Chapter 19

Nineteen

‘Our business is completed, with the best possible outcome for your family.'

It was an ambiguous line, in Elizabeth's opinion, but it was all her father would share with her from Mr Darcy's express conveying that all ties to Mr Wickham had been resolved happily in favour of the man's utter disgrace. What was not resolved was Mr Darcy's return to Meryton; happy as she was for Jane and her family to be free of Mr Wickham, would the man responsible—the man she was certain she loved—come back to complete their own unfinished conversation? Much as she wished to know what had happened with Mr Wickham, it was Mr Darcy's presence, his warm strength, and his reassuring manner she longed for.

The idea that Mr Darcy formed such a large part of her happiness was one Elizabeth had endeavoured to disregard, yet after the moments they had last spent in one another's company, she felt nothing but anticipation to be near him again.

Although she knew of his disgust at the behaviour exhibited by Mr Wickham, and doubted he was the kind of man who gave his affections freely, just how Mr Darcy felt about her was unresolved. It was true he sought her company, but much of their conversation had centred on Jane's misadventure. Their opportunities to speak alone, and learn about each other, had been limited, and she had been anything but transparent in her growing attraction to him. Was there more beyond those few moments of intimacy, that last moment in his company when she thought he might kiss her? Or would he think her as green as her sister, too easily caught up in brief intrigue, too readily smitten by tall, handsome strangers? Had she misread the familiarity between them?

Eager for distraction from her troubled thoughts, Elizabeth was happy to accede to her father's request that she assist him in explaining to her mother and sisters the true characters of Jane's former intended and the gentleman he had so viciously impugned. Mrs Bennet shrieked when she learnt that the charming future son of whom she had boasted for the past month was in fact a penniless scoundrel, and she emitted the least polite exclamation Elizabeth had ever heard from her. She was delivered her salts only after Mr Bennet provided her with a full glass of his best brandy. To his evident regret, she was sprawled out on his book-room sofa within minutes, half-asleep and murmuring about Jane's need to secure Mr Bingley.

Mary bowed her head in prayer; Kitty and Lydia were as silly as was to be expected, effusively voicing their disbelief that a handsome, amiable man could practise such evil deception.

"I cannot believe Mr Wickham is all that is bad, and Mr Darcy all that is good!" exclaimed Lydia, her eyes round and brows lifted high. "Mr Wickham was so jolly and told such good stories, but Mr Darcy is dull and unpleasant. Lizzy," she said, looking at Elizabeth incredulously, "you occupied Mr Darcy and kept him away from Jane. He cannot be as Papa says—you hated him as much as we all did!"

Before Elizabeth could reply, Mr Bennet cleared his throat loudly. "Lizzy was the most perceptive of us all as to the characters of both men. We are fortunate to have made the acquaintance of Mr Darcy and for your sister to have earned his trust and listened to him. Lydia, you and your sisters would do well to follow her example. Lizzy is a fine judge of character." He winked at Elizabeth and rose from his chair, clearly reluctant to abandon his sanctuary to Mrs Bennet and her quiet snores, before hastening them all from the book-room.

Once in the corridor, Lydia and Kitty began arguing about the worth of a red coat in measuring a man's honour. Elizabeth was grateful for the distraction they provided, as it allowed Jane—who had remained silent—an additional reprieve as she accepted the full truth about Mr Wickham. Elizabeth clasped her hand and whispered, "As ‘a fine judge of character', I must tell you that Mr Bingley also has secured a spot on my list of good men."

Jane turned to her, her face remarkably clear of grief, and said quietly, "Your Mr Darcy is the best of men. I hope you love him as much as he clearly loves you."

The surprise Elizabeth felt at her sister's perception caused her cheeks to flush, prompting both Mary and Mrs Hill to pronounce her feverish and send her straight to her bed. There, Elizabeth tossed and turned half the night as she considered whether Mr Darcy knew her heart so well as Jane did.

