Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A fter meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth had not truly expected Mr Darcy to race directly to Longbourn. Nevertheless, she felt something like relief when he appeared on her doorstep within two hours of her departure from Netherfield.

“But where is Mr Bingley?” Mrs Bennet cried, looking none too pleased at his arrival, and Elizabeth saw that Jane had trouble hiding her disappointment.

“Mr Bingley has some business in town to prepare for,” Mr Darcy explained. Thereafter, he engaged in some stilted conversation with her mother and sisters, made more awkward by Mr Collins’s wide-eyed interest in commandeering it. Finally, Mr Darcy turned directly to her. “Miss Elizabeth, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company?”

Mrs Bennet started, peering at him suddenly with sharpening calculation. Elizabeth did her best to appear surprised by the invitation. Somewhat to her wonder, her mama did not seem overjoyed. “I suppose you must go, my dear.” Mrs Bennet sighed. “Take Kitty with you.”

“Mama! I was going to walk into Meryton with Lydia!” Kitty protested.

“Do not ask me to go,” Mary put in. “I need to practise still.”

“I would be happy to turn your pages, Miss Mary,” Mr Collins said. “Such lovely music as emerges from your fingertips!”

“I cannot go if Kitty does not!” Lydia complained. “Mr Simmons is to receive a new shipment, and all the best colours will be gone if I do not acquire ribbons today!”

“Never mind, Mama,” Elizabeth interrupted, blushing, before they descended into a row. “We shall stay in sight of the house. No one need accompany us. I think Mr Darcy would enjoy seeing the hermitage.”

A few minutes later, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth walked alone together in the mercifully quiet garden.

“I apologise,” she said, feeling embarrassed at the complete lack of enthusiasm for his company displayed by her mother and sisters. He had not been particularly friendly as far as they knew, but good manners, for once, would have been appreciated. “My sisters formed their plans earlier today, and are too fond of having their own way.”

“It does not signify,” he said kindly. For several moments, they simply strolled, arm in arm. She wanted to ask him if he wished to be taken to Mr Bennet to discuss their marriage, but it seemed awkward, somehow, for her to be the one to bring up the subject. However, his next words brought a flicker of concern.

“I have learnt some unfortunate news,” he said stiffly.

Your cousin has demanded you to delay our marriage. Miss Bingley’s words about a private betrothal to a cousin in Kent repeated themselves in her brain. Aloud, she said, “Oh?” in what she hoped was a tone of polite interest, and tried to prepare herself for disappointment.

“I spoke with John Stevens before I left for Longbourn. He insists that we shall have relentless, unremitting rain from this afternoon, for the remainder of the week, and onwards through Sunday, at least. I wanted to spend the rest of the morning with you. I am concerned about accomplishing all that I wish, and returning in time, however, if the rain turns the roads to sludge, requiring of me a day or more to get to town instead of a few hours.”

“You…you wish to leave immediately for London instead?” she asked, relieved at his reasoning. But why was he so formal?

“I think it would be best.”

Should I broach the topic of his Kentish cousin? “Do you wish to delay announcing anything? Should we wait until your return to make any plans?”

“No!” he said fervently, and glancing around, pulled her off the path to a spot where they were definitely not in sight of the house. “Darling,” he said, and his mouth was upon hers. She felt the rightness of his passion, his longing—and let him feel her own. When the intensity of his affection was at least slightly allayed, she sighed .

“I could see your cousin’s displeasure in your choice of bride,” she said, hoping he would deny it.

He did not.

“Fitzwilliam will come round. It is only that he does not know you yet. He will stay here, at Netherfield, until my return with Georgiana. He will visit Longbourn, and you will become more comfortable with each other.”

It was a relief to know that the colonel was going nowhere, she could admit to herself. Still, if all his family had truly expected Mr Darcy to marry another, they might require a lengthy period of adjustment. “Perhaps we are hurrying into wedlock too quickly. If your family needs time?—”

“I need you ,” he interrupted swiftly. “I cannot fathom a wait of weeks or months to gain an acceptance I do not care about. They have no say in our lives, our decisions. I am my own man, and do not require anyone’s approval—least of all my cousin’s.”

“Surely a few weeks’ delay will make little difference,” Elizabeth offered, although she, too, did not want to wait.

He smoothed the hair away from her face, strands he had disordered in his passion. “I know I am impatient,” he said. “I have waited seven-and-twenty years to find you. Are my relations’ opinions your sole objection to marrying quickly? If so, please do not give it a thought. I respect my uncle, but I do not curry his favour, rely upon his income, or depend upon his advice. They respect me, and will respect my choice.”

Slowly, she nodded. It was not quite the only objection, but certainly the most important one. Having a betrothal period of weeks, or even a few months, while coming to know each other better was an ideal. However, she was willing to commit to the man she had come to believe so quickly as the best man of her acquaintance—and do so immediately. She did not want to create a maelstrom of discontent, especially in so renowned a family; she trusted Darcy, however. If he believed an immediate ceremony was for the best, she believed him.

“You know your family. I do not. I am willing to marry quickly if you are,” she said, and he kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly, until she required the tree at her back for support to keep her upright.

“I shall go with Bingley to town this morning, and I shall return next week—hopefully by Tuesday, but Wednesday at the latest. May I go now to speak to your father about marrying on Thursday?”

“He will be very surprised.” Elizabeth smiled, imagining it.

“I do not see why. He possesses the most beautiful daughter in the world—he ought to be accustomed to men beating down his door in hopes of receiving his approval.”

“We shall knock them all out of the way, and speed you to the front of the line,” she said, laughing, and he kissed her again.

Hand in hand, they made their way to Mr Bennet’s book room, where that gentleman was, indeed, about to be very surprised.