Page 95 of Regrets

He raised her gloved hands to his lips and kissed them both. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I could not be happier!”

“Mr. Darcy, I ask one thing,” Elizabeth said. She spoke quickly, knowing that her courage would fail her if she waited too long.

“Anything,” he vowed.

“I need to know your true character, sir. I hope that you will not disguise yourself in any way in the coming days.” She spoke in a rush and then stopped.

‘Ah,’ he thought. ‘Her parents.’ He spoke aloud. “I understand. Very well; you have my word. I shall not disguise myself in any way.“ He hesitated, and then added, “I like both your parents very much; I hope you understand that the disappointment and fear that have gripped them these many years can alter the best of characters. Things might have been very different had the entail not cast such a long shadow.”

‘He understands,’ she thought. ‘Better than I do!’ She nodded and said, very softly. “Thank you.”

Chapter Eighty-Three

It seemed to Elizabeth that the courtship did not alter her daily life. The Darcys and Mr. Bingley still visited nearly every day. Neither Jane nor Elizabeth were permitted to be alone with their gentlemen, so a good many walks were taken, with each couple serving as a chaperone for the other, though Mary was usually sent along as well, to make certain that nothing untoward occurred.

The only difference seemed to be in the sort of conversations she and Mr. Darcy had together. She needed to understand his character; she also needed to understand what her life would look like as Mrs. Darcy. She asked a good many questions, and he answered them without hesitation.

She learned that he was a very responsible landowner, and that the well-being of his tenants and servants was nearly as important as the well-being of his sister. He seemed to know all of their names and their histories, and he occasionally stopped walking to draw diagrams in the dirt with a stick, showing her where certain tenants lived.

The rector had written to Mr. Darcy to ask him to fund a school for the tenant children, and Mr. Darcy had readily agreed. Plans were being made even now to put an addition onto the church to house the school. “He is waiting for me to return to approve the plans,” he told Elizabeth.

“You have been gone a long while,” she observed.

“I have, yes,” he said, after a brief pause.

“My fault, I suspect,” she said, attempting to sound gay.

“Not your fault, of course not; my own fault, for having delayed apprising you of my feelings for so long,” he replied.

“Why did you?” she asked.

He laughed. “Because you did not like me; do you not recall?”

Face burning, Elizabeth said that she did indeed recall, and then added, “Well, then it is my fault after all. I regret that, Mr. Darcy. It was about my father, of course, not about you at all! But I must add that a good memory is unpardonable when it comes to romance. That particular period must be forgotten at once.”

He chuckled and agreed.

***

One day, she said, “Will you tell me about George Wickham?”

His face became grave. “I had rather not.”

“I would very much like to know,” she said, softly. “My sister killed a man; I would know more about that man.”

“I will only say that he was a danger to all young women.”

“If that is the case, then it seems to me that Lydia did England a favour.”

“She most certainly did!”

“She suffered for it, did you know that?”

“Suffered?”

“Yes; for all of her careless and headstrong manner, she does have strong feelings. She put the best possible face on it in front of everyone, but she rather fell apart later. We told her that she was a heroine and she should henceforth be known as Lydia the Bold. Jane even embroidered a pillow for her, with Lydia the Bold sewn on it!”

“Her actions were heroic,” he insisted. “I had never imagined that a young lady could do such a thing.”