Looking across the room to that gentleman, she gave him a smile that made him blink and sit up a little straighter in his chair. The rest of the call passed agreeably and in fact lasted rather longer than normal.
“Do you receive calls yourself, Miss Darcy?” asked Mrs. Gardiner when she rose at last to go.
“Yes. That is—” She glanced at Darcy. “My brother thinks it is not improper for me to receive calls from particular acquaintances.”
“Will you be at home tomorrow?”
“Yes, we will.” Darcy spoke for her.
“Then we will do ourselves the honor of calling on you then.” She smiled warmly at the child, who responded tremulously.
“Mrs. Gardiner,” said Darcy, “if you have no objection, I would like to stay and have some conversation with Elizabeth. She and I have some matters still to discuss, I believe.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy. There can be no difficulty with that.”
When Darcy returned from escorting his sister out, he found that Mrs. Gardiner had gone to attend to her children. Jane, left as their chaperone, had taken up a discreet position in the window seat across the room with a book. Darcy and Elizabeth were left to conduct their conversation in what was (as long as they kept their voices low) complete privacy.
Never one to waste time on small talk, Darcy came immediately to the subject of most interest to him. “I wish to speak to you about the arrangements for our wedding.”
Hearing Mr. Darcy speak words like our wedding was still an exceedingly strange—and rather unsettling—experience. For a moment panic clutched her heart as she wondered what on earth she had done, but she answered as calmly as she could, “Yes, sir?”
“Have you given any thought to the length of engagement you would like?”
“No, not at all.”
“I would like one month,” he said firmly.
Elizabeth was a little startled. Engagements so short were not uncommon, but with his wealth, the distance between their homes, the fact that she felt she hardly knew him still . . . if she had thought about it, she would have thought a longer engagement appropriate.
“I am anxious to return to Pemberley,” he explained. “I feel I have been absent too long. There is much business there that I cannot really properly settle through the mail. I would like to be married before long so that we can go to Pemberley together and I can have the leisure to attend to everything that needs it, without having to rush away again.” It was not a reason Elizabeth could fault; she was pleased that he seemed to have a real concern for his estate. Then he added, with a small smile, as his eyes caressed her face, “Though if I am honest I will admit that I would wish to be married very soon anyway.”
Her face flamed; she looked confusedly away. He clasped her hand briefly, reassuringly, before withdrawing. Jane was, after all, directly across the room, within their line of sight.
Darcy waited a moment for her to recover her composure. His color, too, was a little high, but he went on in a calm voice, “Pemberley is very beautiful in the summer, and I would like you to see it so.”
“I remember how warmly Miss Bingley praised it,” she murmured. “She called it the most delightful place in the world, if I am not mistaken.”
“I certainly consider it so; I hope that you will, too.”
“I am certain I shall,” she said sincerely, meeting his look again at last. He smiled his approbation. “I cannot tell if one month will be enough, though. The arrangements themselves will not take long, but I will need to buy wedding clothes. I am certain my mother will insist on it.”
“That can easily be done within a month though, surely? You may at least place your orders, and anything you lack you can buy after we marry.”
“As I have never purchased such a large number of clothes at one time, I really cannot say. I think my mother would see it as a matter of pride that we purchase my wedding clothes, not you. After all,” she smiled wryly, “you will pay for everything else. I have no dowry.”
“Elizabeth.” Again his hand came out, this time to touch her cheek fleetingly, making her meet his eyes. “Like Cordelia, you are yourself a dowry. Whatever else may have concerned me about marrying you, your lack of fortune did not. My father was a prudent man with money, and I have tried to follow his example. Even with the money that will leave when Georgiana marries, we shall never be among those who find their revenues insufficient to support their way of life. Your lack of dowry will make no difference to our comfort, or to our children’s. I give you my word on that.”
More than anything he had ever said to her, this speech shamed Elizabeth. She was suddenly, profoundly, and deeply ashamed of the light in which she had regarded him, of the certainty with which she had assumed that his brand of pride valued wealth above anything else. Overwhelmed by contrition, she offered him the only thing she could in that moment. “I will ask my father for one month,” she said.
He smiled immediately, as he had when she first accepted him. It was a very attractive smile. “Thank you,” he said, again briefly pressing her hand.
In a moment’s self-conscious silence, she asked, “Was there any other point you wished to discuss?”
“Actually, yes. Your aunt and uncle mentioned at dinner last night that you had planned to accompany them on a trip to the Lake District this summer.”
“Yes I had—plans prematurely made, I see now.”
“I thought you might be disappointed to lose the trip, as I understand you have never been there before, and so I have a suggestion.”
“Yes?”
“If you would like it, I will take you—for our wedding trip.” Before she could reply, he hurried on. “The Lakes should be seen in the summer time, and I have not been in several years myself. As I said, I would like to go first to Pemberley, but once I am caught up on estate business and all the wedding visits have been concluded, we would be free to do as we liked. We could spend the entire rest of the summer there, if you wished.” With studied casualness he added, “Just you and I, of course.”
