by Brigid Huey
No. He could not bear it. His Elizabeth, his sweet, lovely Elizabeth, felt the burden of a debt that could never be repaid. How could he pursue her now, knowing as he did how seriously she would view this debt?
***
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy carefully. Something she had said had upset him greatly. His entire demeanor had changed. He looked almost despondent. She knew he did not wish for her to acknowledge his good deed, but she must. Why, though, would he look so very sad?
“Mr. Darcy? I am sorry if I have brought you pain.”
“I do not desire your gratitude, Miss Bennet,” he said.
“Whyever not?” she asked. “We are friends, are we not?”
“Yes, we are friends.” Mr. Darcy turned away as if to gather his thoughts. Elizabeth could see the tension in his body, but she could not stop the words from escaping.
“Whatever is the matter, sir?”
“I…I do not want you to feel a sense of obligation,” he replied, his back still turned to her.
“Obligation?”
Mr. Darcy was silent for some time. Her confusion grew with each passing moment. At length, he turned to face her once more. His face was stern, yet something in his eyes made her heart stutter.
“I do not desire your gratitude, Miss Bennet, because I desire your affection,” he said at last.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she went very still.
“Everything I did for Miss Lydia, I did because it was my responsibility. And yet, I thought only of you. I could not tell you about my involvement. I could not risk…that is…”
He let out a frustrated huff of air, raking his hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair. “My affections and wishes have not changed since last April. If I were to court you now properly—the way you deserve to be courted—and you knew how I had helped your sister, how could I ever trust your affections? I had no wish to earn your hand through a misplaced sense of obligation.”
His dark eyes held hers as if pleading with her to understand.
“I see,” Elizabeth replied, her thoughts a whirl. Mr. Darcy still desired her affection? Did he truly say his wishes had not changed? Slowly, a smile spread across her lips.
Mr. Darcy relaxed ever so slightly. “Will you forgive me for not involving you in my decision to pursue Wickham?”
Elizabeth shook her head. The man took entirely too much upon his shoulders. No wonder he looked so stern and aloof to the untrained eye.
“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Darcy.”
“You are not angry with me?” The relief in his voice was palpable.
“I am not,” Elizabeth said. “Nor do I feel a sense of obligation, though I am grateful.”
He stilled, waiting for her to say more. When she did not, he moved closer, standing before her now. She watched as he bent his head toward hers and lost herself for a moment in the depths of his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft.
“May I ask then, what you do feel?”
This was, beyond a doubt, her chance to set things right between them. How could she not but take the risk? She took a fortifying breath.
“I feel an affection so deep within my heart that it must be love. And I wish very much that I had the means to convince you that obligation has nothing, nothing, to do with it.”
A look of heartfelt delight lit his features, and she found herself smiling in return.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed. “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He took both her hands in his and brought them slowly to his lips. “How I have longed to hear words such as these.”
Her heart was beating so fast, she could scarcely breathe, let alone reply. His lips upon her fingertips was a sensation so new and distracting, she could focus on little else. But a moment later, he released her hands, and stepped back.
“Mr. Darcy?” she breathed. A look of despair clouded his features. What had happened? Just a moment ago they were in blissful union, finally in tune with each other. “What is wrong?”
***
She was his, finally his, and he would lose her again. Dear God, how could he tell her now? But he knew with dismal certainty that he must.
“Elizabeth,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to a fallen tree resting nearby. “With you, I must be completely honest.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice quavering slightly, “please tell me what is wrong.”
He held her hand, trying to gain strength from her nearness. All he wanted was to gather her to him, kiss her lips, and bury his face in her curls. But the truth lay between them, and though it may divide them forever, it must be said.
“Elizabeth,” he said again. “I love you. But there is something you must know.”
She smiled at his words, his declaration clearly bringing her joy though her eyes were still troubled.
“I have found Daisy’s father.”
“Oh!” she said. “My dear Mr. Darcy, I feel you ought to be relieved, but you are not. Whatever has happened?”
“Daisy is…” He took a fortifying breath. “Wickham claims that she is his child.”
She was silent, her brow furrowed.
“When I found him in London, he told me of Daisy’s mother, of her history. His story matched the one I initially found during my own investigation. He claimed Daisy as his own.”
“That is hardly proof.”
“That is exactly what Georgiana said,” Darcy replied with a ghost of a smile. “However, it hardly matters. Wickham has no wish to try to take Daisy. What he relishes is the power of scandal. His close connection to my family lends credence to his claim, and I have no doubt that he will wield this power when it suits him.”
Darcy felt an unexpected sense of lightness, having finally confessed all to Elizabeth. She sat very still on the log next to him, but she held tightly to his hand.
“How awful for you,” she breathed. “And poor Georgiana! What a difficult, tragic situation.”
“Indeed. It has been hard on Georgiana. Yet she is a remarkable young woman and seems to be taking it in stride. She has no wish for Daisy to go. As both of you have pointed out, it is his word against mine. If he should reveal the details of Daisy’s parentage in a public manner, he would not be able to take her from us. However, he would be successful in besmirching the Darcy name, something he has long wished to do.”
