The Journey (35 page)

“Darcy!” Mr. Bingley cried, rising from his seat, “and Miss Elizabeth, how delightful! Do come in and join us. We have just finished our soup.”

There was a general uproar of surprise among our friends and family. Each of the gentlemen rose to acknowledge my presence, Mrs. Hurst urged us to sit down, and Caroline Bingley remained speechless.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hurst, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy replied, although he made no effort to sit or to allow me to do so. Instead, we advanced into the room and stood near the end of the table. He had tucked my hand inside his arm before we entered the room, and he kept his hand placed over mine, making certain I did not leave his side.

“Lizzy,” my mother said, “I thought you unwell. Why are you here and with Mr. Darcy?”

“If you will allow me to explain, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said. “I beg your leave for interrupting the meal, Mrs. Hurst, and I ask the gentlemen to be seated. I fear that what I am about to say may take some time. I must impose upon Mr. Bennet concerning a matter of grave importance.”

“Importance?” Mamá cried. “More important than my daughter’s betrothal dinner? I think not!”

“I pray you will forgive me, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy replied, “but when you hear my tale, I think you may find it takes precedence.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood next to Georgiana’s chair, began to frown. “Has something happened, Darcy? Do you require my services? Come man, out with it.” Others at the table began to murmur similar remarks.

My father held up his hand. “Let us give the gentleman a chance to speak. Shall you and I excuse ourselves, Mr. Darcy?”

“If it is all the same, sir, I prefer to speak before all of you.” Mr. Darcy turned and looked at me as though he were asking for my assent. I still did not know what he proposed to do, but I smiled up at him.

“Very well,” my father said and motioned for the gentlemen to take their seats. Everyone had ceased eating, of course, but when they seated themselves, no one picked up their spoons again except for Mr. Hurst who continued on, seemingly unaware there was anyone or anything in the room more interesting than his soup.

“Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, “some weeks ago I asked for your daughter Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, did I not?” My father answered in the affirmative, and I heard a faint groan emanate from that portion of the table where Miss Bingley sat.

“At the time, I related the fact that due to no fault of her own, she had been forced to spend three nights locked in the same room with me, an occurrence that mandated we marry. Alas, Elizabeth refused to accept my offer.”

“She did,” my mother cried, “oh, she did! The ungrateful, uncaring girl! I have chastised her daily since then, Mr. Darcy. Daily, I tell you!”

“Very wise, ma’am,” he replied. I could sense his amusement. “Since her refusal, Elizabeth as well as your family, has endured scorn and public humiliation. Any sensible girl would retract her refusal, especially when I was obliging enough to offer her time to consider it, but the second time I asked for her hand, once again she told me no.”

“Oh,” my mother cried, “twice? You asked twice? Lizzy, how could you!”

“Mamá,” I murmured, beseeching Jane with a frantic look so that she attempted to calm her.

“Shocking, I agree, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said, and I closed my eyes.
What was he doing?

My uncle came to my rescue then. “Mr. Darcy, I fail to see what good it does to bring up all this?”

“If you will permit me, sir, I shall make it evident. The last time I asked for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, I confess I spoke rashly. I told her I would not renew my addresses again.”

“Oh, thank God,” Caroline said, reaching for her wine glass.

“Sir, is there a point to all of this?” my father asked.

“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is my painful duty to tell you that tonight Elizabeth arrived on my doorstep uninvited, having travelled in a hired cab, alone but for two of Mr. Gardiner’s good servants.”

A sudden collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the room. “I fear there is more. Your daughter and I spent a good three-quarters of an hour or longer alone behind closed doors in my library. For verification, you may consult Mr. Gardiner’s servants, who presently wait in the hall.”

My father rose once more, his brows knit together in a scowl. “Is this true, Lizzy?”

I looked away at first but then held my chin up and agreed. Mr. Darcy looked down at me, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his performance.

“But why?” my father asked. “What on earth would be of such importance that you would engage in such behaviour and put yourself at risk?”

I pressed my lips together, wondering how I might word my reason prudently. “Papá, a misunderstanding had arisen between the gentleman and me that warranted immediate attention.”

“What type of misunderstanding?”

“One due entirely, I am afraid, to my ignorance,” Mr. Darcy interjected. “I feared that because of her refusal of my offer, Elizabeth did not care for me, but I was mistaken, you see. Tonight, behind the closed doors of my library, she confessed that I am indeed the fortunate man she loves after all, in spite of my numerous faults.”

He turned to face me, took both my hands in his, and slowly shook his head while gazing into my eyes. “Mr. Bennet, if Elizabeth were my daughter — and I am eternally grateful she is not — I would instruct my child that she may not call upon a gentleman alone at night, confess her love for him, and not expect to pay the consequences. I would then demand that the man in question agree to marriage, and I would insist that my daughter marry him! I think every honourable man in this room would stand behind you in that decision. Do you not agree, sir?”

I held my breath, shocked at his audacity, at how cleverly he had kept his word not to ask for my hand in marriage. The entire inhabitants of the room seemed to hold their breaths also, silent, save for the sounds of Mr. Hurst continuing to slurp the last remnants of his soup, his spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl.

I glanced at the table. Jane appeared shocked, Mr. Bingley somewhat nervous, a faint smile played around my aunt’s eyes, and my mother seemed dumbfounded, blinking as though she could not make sense of it until, all of a sudden, she recovered and cried aloud, “Yes! Yes, Mr. Bennet, that is exactly what you must do! You must
make
Lizzy marry Mr. Darcy!”

My uncle rose from his chair. “I agree, sir. As Elizabeth’s kinsman, I assert my right to make certain you do the proper thing, Mr. Darcy.”

