What Would Mr. Darcy Do?

Chapter 8

“Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar! You have no idea what has happened,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You must come and make Mr. Darcy marry Lizzy!

“Mr. Darcy! Madam, I doubt I could make Mr. Darcy give me the time of day, if he were not so inclined, so I would hesitate to believe that I could make him marry anyone, least of all Lizzy, for whom you have always told me he has had the greatest indifference!”

“Nonsense, how can you talk so! You take delight in vexing me! They are just now in the garden together, and, oh, Mr. Bennet, what shall we ever do?”

“You may tell him from me, madam, that he has my full permission to be in the garden whenever he chooses, and that should put an end to the matter!”

Unable to contain herself, Mrs. Bennet cried in vexation. “You have no compassion for my poor nerves! And what shall become of poor Lizzy?”

The subjects of the conversation chose this moment to make their appearance, having overheard the previous remarks. Darcy, with his most correct social manner covering what to Elizabeth was obviously repressed laughter, bowed most correctly to his hostess. “Mrs. Bennet, a pleasure to see you again. And do I recollect that this is your sister? It has been far too long, madam.” Without allowing time for anyone else to speak, he turned to Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet, would it be possible for me to speak with you privately regarding a matter of some importance?”

Mr. Bennet looked him up and down. “Well, Mr. Darcy, I cannot imagine what you would have to say to me that would be of any import, but you are welcome to join me in the library, where it is certainly much quieter. I understand you have already taken a tour of the gardens.”

Darcy cast Elizabeth a look of amused apprehension as he disappeared with her father. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her mother.

“Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “How could you do this to us! Have you no regard for my nerves? You will disgrace us all!”

Lizzy pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I am sorry to hear that. I certainly hope that any disgrace of mine will not dissuade Mr. Darcy, since we have only just become engaged. He is asking my father for my hand as we speak.”

The effect of this communication was quite extraordinary, for on hearing it, Mrs. Bennet found herself quite unable to utter a syllable. She managed to recover herself under the excited ministrations of Mrs. Philips, and expressed herself in such a tumult of joy as to make Elizabeth exceedingly grateful for Darcy’s absence. She could not give her consent, or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings.

“Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh, my dear Lizzy! Pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me, I shall go distracted.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy, what can I do for you today?” asked Mr. Bennet.

“Sir, I would like to ask for the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Darcy said formally.

“Ah, yes, Lizzy. A bit overdue in approaching me, aren’t you?”

“Your daughter can be difficult to convince, sir.”

“By you? Not that I would have noticed, Mr. Darcy. But no matter—the question is why are you asking my consent?”

Darcy paused, puzzled. He had thought his request perfectly clear. “I would like your consent to marry your daughter.”

“Yes, yes, you want to marry Lizzy; that shows fine taste on your part, if a certain degree of disregard for your own peace of mind. But I fail to see where I come into this.”

“Sir, I do not have the honor of following your meaning.”

“Well, then, Lizzy has told me she plans to marry you with or without my consent, so it seems that there is no need to ask it, is there?”

“Your daughter says a good many things, Mr. Bennet, but she does not speak for me; I would like to have your consent.”

“You would like that, would you? And will it stop you if I fail to give my consent?” Mr. Bennet asked affably.

Darcy steepled his fingers and was silent for a minute. “No, sir, it will not.”

“Then it certainly seems to be a waste of your time and energy to be debating the issue with a difficult old man!”

Darcy was beginning to understand the source of Elizabeth’s playful sense of humor. “Possibly, sir, but I consider it good practice for dealing with your daughter.”

“Point taken, young man. So, why should I give you permission to marry Lizzy? I believe we can skip over the discussion of your material prospects, and I am willing to take your tender regard for her as a given.” Mr. Bennet sat back, clearly relishing the discussion.

“Among other things, it would improve your family harmony; I speak from experience when I say that Miss Elizabeth can be quite stubborn when she sets her mind to it, and she seems to be quite set on marrying me.”

Mr. Bennet waved this away. “I am quite accustomed to dealing with familial disharmony.”

“Perhaps then you should speak to your wife. She seems to feel that I have compromised your daughter, and as such, I obviously should marry her.”

“Oh, ho, so that is how the land lies, is it? Is there something you ought to be telling me about?”

Darcy leaned forward, and said with great deliberation, “Only this, sir, that I am prepared to sit here and argue this with you all day and all night if need be, until you give your consent simply to be rid of me.”

The two stared at each other. Finally Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Very well, young man. I see you have enough mettle to handle my Lizzy. You have my consent.”

