Inspiration

by Maria Grace

  And to think Darcy had the audacity to interfere? No wonder his muse had been offended!

  Had he done enough to atone for his errors?

  Somewhere in the house a longcase clock chimed. “Pray forgive us. I am certain we have overstayed our welcome. We must be going.” Bingley rose, but slowly. None who saw him could doubt his very material reluctance to depart.

  Mrs. Bennet stood. “You are quite a visit in my debt, Mr. Bingley, for when you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with us as soon as you returned. I have not forgotten, you see; and I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your engagement.”

  Bingley shrugged. “I do regret having been prevented by business—”

  “Then you would consider having dinner with us on Tuesday. Both of you, of course.”

  Bingley glanced at him, and Darcy nodded.

  “Certainly. We will be there and look forward to your gracious hospitality.”

  Though he cared nothing for Mrs. Bennet’s hospitality, it meant his muse was smiling. He would see Miss Elizabeth once again on Tuesday. What better sign could he hope for?

  ∞∞∞

  On Tuesday, there was a large party assembled at Longbourn when Darcy and Bingley arrived. Darcy checked his first instinct to tell Bingley to offer his regrets and return back to Netherfield. How dare Mrs. Bennet surprise him with a large dinner party! Such things were difficult enough when he had opportunity to properly prepare, but this? It was beyond the pale.

  But to flee Longbourn’s hospitality would require an untruth to be told. He abhorred disguise even more than surprise company. And so did his muse.

  He dragged himself inside.

  When they repaired to the dining-room, it seemed Miss Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take the place, which, in all their former parties had belonged to him, by Miss Bennet. Her prudent mother forbore to invite Bingley to sit by herself—an impressive feat for certain, but a prudent one, given what she was likely hoping to accomplish. Would it amuse her—or Miss Elizabeth—to know that he harbored the same hopes for his friend as they?

  On entering the room, Bingley seemed to hesitate, but Miss Bennet happened to look round, and happened to smile. He placed himself by her.

  Elizabeth glanced at Darcy as he smiled and nodded at Bingley. How her face lit, a great fire warming his soul. Approbation! He had her approbation! What more could he possibly want in the world? Did it matter that he sat beside Mrs. Bennet at dinner? Did it matter that Sir William Lucas prattled on endlessly on his other side? No. Not even that could overshadow her smiles.

  Hopefully, the evening would yet afford some opportunity of bringing Miss Elizabeth together with him. Surely, the whole of the visit could not pass away without enabling them to enter into something more than the mere ceremony of greetings that attended his entrance.

  Perhaps after dinner.

  The gentlemen went into the drawing room following dinner, but with Miss Bennet making tea and Miss Elizabeth pouring coffee in so close a confederacy around the table, there was not a single vacancy near her which would admit a chair. Perhaps he might get closer to her if he sought out a cup of coffee.

  “Is your sister at Pemberley still?” Something like desperation tinged her voice, but it did not match her words. Was she anxious to have some conversation with him?

  “Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.”

  “And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?” Miss Elizabeth poured a cup of coffee, her hands trembling with the effort.

  “Mrs. Annesley is with her. The others have been gone on to Scarborough these three weeks.”

  She looked as though she wanted to say more but was interrupted by one of the local young ladies. Darcy walked away. Yes, he was disappointed, but what could he expect in such a crowded affair?

  The material point was that she had spoken to him, asked after the family dearest to him. If that was not auspicious, what was? Yes, this had been a very good evening, indeed.

  ∞∞∞

  Upon leaving Longbourn that night, his course was clear—a bit of a nuisance, but clear. But with so much favor having been doled out to him, he could not, he did not deviate from his path for mere inconvenience. He had so taxed the grace of his muse that there would surely be no more second chances.

  The next morning, he found Bingley in the morning room, sipping his coffee and reading the paper. Though the room had not changed from his last sojourn there, it was different. Was it Bingley’s current disposition that made the sun a little brighter and the breakfast offerings more fragrant? The aroma of nutmeg was particularly pronounced.

  “You seem rather well-pleased this morning.” Darcy sat down across the round, walnut table from him.

  “In fact, I am.” Bingley folded his paper and set it aside. “Though I am concerned you will not approve.”

  “Why would you think that?” Darcy’s fingers closed around his coffee cup.

  “It is on a matter over which I understood you had some rather strong opinions.”

  “I see.” Oh, to be able to nudge Bingley along and make him come out with it already! “Is it something you wish to discuss?”

  “No, actually I do not wish to discuss it at all.” Bingley squared his shoulders. “I am not actually certain I care about your opinion at all.”

  Truly? Had he just said that? Excellent! “I am intrigued as to the matter under consideration.”

