She pushed the door open to reveal the Gardiners conversing with their guest. “Hello, Lizzy,” said her uncle. “Your father has just arrived.”
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth’s expression suggested that she had not expected to see her father in the Gardiners’ drawing room. Darcy was scarcely less surprised. Mr. Gardiner must have sent Mr. Bennet an express immediately after the events of the previous day for him to have arrived so speedily.
“Papa!” Elizabeth hesitated on the threshold for a moment, throwing a strained look over her shoulder at Darcy, but there was no escaping their fate. Then she rushed forward to embrace her father.
As she vacated the doorway, Darcy became visible to the room’s occupants. Mr. Gardiner started, glaring at Darcy with his fists clenched. Mrs. Gardiner gave him a cold look full of contempt. When Elizabeth’s father released his daughter, he viewed Darcy with the enthusiasm one would greet an unexpected rash. His expression suggested that, had he been younger, he might have challenged Darcy to a duel.
Darcy could hardly blame them. He would feel the same in their place should he be confronted with a man who had treated Georgiana in such an infamous manner. He had made a grievous error in judgment and was supremely fortunate that Elizabeth seemed inclined to forgive him.
Elizabeth seated herself on the sofa beside her father, but Darcy remained hovering in the doorway, unsure if he would be invited to sit. However, invited or not, he owed everyone an apology. Darcy took a deep breath. “Mr. Bennet, I must beg your pardon for the insult I offered to your daughter.”
The other man raised an eyebrow. “Why beg my forgiveness, Mr. Darcy? Apparently, you have Lizzy’s.”
Elizabeth colored. “Papa—”
Darcy wanted to snap at the man for causing his daughter such mortification and reminded himself that his own actions were responsible for the current situation.
This could take some time; Darcy seated himself without waiting for an invitation. “Miss Bennet has been quite generous in forgiving my misjudgment,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “I feel very fortunate to have made progress in securing any measure of her good opinion.”
“Misjudgment?” Bennet growled. “That is a pretty word to describe laying your hands on her person.”
Darcy narrowed his focus to Elizabeth’s father, stifling the impulse to bark out an angry retort. Digging his nails into the palms of his hands, he chose his words carefully. “I have made what amends I can. I have made her the offer of my hand.”
Bennet leveled a gaze at him. “Forgive me if I do not believe your word is worth much.”
Gardiner gasped. It was quite an insult, but Darcy managed to conceal his flinch. The man was justified in his anger. Bennet continued, his voice trembling, “I understood you gave your word to your cousin to marry her.”
How had that rumor reached Hertfordshire? “I have no understanding or engagement with my cousin. My aunt wishes such an alliance and speaks of it as a settled matter, but neither Anne nor I wish to marry.” He allowed his disdain for the idea to show on his face.
Bennet was holding himself very still, one hand clutching the arm of the sofa. “So I am to believe that you would actually marry Elizabeth?”
Darcy took a deep breath through his nose; he always struggled to control his temper when his honor was impugned. “I have said that I would.” He flashed a glance at Elizabeth’s stony face. “If she will have me.”
Bennet stiffened. “You have not accepted his hand?” he said to his daughter.
“No,” she responded. Darcy had to admire her sangfroid. In the face of her father’s disdain, most other women would have felt the need to justify such a decision and pleaded their right to delay an answer. But if she had been any other woman, Darcy would not have wanted her with an almost physical ache.
Bennet’s countenance showed no surprise at her response; he must know his daughter well. However, he continued to glare at her. Many fathers would blame their daughters for what had occurred in the garden, although the wrongdoing had been on Darcy’s part. It was the way of the world to blame the woman in such situations. Hopefully Bennet was not of that ilk. Unease prickled along Darcy’s spine. What if her father berated and belittled her? How could Darcy protect her from her own father?
“She must marry him,” Gardiner said to Bennet. “Surely you see that.”
