Darcy resisted the urge to order his cousin to sit. “Have you considered that there are also alternatives if you do not marry?”
Richard turned to face him. “You mean, that I will regret losing her for the remainder of my days?”
Darcy turned a bark of laughter into a cough. Richard smitten was a much more dramatic man that Darcy would have guessed. He tried another tact. “Ask yourself this question. Are you ever going to find a woman who isn’t influenced by your wealth? You will not face this quandary with Miss Lucas alone, but with every woman you meet.”
Richard shook his head in disagreement. “If I pick someone young and naïve enough, she might not be able to hide her true feelings. The trouble is, that is not the kind of woman I want to marry.”
Darcy sought for another angle to break Richard’s indecision. He obviously loved Miss Lucas. He would therefore wish her well, regardless of if they wed. With that inspiration, Darcy said, “Try looking at the alternatives for Miss Lucas. She might marry a widower who wants a good housekeeper. Or a brute of a man, desperate because no woman will accept him.” Richard flinched, though Darcy considered that scenario unlikely. Miss Lucas was too sharp to make that error. Richard required prodding, though, for his own good. He should know the happiness Darcy had found. “She might never marry and be a burden on her family.” He met Richard’s gaze squarely. “You claim to love her, yet you would condemn her to one of those fates on the possibility that she might not love you? Your regard must not be so strong as all that, then.”
Richard whirled toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Darcy asked.
“To propose.”
***
Elizabeth couldn’t suppress a grin as she, Jane and Charlotte alighted from Mr. Bennet’s carriage and started up the steps to Netherfield Park. Jane, of course, was always meant to marry well, but Elizabeth had held little interest in gentlemen before meeting Mr. Darcy, and Charlotte had given up years before Richard Fitzwilliam asked her to dance twice at the assembly. The miracles that were their gentlemen aside, even Elizabeth’s fondest dreams had never aspired to her and Jane wedding close friends, or Charlotte becoming Elizabeth’s cousin by marriage. She could imagine no happier course.
They handed their outerwear to waiting servants and followed Andrews, Netherfield’s butler, toward the large parlor. Elizabeth knew great familiarity with the room from her time nursing Jane at Netherfield, but the chamber no longer held the dread of sharp tongues and boredom. Now, eager steps carried her through the halls.
“Jane, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas.” Mr. Bingley’s voice stayed them. He hurried down the hall toward them with a sunny smile, eyes only for Jane, and offered a bow. When he straightened, he held out a hand to her, which she readily clasped. “I do not mean to break you up before you make your greetings, but there is something I wish to show Jane.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth couldn’t help asking.
Mr. Bingley darted a glance her way. “A, uh, painting she asked about. We located it in the attic and brought it down.”
“I very much wish to see it,” Jane declared, cheeks glowing pink.
Elizabeth did not doubt there was a painting, or that her sister would look on it. She also suspected that Jane and Mr. Bingley desired time alone. Elizabeth’s mother had given strict orders against such a thing. Elizabeth smiled and gestured for Andrews to resume leading the way. As they set off down the corridor, Mr. Bingley led Jane the opposite direction.
They entered the parlor to find it empty of all but Georgiana, who sat at the pianoforte in the middle of a piece far too elaborate for Elizabeth to attempt. She looked over and smiled but did not break off her practice. Her expression of concentration revealed that, even for her, the music was difficult to play. Rather than take any insult at Georgiana’s lack of greeting, Elizabeth was pleased. For the younger woman not to break off to greet them showed her ease in their company, and a proper adolescent disregard for what her brother would say.
“I shall inform the household that you have arrived.” Andrews bowed his way from the room.
Elizabeth didn’t know if they would see the Hursts, who’d spoken of spending time in London before returning for Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding, and who didn’t approve of her, Jane and Charlotte anyway. She would not mind conversing with Miss Bingley, transformed into a genial companion by the attention of Walter Fitzwilliam. Most of all, though, she simply wished Mr. Darcy would appear, the sight of him making the presence of all others melt away.
