Elizabeth and Darcy- Ardently Yours

by Evangeline Wright

  “Elizabeth, do you not understand? When your uncle demanded I promise to marry you as a matter of honor, he placed the object of my most fervent desire squarely in my hands. I had only to close my fingers over it, to indicate my assent, and my months of torment would be at an end. You cannot know what it cost me to refuse him. I might have made you mine then, as surely as if you had accepted me yourself.

  “But you had not accepted me, and I could not forget it. I hoped your opinion of me had improved since April. I fancied that your intervention on Georgiana’s behalf implied that you might regard her as a sister. Still, you had refused me once, and I could not feel so secure in the alteration of your sentiments as to relieve you of any choice in the matter.”

  His voice softened to a whisper. “I promised your uncle nothing, Elizabeth, because I so desperately desired another opportunity to promise you everything.”

  Elizabeth was far too overwhelmed to say a word, but what her lips could not express, her other features seemed determined to divulge. She closed her eyes too late to stem the hot, traitorous tears that spilled down her cheeks. Her chin began to quiver inexcusably, and she bit the inside of her cheek in rebuke. Mr. Darcy released her wrists, and her eyes flickered open at the sensation of his hands gently cupping her face.

  “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he murmured, erasing a tear with a gentle sweep of his thumb. He slowly inclined his head to hers until his lips rested lightly against her forehead. She gasped slightly and shut her eyes once again.

  For some moments they remained thus, silent and immobile, as though he expected her to recover her senses and retreat at any instant. Elizabeth’s good sense, however, had abdicated altogether to sensation—or more accurately, a multitude of exquisite sensations that only increased as Mr. Darcy’s lips trailed a series of soft, barely perceptible kisses along her brow, grazed gently over her eyelid, and traversed the ridge of her cheekbone until his breath whispered warm against her ear.

  “Will you have me, Elizabeth?” He drew back slightly, squaring his shoulders with practiced dignity, his anxious gaze searching her expression for encouragement.

  Slowly, deliberately, she curved the corners of her mouth into a reassuring smile, and Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened with pleasure. He cleared his throat gently and released her face to take her hand in his.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he pronounced with affected solemnity and a poorly concealed smile of his own, “will you do me the inestimable honor of becoming my wife?”

  Elizabeth, feeling all the awkwardness and anxiety of the situation instantly dissipate, now forced herself to speak. Her struggle for fluency was not prolonged, for there was but one word that truly needed to be spoken, and Mr. Darcy’s happiness upon hearing that long-desired reply was immediately and warmly expressed. The look of heartfelt delight that diffused over his face became him greatly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly before gathering her into a gentle embrace and pressing his cheek to hers. Long-repressed thoughts, emotions, and promises now tumbled forth from each of them, liberally interspersed with novel endearments that quickly became familiar.

  When the chestnut tree’s generous shade began to dwindle in the midday sun, Elizabeth reluctantly withdrew from his embrace with a contented sigh. “We had best return to the house soon, before my father and uncle have occasion to note our absence.” Mr. Darcy nodded in agreement, and they set a slow pace in the direction of Longbourn. “I do not envy you the task of approaching my father,” she told him. “After my uncle’s report of your last conversation, I am afraid he holds you in very low regard.”

  “I can easily believe it. And how those words must have pained you! You must have thought me devoid of every proper feeling.”

  “I thought you must have hated me,” she admitted. “You trusted your sister to my keeping, and I failed that trust so miserably. And then reading her letter—I felt my guilt increase with each distressing line! I might as well have pushed her into Wickham’s arms. Certainly, I expected such to be your own conclusion. I should not have blamed you for severing all acquaintance with me.”

  Mr. Darcy’s astonishment was sincere. “Blame you? Hate you? Never.” He kissed her hand and tucked it securely into the crook of his arm. “I was exceedingly angry, to be sure, but never with you. How are you to be blamed for the romantic notions of a young lady known to you less than a week, much less for the subtle scheming of a scoundrel such as Wickham?”