Bennet gave his brother a venomous look. “I do not see that. I would prefer to risk scandal than have my daughter marry this blackguard.”
Darcy’s hands clenched at the insult, although he admired Bennet’s insistence on ensuring his daughter’s happiness. Bennet directed his glare at Darcy. “You have proven how unworthy you are of Lizzy. Fortunately, she has shown superior judgment in refusing to bow to your attempts to force the matter.” He stood, addressing the room at large. “Well, this may be easily arranged. I shall pay off the servants and take Lizzy home to Hertfordshire with me. Then we may forget the whole, sorry business.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Darcy. “And you, sir, will never come near Longbourn or Lizzy again.”
A fist squeezed Darcy’s heart, making it hard to breathe. His encounter with Elizabeth in the park had helped to lift some of his black despair, but now her father threatened to separate them forever. Darcy’s eyes flickered to Elizabeth, who was frowning at her father. Was it because she did not believe his plan was feasible or because she did not wish to leave London—and Darcy? How he longed for it to be the latter, but her expression revealed nothing.
The Gardiners both stood as well; their nervous, jerky movements betrayed doubts that the matter was as easily solved as Bennet believed.
Darcy remained seated. “There is the matter of Wickham,” he drawled.
The Gardiners immediately sat, but Bennet slowly turned his head to Darcy, fixing him with a baleful stare. “Ah yes, Wickham. The man to whom Lizzy would be engaged if not for your interference.”
“That would be a grave mistake,” Darcy said, struggling to keep his voice level. “I would do anything to prevent Eliz—Miss Bennet from an alliance with Wickham. He cannot be trusted.”
Bennet’s eyes narrowed further, and he folded his arms over his chest. “And why is that?”
Darcy was not about to reveal Georgiana’s shame to a group of near strangers. “The matter is private, although Miss Bennet knows the story.”
Bennet snorted. “So we are to take your word that the man is a reprobate, although the evidence suggests you are the one who cannot be trusted?” Darcy flinched at the accusation.
“I believe his story; Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted,” Elizabeth said quietly.
All eyes turned to her. “What lies has he been telling you, Lizzy?” her father asked.
She lifted her chin. “I know the story, and I find it credible, but I am not at liberty to discuss the particulars.”
The back of Darcy’s neck was moist with sweat. The Gardiners knew Georgiana had visited Elizabeth; would they make the connection that she was the one who had changed Elizabeth’s mind about Wickham? Would they guess why? He had not foreseen that consequence of allowing Georgiana to visit Gracechurch Street.
Bennet threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “So I simply must accept your word for it?”
“Do you have any reason to believe my word is suspect, sir?” Elizabeth asked with an arched brow. Only at that moment did Darcy realize she was trembling in anger.
Bennet sat, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. “He has turned your head somehow, Lizzy. Is it his fortune? I would not see you wed to a man you could not respect—no matter how many carriages he can buy you.”
Elizabeth shot to her feet. “I did not realize you held such a low opinion of my judgment!”
Father and daughter glared at each other for a moment. “Are you saying you wish to marry the man who has treated you so abominably?” Bennet asked, standing to look his daughter in the eye.
“I am saying,” she said slowly and precisely, “that I w
ould like to know Mr. Darcy better to ascertain whether I would like to accept the offer of his hand.”
She is magnificent. Despite his anxiety over the situation, Darcy could not prevent a swell of pride.
Bennet was as still as a statue for a moment. Then he reared back. “Absolutely not! Have you forgotten that we all know he is a difficult, unpleasant sort of man with the devil’s own pride? I will not give my daughter to such a man.”
“But—”
“Not under any circumstances! And certainly not under these!” he thundered.
Elizabeth’s face had grown quite pale, and Darcy studied it carefully for future reference. This was how she appeared when she was hot with anger. “I am not yours to give,” she said through clenched teeth. “I am my own.”