As she and Charlotte settled on a sofa, Elizabeth observed her joy mirrored her friend and asked, “Is it love or your upcoming marriage that makes you so happy?”
“It is my upcoming marriage to the man I love.” Charlotte offered a contented smile. “Every year my prospects of marrying became dimmer. For the past several years, I’ve been resigned to accepting the proposal of anyone who could support me. Then Richard came along. He is everything I ever wanted in a husband. And he’s wealthy as well. I can’t believe my good fortune.”
“Nor I mine. Not only am I going to marry someone I love, but he is also wealthy. We shall want for nothing and be able to give good lives to our children.”
A teasing light lit Charlotte’s eyes. “Mr. Darcy is very handsome as well.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t going to point that out.”
Charlotte issued a happy sigh. “I don’t hold any envy. To me, Richard’s face is the most wonderful face in the world. I don’t care if he isn’t as well-favored as Mr. Darcy. I like Richard’s face better.”
“What about my face?” a teasing voice asked as Walter Fitzwilliam entered the room, Miss Bingley on his arm.
Charlotte shook her head. “I am sorry, Walter, but I prefer Richard’s face.”
“Well, I prefer Walter’s.” Miss Bingley, arm laced with Walter Fitzwilliam’s, looked up at him through long lashes, aiming her words at him rather than Charlotte.
Georgiana gently closed the pianoforte. “I should hope so.” She arose from the bench and headed toward Miss Bingley. “You seem even more cheerful than usual, Miss Bingley.” She shifted her gaze to Walter Fitzwilliam. “Is there something we should know?”
Miss Bingley offered Walter Fitzwilliam a questioning look.
He patted her hand on his sleeve and turned to Georgiana. “Yes. I have asked Miss Bingley to be my wife. We’re to be married, assuming Bingley holds no objection. We’d hoped to find him here, to seek his approval.”
Georgiana turned back to Miss Bingley. “I am certain he will approve. Let me welcome you into the family. We will be cousins.” Tugging Miss Bingley away from her intended, Georgiana embraced her.
Surprise raced across Miss Bingley’s features, but she returned the hug. “Thank you.”
When Georgiana stepped back, Walter Fitzwilliam reclaimed Miss Bingley’s arm. “We don’t mean to abandon you, but we’re off to search out Bingley. I’m sure my brother and Darcy will be along shortly.”
“Mr. Bingley took Jane to see a painting he found in the attic,” Elizabeth advised, voice bland.
Walter Fitzwilliam offered her a quick grin and led Miss Bingley from the room. Georgiana came over to join Elizabeth and Charlotte, taking a chair to Elizabeth’s right.
Elizabeth turned to her. “It was good of you to be so kind to Miss Bingley.”
Georgiana shrugged. “I can be much more relaxed with her now that she isn’t chasing after my brother or trying to persuade me to marry her brother.”
“She did used to be rather single minded,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Double minded,” Georgiana giggled. “Two marriages.”
Charlotte turned toward the door, expression expectant. A moment later, Elizabeth too heard the footfalls. Strong, even treads. She came to her feet with a smile.
Mr. Darcy entered the room and cross to take her hands. Dimly, Elizabeth knew Richard Fitzwilliam entered as well, and spoke to both Georgiana and Charlotte. All Elizabeth could see was Mr. Darcy
’s find countenance, which no longer held any hint of arrogance to her.
“…in the garden,” Richard Fitzwilliam was saying.
Georgiana laughed. “I know when I am not wanted.”
Mr. Darcy’s head snapped around. “Nonsense. You are always wanted, Georgiana.”
“Almost always,” she corrected. “Wanted or not, it is time for me to study French, which I believe I shall do in the library. Elizabeth, Charlotte.” Georgiana offered them each a smile and headed from the room.
“Yes, well, I suppose Miss Lucas and I shall be forced to walk in the garden alone,” Richard Fitzwilliam said, offering Charlotte his arm.
“I suppose so.” Mr. Darcy didn’t watch them leave, his gaze returning to Elizabeth.
