Part 3

Posted on: 2013-07-30

To see Elizabeth Bennet was now as painful a desire as ever Darcy had battled with. Though he had determined to see her within a few days of the ball, his mother, who had by no means given up her efforts to ensure his heart, had redirected him one day, waylaid him the next, and sent him to help his father the day after.

Lady Anne had chosen to shield her son by not confiding in his father about what she knew and suspected. For it was a matter far too sensitive for his short temper. But this led to an unexpected incident one afternoon as Darcy's father handed him several stacks of paper that he wanted his son to personally review, then have it notarized with a lawyer he trusted in Lambton. There were other such errands he had gathered, all leading Fitzwilliam further and further away, till something occurred to Mr. Darcy. "That is not far from Longbourne, you know, you might as well stop there to thank Bennet for recommending his brother-in-law; he's quite the attorney."

Fitzwiliam's hand stilled on the stack of papers he was slowly organizing. Hopeful though he had been for this chance meeting, he was yet too dutiful to his mother's wishes. "I am sure a note will do," he said. "Is it necessary to stop there?"

"Now, now," his father chided. "You begin to speak like your mother. I know they aren't always pleasant, but he is my dear old neighbor. And you like the ladies well enough don't you?"

Darcy could only assent.

"Then please do them the honor of calling there once in a while. Your mother finds it more taxing and it will save her the necessity."

Presented thus, Darcy felt free to agree. And as his father did not mention it later, he did not find it necessary to make it known to the general household where he would be going on his way out of Lambton.

He was unusually trepidatious as he approached Longbourne on his horse. It was a trip he had made not three weeks ago, but his world had changed since then. So it was odd to to find nothing out of the ordinary in the house.

Mrs. Bennet could be heard calling Mrs. Hill from within, the young girls were out on the grounds with their nurse, and alongside them sat Lizzy, lazily leaning against a bench, reading a letter. It was little Lydia and older Kitty who ran up to greet him first, pleased and eager for any change to their routine. He was familiar enough to them to allow running and little handshakes, and occasional enough to warrant interest. Their older sister's gaze he dared not meet and so bent to give the younger girls uncharacteristic attention. He commented on how long Lydia's hair was and how well Kitty curtseyed; he was immediately rebuffed however by the spoilt little ladies who retorted that Lydia's hair was shorter now than it had been and Kitty was too old to be told she curtseyed well.

"You don't know how to speak to a lady at all," said Kitty.

"Your friend George is much better at it," said the other. "Mary and Lizzy both agreed."

Behind them Darcy could see Elizabeth approaching, the hem of her lightly printed dress brushing against the grass in waves behind her. Slowly he raised his sight to meet her's. It was hard, so hard to look away then. She was the same Lizzy, or almost the same. But how had he been so unaware to what rhythm his own heart beat? And when had fashionable necklines fallen so low?

With all the hauteur of a Darcy he asked solemnly after her welfare to cover what he was sure was a red face. Lizzy glanced at him curiously and responded in the usual way.

"I suppose you are here for my father," she remarked, turning to walk. "I can take you to him."

He thanked her and affirmed he was there for Mr. Bennet. "But why did you suppose it?" he asked, his voice grave and deep. "I could have come for you as well."

"Not with that severe face you couldn't have," she said cheekily. "Your company would hardly have been tolerable. I would have sent you away to him either way."

There were days that Darcy allowed Elizabeth to laugh at his expense but today he felt a distinct annoyance in the tinkling of her laugh.

There was a short pause in which she explained that her father had gone for a fishing expedition with their neighbor but in a pond not too far away and offered to lead him to it. She seemed to guess his annoyance and asked after his parents. And when he finished pronouncing them well she asked absently, "And how are the others?"

Darcys steps slowed to almost a stop. She perhaps only meant Georgianna, but his mind jumped treacherously to the image of George Wickham smugly smirking at Elizabeth from across the lawn of Pemberley. The very thought of it made his hand unconsciously flush to a red fist.

"I suppose you mean George Wickham?" he said.