Bennet blinked. He struck Darcy as the kind of father who rarely exerted his authority in the family. Apparently, he had not expected such defiance from his daughter. More the fool he.
He grabbed Elizabeth by the upper arm, tugging her toward the door. “We may discuss your authority on the way home to Longbourn.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp and backed away, wide-eyed like a cornered animal. Darcy realized he was on his feet, apparently ready to defend her even from her own father.
“I do not wish to return to Hertfordshire as of yet,” she said.
“I will not permit you to remain here,” Bennet said in a low voice. “Your uncle will not keep you if I say no.”
Elizabeth started, her eyes darting from her father to her uncle. But then she muttered, “Very well.”
Darcy’s heart sank. Given time he might be able to win her affection, but once she was at Longbourn, her family could forbid her to see him.
Her father nodded approvingly. “I am pleased you have seen rea—”
“I am not finished,” Elizabeth spoke over him. “If I may not stay at Gracechurch Street, I will remove myself to Darcy House to visit my friend Miss Darcy.”
Stunned silence followed this pronouncement.
Elizabeth turned her fierce stare on Darcy. “If I am welcome, Mr. Darcy?”
Inwardly, Darcy was dancing with joy at the prospect, although the anger in her face was a bit alarming.
“Of course,” he responded immediately, thinking through the ramifications. Would Mrs. Annesley be a sufficient chaperone for both Elizabeth and Georgiana? Should he ask his aunt to visit as well?
“I assume you have secured a special license?” she asked.
This is unexpected. Darcy’s heart beat faster. “Y-Yes, I have,” he stammered. Events were proceeding at an alarming speed, and it was somewhat disconcerting not to be the one putting them in motion. But he had no interest in objecting; he would get what he wanted.
“We could be married tomorrow,” she said in flat voice, looking at her father.
Darcy’s eyes widened. Perhaps he would not need Mrs. Annesley after all. “Indeed,” he responded, trying to not to smile.
Bennet regarded Darcy with narrowed eyes. “You would actually marry her tomorrow?”
Darcy was getting tired of answering this question. “I have a special license, and the priest at the parish church is available to perform the ceremony.” He folded his arms over his chest, boldly returning the other man’s gaze. He did not like the way Bennet had questioned his honor, but even worse, he had upset Elizabeth.
Bennet’s eyes traveled back to his daughter, who stared at her father, tightlipped and defiant. For a long moment nobody said anything. Finally, Bennet threw his arms in the air. “Very well. If you wish to remain at Gracechurch Street, then remain!” he growled, throwing himself back on the sofa. “But I shall remain as well.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Papa. I would prefer to have some time to consider Mr. Darcy’s offer.”
Darcy quelled a pang of disappointment, telling himself it would be worth the wait if they could marry with her family’s approval.
Now that much of the tension had leaked from the room, Bennet eyed Darcy with half a smile. “Are you certain you want her, Darcy? You see what a troublesome creature she can be.”
Darcy’s eyes remained fixed on Elizabeth’s face as he responded. “Indeed, I am quite certain. I long for nothing more in the world.”
She smiled at him, and his heart stopped.
***
Mr. Darcy had departed. Dinner had been eaten, and the evening port had been consumed. Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle had just bid everyone good night. Elizabeth was alone with her father for the first time that day.
He had been reading the newspaper, but now he was just staring into the dwindling flames of the fireplace. The silence was thick and uncomfortable.
“Are you very angry with me, Papa?” she asked.
His head shook slowly. “Mostly I am angry with myself for pushing you into such defiance.” He chuckled. “I should have known better. You never take the easy path.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I suppose not.”
“When I received your uncle’s letter, my only thought was to come to London and rescue from that dreadful man.” He rubbed his face with a weary hand. “It did not occur to me that you did not wish to be rescued.”
He did not intend his words as a barb, but Elizabeth winced nonetheless. She rose from the settee and seated herself on the ottoman opposite her father’s chair. The fire gently warmed one side of her body while the other grew cooler.
