Page 88 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

"Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet said without looking up. "I assume the high-pitched screaming indicates you have brought a guest. Or a circus bear."

"A Viscount, actually," Darcy said, closing the door.

Mr Bennet looked up over his spectacles. "Ah. That explains it. My wife has a specific frequency for the peerage." He leaned back. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were in London, avoiding Meryton's society."

"I was," Darcy admitted, taking the chair opposite. "I failed."

"Evidently." Mr Bennet studied him. "You look cold, Mr Darcy. And you look determined. It is a dangerous combination."

"I have come to ask for your permission, Sir. To court your daughter."

Mr Bennet's brows rose in question. "Which one? I have five. Though I assume you mean Elizabeth. You spent enough time staring at her in November to bore a hole in her skull."

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy confirmed. "I wish to court her. With the intention of marriage."

"And the Viscount?" Mr Bennet jerked his head towards the door. "Is he just decorative, or is he after one too?"

"He wishes to court Miss Bennet. Jane."

Mr Bennet raised an eyebrow. "Two of them. Efficient. Who is he?"

"He is my cousin, Robert Fitzwilliam. Viscount Keathley. He is the son of the Earl of Matlock."

Mr Bennet's expression shifted. A slow, dry smile spread across his face. "Matlock? Henry Fitzwilliam?"

"You know the Earl?"

"We were at Cambridge together," Mr Bennet chuckled. "He owes me five guineas from a bet involving a goat and the Dean's wig. I never thought I would see the day his son would be in my parlour asking to court my daughter."

"Robert is... spirited. Like his father."

"And you?" Mr Bennet's gaze sharpened. "You are not spirited, Mr Darcy. You are proud. You are wealthy. And a month ago, you fled this county as if we were infectious. Why the change?"

"Because I was wrong," Darcy said without flinching. "Yes, I was proud. I was arrogant. I thought your family and this society beneath me. I was wrong. Your daughter has awakened me, Sir. She makes me want to be a man worthy of her respect."

Mr Bennet watched him for a long moment, and saw the honesty in the younger man's face and the lack of pretence.

"Her stubbornness can put a mule to shame," Mr Bennet warned. "She has opinions. Endless. She will argue with you, constantly."

"I am counting on it."

"And she is currently in London, hating you. Or so I gathered from her last letter."

"We have reached an understanding. A truce."

"A truce?" Mr Bennet laughed. "Well, if you can get a truce out of Lizzy, you are doing better than most."

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the snow.

"You have my permission to court her. And the Viscount has permission for Jane. But—" He turned back, his face serious. "I will not give my blessing for marriage."

"Sir?"

"My daughters are not parcels to be traded between Cambridge acquaintances. If you want to marry them, they must come to me. They must tell me themselves, that they wish it. I will not have them pushed. Not by their mother, and not by two wealthy men in expensive riding boots."

"I would have it no other way," Darcy assured him. "I do not want Miss Elizabeth's hand unless she gives it freely."

"Good." Mr Bennet sat back down. "Now, go away. I suspect my wife is currently trying to measure your cousin for wedding clothes. You should probably rescue him."