Page 36 of A Prudent Engagement

Mrs. Bennet started weeping again, and Mr. Gardiner held her while she did so. All of Elizabeth’s sisters also began crying.

Elizabeth did not.

When Mr. Darcy entered the room, his eyes immediately went to hers.

Rather than flushing or doing whatever else was proper for a girl being gazed upon by her beau, the numbness in Elizabeth’s chest began to crumble. She remembered the stories that she had told Mr. Darcy about her papa, and a lump rose in her throat.

No, not here. Not in front of everyone.

Elizabeth made a hasty excuse to Mary and Miss Long, whom she had been speaking with, then hurried out of the drawing room.

Her lips pressed together. She was desperately trying not to cry in front of everyone like her mother seemed prone to do.

Mr. Goulding was in the hall, coming in to join his wife, and he stopped to offer Elizabeth an extended speech upon how great her loss was, how wholly he sympathised with her, and how he would miss Mr. Bennet exceedingly, even if he had never really understood the gentleman’s tendency to read too much.

Elizabeth feared her face would crack at any second.

Mr. Darcy’s resonant voice cut across the speech, “Miss Elizabeth needs air. You look pale.”

“Oh, she does!” Mr. Goulding exclaimed. “But that is only natural. You know that—”

“I shall accompany you to the garden,” Mr. Darcy said, then turned to Mr. Goulding. “Go in and give your condolences to Mrs. Bennet. I shall accompany Miss Elizabeth until she feels better.”

Without waiting for the gentleman to agree at length, Mr. Darcy confidently took Elizabeth’s arm and led her away.

Elizabeth simply felt grateful to Mr. Darcy for having given her such an escape. He was—for a reason she did not really understand—the one person in the world in front of whom she was not afraid to cry.

He had been peremptory and commanding in his dismissal of Mr. Goulding. At a different time—when she had been a different person—his manner would have proved how abominable Mr. Darcy’s arrogant and frustrating character was.

She had reached the vestibule before the tears started.

Mr. Darcy led her out, his strong hands almost caressing her arm.

They went into the garden, and Elizabeth guided them away from the area that was overlooked by the drawing room. As soon as they had turned the corner of the house, the sobs burst out again.

Mr. Darcy held her against his chest as she cried, “I shall never see him again!”

“Never,” he agreed softly.

His words made Elizabeth sob harder, but she needed to cry.

He was tall, solid, warm, and comforting. The top of her head did not quite come up to his chin. Elizabeth did not feel at all odd letting him hold her in such a manner.

What he said ought to have been exactly the wrong thing to say, but it was what she needed to hear. He did not seem to be made anxious or uncomfortable by her tears.

That was what made Elizabeth able to cry in front of him; he simply saw it as her natural right to weep in such a situation.

When her tears finally ceased, he handed her yet another of his handkerchiefs to wipe her face. Elizabeth laughed a little. “You must think me ridiculous with how much I have cried of late.”

“No.”

She stepped slightly away from him and used her hands to smooth her dress.

His eyes were fixed on her.

“I must thank you…that…you have…”

That awkward awareness of their situation came fully into Elizabeth’s consciousness. She had a sense of them being poised on a precipice, and an anxious feeling filled her stomach.