Page 167 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“I am reasonably certain Clover will not like to be stomping his way over the countryside,” Mr. Bennet warned.

“We plan on keeping pace with him in my chaise so Elizabeth can reassure him often.”

“B…but that will take—”

“A fortnight, yes,” Darcy said.

“Good Lord,” Mr. Bennet muttered.

Darcy drank down his whiskey in one swallow. After a pause to recover from the strong drink, he said, “I promised your daughter I would return to the assembly before the dinner dance, sir. Might I trouble you for your answer? May I marry your daughter?”

Mr. Bennet released a tired, disheartened sigh. “I shall miss her immensely, Darcy.” He rose and held out his hand. Darcy rose and took it. “I have no objection to you marrying my dear Lizzy. I could not have parted with her for an ordinary man, Darcy, for no ordinary man would deserve her.”

“I shall strive every day to deserve your daughter’s love, sir, I swear it.”

“Very well, you had best be off so you might keep your promise.”

“Thank you, sir,” Darcy said, shaking his hand firmly. “Be assured that you will be welcome at Pemberley whenever you wish to visit.”

“I shall take you up on that assurance,” Mr. Bennet said. He gestured to the door. “I will see you out.”

“We plan on marrying in June, sir,” Darcy explained when they reached the front door.

“That will give me eight and a half months to say goodbye,” Mr. Bennet mused. “And yet, it will not be enough time. Oh, well. I shall get used to the idea.”

“I hope so, sir,” Darcy said, donning his hat and gloves offered to him by Hill.

“So do I. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

Mr. Bennet waited until the door closed before he slowly returned to his bookroom to finish his whiskey.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Lizzy peered about the assembly hall for her beloved Mr. Darcy. When will he come? She felt a hand in the small of her back and started.

“Fear not, it is only I, come to take you onto the dance floor,” Mr. Darcy said, leaning close to whisper in her ear.

“If you do not stop doing that, everyone will note your extremely particular attentions,” Lizzy warned, turning out of his touch to curtsy. “Now, you bow in a most correct way.”

Mr. Darcy obediently bowed and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. “The set is forming. Let us take our places.”

“What did Papa say?” she begged in a whisper, her stomach in knots.

“Your father very morosely agreed to our betrothal.”

Lizzy moaned softly. “Morosely? Oh, poor Papa.”

“He does not think eight and a half months sufficiently long enough to say goodbye to you,” he murmured as he arranged them into their places in the square-formation of an old-fashion cotillion.

“We will invite him often to Pemberley, if that is acceptable to you?” she asked while curtsying.

“Of course,” he said, straightening from a bow. “I told him as much.”

“Fitz-darling,” she whispered through tight lips, taking his hand for the next dance steps.

“You are my dearest heart,” he replied, clasping it lightly.