Cousin Emma

by Perpetua Langley

  Darcy was, for a moment, silent. Then he said, “I believe Wickham divined my regard for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Mr. Bennet appeared startled, as well he might. Darcy thought he could guess that Elizabeth had not said many complimentary things about him in the freedom of her own house.

  “I see you are surprised,” Darcy said. “It is true that we had a rather rocky beginning, though I believe we sail onto calmer waters.”

  “Ah hah,” Mr. Bennet said. “So that would account for our conversation in the carriage.”

  “Your conversation?” Darcy asked.

  “Never mind, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said. “If you have something to say to Lizzy, get on with saying it. Of all my daughters, she can be trusted to know her own mind. She will have you or not, and you might as well find out which it is to be.”

  Darcy nodded. “I have every hope of seeing you in your library soon, Mr. Bennet.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded and set off down the darkened hall.

  Darcy stood still for some minutes. What conversation had they had in the carriage? While Mr. Bennet would not say, Darcy had the impression that it had gone decidedly in his favour. And then, of course, there had been much discussion about walking at Pemberley. Elizabeth Bennet had not appeared at all opposed to walking the grounds of Pemberley.

  Mr. Bennet had said that his daughter would know her own mind. He did not doubt the lady would not toy with his affections. She would either have him or not, and as her father had pointed out, he might as well discover which it was to be.

  Darcy entered the library just as the Bennets were going out to the carriage. Mr. Bennet nodded his thanks. Lydia Bennet threw her head back defiantly. Kitty Bennet dried her eyes with her shawl and smiled weakly.

  As they made their way to the front doors, Elizabeth stood motionless in the library, near the windows that looked over the lawn and the drive. She would face Mr. Darcy’s censure as best she could. Regardless of his new opinion of the Bennets, he must be thanked for his actions.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said. His tone was serious, just as she had expected.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, “I must thank you, my father must thank you…”

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Darcy said. “The fault is mine. I well knew what Wickham was capable of and hid the knowledge to protect myself.”

  “To protect Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes. And so, all that has occurred is that your young sister was found to be as gullible as my own had once been.”

  Elizabeth was momentarily taken aback. She had not thought of it in those terms. Indeed, Miss Darcy had been taken in, too. Elizabeth had wholly condemned Lydia, knowing how rash the girl could be, but perhaps a girl Lydia’s age could not be counted on to avoid being swept away by compliments from a man like Mr. Wickham. After all, Lydia had believed she was on her way to Gretna Green to be married.

  “Mr. Bennet mentioned I was the subject of a conversation in the carriage?” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth blushed. Why on earth had her father mentioned that?

  “I had the impression that it did not entirely go against me,” Darcy said.

  “Indeed, it did not,” Elizabeth said. “I was forced to own that my opinions, which had been rather stupid, had changed.”

  “I find I have myself held many stupid opinions for most of my life and have been forced to own them also.”

  “It seems we both go on very stupidly,” Elizabeth said, smiling.

  “It would make sense, it seems to me,” Darcy said, “seeing as we do go on stupidly, that we might go on together.”

  Elizabeth wondered if her heart had stopped beating. It felt as if there was not enough air in the room. Was he asking? It seemed so, but the question had as yet not been straightforwardly put.

  “Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, you must know my feelings. I would not have written that letter, on such a private family matter, to anybody but you. I would not trust anybody but you. You must have known it when you read it. There will be no other, regardless of your answer. I am not worthy, I am sure, but as it happens, you are my Marjorie Milleston.”

  Darcy paused. Elizabeth waited for the question. He must say it, not walk around it. She could not suppose she understood anything by understanding she was Marjorie Milleston—she could not answer until he had positively asked the question!

  “Would you, is it possible, that you would consent to marry?”

  Elizabeth began to breathe again. “I will,” she said. “Goodness, I will.”

  Darcy grasped Elizabeth’s hands in his. “Bingley believes himself to be the luckiest man alive and I will not disabuse him of the idea. I will just be content to know he is wrong.”