She turned to him in surprise. "Why no, I--"

"He has returned," he said, and then recalling what he had heard her sisters say added with some dismay, "But of course he has already called here." And again, now that Darcy recollected that Lady Catherine would be offering the Hunsford living to Wickham, and that perhaps now he had a view to settle on Elizabeth, Darcy asked hastily, "He did not perhaps have something particular to say to you?"

"He has not called here, if you must know," she said coldly. "By the by, you sound very much like your father. Though in this instance, at least, you ought to have a better understanding of the situation than your father."

He turned his face away and looked silently at his hands. As usual it was she who took his awkwardness away; smoothly she turned the conversation to calls she had received, making light of the few young men who had called on her following the Pemberley ball.

"Sir Fleming was of course most promising. Do you know him?" He turned to her in surprise at her description.

"He called on you? Last I heard of him he had not enough fortune to support himself."

"Not even half himself, if we are to be accurate, for I've never seen a thinner man. He makes up for it in cravats, however."

"Cravats?"

"Oh yes, has he not spoken to you about it? Well than you must not have spoken to him at all. After describing to me the many styles, and to my mother the sheer number of colors he owned, he stood and actually offered to retie my father's neck cloth in the fashionable style."

She was rewarded by a half smile on Darcy's more than usual pensive face,

"But he does come with a title, my mother strove to remind me. And indeed, who would not like to be called Lady? It gives one the feeling of being one even if one hasn't the demeanor. Yes, as I said, I find him most promising."

"You encouraged him then?"

"My father certainly did for me. Just enough to warrant a few more visits, for his own entertainment, not enough to warrant another gesture to retie his caravat."

Darcy took her arm and seized walking. She turned to him with some surprise.

"I wish you would not speak so Lizzy." His voice was quiet and a single line knit through his forehead.

"I beg your pardon," she exclaimed. "I did not realize he was your friend; you are right in stopping me. I am sure he is not ridiculous, but you must know I like to-"

"It is not Fleming--" For a moment he struggled to compose himself, trying to remember what his mother might think if she saw him there. He still held Elizabeth's elbow so severely that she, with true concern for him and some discomfort, brushed his hand with hers to release his grip. Their eyes instantly met and she quickly released his hold and folded her hands behind her. His composure was now completely undone, but Elizabeth, who seemed so calm, begged him to continue.

"I wish you would not speak so lightly of your suitors. Or at least--"

Her eyes turned sharp but he was not to be intimidated and with more pleading he spoke. "At least Lizzy do not make a sport of them, whatever your father may wish. Your attentions may effect more than those immediately before you, When you might cause injury to others, for no reason than that they love you, would you not regret it?"

"You speak with feeling on the subject," she said.

He set his jaw, fighting for control, and ground his teeth against tight lips to halt the words that nevertheless came tumbling out. He touched her elbow lightly, brushing his knuckles against her skin, brushing it down to her wrist, then he held her hand in his.

"With great feeling dearest," he said softly, and bowing low, pressed a kiss to her hand.

It was so tender a gesture, and his voice of such quiet anguish that it sent her into a whirl of confusion and wonder, her heart palpitating almost beyond it's capability.

When he rose he could not meet her eyes and so hastily he bid her goodbye and was off.

That evening Mr. Bennet mentioned to his wife that Darcy's son had been to see him to thank them for recommending her brother.

"He might have stayed for dinner," sniffed his wife.

"He would not because his parents were expecting him. I did expect that he wanted to call on you ladies as well, as it is unlike him to come to seek my company without his father. But he said he had other business to attend and could not come in." This explanation he chiefly made to Lizzy, but she could only affect a smile.

"I don't see why he did not pay me any compliment by calling, though it is my brother who lent them the service," cried Mrs. Bennet. And so she continued on about the 'Darcy pride' and on that note, to Elizabeth's great discomfort, the conversation ended.

Part 4

Trouble was clearly etched across her only son's face, Lady Anne thought as she observed him over dinner, but she ignored it silently, with all the austerity of her class.