Her father spoke before she had a chance to gather her thoughts. “I did not realize you held Mr. Darcy in such high esteem.”
Elizabeth blinked. It was true that her opinion of the man had changed considerably in only a day. The last twenty-four hours had been a wild ride. “I did not initially, but I have since learned that much of what we know of him is a lie.”
“But what of his cruelty toward Mr. Wickham?”
Elizabeth stared at the fire, choosing her words carefully. “I spoke with Miss Darcy. While I am not at liberty to disclose the substance of that conversation, suffice it to say, she made it clear that Mr. Wickham is by no means a respectable man. I am quite happy I dissolved our engagement.”
“And you trust the story?”
Elizabeth thought of Miss Darcy’s trembling hands and broken voice as she told her tale. “I do.”
Her father leaned forward, taking both her hands in his. “If you were deceived by Mr. Wickham, then I was as well.”
Elizabeth bowed her head. “It was horrifying to learn how wrong I had been.”
“It must have been quite a blow.” Her father stroked her hair gently.
“My judgment has been quite flawed.” Her stomach did a sickly lurch as she recalled exactly how flawed. “That is why I ask you to give Mr. Darcy a second chance.”
“Do you plan to accept his offer, then?” he asked, his brow creased with concern. Somehow the past day had aged her father.
Elizabeth bit her lip, worrying a ring on her finger. “I plan to make no decision immediately. I believe I was overly hasty in accepting Mr. Wickham.” And she had nearly ruined her future. Elizabeth could not help but be grateful to Mr. Darcy for preventing such a disaster.
“I intend to take the time to become familiar with Mr. Darcy. However, my opinion of him has improved upon further acquaintance.” Her eyes met her father’s. “The same may happen with you.”
He squeezed her hands. “Perhaps. I will try to become further acquainted with him.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
***
Caroline Bingley sniffed disdainfully at the bench before removing a handkerchief from her reticule, wiping the offending object, and gingerly taking a seat. Her gown was most expensive; she would be quite vexed if it was soiled.
She was not particularly fond of the out of doors, but if she must be exposed to the elements at this time of year, she should at least be in Hyde Park where the company was congenial. Unfortunately, today’s rendezvous could not be witnessed by anyone she knew, so she was forced to wait on this miser
able scrap of land near the river.
And, naturally, Mr. Wickham was late again. She fumed in silence for several minutes, watching every passerby eagerly in hopes of seeing his face. Finally, he strolled into view, his hands stuffed insouciantly in his pockets.
Caroline bit back the impulse to snap at him; he was not a servant to be ordered around. But she wished she could voice her opinion of his rumpled clothes and overly long hair. He was reputed to be charming with women, but Caroline did not find him at all attractive.
Mr. Wickham settled next to her and draped one arm over the back of the bench. She stiffened at this familiarity but said nothing. Unfortunately, she needed this odious man’s cooperation.
“Well?” she asked when he did not seem inclined to speak. “Did you take care of it? Are you betrothed to Eliza Bennet?”
Mr. Wickham’s expression was not particularly triumphant; a knot of anxiety began to form in Caroline’s stomach. “I encountered some difficulties,” he said slowly.
“Of what kind?” she snapped.
“Of the Darcy kind.”
“Did she agree to marry you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good!” She clapped her hands together.
“But,” Wickham’s voice rose, “Darcy arrived right after, and…well…he kissed her.”
“Kissed her!” Caroline’s hand flew to her throat. How disgusting. The words conjured up such horrible images.
Wickham scratched the back of his head. “He made a big show of it. I believe he was attempting to compromise her so she could not marry me.”
Caroline’s nostrils flared. “Nonsense! He would not do such a thing. Not to her. He was simply drawn in—momentarily—by her arts and allurements.”
Wickham’s shrug eloquently conveyed: “If you say so.”
Christmas at Darcy House Page 10
