Beginning Section, End Section

CHAPTER 9

Posted on Monday, 17 March 2008

It was two days before the wedding and Elizabeth was deep in the fidgets, for Mr. Darcy was expected at Longbourn that morning. He had written Bingley and agreed to stand up at his friend's wedding—that meant he would be present for the pre-wedding ball that Bingley was hosting that night. At the thought of seeing him again, of perhaps dancing with him, Elizabeth felt lightheaded with anxiety, for she still had no idea what he really felt—did he admire her? Was he looking forward to seeing her? How would he behave—as disagreeably as ever, or would he desire to please her and her relations?

But he had told Bingley that he needed to practice! There was only one place he could have got that idea, and it pleased her no end that he had taken her criticism to heart.

Now where was he?!

“Lizzy.” Jane looked at her with concern. “Calm down, dear. They will be here soon.”

“Oh, I am ridiculous, Jane.”

“Not at all. I felt just the same way when my dear Bingley returned.”

“But you actually loved him—do not try to deny it, you loved him with all your heart as long ago as November.” Elizabeth looked at the sewing in her hands and whispered, “I barely even know Mr. Darcy.”

“You have been acquainted with him as long as I have known Bingley. You have probably spent more time in his company than I had spent in Bingley's before he returned in April. Of course he was not very open—though he was more open with you than with anyone else—so you may not know him as well as you would like; but if you did not know him well enough to admire him at least a little, you would not be so nervous, would you?”

Elizabeth smiled. “It is very handy having an older, wiser, almost-married sister. Thank you. I feel a little better. And I am probably getting worked up over nothing at all—he will likely be just as proud and disagreeable as when we last met.” She craned her neck towards the window. “But where is he?”

Jane put her hand to her mouth and laughed.

A half hour later the gentlemen arrived. They were announced into the drawing room, and Bingley said, “Mrs. Bennet, you remember my friend Mr. Darcy?”

Mrs. Bennet had not been informed of Darcy's impending arrival. It was evident that she was not at all pleased to see him, and she greeted him coolly.

“You have come for the wedding, have you, Mr. Darcy?” she asked him.

“I have madam.” He paused and it appeared that he would say no more, as in his old manner, and Elizabeth felt something close to despair and began berating herself for having got her hopes so high. But then, “I am very happy for Mr. Bingley. He is a fortunate man. Miss Bennet shall make him an excellent wife, though I do no know if she is to be as much envied in her choice of husband.”

While the rest of the room stared at him in amazement, Bingley laughed and said, “I could not agree more, Darcy. I am indeed the one to be envied.”

“Well put, Mr. Darcy,” cried Mrs. Bennet. She beamed at Jane. “My girls are certainly fine young ladies. But we are not at all displeased with Mr. Bingley, I assure you!”

Darcy smiled and nodded, and for the first time glanced at Elizabeth. Feeling some of her anxiety lift, hardly knowing what she did, she smiled back. The effect on Darcy was immediate—for just an instant he grinned ear to ear, flashing two dimples that took her breath away.

Heavens! She had never seen him smile like that before! She felt the heat rising up her neck and looked quickly down at her work as the general conversation continued. She smiled as she listened to his discussion with her mother. Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, never had he spoken with such gentleness. She longed to know what was passing in his mind; in what manner he thought of her, and whether she was dear to him.

After some minutes her smile widened as she sensed him taking a seat next to her on the sofa.

“It is very good to see you again, Miss Elizabeth.”

She forced herself to look at him—his smile had gone and he seemed anxious. “It is good to see you too, sir. I still remember your kindness when we had to leave Hunsford so quickly.”

“Not at all. I only wished to help. I am glad your father was not seriously injured.”

Casting about for some subject besides the obvious—she knew he would be sick of wedding talk in no time—she asked after Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“He is very well. In fact, he had considered coming with me to Netherfield in order to become acquainted with your 'bevy of sisters.'” Elizabeth laughed. “But duty called and he is back with his regiment.”

“Mr. Bingley said you were with your uncle in Derbyshire.”

Darcy seemed pleased to hear this. “Yes I was. I was called upon to attend several social functions there.”

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. “And did you practice?”

He blushed and chuckled. “I did indeed. My uncle was quite proud of me. I actually danced almost every dance at a ball. Colonel Fitzwilliam finally rescued me and dragged me away to the card room.”