The following morning, Mrs Bennet was fully recovered from her distress and worked quickly to ensure all in Meryton were made aware of Jane's sensible and well-timed decision to end her attachment to the now despised Mr Wickham. It was a lesson in duty and efficiency Elizabeth hoped would influence her father in the future. Mr Darcy would certainly admire it; she anticipated telling him of it—and of many other things—when he returned.

Two long days later, on a cool and clear evening, Elizabeth and her family joined much of the neighbourhood for a card party. Aunt Philips's reputation as an excellent hostess came from offering the best coffee to be found in Meryton. Had either Mr or Mrs Bennet been at all inclined towards a taste for coffee over tea, Elizabeth was certain her mother too would demand some of the fine beans in Uncle Gardiner's warehouse. But when something did not appeal to her, Mrs Bennet found it easy to economise—even if it meant her elder sister outshone her in that particular area.

"Everyone needs a jewel in their crown, and she has no children," she sniffed.

Elizabeth, at loose ends and increasingly despairing of Mr Darcy's whereabouts, employed herself pouring coffee for the eager crowd. She stood near the table with Mary, filling cups and watching the door, hoping rather desperately to see him enter. His friend had been of no help; since Mr Bingley's return to health, his sisters and poor Mr Hurst had fled to town, and, likely encouraged by some word from Mr Darcy, he had begun calling at Longbourn, seeking Jane's company and conversation. In his distraction, Mr Bingley could say only that he had left word for Mr Darcy of tonight's gathering and that ‘his rooms remain prepared'.

Jane's newfound felicity is altogether vexing to my own.

It was not long after the clock struck seven that Elizabeth saw him; he stood in the doorway, his expression composed but his eyes seemingly searching the company until he spotted her. Smiling nervously, she watched as Mr Darcy began to cross the room towards her.

A murmur of voices made her aware others had seen him, although their pleasure was far less than her own. Exasperated that he remained disliked by people who now understood the truth about Mr Wickham, she resolved to demonstrate that the Bennets considered Mr Darcy a friend. Quickly preparing a cup of coffee, she stepped towards him.

"Miss Mary. Miss Elizabeth." He glanced at Mary but smiled at her and, looking a bit surprised, took the cup she offered.

"A bit of cream, no sugar?"

"You are aware of my preferences." His eyes were alight with warmth.

"Of course." Although she said it lightly, her cheeks burned with the pleasure of knowing his partialities, and displaying to him that she did.

He took a sip. "This is quite good. I thank you."

They regarded each other in what she hoped was mutual fondness. She knew more than how he took his coffee; she knew his expressions—the lift of a brow, the turn of his lips, the way he rubbed his chin when deep in thought. These minor alterations of an otherwise reserved countenance— she could read them. Could he read her expression, which she was certain now mirrored his?

It mattered little, as a moment later, Mary made herself known and explained in detail the origin of the coffee. Elizabeth noticed a faint trace of something like admiration on Mr Darcy's face before he spoke.

"As much credit as is due Miss Elizabeth for preparing this cup to my liking, if the excellence of this coffee is an example of your uncle's acumen in business, I should like to meet him and view his warehouses."

The length and sincerity of the compliment was astonishing and was something Elizabeth felt should stay between the three of them lest her mother and aunt argue over who best deserved it. But coffee was not what she wished to discuss, and in a room full of excessively interested neighbours, they could not broach the significant matters which lay between them.

How vexing it was to be trapped—again—in a crowded room and unable to speak!

"Lizzy, you must be quite heated from pouring so many cups." Mary gave her a scolding look. "Indeed, your cheeks are quite red. There is a bench on the terrace behind that large potted plant, if you care to step out of doors." Mary took Mr Darcy's empty cup and moved away to the far end of the table, leaving Elizabeth astonished. Her nerves thrumming, she glanced at Mr Darcy, who appeared delighted with Mary's suggestion and offered to escort her. His eager gaze made clear his intention to remain with her there.

Mr Darcy squeezed past two grey-haired gentlemen arguing about a long-ago cricket game and joined her at the end of the table. He gestured over to where Jane and Mr Bingley sat, their heads bent together. "Your sister appears well."

