Page 93 of Regrets

“Nothing has been said, Papa; there is no reason for you to caution me.”

“Nothing has been said,” he agreed, and then added. “Not yet, in any case. But just remember this. You would be in London a good deal, looked at and spoken of, and I do not know how you would like that.”

“On the other hand,” she said, laughing now. “It would give Mama a good deal to brag about!”

“Lizzy, be serious. Do you like him?”

She returned his steady gaze. “I do. I like him very much. I could like him even more, if I thought the sentiment was returned. If I am honest, I did not like him at first, because he reminded me of you. Now I like him, for the same reason.”

With that, she rose, walked around the desk to kiss her father on his cheek, and left the study. She went upstairs to her own room to consider their conversation. She had long suspected that Mr. Darcy was wealthy, truly wealthy, more so than his friend, Mr. Bingley. There was something in the way Mr. Darcy held himself, in his perfectly cut garments, that had first created her suspicions. His sister’s gowns were fashioned of the best materials and cut to flatter her young figure. Even their carriage was finer than anything she had ever seen.

If she married him, she would be far away from everyone and everything she had ever known. Doubtless there would be visits, but that would hardly be the same as having her sisters with her every day. Georgiana would be with her, though, and that would be a comfort.

Doubtless his estate was massive, and being its mistress would be an enormous responsibility, far exceeding anything she had known at Longbourn. Further, there would likely be a good deal of society obligations in London. Elizabeth was not at all certain that she would enjoy being stared at and spoken about, and forced to smile at everyone, and remember the names of Lady This and Lady That.

But overriding everything was the idea that she would have – him. Mr. Darcy. The quiet, private, highly intelligent gentleman for whom she had come to care. She had disliked him at first, but little by little, her feelings had changed. She had not wanted to admit it, but she finally had to acknowledge that she automatically sought him out whenever he was in the room. How he dominated any room he was in, without even speaking a word!

Or, at least, that was how it felt to her, for she had discovered that she must carefully school herself in his presence so that she would not be seen staring at him. Instead, she stole glances at him, and she knew that he did the same, for it was rude to stare and it would be commented on. She wished, very much, to stare and stare and stare, until she had memorised everything about him!

At night, she thought about what it would be like to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair. And she thought about what it would be like to be held in his arms, to be close to him, to have him touch her, kiss her…and despite everything that Georgiana had been through, and the girl’s very evident horror at her experience, Elizabeth wondered very much what it would be like to feel Mr. Darcy’s skin against her own, unencumbered by layers of clothing. She blushed, again and again, and castigated herself for wantonness, but she could not seem to control her wayward thoughts. She confessed them to no one, not even Jane, for she had no words for what she was experiencing.

She reminded herself, again and again, that she did not truly know him very well. The example of her own parents came to her mind, like a black cloud that would not move away. Mama and Papa were getting along quite well just now, but there had been years and years of cold silences and sarcastic observations. She could not bear it if her own marriage was like theirs!

What if she married him, all aflame with these thoughts and feelings, and then discovered later, too late, that they were not a good match? She needed to be careful, to not let her strong inclination for him lead her into a bad marriage.

Chapter Eighty-One

Well aware that Christmas was fast approaching, Mr. Darcy thought he had best make his intentions known to Miss Elizabeth as soon as possible. He could not be away from Pemberley indefinitely; in truth, he had already been away too long. He received daily letters from Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Craddock, his steward, but his father had taught him that the master of an estate must be present as much as possible.

He thought Miss Elizabeth no longer disliked him; in truth, he thought her feelings might have undergone a considerable reversal. But he could not be certain. Thus, it was with a pounding heart that he prepared himself to journey to Longbourn.

“I will accompany you, Darcy; give me but a quarter of an hour,” Mr. Bingley said, upon hearing that his friend was to go to Longbourn.

“I must beg a favour of you, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Anything, of course,” Mr. Bingley replied at once.

“Do you recall when I walked with Miss Elizabeth and held back, at your request, so that you might have some time alone with Miss Bennet?”

“I do, yes,” Mr. Bingley said, comprehension beginning in his eyes and a smile starting on his lips.

“Well, now I ask that you do me the same favour.”

“Ha! I knew it! Well, I will win my wager, at any rate,” Mr. Bingley said, rubbing his hands together.

“Wager?”

“Yes; Mr. Bennet and I just made a wager as to how long it would take you to ask him to allow you to court his second daughter!”

Mr. Darcy passed a hand over his eyes. “Mr. Bennet?” he asked, in a strangled voice.

“He is no fool, Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said. “But he thought it would take until after Christmas, and I said that no, it would surely be before Christmas.”

“See here, Bingley, I am not certain that I approve – no, no, it does not matter. How much was this – no, never mind. Come, let us go.”

Mr. Bingley laughed aloud at seeing his composed friend so obviously nonplused. “Your sister will doubtless want to come as well.”

A quarter of an hour later, the carriage was on its way to Longbourn.