Jove and deuce.
Mr. Bennet felt a piercing sensation. He was about to lose Elizabeth once again, forever. Part of him had always believed she would one day need to return to him when she went away with Wickham. And he’d been almost right.
They liked each other.
And their connection was not like the stupidity of Mr. Wickham’s flamboyant charm.
Elizabeth frowned at the way Mr. Darcy sat in the chair. “This will not do at all. Not for any duration of conversation.” She went to the bell pull and when the particularly young maid who’d conducted him to the drawing room appeared a minute later, Elizabeth said, “Sally, have the footmen bring one of the divans and a footrest across from the drawing room for Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young girl looked inquisitively at Mr. Bennet, clearly curious about the father of Mrs. Wickham.
“Now, now,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Off with you.”
Upon the girl disappearing, Elizabeth said to them, “She’s still quite young. She does not yet know how to watch us while making a pretense of having a total disinterest in the doings of Quality, but I like her. I think we shall keep her when we leave—Darcy, you do not mind?”
Mr. Darcy had been studying Mr. Bennet, while supporting himself with his arms on the table, rather than relying on the muscles in his stomach and back. He glanced towards Elizabeth, “Oh, Sally? What would you mean for her to do? I do not think she has enough experience yet for a lady’s maid.”
“No, not that. I think I would make her a nurse for the children. She has more than half served as one the past weeks. And she likes to be useful, at least when she knows how. And she can learn. That is the chief point. And I’ve talked with her enough to know that she would be happy to go elsewhere as an adventure. I will, though, teach her to read.”
Darcy nodded. “If one takes on a servant as a project, it is unkind to abandon them later. But you know that.”
Elizabeth laughed and smiled at him. “Thank you for both your sage advice, and your awareness that it is not necessary.”
The footmen bustled in, moving the table slightly aside to make room for the sofa.
With help from Elizabeth to stand up, Mr. Darcy sat on the sofa and reclined in a way that he clearly found easier to manage. Mr. Bennet sat in one of the dining chairs.
After she smiled at them both, Elizabeth left the room.
Now it would be his chance to see what Mr. Darcy was made of.
The two gentlemen studied each other for half a minute before Mr. Darcy said, “Elizabeth has thought a great deal of you. I am glad that you came.”
“Even though it was to insist that she not marry for material considerations?”
“I wish to see her happy.”
Mr. Bennet felt that pain again. He was going to lose her again.
When he had not said anything else in response to that, Mr. Darcy asked, “What do you wish to know about me? Do you wish to have any confirmation about my estate and family connections? Or some additional knowledge about my character?”
“Elizabeth has said a great deal in praise of your character,” Mr. Bennet replied smiling. “All of it praise. And though, in general, I disapprove of duels, I cannot condemn you on that basis. I dare say that I would have fought a duel under such circumstances as you did and I cannot help but be pleased by the outcome.”
“Elizabeth has told me of how her feelings are often torn about the matter. But I have a duty to only feel the ill effects. One does not gain the right to kill a man merely because his death will be useful to others. Even if the consequences are good, the act was wrong. It will always be a stain on my soul.”
“And what does that mean to you—that it shall be a stain on your soul. Those are pretty words, but just words. Action speaks louder.”
“Yes. A man should be judged by how he behaves, not what he says,” Darcy agreed. “I do not know what I can do—I have, at your daughter's advice, donated a great additional sum to several orphanages. But that is—I cannot buy absolution. I can only live better, kinder, and in a way that does more to make others happier. And I must never again do such a thing—yet, were something of that nature to happen again…”
“With your daughter perhaps?”
“I do not know. I do not even know what I hope that I would do.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “To not be certain about yourself is far more praiseworthy than to be confident, yet wrong.”
“That is my view of the matter.”
“Mr. Darcy, I am confident that you have more than enough wealth that my daughter, and her children would wish for nothing. That is not a concern. What I wish to know is this: Why do you want to marry Elizabeth?”
