A Beneficial, If Unwilling, Compromise

by Bronwen Chisholm

  A look of satisfaction spread across Jane’s features as Mrs. Bennet blanched. Without turning, Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy stood behind her. Taking a deep breath, she swung about to meet his gaze.

  “All who know us are aware we had a less than auspicious beginning. I fear I chose to fuel those first impressions by only looking for faults, then attributed that trait to you. I have been quite foolish, and was thoroughly surprised by your actions this evening.” Her eyes fell to the floor, her words failed her.

  “You see, Mr. Darcy?” Jane stepped forward until she stood beside the gentleman and slipped her hand about his arm. “My sister has no desire to be your bride.”

  “I failed to hear those sentiments, Miss Bennet.” Mr. Darcy’s voice was so filled with emotion that Elizabeth raised her eyes as she struggled to understand him. “Miss Elizabeth has stated what has been.”

  With a cough to clear his throat, he turned his attention to the Bennet sister at his side. “I believe your intention is to put yourself in her place to become my bride. I must point out that you and I were not found together. It is your sister’s name which has been circulated about the ballroom. Our paths have been set.”

  Jane’s complexion became even paler. Her gaze flew toward Mrs. Bennet, her lower lip trembling, before she looked to her sister. Elizabeth found it difficult to meet her gaze and once more stared at the floor as a small tremble passed through her.

  In a single step, Mr. Darcy was by her side; Jane’s hands had fallen from his arm as he began to move. Catching Elizabeth’s hands in his own, he knelt before her. “I have attempted to do this more than once.” His eyes scanned those gathered. “I hope to not be interrupted this time.”

  Mr. Bennet gave a brief nod and took his wife’s arm, drawing her from her seat. As he reached Jane he claimed her arm as well and led them both from the room.

  When the latch clicked into place, Mr. Darcy smiled. “Finally.”

  Tears washed over Elizabeth’s cheeks as she shook her head. “How …?”

  “How is it that I still wish to propose?”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  His gaze fell to their joined hands and he appeared to study them, one hand holding hers while the other caressed her fingers. His voice was soft when he began to speak. “As I told your sister, our paths are set. I am a gentleman and will do what is honourable.”

  She attempted to pull her hands from his, but he held them securely as he spoke more determinedly. “You were correct regarding our beginnings. I would be a fool to believe you hold no reservations in regard to our future, but I assure you, Elizabeth …”

  A knock sounded at the door and Mr. Darcy’s chin dropped to his chest. When it was heard a second time, he called over his shoulder in a commanding voice, “Go away!”

  The giggle which escaped Elizabeth’s lips was filled with the tension of the night. Indeed, she feared it might signal the beginnings of hysteria. His eyes caught hers as the door opened a crack before being pushed further open and a cowering footman stepped inside.

  “Forgive me, sir, but you said to alert you when the supper dance was nearing the end.”

  Elizabeth shook with her exhausted amusement when a look of contrition covered Mr. Darcy’s features.

  “Thank you, Edgar. You may go.”

  The door closed behind the man’s hastily retreating form and the couple was alone again.

  Mr. Darcy studied her closely, but Elizabeth was beyond any semblance of propriety. The laughter she had fought to contain before the servant’s interruption burst forth, accompanied by fresh tears. Within seconds, she found it hard to breath and the look of concern from her companion did nothing to settle her. Laughter mutated into sobs and she found herself collapsing into his arms, clinging to his lapels.

  As her weight settled against him, Mr. Darcy eased them to the floor until she sat cradled in his lap, his arms about her. Slowly he rocked her as he kissed her hair and whispered words of comfort.

  Elizabeth’s tears ceased as quickly as they had begun and she subsided into stuttering breaths. Her head was tucked neatly under his chin and for a moment she thought she could easily drift off to sleep in his embrace. Rousing herself from such thoughts of intimacy, she drew back to consider his countenance.

  A hesitant smile lifted her lips. “You think me as silly as my sisters.”