He stood after dinner with his father, both leaning opposite sides of the same window , as they discussed business. There was a certain pride with which the elder Darcy listened to his son, a certain bravado in his air and squint in his eye. His wife and son both noticed it that night and wondered how long such approval might last. But while one expected that it might certainly fail if a hint of certain affections for a lady were known to him, the other expected to rely on it when the subject was brought forth.

A short while later Mr. Darcy bid his family adieu and retired to his room. His wife was considering to follow him when her son's voice arrested her on the chair in which she sat.

"I visited Longbourne today mother," he said. "I did not stop for dinner, though on a different day I might have."

She was touched by his honesty, though by no means pleased.

"My father asked me to call on Mr. Bennet regarding a small business matter he had helped us with. No--you need not look so relieved," he added bitterly as she turned to look at him with a smile. He sighed and stood and walked to the mantelpiece. His frame was not lanky exactly, but he had grown tall rather suddenly so that he sometimes gave the impression of not being able to hold his height.

Observing him thus, his face in such anguish that one would suppose he had committed some great crime, Lady Anne with great motherly empathy strove to reassure him. "I can imagine how strange, nay even painful, this must be for you. But you must see the wisdom in it?"

He looked down sullenly, and this she took as his assent.

"I can say at least that Elizabeth Bennet is a good girl. I am sure your imagination has added a good deal more to her merits than is there, but the inferiority of her connections, her situation, is far below what your father and I aspire for you. You must not grieve. Whatever difficulty you encounter now will soon be over and you and Miss Bennet will be able to meet like common and indifferent acquaintances."

"Very indifferent indeed!" scoffed her son.

Lady Anne's delicate face closed very suddenly.

"I know you will obey me in this," she said quietly.

"Forgive me, mother, but you know nothing of the kind."

She started and her forehead turned almost alarmingly white.

"Mother," he continued more softly though no less urgently, "I could hardly obey you in this instance even if I sincerely tried. I have never been able to stay away from her. I understand her background is not all that we wanted but what need have we for influence or wealth? I could not honorably live by any other woman's side."

Lady Anne turned coldly away from him. "I see you have made your decision. Then you mean to propose?"

Her son shifted uneasily. His courage did not falter but his voice did a little to see the parent he had spent most of his life pleasing turn, it seemed, against him. "I am not sure she will have me."

"Nonsense. I will not be trifled with anymore. Tell me exactly what you mean to do. Do you mean to bring shame upon us all, even upon your poor cousin--in short do you mean to marry that girl?"

"I mean to court her favor mother," he said with a sigh.

"But you are afraid she might refuse you." His mother's mind was quickly calculating how much influence she might exert over Elizabeth Bennet and her answer. She knew it to be unlikely and she became drained from the unhappiness that such an alliance would bring her. As was her habit she began to feel physically ill with every disturbance of heart and home.

Darcy came forward and knelt on the chair his mother had chosen that moment to lean on. He took her arm and with great sincerity and vulnerability looked on her face. Such an affectionate gesture with such a beloved expression made his mother's heart quake with indecision. She really did believe that he was relenting, and that perhaps she might agree on some other girl for his sake, some one other than Anne or Elizabeth.

"Do you really think Lizzy will reject me?" he asked, lost in his own thoughts. "I cannot give in to that answer I am afraid. Since it is her, I cannot let it end there. I mean to try for as long as I honorably can."

Lady Anne turned her face stoically away. His anxiety was for another. His vulnerability to be cured by another, not by herself. "You may bid me goodnight, if you please."

Darcy immediately regretted revealing so much, but it was too late, for she had already turned to organizing a bouquet. His next several attempts to catch her attention were stoutly ignored and at last he departed, unacknowledged.

Having made his declaration to at least one parent, Darcy felt rather free to visit Elizabeth when he chose. He had determined a week enough time for everyone to become comfortable regarding his sudden passion for Elizabeth Bennet. Unconsciously he was relying on his mother to ease his father into the news. She may have so done in any, nay in every other situation. But her own feelings, in this case, interfered and kept her so ill at ease that she could hardly leave her bed, much less go about speaking to her husband about it within the week that Darcy expected.

