Page 55 of A Prudent Engagement

Elizabeth pressed his hand.

Jane continued to watch them, the corners of her mouth turned down.

It made Elizabeth frown. She whispered to Mr. Darcy, “May we go for a walk? We have been inside for hours waiting for Mr. Collins. This crowd is too great for my comfort.”

“There is nothing I would like more,” he replied. He then enquired of Mr. Phillips how long would be required before the contract was in a fit state to be signed.

At being told that it would be more than an hour, Mr. Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth.

Her mama insisted that they be accompanied by some of Elizabeth’s sisters, but fortunately Jane did not wish to be among the party.

Elizabeth felt Jane’s constant observation as a constraint. She could not laugh or smile freely when Jane watched her. Her eldest sister’s presence made her imagine herself to be villainous rather than a happy and blushing bride.

That Mr. Darcy had just rented their family home for them to remain in—or for her sisters and mother to remain in, as she was to go to the fabled land of Pemberley—made the sensation greatly worse.

In ten minutes they were out on the road to Meryton, accompanied by Mary, Kitty, and Lydia.

Instantly Elizabeth became happier, and she smiled at Mr. Darcy and said, “You have decided to play the part of a great dispenser of gifts.”

Mary, walking alongside them, said, “I am most grateful as well. I had been concerned that Mama would make us move to a house where we could not keep the pianoforte.”

Darcy replied, “My sister likes little more than the pianoforte. Perhaps when you meet, you will find that in common.”

Mary smiled. “I would like to be her friend.”

“Also,” Mr. Darcy added, “if you ever have any need of additional masters or books of music or the like, simply apply to me, and I shall happily ensure you can acquire them.”

Elizabeth’s sister nodded and grinned at him with more cheerfulness than Elizabeth was used to seeing from Mary.

“The great dispenser of gifts,” Elizabeth repeated.

“Of course I am. There is nothing a gentleman likes more than to know that he has wiped wrinkles and worry from the forehead of his beloved.”

Elizabeth laughed.

Mr. Darcy had shown such pleasure in making the offer to Mary, and Elizabeth liked seeing his smile so much that it was impossible to feel discomfort at being the recipient of his kindness.

She said, “I liked the way that Mr. Collins instantly became more amenable when you named the price—do say that you did not offer him more than you ought to have to satisfy him.”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I previously negotiated what I would offer with Mrs. Collins. It is a reasonable sum but not excessive—the inheritance of a substantial estate, even if one has been brought up to the scope of living allowed by it, naturally produces a substantial change in how one understands the value of certain sums of money. I suspect that Mr. Collins still chiefly imagines his income and expenses as scaled to that which he can afford as the rector of Hunsford—perhaps not even that, as he has been in the position for less than a year, and his previous resources must have been far less.”

“I wonder how marriage to you will change my sense of such things,” Elizabeth replied. “At present your wealth seems unfathomably large, yet I know that it has its limits.”

“As does that of everyone, including the Prince Regent himself. In fact, he runs into those limits with far greater frequency than most men of modest resources,” Mr. Darcy replied. “The chief point is to know our limits and to remain safely within them.”

“A responsible gentleman.” Elizabeth leaned farther into his side, smiling. “I like that.”

Mary said, “It is very much my consideration that the young gentlemen of our generation often do not take matters of prudence and responsibility so seriously as they ought to.”

“So I have often read and heard,” Mr. Darcy agreed solemnly.

Elizabeth’s smile widened.

As they reached Meryton, Mrs. Forster, the wife of the militia colonel, ran out from the inn where her husband kept his rooms. She shouted to Lydia, who walked with Kitty somewhat ahead of the other three. “My dear Lydia! Lydia! You’ll never believe it! Mr. Wickham has fled! They say he owed many debts, beyond five hundred pounds in total, to the officers and a great deal more to the tradesmen round about.”

Lydia shrieked in despair. “Not our Wickham!”

“It is true! And I can no longer think well of him. Bilking the tradesmen is only natural—they are all greedy—but he undertook debts of honour that he could never pay back.”