Only Mr. Darcy Will Do

by Kara Louise

  Elizabeth searched his eyes. Her heart pounded as she contemplated what he wished to know. Was he concerned that she would not wish to live so close to him? Or did he hope she did?

  She could not immediately think of an appropriate answer, so she asked a question. “Just how close is it to Pemberley?”

  “Well, that is no easy answer. If you wish it to be close, it is merely a three-mile walk from the top of the ridge down to the edge of their property. Or if you prefer, it is a gruelling fifteen miles by carriage as you have to drive out through the woods, cross a river, and then proceed around the ridge.”

  Elizabeth laughed, her heart still pounding. The deliberations of her answer, however, were interrupted by the return of Mr. Bingley and Jane.

  Jane’s arm was tucked so intimately through Bingley’s that Elizabeth felt a tinge of jealousy. How she would love to wrap her arm through Mr. Darcy’s in similar fashion.

  “Have you heard about the house, Lizzy? Has Mr. Darcy told you?”

  “Only the barest of details. I know it resides either three miles or fifteen miles from Pemberley, depending upon your mode of transportation.”

  “I think it sounds wonderful, Lizzy. You will come and live with us, I hope. It is a big enough home. You can have your own apartment.”

  Elizabeth cast her eyes to Mr. Bingley, who seemed to be in hearty agreement. “I can barely contain myself with this news Darcy brought. Imagine us being his neighbour! I am inclined to take the house sight unseen, based on Darcy’s encouragement!”

  Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy, who displayed an awkward smile. He put up his hands in protest. “Now, Bingley, I have merely told you what I thought. You must decide for yourself!”

  “Have you ever steered me wrong, good friend?” Bingley asked.

  To Elizabeth, the silence was deafening. She was quite certain Darcy’s thoughts—as hers—went to the advice he had once given his friend about Jane. That seemed so very long ago.

  Elizabeth saw the admiration in both Jane’s and Bingley’s faces as they looked at Mr. Darcy. He, however, had paled, his eyes cast down in remorse. Elizabeth was convinced he was about to confess his grievous fault in front of them all. There was no need to announce it now!

  Without thinking, she tightened her fingers around Darcy’s arm, and before he could utter a word she said, “Tell us about the house as we walk back, Mr. Darcy. I should like to hear all about it.” She encouraged him with a nod of her head.

  Darcy tenderly took her hand in his and gave it a gentle tug, pulling her arm farther through his, securing it against him. He then placed his other hand over hers. How often had Elizabeth taken a gentleman’s arm, but this time it prompted a warm flush to sweep across her face, sending a shiver that reached all the way to her toes. He held onto her hand as if he feared she would be snatched away.

  She lifted her eyes and met his. All trace of the fatigue and frustration she had seen earlier in his features had been replaced by a look of tenderness. She rewarded him with a smile.

  “Come, now!” exclaimed Bingley. “We are waiting.”

  Darcy looked at his friend. “Waiting?” he said, apparently unmindful of the previous discussion.

  A nudge from Elizabeth and a soft, “You were about to tell us about the house,” brought him to his senses.

  They began to walk, and he proceeded to tell them what he recollected about Braedenthorn Manor. It was of moderate size, in very good condition; the living quarters were all quite spacious, the downstairs sitting room and library were small, but the dining room and kitchen were recently remodelled and expansive. The gardens had not been maintained, but the roads leading into it were.

  It required much concentration for Elizabeth to tend to his words, particularly when his fingers entwined with hers. Jane and Mr. Bingley conveniently walked ahead of them, and when they looked back to better hear Mr. Darcy’s words, they were so enthralled with his descriptions that they did not notice how tenderly he held her hand, nor did they notice the warm blush upon Elizabeth’s cheeks.

  As they came back to the house, the sun was just beginning to set. Jane and Mr. Bingley took the steps quickly, but Mr. Darcy stopped, pulling back gently on Elizabeth’s arm. He looked down at her hand in his, giving it a tender stroke with his fingertips. He glanced up and searched her face. “You have yet to answer my last question, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Your last question?” she asked breathlessly. “Which one was that?” She truly could not comprehend anything beyond the touch of his hand.