For the second time in their conversation, Elizabeth found herself startled into momentary silence. She had heard of couples taking their wedding trips alone, but she had never actually known anyone who did so. The custom was for the bride to invite a close female relative to travel with them—to lend support to her as she adjusted to married life. She would already be married a month or more, by his plan, but they could easily take his sister with them to add companionship to the long journey. The thought of so many days alone in a carriage with Mr. Darcy—and of his purpose in desiring such an arrangement—left her embarrassed and apprehensive. But had she not known that this was what he wanted? Had her aunt not warned her? For her it was a marriage of practicality, but for him, of passion. His price for all that he would give her was that he be allowed to indulge his passion; she could not possibly refuse him.
Darcy had been watching her face closely. He had never been particularly good at reading Elizabeth’s expressions, something he had realized to his dismay at his proposal. He could not now tell what she thought about his rather daring suggestion. He knew it was possible that he might shock her, but really, the thought of having any one else along on his wedding trip was insupportable. Even Georgiana’s beloved presence he could not view as anything other than an intrusion. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been a servant to duty and honor and responsibility for most of his life, and especially since his father died. Now, discovering in himself epicurean tastes he had not known he had, he longed for one summer in which he had no one to see and nothing to do but to enjoy the beauty of God’s creation and the delights of the woman he loved. It would be his reward, not only for putting aside his pride to marry her but also for—well, everything; for the early deaths of his parents, for the heavy responsibilities of his youth—for the self-denial he had practiced in so many areas of his life for so long. When he had decided to offer for Elizabeth, it had been more a matter that he could not deny himself; now it was that he would
not deny himself. If she had asked to bring her sister with her, he would have felt obligated to agree, but he would have been profoundly disappointed.
But Elizabeth saw her duty and did not disappoint. When once she had recovered her self-possession, she smiled shyly at him and said, with a pretty color in her cheeks, “I could never refuse so generous an offer. Since you have been to the Lakes before, I shall depend upon you to direct my effusions; you must tell me which of the Lakes I am to admire the most, and inform my ignorance when I confuse the picturesque with the merely beautiful.”
“I should never presume to tell you what you must admire,” he replied, his eyes betraying his happiness as he smiled that attractive smile yet again. “I shall be content to admire you.”
Her eyes twinkled; she shook her head at his flirting. “Then you would be a very great fool, sir,” she said softly. “You need not go to the Lakes to look at me.”
“But I do if I wish to look at you looking at the Lakes.”
“I shall look the same as I look here.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He reached for her hand. “There is only one way I can think of to find out for certain. In any case, I have, as you said, already seen the Lakes. But I have never seen Elizabeth at the Lakes.”
“She shall prove a poor creature, I daresay, forever staring into the distance and muddying her petticoats by tramping through fields. Not to mention getting a sunburnt nose.”
“I shall look forward to the prospect,” he promised. “Especially the sunburnt nose.”
Elizabeth could hardly avoid accompanying him to the door on this occasion. In the quiet of the hall he took her hands, kissing them warmly. As if he had not already spent so many hours looking at her, he studied her face intently, his look frankly passionate. Yet again she colored under his gaze. Extending one hand, he followed the line of her cheek with the back of his fingers; his thumb moved up to trace her eyebrow, then over her lid. Her eyes closed instinctively; he was leaning closer, looking at something, brushing her eyelashes where they lay against her cheeks. She heard him murmur, “So remarkably fine. . . .”
He bent closer still and kissed her softly on the corner of her mouth. “Good-bye, my Elizabeth,” he said in low, deep tones. And he left her standing there, her heart pounding and her mind whirling.
Chapter Five
Expectation hung about the Darcy house the following morning. Georgiana did not often receive callers, and the combination of their coming and their importance set her into a rather painful flutter. Mrs. Annesley, smiling reassuringly at her, took a seat to the side with some needlework. Darcy was as composed as always, speaking little, but he smiled to himself occasionally, glanced around the room with a critical eye, and strolled over to the window to watch the street below.
Presently, the doorbell rang. The ladies arranged their skirts; Darcy strode forward. They heard muffled voices and footsteps; the butler appeared. All eyes rested expectantly on the doorway.
“Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley,” the butler announced.
Darcy’s brows drew together slightly, and his mouth tightened just a bit.
The ladies swept into the room. “Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “Dearest Miss Darcy!”
“We have longed to visit you for an age, my dear,” said Mrs. Hurst. “And I declare, Mr. Darcy, you have become quite a stranger lately!”
He bowed. “Mrs. Hurst—Miss Bingley. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Why, friendship, of course,” said Miss Bingley, setting herself next to Georgiana. “Might we not call on our friend?”
“Certainly,” he replied, seating himself again but with an eye on the door.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were genuinely fond of Miss Darcy, although it cannot be denied that the handsomeness and wealth of her brother added weight to their affection, and they set out to please her for some minutes quite effectively. They could please when they chose. But Miss Bingley was not long to be denied the true object of her visit, and when refreshments appeared, she left the Miss to the blandishments of her sister and situated herself near the Mister instead.
“I hear I have reason to wish you happy, Mr. Darcy,” she began with an intimate air.
He smiled. “Yes, madam, you do.”
“You must forgive me if I say that I was quite surprised at the news.”