  “No, you are just being difficult. You well know it.” Bingley scowled--he actually scowled!

  “You have said nothing, so how can I know?”

  “It is Miss Bennet. I know you do not approve; you think her family is below me and will be a detriment to me.” Bingley pressed his hands to the table. “But I do not care.”

  “Excellent!”

  Bingley jerked back and blinked thrice. “What did you say?”

  He must not laugh. Definitely, he must not laugh. “I said that is excellent. While I thought to do you a service, I was in fact wrong to interfere and try to decide upon the means by which you might be happy.”

  Bingley cocked his head, still blinking. “Did I just hear you correctly? Did you just admit that you were in error?”

  “Completely and without reservation.”

  The look of astonishment on Bingley’s face was priceless. It would have to make it into his sketchbook soon.

  “So, if I were to go there now, for a private interview with her—”

  “I would applaud your good sense.”

  “Truly? You are not jesting?”

  “Have I ever jested about such a thing?” Had he ever jested about anything at all?

  Bingley threw his napkin on the table and stood. “I have a call to make.”

  “Do what you need to. I must go to town to manage some business. But count on it, I shall return in ten days and fully expect to offer my congratulations when I arrive.” Darcy stood.

  He had not exactly told Bingley to make an offer of marriage. That would be interfering, and he would not do that again. But suggesting his approval of such an action, that was surely acceptable.

  Bingley nodded and grinned—a silly, boyish expression that he tended toward when words escaped him. Another expression that demanded a sketch.

  His muse approved. But the sketch would have to wait.

  ∞∞∞

  Not long after Bingley’s departure, Darcy left for London. With Bingley’s pursuit of Miss Bennet underway, there was only one thing left for him to do. A call to his solicitor was in order. He would not approach Miss Elizabeth without settlement papers—generous ones—already in hand. If that did not persuade her that he was utterly serious when he renewed his offer, nothing would.

  And if they did not, would his soul survive?

  Agony squeezed through his chest. No, if he dwelt upon that possibility, darkness would close over him, and he might never rise again. He pulled out his sketchbook and struggled
to capture Bingley’s astonished expression. That promise of joy and hope was what he needed now

  ∞∞∞

  Darcy paced the floor as he waited for the solicitor to draw up the necessary papers. Even knowing that it would take time did nothing to ease the tension that opened a gaping maw before him and threatened to swallow him whole. He had tried to write letters, conduct other business, but the efforts were futile. The only things left to him were adding sketches to his book—all his muse permitted him were images of her sister, her mother, Bingley, even Sir William, but not Miss Elizabeth—and pacing. The carpet was beginning to show a distinct pattern of wear.

  The doorbell rang.

  No one but his solicitor knew he was in town. Who could possibly be calling?

  The housekeeper announced Aunt Catherine and brought her to his study. Heavens above!

  “Aunt Catherine?” He stood and glanced about. The room was tidy and should be above reproach. How did she manage to elicit such a reaction from him in his own home?

  She stood before him wrapped in layers of fine fabric and indignation. “I am very pleased to find you here before you made a very foolish mistake. Sit down and listen well to what I have to say.”

  He sat and bit his tongue. There was little point in trying to interrupt her.

  She settled upon a plump chair and smoothed her skirts over her lap. “I have waited long enough. I insist you make your engagement to Anne official.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me clear enough. You must act now. You are in danger, and I will see you protected.” She rapped her knuckles on the edge of his desk.

  “Exactly what sort of danger am I in?”

  “From strumpets and fortune hunters.”

  “I see no such persons here.” He cast about his study for good measure.

  She threw both hands in the air. “Men can be such fools! I am certain with her arts and allurements, she has turned your eyes away from her true nature.”

  “Of whom do you speak?”

  “Of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  His heart thundered, and he missed her next several speeches.

  “She is without morals, without regard for your good name and the good name of her family. She is motivated by advantage, trying to step outside the sphere to which she was born. It is not to be tolerated. She must be taught a lesson. When you announce your engagement to Anne—”

  “How precisely would you know this about her? You have not seen her since she was in Kent, and I am quite certain she was not at all of such a mind then.” He clutched his forehead.

  “Of course, she was not. In my presence at Rosings, she was aware of her place. But she has had time to think, to plan, to scheme just how to catch you unawares. I will not have it.” She waved her hands as though that settled the matter.

  “You have not answered my question. How come you by this knowledge?”

  “I paid a call to her just yesterday.”

  The blood drained from his face. “You went all the way to Hertfordshire, driving for so many days to pay a call on her?”

  “Of course, I did! News of such an alarming nature had reached me that there was nothing else to be done.”

