Page 92 of Regrets

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “Your daughters saved my sister’s life,” he said. “These books are in no way a recompense, but it seems to me the right thing to do.”

Mr. Bennet wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I cannot refuse this gift, Mr. Darcy; I shall not even make the attempt. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, and briefly touched Mr. Bennet’s hand, an unusual gesture from this very private man, and then went to sit beside Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had watched her father open the package of books, but had heard none of the conversation. “You gave my father some books?” she asked Mr. Darcy, when he took the seat beside her.

“His books, actually.”

“His books? I do not understand.”

“You know, of course, that your father sold some of his treasures some years ago.”

“I have never been allowed to forget it,” she replied, shortly.

“Well, by some odd coincidence, it happens that I was the buyer of two of them.”

“You!” Elizabeth stared at him.

“Yes; I did not know who the previous owner was, of course, but Mr. Hatchard sent word to me when he acquired them, and I purchased two of them, sight unseen. They were promptly delivered, and they had places of honour in the Pemberley library. When I heard your father’s story, I wrote to my housekeeper and bade her look at the flyleaves of those two books.”

“Papa writes his initials on the flyleaf,” Elizabeth whispered.

“Yes, I saw that when he first showed me his library. When my housekeeper reported back that she saw the initials T.B. on the flyleaves, I had her package them up and send them to me by messenger. I could not trust them to the post, of course.”

“And you gave them back to him! What an utterly marvelous thing to do, Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy with so much admiration that he briefly considered having the entirety of his library packaged up and carried to Longbourn!

Mr. Darcy ducked his head. “Well, it seemed to me that they were his by right.”

“Not at all; he sold them and you paid for them. They were yours by right, but you gave them up.”

“Well, then, they were his by right of love.” With that pronouncement, Mr. Darcy raised his head and looked into Miss Elizabeth’s dark, expressive eyes. He did his best to convey at least some part of his feelings in that manner, and he must have been successful in part, at least, as Elizabeth blushed furiously and looked down.

He pressed his advantage. “And the right of love must surely trump all else, must it not, Miss Elizabeth?”

She looked up, for an instant, and murmured, “I suppose it must,” and then looked down again.

Feeling that he had said enough for now, Mr. Darcy smiled and leaned back.

***

Mr. Bennet saw the conversation between his second daughter and Mr. Darcy, and he wondered at it. Had something been going on between them, right under his nose, and he had missed it?

Once the visitors had departed, he asked Elizabeth to come into his room. She obeyed with alacrity, smiling at him. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so. “Yes, Papa?”

“Mr. Darcy…” he began, watching her face closely.

As he had suspected she would, she blushed.

“Ah,” he murmured.

“There is nothing, Papa,” she protested at once. “But I do think him an admirable gentleman.”

“I must agree, of course, since he not only saved my estate, but also returned my books to me,” Mr. Bennet said. “But, Lizzy, you know that he is very rich, do you not?”

“I had no reason to enquire as to the state of his finances,” she said, primly. Then her face fell. “Very rich, do you think?”

“Yes, I am afraid so. Which does not mean that he will not offer for you, only that your life with him would be a good deal different from anything to which you are accustomed.”