  Elizabeth could not be satisfied with this reassurance. “Oh, but then I went rushing off to London!” she cried. “I involved myself and my relations in what ought to have been your private family matter, with no thought to the consequences! I am afraid to ask what your reaction was, when you called on my uncle that morning and he told you of my interference. Did you not think me terribly impertinent?

  “No, indeed. I thought you remarkable.” He looked down at her with a smile, but his expression turned serious as he continued. “I cannot express to you my relief at finding Georgiana safe at Darcy House that evening. You could not comprehend what vile images tormented me as I attempted to imagine her likely whereabouts at that hour. Indeed, I returned to the house only with the intention of obtaining fresh clothes and a fresh horse, and to dispatch an express to Colonel Fitzwilliam. To learn that she was already at home—to go to her chamber and see with my own eyes how she slept there, so peacefully…” His voice choked with emotion, and some moments passed before he continued.

  “My housekeeper gave me your uncle’s card, and I knew immediately to whom I owed this miracle. When your uncle acquainted me with the details of Wickham’s apprehension, my object then was to ensure that your efforts should not be wasted. You assumed great risks to see Wickham put under lock and key, and my resolution was to make certain, by every ability in my power, that there he would remain. Of course, it was no less than I ought to have done long ago.”

  “How fortunate for me,” said Elizabeth, “that the affair should have reached a satisfactory conclusion! I am not at all certain you would praise my good intentions so readily had their result been less favorable.” She silenced her companion’s immediate protestations with a playful squeeze of his arm. “Oh, but make a virtue of it by all means,” she teased. “For I must confess, even knowing all that I do now, it is likely I would do exactly the same should the situation repeat itself.”

  The prospect of Longbourn loomed suddenly near, and they entered the small garden in which Elizabeth had come upon him so unexpectedly in April. Here Mr. Darcy paused, pulling her behind a tall hedge that concealed them from view of the house. Elizabeth regarded him quizzically.

  “Elizabeth, once we have returned to the house, I shall speak with your father at once. Then I must return to London directly. I fear it may be some days before I am able to return.”

  “But of course!” she replied. “You must be with Georgiana at this time. I shall miss you, certainly, but she needs you.”

  “Thank you for understanding. I shall write you, if I may.” He glanced about the garden, and when his gaze returned to her, it was fixed determinedly on her lips. “It strikes me, however, that these may be our last moments alone for some time, and …”

  “Yes,” she whispered, taking a step toward him.

  If Mr. Darcy sought her permission or invitation, this small gesture seemed to satisfy the requirement. He swiftly gathered her into his arms and pressed her tightly to him, lowering his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. They broke apart briefly, a pause just long enough for Elizabeth to catch her breath. She found it stolen away just as quickly, however, as he murmured her name and renewed the kiss, this time with an ardent urgency that was anything but gentle.

  Long minutes were spent thus in private celebration before they recovered themselves sufficiently to entertain thoughts of rejoining the wedding festivities. At length, they reluctantly agreed it seemed inadvisable, and increasingly improper, to delay any longer.

  Mr. Darcy observed her appreciatively a
s Elizabeth attempted to put her hair to rights. His gaze of open admiration rekindled all the powerful sensations of his kiss, but in a queerly displaced fashion. For she was reasonably certain that at no time during the course of their tender interlude had his lips grazed the uppermost edge of her ear, for all it burned so feverishly now, and certainly not even his boldest caress had approached the tingling hollows of her knees! She blushed furiously as she struggled with her gloves.

  “But there is one last question on which my curiosity has not been satisfied,” he remarked suddenly. “However did you know where to find them?”

  “It was Ramsgate,” she began, explaining to him the series of recollections and deductions which eventually led her to London, and to Bond Street.