  “What sort of news?”

  “I was told that not only was Miss Bennet on the point of being most advantageously married, but that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew. That is you! Can you imagine? Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure you so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off to confront this girl and make my sentiments known.”

  “And what did she say?” He could hardly force the words out.

  Aunt Catherine’s eyes bulged like an over-excited pug. “She told me I was not entitled to know her dearest concerns and nothing could induce her to be explicit. She did not care that you were engaged to my daughter.”

  “But I am not!”

  “Nor would she satisfy me with a promise to never become engaged with you.”

  His knees melted until he finally sat on the edge of his desk. “She said that?”

  “Indeed, she did! The cheek, the audacity! I am not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner. I warned her that a woman like her, married to you, should not expect to be noticed by your family or friends. She would be censured, slighted, and despised by everyone connected to you. The alliance would be a disgrace, and her name never mentioned.”

  “And her response?” He forced back an anticipatory smile.

  Aunt Catherine tossed her head, her lip curling back. “She said, ‘These are heavy misfortunes indeed, but the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could upon the whole have no cause to repine.’”

  Aunt Catherine continued on in that vein for some time, but none of her words drowned out that one chorus that played over and over in his mind: extraordinary sources of happiness.

  The moment Aunt Catherine stormed from Darcy House, he dashed upstairs to his attic studio and painted long into the night.

  ∞∞∞

  The next day, the solicitor finished his task, and Darcy was off to Hertfordshire that very evening, arriving at Netherfield after dinner when dusk was about to give way to dark. To say Bingley was surprised might have been an overstatement. It seemed he was aware of very little except his own good fortune which he could not help but impart to Darcy.

  Bingley was now betrothed to Miss Bennet. Her father had readily given his blessing to the match. Mrs. Bennet was sharing their happiness with any who would listen—and probably a few who did not. Miss Bennet had forgiven Bingley his inconstancy and proved it with her angelic tranquility. Was there any woman more perfect? Moreover, Bingley did not blame Darcy for his part in the matter, and expected to be duly thanked for his graciousness in that choice.

  Whilst Darcy offered his congratulations to Bingley, if he were to be entirely honest, he congratulated himself on overcoming the penultimate hurdle to his own happiness without raising the censure of his muse. Perhaps this boded well for him and his mission for the morrow.

  It would have been pleasant to coax Bingley to say more of his mode of declaration and how exactly he won Miss Bennet’s agreement. But what pleased Miss Bennet would find less approval from Miss Elizabeth.

  For this he was truly on his own. Except for his muse. Surely, she would support him.

  They arrived very early at Longbourn, but Bingley’s presence there was universally welcome, so the hour made little difference to the residents. Bingley proposed walking out—no doubt in hopes of being alone with Miss Bennet on the road. Sadly, Miss Kitty chose to join them and walked with him and Miss Elizabeth.

  Not just with them but between them.

  To be so close and unable to say anything of substance! Surely this must be some final test? What else could explain this turn of luck? Patient, he would be patient. He had not come so far to lose it all now. So he listened to talk of ribbon and muslin and sleeves.

  Torture, simply torture.

  By Miss Bennet’s preferences, they walked towards the Lucases’, and Miss Kitty was seized by a desire to call upon Miss Lucas, leaving him to walk more or less alone with Miss Elizabeth.

  Now, he could speak now! But first, he must draw a breath.

  “Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature, and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express.”

  Darcy clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head. His steps crunched on the road gravel, little clouds of dust swirling around each footfall. “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you have ever been informed of what may, in a
mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. How did you come to know?”

  “You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter, and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them.” From the corner of his eye, he could make out the endearing way she chewed her lower lip.

  “If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

  She did not respond! Oh, that she would say something!

  He must wait for her to speak. He must. But something overwhelmed him and tore the words from him. “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.” Heart thundering in his ears, the world blurred before him, but he forced himself to walk on.

  This moment would decide his fate. Forever.

  And still she did not speak. Her cheeks flushed the deepest rose, and her eyes grew very bright, shimmering like moonlight on a stream. But what that could mean?

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “My feelings…oh, my feelings! They have so materially changed, I cannot think of what they were then without dread. Pray do not ever remind me of what I said or felt last spring. I would just as soon never consider it again.”

  He drew in a slow, unsteady breath, chest trembling. “Am I to understand then, that you might consider a different response to the offer I made then?”

  How many heartbeats must pass before she gave him an answer. Twenty? Thirty?

  “Yes.”

  All the air rushed form his lungs. He barely held himself upright. “Pray, forgive me and tell me again, lest I am mistaken and have misunderstood in order to hear what I would most desire.”