“Scandal is more popular than truth.”
“Quite so, Elizabeth.”
“Georgiana has such a warm heart,” she said. “I have no doubt that she has the capacity to love Daisy fully, despite her parentage.”
“But I cannot ask you to do the same,” Darcy countered, his own heart heavy. “Daisy is one of us now—a Darcy—and we will not cast her out. How could I possibly ask you to accept your brother’s child in this way?”
Elizabeth held fast to his hand. She shook her head, her chestnut curls bouncing delightfully around her face.
“Mr. Darcy, may I offer you some advice? As a friend?” she asked.
He was surprised by her tone. She seemed to be teasing him. Had she not understood?
“Of course,” he replied, bemused by her behavior.
She raised her other hand to his cheek and held it there, her delicate fingers cupping his face with the gentlest touch.
“When a woman tells you of her affections, you would do well to believe her.”
“I do believe you, Elizabeth,” he said at once, “but you must see—”
She silenced him with her fingers to his lips.
“Wickham’s claim may or may not be true,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “We both know how adept he is at manipulation. However, it cannot change the way I feel. Daisy’s father could be the devil himself, and I would love her still—just as I love you.”
He reached up and grasped her hand, planting a kiss on her palm. Such a woman as this, he did not deserve. Unable to help himself, he pulled her close, kissing her lips. She was soft and shy and everything he had ever wanted.
&nbs
p; “Marry me, Elizabeth,” he whispered, resting his forehead on hers. “Please do me the honor of being my wife, my dearest.”
“Yes, my dear friend. I shall marry you.”
He felt her sigh as she rested her head on his chest. Darcy marveled at the happiness he felt as he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her slight frame. Since that day in Hunsford, he had been so certain that such felicity as this was beyond his reach. And now, his heart was full to bursting.
Chapter Thirteen
Deciding to wait to approach her father until after Wickham and Lydia had departed, they walked together until they were within view of Longbourn. Here Mr. Darcy stopped, and taking her in his arms, he asked, “Tell me again, my love.”
“I shall marry you, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth laughed. He had asked her to repeat it at least twice as they walked. “Do you really doubt it so much?”
“How can I not, my dear? I do recall you saying that I was the last man in the word you could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
Elizabeth felt herself blush with mortification. “Oh! Do not dare repeat that statement again! It was not long after I had spoken thus that I wished it unsaid.”
“It was no more than I deserved,” Mr. Darcy replied, smiling down on her. “My behavior to you at the time merited the severest reproof.”
“We shall not quarrel for the greater part of blame. Hopefully, we have both improved in civility since that evening.”
“I know you have, my love,” Mr. Darcy said, growing closer still. Lizzy felt her breath catch. She was still new to the sensation his kisses gave her, and she trembled as he drew her close, pressing his lips to hers once more.
After a moment, he stepped back, keeping hold of her hand.
“I think it best that I depart, though I am sorry to do so.”
“Will you come back tonight?” she asked.
“As promised, my dear Elizabeth. I shall come to afternoon tea with Bingley.”
“Do you know, my dear Mr. Darcy, that more has happened of import in this past month than has happened to me in the whole of my life?”
He laughed, and the sound filled her own heart with lightness. “It has been rather tumultuous of late, I agree.”
“I must go,” she said, unable to stop smiling at him. “My mother is no doubt beside herself that I have not returned.”
“I do not want to let you go,” he murmured.
“Nor I you,” she replied, happiness bubbling up inside her. “But we both know that I must, sir, so let me be off.”
He sighed rather dramatically, Elizabeth thought, but released her, allowing her to walk the short way home at last
“I do not think I can bear a long engagement,” he called after her.
She turned and looked at him archly, trying to maintain a shocked expression at his boldness. Before long, however, she laughed openly and gave him a wave. She hurried home with a light step and a glad heart.
She was completely unconcerned to find that Lydia and Wickham were preparing to depart at any moment. Her mother’s admonishments were heard, but not attended to, and she met Jane’s questioning look with a twinkle in her eye.
She paid Lydia as much attention she could but, in truth, heard little of the prattling that went on around her. At long last, the couple was off, Lydia hanging inelegantly out of the carriage window to wave goodbye. Elizabeth did feel a momentary pang at her departure. And yet, the peace that followed it was most welcome.
Her father pulled her aside as she went into the house. “Lizzy, my dear, where were you this morning? It is unlike you not to attend to your mother’s requests.”
“I am sorry, Papa,” Elizabeth replied, earnestly regretful that she had neglected his request to return early, for she knew that was what he meant.
“It is no matter, really,” he replied. “I simply had to endure your mother’s insistence that I either go out into the woods and fetch you myself or disown you outright once you returned.”
Lizzy laughed. “Well, I am glad you decided to ignore these immoderate requests.”
“As ever, my dear. Now, if anyone should ask for me, I shall be in my library, wishing very much not to be disturbed.”
“I can make no promises, Papa,” she replied, hoping her father would not notice her blushes.