The possibility of Elizabeth's rejection was too much to bear, but that she might feel the same as he in so short a space of time seemed too high an expectation. In the fear of both he teetered for several days. He remembered with painful consideration how often he had been ignored by the object of his affections. And how often he had derided her parents. But the loveliness of her, the want for that companionship that had led him there throughout the years, eventually won all other considerations. Before the week was through he was on his horse, bound to Longbourne.

The entire Bennet clan was within when he called, all of course except the person he most wished to see. Previously he might have exchanged some news with Mr. Bennet then have gone off to find Elizabeth. But today he felt rather keenly his rudeness to Mrs. Bennet. It would be no wonder if Elizabeth's parents discouraged the match as much as his, he had told himself, and he labored hard to converse on subjects Mrs. Bennet most enjoyed. If she was pleased she knew better than to let 'that Darcy boy' see it and after a while with her usual tact she said, "I suppose you want to see Lizzy."

He was sent into momentary confusion, but no one else thought it of particular note that he wanted to see Lizzy. The servant was called to bring the tea and to send Lizzy, but Fitzwilliam stood and said he would bring her there himself.

"She's likely in the shrubbery," said Mr. Bennet with an appraising look. "She left us just a moment ago."

The grounds at Longbourne were not very large but a path at the back led to a shaded bit of wilderness in the back. Heavy rains had made a slight rivulet and before it he found Elizabeth, sitting and gazing.

Seeing in her sloping shoulders some definite sign of irritation, Darcy could not help but approach her and, sliding noiselessly onto the log, to sit beside her. He folded his hands before him, training his eyes to look steadily away from her. He felt, rather than saw, her start. She turned to gaze at him unabashedly for a long moment as he stared awkwardly away at his own hands.

"Are you angry with me Lizzy?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said. "At least I know I ought to be gratified but--oh Fitz!" She stood in her anxiety and placed a hand against her head. "Of what were you thinking? You'll never be allowed in Longbourne again if they hear of it. And papa you know will be upset if hears gossip in Lambton, for despite what others may say, the Darcys do not have a monopoly on pride. Papa's pride, for whatever reason has always rested heavily on my shoulders."

"I did not come here to find out what anyone else thinks," he said.

She might have gone on, but his words paused her. He was faced with her back again and drawing an agitated hand through his hair, he stood and approached her once more. For all her earlier boldness she would not look at him now.

"Won't you spare me a glance at least?" Thick lashes bowed even more and touched the crest of her cheek.

Something between fear and hope clutched at his chest. "You are too honest to trifle with me," he said tapping her elbow with the tip of his finger to catch her attention. Then with some consciousness, he clasped his hands behind him. "Lizzy my heart has been ardently yours for I know not how long. If I could but hear the state of your heart, I will know how to act. I can not promise your other concerns can entirely be done away with. But I hope they are not so much as to deprive me of a chance?"

Her face did not look forbidding, but she was quiet. For the first time in their acquaintance, she felt unnatural, and she longed for some quick reply to turn the page back to their light conversations of yesterday. Her silence thus stretched, Darcy really began to be afraid of being rejected. He wound his hand in his hair, and then stepped before her in such a way as to demand her gaze on his own. There was a certain confidence about him that she had in her younger years found attractive and at other times thought of as his Darcy pride. He presently pressed her fingers.

"We have always been friends, at least I have thought so, but will you become my best and dearest friend?"

There was a funny feeling in her stomach but the glow she felt in her heart reflected in her face. Seeing it, Darcy's eyes closed with visible relief, and her fingers, which he still held, were crushed in the intensity of his emotion. But Lizzy would not have pulled away for the world.

Instead her eyes danced. "And will I be your only dear friend?"

"Lizzy!"

"Forgive me sir, I must ask, for I know how highly you think of your cousin Richard, and how strongly you feel toward George. I must know if that station of best and dearest friend is to be shared before I acknowledge it."

"Do be serious."

"You've declared me too good to trifle with you. But perhaps now you regret the whole thing, for you see I will always tease and torment you. Our friendship, as you name it, will hardly change."

He tugged the fingers he still crushed in his and caught her lightly with an arm around her waist. At last the teasing spark in her expression stilled.