"Very well, thank you. Jane pities Mr Wickham and especially his poor wife. She can take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, while seeing nothing of the bad."

"In that she is much like Bingley. He is a good man, who wishes to see the worth in others." Mr Darcy hesitated, then in a low voice said, "He is sincere in his feelings for your sister. While his eye has been captured once or twice previously, his heart was not touched until now. Miss Bennet has firmly bewitched my friend."

"I am glad, but he will have to be patient. Jane has learnt a hard lesson, and even though her heart may be resolute, caution will guide her head."

Elizabeth smiled and earned his in return as he steered her through the glass doors and to the bench, hidden, as Mary had said, behind a potted plant inside the house and an overhanging tree branch outside. She was disappointed when Mr Darcy did not sit beside her but rather leant against the terrace wall. Despite the full moon, she could scarce make out his features.

"I am relieved your travels were safe," she said.

"I was fortunate with the moonlight and other carriages on the road. I am glad to return to Meryton. My business was completed with great success."

"All troublesome matters attended to?"

"Indeed. Fully disposed of. I do not anticipate any further problems."

Despite the grave subject, Elizabeth could hear a lightness in his voice. That he could tease about what must have been difficult and unpleasant made her unbearably happy. She rose to stand beside him, seeing his face more clearly in the moonlight. "I wish to hear it all."

"I expect you do, although the story is as unpleasant as its antagonist. At present, I prefer to discuss a more pressing matter."

Her eyebrows rose, and his quiet chuckle almost sounded nervous, strengthening her hope that he shared her feelings. "I was anxious to return and see you," he said in a voice so soft she trembled. "We did not have a chance to make our farewells then, but Miss Mary is making amends for her untimely interruption."

His hand, hanging by his side only inches from hers, moved closer. When his fingers brushed hers, she nearly grabbed them.

"She is. My family is grateful for the kindness you showed, the help you gave to us. Mary, in particular, admires you a great deal."

"Ah." His lips quirked. "Another estimable sister."

"I should not make you go through the full list, but all of my sisters have their merits and defects—some more pronounced than others."

"Not you," he said in a voice as tender as his expression. "I have seen no deficiencies in your character or appearance."

Elizabeth's breath caught as his fingers closed around hers and he leant closer. "Miss Bennet is beautiful, as Bingley apprised me of when I first came to Meryton. However, she is not the sister who caught my attention."

Although unused to such compliments, Elizabeth was no longer wary of Mr Darcy's sincerity. Still, she could not keep from teasing him. "It was Lydia, with the cream cake, who truly drew your eye."

"The fate of that cream cake was the most exhilarating event that had yet occurred at Netherfield."

"Merely an everyday occurrence at Longbourn."

He laughed, and she decided it was her favourite sound in the world. Then he spoke in a low, urgent voice that quickly overtook her mirth.

"Elizabeth, you know— you must know —I think you are the most beautiful of your sisters, and the handsomest woman of my acquaintance. More than that, it is your warm heart and clever mind that draw me to you."

If his words had not already overpowered her, the tenderness of his voice and the warmth of his presence so near to hers made Elizabeth almost insensible. She lifted a hand to his chest, needing the feel of silk and wool and him , to feel grounded. His earnest gaze undid her.

"I, who have disdained the charms and easy compliments of other men, fall happily prey to yours," she whispered.

The joy her words gave him showed in his eyes. His smile was one Elizabeth would have called shy had she not grown to understand him—he was a careful man and ever considerate of her feelings. He could be trusted, on even this short acquaintance, with her heart.

"That is because my praise and compliments are all true," he said, kissing her fingers.

A clattering sound followed by a loud burst of laughter drew their glances towards the open terrace door. When Elizabeth shrugged, he pulled her closer.

"You have proved yourself an honest man," she said, blushing and feeling as though she might burst with joy, and not a little embarrassment.

"Always," he murmured. "And a man worthy of you, I hope."

When her gasp turned to a smile, he pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was brief and chaste, but she felt true affection within it. She hoped he felt hers as well.