At last, everything was ready. Jane and Elizabeth spent the afternoon preparing, bathing and washing their hair, which the maid arranged into a fashionable bun for each other them, sweeping their hair off their faces and pinning it high at the back of their heads.
They complemented each other perfectly. Jane was a radiant blonde, with glowing golden hair, while Elizabeth was a lovely brunette, with shining dark brown tresses.
Lydia, Kitty and Mary were also to join in the fun. Mrs Bennet had made some effort with their clothes, too, though not as much as she had with Jane and Elizabeth. She was very gratified that her daughters had found such refined friends, and she hoped that her younger girls might meet some eligible gentlemen at the ball.
At last they set off. The moon was full and it brightened the way to Netherfield Park. The imposing residence looked magical in the moonlight. Carriages were rolling up in front of the door, with snorting horses and skilful coachman all adding to the excitement of the scene. Light flooded out of the windows and pooled on the steps, which were crowded with people.
Elizabeth lifted the hem of her skirt as she followed Jane out of the carriage. They went across the gravel drive and up the stone steps. Once inside, they crossed the black-and-white floor, threading their way between the marble columns. There were gentleman in blue coats and black, and there were officers in scarlet coats with gold epaulettes. There were young ladies in white muslin and older ladies in brightly coloured gowns. It was a wonderful sight.
The Bennets were shown to a special room which had been set aside so the ladies could remove their outdoor clothes. Jane and Elizabeth removed their cloaks and bonnets, then sat down together on one of the gilded settees as they took off their outdoor shoes and slipped on their soft white dancing pumps.
Lydia was as noisy as ever, and Mary preached at her, while Mrs Bennet fussed over all of them, but Kitty was remarkably grown up. Elizabeth was pleased to see what a good effect Georgiana was having on her younger sister.
And then it was time to go into the drawing-room.
Elizabeth looked around the room with a fluttering heart, and when she saw Mr Darcy looking very noble and handsome at the far side of the room, in his black coat and white breeches, she flushed with pleasure. His white shirt was frilled at the cuffs and down the front, and his cravat was fastened with a diamond tie pin. His dark hair was arranged in a fashionable style which set off his eyes, his cheekbones and the firm line of his jaw.
As soon as he saw her, his whole countenance changed and he walked towards her with an eager step and claimed her for the first dance.
They took their place in the set, standing opposite each other. Mr Darcy bowed and Elizabeth dropped an elegant curtsey, with her back straight and her gown sweeping beneath her.
Then the dance began. They danced without speaking, not because they did not have anything to say to each other, but because they were both too happy to speak. Their eyes said everything that needed to be said.
Elizabeth was lost in a haze of happiness and her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. It was as if Mr Darcy was the only other person in the room. She felt she belonged with him and had always belonged with him and always would belong with him, for all eternity.
When the dance ended, Mr Darcy gave her his arm and led her into the refreshment room. Tall windows looked out over the terrace and, further down, one of them was open despite the lateness of the year. It looked so beautiful, with the moon and starlight silvering the terrace and the gardens beyond, that without thinking about it they both stepped outside.
Elizabeth gave an involuntary shiver and Mr Darcy took off his coat and put it round her shoulders. She accepted it gracefully.
‘Elizabeth . . . ’ He sank to one knee, there in the moonlight. ‘I can wait no longer. I have felt my love for you growing ever since I came to Netherfield. It has been deepening and strengthening every day, until I can no longer contain it. I belong to you, Elizabeth, body and soul. You would make me the happiest of men if you would agree to become my wife.’ He took her hand. ‘Will you, Lizzy? Will you marry me.’
She looked down at him with radiant eyes and a heart full of love and said, ‘Yes.’
The word came out as a whisper, so emotional did she feel, but it did not matter. He heard her and that was all that was needed. He stood up and took her in his arms and her face turned instinctively up to his and he kissed her. Nothing else seemed to exist, only the two of them and their love for each other.
At last the kiss ended and they smiled at each other, shyly at first and then happily.
‘I must ask your father for his permission,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I will speak to him tomorrow, when he is at liberty. I will have to share you with other people then. But for now, I want you to myself.’
Elizabeth felt the same. It was too precious a moment to be shared with anyone else. She looked around her, at the moonlit night and the silvered grounds of Netherfield Park and the house alight with candles, and then again at Mr Darcy, and she knew it was something she would remember for the rest of her life.
Chapter Twelve
Mr Darcy dressed carefully the following morning. He wanted to make a good impression on Mr Bennet when he asked for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage. The two men had often talked, for they had met at various entertainments, and although they saw each other’s faults, they had a liking for each other. Mr Darcy was prepared to answer Mr Bennet’s questions in order to reassure him that Elizabeth would be happy.
Having finished tying his cravat, Mr Darcy put on his tailcoat, flicked a speck of fluff from his breeches and went downstairs. He found Mr Bingley already there. Mr Bingley was sitting in front of a plate of ham and eggs but he was not eating. He looked very nervous.
‘I say, Darcy,’ said Mr Bingley, as Mr Darcy helped himself to a steak.
