Upon entering the drawing room with his daughter, Mr. Bennet studied Mr. Darcy. He had high hopes that he would like the young man. However, as Elizabeth clearlywasin fact in love once more, it was necessary to make his own judgement of the gentleman.
At least Mr. Darcy had killed Mr. Wickham, andthat, despite a generalized distaste for duels, inclined Mr. Bennet even further in his favor.
Mr. Darcy immediately looked towards Elizabeth upon their entry. He let out a relieved sigh on seeing Elizabeth give him a reassuring smile.
George—what a delightful, perfect little fellow—immediately ran to his mother, and started talking about Mr. Darcy, Georgie, and asking if he could go out to the park.
That young boy really was quite perfect.
Certainly, he had some of Wickham’s look about him, of course. But while Mr. Bennet had no intention of abandoning his long-established dislike of the man who’d stolen his daughter and then abandoned her merely on account of him being dead, George was chiefly Elizabeth’s in his mind. The boy’s face in fact reminded Mr. Bennet a great deal of the face he saw every time he looked in the mirror.
While George was being promised that he’d be able to go to the park, just in a minute, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet looked at each other.
That young gentleman met Mr. Bennet’s gaze with a steady confidence.
Good.
Also, Mr. Bennet liked that the young man had looked towards Elizabeth immediately, and that they seemed to communicate easily without words.
Mr. Bennet sincerely hoped this trial of the married state would go better for Elizabeth than the first had.
As soon as George gave her a chance to speak, Elizabeth said to Mr. Darcy, “Papa wishes speak to you in private before he gives his blessing.”
Mr. Bennet raised one finger. “No, no. Tell Mr. Darcy the actual state of the situation; I wish to speak to him todecideif I shall give my blessing.”
“It shall come to the same thing,” Elizabeth laughingly replied.
Elizabeth still laughed easily.
Mr. Bennet was glad for it. His dear girl had changed greatly.
With Jane he had been there for the whole process, and even so it still often shocked him to see her as the beautiful young, kind, and elegant woman she had become. But to see Elizabeth as this determined, confident, and beautiful young lady when in his memory she was still a coltish, enthused, and awkward girl—one day, probably the day before yesterday, she had been a tiny creature running about his yard and sitting on his lap to beg him to explain what the weird books with the funny letters said.
And then yesterday she was gone.
But now, she was here, and she was no longer a child. Not in any way. She was a woman full grown.
There were lines to her face. She had confidence. And when she lacked confidence, it was the uncertainty of an adult. Mr. Bennet had hoped to tell her that she did not need to solve her problems alone. Her father would help her.
And he would.
But she was the one who must be responsible for her own life.
Mr. Darcy stood up shakily. “To the dining room then.”
Elizabeth hurried to Mr. Darcy’s side and took his arm. “Let me help you.”
There was a flash of a frown across Mr. Darcy’s face, then he looked down at Elizabeth’s concerned face, sighed and smiled at her with some warmth.
Miss Darcy came to Mr. Darcy’s other side, but he refused his sister’s additional aid, saying, “I must exercise a little.”
They walked out of the room, with Mr. Bennet trailing, and then across the hall to a dining room with a large table and stiff wooden chairs around it.
Mr. Darcy sank into one of the dining chairs. His legs shook as he lowered himself. He started rubbing at his chest.
Elizabeth immediately grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “No.”
And Mr. Darcy grinned at her and with a smile like a child’s and theatrically put his hand under his leg.