  “I think you held up far longer than they would have, given the situation.” His eyes shown with his admiration causing warmth to fill her, though it did not completely displace her nervousness.

  “Should we go in to dinner?” she asked, though she took no action to remove herself from his arms.

  Mr. Darcy sighed. “Elizabeth, we have been interrupted yet again. I fear I am not meant to propose properly.” His chest rumbled with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Perhaps it is Providence protecting me from myself. As you are well aware, I tend to put my foot in it.”

  Feeling suddenly wearied, Elizabeth laid her head upon his shoulder. “Neither of us would be well judged by our words, I believe.” The events of the day settled upon her and she yawned, relaxing fully against him. “Forgive me, sir.”

  His hands rubbed her back. “No one could fault you. You have had a most distressing day.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears once more and she blinked fiercely. “I promise sir, I am not normally a watering pot. So much has occurred today. I awoke this morning believing my most pressing concern would be avoiding my cousin’s overtures, only to learn my father was dying and my mother wished Jane and I to find ourselves compromised before the end of the ball. I had not the leisure to envisage how events may play out.”

  Their eyes met, Mr. Darcy’s concern for her nearly undoing her once more as he spoke. “I fear had you had the opportunity, our current situation would not have occurred to you.”

  She attempted to smile. “I must concur, sir.”

  Mr. Darcy feigned surprise. “A topic on which we agree? How singular. Do not fret, my dear, I shall not expect it to become a frequent occurrence.”

  She laughed, finally sounding herself. Elizabeth was surprised by the sudden weightlessness which filled her. Her eyes met his and the force of his affections settled upon her. Instead of oppressing her as she anticipated, they seemed to strengthen her and she could not suppress her smile.

  His startled expression nearly caused her to laugh once more, but then his eyes darkened as his gaze fell to her lips. Her heart raced when he leaned forward in a determined manner and claimed them. It started simply until a sigh escaped her and he pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. Her lips opened at his insistence and she clung to him as his tongue dipped hesitantly to tickle her own and then withdrew.

  “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I have forgotten myself.” He leaned his forehead against her own. “Only in my dreams have I been so bold.”

  “You dreamt of me?” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears.

  He nodded, causing her own head to move with his. “Will you marry me?”

  Elizabeth felt as though her heart might burst from her chest and felt heat rise in her cheeks. “When I think of how this day progressed, and how many times I wished to go back and have it all change.” She pulled back from him and shook her head. “But if it had, if Mama had not found the letter and not told us … I would not be with you now, would not have experienced my first kiss.” Her gaze became blurry and she blinked rapidly. “Oh, I am as foolish as my mother.”

  Mr. Darcy’s brow creased with worry and she realized she had not answered him. She smiled shyly. “Yes, sir. I will be your wife.”

  A luminous grin broke across his lips and he drew her to him once more. This time, his lips brushed lightly against hers and stopped. “I fear I am not happily anticipating an extended engagement.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “I cannot leave Longbourn with Papa ill.”

  The gentleman’s brow furrowed again before a grimace transformed his features. “How foolish of me. You were not here.”
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br />   “I beg your pardon?”

  Without a word, Mr. Darcy lifted her from his lap until she knelt before him. Once unencumbered by her, he rose, then helped her to her feet. “You must forgive me, Elizabeth, I forgot you were not in the library when your father revealed the subject of the letter. He is not ill. I believe it is one of his tenants.”

  Elizabeth’s jaw fell open and her eyes grew wide. “Papa is not ill?”

  “No.” Mr. Darcy continued to hold her hands from when he had assisted her and he dropped his gaze to them. “I should have told you before proposing.”

  Elizabeth drew their hands down, causing him to look at her. “It would not have changed my answer, Mr. Darcy.” His eyes widened, a hopeful expression upon his features. “We were to be wed the moment you took my arm on the terrace. Lady Lucas assured it.”

  A shadow passed over his eyes as his features returned to the staid, bored expression he had worn in public since they met. “You are correct, of course.” He slipped her hand onto his arm and made for the door. “We should join the others. We have been alone too long.”