  “If you choose to reside with your sister, your elder sister, that is, what are your feelings about living in such close proximity to Pemberley?”

  Elizabeth pinched her brows down in contemplation. “Pemberley is a fine house,” she said, making a vain attempt at concealing a smile. “One could not ask for a finer estate to have in one’s neighbourhood.”

  He lay her hand flat against his open hand and stroked it with his other hand. “I believe you know my point was that I would be your neighbour.”

  Elizabeth felt her heart would burst, it beat so fervently. He stood so close; her small hand now pressed between both of his, and his eyes searched her face. “I think…” she said slowly as she forced herself to breathe and think clearly. “I would very much like it.”

  Mr. Darcy must have been holding his breath as well, for as soon as the words were out of her mouth, he released a long puff of air. “I am very glad to hear that.”

  He gently squeezed her hand and then reluctantly released it as the two proceeded into the house. Once they crossed the threshold, he released her arm, but her heart he would not relinquish.

  Chapter 24

  When Elizabeth and her companions entered the house, she found that her uncle had returned and Wickham had arrived. When they stepped into the drawing room, Elizabeth not only saw—but felt—the glare Wickham levelled at Darcy as he lifted his gaze beyond her to him. Wickham immediately looked back at Elizabeth, and a forced smile appeared as he walked over to greet her. “Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth.” Despite his air of self-assurance, his voice faltered. “It is good to see you again.”

  “Hello, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth uttered through a clenched jaw, followed by a mumbled wish for felicity in his marriage to her sister. He expressed an appreciation for her kind wishes, but she paid little heed to his words.

  She abruptly excused herself to go over and greet her sisters, but kept her eye on Mr. Darcy to see how he would proceed. He turned away from Wickham immediately, forgoing any sort of greeting, and walked to the far side of the room. He lowered himself into a chair near her aunt, and they began to converse.

  She greeted each of her sisters with a hug, truly pleased to see them, yet saddened for the attitude both Lydia and Kitty displayed. While they talked excitedly of the wedding, in whispers they derided the admonitions their uncle had placed upon the newly engaged couple.

  The Gardiners’ home, being only of modest size, had a dining room that would comfortably accommodate eight. For that reason, Mrs. Gardiner asked Elizabeth, Jane, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy to dine together in the smaller breakfast room while the others gathered in the dining room.

  Elizabeth was grateful for the separate, more intimate arrangement. When they sat down to dine, the voices from the other room were often raised and excitable, particularly those of Lydia and her mother. Elizabeth rarely heard her aunt or uncle, or even Mr. Wickham. She wondered with spiteful curiosity how much he was enjoying these people who were to become his own family. Then she wondered how Mr. Darcy would tolerate certain members of her family.

  Despite the occasional discomfiture brought on by the outbursts coming from the dining room, Elizabeth truly enjoyed the camaraderie that the foursome shared as they dined. Jane and Mr. Bingley were exceptionally happy—she could almost tangibly feel the love they had for one another. It was also apparent that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had a deep, abiding friendship. As Elizabeth watched their interactions, she readily not
iced the respect the two had for one another.

  Later, when everyone gathered together in the drawing room, Elizabeth felt again the lack of decorum that several family members exhibited. She often found herself recoiling at something one of them did or said. Save for Jane and her aunt and uncle, her family obligingly gave hearty confirmation to Elizabeth of their ill manners. Mr. Darcy stiffened at every outburst or reckless deed, seeking solace by turning his eyes to Elizabeth’s face.

  Later that evening when Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were about to take their leave, Jane opportunely asked Elizabeth to step out with her to say good-bye to the gentlemen. Elizabeth was delighted to oblige her. At the least, she might be able to leave Mr. Darcy with a final memory of the evening that was more agreeable than what he endured during the last few hours.

  When they stepped out into the cool evening air, the engaged couple walked ahead toward the waiting carriage. Mr. Darcy stopped and turned to Elizabeth.