"Everything will change, my dear," he said, the first line of distress knitting his forehead. "But you did say 'always,' and I will hold you to it. I will not allow you to change your mind, but you must say something now before I am inappropriate."

"That I return your regard with equal fervor? I do love--"

The last word of that oft repeated phrase was murmured against his lips. Warmth rose like a tide inside him and crashed heavily against his chest. Soft, surprised lips sweetly urged him and pushed against his own. It was a chaste kiss by any standard except for the two who had never known something so exquisite as to be in love.

When they parted, there was still a great deal that Darcy wished to impart. But Lizzy with a delayed shyness, urged a return to the house asking, "Are they not waiting on us for tea?"

So they walked back, greatly slowed, for Lizzy could not help but voice her concerns again of earlier, especially what her father would think. "For it is no great secret," she said. "That your parents would desire a much higher match. And now it will seem to all the county as though father and I were scheming for an alliance while dallying as childhood friends. Oh it will not do! I can't bear for that to be said, especially as it is your fault. I rarely had a stray thought before."

"Rarely, you say?" He asked smilingly and she ducked her head out of sight.

"I promise I will soothe the opposition, be it my parents or yours, but my dear, none of it will matter to us s .,o much as this--" He looked down at their joined hands.

"It may matter almost as much."

He could not contend with that and they were both silent till just before they entered her home and he whispered that he would speak to his father before he spoke to her's.

Their extended disappearance was of course noted. Mrs. Bennet complained that the tea had been sent back for it had gone cold. Darcy stayed a while after speaking as solicitously as he had ever to all her family. Till even Mary roused herself to compliment him on it. He was embarrassed enough then to leave soon after.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Mr. Darcy's voice boomed across the field. They were both on horseback, on the perimeter of the grounds, and Fitzwilliam had taken that moment to confess his very decided interest in Elizabeth Bennet.

He had promised Elizabeth before leaving that he would speak to her father, but only after he had talked to his own. His father's horse before him slowed to a trot. "Your mother will not hear of it, and neither will I."

"I am not engaged to any other."

"And nor will you be if word of this gets out. Handle it tidily and end it quickly. I hope you have not spoken to her yet."

He paused. The sun was overhead, but the breeze was strong. Strong enough to make it a pleasant run on a horse without fear of heat. It had taken every ounce of courage to come this far, to confess to his mother, to Elizabeth , and now to his father; but in that silent pause, where in place of the birds whistling and the horses kicking impatiently on the grounds there was a swooshing sound in his ear, Darcy realized that he was perhaps a coward.

He gripped the reigns tightly. The beast was impatient to run as they had come to a rather sharp stop.

"I called on her yesterday."

"So you have?"

"I have."

It was difficult to say which nostril flared in anger more, Mr. Darcy's or the beast he rode. But they both charged at Fitwilliam in a stream of anger.

"You had no right. None! To speak before you had spoken to me. What did you imagine I could be made to accept a match so wholly unsuitable?" There was a great deal more of this tirade, of what little sense his son had, of his duty and station, and a great deal of abuse for his friend's family. "I did not think Bennet was so little to be trusted," he said bitterly as at last the first flush of anger began to die down. "But then I do not know my own son, so how can I be expected to know the intentions of a clever man like him?"

"I believe he is as unaware of it as you are, but as for your son--" Fitzwilliam sighed. "Have I ever before caused you such distress?"

"Not since you were ill as a babe and the doctor said you would not survive the night."

They were so very rarely candid, even with each other, that there was an awkward element to a conversation already ripe with difficulty. To be told how much he was meant to his father at such a juncture only strengthened his resolve.

"I have, perhaps a little uncommonly for men my age, heard your counsel and obeyed you in every matter."

"Save this one."

"So I beg you sir, will you not allow for this exception? Lizzy herself is as much a lady in manners and birth as any other. Whatever her connections or her mother may be, there can be no objection made towards her."

"I would have had you marry Lord Kindling's daughter. Or even your cousin Anne."

"Perhaps. But I assure you that neither would have honored Pemberley as a home as one who has seen intimately our ways."