  Elizabeth tugged gently on his arm, refusing to leave the study just yet. “Mr. Darcy, I have not finished speaking.”

  His posture became rigid and she saw the fabric of his cravat strain as he swallowed. His eyes closed, as though it took all his strength to maintain the calm façade.

  Frustrated, she sighed. “If we are to be married, I must know your Christian name.”

  “Fitzwilliam.”

  “Fitzwilliam.” She allowed the name to linger on her tongue a moment. “Very well then.”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned so that his arm was in front of her, her hands wrapped about it. Her grip upon him tightened in an attempt to embolden herself. “Though it was not what either of us believed we desired when the ball began, it appears we are not the same as we were then. I cannot express emotions such as you have revealed.” She noticed a slight flicker cross his countenance. “But the feelings I have are vastly altered from what they were.”

  Mr. Darcy swiveled so they stood face to face. “Elizabeth, what are you saying?”

  Her hand left his arm and caressed his cheek. “I would be pleased to be your wife, Fitzwilliam. I cannot imagine another man who suits me as you do.”

  Tears glistened in Mr. Darcy’s eyes as he turned his head enough to kiss her palm. “I promise, Elizabeth, I will make you happy. You shall have no cause to repine.”

  A smirk pulled one corner of her mouth upward. “But what of you, sir? Will you be happy with such an impertinent, independent wife?”

  Mr. Darcy laughed. “I believe I shall know how to act.” Before she could reply, he kissed her soundly.

  CHAPTER NinE

  Mr. Bennet led her down the corridor, but Jane was too lost in thought to recognize her surroundings. The sound of voices and music danced about the periphery of her thoughts.

  Sara had been so kind to her, brushing out her hair and restyling it, all the while speaking of little nothings. In the midst of the mindless ramblings, Jane had been able to come to understand the choices laid before her. Or rather choice.

  Her words to Mr. Bingley had surely turned him from her; there was no chance of her obtaining the happiness she once desired. Instead she would do as her mother demanded. As these thoughts overtook her, she felt a coldness enter her heart. Her tears had ceased to flow and she resigned herself to her fate.

  When Sara was finished with her task, Jane stood and observed herself in the mirror. All her life she had been praised for her beauty, but until this day, she had given it little value. Now she understood; it was all she had to barter for a better life. Standing to her full height, she drew back her shoulders and raised her head. For a brief moment, the resemblance to Miss Bingley entered her mind, but she pushed it aside.

  “Thank you, Sara. I believe I am ready to rejoin the others.”

  The maid curtseyed and held the door for Jane to leave the safety and quiet of the bedroom. She descended the main stairs, but did not enter the ballroom. Instead she asked a footman to show her to the library. After knocking and gaining admittance, he opened the door for her.

  She was startled when she entered to find Mr. Bingley present. She tried to hide her surprise by forcing a smile as she turned toward his friend.

  “Mr. Darcy, I fear I must beg your forgiveness for my behaviour earlier on the terrace. I believe the punch went to my head. I am not normally so overcome.”

  The gentleman bowed to her. “Do not fear, Miss Bennet, it has not diminished my respect for you. I doubt any other would have been less affected in your situation.”

  “You are too kind.” She lowered her eyes, but peeped at him through her lashes as she had seen her younger sisters do when speaking to the officers. She felt like a fool.

  “Jane.”

  Her father’s voice drew her attention, but she could not bring herself to look at him. Instead, she turned his direction with her head lowered.

  “Look at me, child.”

  Reluctantly she raised her head. Her eyes unwillingly searched his countenance for signs of the illness of which they had been blissfully unaware only that morning. The only proof she saw was a weariness about his eyes.

  “Yes, Papa?”

  “How are you feeling, Janie?”

  “Much better, Papa.” She forced the smile to return.

  “I am pleased to hear it.” He looked toward the sofa where Mr. Bingley sat, but said no more.

  No one spoke or moved and the silence stretched out. Jane nervously looked toward her mother, but that lady would not meet her gaze. She surveyed the room once more, expecting to see Elizabeth, but she was not there. Where could she be?

