Chapter 11

11

D arcy slouched in the comfortable chair in his library at Darcy House. He pondered Bingley who was nursing a large brandy in the chair opposite.

"May I ask you something, Bingley?"

His friend smiled affably. "Of course."

Darcy grinned wolfishly. "I don't know if you remember speaking to me, back at Netherfield, after we had returned to Longbourn?"

Bingley looked puzzled. "Perhaps you can remind me."

"You said that — if you had your way in courting Miss Bennet, then Miss Elizabeth would be your sister. And you asked me to stay away if I could not meet her expectations, given that I was expected to marry in the first circles."

Bingley's face cleared and he laughed. "So I did."

Darcy didn't give him a moment to expound further. "But now Miss Bennet is going to be my sister, and very soon. Are you going to meet her expectations?" He smiled again, to remove any sting Bingley might feel if he did not realise he was teasing him. His levity was new.

Bingley was staring at him. "I hardly recognise you, old chap. Love suits you if you can now play jokes on me." He smiled, a trifle anxiously. "I want nothing more than to secure Miss Bennet as soon as I may. But I have been constrained by the fact that I abandoned her so cruelly last November. She has been kindness itself to allow me to court her — do you think it has been long enough to convince her that I can be constant?"

Darcy became serious. "I cannot tell, Bingley. And I am very conscious that I was in error last time, when I, so dreadfully, tried to order your life. But you will never know unless you ask Miss Bennet. She is not the sort of lady who will open her heart until she knows yours."

Bingley looked determined. "I will ask her, perhaps, if she is happy to continue with the courtship, or if she feels she has discovered enough about me for me to be able to ask her …" he looked up, his face suddenly anguished. "But what if she says she knows enough to know we are not suited, Darcy? I could not bear it if she sent me away."

Darcy shook his head. "It is what I was afraid of. I was fortunate that Miss Elizabeth gave me a hint, and I realised it was then or never." He drew a deep breath. "You will never know without asking, and I have not had any intimations from Miss Elizabeth that her sister has tired of your company." He drew his hand across his mouth.

"You might perhaps ask her if there is any further way during your courtship that she wishes you to prove your constancy. From her answer, you may get some intimation of her state of mind."

Bingley leaned forward. "That is a wonderful idea, Darcy! I thank you, and charge you with ensuring we have some time of privacy tomorrow so I may speak to her."

It seemed a long time since Elizabeth had agreed to marry him, but in truth, it had not been so many weeks. They had been filled with activity, Bennet's consent sought, settlement arranged, a trousseau for Elizabeth, new gowns for the other ladies — Darcy had speeded that part up by sending a modiste and seamstress to Longbourn and thus silenced any dissent in that area.

Netherfield was familiar and comfortable. His friend had asked an elderly aunt to be his hostess, and she was a great deal more agreeable than Miss Bingley.

But they had been able to host the ladies here, these last few days before, finally, Elizabeth would be his bride.

Her sister had asked Bingley to continue courting her for at least three months, but she had indicated that she would listen with pleasure to anything he said after that, so Bingley was tolerably cheerful about it all.

And now the day had dawned. Today, he would take Elizabeth as his wife.

Darcy had ridden out early, and returned to find his bath waiting, and his valet beside his new suit and shirt laid out on the bed.

As he leaned his head against the chair back, Darcy tried to keep his expression still while Maunder shaved him. It was important to look his best for Elizabeth. Everything must be perfect for her today — and always.

He thought through the next few weeks in his mind. The ceremony. The wedding breakfast at Longbourn. A short wedding trip to Cornwall, because Elizabeth had never seen the sea. Then, at last, he could take his bride to Pemberley. Home. It would be the proudest day of his life.

He was standing before the altar, looking down the aisle, as Elizabeth moved towards him on the arm of her father. Her elder sister was behind her; the reason Darcy had chosen Bingley as his groomsman rather than his cousin. But he had no time to spare before his gaze settled on Elizabeth's luminous beauty, her gaze on him and her smile for him alone. He must not wish this day away — after all, it could never be repeated — but he wanted to be alone with Elizabeth, driving away and knowing they would be uninterrupted and undisturbed for several weeks.