Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

T he wedding of Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley was all that was glorious, but Elizabeth could hardly pay attention to the event her mother and sister had so meticulously planned. The effort to keep her eyes from Darcy was all-consuming. Since the words and promises they had shared and the kisses they had exchanged the night before, she had struggled to fix her attention on anyone who was not the tallest, handsomest, best man she had ever known. No one, not even Jane or Mr Bingley, was yet aware of what had passed between them. It was their wedding day, and she and Darcy had agreed they would not steal the attention from them.

Had she wished drama, it would have been easy to create, for all of her former suitors were at the wedding breakfast: Mr Goulding, Mr Lucas, Mr Nugent, and Mr Collins. Darcy had smiles and handshakes for two of them, a nod to the third, and a permanent glower for the last. Feeling pity for Charlotte, to whom he was everything polite, Elizabeth walked over to Darcy with a cup of her mother's popular punch. "No one but the bride's mother is allowed to swoon on a wedding day, and certainly no one is supposed to die from a thousand sharp glares of hostility."

"He deserves to suffer for what he has done."

"But Charlotte does not, and they will face worse from your aunt when our engagement is announced. Mr Collins is a weak-willed man, but perhaps a few words from you could give him the courage to be a better man."

He looked at her, incredulous. "Which few words, specifically?"

"Hmm, perhaps ‘you shall outlive my aunt' or ‘She is all bark, no bite' or ‘I shall not kill you'?"

His smile, the one that lit up his face and which was becoming increasingly common when they were alone, appeared quickly—and just as quickly caught the attention of more than a few revellers. Elizabeth felt their scrutiny, and raised the glass of punch Darcy had refused in their direction. "To Mr and Mrs Bingley," she said cheerfully.

Darcy strolled over to Mr Collins, who looked up from his cake and as predicted, nearly swooned. Elizabeth watched as Darcy said something quietly to him. Mr Collins nodded eagerly. Darcy clapped his shoulder and once returned to her side, said quietly, "Tempting as your last suggestion was, I opted for ‘All is forgiven, but only if you listen more to your wife than you do to my aunt'."

"Thank you." Elizabeth felt a swell of pride at his graciousness, and whispered, "I was wrong about the swooning. I am so pleased with you that I may faint if I do not kiss you."

A few minutes after Elizabeth emerged from the music room which Darcy had expressed a fervent wish to inspect with her, Mr Bennet came to stand by her. "You look as happy as your sister today. I am glad to see Jane well-settled. She has found herself a husband she likes even more than does your mother, and he will provide me amusement for years to come. But they are so perfectly amicable! Are you certain you wish to live with them?"

She shrugged, displeased with his mocking tone, and kept her eyes fixed to the vision of happiness that was Jane as she spoke to their young Gardiner cousins.

"Have you avoided all of your former lovers? To have all of them—Collins, Lucas, Goulding, and Nugent—here for a wedding is a perversity unto itself." He chuckled. "Of these hearts and hands, but one you had need accept. And yet, all now are taken. Do you, seeing today's joy, have any regrets?"

Turning, she gave him an arch look. "Only that I have made the only man I could ever marry wait longer than I should."

"Say what? Lizzy?"

She slipped away, unwilling to give her father any satisfaction and unable to resist embracing her dearest, and newly married, sister.

As the celebration neared its end, Darcy asked to speak to Mr Bennet. They stepped inside the book-room he had last seen in the autumn, the morning he rode to London, disappointed at not seeing Elizabeth beforehand.

"Mr Bennet," he said, once he had sat in the chair across from the desk.

"Drink this," said Mr Bennet. "It is superior to the punch my wife is serving or the wine used for toasts."

He poured two glasses of brandy and pushed one towards Darcy, who sniffed it and set it aside. He had no use for it; love itself, and the knowledge that Elizabeth would be his wife, was intoxicant enough.

Mr Bennet looked at him as if in shared camaraderie. "You too are weary of joy and celebration? Would you prefer to talk philosophy or poetry?"

"Proposals. I am happy to inform you that Elizabeth has accepted mine and I have accepted hers. The first she has ever offered to a gentleman."

Darcy steepled his fingers in imitation of Mr Bennet, who appeared frozen in shock.

"You and Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"Is this about the offer you tendered in the autumn to assure her reputation?"

"That offer was given to you, and she never knew of it." Darcy was somewhat angry that Mr Bennet had withheld that assurance from Elizabeth. It would, at the least, have comforted her in the face of her father's cruel ultimatum. But time had passed, and it did no one any favours to create enmity. "No, this offer is made based on my love for her. We will have a marriage of mutual felicity based on trust and understanding. "

"Truly, Mr Darcy? You may have professed sincerity in your proposal and her acceptance of it, but I cannot like the suddenness of it."