  “Bingley and I shall be gone for three or four days,” he said. “I shall return in time for the wedding.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes saddened, and she let out a long sigh. “Yes, the wedding.” She looked up at him. “You are confident Mr. Wickham will not flee in your absence?”

  Hoping to lighten her mood, Darcy asked, “Did I not tell you that I keep him bound and gagged?”

  Elizabeth let out a soft chuckle, appreciating Darcy’s humour in such a dreadful situation. “Yes, you did, sir. I must have forgotten.”

  “May I… when I return, may I call on you here?”

  The only light came from inside the home, but Elizabeth readily could see the intensity of Mr. Darcy’s gaze. He searched her face as he awaited her answer.

  She nodded slowly and smiled. “I should like that very much. I look forward to your return.”

  He let out a long breath of air and smiled in return. “I am glad.”

  He turned to leave, but Elizabeth reached out her hand and wrapped her fingers about his arm, bringing him to a halt. He turned to look at her and then very slowly covered her hand with his. A smile appeared, one of many that Elizabeth had seen directed at her tonight. “Miss Bennet?” he said. “Ought we not join your sister and Bingley? I cannot vouch for his behaviour. We may need to serve as their chaperones.”

  “In due time. There is a matter of great import to me which requires an answer.”

  He tilted his head. “And what would that be?”

  “I asked you earlier, but you never answered directly.” Elizabeth pursed her lips tightly together and then released them, taking in a short breath. “Why did you do all this for Mr. Wickham… for my family?”

  He brought her hand forward and placed his other hand on top of hers, tapping it lightly with his fingers. “Do you truly not know?”

  Her heart pounded so strongly she wondered whether he could hear it. She moistened her lips and answered with a single raised brow, “We have had a history of misunderstanding each other. I do not wish to be under any misapprehension because of something that was not explicitly communicated.”

  “Hmmm,” Darcy murmured, stroking her hand with his fingers. “You see, Miss Bennet, I…” he spoke slowly, taking great care to articulate what he wished to say in a manner that would not be misunderstood. “I find that my regard for you has endured… and grown… since its very inception.”

  As he spoke, Elizabeth felt her heart pound so that it almost constricted her throat.

  His weight shifted from one foot to another. “I do not consider my actions regarding Wickham and your sister at all foolish. I determined as soon as you informed me of his complicity that I would do whatever I could to remedy the situation because…” His chest heaved with a breath. His voice was deep and low as he continued, “Because I love you, Elizabeth. I love you more than anything.” He took a step closer to her.

  Her breath caught at his words, and before she could respond with any coherent thought, he brought her hands up and quickly kissed the back of each of them. She was convinced the ground shook beneath them at that moment. She looked up at him, her head swimming in a wonderful dizziness. Even if she had wanted to, she could not respond with any words.

  “I look forward to seeing you when I return,” Darcy said softly.

  He turned to leave, reluctantly releasing her hands. “Mr. Darcy, please wait!” Elizabeth’s voice did not sound natural. The erratic pulsing of her heart made it difficult to even think.

  Darcy stopped. “Yes?”

  Her voice was almost a whisper. “Please allow me… there is something that I wish to tell you… I must tell you… before you leave.”

  He paused, his brows lowering in apprehensive anticipation of her words.

  She gave him a reassuring smile and chuckled softly. “You expect some dreadful proclamation. I assure you it is not.” Her heart beat wildly as she said, “Fitzwilliam, I love you, too.”

  His head tilted and he smiled, but at the same time his eyes glistened. “I have often dreamt of hearing you say those words.” His voice broke in the midst of his admission. “You have made me the happiest of men.”

  They stood for several minutes in silence, staring into each other’s faces. Darcy reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand, squeezing it gently. He lifted it up slowly and pressed his lips to it, allowing the contact to linger slightly longer than he had before. His breath brushed against it as he softly whispered, “I shall count the days until I see you again.”

  Darcy looked over at his friend. “I fear Bingley is ready to leave. Shall we?”