"So you will do as you please?"

"I do wish to be married, and to be married soon."

His father seemed to start and Fitzwilliam quickly added, "I will wait for your consent, sir."

"And if I should deny it?"

Fitzwilliam was silent and in silence they rode till they entered Pemberley. Mr. Darcy all but stormed in and retired to his chambers. Fitzwilliam, after watching him depart, turned, left the house and strode to the stables; he took his horse from the surprised stable boy. He rode with reckless speed till the beast itself protested.

His appearance at Longbourne for the second consecutive day caused a ripple of curiosity. There were a number of questions, especially from Mr. Bennet, but once it was understood that there was nothing the matter at Pemberley, and that Fitzwilliam's grave expression was just from being 'tired,' he was allowed by Mrs. Bennet to wait in the parlor till dinner.

He declined as quickly as he could, and said he had stopped only for a quick hello, and must be on his way directly.

"Go with him then oh 'quick hello,'" said Mr. Bennet quietly to Elizabeth. "But not past the gate if you please."

His daughter bowed her blushing face past him and walked beside Darcy, who held his horse. True to her father, she stopped and turned to him before the gate.

The gravity of Darcy's face showed a little of his anguish. "It may be a long courtship, Lizzy," he said. "It pains me to say that I cannot announce us as engaged, and seek your father's approval right away. But it may be a while my dear before we are married. That is all I came to say, that we will have to wait."

"Is that why you came here looking as grieved as a widower?" said his lady in sweet perplexity. "Did you imagine we would marry by Michaelmas?"

"No, but I had hoped at least I might see snowflakes like confetti dancing over us when we left the church, even if rose petals were scarce."

Elizabeth had an uncontrollable smile on her face. "I rather thought gentlemen preferred snowdrops and daffodils."

He did not quite smile at her mocking, but his expression lightened a degree.

"He said I disappoint him."

Elizabeth could say nothing, but swallowed hard. It seemed to her that stormy clouds were gathering against them; and Fitz might never be forgiven once they cleared. "Do you think it will all be worth it in the end?"

"You speak as if I will have to make a sacrifice. I assure you, dearest, I do not intend to give anything up. Not one connection, not one piece of any belonging, not one love for another."

Such a declaration uttered with such tenderness and quiet decisiveness could not help but move. She leaned herself against his arm, her hands on the rough of his coat, and rising on her toes, brushed soft lips against his cheek, which tightened in surprise.

So pleased was she with him that her cheeks did not burn in shame when upon bidding him adieu she was confronted by her startled and alarmed parents. She could but rush forward and laughingly embrace them.

Mr. Darcy, owing to some pride in his son's constant and upstanding behavior all the previous years of his life, slowly began to adjust to the idea of Elizabeth as a daughter in law. Indeed, she was so charming herself and so unafraid when confronted some weeks later by all the aristocratic anger he had, that he could not help but admit that he had always liked Bennet's daughter.

"Perhaps even to have as your own daughter?" his son had asked smilingly.

"It was a mistake to be sure," said the elder Darcy to his wife. "But it would be very bad for Fitzwilliam to break it off now. I'm inclined to allow it, as he's never disobeyed me before."

"Better to have disobeyed you on all the little matters," cried his wife, "Than to do this now to my poor Anne!"

At last she agreed, but only on the condition that Elizabeth and Darcy remain at Pemberley after the wedding and make it their home too. It was a sign of how deeply Elizabeth cared for him that she swallowed hard and agreed to his eager eyes. The smile, however, did not reach her's.

Though a trying one, it was but a year, before Elizabeth felt that the country air was quite stifling to town. And even Darcy began to be impatient for a more private arrangement. Mrs. Bennet became a stronger supporter for Elizabeth at that time, than in all her years previous; she so frequently made Elizabeth an excuse to visit Pemberley that Lady Anne began to wish Elizabeth elsewhere to curtail these over eager visits.

There was a great deal of shuffling and occasional boughts of illness that at times brought them back under one roof. But between Elizabeth and her husband was a perfect affection, and though they argued, there was not a day that the friends' conversation ran dry.

The End