On the one hand this was very pleasing news—he had listened to her criticism and had taken it to heart; on the other hand, Elizabeth was not happy to think of him dancing the night away with so many other ladies. Heiresses, no doubt, and probably very beautiful. She cocked her head and gave him an appraising look—yes, a compliant Mr. Darcy would be in very great demand at a ball.

“Poor man,” she teased him. “So much attention from young ladies—how do you bear it?”

He blushed again. “It is not the sort of attention I care for. I understand you have met Mr. Sprewell. If he were master of Pemberley with the Darcy fortune, he would receive exactly the same amount of attention from exactly the same young ladies as now hound me.”

This was the very opposite of her opinion of him; she had thought his vanity would have been flattered by such attention. How wrong she had been—apparently between the two of them, she was the one with all the vanity!

“Mr. Bingley,” she said nonchalantly, coloring and again looking at her work, “is giving a ball himself tonight.”

“I believe he did mention it.”

“We young ladies will endeavor to pay you no attention at all, Mr. Darcy, if that is your desire.”

“What if it were not my desire?”

She looked up and saw his anxiety. She smiled impishly. “Then I am sure my sister Lydia will be happy to dance with you. She misses the regiment something awful and has been very bored.”

He frowned for a moment, then said with utter sincerity, “Will you dance the first set with me, Miss Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. This was exactly what she desired. “I will be happy to, Mr. Darcy.” She laughed. “But I had so hoped to dance that set with Mr. Sprewell!”

“And the supper dance?”

Elizabeth was very surprised. “You do not waste much time, sir.”

“I have wasted enough.”

She felt a delicious warmth at this undeniable evidence of his admiration. But however gratifying, such marked attention would not go unnoticed, and she was not ready for the consequences. “I would prefer to wait until tonight before making any more commitments. I hope you understand.”

He looked endearingly disappointed, but after a moment smiled. “I understand completely—you still hope to eat supper with Mr. Sprewell.”

“Indeed,” laughed Elizabeth, “it has been my fondest wish since I heard of the ball. Might you be so kind as to drop hints on my behalf at Netherfield?”

“I will of course do so.” He hesitated, then with a tiny smirk said, “I hope, though, that you have developed some talent for decorative sewing. If not, I am afraid all my hints will come to nothing.”

She cried in mock indignation, “I may decorate ill, but you can tell Mr. Sprewell that I sew as neat a hem as any lady I know!”

“I have already explained to him that you improve your mind by extensive reading,” she laughed delightedly, “but he seemed unimpressed.”

The visit ended shortly after, as Mr. Bingley had to return to Netherfield to assist his sisters in preparing for the ball. Later, Elizabeth and Jane discussed the visit, and Mr. Darcy's behavior in particular.

Jane said, “So he does admire you, Lizzy. And to be so pleasant to us all!”

“It was very satisfactory. I've never seen him behave so. And who knew he had a sense of humor! I hope it is not temporary.”

“Time will tell.” Jane took her hand and giggled. “Let us hope he has no more conversations with Mr. Sprewell—if he finds out that you can not draw, we will probably never see him again!”

CHAPTER 10

“Bingley, I have something to tell you.”

“Of course, Darcy.” Bingley looked up from his desk and waved him to a chair. “Have a seat.”

Darcy sat and took a deep breath. “Bingley . . . Charles, last winter Miss Jane Bennet spent several months in town at her uncle's house. She exchanged visits with Miss Bingley, who led her to believe that you knew of her presence there but were too busy to see her.” He swallowed. “Miss Bingley told me about it, and I agreed with her that you should not be told. Since I thought Miss Bennet did not love you, I believed it would only hurt you if you knew.”

Bingley watched him in silence, a grave expression on his face.

“I was wrong,” Darcy continued. “I should never have presumed to run your love life that way, or indeed any part of your life. I hope you can forgive me.”

For a minute Bingley said nothing. Then he folded his hands on his desk and said, “Caroline never told me, you know. I had to hear it from Jane after I'd returned here. Caroline has still never said a word, so I haven't either, but of course she knows that I know—I rather enjoy her discomfort from time to time.” He frowned. “I thought better of you, Darcy.”

Darcy merely nodded.

“I hope you have now seen for yourself that I have my fiancée's affection.”

“I have indeed. She seems very attached. I wonder that I missed it before.”

“So you no longer have any objections?”

