His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (43 page)

Thankfully, the next day was free of the attentions from Elizabeth's family. Jane and Bingley were sequestered in one corner of the sitting room and he and Elizabeth were in the opposite corner. Ostensibly, both couples were acting as chaperones to the other, though in practice no one paid attention to anyone but their own lover.

Darcy held Elizabeth's hand in his own, and the way she absently traced patterns on the back of his hand drove him to distraction. "I have a question for you, my dear," she said.

He recognized the playful tone in her voice and hid his smile. "Yes, Elizabeth?"

"I wish you to tell me how you ever fell in love with me." He heard her amusement and waited for her to continue. "How could you begin? I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?"

There was much he did not know about Elizabeth, but he began to think she voiced these outrageous opinions in order to hide how deeply she truly felt on the subject. Despite her laughter, he suspected she honestly wished an answer, and so he considered for a moment. "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I
had
begun."

Her next words gave him more insight into her mind, and he cursed his own wayward tongue. "My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners--my behavior to
you
was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?"

Though he wished to counter her beliefs regarding her beauty and her manners, he answered the question instead. "For the liveliness of your mind, I did."

She shook her head. "You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for
your
approbation alone."

Darcy started.
Did I not tell Bingley exactly that only a year ago?

"I roused and interested you, because I was so unlike
them.
Had you not been really amiable, you would have hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you."

Her smile was so saucy, and her picture so precise, that Darcy had to laugh--but Elizabeth was not done. "There--I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me--but nobody thinks of
that
when they fall in love."

Now to this Darcy must protest. "Was there no good in your affectionate behavior to Jane while she was ill at Netherfield?" The lady in question, hearing her name, looked up. Darcy smiled and shook his head, and she turned her attention back to Bingley.

"Dearest Jane! Who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it by all means." She waved her free hand in a gesture of largess. "My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarreling with you as often as may be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what made you so unwilling to come to the point at last? What made you so shy of me when you first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did you look as if you did not care about me?"

Darcy examined her expression; beneath her teasing smile he saw that same curiosity he had noted earlier. "Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement."

He could not keep a defensive note from creeping into his voice, but she smiled, and for the first time he noticed a dimple that winked in and out of existence. The sight so transfixed him that he almost missed her next words.

"But I was embarrassed," she protested.

With an effort, Darcy tended to the conversation. "And so was I."

"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner."

Darcy stroked the soft skin on her inner wrist with his thumb. "A man who had felt less, might."

Elizabeth blushed and laughed. "How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it." Darcy smiled; it amazed him that he could discompose Elizabeth simply by telling her he loved her.

"But I wonder how long you
would
have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when you
would
have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of thanking you for your kindness to Lydia certainly had great effect.
Too much
, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a breach of promise? For I ought not to have mentioned the subject. This will never do."

Darcy barely contained his laughter at the rapidity with which her mind worked. "You need not distress yourself," he assured her. "The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine's unjustifiable endeavors to separate us were the means of removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humor to wait for any opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me hope, and I was determined at once to know everything."

Elizabeth smiled slyly. "Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed, or had you intended any more serious consequence?"

Darcy settled back in his seat, his lips turned up in a faint smile as he remembered. "My real purpose was to see
you
, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made."

"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to befall her?"

He pulled his hand from hers and rose to his feet. "I am more likely to want more time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done directly."

"And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected."

And thus their quiet discussion shifted to the writing tables, where they each pulled out a sheet of paper and pen and wrote letters to their aunts. Darcy could well imagine the joy Elizabeth shared in hers and knew he would need to soon write a letter to Georgiana, who would welcome the news. However, his first duty was to inform Aunt Catherine, and so he began--

Dear Lady Catherine,

I hope this letter finds you in health. I have news to impart which I fear you will not like. I am engaged, and my future wife is none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I am sorry if this angers you, and I am especially sorry if it hurts Anne. I never had any intention to marry her; she was never more than a dear cousin to me. I deeply regret any actions of mine that might have been misconstrued as deeper intentions.

Miss Bennet and I would be honored if you chose to join us at our wedding. I hope you will wish us joy.

