Chapter Thirty-One

D arcy left London within a few hours of speaking to Miss Elizabeth.

The days were longer now, and it was still light when he arrived at a local inn in Meryton some four hours later. The food was adequate and the room comfortable enough. In the morning, there was a small breakfast awaiting him in the private dining room. He asked for directions to Longbourn, paid the innkeeper generously, and took his leave.

The manor was about a mile and a half from the inn. As Darcy approached, he saw the house, modest in size compared to his own estate, built of quarry flint. There was a bit of wilderness on one side of the lawn and woods beyond. The roof appeared due for some work, and there were scattered weeds poking up through the gravel on the approach.

The butler asked for his card. Darcy handed it over but did not wait to be announced. Instead, he mimicked Fitz and followed the man to Mr. Bennet's study, entering even as the butler was announcing him.

A slight man with black hair streaked with grey was sitting in a comfortable armchair near a hearth, a book opened in his lap. Behind him was a desk with a large, leather-bound ledger lying open, a number of letters and papers strewn across it .

"Mr. Bennet."

The master addressed the butler. "That will be all, Mr. Hill."

Mr. Hill took a step backwards out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said, eyeing him laconically and neglecting to stand. "Perhaps you would like to explain who you are and why you have barged into my study without invitation?"

"I have come a long way and had no intention of being refused entry," Darcy replied succinctly.

Mr. Bennet's sigh was bone-rattlingly deep. "You had best have your say. Quickly, if you please."

"If that is your wish," Darcy said, and truly, he could not be more pleased to do so. "I come to inform you that I shall be marrying your daughter Elizabeth."

"It is good of you to ride all this way to let me know," the man replied sardonically. "Generally, a father is requested to bestow his daughter's hand."

"I am told you gave up that right to Lord Carlisle, and that is not why I am here."

"It seemed more expedient than having young lovers appear unannounced." Mr. Bennet arched an eyebrow in just the same way Miss Elizabeth sometimes did, but there was none of her charm in her father's gesture. "I see I was mistaken."

Darcy gazed down at the man. "I came to advise you that from this day forward, Elizabeth will receive no letters or visits from either you or your wife. If one day she decides to write to you, that is her prerogative, but you will not be permitted to abuse her again."

"Abuse her?" The man stood, walked to his desk and closed the ledger. "I have not even attempted to correspond with her or her sister since they left here. Lord Carlisle will write to me if there is anything of import to say."

"That in itself is a condemnation of your performance as her father, but it matters not." He tossed the letters Mrs. Bennet had written on the desk. "Your wife's letters. Read them."

Mr. Bennet sputtered, his face reddening with indignation, but Darcy was undeterred.

Eventually, Mr. Bennet picked up the letters and read them. He had the good grace to frown at the contents, but when he looked up, all he said was, "What would you have me do? I cannot control what my wife writes to her daughters."

He very well could, simply by reading what she wrote before it was sent. "I would have you do nothing other than explain to your wife that any letters that come from her or you will be refused at the door." He motioned at the paper. "These I decided to return personally."

"Too cheap to pay the post?" Mr. Bennet chuckled. "I wonder if Lizzy knows this side of her suitor."

"You could not be more wrong," Darcy said, shaking his head at this foolish man. To have Elizabeth as a daughter and to refuse to show her even the smallest sign of affection, to instead behave indifferently or even cruelly to her—it was beyond his comprehension.

"Had you deigned to show her even a fraction of the kindness and respect she deserves, you might have found yourselves the beneficiaries of my generosity." He nodded at the letter. "Your wife was quite wrong. I am a respectable man of considerable means, Mr. Bennet, and I have been known to share my largesse with those I hold dear. That extends to those my future wife holds dear. Unfortunately, that does not include her parents."

"So Lizzy withheld her funds, and now you withhold yours," Mr. Bennet replied, reaching for his abandoned book. "It makes no difference in our lives. Mrs. Bennet has been crowing over my Jane's intended. I suspect my eldest will be more amenable."