“I thank you, sir, and I believe you will have no cause to regret your decision.”

“Well, we shall see, I would imagine.”

Darcy found himself not quite ready to quit the battlefield without having fired a shot of his own. “Sir, I do have one question.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I understand from my friend Bingley that he found asking your permission to marry Miss Bennet a simple and straightforward procedure. This seems rather different from my experience. Perhaps you might explain this to me.”

“You are not reticent, sir! Very well, if you wish to know, when Jane brings home a puppy dog, I pat its head. When Lizzy brings me a full-grown wolf, I handle it differently.”

Darcy inclined his head. “I see we understand one other, sir.”

“Yes, yes, and I am sure you would rather be spending your time with Lizzy than with me, so be off with you!”

“Sir.” Darcy stood and gave him a very correct bow before leaving.

He found Elizabeth awaiting him anxiously in the drawing room. “Well?” she asked.

Darcy sank gratefully into a chair. “There are thousands of fathers in England who would be delighted to have me ask for their daughter’s hand.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “He was difficult, then? Did he give his consent?”

“Yes, he was difficult, and yes, he consented, though only after I had threatened him with family discord, loss of reputation, and holding him hostage. Apart from that, it went quite well.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You should probably feel complimented; he is truly only difficult when he has a positive view of a matter.”

“Did you really tell him you would marry me with or without his consent?”

Elizabeth blushed. “Does that shock you, sir?”

He gave her a sidelong look. “Terribly. I believe I shall require a great number of kisses to recover from the experience.”

“Fortunately, I believe that you know where to find them, sir,” she said.

“Your perception astonishes me, Miss Bennet,” he said, rising to move behind her chair. As she looked up at him, he bent to give her a series of slow, gentle kisses.

“Is that better, Mr. Darcy?” she asked archly as he released her mouth.

“Not yet.” He proceeded to feather a series of kisses behind her ear, traveling slowly to the nape of her neck which had so enticed him when he first saw her in the vineyard earlier. She shivered as he moved his lips ever so slowly along the length of the back of her neck and the soft skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, and felt a need she could not understand growing within her. Darcy could clearly sense her growing tension, and when he finally allowed his mouth to approach hers again, they met with a deep hunger that could not be denied.

The sound of laughing voices raised in lively conversation began to intrude, and Darcy jumped back, straightening, just before the room was invaded by Georgiana, Kitty, and Mary. Georgiana stopped short when she saw her brother, then rushed to embrace him. “Fitzwilliam! I did not expect to see you so soon! What a lovely surprise!”

“You are looking very well. Your visit seems to have agreed with you, my dear,” he replied.

“I have had the best time! You know Mary and Kitty, don’t you? We have had such fun. Mary likes to practice a great deal as well, and we have been helping each other with our music, haven’t we, Mary? We’ve prepared a new duet that I think you will like.”

“I am very glad to hear it. Georgiana, would you care to greet your new sister?”

Georgiana’s eyes grew wide. “Lizzy!” she squealed, throwing her arms around her. “At last! Oh, I’m so happy for you both! I’ll be so glad to have you as a sister. It will feel like getting a whole family of sisters,” she said, glancing at the others.

She continued to chatter on to Darcy about everything she had done during her visit, with assists from Mary and Kitty. Darcy gave Elizabeth an inquisitive but not displeased look as he took in his sister’s altered behavior.

As dusk was approaching, Darcy, whose good temper was starting to fray from the social demands of the Bennet family, took the opportunity to ask Elizabeth to walk out with him, which she gratefully accepted. They were mostly silent as they walked; after all the emotions of the day, Elizabeth felt more agitated and confused than happy, and Darcy found he had much to think about. At the top of a rise which would afford a view of the upcoming sunset Elizabeth led them to a small arbor with a rude bench carved from a fallen log. She settled herself and invited him to do the same.

“Georgiana seemed in a remarkable mood this afternoon,” Darcy said thoughtfully.

“I had been under the impression she tended to be quiet and shy, but we have seen very little of that here, to say the least. Of course, I have not spent as much time with her as I expected, since she and my sisters have been so taken with each other—to the benefit of all three, I might add—but she has been quite talkative and playful since she settled in.”

“That is indeed remarkable. Although she was quite animated as a child, after our father died she seemed to become more serious, and since the events of last summer, has been somewhat withdrawn as well. Perhaps she needed to escape from all the reminders of the past.”

She considered this. “I think the company of girls her own age is helpful as well. Perhaps she tried too hard to be an adult before she is ready. She also spoke to me about Wickham at one point; I was impressed with her insights into the situation.”

