“Oh, ho,” Mr Bennet said, amusement clearly written on his face. “What is this?”
“Miss Elizabeth is not like the simpering women of the ton. She has never hesitated to tell me what she thinks of me or my behaviour. In Kent, I offended her. She did not hesitate to inform me how I had misunderstood her, among other matters, and she pointed out my shortcomings. However, we have since clarified those misunderstandings, and she has accepted my proposal of marriage.”
Darcy watched as Mr Bennet raised his brow—so like his second daughter—at these words. “I have a feeling there is a story there.”
Darcy nodded. “There is, but I will not tell it unless Elizabeth wishes it.”
“You make very free with my daughter’s name,” Mr Bennet protested.
“She has given me permission to address her informally, and, as I have said, we will marry. The only question that remains is whether we will do so with or without your blessing.”
Mr Bennet exhaled through his nose, something almost like reluctant amusement in it.
“She may stay here,” he said abruptly. “Your sister. If Philips has not yet found you a house, Miss Darcy may occupy our guest chamber until your wedding—or until you secure suitable rooms. You, of course, cannot.”
“Of course.”
“And as for my blessing…” Mr Bennet rose at last, coming to stand opposite him. “I do not pretend to like this matter being rushed. Nor do I relish surrendering my daughter to a man who still appears as haughty as ever, however much you claim to have changed.”
Darcy did not flinch outwardly, though inwardly he wondered whether the man intended to deny him.
“But,” Mr Bennet continued, with a long, assessing look, “I have always preferred a man who knows his own failings to one who denies them. You appear determined to deserve her.”
“I am.”
Mr Bennet held his gaze a moment longer—measuring, weighing.
“Very well,” he said at last, and something in his tone had changed. “You have my blessing, Mr Darcy. Heaven help you both.”
For the first time since Elizabeth had left the room, the tightness in Darcy’s chest eased, but he kept his expression unchanged, relying upon long practice to betray nothing.
“I shall endeavour to deserve both her and it, sir.”
And for the first time since Elizabeth had left the room, Mr Bennet gave him something that resembled genuine respect.
Nine
When Elizabeth and her uncle returned to the drawing room, Mr Gardiner had seated himself a little apart from the young ladies speaking quietly together in one corner. With a glance at her uncle—who gave a small smile and waved her towards the others—Elizabeth crossed to join Mary, Kitty, and Georgiana, content simply to listen while the younger girls continued their conversation.
Mrs Annesley sat with them, her knitting lying neatly in her lap as she observed the girls with quiet attentiveness. Although she appeared to be listening closely, Elizabeth did not think she had spoken in several minutes. As Elizabeth approached, Mrs Annesley looked up and offered her a gentle, knowing smile before returning her attention to the conversation.
Jane was still upstairs with their mother, along with Aunt Gardiner, and Elizabeth found herself wondering idly when either of them might return.
She was therefore pleased when her intended returned before too much time had passed. Elizabeth was not entirely certain what Fitzwilliam had intended to discuss with her father when she and her uncle had left thebook room, but she trusted him and would not trouble herself over it at present.
Somewhat to her surprise, Mr Bennet followed Fitzwilliam into the room and seated himself beside Mr Gardiner, the two gentlemen exchanging a few quiet words together.
The moment Fitzwilliam entered, Elizabeth rose and crossed the room to join him. They sat beside one another on a settee in one corner of the room, their joined hands hidden from notice beneath the folds of her skirt, and for a moment neither spoke.
“What did you and Papa speak of?” Elizabeth asked after a brief silence, no longer able to contain her curiosity.
“I asked for his blessing to marry you,” he said, pressing her fingers lightly when she would have spoken. “I know it was not necessary—not entirely—but I cannot imagine you would have wished to marry without it. He balked at first, but I reminded him you were of age and that his permission was not required.”
“And he gave his blessing on our marriage?”
“He did. Perhaps grudgingly, but he eventually recognised that to do otherwise would have the opposite effect of what he intended.”
Elizabeth felt a small warmth settle in her chest at this. Her father’s blessing and permission were not needed, and given how argumentative her father had been, Darcy was not obligated to even ask. Still, she was glad he had obtained it.