‘Yes?’ said Mr Darcy, sitting down opposite his friend.
‘I really do like Miss Bennet very much. In fact, I don’t just like her . . . ’ He seemed to gather his courage and finished in a rush, ‘ . . . I love her. I know you think marriages should be between people of equal rank, but I have decided to ask Miss Bennet to be my wife anyway.’
He looked at Mr Darcy rather guiltily, but with strength of purpose.
‘I think it is an excellent idea!’ said Mr Darcy, his face breaking into a smile.
He reached over the table and shook his friend by the hand.
‘You do?’ asked Mr Bingley in surprise, but nevertheless looking very pleased.
‘Yes, I do. My views on marriage have undergone a complete change in the last few months. And anyway, I cannot blame you for proposing to Miss Bennet. You see, last night I asked Miss Elizabeth to be my wife.’
Mr Bingley looked surprised and then delighted.
‘Capital!’ he said, with a wide smile. ‘She is a lovely young woman. She will be very good for you. She gives you just the lightness you need and you give her . . . well, you will give her Pemberley!’ he finished, joking.
Mr Darcy laughed. ‘Yes, Bingley, I will. But I will give her more than that, and she, of all the women I have ever met, knows it. She is unique. She is the only woman I have ever met who was able to pierce my pride and show me what it was like to be valued for myself. She had the courage to stand up to me and tell me when I was wrong, and she had the goodness and the justice to forgive me my errors and reward me with her hand in marriage. She has made me the happiest of men.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Mr Bingley, shaking his head with a smile. ‘That honour belongs to me!’
‘We will have to agree to differ on that. I am going to see Mr Bennet as soon as I have eaten.’
‘And I will be doing the same,’ said Mr Bingley.
‘Mr Bennet will be very busy this morning, then!’ said Mr Darcy. ‘As you have not asked Miss Bennet yet, I will speak to him first and you can follow.’
‘Agreed,’ said Mr Bingley. ‘But, if you are not unwilling, we can go in the carriage together.’
&n
bsp; Mr Darcy nodded.
The two gentlemen tried to finish their breakfast but they were too nervous to eat and before very long they set out for Longbourn.
Elizabeth woke late that morning. The ball had gone on until the early hours and when she had returned home she had been too excited and happy to sleep. So it was almost ten o’clock when she awoke. She looked over to her sister’s bed and saw that Jane, too, was only just waking.
They smiled at each other and began to rise in a leisurely fashion. But the door was flung open and Mrs Bennet rushed in.
‘Lizzy! Jane! Make haste. Oh, Hill, help them. Where is your corset, Lizzy? Oh, Jane, where is your sash?’
‘What is it?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Is the house on fire?’
‘House on fire! House on fire! It is something far more important than that! Elizabeth, Mr Darcy is in your father’s study and he wants to marry you!’
Elizabeth laughed for joy.
‘And Mr Bingley is in the drawing-room. If you are clever, Jane, he will ask you to marry him,’ said Mrs Bennet.
‘Jane does not need to be clever – although, of course, she is,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Bingley has already fallen in love with her and I am convinced she will soon be Mrs Bingley.’
Mrs Bennet collapsed on the bed, stupefied by so much good news.
But she quickly rallied.
‘They are bound to have brothers and cousins and friends. Make sure they bring them all to Longbourn! Your sisters still need husbands,’ said Mrs Bennet.
She was at last persuaded to leave the room.
Elizabeth and Jane dressed quickly. Hill brought them some hot chocolate to drink and some warm rolls to eat and then they went downstairs. Jane went into the drawing-room to be with Mr Bingley and Elizabeth lingered in the hall, for she heard Mr Darcy’s voice and knew he was just about to leave the study.
The door opened and Mr Darcy came out. She could see by his face that her father had given his consent.
He took her hands and kissed her, then they went into the drawing-room. Mr Bingley slipped out of the door, to take his turn in speaking to Mr Bennet.
Mrs Bennet was loud in her congratulations.
Jane, seeing Lizzy’s embarrassment, took her mother out into the garden on some pretext and Elizabeth was left alone with Mr Darcy.
‘I have your father’s permission, and so now nothing can prevent our marriage,’ said Mr Darcy. He turned to face her. ‘I cannot believe I was lucky enough to find you. You didn’t just rescue Georgiana, all those months ago in Ramsgate, you rescued me. You rescued me from the cold, distant world I had built around myself and brought me into a world of light and warmth. You awakened feelings I thought I had lost for ever. You saved me, Lizzy.’
Mrs Bennet’s voice drifted in through the window.
‘ . . . . ten thousand a year!’
‘And now I can save you!’ he said with a smile.
Elizabeth laughed. It would certainly be pleasant to be saved from her mother! But she was not marrying to escape from her mother. She was marrying because she had found the one man in all the world she loved.
And to make matters even better, her beloved Jane had found the man she loved, too.
Through the window she saw Mr Bingley approaching Jane. He had been to see Mr Bennet, and from his happy face it was obvious he had been given permission to marry Jane.