  They walked over and joined the couple at the carriage. Jane came and stood next to Elizabeth, taking hold of her arm as the two men stepped up into the carriage. As the carriage began to pull away, Bingley’s and Jane’s eyes were locked together, as were Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s.

  Jane still held tightly to Elizabeth’s arm as they returned to the house. Instead of remaining with the others, Elizabeth and Jane eagerly retreated to Jane’s room, which she would now share with Elizabeth.

  Once they had readied themselves for the night, they climbed into the bed, sitting with their backs leaning up against the headboard, a single candle lighting the room. Jane grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy! You must tell me everything that happened at Pemberley! With Mr. Darcy’s most prodigious actions and singular attentions, I can only attribute it to an understanding between the two of you!”

  Elizabeth smiled warmly at Jane. “Until today, I fear we suffered only from misunderstandings.”

  “I do not believe it!” Jane declared.

  Elizabeth let out a laugh. “When he invited the Willstones to Pemberley, I was under the impression he did it because of a fondness he felt for Rosalyn. She had confided in me the strong regard she held for him. It was not long, however, that I began to see a side of him that I had not seen before… or at least one that I had not allowed myself to see. I soon realized I loved him.”

  “And yet you believed him to return Miss Matthews’s regard?”

  “Initially, yes. At length, however, I began to suspect that he did not, but I still could not imagine that he would have any remnant of those feelings he once held for me.”

  “But he must still have a strong regard for you. Certainly he must!”

  Elizabeth turned to look at Jane, her smile reaching her eyes. “Tonight, my dear Jane, he declared that he still loves me.”

  Jane wrapped her sister in a hug. “I knew it! I just knew it!” Jane released her arms, but tugged at the sleeve of Elizabeth’s nightdress. “Just think of it, Lizzy! We may soon be neighbours!”

  Elizabeth began to laugh and then promptly covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it. “Jane,” she said, “he has not yet proposed to me. The poor man is likely to wait quite a long time before he does that again!”

  Jane slid down in the bed, pulling the coverlet up to her chin. Elizabeth blew out the candle and joined her.

  “But certainly Mr. Darcy has every intention of renewing his offer. I am conv
inced of it!”

  “Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied with a soft chuckle. “All we can do is wait and see.”

  In the darkness, Elizabeth pondered whether she had as much confidence as her sister. Yet it was something she desired more than anything.

  When she dwelt on the fact that for the past two days Mr. Darcy had been in the midst of the chaos and cacophony her family produced, had been reacquainted with all their idiosyncrasies, and would be irrevocably tied to his worst enemy by aligning himself with her, she marvelled that he still loved her. She was overcome with love and a greater appreciation for this man.

  Chapter 25

  With their favourite men away, Elizabeth and Jane helped with the preparations for Lydia’s wedding. There was much to do, including several visits to the linen drapers, millinery, and final fittings for dresses and the trousseau. Lydia could not be satisfied; she continually wanted more satin, more lace, more ribbon, more of anything that she did not already have. If there was boisterous excitement about the upcoming nuptials, it could all be attributed to their mother and youngest sister.

  Mrs. Bennet’s sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, arrived in town the day after the men departed for Pemberley, thus removing the burden from the Gardiners of housing Elizabeth’s family. Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Kitty stayed with them in their modest London home. It was arranged that the wedding would take place in a church in the Phillips’s neighbourhood.

  Mr. Gardiner insisted, however, that Lydia remain in his household—under his excessive domination, as Lydia claimed—so that he could keep her under his guard until the wedding. In the same manner, Elizabeth began to wonder whether Mr. Wickham was actually under lock and key in Mr. Darcy’s town home. He appeared promptly at six o’clock each evening and departed by eleven, always accompanied by one of Mr. Darcy’s manservants.

  It was just after noon three days later that Elizabeth, Jane, and Mrs. Gardiner were visiting in the drawing room. A fervent smile crept across Jane’s face as the servant stepped in and announced Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth felt an immediate surge of disappointment when Mr. Darcy did not step in with him, but she was still as eager as Jane was to hear about the manor that might become theirs.