Yrs&etc,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

He then drew out another piece of paper and dipped the pen back in the ink. The letter to Georgiana was far longer, filled with all the effusions of joy he could not express to anyone else but Elizabeth. When he was done, he folded them both and put them in his jacket pocket to seal later with his own wax and signet.

Darcy soon discovered that the general knowledge of their engagement was not the perfect solution he had anticipated. When no one had known of their relationship, he and Elizabeth had been allowed--nay, encouraged--to spend time alone together. Now they were constantly under the chaperonage of some one or other of her sisters, or occasionally Mrs. Bennet.

More than once, Darcy caught Mr. Bennet laughing at his obvious discomfort. His conversations with that gentleman were longer and more detailed than they had ever been before, and he soon came to appreciate Mr. Bennet's wit as being the source of Elizabeth's. That very lack of decorum which he had previously despised had created the atmosphere which had allowed her spirit to flourish.

Each morning, Darcy waited in the study for the post with some anticipation. Neither his aunt nor his sister would be long in replying to this news, he felt certain. On the morning four days after he sent word of his engagement, a letter from each fulfilled his trust.

The letter addressed in Georgiana's hand was thick and he set it aside to share with Elizabeth later. Lady Catherine's letter he studied with some apprehension, but eventually he decided to open it himself, as her manner of expressing herself was not likely to be something he wished Elizabeth to read.

Mr. Darcy,

You can have no doubt as to my reasons for writing you, Sir. I have lately received such news that I could not believe, had it not been in your own hand.

I speak of course of the letter you sent to inform me of your impending marriage to that nobody, Elizabeth Bennet. What can you be thinking, Sir, to marry such a girl? Did I not warn you of her arts and allurements? But this is always the way of things when people do not heed my words--they make foolish decisions which cannot be undone.

I most certainly will not attend your wedding. It would give your bride a consequence she does not deserve. For the sake of your dear mother's memory, you shall always be welcome at Rosings Park, but I shall never wait on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I remain,

Your affectionate aunt,

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Darcy reached the fireplace in two strides and tossed the letter on the flames. He jabbed at it with the poker until it caught fire, and then he watched with grim satisfaction as it burned to ash.
Elizabeth will never read those vile words.

He set the poker down and paced the room, his fingers tapping against his leg. "Lady Catherine must be answered," he decided finally, and sat down at the writing table.

Her ladyship's language having been so harsh, Darcy felt no need for civility in his reply.

Lady Catherine,

Your manner in referring to my intended is insupportable. I find myself in a position I had never anticipated. Henceforth, your ladyship, you are unwelcome at all Darcy properties. I will not tolerate the society of one who cannot see the value of Miss Bennet, or who would abuse her in such a fashion.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Darcy sealed the letter and left the house. He was halfway to Longbourn when he met Elizabeth on the path. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Elizabeth. I had thought to find you at home."

She grimaced. "I left my mother and Aunt Phillips deep in wedding discussions."

Despite his agitation, Darcy smiled at her comical expression. "Then perhaps I might walk a ways with you," he suggested. "Or do you suppose our chaperones would be too shocked to learn we managed to find a few moments to be alone?"

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled up at him. "I think we can be held blameless, since we stumbled upon one another quite by accident. If we do not hurry back to Longbourn, who is to know?"

Darcy chuckled and offered her his arm, and they walked some ways in companionable silence. Elizabeth's presence soothed him, and he almost forgot his earlier aggravation until she asked, "What sent you from Netherfield this morning?"

He stiffened in remembered anger, and Elizabeth turned to face him. "What troubles you, Mr. Darcy?"

"Elizabeth, we are to marry in less than a month. Do you think you could call me by my name?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that is what rests so heavily on your mind."

He sighed. "No, I apologize. I received a letter from Lady Catherine. She is displeased by our match."

Elizabeth smiled. "Did you really expect her to be otherwise?"

"It was the manner in which she expressed her displeasure that angered me. The language she used when referring to you, Elizabeth..." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I can well imagine. After all, my arts and allurements have drawn you in."

His jaw dropped. "Did she address herself to you with those same words?"

"It does not matter," she said. Darcy grunted--it mattered a great deal. "Fitzwilliam, look at me." His name on her lips calmed him as nothing else could, and he met her eyes at last.

Elizabeth stepped closer to him. "It does not matter," she repeated softly, and placed a hand over Darcy's heart.