‘Who would have thought, when I accepted my aunt’s invitation to go to Ramsgate, that so much would happen?’ asked Elizabeth. ‘Or that, after such a bad start, everything would turn out so well?’
‘And now we have nothing more to do except enjoy the rest of our lives together,’ said Mr Darcy.
A Pair of Fine Eyes
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
Mr Darcy, owner of the vast Pemberley estate in Derbyshire, was currently staying at his London town house. It was a warm evening in late summer and the windows were open, letting in the balmy air. The noise of the street did not reach his ears, for he was sitting in his library, which was at the back of the house. The view from the window was a pleasant one as it overlooked the garden. The inside of the room was even more beautiful, for it was lined with leather books in tall bookcases and there was the glint of gold from the lettering on the spines. The room was furnished with a large desk and chair at one side, with two further wing back chairs by the fire. On a small table next to the fireplace was a decanter of brandy with two glasses because Mr Darcy was expecting his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He heard the sound of the front door opening and his butler’s voice saying, ‘Allow me to show you in.’
Then he heard his cousin’s voice saying, ‘Thank you,’ in reply.
The door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam walked in with the commanding tread of a soldier. He was not as handsome as Mr Darcy but he was well dressed and he had a good figure with an upright bearing.
Mr Darcy stood up and welcomed him.
‘I received your note,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Yes, I did.’
Mr Darcy invited his cousin to sit down and then poured drinks for both men before sitting down himself, flicking the tails of his black tailcoat up as he did so. They talked of general matters for a while, discussing the ongoing war against France and the state of the country, until, at last, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, ‘So what did you want to see me about? Is it about Georgiana?’
‘No,’ said Mr Darcy. He added, ‘But you will be pleased to know I have decided not to send her to Ramsgate as I had initially planned. Your comments about Napoleon wanting to invade England, and the likelihood of him landing on the south-east coast, have put me off the idea of sending her to the seaside.’
‘Good. It will be better if she takes a holiday elsewhere, just in case. But if you do not want to talk to me about Georgiana, then what is it?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam curiously.
Mr Darcy steepled his fingers in front of him and he said. ‘I am thinking of getting married.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. ‘At last.’
‘Yes, it is about time,’ Mr Darcy agreed.
‘So when is the wedding to be?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.
‘You are going too fast,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I have not asked the young lady yet. I intend to do so very soon, but I wanted your opinion before I take such a final step.’
‘I don’t see why,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam in surprise. ‘The whole family has been expecting you to marry Anne for years. In fact, I am surprised you even think it necessary to ask her. It is a foregone conclusion she will say yes. But perhaps it is a good idea, after all,’ he said, as he considered it. ‘It will be pleasant for her to be asked and it does you credit that you will wait to hear her reply before treating the thing as certain. Women like to be consulted. They don’t like their acceptance to be taken for granted.’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I am not thinking of marrying Anne.’
‘Not Anne?’ Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘But everyone is expecting it!’
‘I know,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘And that is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. The family want me to marry Anne because she is an heiress with a sizeable dowry, and she will inherit Rosings Park when her mother dies.’
‘And when you marry her, both her estate and her fortune will pass to you, as her husband,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘That is all right and proper. It will increase the family property and the family wealth.’
‘Yes. But, you see, I do not want to marry Anne. Oh, she is a w
ell born and excellent young lady . . .’
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at him disbelievingly, for they both knew Anne to be bad-tempered. However, a gentleman would never say so.
‘ . . . but I cannot imagine myself sharing my life with her,’ finished Mr Darcy.
‘Or her mother,’ added Colonel Fitzwilliam with a gruff laugh.
Darcy permitted himself a smile, too.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Lady Catherine has a strong personality and she is not always a comfortable person to be near. And if I married Anne, Lady Catherine would start paying long visits to Pemberley. But it is not just Lady Catherine, nor even Anne’s temperament that is at fault. The fact has to be faced that Anne is sickly and she might not be able to give me an heir.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam put down his drink, in token of the seriousness of the subject. He nodded gravely. The problem could not be swept under the carpet. If Anne could not provide an heir, the future of the Pemberley estate would be at risk.
‘And then, of course, there is the fact that we have nothing in common and we would live completely separate lives,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘It is too big a sacrifice to make, even for Pemberley.’
‘And so you propose to marry someone else?’ asked Colonel Fitzwilliam, looking at him sharply.
Mr Darcy took a drink and savoured it, turning the crystal glass in his hand and admiring the rich amber colour of the brandy. Then he put his drink down, looked his cousin in the eye, and said, ‘I do.’
There was a brief moment of silence as Colonel Fitzwilliam thought over what he had been told.
‘Your family will be affronted,’ he said at last, with a warning note in his voice.
‘I know,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at him steadily. ‘But that cannot be helped. They will just have to accustom themselves to the fact.’
He spoke with all the pride, arrogance and confidence of a powerful man. He had been the master of Pemberley since his father had died some five years before and he was used to behaving decisively. He was also used to other people falling in with his plans.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 Page 19