  As they stood together, gazing out on the lawn and the torches that lined the drive, they watched the Bennet’s carriage clatter away into the darkness.

  “I will see your father in the morning,” Darcy said, as he kissed her hands.

  “He will be surprised,” Elizabeth said, looking with wonder at her newly kissed hands.

  “I think he will not,” Darcy said. “I have already hinted to him that he might expect me.”

  “Ah,” Elizabeth said, regaining some of her usual composure, “you were certain of my answer?”

  “No,” Darcy said, “but if you refused, I thought I might use Bingley’s strategy to good effect. You are a compassionate lady and I do not think you would allow me to throw myself off a bridge.”

  “Indeed I would not!” Elizabeth said. “Now, sir, pray tell me of Marjorie Milleston. The Colonel once mentioned my resemblance to the lady, but I did not inquire further as I was in the midst of a vast array of stupid opinions.”

  Darcy then told Elizabeth of the extraordinary Miss Milleston and her ability to make Lady Violet fade into the wallpaper. Elizabeth was well-satisfied with the tale and could only agree that Darcy must be her Lord Dunston.

  What was left of the evening passed in a pleasant haze for Elizabeth. She and Darcy returned to the supper, confirming that Lydia Bennet was on her way home under the care of her father and sister, and sure to recover speedily from what ailed her.

  As Emma had predicted, Sir Harry had indeed found Kitty Bennet tenderhearted to leave with her sister. He seemed much struck by it and while Emma knew she ought not meddle, it had been impossible to avoid enumerating Miss Katherine Bennet’s charms to his eager ears.

  Mrs. Bennet remained ignorant of Lydia’s adventure. The lady had not even noticed that her entire family had been missing for quite some time. She had been too busy bragging of the brilliant match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. When she was informed that Lydia was ill, she did not dwell on the idea. She had far too much to talk about to pay mind to a daughter whose only claim on her attention was to be sick. Nobody ever died of a cold, is what she said upon hearing the news.

  Georgiana was blissfully unaware that George Wickham had recently been so nearby and had nearly committed the same crime he’d tried to perpetrate upon herself. Lord Jameson, whatever he was saying to her, seemed to have a particular ability to make her laugh and blush and laugh again.

  Caroline Bingley dined with Lord Wainwright, that gentleman appearing to be a prisoner of war more than anything else.

  Charlotte and Mr. Claymore had a lively conversation with Mr. Collins and Mary about the state of their neighborhood in Kent. While Mr. Collins advised always agreeing with Lady Catherine on every subject, Mr. Claymore advised thwarting the lady when she attempted to rearrange the house.

  Miss Mallory and the Colonel dined together with Mr. and Mrs. Mallory and, much to everybody’s surprise, Mr. Mallory did not lecture on estate management. It was likely that poor man was rather frightened of the Colonel’s connections. The son of an earl would be no small thing for Mr. Mallory to contemplate.

  Elizabeth and Darcy were oblivious to most that was said at table, as they had much to discuss between them. Though Elizabeth thought she knew Darcy to be strict in his adherence to convention, she real
ized that once again she had been mistaken. He boldly held her hand underneath the tablecloth.

  Darcy had only talked of walking at Pemberley, and now he spoke of the house. Elizabeth had assumed it would be a grand sort of place, though his description of it sent a shiver of terror through her. She had never thought of managing an army of servants. She was somewhat mollified by the information that Mrs. Reynolds kept things well in hand.

  There was a London house, too. They both agreed that the house should be used for its logical purpose—to launch Georgiana. She would come out the following year and they would do their best by her. They would do the same for Elizabeth’s sisters, once they had gained some sense.

  Otherwise, they did not think they would spend the majority of their time in town. Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana and Lord Jameson and hinted that, in the end, it might be a short debutante season.

  They had parted reluctantly, with one last squeeze of her hand, but secure in their future.

  Netherfield having been emptied of revelers, the inhabitants sat in the drawing room, Bingley, Darcy and the Colonel over port and Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy with small glasses of mulled wine. Their various overnight guests, including Lord Wainwright and Lord Jameson had retired for the night, it being good form to allow the hosts a moment when they need not entertain.