Under his scrutiny, color rose in her cheeks. As if from far away, she heard the parlor door swing shut. “We’re alone.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. A gentle tug of her hands brought her a step closer, nearly into his arms.
She endeavored for a teasing tone, but her words came out a whisper as she said, “This is very scandalous, Mr. Darcy.”
“Is it?” he murmured. “We’re simply standing here. Only our hands even touch.”
“People will think the worst.”
“I would not wish us falsely accused.” A final tug brought her up against him. His arms slid around her. His lips found hers.
Elizabeth knew no concept of time. She could have stayed thus forever, but Mr. Darcy raised his lips from hers to look down into her eyes. Quickened breath sounded about them and she realized they both inhaled and exhaled rapidly. She knew she should be scandalized. She reached up and tugged his head down for more.
Again, it was he who broke their kiss. This time, he took a step away from her, bracing his hands on her shoulders. She knew not if he wished to keep ahold of her or force her to remain at arms’ length.
“Elizabeth, please, you tempt me too far. We are not wed yet.”
A blush stained her cheeks, but she raised her chin and met his gaze. “I would that we were.”
“As do I. Believe me.”
She drew in several long, deep breaths and smoothed the front of her gown. He released her shoulders to take her hand. He led her to a chair and pressed her down to sit, then took the chair beside her.
“Wouldn’t we be more comfortable on the sofa?” she asked, enamored with the obvious effect she had on him.
He shot her a startled look. “You, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, are a hoyden.”
“I never pretended otherwise.”
“I am sure the others of our acquaintance will soon appear, ready for tea. I do not mean for us to be in a disheveled state.”
His tone was very serious, but Elizabeth saw the way his gaze raked over her as he spoke. For a moment, she wondered into how disheveled a state she could entice Mr. Darcy. She’d never felt so sure before as she did when he wrapped her in his arms. Still, she was not truly a hoyden and, as he’d said, they were not yet married. She must gather her resolve and behave in a more proper manner.
Conversation would help, so she turned to the first topic that came to mind and said, “I understood your need to apologize to Charlotte, but didn’t you run the risk of hurting Richard?”
“Yes, there were risks,” he said. “My apology to Miss Lucas was not a selfless act by any means. It made me feel less guilty about my behavior, and hopefully showed you that I am capable of admitting my faults and endeavoring to change. The apology didn’t help Miss Lucas in any way.”
“If I am a hoyden, you are a gambler, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth teased.
“That was a single risk, which does not make me a gambler.”
“As I recall it, you took two risks, sir. You also gambled on whether or not Charlotte truly loves your cousin.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “I admit, that was also a gamble. If I’d learned that Miss Lucas was only interested in Richard’s wealth, then I still hurt her, and an honest apology hurt her more. But she is your dear friend and I believed that, to be such, she must share the sort of honesty and honor you have.”
“Even if she was willing to marry without caring for her husband?” Elizabeth meant to continue their levity, but her mood soured slightly. She did not like to think of Charlotte as having so little integrity.
“Consider what the rest of her life would have been if she never found a husband,” Mr. Darcy said gently.
“I have trouble putting myself in her position, even knowing that if you and I hadn’t fallen in love, I could be.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Whatever she claims she would have done, she didn’t.”
“Which is good, both for your sake and for hers.”
“I would never have forsaken our friendship,” Elizabeth protested.
“As with the truth of Miss Lucas’ declaration, we fortunately need not find out.” He reached to capture one of Elizabeth’s hands, his warm grip dispelling some of her unease. “It is like the duel. The truth came out, but coincidentally, not because of who was the better duelist. Although, in Miss Lucas’ case, honor and self-interest coincided, both for me and for her. There was no dilemma of believing in the process even if it led to a bad result.”
Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. “Did you even weigh losing your cousin’s affection in your decision to confront Charlotte?”
“I did, but I thought more of his happiness should she love him, and I thought of you and your loyalty to your friend.”
“Then I appreciate the risk you took when you intervened. I know you are close with your cousin. It would have been unfortunate if you’d damaged your relationship with him.” She tipped her head to the side, questioning. “You truly felt you must apologize to Charlotte to gain my affection and esteem?”
