Page 176 of Near Pemberley

“Why then?” she cried, pressing a hand to her chest.

“He has come about Elizabeth.”

She stared first at her husband, then at Darcy. “Elizabeth?”

“Mr. Darcy has done us the honour of asking for her hand.”

Mrs. Bennet gave a little gasp, swayed alarmingly, and before Darcy could quite comprehend what was happening, she had seized both his hands.

“My dear Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed, trembling with excitement. “You cannot know – oh! – you cannot know how happy you have made me! Dear Lizzy.”

Darcy, who had faced Wickham without flinching, found himself quite unable to defend against an emotional Mrs. Bennet.

“Madam… the honour is entirely mine.”

Mrs. Bennet would hear no talk of departures. “Mr. Darcy, you have travelled all the way from London in your condition. You shall do no such thing as leave before you have taken some refreshment.”

“Madam, I assure you…”

“No, no. You have assured us of quite enough for one day.” She turned immediately towards Hill. “A proper luncheon. Cold ham, the raised pie, cheese, fresh bread, and seed cake. And wine. Mr. Darcy certainly requires wine.”

Darcy glanced helplessly towards Mr. Bennet.

Mr. Bennet looked perfectly content.

“I have found it best to surrender gracefully.”

By the time luncheon was announced, Jane, Mary and Kitty had joined them, curiosity plainly written upon both their faces.

Mrs. Bennet was positively radiant.

“Girls, sit down. We have the happiest news imaginable.”

Jane looked immediately towards Darcy, then at her father.

“Has something happened?”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy has asked for Elizabeth’s hand, and, for reasons best known to herself, she has accepted him.”

Jane gasped.

“She truly has accepted you?”

“Yes, Miss Bennet, she has. She most emphatically did.”

“Of course she did! Who in her right mind would refuse a gentleman with ten thousand a year?” Mrs. Bennet

“Mama!”

Darcy and Jane shared a look.

“Then I am very happy for both of you.” Jane smiled. “Mama, I am sure Lizzy accepted Mr. Darcy for other than his riches. Is that not so, Mother?”

“Yes, yes. You are right, of course. Mr. Darcy is most handsome – and tall.”

Darcy’s composure survived the declaration, though the faint colour rising at his temples betrayed its cost. He bowed gravely to Mrs. Bennet.

“You are very kind, madam.”