  “Outstanding evening, Bingley,” the Colonel said.

  “I am surprised you noticed, Colonel,” Miss Bingley said archly. “You seemed entirely caught up with Miss Mallory.”

  “Yes,” the Colonel answered, “that is why it was outstanding. Though I notice Lord Wainwright did not linger before taking his leave up the stairs.”

  Miss Bingley appeared uncertain as to whether she was being teased or insulted. Liking neither, she rose. “I will emulate that gentleman and go up. Good evening.”

  Darcy had hoped Miss Bingley would take herself off. He wished to share his news with his family and his friend. He did not wish to note Miss Bingley’s lack of enthusiasm regarding the Bennets. Nothing should taint his engagement to Elizabeth.

  Darcy set down his glass and said, “I have news that may come as a surprise. I fear a rather large surprise, as I am not known for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I doubt any of you could have guessed my intentions this night. I have asked Miss Bennet for her hand. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I go to her father on the morrow.”

  Silence hung in the room. As Darcy had feared, he had shocked them all.

  Then, congratulations broke out from every side.

  “Just like Marjorie Milleston. I knew it!” the Colonel said.

  “I did not know it,” Bingley said, “but I am delighted. We will marry sisters and find ourselves much together by their arrangements.”

  “I did not know it,” Georgiana said, “but I dearly wished it. Well done, brother, I knew you would pick wisely and you have. There could not be anybody better than Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Bingley cleared his throat. “Jane Bennet?”

  “Emily Mallory?” the Colonel said.

  “Very well,” Georgiana said, laughing. “I amend my statement. There could not be anybody better for my brother than Elizabeth Bennet.”

  Bingley and the Colonel raised their glasses. “Hear, hear.”

  The following morning after breakfast saw Darcy’s prompt arrival at Longbourn. He was, even now, closeted with Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth thought she ought to sit demurely in the drawing room, waiting to be called in to her father. Instead, she lingered in the hall, already knowing the outcome of the interview. There would be no need to be called in after Darcy came out—she had gone to her father late last night, as he sat alone in his library reflecting on Lydia.

  As Darcy had predicted, Mr. Bennet had not been surprised by his daughter’s news, nor did he have any objection to it once he was convinced of Elizabeth’s heart. Mr. Darcy might be over serious, but Mr. Bennet was confident that Lizzy could cure him of that particular tendency of temperament. Mr. Darcy was a man of action, as Mr. Bennet had seen for himself that very night, and that was to be admired. All else regarding the gentleman appeared most satisfactory, not the least of which was ten thousand a year.

  Elizabeth and her father had ended their conversation with Mr. Bennet wondering if Mrs. Bennet did not have some unnatural prescience regarding matters of the heart. It could not be usual that a mother determined to marry off her five daughters had disposed of three of them so rapidly. Elizabeth had laughed and said that her mama only maintained an unnatural hope that had, inexplicably, been rewarded.

  After she left her father, she’d climbed the stairs and told Jane and Emma. To say that they were surprised was an understatement.

  Jane, in particular, expressed serious concern. Jane, who had formed a natural and easy attachment to Mr. Bingley upon their first meeting, could not quite understand how one went from utter disdain to love.

  “Lizzy,” she said, “are you certain that you do not misunderstand your feelings? Could it only be that you are grateful to Mr. Darcy for saving Lydia?”

  “Indeed, I am grateful for it, but that is not the cause. In truth, I thought Lydia’s actions would bring an end to any possibility with Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “Miraculously, they did not.”

  “But how…” Jane trailed off.

  “I cannot explain the whole of it,” Elizabeth said. “I will only say that I had entirely misjudged who he was. Who he is. He really is the best sort of person. I think I might have loved him all along but could not see it past my own wrong assumptions.”

  Emma and Jane stared at each other.

  “Well!” Emma said, “if Lizzy has decided that he is the best sort of person, we must be convinced of it. Though my instincts did not point you in that direction at all.”