He turned more fully to capture her other hand, clasping both. “Elizabeth, I have come to realize that I want to be a good man for you. I always thought I would never have to change for anyone.” He grimaced. “I had delusions I was perfect, but I have at least temporarily changed for Georgiana and now I realize I need to continue to become the best possible person for you. Marrying you is not enough. I don’t want you to be dissatisfied with the man you married.”
“How could I be? I love you.”
He pulled her back to her feet and into his arms. This time, Elizabeth broke off their kiss, but only to murmur the words her heart felt. “You’re perfect, Mr. Darcy.”
“No, I’m not,” he whispered back. “But to be worthy of you, I will try to be.”
Epilogue
Forty Years Later
The journey to Rosings took longer than ever, although their actual travel time was less. Neither Darcy nor Elizabeth were comfortable traveling more than a day at a time, and they preferred to make those short days. Sometimes Darcy wondered if Elizabeth exaggerated her discomfort to give him an excuse to stop for, in his eyes, she’d hardly changed from the girl he’d met in Hertfordshire, nearly a lifetime ago.
Several switches occurred between carriages and trains, each train of a different gauge. The changes were eased by a stay at an inn or with someone for whom they cared. One such stay was with their younger son and his growing family. Another was with their only daughter, who lived in London with her husband and three children. Catching up with both friends and business kept them in London for weeks.
But eventually, they journeyed on. Darcy and Elizabeth both looked forward to their visit at Rosings, even if reaching there proved momentous. The burden fell on them, for Richard was seventy and found travel very difficult. The older he got, the more the wounds of his youth troubled him.
They arrived to find Richard now walked with a cane for even a few steps. Charlotte, as lovely as ever, greeted them with an ease of movement her husband no longer had. Like Elizabeth, she’d aged well. Now, no one could say if she was pretty or not, her face a collection of lines, but to Darcy she would always be beautiful. Beautiful as his friend, as an intelligent, diligent, shrewd steward of Rosings and, most of all, beautiful as the
woman who’d shared with Richard a lifetime of steadfast happiness and love.
They retired to a small front parlor, one Lady Catherine had never deigned to use, but which filled with welcome sunlight. After initial inquiries about family were answered, Richard said, “You know, today is the fortieth anniversary of the duel.”
“Is it?” Elizabeth asked. “I’d forgotten.”
“I prefer to remember the anniversary of the assembly.” Charlotte reached for her husband’s hand. “Just think, if I had been beautiful, I would probably not have been lucky enough to marry you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Richard said.
Mimicking Charlotte, Elizabeth reached for Darcy’s hand, where he sat beside her on a sofa. “Darcy and I will both argue with you over which of the four of us is luckiest.”
Darcy shook his head, always ready to disagree with his wife…on the little things. “No, I will not make that argument today. Instead, I will point out that if I hadn’t been a tactless idiot, I might never have had my luck.”
“Hadn’t been?” Richard gestured at Darcy with his cane. “You speak as though you still aren’t. I saw you eying this when you entered.”
“Only because he’s considering one for himself.” Elizabeth offered Darcy a sweet, teasing smile.
“Be careful, Lizzy.” Charlotte’s tone held equal amusement. “Canes are all the fashion. Sometimes bad comes with good. Another woman might try to steal him away.”
Richard snorted. “No woman’s been able to catch Darcy’s eyes since the moment his gaze settled on Elizabeth. In this instance, I do not believe we need to worry about bad coming from good.”
“As this is the anniversary of Mr. Collins’ duel, we should be more focused on good coming from bad,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I think we can all affirm that sometimes good results from bad actions.”
This met with general agreement. Darcy leaned back on the sofa to listen as Elizabeth and Charlotte began a comparison of grandchildren. Where he sat beside Charlotte, Richard dozed, head drooping against his chest but one hand still resting on the top of his cane. In his other, he held Charlotte’s.
A Duel in Meryton Page 24