“Not at all. I would have expected you to be surprised.”
“If I had known that Mrs. Bennet really was to be your mother, I would have been more careful how I teased you about it before.”
His eyelids flickered. “An unnecessary apology, I assure you.”
“You are too kind.” She took a sip of her drink. “Have the family at Longbourn heard the delightful news yet? I am sure they will be overjoyed.” Darcy was far too intelligent not to realize what she was doing, but what angered him the most was that it was working. “And what of your uncle, the earl? Has he given you his congratulations?”
“There will be no announcement until after I have spoken with her father next week. I do, however,” he looked at her pointedly, “expect all of my family and friends to be happy for me.”
“Why, of course. Mr. Darcy, I wish you to believe that we desire your happiness every bit as much as you have always desired my brother’s happiness.”
That gambit was met with silence.
“How pleased you must be to be giving Miss Darcy so many sisters! And the two youngest—what were their names?—Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine, wasn’t it?—are quite nearly her age, are they not? I am sure they shall be happy to include her in their activities. Of course, Miss Mary is the really musical one of the family. No doubt they shall play duets together—that is, if you intend her to spend much time with them?”
“Georgiana is much occupied with her studies still,” he replied shortly, his brow growing darker.
“Of course, I forgot that they are already out while she is not. Dear me! I hope it does not make her discontent.”
“I think that unlikely.”
“I am sure you are right. But then you know her so well! You have always been the most conscientious of brothers. I am sure I have never seen any brother so careful of his sister’s welfare as you are.”
“You give me too much credit, Miss Bingley.”
“That could not be possible, Mr. Darcy.”
His mouth drew into a straight line, but whatever he would have said then, it was lost to posterity; the butler reappeared. “Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, and Miss Bennet.”
Although no one spoke of it, the women who travelled together in the Gardiners’ carriage that morning were very aware that this was much more than a simple social call. Not only was Miss Darcy to be Elizabeth’s sister-in-law but also the house they were calling at would soon be Elizabeth’s own. She would not be received formally as future mistress, but as Elizabeth watched the homes outside the carriage window become successively grander, she could not prevent all the anxiety attendant upon such an introduction. Going there that day—seeing Mr. Darcy and his sister, together, in their house—was tantamount to receiving a vision of her future.
The town house they finally pulled up before was quite large and very fine but not so grandiose as she had feared. Compared with some of the edifices they had rolled past, it appeared almost unassuming. Walking up the steps, Elizabeth clutched her reticule with nervous fingers; Jane slipped her arm through hers and smiled at her reassuringly.
The exceedingly proper butler led them through an elegant hall with a highly polished floor, past a gracefully curved staircase. Elizabeth’s eyes moved everywhere; it seemed unreal.
They were ushered into a sunny front parlor and were met with the sight of Miss Bingley flushing in vexation and Mrs. Hurst raising supercilious brows. Jane stiffened just slightly, and it was Elizabeth’s turn to offer silent reassurance. Darcy rose quickly and came forward, greeting them all with deliberate, even warm civility. The others, too, rose, some more reluctantly than others.
“What a long time it is since we saw you last, Miss Bennet,” observed Mrs. Hurst when they had seated themselves stiffly around the room.
“I am surprised that you did not return our call,” added Miss Bingley.
“I beg your pardon,” Jane replied politely. Mrs. Gardiner, who was sitting protectively on one side of her, immediately claimed Mrs. Hurst’s attention, while Elizabeth on the other did the same with Miss Bingley.
Georgiana, watching this interaction, was confused by a tension she did not understand. Darcy was smarting from Miss Bingley’s well-placed barbs, but the result was the opposite of what that lady intended: Instead of shunning Elizabeth and turning to her, he shunned her and fixed his gaze on Elizabeth with single-minded purpose. As for Elizabeth, she noted Miss Bingley’s jealousy with sufficiently catty amusement, but her concern was all for her sister.
“Have you enjoyed your winter in town?” she asked her.
“Oh, yes! I find it vastly superior to the country, do you not agree?
“Not at all. Other than the company of my aunt and uncle and the occasional amusement, I’m afraid it has little attraction for me.”
“Naturally, I suppose. After all, there is so little opportunity for a really long walk.”
“Exactly so.” She smiled back with perfect composure.
Suddenly Mr. Darcy spoke. “Fortunately, Pemberley’s grounds are extensive enough for even the most inveterate walker.”
Miss Bingley flushed anew. Bitter prudence held her tongue; she could not risk offending Mr. Darcy by openly insulting his betrothed, no matter how the words burned in her mouth. Just then, like the slow toll of a sonorous bell, the butler entered again. “Mr. Forsythe, Mrs. Forsythe, Mr. Forsythe, and Miss Forsythe,” he intoned. Darcy’s brows rose.
This family proved to consist of a gentleman, his wife, sister, and younger brother. All looked very fashionable and regarded the party from Gracechurch Street with thinly disguised curiosity. Mr. Darcy performed the introductions with rather better grace than Elizabeth had expected under the circumstances. She thought he cast her an apologetic look, and could only shrug in response. He was obviously a sought-after man.
Unequal Affections: A Pride and Prejudice Retelling Page 8