His Uncle's Favorite

by Lilian, Lory

  Her heart melted as she remembered how easily her words brought joy to his handsome face. She was no longer afraid to admit to herself what she began to understand but feared to hope for so long: he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would answer all her wishes, and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she would receive a benefit of great importance. It would be a union that—she hoped—would be to the advantage of both. She knew he needed little to complete his character, and she had little to offer him except her feelings, but perhaps—yes, perhaps—her ease and liveliness would soften his mind and improve his manners.

  In the solitude of her bed, she smiled, recollecting the way his manners towards her had improved since they first met—well, perhaps not improved but certainly softened.

  Slowly, her mind returned to their early meeting: every word, every glance, and every touch. She recalled his fingers entwining with hers, his arms holding her tightly, his warmth, his strength, the intoxicating feeling of his lips on hers, his voice and his gaze—the feeling of having a bond between them…and the chill as he left.

  She briefly considered that she was exhausted and needed to sleep a little before she spent time with the children. It took only an instant for her to fall into a deep asleep.

  Elizabeth did not wake until a din of voices from the yard invaded her room through the open window. The party had returned from riding, and she was still in bed!

  As if she were late for an important meeting, she hurriedly changed her clothes and put up her hair as well as she could. It was quite late in the afternoon—or so she thought.

  She expected the others to be in the drawing room, but there it was all silence. She met a young maid who smiled, greeted her politely, and then informed her that the guests had retired to their rooms and she expected them down in an hour’s time for tea and refreshments. The children, the maid said, were in their apartments, sleeping.

  An hour—of course, what was she thinking? Surely, everyone needed to rest and change from their riding clothes! She felt slightly embarrassed by her childish eagerness as she thanked the maid. She had an hour to wait and needed to find a way to employ her time.

  She briefly considered returning to her room but abandoned the idea and walked towards the library instead. She would find something to read.

  Even before she opened the heavy door, curiosity began to war with her better judgement. The temptation to take another look—closer and more attentive—at the pictures of Mr. Wickham was compelling.

  She entered the large room and walked slowly along the walls, glancing at the impressive shelves, then stopped in front of the small paintings, studying them with great interest.

  “Miss Bennet?”

  She startled so violently that she needed a moment before she finally turned and lifted her eyes to meet Darcy’s inquiring ones. He smiled, obviously pleased to see her.

  “Forgive me—did I frighten you? I just came from the drawing room—a maid told me you might be here—and to be honest I hoped I could speak to you privately a moment.”

  “I was in the drawing room a few minutes ago, and I was told everybody was upstairs resting. You did not frighten me; I was just surprised. Did you have a pleasant ride?”

  She tried to smile while she felt her heart beating wildly. He took her hand and invited her to sit on the couch.

  “Not particularly pleasant… I mean, it was an ordinary ride. I confess I prefer riding in much smaller company.”

  She laughed. “You are not fond of large parties, I have noticed.”

  “No, not fond, indeed…”

  “I hope Georgiana had a pleasant time.”

  “She did.” He hesitated and averted his eyes from her for a moment then looked at her again. “I hope you do not mind; I took the liberty of telling her…about our discussion…”

  She blushed but held his gaze. He appeared uncomfortable and worried.

  “I do not mind, but pray tell me—what did you tell her?”

  “I told her that we talked and that I have your permission to court you…”

  “I see…and what did she say?”

  He hesitated again, and she noticed he fought to cover a smile.

  “She said, ‘Surely you are joking!’”

  Elizabeth looked at him in complete puzzlement. She did not expect such a reaction.

  “Why would she say that? Why did she believe you were joking?”

  “Well, I asked her the same, and she replied, ‘You just began to court her? But I believed you were courting Elizabeth in London! I hope you are telling me that you finally came to an arrangement!’ I confess I never saw my sister so disappointed.”

  Elizabeth laughed, her face burning. He still held her hands.

  “I am sorry to be the reason for Georgiana’s disappointment.”

  “No indeed—she was disappointed with me—and rightfully so. It made me think…”

  His countenance changed again, and he tightened the hold on her hand.

  “All these hours I thought of what I said earlier today, and I wondered… As the recent past has proved, there are times when I express myself rather ambiguously,” he said, mocking himself. “So…I shall keep my word not to rush you, but I must ask…was it beyond any doubt that I intend to ask for your hand in marriage? You may take all the time you need to be certain, but…”

  He was completely distressed again, his fingers unconsciously caressing hers while his voice, grave and deep, was overwhelmed with emotion. She felt grateful that she was sitting, or else her knees certainly would have betrayed her.

  “I confess I had some suspicions about your intention, but as the recent past has proved to us, I am not very perceptive, and I dare not make any assumptions…so—no, your intention was not beyond any doubt…” She hoped he noticed that she was joking.

  “I see… Then please let me try to rectify my fault, Miss Bennet.” His serious, preoccupied gaze captured her eyes, and she could see his expression softening with her every word. He rose from the couch, and she mirrored his move. Slowly, he lifted their joined hands to his heart and spoke, his emotions hardly bearable.

