Chapter 9

9

D arcy stood in front of the mirror at Darcy House as his valet hurried around him, straightening his jacket, adjusting his cravat. He wanted to look his best tonight.

The last three weeks had been wonderful. He and Elizabeth had spent nearly every day in close company — along with Bingley and Miss Bennet. But he was not prepared to wait much longer. The torment had been exquisite. But torment it had been, and last night he had wondered if Elizabeth might feel the same.

She, of course, being a lady, could never say anything, but must wait for him to broach the subject. Although she was a strong personality in her own right; perhaps the fact that she had not hinted at her readiness meant that she would not yet wish him to speak?

He shuddered; this was the most important thing in his life, and he was abominably afraid of ruining it all. Now he had hope again, he could not bear it to be cruelly snatched away.

He had just nodded at Maunder that he was ready, when there was a knock at the door. "Enter!"

The butler opened the door. "I apologise for disturbing you, sir. Lady Catherine de Bourgh has called and insists she cannot wait."

Darcy sighed, his aunt must have seen the write up in the papers that he had been seen in company with Elizabeth at the theatre, and around the galleries and museums of town. And Lady Catherine was never prepared to wait.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones. I will come down now. I will not offer her any refreshment, so please ensure the housekeeper does not bring any in."

The butler's eyes bulged. "Yes, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy grinned as he remembered the man's shock as he hurried down the stairs and turned into the drawing room. It was time he finally ensured his aunt understood that he would never change his mind.

He dipped his head at his aunt as he entered. "I was not expecting you, Aunt, and I am due to leave in five minutes, so you had better say what you came here for." He crossed his arms and stood by the door.

He had seen her twice in the last fortnight. Being polite had not worked, now he must be rather ruder than was really comfortable. He smiled; Elizabeth would be proud of him.

"Well, nephew! Sit down then. We will wait for refreshments, then you will tell me how I can assist you to get rid of this upstart fortune hunter!"

"No, there will be no refreshments." Darcy glanced at the clock. "Three minutes remain until I leave."

Lady Catherine spluttered at him. "I have never been so offended in my life! Darcy, you cannot leave behind the honour of the Fitzwilliam family. Your mother would be shocked, and your father mortified at what you are doing."

"You are completely wrong, madam. And if you happened to be right, then it would not matter. I am my own master, you have nothing to say to me!"

She drew breath, and he smiled. Now he knew that he would stand firm, there was no way she could upset him.

Ten minutes later, he hurried down the steps towards his coach. Once fairly on the way, he finally relaxed into the seat. Five and twenty minutes, and he would be greeting Elizabeth. Beloved Elizabeth! His heart began to race.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, his aunt's shocked face appearing in his mind. As soon as the five minutes he had given her had passed; he had summoned the butler, along with five footmen.

"Lady Catherine is leaving this house now. She is not to be offered refreshments; she is not to be permitted to retire, as Matlock House is so close. Once she deigns to leave this chair, she is not permitted to sit on another, and she is not to be offered the hospitality of this house. Every step taken towards the door is not to be reversed, and once she leaves here, she is not to be readmitted." He had looked round at all of them. "Am I understood?"

Mr. Jones nodded. "Do I understand correctly that if Lady Catherine is still sitting here in two hours' time, we wait until she moves?"

"Correct." Darcy turned back to her.

"Goodbye. I will send a note to Matlock House to expect you shortly."

He smiled slowly; it was not unexpected, but he had wondered how he could ever bring himself to be so ill-mannered.

But of course, if it was to protect Elizabeth, then it would be done.

As the coach pulled up outside number twenty-three, Gracechurch Street, Darcy was ready to step down and hurry up the steps. Entering the drawing room, he bowed at the ladies and nodded at Bingley before turning to Mrs. Gardiner. "Good morning, madam. I am sorry that I am a little late."

Her eyes were almost as mischievous as Elizabeth's when she wanted to be.

"That is quite all right, Mr. Darcy. When our guest left here to go to Darcy House, we quite expected you to be later than you actually are. You must have been quite — firm with your aunt."

Darcy knew his face was shocked. "She came here?"

"Indeed. Do take a seat and Elizabeth can explain what happened while I see to a fresh tea tray."

"I am so sorry she imposed herself on you, Elizabeth. Are you well?" Darcy sat as close as he dared to Elizabeth, wanting nothing more than to reach for her hand.

Her gaze was astute. "I think she may have been ruder to you than she was even to me, when I turned down her kind and generous offer." Then her eyes danced. "I do hope you are not going to throw me over, sir, for if you were, then I ought to have accepted the four thousand pounds she offered me!"

"Four thousand pounds?" Darcy's voice broke, and he winced at the attention he drew to himself.

"Well, you know, it would have to be a considerable sum for any lady to throw away Pemberley and ten thousand a year." Her words ended in a sultry laugh, and Darcy's gut twisted.

"But is it enough to throw away a gentleman who is still attempting to prove himself worthy of winning you?" His pulse thundered in his throat. This was not how he had envisaged this morning.

Elizabeth leaned closer to him, her lavender scent drifting around him. He swallowed.

"Never," she whispered. "Nothing she could ever do or say would do that."

It was the sign he had wondered if he would ever get. He took her hand, oblivious of the others in the room, and kept his voice as low as he dared. "Might you do me the honour of permitting me to make the request for a private interview with you; dearest, dearest Elizabeth?"

"Yes." Another sultry whisper, and Darcy had to stop himself drawing closer to kiss her. He pressed her hand and rose to his feet.

A few minutes later, they were standing by the window in the little music room at the back of the house. It was as far away from the open door as they could be.

Darcy hardly knew what to say, but he was encouraged at her standing so close to him. He took both her hands in his.

"Dearest Elizabeth. Thank you for agreeing to this private interview." He had to stop and take another breath — he was certainly making a hash of this. "I know I have officially only been calling upon you, and therefore the next step would be a formal courtship." He searched her expression. "If that is what you would agree to, dearest, then that is what I will request. But … I believe … do you think we may perhaps be beyond that?"

He dropped to one knee. He could not remember the words he had spoken so often in his dreams; so he must do the best he could. "I love you, Elizabeth. I love you as I have never loved anyone before. I can imagine no other beside me all the days of my life and will do all in my power to make you the happiest of ladies and protect you from all troubles, if you will but agree to become my wife."

He pressed his lips to her hands for a long, long moment, before raising his eyes to her face.