"Mr Bennet, my understanding is that the speed of any alliance was not imperative when you informed your daughter she must accept her next proposal, regardless of who made the offer or in what form or haste." Darcy stared at the untouched glass of brandy. "The inferiority of the match was not critical to your happiness or to hers—there was only the desire to marry off Elizabeth and be done with the deed."

"That is not exactly true. Lizzy is the cleverest of my daughters yet she has been a ridiculous creature when it comes to considering matrimony."

"You would have had her betrothed at the age of ten, was it, to Mr Goulding? Or, staying that proposal, given her hand to Mr Lucas when she was scarcely sixteen and he still at university?"

"Such was my fate at the youthful age of one-and-twenty, and Mrs Bennet a mere seventeen."

Darcy waited for the man to realise the feebleness of such a defence, but when Mr Bennet failed to acknowledge it, he said, "Of course, and you can celebrate some twenty-five years of mutual respect and felicity in your marriage."

Mr Bennet sighed. "Point taken, but I must fault your lack of understanding. A childhood proposal, an offer from a friend...these were unserious and I would not have bound her to either and did in fact defend her to the neighbourhood when remarks were later made in jest of her fickleness. It is her refusal of Mr Collins—an unpleasant man who is, unfortunately, my heir—that rankles my wife, and of Mr Nugent, which led us to such an ultimatum. Happiness in marriage is secondary to security."

"Marriage to me will provide both to your daughter, as you will see from the settlements. I trust we have your blessing."

Mr Bennet nodded. "You say Elizabeth proposed to you as well?"

"She has suffered so many proposals, she felt it time for her to make her own." Darcy grinned. Mr Bennet may have forgot his daughter's sense of joyful mischief, but she was his now to treasure. When a giant cheer sounded from the drawing room, he rose. "We must make our goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Bingley. I will have the settlement papers drawn up and bring them to you next week."

Half an hour later—Bingley was prone to long farewells, even with a radiant bride awaiting him—Darcy asked Elizabeth to walk with him.

She led him towards some wildly fragrant lilac bushes, where, concealed from the rest of the celebrants, he took her hand and told her they had her father's blessing.

"And yet you appear displeased."

"I mean no disrespect to your father, but I cannot like his words. He belittles your value and the importance of happiness in marriage almost as badly as does Mr Collins. He manages his estate as indifferently as he does his paternal role, yet has called you ‘a ridiculous creature'? Fitzwilliam Darcy would never fall in love with a ridiculous creature. He has loved but one lady, and she is the most singular of her sex: beautiful and clever, generous and mischievous. "

"A gentleman who speaks of himself in the third person only underlines the regard with which my father must revere he who claims the title ‘master of Pemberley'." She laughed, but Darcy heard the hollowness of it. He lifted her chin and bent his head to hers.

"No man, whether or not he is a gentleman, should disparage a lady, and certainly not one under his care. Months ago, when the gods of rain brought us together, you rightfully accused me of pomposity and rudeness and told me of the terrible offence I had given to you. ‘Tolerable.' In spite of the admiration I already felt for you, it was I who was in tolerable."

"You have already apologised for the insult, and explained the reasons for your terrible mood that evening." She smiled. "And I am a ridiculous creature. I declined proposals because those who offered their hands were too young, too odd, or too ridiculous themselves. But poor Charlotte, who watched and heard me laugh about them, was waiting for just one proposal. Any proposal."

"She accepted the man you twice refused." He gave her a look of undisguised tenderness before kissing her temple. "Bless your strength, wilfulness, and discernment."

"You know," she tilted her head to one side, a look of wonder in her expression, "I have never been courted. Mr Goulding and Mr Lucas were mere boys of course and Mr Collins' small compliments were sickening. Mr Nugent apparently thought the praise and delight he bestowed so liberally and his references to how much I resembled his mother in my wit and wisdom were perhaps his own vision of courting but they only served as warning to me."

"Your acceptance of my hand does not relieve me of the burden of courting you. In fact, I am compelled to court you, to overtake any and all memories of the horrid suitors you have suffered."

"I would enjoy that. If you require any assistance, I have on good authority that Mr Hurst is full of intelligence on wooing a woman. Apparently, he is quite charming," she insisted to Darcy's amused look. "My favourite bit of advice, which Mr Nugent told me worked well on Mrs Hurst, is ‘You may fascinate a woman by giving her a piece of cheese'."

"What? Is she a mouse, so fascinated by a bit of Stilton?"

"Her sister would prefer jewels, but some women are easily pleased."

"You are not." Darcy laughed. "You truly have been beset by the most charming suitors. I promise I will not tempt you with cheese, or wine, or gold, nor charm you with pretty words, for I lack such facility."

A moment later, so quickly he thought he imagined it, her finger brushed his hand. "I disagree. Your words are very pretty."