Darcy tried not to smile, but could not help it. “No, Bingley, I believed what I told Mrs. Bennet this morning—Miss Bennet is the one to be pitied.”

Bingley laughed. He stood and came around the desk where they shook hands. “I can not help but forgive you, my friend, and I am relieved that you can now see her affection.” He rubbed his palms briskly together. “Well, I have some more work to do, so I will see you later.”

Darcy stepped into the hall and stood a moment lost in incredulity. Unless he was very much mistaken, and despite all that had occurred, Bingley had just asked for his blessing and he had given it. He shook his head in amazement.

That evening as he was preparing for the ball, Darcy could not remember the last time he had taken such care with his attire. Then he did remember—it was before Bingley's last ball here at Netherfield. That night he had taken great pains to look well, and until the moment he asked her to dance, he had denied to himself that it was for her. Tonight there was no denying it. He wanted to look handsome for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he longed for her admiration and approval.

He smiled at the thought of his visit to Longbourn that morning, the first time he had seen her in many weeks. He came away almost certain that she no longer despised him. At times, he almost thought that she admired him, but he would not get his hopes up. He was determined to court her, to win her heart.

With a last check in the mirror and a nod from his man, he went into the hall.

“Mr. Darcy!”

Oh, God! “Yes, Miss Bingley?”

He turned to see Miss Bingley and Mr. Sprewell approaching him. Together. The look on her face could best be described as desperate. Mr. Sprewell, so Darcy understood, had spent his time since Miss Bingley's arrival at Netherfield trying to court his fashionable, pretty, rich cousin—Miss Bingley had spent that time trying to avoid Mr. Sprewell. Darcy had never been so amused. He greeted Bingley's cousin with quiet enthusiasm.

“How splendid you look, sir,” Miss Bingley said. “I have always admired you in black.”

Darcy bowed. “Thank you. You also look well, Miss Bingley. Mr. Sprewell, that is an admirable coat.”

Mr. Sprewell visibly swelled with pride in his coat. Miss Bingley visibly cringed. She said with something close to a wink, “I look forward to our dance tonight, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy did not recall asking her for a dance. He knew he would have to at some point, but he had not yet done so. He gave her a questioning look.

She winked again and nodded vigorously toward Mr. Sprewell, who was examining his cuffs, and said, “The first set?”

Ah! “I am sorry, Miss Bingley, but there has been a misunderstanding. I am engaged with another young lady for the first set. I hope you will dance the second with me, though.”

“I say, Darcy,” cried Mr. Sprewell, looking up from his sleeve, “that is wonderful. So, cousin Caroline, you are free to dance the first set with me.” He bowed over her hand and stayed by her side with a contented smile.

“I must—attend to something,” Darcy said quickly before he began to laugh, and he hurried away down the stairs. When he reached the first floor, he had a sudden inspiration. He went to Bingley's office and found him standing at a window, looking out at the lengthening shade. “Bingley, do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course, Darcy. I suppose I am just staring into the future.” He chuckled. “The guests should not begin arriving for a half hour or so, and I had a little time to think.”

“Have you decided what you will do after your wedding? Will you travel?”

“We will spend two fortnights at the seashore in Kent, then we planned on going on to Pemberley as you and I had originally discussed. Oh, I forgot to mention it, didn't I.”

“Don't worry about that. I hope you will come. I would consider it an honor to be your first visit as a married couple.”

“Thank you, Darcy.”

“Do your sisters still plan to accompany you to Pemberley?”

“Of course. You know Louisa and Caroline would never miss a visit to your estate.”

“They will be very welcome, along with your brother Hurst.” Darcy stepped to the window and, standing next to Bingley, put his hands behind his back and stared at the lawn. “What about Miss Bennet's sisters? They would of course also be welcome.”

“Of course.”

“Well?”

“Now that you mention it, Lydia is very unhappy about missing a trip to Brighton because of our wedding—perhaps she would enjoy Pemberley.” Bingley laughed at Darcy's red face and said, “Not the sister you had in mind, eh? You are much more transparent than you used to be, Darcy. Lizzy will be traveling with her aunt and uncle Gardiner this summer. They were supposed to leave next week, but it was put off for a fortnight due to Mr. Gardiner's business concerns. He is so busy that they will not even be at the wedding” He grinned slyly. “He is the uncle in Cheapside.”

Cheapside by this time was completely irrelevant. Darcy felt his heart sink—he had so wanted her to see Pemberley, had wanted to see her at Pemberley. “Where are they traveling?”