“I confess I am relieved to hear she talked to you about it; I have worried she keeps too much of her feelings to herself.”

Elizabeth smiled. “She worries about you, as well. I think she may be feeling relieved she can turn over the task of worrying about you to me.”

“Shall you worry about me, then?” he teased.

“I am certain the occasion will arise at some point.”

He shifted closer to her and gathered her to him so her back rested against his chest. She leaned her head back against him, enjoying the comfort of his closeness.

“Have you thought any further about the question of our wedding?” he asked, playing with her fingers.

Elizabeth sighed. “A little; it is confusing, though. There is much to be said for next week, yet at the same time I know how much needs to be done before I could leave Longbourn… it is an intimidating concept. There are many farewell calls I will need to make, as well as all the preparations for moving.”

“Would you prefer to wait, then?”

Elizabeth hesitantly asked, “Would you mind terribly if I did want to wait until after Jane’s wedding?”

He gently kissed her hair. “My love, as long as you marry me, all else is unimportant.”

“Thank you for understanding. So, Bingley could be willing to be imposed upon to delay their trip a week—perhaps we could accept that offer and marry just before they leave. It would need to be a small, simple service, but I am not sure I would not prefer that in any case.”

“I would much prefer it that way, if I have a say in the matter. I have spent enough time dreading just standing up with Bingley.”

She leaned her head back to look up at him in puzzlement. “Why would you dread that?”

“I always dread being in large gatherings of people—had you not noticed?”

Elizabeth shook her head as she took his words in.

“I always thought it must be embarrassingly obvious how I feel—I speak to no one, I attempt to stay as far away as I decently can, I leave as soon as I can—I would rather be any place in the world, as long as there are fewer people there. I confess I am surprised you did not know.”

Suddenly a good number of things began to make sense for Elizabeth. “I had noticed you kept somewhat apart, but I am afraid I quite misinterpreted it.”

“Pray, how did you interpret it, then?” he asked with some amusement.

Elizabeth found she would really much rather not tell him that she had thought him exceedingly proud and disagreeable. “That is of no matter, now that I understand better.”

“No, now I am curious as to what you were thinking, my sweet Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and gave a sigh. “I fear it does not reflect well on me, although I suppose it should be no surprise that I misconstrued yet one thing more about you. Very well, I thought you felt we were all beneath your notice.”

Now it was Darcy’s turn to look surprised. He said slowly, “I suppose it is little wonder, then, that you thought me so arrogant.”

Hearing a degree of pain in his voice, she hastened to add, “But that was only when I first knew you. Your behavior at Pemberley showed me you were nothing of the sort, and I never saw any evidence of it in Kent, either, now that I think on it.”

“You never saw me in a large gathering at Rosings or Pemberley. You may feel differently when you have.” His voice was guarded.

She turned to face him. “I shall feel no differently at all,” she said, and to punctuate her statement she raised her head and brushed her lips lightly against his.

As she withdrew, he immediately placed his hand behind her neck and drew her back to him for a much deeper, more lingering kiss. As they broke off, he said somewhat ruefully, “This may be a very long two weeks.”

Elizabeth found herself with an unwontedly serious reaction to his comment. In two weeks he will be my husband, she thought. In two weeks, we will be alone together and he will not stop with kisses. She felt a peculiar lurch deep inside her at the thought of the unknown. Before Darcy could note her change in mood, she said lightly, “Patience is a virtue, Mr. Darcy.”

“One I am afraid I do not possess when it comes to you, my dearest,” he said. “But you still seem averse to calling me by my name, even when we are alone.”

Elizabeth laughed. “And do you not know why, Mr. Darcy?”

“Please enlighten me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “As you wish, Fitzwilliam.”

A familiar light ignited in his eyes as he reached out to trace his finger across her lips and the line of her jaw. He smiled slightly as he shifted to allow her to lie in his arms. Elizabeth’s breath caught as he slowly bent his head to capture her mouth. His tantalizing kisses distracted her from her purpose, and she gave in to the temptation to taste the pleasure he offered.

After a moment, though, she laid her fingers over his lips, and smiled mischievously up at him. “Do you still wish to know why I do not use your name? I have noted it seems to have a most peculiar effect on you, much as it just did. But I promise you, when we are safely married, I shall call you by it frequently.”