  Mr. Darcy stared at his friend, as though he believed his gaze had the ability to prompt Mr. Bingley into motion or speech. Still all remained as statues.

  Taking a deep breath, Jane stepped toward Mr. Darcy and slipped a hand through his arm. “I believe, sir, we were in conversation before my sister interrupted us.”

  The gentleman’s jaw dropped open and his eyes sought Mr. Bennet’s before looking at her once more. “Your mother’s arrival ended that discussion, Miss Bennet.” He gently removed his arm from her grip and stepped away from her. “I believe I shall see what is keeping Elizabeth.”

  Before she could protest, Mr. Darcy fled the room. A grinding sound filled the void which followed.

  “Mr. Bingley?” Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched as he fought to hide his diversion. “Is there anything you wish to say?”

  The younger man turned a harsh gaze upon Jane’s father. “I do not comprehend your amusement, sir.” His jaw clenched and the grinding sound was heard once more.

  “Do you not? I fear I have always loved a farce.”

  “Papa, how can you speak so at such a time?” Jane’s displeasure over the situation turned to anger. “Our very futures hang on the actions of this evening. How can you find humour in our distress?”

  Mr. Bingley stood and crossed to her side. “Jane …”

  His closeness and her name on his lips caused Jane to stiffen. “Sir, I believe I have asked you not to be so familiar.”

  The gentleman staggered back a step as his eyes clouded over. “And so you have. I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet.” He gave her an exaggerated bow and stormed from the room.

  Jane looked up to find her father’s sad gaze upon her as he shook his head. “Jane, what have you done?”

  Her head rose higher and she looked to her mother once more. Mrs. Bennet still remained eerily silent as she shook her head and wrung her handkerchief. Before more could be said, Elizabeth entered the room.

  Jane looked at her sister and friend, and was startled by the emotions which overcame her. Elizabeth had been her closest companion, her confidante. They had shared all. Yet at that moment, she felt as though she did not know her. Elizabeth had been found with Mr. Darcy though Mrs. Bennet had declared it should be Jane. She could think of no reason why Elizabe
th would steal that from her. These thoughts led to her lashing out at her most beloved sister in a way she had never done before. Guilt now threatened to overwhelm her.

  Mr. Bennet stopped a few paces from the dining room doors, drawing Jane from her thoughts. Slowly, she turned toward him. He looked first to her and then to his wife before taking a deep breath.

  “There will be many questions when we enter, but nothing is to be said until Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth join us.”

  He squeezed Jane’s hand. “I cannot begin to imagine what transpired between you and Mr. Bingley this evening, my dear, but I pray you reconsider. I have never seen a man more eager to fight for what he believed to be rightfully his.”

  Her brow creased. “I do not understand, Papa.”

  “No, but it is not for me to tell.” He patted her hand and proceeded to escort them into the dining room.

  Most conversation ceased as they entered and Jane could feel the heat of a blush cover her countenance. Mr. Bingley was seated with his sisters and briefly looked her direction before emptying his wineglass and motioning for it to be refilled.

  Mr. Bennet led them toward a few empty seats at a nearby table and held a chair for his wife and then his daughter. Slowly conversations began once more, but in a more whispered tone with frequent looks in their direction. Mrs. Bennet was unnervingly silent.

  When the doors opened once more to reveal a smiling Mr. Darcy and blushing Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet rose and crossed to them. After firmly shaking Mr. Darcy’s hand and kissing Elizabeth’s cheek, he turned to the assembly. The announcement of their engagement was greeted with cheers and well wishes.

  Jane glanced Mr. Bingley’s direction to find him staring at her, a frown etched deeply in his features. She could not hold his gaze, instead looking down to where she pushed the food about her plate. Only a small disturbance at the end of the table drew her attention.

  “But this cannot be!” Mr. Collins brushed off Mary’s hands from his arm as he stood and crossed toward the newly engaged couple. “Sir, I must protest.”