“And,” Mr. Bingley said, also standing, “as — as her future brother, I add my voice in support as well.”

“Representing my father, the Earl of Matlock, and Darcy’s family,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he stood erect and did his utmost to keep a straight face, “I feel it my duty, Cousin, to demand that you act in an honourable manner.”

Every man at the table had now pledged their agreement except one. Mrs. Hurst attempted to catch her husband’s attention. “Psst, Ambrose! Ambrose!”

“What?” he asked, raising his head slightly from his bowl.

“Say something!” she hissed.

“Humph?” he grumbled and slapped his spoon down on the table. “Yes, right! Bring on the next course!”

By that time a droll expression covered my father’s countenance. He cleared his throat and folded his hands together. “Well, Lizzy?” he said, raising his eyebrows as if to ask whether I agreed.

When I nodded vigorously, no longer able to restrain the smile breaking forth upon my face, he said, “Then you leave me little choice. I see before me an unhappy task. For once, I must be in perfect agreement with your mother. Daughter, I insist that you marry Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, Father,” I said.

“No!” Caroline cried, but her sister must have kicked her under the table, for she said no more, and a joyous uproar commenced throughout the entire room that drowned out her dissent.

As each person rushed upon us and offered their best wishes, hugged me or kissed my cheek, and shook Mr. Darcy’s hand, I stole a glance upwards at his handsome face. It was bathed in smiles, his dimples winking in abundance. He beamed down upon me in return, full of the best kind of pride and tender regard.

After much ado, we were led to the table and placed side by side. Fresh wine was poured, and numerous toasts were offered in our honour. At last we all applied ourselves to the remainder of the feast. Mr. Darcy and I skipped the soup, for Mr. Hurst had eaten our portions, and proceeded to the next course.

We both ate with unusual appetite. For some reason, we suddenly found ourselves beset with ferocious hunger.

After dinner the ladies and I heard a great deal of laughter filter down the hall from the library where the gentlemen enjoyed their brandy and cigars. Jane and I blushed at Mamá’s pointed remarks that talk of our upcoming marriages would most likely prove to be the topic of the men’s conversation.

Mrs. Hurst, surprisingly, put on her most agreeable expression and actually played the part of gracious hostess quite well. She congratulated me and said she looked forward to a long association between our families now that the Hursts and Darcys would be almost related. She spoke of Pemberley’s charms with great enthusiasm, and I could see that she hoped to continue to be invited as a guest once I became mistress of the great estate.

Even the impetus of continued invitations, however, did not provoke a similar response from her sister. Miss Bingley remained sullen and uncommunicative, tucked away in a corner chair with a glass of sherry that I noticed she refilled often enough.

“Miss Bennet?” I heard a soft voice and turned to find Miss Darcy at my side. “I am very pleased that you have accepted my brother. I have never seen him so happy.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you shall be content leaving your sisters and joining yourself to such a small family.”

“But I look forward to our acquaintance as sisters. Pray, call me Elizabeth.”

She smiled shyly. “And you must say Georgiana when speaking to me.”

“I shall, I shall,” I said with great enthusiasm.

Not long afterwards, the gentlemen joined us. Mr. Darcy strode to my side, a gleam in his eye. Mrs. Hurst prevailed upon Georgiana to play the pianoforte. She did her utmost to avoid Mary’s attempts to gain her attention. I smiled across the room at Jane. If our sister did succeed in making her way to the instrument, I felt certain not even Mary’s pitiful performance could ruin the evening.

At the end of the gathering, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley escorted Jane and me to our father’s carriage to join Mary and Kitty for the ride home. How thrilling it was to allow Mr. Darcy to kiss my hand before others who now acknowledged it as his right.

“I shall call first thing tomorrow if that is acceptable,” he murmured.

“Of course.” I smiled up at him.

“Until then,” he whispered, turned my hand over and kissed my palm, which sent shivers of delight running up my spine.

Did he know how that simple action caused me to grow weak? From the rakish look in his eye, I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. Two can play such games, I thought.

Purposefully, I parted my lips and ever so slowly began to bite my lower lip. I watched with satisfaction the effect it had on him. How skilfully he struggled to repress his emotions, the only clues being his sudden intake of air and consequent heaving chest.

“Good night, Fitzwilliam,” I whispered and climbed into the cab.

* * *

Our family’s return trip to Longbourn was once again postponed because of my engagement. Nothing would do but for us to stay until the next week so that Mamá could tote me to the warehouses to select silks and laces for my wedding gown and trousseau. She dared not leave such important decisions to me alone without her expert opinion. I protested that I still could not show my face in public without scorn, but Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy soon banished that excuse.

With much forethought and planning on the part of Mr. Darcy and much active cajoling on the part of Mr. Bingley, my mother was persuaded to consent to a double wedding for Jane and me and much earlier than my sister’s previously planned ceremony. At first, Mamá had been adamant that she could not plan a wedding in less than three months’ time, but after extensive praise of her abilities by both men and the added extravagance of their promises to secure special licences, Mamá agreed to a wedding ceremony to be held in the middle of February. She could not disregard the distinction of two daughters marrying by special licence.

As soon as my father approved the plans, which he was content to do, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley contacted the offices of the
London Gazette
and published our announcements forthwith. At last, I could read my uncle’s newspaper with alacrity and without misgiving.

The day the notices were printed, Jane and I walked in the park with our intendeds, accompanied by Kitty and Georgiana. A light snow had fallen that morning, just enough to coat the barren landscape, causing it to appear fresh and new.

My younger sister talked Georgiana into scraping enough snow together to fashion snowballs, and soon they began to pelt Mr. Bingley with them. He, in turn, retaliated in like manner while Jane stood by laughing.