“An interesting story, that. Originally they planned to go to the Lake District—beautiful country, I visited it as a boy.” Darcy rolled his eyes, and with another sly grin Bingley continued, “But they won't have the time now. So they will make their way to a place where Mrs. Gardiner spent some years of her youth. You may have heard of it—a little town called Lambton? Why that is near Pemberley, isn't it! I suppose we might see them there.”

Darcy grinned at the window. “Since you've become engaged, Bingley, you are quite full of yourself.”

“I am simply happy, Darcy. Betrothal suits me. I highly recommend it.”

CHAPTER 11

Elizabeth arrived at the ball arm-in-arm with Jane and immediately scanned the foyer for Mr. Darcy, anticipating a very happy, if anxious, night. She hoped so much to find him still gentle, respectful and desiring to please. She now freely admitted his good attributes. He was clever, educated, honorable, witty and wealthy. He was tall and very handsome, and he clearly admired her very much—she wondered at how she had ever missed it. In short, when he was not being proud and disagreeable he was everything she could desire in a husband.

In fact, when she considered his probable reaction to her new gown—if he was not tempted tonight, he could not be tempted!—she felt such sensations that she was not sure whether being proud and disagreeable really mattered much. That thought brought forth an embarrassed laugh and she shook her head at such Lydia-like silliness.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.”

Elizabeth turned to the sound of Miss Bingley greeting her parents and was shocked to see Mr. Darcy at the end of the reception line with Mr. Hurst. He was actually greeting guests rather than hiding in a corner, smiling and talking to Sir William Lucas and two of his sons and—oh dear!—Mr. Collins. It was amazing!

As she approached them she saw Charlotte behind her husband looking very uncomfortable, and Darcy's smile began to fade. Then she heard Mr. Collins's voice and knew why.

“But your aunt, sir! And Miss DeBourgh, your intended! You must consider their sufferings at your wanton casting off of the most sacred obligations! Obligations to not only . .”

“Collins,” said Sir William as he tugged forcefully on his son-in-law's arm, “have you seen the Netherfield chimney piece? Your cousin is rightly proud of soon becoming mistress of such a fine house. . .” and off they went, with poor Charlotte tagging behind unable to greet Elizabeth with more than an unhappy nod.

Elizabeth was suddenly very cognizant of her connection to that silly man. Darcy was still scowling after Mr. Collins as she uneasily approached him.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said in greeting, “I look forward to our dance.”

He turned his scowl on her and was immediately overcome with such a look of delight that she almost cheered.

“I look forward to it as well, Miss Elizabeth.” He appeared suddenly to become aware of her gown as his gaze went slowly down from her eyes to her bosom. He seemed stricken for a moment. He swallowed and said in a low voice, “You look very well this evening, madam. Your gown,” he swallowed again, “is most becoming.”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you. You look very handsome tonight, sir.”

“You're very kind,” he said with a wide grin as he bent over her hand.

She went off to find Charlotte, her head full of Mr. Darcy's grin and the look in his eyes as he gazed at her bosom. Heavens!

Charlotte gave her a full account of Mr. Collins's upbraiding of Mr. Darcy for failing to marry Miss DeBourgh. She was very embarrassed. “Eliza, would Jane understand if we did not attend her wedding? I hate to expose Mr. Darcy to more of my husband's ranting.”

“You can not miss Jane's wedding, Charlotte. Don't be silly. Mr. Darcy would not want that, I am sure.”

Charlotte smirked. “Oh, you are sure what Mr. Darcy wants, are you Eliza?” Elizabeth blushed. “Lady Catherine says it is because of you that Mr. Darcy will not marry her daughter. She has been none too happy with Mr. Collins because of it—that is why he is behaving like such an ass.” She took Elizabeth's hands. “It is a great match for you, dear, a great match. And do not worry, I will not remind you too often that I was correct!”

“It is not a match yet, Charlotte!”

At that moment Darcy himself arrived to claim her for the first set, much to Charlotte's amusement and delight. “I suspect you will enjoy this more than the last time you danced together,” she whispered to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth just smiled and went with Darcy. As the music began she said, “Will we have some conversation this time, Mr. Darcy?”

“As I recall, we had conversation last time we danced.”

Elizabeth frowned, wishing she had not reminded him of her stupid defense of Mr. Wickham. “Yes we did, and I am sorry for how uncivil I was.”