  Elizabeth had laughed. “No, cousin. But remember which direction you did point me in.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Bingley. Goodness, I suppose I had everything backward and mixed-up. Though I did say Mr. Darcy reminded me of Mr. Knightley. I at least got that right, did I not?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, “I believe you did. Though perhaps without the many lessons Mr. Knightley is so fond of.”

  “Poor Mr. Knightley,” Emma said. “He does not mean anything by it. He only cannot help himself when he notes me going astray.”

  “Lizzy,” Jane said, “if you are happy, then I am happy.”

  Elizabeth had jumped to her sister’s side of the bed and said, “I am over the moon, Jane.”

  Now, as Elizabeth leaned against the wall waiting for Mr. Darcy to emerge from Mr. Bennet’s library, Mrs. Bennet walked toward her. “What do you do here, Lizzy?” she asked, it not being usual for anybody in the house to loiter in that hall.

  Elizabeth had thought carefully on how she should inform Mrs. Bennet of this new development. She had convinced her father that it would be far better for the news to come from her. Elizabeth had decided that saying it quickly, as if it were the most usual thing in the world, might go some way to keeping her mama’s feet on the ground.

  “Mr. Darcy is with my father, asking for my hand,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly.

  Mrs. Bennet staggered and dropped the linens in her hands. Elizabeth bent to pick them up. “Now, mama, you are to be good about it. Mr. Darcy will not like a fuss made.”

  “Lizzy! Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet sputtered. “Ten thousand a year!”

  “Yes, I have heard,” Elizabeth said. “Though that is not why I marry him.”

  Mrs. Bennet suddenly appeared puzzled. “Then, why do you marry him?” she asked.

  “I love him,” Elizabeth said.

  “Love him? Mr. Darcy?”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Dear me,” Elizabeth said, “you would all have a much better opinion of him were it not for my own mistake.”

  Mrs. Bennet took the linens handed it back to her. “Mr. Darcy. Goodness,” she said softly. She wandered down the hall quietly repeating, “Mr. Darcy.”

  Just as Mrs. Bennet turned a corner and disappeared from
view, Mr. Collins appeared.

  “Miss Bennet!” he said. “I discovered last evening that Lady Catherine does not stay at Netherfield. I had hoped to visit her and smooth out whatever unpleasantness was between you, on account of something she may have misunderstood in my letter, but she is not even there! Further, Mr. Bingley hinted that Mr. Darcy sent her away! What can this mean?”

  Elizabeth smiled at the nervous clergyman. “It means, Mr. Collins, that Lady Catherine was very much opposed to any sort of attachment between me and Mr. Darcy. However, Mr. Darcy found himself very much opposed to her opinion and threw her out.”

  For the second time in a half hour a person staggered in the hall. Mr. Collins flailed at a picture to steady himself and brought it down off the wall and onto his head. Staring at the cracked frame, he said, “Threw her out? One does not throw Lady Catherine de Bourgh from a house. It is she that throws people out.”

  “I am certain that is usually the case,” Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Darcy emerged from her father’s library. Elizabeth smiled.

  Mr. Collins dropped the picture and it clattered to the floor. “Mr. Darcy!” he said in a breathless voice.

  Darcy paid no heed to the clergyman. He strode to Elizabeth and clasped her hands in his. “It is done,” he said.

  “Done!” Mr. Collins cried. “But…what…you…Mr. Bennet…you do not mean to say…No…Lady Catherine! She will be furious!”

  Darcy turned to Mr. Collins, as if he’d just become aware of his presence. “Sir,” he said, “if you expect to have any chance at all for marital felicity, the sooner you learn to stand up to my aunt, the better. It has done wonders for me.”

  Darcy took Elizabeth’s arm and they strolled down the hall, leaving Mr. Collins dumbfounded.

  “Should we walk, Elizabeth?”

  “I think we should,” Elizabeth said. “If you are agreeable, we will walk outside to the hive in the back garden and tell the bees.”