Page 45 of The Widower of Pemberley

Darcy stepped close, moving slowly, wishing to give her an opportunity to step away if she wished to—he did not knowwhyhe was so cautious, since she had already agreed to share every intimacy with him.

Instead of drawing back she tilted her face upwards, her mouth meeting his for a soft kiss.

His lips tingled, and Darcy smiled widely when they pulled back.

“Till I return.”

She put her hand over her lips, and he could not tell whether she was smiling or not. But he thought there was a smile in her tone when she said, “I look forward to it, Mr. Darcy.”

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth returned to the drawing room more cheerful than she had been since that awful morning when she had watched her father collapse insensible.

To be kissed was a pleasant thing, and it left a lingering impression upon the lips.

Elizabeth rather wanted to do it again.

Unanticipated.

When she returned to the drawing room, Mr. Collins remained seated. He frowned at her then turned his attention back to a book that he studiously stared at, turning the pages infrequently.

It did not escape Elizabeth during the evening that her mother hoped to press him towards Kitty or Mary as consolations. If Mr. Collins took to either of her sisters, she would speak privately with them, and with Mr. Darcy, to make certain they knew very well that the family need make onlyonemarital sacrifice at present.

But such concerns were currently superfluous, for Mr. Collins maintained a stiff and withdrawn manner—different from what he had shown at any previous time during his stay. Not one speech about Lady Catherine de Bourgh! Not one discourse upon proper conduct! And he did not once in the whole evening reiterate his offer to perform any of the rites that were required of a minister of the Church of England.

Mayhap his determination to find the companion of his future life from amongst his lovely cousins had faltered.

Mrs. Bennet brought out excellent wine to toast Elizabeth, lit many candles, and instructed the cook to prepare a fine ham for dinner. She ordered dishes that were Elizabeth’s particular favourites and said again and again, “Oh, my clever, clever daughter! You have saved us! God has been very good.”

That dinner was the first time they had all sat around the table since her father’s apoplexy. It was not right to cheerfully drink while he lay alone in the bedroom with only a maid seated next to him so that they all would know immediately if he needed help.

Or if he died in an instant.

Elizabeth saw the expense of the meal in the way that Mr. Darcy might—not the arrogant way that she at first imagined him seeing their table, as a display of their relative poverty and inability to afford something greater: “You describethisas a celebration? Anyone who is anyone sets a better table.”

No, what she saw was them burning their dowries in candle smoke, eating them away in fine cooking, and serving them away by having twice as many servants as the house needed.

How strict would the required economies have been to set aside sufficient money?

Elizabeth supposed that the answer must be a matter of shade and gradient. A little economy practised over twenty years would have been enough to make their lives easier when her father died, but a great deal would have needed to be cut if they wished to set aside substantial dowries for five daughters.

After dinner, Jane begged to speak to Elizabeth before she went to sit with their father.

They went into Jane’s room and sat next to each other on the bed.

Jane frowned when she turned her clouded eyes towards Elizabeth. “I fear, that…you mean to marry Mr. Darcy for my sake. You must not. You know you must not.”

“Jane—”

“I am wholly serious! We can survive on two hundred a year. You are too anxious at present to think clearly upon the matter. You always wish to care for me, and that is very kind. But you must not sacrifice your happiness. There are a great many people—the vast majority of England—who live on much less than we shall have if Papa dies.”

“Not blind women.”

“Lizzy, that is not true. By far the greatest number of blind women in England survive upon less money.”

“When they survive at all! You have seen—you remember the picture they make! Ragged, smelling, starving, sitting in the market square with pots they jingle. The beggars, the useless, those who once could stand with dignity amongst the great productive classes of England and who now must beg for money because they cannot pursue their professions. The way that they are easily taken advantage of by those who pretend to help them. Poor people sent to the workhouses—you cannot mean to say that you would rather go to a workhouse instead of me marrying Mr. Darcy.”

“I might say that. Affection in marriage is an important thing. You have said nothing about affection. I listened this whole day hoping to hear the word. All I know about your sentiments towards Mr. Darcy is that you were incensed due to his insult of Charlotte and that you like his sister and daughter.”