Darcy looked surprised. “Please do not concern yourself. My behavior since the beginning of our acquaintance has not been what it should. I hope you can forgive me.”

She brightened at this outright acknowledgment of what she had suspected—he was trying to improve his manners. What a sweet man he was! A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead and as they passed she found it a struggle to keep from reaching up and brushing it away. She blushed and said,

“I think we should henceforth adopt my usual philosophy, sir—we should only think of the past as its remembrance gives us pleasure. So I shall remember only that we danced well together, that we had some stimulating conversations last fall at Netherfield,” he chuckled, “and that you kindly offered assistance when my father was injured.”

“And I shall remember how beautiful you look tonight.”

Elizabeth nearly turned the wrong way.

“Forgive me,” he said, “I did not mean to discompose you. I hope I am not too forward.”

“You are certainly forward, Mr. Darcy.” She smiled teasingly. “Time will tell if you are too forward.” To change the subject—he really was being quite forward—she said, “I see Miss Bingley is dancing the first with Mr. Sprewell.”

Darcy grinned. “Yes, he was delighted to discover that she had this set open.”

“He does seem to admire accomplished ladies. Has he offered to mend her pen?”

Darcy laughed. “Not yet,” he said as they passed, “but I am sure he is working up to it.” When they came back together he said, “I understand you are traveling with your aunt and uncle next month, to a town in Derbyshire.”

“Yes, a place called Lambton. Do you know it?”

“I do indeed. It is only five miles from Pemberley.”

“So close?” She felt a flutter of spirits at that information, and at his having gone to the trouble to discover her plans.

He nodded. “Did you know that Mr. Bingley and your sister will be traveling to Pemberley at the beginning of August?”

“Yes I did. It is very kind of you to have them there.”

He cleared his throat. “I hope that you and the Gardiners will consider staying at Pemberley instead of at Lambton. After all, Bingley's other sisters and his brother will be there. And I hope that you will allow me to introduce my sister to your acquaintance while you are in Derbyshire. She has long desired to know you.”

He wanted her to visit his estate! And his wish of introducing his sister to her was a compliment of the highest kind. She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her must be the work of her brother, and that was very satisfactory. As the dance ended and he escorted her to her mother, she said,

“I would like very much to stay at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy, and of course I would be pleased to make Miss Darcy's acquaintance. I will mention it to the Gardiners—I will be at their disposal, but I am such a charming niece that they may be willing to do as I suggest. I will write to Jane with news of our plans, and ask that she and Mr. Bingley keep you informed.”

“May I ask you now for the supper dance?”

“You may. I will happily dance the supper dance with you,” she gave him a teasing smile, “since Mr. Sprewell will probably be dancing it with his cousin.”

Beaming, he bent to kiss her hand. “Thank you.”

She colored and watched as he turned and made his way across the room, his tall, erect form easy to follow among the crowd. She almost laughed at his regal response to several deferential bows and looks—he received them as merely his due, and she realized that a few weeks earlier that reaction would have angered her. But now she found it hard to fault—in this room he was like an Arabian among her father's plow horses. Their deference was natural as breathing, natural as the flush she now felt as she contemplated their next dance together.

As she contemplated the future.

CHAPTER 12

Posted on Friday, 21 March 2008

Jane and Bingley's wedding was joyous—even Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley seemed to sincerely wish the newlyweds every happiness. Elizabeth felt her own reasons for satisfaction. Mr. Darcy—her Darcy, as he had become in the privacy of her thoughts—had been so attentive and charming that by the time Bingley's ball had ended, even Mrs. Bennet had warmed to him and begun to speak of him as a possible son-in-law.

Mr. Bennet was nearly beside himself with glee at the opportunity to tease his favorite daughter over her drastic change of heart; but he also gave her much pleasure by exerting himself to become better acquainted with Darcy during the wedding breakfast, finally declaring him “admirable, if rather too sincere.”

Darcy bore the attention better than Elizabeth could have hoped, and now, a fortnight after the wedding, she eagerly anticipated her journey north for reasons that had nothing to do with the peaks! For her uncle had agreed—they were to stay at Pemberley.

They spent the last half of July traveling and visiting the remarkable places that lay along their route: Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham—but the whole of it paled in Elizabeth's mind compared to thoughts of Pemberley. Occasionally she would chastise herself, for surely such unbridled anticipation could only result in disappointment, yet she could not help herself. As their carriage made its way along the edges of the Peak District where the Darcy estate lay, her excitement was palpable.