He thoughtfully nibbled her fingertips, causing Elizabeth to feel a distinct loss of interest in discussing the matter any further. He noted to himself that it was true that, during the many times he had imagined her calling him by name, it was often in one very particular setting, with a particular response on his part. A slow smile came over his face. “You are a very wicked woman, Miss Bennet,” he murmured. He began placing excruciatingly light and slow kisses on the soft, uncovered skin of her shoulder, while whispering, “Very, very wicked.” By the time he had found his way to the sensitive hollow at the base of her neck, Elizabeth had given up any pretense of resistance, and allowed herself to tangle her fingers in his hair in encouragement. He continued to enjoy tantalizing her until her rapid breathing and arched body became too much for him, and their mouths met hungrily.

He lifted his face to allow her to meet his passion-darkened eyes. “Say my name, Elizabeth,” he commanded softly. Shaking her head playfully, she attempted to pull his head back to hers. “Oh, no, Miss Bennet,” he murmured. “No more kisses for you until you say it.”

She raised her eyebrow. “I am very wicked,” she said with a playful smile, and began reciting his name as rapidly as she could, with an inflection of mirth. With a mock glare, he nipped lightly at her neck, causing a squeal and fit of laughter. They smiled contentedly into one another’s eyes, enjoying the game, until without warning the lighthearted moment shifted into a more serious one of deep attraction and desire.

Darcy slid one hand to her head, allowing his fingers to caress the silky curls he had longed to touch for so long. His thumb traced circles on her temple, and his breathing became shallow as he watched her eyes darken and her lips part. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, making the syllables of her name into a caress.

“Fitzwilliam,” she responded, her voice warm with passion. “Oh, Fitzwilliam.”

It was far too close to his fantasies. He tried to assert control over his response, only to realize he had left it too long. He tasted her mouth, first lightly and then with burgeoning passion that stole away his senses. He knew that he must withdraw, but his lips would not cooperate and began to explore downward along her neck, then lower to the tender skin exposed by the neckline of her dress where he was not supposed to even allow his eyes to rest. He was even further inflamed by her gasps as this new sensation built in her to an excruciating tension.

Afterward Elizabeth would wonder what part of her had finally responded to her spiraling desire with a sense of panic that made her push him away. For a moment, Darcy looked at her uncomprehendingly as she withdrew from him, then he rose and took several rapid strides away from her. Facing away from her, he gripped one hand against a tree and stood in tense silence, staring unseeingly across the countryside.

Elizabeth also looked away, sobered by what had happened, and even more so by the realization of how far she had allowed her behavior to stray. How had it come to pass that she was allowing, nay, participating in the liberties he had taken? What was it about Darcy that tempted her to flout every rule she had ever known? She looked up to see him framed against the sunset, his unmoving form still in the attitude of painful tension. It hurt her to see him so, far more than she could explain to herself, and she realized the true question she should ask herself was how she came to love him so much that nothing else mattered.

“Mr. Darcy?” she said gently. Without turning, he held his hand up in a clear request that she desist. She bit her lip, not knowing how best to address his current distress, her own concerns forgotten in her apprehension for his. She waited briefly, then spoke his name again.

“Miss Bennet, please be so kind as to allow me to finish castigating myself before you take your turn; you may rest assured I am doing a very thorough job of it.”

Hearing the bitterness of his words, she recognized what she was witnessing was similar to Georgiana’s description of another time when he failed to meet his own strict standards. She saw this was where she would need to begin thinking like a wife, for she would certainly need the capability to handle these situations in the future. Georgiana had indicated that offering sympathy was not productive, so a different approach was required. A thought occurred to her of how to draw him out of himself. “Perhaps what I am lacking, sir, is not an opportunity to castigate, but to receive comfort,” she said.

He stiffened visibly, and for a moment Elizabeth thought her words had only served to make him blame himself yet further; then he approached her and, kneeling in front of her, took her hands in his. “Forgive me, my dearest; I was selfishly thinking only of myself, and not of you. Thank you for drawing my attention to the obvious.”

She gave a slight smile. “Thank you for listening.”

“Elizabeth, I shall always come when you ask, and no doubt more often than you would wish! Please do not distress yourself over what happened; it should not have happened, but given that it did, we can only remember that in two weeks we shall be man and wife, and none of this will matter.”

She squeezed his hands. “It has been a rather emotional day, has it not?”

“Indeed,” he agreed, “and I am sure that we are both somewhat overwrought at this point. I will not allow it to happen again.”

“For two weeks.”

“Yes,” he said with a smile, “For two weeks. Then you must take your chances. But I note that the light is fading fast, and we should be returning to the house.”

As he stood and moved to offer her his arm, she gave in to impulse and embraced him. In the circle of his arms, she thought to herself that perhaps her instincts would not serve her so ill with him after all.