Chapter 6

Six

August 17

As Darcy departed his lodgings at the inn at Meryton, he glanced at his pocket watch. It was still too early for a proper call, but his nervous energy would not allow for further delay. Today he would see Elizabeth for the first time since their fraught parting at a similar inn, as well as for the first time since her father had brokered their engagement. He had no idea what to expect from her and felt that his chances at either disgust or contentment were equally probable. The most optimistic part of him hoped for joy, but he was not such a simpleton as to anticipate it.

It was only a mile to Longbourn from the inn, so Darcy chose to walk with the hope that he could while away a bit more time and settle his anxiety. Mr Bennet had not extended an invitation to stay with his family, which was likely for the best; it would have been mightily difficult to maintain his composure round Elizabeth or his forbearance towards her father. Though he could not entirely fault Mr Bennet for forcing the engagement, it still rankled that they were left with no choice in the matter. What if she were made miserable by the match? Worse than a bride who simply did not care for him, he would be shackled to one who outright despised him. Darcy had already experienced more than enough of Elizabeth Bennet's contempt and did not know how he would bear it if he were forced to suffer it daily for the rest of his life.

Apart from his own misery, of greater import was Elizabeth's happiness. Darcy could not, as a gentleman and one who loved her deeply, be the instrument of her discontent. He had caused her enough grief between his thoughtless insults and reprehensible pride. He had meddled too much in the affairs of one sister, not enough in those of another, and injured Elizabeth's reputation with his careless desire to improve her opinion of him. It transpired that she was right to revile him all along.

Darcy shook his head and dispelled that wretched thought. There was no profit in berating himself thusly, especially before the matter was entirely settled. He would find an opportunity to take Elizabeth aside to gauge her preferences and, regardless of what her father said, do what was best for her. He might grant her and her sisters' dowries as reparation, or purchase the Bennet ladies a house to live in after Mr Bennet's decease. If their respectability was too damaged in Hertfordshire, he might move them to another county where Lydia's infamy could not follow them. There was surely a way to do so discreetly.

Firstly, however, he must speak to Elizabeth. If there were even the slightest chance that she retained some of that promising softness she had displayed in Derbyshire before they were ripped apart by circumstance, he would gladly lead her to the altar without delay. Everything hinged on whether or not she could now abide him as her husband.

Having prepared his speech, Darcy was as ready as he would ever be when he approached Longbourn. His determination faltered, however, when he espied movement through the garden gate.

Elizabeth.

There she was, as lovely as ever in a soft-rose gown and a straw bonnet, pacing back and forth before the wrought iron gate. She was surrounded by late summer blooms and the soft buzzing of insects, though she seemed to pay them no heed. Even from a distance, her movements suggested agitation; Darcy felt dread welling within him.

Though he had not made a sound, some innate sense must have informed Elizabeth of his presence and she turned to face him. Her expressive eyes were wide, but was it with surprise or apprehension? There was only one way to discover which, so Darcy tentatively approached.

He stopped just short of the garden gate, as did she. They left it between them as a barrier and stared at one another through the ornate wrought iron. It appeared that neither of them was certain of what to say.

"Miss Elizabeth?—"

"Mr Darcy?—"

As their words tumbled over one another's, both stopped speaking abruptly.

"Forgive me, what?—"

"I am sorry, sir?—"

After their second attempt to begin a conversation failed in a similar fashion, Elizabeth released a nervous laugh. With a wave of his hand, Darcy silently encouraged her to speak first.

Elizabeth nodded, inhaled deeply and said, "I have spoken to my father on your behalf, sir, but I have never seen him so unreasonable. I am sure I can work on him, but in the meantime let me apologise to you most profoundly. I know it is unforgivable, but he has done it for the sake of his family, which must be his excuse."

The disappointment Darcy felt at her speech could hardly be described, though he felt a crushing sensation within his breast. She did not wish to marry him after all, as he had rightly feared.

"There—" He was forced to stop and clear his throat before beginning again. "There is nothing to forgive. If your feelings on the matter are so strong, I shall join my voice to yours in urging your father to break our…our agreement. However, I am not sure it is possible without damaging your reputation."

Elizabeth's laugh sounded bitter to his ears. "My reputation was only just rescued from complete destruction thanks to your efforts. I have had it directly from my father how you found Lydia and forced Mr Wickham into an engagement, saving us all from the scorn of good society. I would not have your efforts rewarded by tying you forever to your most hated enemy, to say nothing of the scandal which is attached to Lydia's folly. It is too well known to cover up, even if she is married in the end."

"Think nothing of that!" he cried. "Were it not for my own mistaken pride, Wickham never could have swindled a young woman of character to love or confide in him. Had I not thought it beneath me to lay my private actions open to the world, your sister would not have been taken in by his charms."

"I believe you give Lydia too much credit, sir," Elizabeth scoffed, turning her head to hide her expression behind the brim of her bonnet. After a stuttering inhale, she faced him again, more composed but still visibly affected. "I should not speak so ill of her to just anyone, but I can be honest with you when I say that she has been all but waiting for the opportunity to make a spectacle of herself. Given the letter she left behind, I suspect she delighted in it. Mr Wickham might have afforded her the means and opportunity, but Lydia was as willing a victim as he could have found."

"Even so, she might have been better protected. Your father, I am sure, would not have allowed her to go to Brighton had he been given the proper warnings."

Elizabeth shook her lovely head and readjusted the blue shawl she wore as if beset by a sudden chill. "I tried to warn him myself that Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner would get her into trouble, but he would not listen. I assure you, I did not tell him of Miss Darcy's situation, but was as forceful as I could be even so."

The palpable silence which followed was filled with awkwardness and confusion. Darcy struggled to discern Elizabeth's true sentiments regarding their betrothal. Was she refusing him only because she supposed he did not wish to marry her? Or was she using her sister's infamy to cover her own aversion to him? Did she, or did she not, blame him for all that had transpired? He could not know for certain, and it was maddening!

When he could stand the confusion no more, Darcy blurted, "Elizabeth, you are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, or you cannot forgive me for the role I played in your sister's elopement, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever." He took a deep breath, and said more softly, "Indeed, I love you so well that I will release you from our betrothal and do my utmost to protect your good name if you ask it of me. I beg of you, however, not to let anyone else come between us—not your sister, not Wickham, not your father, or anybody else. I need you to answer for yourself alone: Will you marry me?"

Elizabeth stepped closer to the gate and wrapped her hand round one of the bars. Darcy approached likewise and, though his pulse beat erratically at his further boldness, placed his own hand atop hers.

She glanced at the spot where their hands mingled and a deep blush overspread her features. Softly, tentatively, she asked, "You are in earnest, then? You wish to marry me despite…despite everything?"

"More than I can possibly express, yes." If there was a tinge of desperation to his words, Darcy was in no position to feel ashamed of it. "I would endure far more to call you my wife."

Elizabeth stepped back, removing her hand from his keep. He again felt the sting of disappointed hopes, but this was banished when she reached for the latch, disengaged it and opened the gate wide. She was flushed and beaming as she said, "Then yes, I shall happily marry you, without any reservations."

With the final barrier between them removed, Darcy rushed through the arch and gathered Elizabeth into his arms. In the next instant, his mouth was upon hers in a fervent kiss—one which she returned with equal enthusiasm.