“This road,” Mrs. Gardiner said, pointing to the right out the window, “would take us to Lambton. Pemberley's park begins at those woods up ahead.”

“Is the park very large, aunt?”

Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “Oh, yes, very large. I don't know the exact size, but we will not see the house for some minutes. I have not been here for years though, and things always seem larger when we are young.”

Mrs. Gardiner remembered correctly—the park was indeed very large and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.

Elizabeth's mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound.

It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills;—and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned.

Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the house, her spirits were in high flutter at the prospect of again seeing its owner and meeting his sister, and of course seeing Jane again for the first time since the wedding breakfast.

They stepped down from the carriage and were startled by a cry of, “Lizzy!” Elizabeth turned to her left and saw Jane smiling and running to her across the lawn. Behind her stood her husband and his brother and sisters, and Mr. Darcy and another young lady, all of whom were laughing at Jane's uncharacteristic display and following behind her at a more sedate pace.

“Jane,” cried Elizabeth, as she laughingly raced to meet her. They fell into each other's arms while the rest gathered around them.

Mr. Darcy had lost none of his improved manners. Jane introduced the Gardiners and he greeted them very cordially, then bowed over Elizabeth's hand with an affectionate squeeze. She smiled brightly and squeezed his hand in return, bringing his dimples into the open, which she considered disproportionate reward for so little effort on her part.

She felt utterly happy, if utterly nervous. It was that feeling of joy, derived from his pleasure, that convinced her the time had come—she would not leave Pemberley without Darcy knowing that she was resolved to marry him.

Darcy then took the unknown young lady by the hand. “Miss Bennet,” he said, “may I introduce my sister Georgiana? Georgiana, this is Mrs. Bingley's sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Elizabeth was delighted with her—she had expected to find as acute and unembarrassed an observer as ever Mr. Darcy had been, but there was sense and good humor in her face, and her manners were perfectly unassuming and gentle. She was only very shy. Elizabeth again lamented that she had so readily believed Mr. Wickham, for he could not have been more wrong about this young lady.

Mr. Bingley's sisters acknowledged them with only a curtsy, and Mr. Hurst merely nodded. Elizabeth though had expected no more, and observed to herself how there must always be one fly in the ointment.

The Darcys with Jane and Bingley escorted them into the house, where they took some time to refresh themselves in their chambers. Elizabeth was immediately struck by the good taste of the house's owner—the furnishings were truly elegant and in accordance with Mr. Darcy's fortune, but unlike Rosings there was nothing gaudy or uselessly fine. From every window she saw splendid prospects. With a little thrill, she thought of the joys of exploring the house and the park.

When she and the Gardiners returned downstairs, they found Darcy waiting anxiously.

“How do you like Pemberley?” he asked Elizabeth.

“It is lovely.”

“Then you approve of it?”

She put her hand on his arm. “Of course—have you ever met anybody who did not?”

“Lady Catherine does not appreciated the wildness of the place, but in all honesty I never cared. I am very glad you like it though.” He took her hand with an eager smile. “Come, let me show you the library.”

She happily followed along, while the Bingleys and Gardiners lingered behind to join the rest of the party in the drawing room. Darcy pointed out various rooms as they made their way, including one containing several miniatures. Elizabeth was surprised to see Mr. Wickham's likeness. She pointed it out to Darcy.

“This was Father's favorite room and those were his miniatures. I have altered nothing in it since he passed away.” He frowned. “But I really should remove that one.”

“It is only a miniature. It is inconsequential enough—why bother?”

Darcy gave her a thoughtful look. “I have never told you the story of Mr. Wickham's association with my family, have I?”

She shook her head calmly, though she burned with curiosity.

In a warning tone he said, “It is not a pleasant business.”

Elizabeth nodded, and Darcy briefly explained about Mr. Wickham's aborted careers in the church and the law. She was not as surprised as she would have been at one time. He then told her of Georgiana's close escape from the man, and Elizabeth was shocked.

“That is terrible! Has Miss Darcy recovered?”

“She is getting better, but it has exacerbated her innate shyness. I believe your society will be good for her.”

The respect in his voice pleased her greatly. Then she remembered her former opinions of him and felt she had to say something, to apologize.

