roads of opportunity. I pondered that on my horse ride and realized that being forced to marry you was the best opportunity that was ever placed before me and I was not about to let it slip by. One thing I learned from my father was not to let an opportunity go by that would make me a better man. I am a better man because I married you, Elizabeth. I am not the prideful man I know you once thought I was. I have tried to show you that.”

  “I have not thought you were prideful since the ball when you comforted me instead of judged me for Wickham’s kisses. That opinion started changing even before that when Georgiana showed up unannounced. I saw how kind and loving you were with her and I realized I had judged you prematurely. I still struggled at times but mostly because I too had foreign feelings budding that I did not know what to do with since I could not imagine you loving me like you do now.” She leaned in and kissed him, letting her body take over. They kissed on the lips for a moment and then he explored her cheeks and then made his way back up to her eyes and he kissed them as well. Then he pulled away.

  “I am truly sorry I did not have the courage to ask Bingley for two rooms. You did not even seem angry at me the next morning. How exactly did we end up in the same bed?”