  “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

  She instantly recognised the words, but his voice, his expression, his eyes caressing her face, his hands tenderly holding hers, his lips forcing a smile—everything was so new that the meaning of his declaration became utterly, frightfully different.

  She said nothing, so he continued.

  “I know I have said these words before, but I need to repeat them because only now do I understand them in depth. I did love and admire you in January, but my love was defeated by my selfish desire—the desire to have you—because I was aware that I could have no peace or tranquillity or joy without you. I thought of little else than how I could have you for myself, and it never occurred to me that I might not have my own way. I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses. I came to you without a doubt of my reception, and you taught me the hardest and most useful lesson of my life. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

  Her strength had long betrayed her, and she was certain she would not be able to contain her tears any longer. She wished him to speak more, to wipe away all the painful memories of that day, to confess to him her own fears and self-reproach, but for the moment she could bear no more. She freed her hand from his tight grip and pressed her fingers against his lips to silence him. His lips, half opened, brushed warmly against her trembling fingers. He paused.

  “Mr. Darcy… There are so many things that need to be said between us that a whole day would not suffice. We might be interrupted any moment, so I shall not quarrel with you for the greater share of blame annexed to that day. The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, would be irreproach
able; even more, there were other reasons that contributed to our misunderstanding. Perhaps we should delay this discussion for another time. I confess I am still not completely certain of your intention…whether you proposed to me or not…”

  The emotion made it difficult for her to speak, and her attempt to dissipate her anxiety with a light tone met with little success. He struggled to continue, but she still held her fingers to his lips, so Elizabeth was the one who spoke further.

  “However, there is something that needs to be said this instant. I do feel that the words you just repeated to me were the same yet so different, as I do feel that your…affection for me has changed. I can see it in every glance, every gesture, every word. I could see it long ago when you kindly offered me your trust, though I had so abominably abused you. I could see it in your generous support for my father and—”

  He gently captured her hand again to release his lips, which daringly hurried to silence her. She gasped in surprise, but a moment later, she forgot everything she wished to say. His hands abandoned hers and wrapped her in a breathtaking embrace; her own hands tentatively slid around his waist in search of his warmth and his tender support. Her lips shyly tried to learn how to respond to his kiss as her heart beat wildly.

  As unexpectedly as it began, Darcy withdrew from her but kept her in his embrace. He gently walked her back to the settee, took her hands again then slowly knelt by her, his face only a few inches from hers, and spoke clearly and simply.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the honour of marrying me? There is no need to answer me now; you may take all the time you wish—”

  “Mr. Darcy?” Her voice interrupted him, serious and determined.

  “Yes?”

  “As Georgiana said earlier—‘surely you are joking, sir’! I thought I already gave you my answer, but it seems you are not very perceptive, either.”

  He looked at her in disbelief, wondering whether he understood her correctly, and she laughed nervously and tearfully. She then moved slowly and, as he was still kneeling, allowed a shy kiss of her own to give him the answer he needed.

  It was no wonder that, when the library door opened and Miss Darcy appeared, searching for Elizabeth, neither of them noticed her presence.

  Embarrassed at her intrusion, Miss Darcy slowly retreated, closed the door behind her and propped herself against the wall, catching her breath. Then she joyfully ran through the halls as she did as a little girl. For the first time in her life, she had dared to mock and scold her brother—and with so much success! It seemed that Fitzwilliam Darcy had already made the proper amends to rectify his error. He had always been a man of action—no doubt about that.

  ***

  Later that day the entire party was gathered in the drawing room, waiting for dinner to be announced. Still overwhelmed by the events that had changed her life in a heartbeat, Elizabeth had little to say to the others. Her eyes frequently encountered Darcy’s own, and more than once she saw Mrs. Gardiner watching her with great interest. She knew she would have to speak to her aunt soon, but she needed a little more time to become accustomed to her unexpected happiness.

  Besides, she and Darcy decided not to make their arrangement public until they returned to Hertfordshire and spoke to Mr. Bennet. It would be only a few days delay, but Mrs. Gardiner, who was exceedingly attentive, surely would notice even the smallest change in their behaviour, so it would be difficult to keep the secret.

  Earlier, Jane expressed her wish to speak privately, and Elizabeth wondered—briefly—what her sister had to say. It could not be anything grave, as Jane seemed very happy.

  Elizabeth noticed Darcy exchanging a few words with Georgiana, and the girl’s happy glance allowed little doubt about their discussion. Elizabeth smiled at them both then turned to Jane, who was just whispering something, ashamed that she neglected her sister.

  “Jane dearest, I was wondering… After dinner perhaps we can find a few moments to talk—just the two of us? You must tell me about your ride.”

  “Oh, I would love that, Lizzy. I have so much to tell you—”

  “About riding?” Elizabeth laughed, and Jane blushed violently while she whispered.