“He spread lies about you in Hertfordshire.” Darcy gave her a curious look. She took a deep breath and continued, “I believed him at first. I feel horrible about it! I hope you can forgive me.”

“You are not to blame for his lies.”

“But I feel so stupid and naive. I knew nothing about it except that he flattered me after you had snubbed me as not handsome enough to tempt you. I did not figure him out until I got home from Kent. That's when I realized he was just a fortune hunter.” She smirked. “I am very vain.”

He took her hands in his and slowly caressed them. Waves of warmth spread out from her core and she blushed furiously. He said in a low velvety voice,

“Then allow me to feed your vanity, my dear. You are one of the handsomest women I know. Since very early in our acquaintance, I've not been able to look at you without feeling such temptation. . .” He let go of her hands and cleared his throat. “And next time you intend to wear a gown like the one you wore to Bingley's ball, please warn me. I may need a sedative.”

She laughed and then shivered as his gaze darkened. “But sir, am I to give up the advantage of surprise?”

He reached out and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She closed her eyes and sighed, then for the first time felt his lips against hers. She leaned into him for support, and found herself suddenly in his arms. He was strong and solid and she whimpered when he caught her bottom lip between his own. When the kiss was done, she opened her eyes and saw his anxious face—the dear man was worried he had offended her! She said in a voice she hardly recognized as her own,

“We should probably find the library, sir. I have no sedative to give you at the moment, but perhaps we can find you a dull book.”

He laughed, took a deep breath, and led her by the hand into the hall. “Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that Pemberley's library contains any dull books. Merely by its inclusion in such a collection, a tract on irrigation is transformed into a Robinsonade adventure. Just ask Miss Bingley.”

CHAPTER 13

The Pemberley party spent the following days engaged in all manner of pleasant diversions: they toured the park in a caravan of open carriages; they visited the peaks; the gentlemen fished; the ladies shopped or visited in Lambton; they picnicked and played, read and worked.

Elizabeth had never been so happy. Of course the highlight of her visit had nothing to do with tours or games or music—it was that kiss! She remembered it whenever she saw Darcy. She remembered it when she went to bed at night. She remembered it when she awoke in the morning. She dreamed about it.

And whenever she remembered it she felt the warmth that flowed from her very center, and she wanted desperately for him to kiss her again. If they were betrothed. . .

This day Darcy had ridden out very early to visit a tenant. While the rest of the party were in the drawing room or on the lawn playing at croquet, Elizabeth took the opportunity to explore the house on her own. Eventually she made her way upstairs to the gallery and walked purposefully to the large painting of Darcy—Fitzwilliam George Edmund Darcy—that hung in the center of the long wall.

It was a fine likeness. The handsome subject was smiling, much as she had seen him do so often when watching her last year in Hertfordshire. She shook her head and wondered how such a man could have behaved so poorly as to have offended herself and all of Meryton. And how could she have fallen so easily for Mr. Wickham's charms and slanders?

Rather than dwell on such things—hardly pleasurable memories—she thought of Darcy today. She was now convinced that he was one of the best men she knew, of fine honorable character, and capable of deep affections. Generous, educated, witty, clever. And very handsome. She blushed, thinking about his dimpled smile. The first time he made her blush was when she first noticed his dimples. Heavens, what a handsome man!

She turned from the painting and looked out the window at the valley that stretched away to the north. A flash of movement caught her eye—two men on horseback. Darcy had returned! She watched with a flush of pleasure as he and his steward dismounted and left their horses with a groom. Darcy stopped a moment on the gravel path and looked up at the house as though searching for something, and their eyes met. He grinned and waved. Elizabeth waved back just before he rushed inside.

There it is, she thought. The future. It was a feeling she'd had for days since arriving in Derbyshire, and at that moment she felt it more strongly than ever. Her future was with Darcy, and they would have years of happy homecomings just like this.

She heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, and he came into the gallery all smiles and good cheer.

“Miss Bennet,” he took her hand. “A pleasure to see you. Did you enjoy your morning?”

“Very much sir. But I fear I have been unsociable. I've been exploring the house by myself.”

“I do that sometimes. I'm glad you enjoy it too.” He grew suddenly serious. “It was a very happy surprise to see your face in the window just now. It is an experience I hope to repeat many times in the future.”

As he led her to a bench, Elizabeth colored at the similarity of their thoughts. They sat by the window, hand in hand. She gave him her most encouraging look—she suspected that she knew what he was up to, and she certainly did not want him to lose his nerve now!