He sighed dramatically before disappearing into his library.
***
“Darcy!” Bingley cried. Darcy looked up to see his friend running down the steps to meet him. “Where the devil have you been? The servants said you went out for a walk, but that was hours ago!”
“Forgive me, Bingley,” Darcy replied. “I fancied a long stretch of the legs after all the travel of the past weeks. It was rude of me not to wait for you to return before I went out.”
Bingley waved away this bit of politeness. “It is nothing. If I thought you were in any trouble, I would have gone after you. I find only that I am a bit anxious to be off. I am taking tea with the Bennets this afternoon.”
“Indeed?” Darcy replied, trying to sound as if this information were new to him. Elizabeth had asked him to say nothing until he had a chance to speak with her father. It was harder than he had expected not to reveal all to his friend.
“Yes, and Darcy, you will accompany me?”
“Give me one moment to change into the proper attire, and I shall be ready to take tea with the Bennets.”
Darcy found that he was nervous though he longed to see Elizabeth as soon as possible. Yet he well remembered Lizzy’s words at the parsonage. And he had a fair idea that her former opinion of him was generally shared by the entire neighborhood.
Would her father reject his suit? Surely not. After all, Darcy was a well-propertied man of good family and reputation. Mr. Bennet may not particularly like him, but Elizabeth deemed him worthy.
Armed with this comforting thought, Darcy spent the short drive to Longbourn listening to Bingley speak at length about the many qualities of Jane Bennet. When at last they arrived, they were shown into the parlor where Mrs. Bennet greeted his friend with effusions of delight and gratitude. To himself, she nodded and gave a curt welcome. Amused with this difference in reception, Darcy’s eyes immediately sought Elizabeth’s. He was dismayed to find them troubled, a blush of embarrassment on her lovely face.
She glanced at her mother and gave him a look of such mortification that he longed to cross the room and hold her, if only to assure her that he cared not what her mother might think of him. Thinking better of it, he instead surveyed the room and realized that Mr. Bennet was not among those assembled.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Bennet, is Mr. Bennet at home?”
Mrs. Bennet seemed taken aback that he was addressing her directly. She sniffed as if his enquiry somehow offended her sensibilities.
“He is, indeed. You will find him in the library.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Darcy said in his kindest tone. “I should like to greet him in person if you will excuse me?”
Mrs. Bennet dismissed him with a wave, and Darcy rose to seek out Mr. Bennet. As he turned to close the parlor door behind him, he looked again at Elizabeth. Her countenance was worried, but she smiled at him. He returned her smile with one of his own and closed the door, immediately asking a passing servant to direct him to the library.
Mr. Bennet did not seem pleased to be interrupted. However, as Darcy entered the room, his expression turned from consternation to surprise.
“Mr. Darcy,” he said, “what can I do for you, sir?”
Darcy greeted the man with a low bow of respect. He thought of Elizabeth’s worried face as he sat down opposite Mr. Bennet in front of the fire.
“Sir,” he began, “I must speak with you about a matter of utmost importance.”
“Indeed?” Mr. Bennet replied.
“Yes, sir. I wish to ask for your daughter Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.”
A stunned silence followed this statement.
“You wish to marry my Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet demanded
at last.
“I do, sir.”
“Why?”
Darcy was well aware that Elizabeth was Mr. Bennet’s favorite daughter. He considered his reply for a moment, finally deciding to speak with the direct, blunt tone that Mr. Bennet had initiated.
“I wish to marry your daughter because I love her. Considering my situation in life, I hope this reason will be enough to secure your blessing.”
Another long silence followed his answer. Evidently, Mr. Bennet was not going to make it easy for him.
“What does my daughter say to this?”
“She has accepted my proposal.”
“Has she, indeed?”
Mr. Bennet rose from his chair and began to pace the room. Darcy smothered a smile. It seemed they shared this habit at least. Finally, the man stopped walking and turned to face him.
“Mr. Darcy, I know enough of you and your situation to feel confident that you can provide for my daughter monetarily, so I shan’t sport with you about your financial health or family connections. If you say that my Lizzy has accepted your proposal, then I shall grant you my consent. However, I wish to speak with her first.”
“I understand, sir,” Darcy said, rising. “I shall send her to you at the first opportunity.”
Mr. Bennet merely nodded. He seemed like a man stunned—as if he had just woken from a dream and could not rely on his wits to guide him.
***
Elizabeth sat in the parlor without hearing the conversation around her. Was Mr. Darcy speaking with her father now? Had Papa consented? Surely, he would not give Mr. Darcy any trouble.
She shook her head. Of course he would.
“Lizzy? You do not wish to go?”
Jane stood before her. Elizabeth looked at her with a blank expression.
“Woolgathering again?” Jane said, though her tone was gentle.
“Forgive me.” Elizabeth tried to smile normally. “Where are we going?”
“Miss Bennet and I thought a walk in the gardens would be lovely,” Mr. Bingley said.
The ladies fetched their wraps, and they stepped outside into the brilliant sunshine. Yet, the little party had gone but a few paces when she heard her name.