How could he be so wilfully obtuse? "It was Miss Bennet who asked that I read her sister's letter, and her own. I would not count on any material assistance from that quarter."

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I think I may safely say that I know my daughter better than you. Jane will not deny us."

"You believe that, if it gives you pleasure," Darcy said sarcastically. "You know my mind."

With a final, withering glare and the satisfaction of watching Mr. Bennet's complexion pale a little, Darcy turned on his heel and departed. He handed the stableboy a shilling for holding his horse and then swung up into the saddle.

He was glad he had decided to arrive quite early, for Mrs. Bennet had not yet been downstairs. It was better for her, because Darcy was still very, very angry. But her father, at least, had been put on notice: Elizabeth was not his to neglect or misuse any longer. That was the reason Darcy had come, and he reminded himself that it was all he could expect. It felt better, it felt right, to protect Elizabeth—even from her own parents. He guided his horse away from the house and was soon on the road back to London.

Mr. Darcy had promised to visit today, and so Elizabeth sat in the drawing room of Carlisle House, her ears attuned to every sound from the hall. It was too early yet, but she could not help but hope he would not keep her waiting much longer. She was wild with curiosity, for he had left her so abruptly the day he took their letters with him.

At the very minute that a call could be properly made, he was announced over the chiming of the mantle clock, and Elizabeth wondered whether he had been waiting outside so he would not be a moment later. She smiled to herself. It would be very like him.

Jane touched Elizabeth's arm, smiled, and stood, moving to sit next to Amelia and leaving Elizabeth alone on the settee.

Lady Carlisle asked her butler to show Mr. Darcy in, and suddenly, there he was, filling the doorway, tall, broad, handsome. He greeted them all and was invited inside.

He sat next to Elizabeth.

"Good day, Mr. Darcy."

"Good day, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you are well?"

"I am, sir. And you?"

To this commonplace he did not respond. "Miss Elizabeth," he said softly, "I returned from Longbourn yesterday."

Although she had considered that he might make the trip, given his statement upon leaving her, she had dismissed the notion as too fanciful to be true.

"Why?"

Mr. Darcy took her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I made it clear to your father that I will not stand for the way he has treated you. I informed him that neither he nor your mother are to bother you again and that they are not to presume upon you unless you have agreed to it beforehand."

Elizabeth sat silently for a time. Her plan had been not to write, to allow her parents to come to this conclusion gradually, and she did not believe her mother would take such forceful direction well. There would be more letters. But to have such a champion? It was worth a hundred letters from Mamma, for indeed, she need not read any of them .

He appeared concerned when she did not immediately respond and addressed Jane while he waited. "I am afraid that my visit may only mean that you will be receiving more correspondence from your parents, Miss Bennet."

"That is quite all right, Mr. Darcy," Jane said sweetly. "Mr. Bingley and Lord Carlisle have already agreed that any post from Longbourn will not be accepted. My sisters may correspond with me through my uncle and aunt here in town if they are of a mind to do so."

Elizabeth nodded. "And me, though I suspect they will each of them write to Jane first."

Mr. Darcy still held her hand and he glanced at her guiltily. "I felt a strong response was warranted, but your father was unmoved. He is counting on your sister to help them."

"He will have to manage his disappointment," Jane replied. "For I shall have my own family to think of."

"You went to Longbourn." Elizabeth could not tell how this made her feel, precisely, though she knew she liked that he had done it.

He nodded seriously. "I did. I could not bear to see you so hurt. Not again. I beg of you, what else would you have me do?"

Her laugh was teary. "I am not angry, Mr. Darcy. I am grateful to have someone in my life who would protect me so vigorously. It is a four-hour ride to Longbourn. You must have been on a horse all day yesterday."

Mr. Darcy chuckled self-consciously. "I left not long after I met you here. The inn in Meryton was reasonably comfortable, and it allowed me to visit with your father early in the morning."

Her heart pounded wildly. He had left London the same day? Borne the discomforts of an unfamiliar inn all so that he might defend her more expeditiously? "Before my mother and sisters were awake," Elizabeth said knowingly. "Well done, sir. "

"I will require your forgiveness one more time, however." Mr. Darcy's expression was not guilty now—it was boyish and mischievous.