“Elizabeth, I had not meant to ask you this yet. I wanted you to have more time, I suppose, but it can not be helped.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. He seemed to struggle for words.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly and only with an effort did she not demand that he spit it out!

Finally he said, “Will you marry me? I ardently admire and love you, you mean everything to me. Please marry me.”

“Yes, I will marry you. . . Fitzwilliam.” She felt joy and relief and anxiety all at once. It was wonderful.

His dimples flashed. “Thank you, Elizabeth. You will never regret this. I will spend my life securing your happiness, I promise.”

She blushed even more deeply. Then in a sudden act of boldness that amazed her, she smiled brightly and said, “If you intend to secure my happiness, sir, I suggest that you begin by kissing me.”

He laughed. “Is it to be as easy as that?”

And in a fine display of good breeding, he did just as the lady asked. It began gently but quickly grew more passionate. Her lips parted and his tongue teased her mouth. Hers did the same, tasting him, and she could not fathom the incredible pleasure of it.

When at last they came up for air, she leaned her head on his shoulder and cried, “I love you as well, Fitzwilliam. I am so happy!”

They sat in silence for a few moments until he said, “I suppose we should tell your uncle.”

She lifted her head and nodded. “Yes. Will you write my father?”

“I don't think there is any point to that. You are only to be here another week. I can return with you to Longbourn and ask him there.” He looked suddenly anxious. “Will he be surprised?”

“No, our feelings were obvious before you last left Hertfordshire. That was why he sat with you at the wedding breakfast—he wanted to know the young man I admired so much.” Impulsively she kissed his cheek.

He grinned briefly, then frowned and said, “But you did not always admire me.”

She looked down at their clasped hands. “No, I did not.”

“I am ashamed of my behavior when I was first in Hertfordshire, and even in Kent. I admired you so much—I actually decided to make you an offer back in April—but I never considered the effect of my own behavior. You are not the only one who is vain. I simply assumed you would accept me, I never considered how my selfish, proud behavior would affect your opinion of me.”

She laughed, then said to his surprised look, “That makes me feel better, Fitzwilliam—I have been worried that I may have made an enormous blunder in judging your character. I am glad to hear that you really weren't as wonderful then as you are now.”

He grinned. “I am happy to have set your mind at ease.”

“How did you learn of my former opinion of you?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam told me about the conversation you had the night you were preparing to return to Longbourn from Kent.” Darcy shook his head disgustedly. “I was angry at first, but then I tried to understand it. I remembered your admonitions at Netherfield about my vanity and pride, and a few days later I discussed it with Bingley who was good enough to confirm it all. I am very stubborn, you see, and it took a group effort to open my eyes. Oh,” he cried suddenly, “I must apologize for my Aunt Catherine's behavior—my uncle told me that she came to Longbourn to make demands. I am very sorry.”

“Yes, wasn't that a surprise!” Elizabeth laughed. “I thought you despised me, and here came Lady Catherine to demand I not marry you!” She laughed some more, then asked, “Did she make a similar demand of you?”

He blushed. “Yes, that same night in Kent, after we got back to Rosings. I was in no mood to hear it and we had quite a dispute—as you can see, I also refused her demand. Fitzwilliam and I left the next morning and I have not corresponded with her since. Nor shall I until she apologizes to you. She was very abusive.”

“You can not stay on such terms with your mother's sister. You must have peace in your family.” He put on an obstinate face, so she said, “But that can wait.”

“Actually, you know, we have Lady Catherine to thank for our present happiness. Had I not heard from my uncle that you refused her demands, I might never have had the courage to see you again since I thought you despised me.”

“That's not all,” said Elizabeth. “Her visit convinced me that, contrary to what I thought, you probably did admire me. I was forced to consider what that meant, whether I really understood you, and I concluded that I might have been grossly mislead by my own vanity. So your aunt has been a great help, which should please her as she so likes to be of assistance.”

“I must write and thank her.” They laughed and kissed again and again, until they seemed to realize in unison that they were sitting on a bench in plain view. Darcy cast a suspicious glance up and down the long gallery. “Have you seen any servants recently?”

Elizabeth smirked. “You have a very proficient staff here, Fitzwilliam. They know when to disappear. Come, we had better go spread the good news before it spreads itself!”

They went downstairs to begin their future together.

The End