  “Darling, clever Elizabeth! What do I not owe you!” He took her hands in his and pressed each to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I assure you sir, I did nothing so extraordinary. I simply spent a lovely afternoon shopping with my aunt!” Her demeanor soon took a pensive turn. “But there is one thing I still owe you, and I cannot forget it. It is a long overdue apology for my uncivil behavior to you at Hunsford, and for the resentment to which I so stubbornly clung even after your letter had removed all justification for it. It was not until my father pointed out the presumption in my actions regarding Georgiana that I understood the extent of my offense. Until that moment, I never knew myself! At once, I saw the folly of all my previous prejudice against you. In persisting in my censure of your interference between Mr. Bingley and Jane, I held you to a higher standard than I held myself. I refused you the right to possess a single fault, all the while persisting in my own flawed behavior.” She rested her forehead against the lapel of his coat. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Mr. Darcy wrapped his arms about her shoulders and held her to his chest as it shook with gentle laughter. “Elizabeth, can you not recall what you told me at Netherfield? What service are our faults, if not to draw us into one another’s confidence and encourage affection?” He kissed the crown of her head firmly.

  “How astute you are, to recollect my every impertinent remark!” she teased, straightening his cravat with a smart tug. “You will puff my pride excessively, you know, if you continue to quote me with all the authority of Plato. I shall become insufferable with my opinions, and then you will regret such encouragement.” She playfully traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers, finding his cheek delightfully rough to the touch and gasping softly as he turned his head to plant an ardent kiss upon her palm. Placing both arms about his neck, she drew him closer until his head inclined to hers.

  “I can think of no one to whom I would rather entrust all my darkest failings,” he said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “I must warn you, for instance, that my capacity for restraint is shamefully imperfect.” His lips met hers again, and they shared a lingering, unhurried kiss that nonetheless ended far too soon for Elizabeth’s preference.

  “Most shameful, indeed!” she teased in an arch tone that soon dissolved into sweetness. “We are both of us undeniably flawed,” she whispered, “but in our imperfections, I believe us to be perfectly matched.”

  This notion met with Mr. Darcy’s immediate agreement, and the passionate embrace that sealed their accord was all that might be supposed of two people so violently in love.

  Epilogue

  Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet spent the greater part of the afternoon in conference behind the closed doors of Mr. Bennet’s library, and Elizabeth was never to wring from either of them an uncensored account of their conversation. When her would-be betrothed at last emerged, patience and composure worn precariously thin, his report was not so grim as she had begun to imagine. Her father had not granted his full consent to an engagement, but neither had he refused Mr. Darcy’s suit outright.

  It fell to Elizabeth to work on her father over the course of the following week, shamelessly abusing every privilege that her status of favorite daughter conferred. With each delivery of the morning post to his hand or his afternoon tea to the library, Mr. Bennet was made to endure an enumeration of Mr. Darcy’s admirable qualities or some energetic assurance of his excellent character.

  In this campaign, Elizabeth found an unwelcome ally in her mother. Mrs. Bennet would not hear a cross word spoken against Mr. Darcy now that he had declared his intentions toward her daughter. If he would supply such carriages and champagne for the wedding of a friend, imagine the luxuries Lizzy would enjoy as Mrs. Darcy herself! And Lizzy’s wedding must be ten times as grand as Jane’s, she declared, as befitting a groom of ten times Mr. Bingley’s consequence.

  Elizabeth grew concerned that her father would find the prospect of further wedding preparations more distasteful than the proposed son-in-law himself. In the end, her assurances regarding the sincerity of their attachment, coupled with the promises of a lengthy engagement and some measure of elusive domestic harmony, were sufficient to sway Mr. Bennet to grudgingly give his consent when Mr. Darcy called a week later.

  The wedding date was set for November. In truth, deference to Mr. Bennet’s frayed forbearance with society was the secondary motive for this prolonged engagement, the paramount consideration being Miss Darcy’s fragile emotional state. Neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy wished to cause his sister additional distress by planning their wedding so close on the heels of her own disappointment.

  At the outset, their courtship was limited to Mr. Darcy’s weekly calls at Longbourn—a most unsatisfactory arrangement for both parties, for just as the obligatory pleasantries with her family were complete and the awkwardness of a week’s separation overcome, the time for leave-taking was already upon them. On one particular occasion, Mr. Darcy arrived at Longbourn in such low spirits that Elizabeth was forced to squander the precious hours in his company applying gentle persuasion until the source of his ill-humor could be drawn out.