"And why is that, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth inquired.

"I told your father I was going to marry you before I asked you whether you will have me." He glanced over at Lady Carlisle, and bless her, the woman stood, cast a meaningful glance at first Amelia, then Jane, and swept out of the room. Amelia's smile was a broad one, Jane's more demure, but they said nothing, merely followed in Lady Carlisle's wake.

"My goodness, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, impressed. "You do know how to clear a room."

Mr. Darcy smiled and lifted her hand to his lips.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, for the sensation was exquisite.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice low, fervent. "My feelings for you are not merely those of a friend. They are beyond mere admiration. I love you most ardently. When my mistake caused you to suffer so grievously—"

"There was far more to my suffering than your mistake, sir."

He kissed her hand again. "Allow me to finish? I am sure you will like it."

She laughed gently. "Proceed, then."

"Please know that I will do anything in my power to ensure your happiness. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, that I have not always been the man you deserve. But I am here now, ready to stand by your side, to be your partner in all things. Miss Elizabeth, do you love me?"

Elizabeth gazed up into his eyes. "I do."

"Do you trust me?"

She sniffled. "I do."

"Then will you do me the extraordinary honour of becoming my wife?"

Elizabeth blinked back the tears—she did not wish for Mr. Darcy to think her a watering pot. He instinctively reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, but instead of handing it to her, he dabbed at her cheeks himself. Apparently, she had not been able to keep all of her tears from falling.

"I do hope these are happy tears," he murmured.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy," she whispered, her voice trembling with love for him. "They are happy tears, and I will marry you. There is nothing I desire more than to be your wife."

Mr. Darcy's breaths came a little faster and he leaned down, his lips hovering impossibly close to her own. "May I kiss you?" he whispered.

"Please do," she said, and his lips were on hers, soft, chaste, yet sending a current of electricity through her like the one in the arc lamp.

When he pulled back, he placed another kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Miss Elizabeth."

She laughed breathlessly. "I think you may safely call me Elizabeth now."

"I would be very happy to have that honour."

"And may I call you by your Christian name, sir?"

"It is Fitzwilliam."

"Like your cousin?"

"Yes. Which is why Darcy may be easier."

"No, Fitzwilliam suits you. I shall continue to call your cousin Colonel, and all will be clear."

He smiled and kissed her once more. "Elizabeth."

She swallowed, for his touch was a bit overwhelming—in a thrilling way.

"Shall I go to Lord Carlisle, dearest?"

She nodded.

"And forgive me yet again, Elizabeth, but when shall we be married? I would not like to wait too long."

"I certainly do not require a trousseau," she replied with a little laugh. "Any time after the banns are called would be amenable to me. I only ask that we be wed here in town and not from Longbourn. "

His breath was warm in her ear. "I presumed as much. Very well, my dear."

He stood, gazed at her as though he hated to be parted even for a moment, then nodded once and left to speak with Lord Carlisle.

A moment later, Lady Carlisle entered the room, Amelia to one side of her and Jane the other. Jane rushed to her and took both of her hands. "Did he ask you, Lizzy?"

She nodded. "We are to be wed, Jane. Can you believe it?"

Jane embraced her tightly. "Of course I can. The only question was what was taking you so long."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You know very well why. I am a stubborn creature."

"Indeed, Mr. Darcy shall have his hands full," Jane said and pulled back to look at her. "Mr. Bingley and I were waiting to set a date for our ceremony in the hopes that you two would join us. A double wedding, Lizzy—would you like it?"

So many people who loved her. It was an embarrassment of riches. "I would like it above all things, and if it means we marry sooner, Mr. Darcy will like it, too."

"Congratulations, Lizzy!" Amelia cried, nearly bouncing with glee. "I am so pleased for you!"

"Well done, Elizabeth," Lady Carlisle added with a warm smile. "I know that you and Mr. Darcy will be very happy together."

Elizabeth nodded. She trusted that they would.