  “No, not really. I mean—the ride was very pleasant…”

  “You know, I did not expect Miss Bennet to be such a skilful rider,” Lord Matlock intervened. “I was quite impressed. Beautiful and brave and with the sweetest disposition—I say, Miss Bennet, there must be many young men vying for your affection, and very few of them deserve it. You must be stern and particular in your choice,” the earl added, and Jane became crimson while Mr. Bingley blanched.

  “Bingley, be so kind as to give me a glass of brandy, would you, son? And perhaps you should consider one for yourself; you look quite distressed,” Lord Matlock concluded while the colonel quickly moved near Darcy, both struggling to keep their countenance.

  Elizabeth did not miss their amusement, but she was not willing to make fun at her sister’s expense, so she cast a sharp glance at them. The next moment, the earl’s attention found another object.

  “What about you, Miss Elizabeth? How did you employ your time? Were you not bored? When do you plan to commence riding lessons?”

  “Excellent attempt, your lordship.” Elizabeth laughed. “Not very successful, though. It is true that I have significantly changed my opinion about riding during the last few days, but I still prefer walking—”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Miss Elizabeth. I had great hope that you would be persuaded to change some of your earlier preferences, but it appears my confidence was undeservedly bestowed. Persuasion is a rare virtue, apparently, and needs much effort, but success is even more worthy,” he said with sharp mockery, hidden beneath apparent seriousness.

  “Persuasion is indeed a rare virtue, as are patience—and wisdom,” Darcy intervened as he moved a few steps nearer. “Besides, I consider it a great merit for a young lady not to change her preferences and opinions easily. Success in convincing a young lady of exceptional wit and self-confidence is worth any effort.”

  As he spoke, Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and their eyes met and held. Every word brought her equal joy and embarrassment, and she wondered briefly whether the other guests understood to whom they were referring.

  “True, true…” the earl added. “Patience and wisdom are great virtues but only if they do not crush and defeat passion and daring.”

  “You are right, of course, Uncle, but passion and daring require a strong character and superior mind to keep them under good regulation.”

  During the entire exchange, Darcy barely took his eyes from Elizabeth and looked at his uncle only briefly. She felt increasingly flustered, and breathing became more difficult with every passing moment. She wished to speak, but her lips became so dry that she struggled to open them. Suddenly, she heard herself whispering.

  “I would love to learn how to ride if it is possible…”

  The others stared at her in utter bewilderment, as her words seemed to have no relevance to the conversation. Mr. Bingley was uncertain about the subject of the discussion, so he gulped some brandy to hide his puzzlement. Then the earl started to laugh, took Elizabeth’s hand and kissed it gently.

  “I am very happy to hear that, my dear—very happy indeed.”

  “Not happier than I am, I assure you,” Darcy concluded in a lower voice, a mischievous smile lighting his face as he continued to look at Elizabeth.

  The earl laughed again.

  “I am very happy that you are all happy, gentlemen,” Elizabeth finally replied, attempting to sound perfectly light and easy. “Had I known that my riding lessons would bring you so much happiness, I surely would have broached the subject earlier.” She forced a laugh.

  “The timing was perfect, I assure you, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied. “Neither sooner nor later would have been as adequate.”

  “I cannot argue with you in that, sir,” Elizabeth admitted, her eyes still locked with his.


  Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were certain that their eyes and their common sense betrayed them when they saw Lord Matlock kissing Eliza Bennet’s hand. It was worse than anything they imagined before.

  The butler finally invited them all to the dining room. Darcy offered Elizabeth his hand; she took it and began to rise from the settee, but flustered from the earlier conversation and Darcy’s meaningful gaze, Elizabeth forgot about the coffee cup in her left hand. The coffee spilled into her lap, a large, dark stain spreading over her gown. She let out a small cry, which caused Darcy to ask if she were hurt.

  “No, no, I am not hurt—only my pride,” she said, crimson and self-conscious, attempting to make light of her carelessness. “Please forgive me; I shall change in an instant. I beg you, proceed with dinner; do not wait for me,” she addressed Lady Selina then left the room in a great hurry, while Jane followed her immediately.

  “Please forgive me; we will be back shortly.” Mrs. Gardiner politely excused herself and left to follow her nieces.

  Darcy looked around for a moment, uncertain what he should do and hoping their indiscreet and improper conversation did not upset Elizabeth. He should not have said so much without her permission.

  “You seemed preoccupied, Cousin. And very lost in her eyes if I may say so…” the colonel teased him as they walked to the dining room. “Miss Elizabeth is well, I hope?”

  “Yes…I believe she is. And feel free to make fun of me, Robert, but please do it privately. I do not want to embarrass Elizabeth more than I already have.”

  “So—she is ‘Elizabeth’ now?”

  Darcy hesitated a moment. “Yes, she is.”

  “I see… Is there anything else I should know—anything else you might be tempted to share with me? You know you can trust me when needed.”

  “I know that. I do not doubt your secrecy. But I beg your patience a little longer.”

  “I can be patient if you wish me to. I can be the soul of absolute discretion, but I am no fool, so I cannot pretend I do not understand what this means. I shall, but not with you.”

  “Thank you—your discretion is appreciated.” Darcy smiled.