  It seemed Lady Catherine had paid a call of her own to Darcy House, with the express purpose of airing her opinions on the unsuitability of his engagement. No amount of persuasion could convince Mr. Darcy to repeat those opinions, but Elizabeth was sufficiently acquainted with Lady Catherine’s character to imagine them. Her own instinct was to laugh away any insult from such an outrageous source, but she wisely observed that Mr. Darcy regarded it as no laughing matter. Indeed, his indignation on Elizabeth’s behalf was such that he resolved to sever all connection with Rosings.

  Elizabeth hoped this breach might one day be repaired, but she had an aunt and uncle of her own whose misgivings she meant to conquer first. While keeping close watch over his sister prevented Mr. Darcy from calling frequently, he did write regularly, and Elizabeth treasured each four-syllable word with which her intended expressed his devotion. For every letter she wrote him in return, Elizabeth penned a shorter note to her Aunt Gardiner, extolling the virtues of her betrothed and expressing her fondest wish of inviting them to Pemberley for Christmas, if only Mr. Darcy might have the opportunity to reestablish himself in her uncle’s esteem.

  Mrs. Gardiner happily surrendered to her niece’s persistent hinting, particularly the great temptation of touring Pemberley’s park in a lovely little phaeton with ponies. Within a matter of weeks, Elizabeth found herself invited for an indefinite stay in Gracechurch Street.

  Elizabeth was uncertain what sort of reception she would find when she first called on Miss Darcy in town. She was glad to discover that the resiliency of youth and passage of time appeared to have worked their charms on the young lady’s disposition. Georgiana greeted her future sister with a warm embrace, and the two ladies quickly devised plans for pleasant mornings spent practicing duets at the pianoforte or driving round the park. The idea of shopping, however, was curiously never entertained.

  Elizabeth did not want for shopping companions, for her mother soon arrived in town as a guest of the Bingleys. Mrs. Bennet was beside herself with glee at the prospect of having not only more time to plan this wedding, but access
to the infinite selection of wares afforded by London shops. So pleased was Mr. Bennet at his wife’s removal to town, he magnanimously increased her allotted funds as well.

  Little could either of her parents have supposed that Elizabeth would not be their next daughter married. Mr. Bennet arrived unexpectedly in Gracechurch Street one afternoon bearing a letter from Colonel Forster. It seemed that Lydia had become betrothed to Lieutenant Denny, and from the Colonel’s insinuations, a brief engagement would be most advisable.

  On discussing this development with her own betrothed, Elizabeth was gratified to learn that he shared her sense of responsibility in the matter—not for Lydia’s imprudent behavior, certainly, but at least for the circumstances which led to her installment in Brighton. They agreed that Elizabeth’s dowry of one thousand pounds, the impact of which would scarcely be felt on Mr. Darcy’s own accounts, should be added to Lydia’s thousand. Furthermore, Mr. Darcy would consult with Colonel Fitzwilliam about purchasing a more profitable commission for Denny as a wedding gift. These arrangements were settled quietly among Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Gardiner, with the result of elevating the first gentleman greatly in the eyes of the other two. They reasoned that Mr. Denny’s improved pay, when combined with Lydia’s dowry and the one hundred pounds per annum Mr. Bennet proposed to settle on her, ought to provide the couple with a sufficiently comfortable income. This line of reasoning assumed, of course, that Lydia could be reconciled to living within their modest means.

  Come Michaelmas, the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Denny had departed to join his new regiment in the North, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had repaired to Hertfordshire, leaving the Bingleys, Gardiners, Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy to form a very agreeable society of six. The group spent many a delightful evening dining at the Bingley residence or attending the theater as guests of Mr. Darcy.

  Before the excitement of Lydia’s brief engagement, Mr. Gardiner took to his role as Elizabeth’s chaperone with stern vigilance, but his severity gradually softened as his opinion of Mr. Darcy improved. The couple found increasing opportunities for private conversation in a corner of the drawing room, leisurely drives about town in his carriage, or pleasant walks in the park.