His interview with Mr Bennet was everything surreal and confusing. Darcy had expected a protective father, one who instantly discerned his true history with Elizabeth and accepted his suit as little more than some resolution to the obligation owed the family, but Mr Bennet had baffled him. Clever, the man was, and undeceived from the moment of Darcy’s introduction when he had mentioned that he had first met Elizabeth in London. However, rather than sensing himself thoroughly grilled and chastised, he felt rather like a mouse, battered around by a cat before escaping to safety.
“I hope he did not shock you very much,” Elizabeth apologised when they had an opportunity to speak of it. “Papa can be a touch querulous.”
“He seemed rather fixated on my attire and asked me what I thought of the back of his carriage,” Darcy grunted. “I told him that it looked to be death on wheels for any required to ride on the back, but that I would happily risk such a dare to prove the earnestness of my suit, if a challenge was his intention. He seemed contented with that and granted his blessing.”
“Oh, Papa! He was sporting with you, I am afraid.”
“So I gathered. However, the conversation became more serious a moment later, for we began to speak of libraries. I think I have found one subject upon which your father will speak with unwavering gravity. I believe,” here, he smiled shyly, “that you also will approve of the Darcy family collection, for it has been the work of many generations.”
“Shall I be flattered that you consider my pleasure, or shall I accuse you of excessive pride, sir?”
“Whatever pride I had was dashed the moment I took up your parasol and committed to a day in your service, madam,” he bowed. “You have mended my character, Elizabeth, but I fear it shall want frequent patches.”
“I am to understand that it is my turn to indulge you with the improvements to myself which you have wrought.”
“There can be no alterations,” he squeezed the hand resting in his elbow. “No one admitted to the pleasure of your company could think anything wanting.”
“Oh, you pay your compliments very prettily, sir, which I shall presume as evidence of your improved address, but it will not do. I have long been guilty of judging by first impressions, believing my instincts and feelings to be sound and untainted by the undue oversight of reason. Will you laugh, sir? I thought you the handsomest, rudest, most hopelessly inept footman in all London before I took the time to look again and saw the gentleman beneath the livery.”
“But youdidthink me handsome,” he grinned. “Your insight did not fail you.”
“Mr Darcy!” she laughed, her cheeks crimson. “Perhaps your lesson in humility has not been so well learned as you profess.”
“Indeed, it has. By you, I was properly humbled, but you must permit me to inspire some feminine chagrin from time to time. Your countenance colours and your eyes sparkle most becomingly, my dearest loveliest Elizabeth.”
Her colour did deepen, but for this, she had no saucy retort. She merely tightened her arm through his, and they walked on together through the early autumn woods, the stillness broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves beneath their feet.
“Elizabeth,” he ventured at last, “I spoke with your father about Miss Lydia and Miss Mary, and he has given his permission for me to raise the question with you. Do you believe their situationsmight be improved if they were to come to Pemberley? I would place Miss Lydia at a nearby school for the daughters of gentlemen, or bring on a private tutor if you prefer. Miss Mary may have her choice of situations, for she seems fond of learning. However, she might profit from the company of my sister and Mrs Annesley, and perhaps the benefit will be mutual. Would that suit? It would require more of you, but I felt perhaps it would please you better.”
Elizabeth was biting her lip. “You are kind, William, but you have not met Lydia. You may regret the arrangement.”
He tilted his head to survey her in bemusement. “Your mother I have withstood, and you well know that I have no sources of pride in my own family’s decorous conduct. I believe I will survive. Your father gave his approval of the scheme.”
“For the very compelling reason that he will avail himself of your library while you see to the management of his daughters!”
“A price I am more than willing to pay,” he smiled, catching her eye until she blushed again. “I had also shown him the arrangements I intended to make for your own provision. Has he spoken to you of them?”
Her face became an even deeper shade of precious rose, and she smiled her embarrassment. “He said you were exceedingly generous.”
“It is far less than you deserve,” he replied warmly. “My only regret is that we must wait out a prolonged engagement. I would not taint our marriage with a quick ceremony, and I believe your mother was gratified to make all her arrangements. Moreover, the Countess of Matlock intends to call on you next week. Her support will be exceedingly helpful to you later.”
“You did not mention the additional benefit of the time secured for Mr Bingley and Jane while they act as our chaperons,” Elizabeth smiled and glanced over her shoulder to the oblivious pair walking behind them. “Do you suppose they would even notice if we were to step behind that tree?”
“Elizabeth,” he warned, “the last time I stepped behind a tree with you, I nearly kept you there.”
“Indeed? A pity you did not speak of your difficulty, for I might have comforted you.”
“If you had, my conversation with your father would have gone rather differently.”
She laughed, that artless, joyful music which had first won his heart. “I must ask you, sir, at what point during the day did you first begin to suffer in your affections for me? Was it perhaps during the Italian Walk or as we admired the fountain?”
“I cannot say that it was, although a certain charade of yours stands out in my memory.”
“Which charade was that?”
“When you played the scarlet, drawing the eye and desire of every man including myself. I hope one day you will repeat the performance, but only in the privacy of our own home.”
“I thought you had promised never to speak of that moment again?”
