“Next week?” Elizabeth said faintly. It had never occurred to her that Jane might not be at her wedding, and she felt grateful to Darcy for his consideration.
“You are repeating yourself, my dearest,” Darcy said, allowing his lips to explore her hair with complete disregard for his own ability to concentrate.
“You were very confident of my acceptance, it seems,” she said.
“It would be more accurate to say I was hopeful, and I confess to enough impatience that the idea of having to marry sooner rather than later has a certain appeal to me.” He paused to steal a quick kiss. “I understand that you may have other priorities, however; it is more of a change for you than for me.”
“I don’t know…” Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the change he was proposing, she let her head rest against his shoulder.
Darcy’s attention seemed distracted for a moment. “Have you told your mother about us yet?” he asked.
“No, she has no idea, though I have discussed it with my father.”
“I fear that she may have just found out,” he said.
Elizabeth turned quickly to see Mrs. Bennet retreating rapidly toward the house in the company of Mrs. Philips, who was clearly offering consolation to her distressed friend. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I had best go to her, then,” she said with some trepidation, knowing the scene to follow had the potential to become quite unpleasant and undignified. “Perhaps you could return to speak with my father this evening.”
“I think there is no time like the present, and I certainly do not wish to leave you to face the inquisition on your own.”
Reluctantly, she said, “To tell the truth, this is likely to be embarrassing at best, and likely much worse, and I would prefer not to subject myself to the mortification of having you watch it.”
He touched her cheek. “Elizabeth, I can tolerate your mother. Please have faith in me.”
This being an approach Elizabeth would have been hard put to reject, she agreed to allow him to accompany her. He paused only to kiss her lightly. “Remember that I love you,” he murmured in her ear.
She turned and looked steadily at him. “I depend upon it,” she replied.
“As I depend on you, my sweetest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar! You have no idea what has happened,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You must come and make Mr. Darcy marry Lizzy!
“Mr. Darcy! Madam, I doubt I could make Mr. Darcy give me the time of day, if he were not so inclined, so I would hesitate to believe that I could make him marry anyone, least of all Lizzy, for whom you have always told me he has had the greatest indifference!”
“Nonsense, how can you talk so! You take delight in vexing me! They are just now in the garden together, and, oh, Mr. Bennet, what shall we ever do?”
“You may tell him from me, madam, that he has my full permission to be in the garden whenever he chooses, and that should put an end to the matter!”
Unable to contain herself, Mrs. Bennet cried in vexation. “You have no compassion for my poor nerves! And what shall become of poor Lizzy?”
The subjects of the conversation chose this moment to make their appearance, having overheard the previous remarks. Darcy, with his most correct social manner covering what to Elizabeth was obviously repressed laughter, bowed most correctly to his hostess. “Mrs. Bennet, a pleasure to see you again. And do I recollect that this is your sister? It has been far too long, madam.” Without allowing time for anyone else to speak, he turned to Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet, would it be possible for me to speak with you privately regarding a matter of some importance?”
Mr. Bennet looked him up and down. “Well, Mr. Darcy, I cannot imagine what you would have to say to me that would be of any import, but you are welcome to join me in the library, where it is certainly much quieter. I understand you have already taken a tour of the gardens.”
Darcy cast Elizabeth a look of amused apprehension as he disappeared with her father. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her mother.
“Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “How could you do this to us! Have you no regard for my nerves? You will disgrace us all!”
Lizzy pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I am sorry to hear that. I certainly hope that any disgrace of mine will not dissuade Mr. Darcy, since we have only just become engaged. He is asking my father for my hand as we speak.”
The effect of this communication was quite extraordinary, for on hearing it, Mrs. Bennet found herself quite unable to utter a syllable. She managed to recover herself under the excited ministrations of Mrs. Philips, and expressed herself in such a tumult of joy as to make Elizabeth exceedingly grateful for Darcy’s absence. She could not give her consent, or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings.
“Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh, my dear Lizzy! Pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me, I shall go distracted.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy, what can I do for you today?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“Sir, I would like to ask for the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Darcy said formally.
“Ah, yes, Lizzy. A bit overdue in approaching me, aren’t you?”
“Your daughter can be difficult to convince, sir.”
“By you? Not that I would have noticed, Mr. Darcy. But no matter—the question is why are you asking my consent?”
Darcy paused, puzzled. He had thought his request perfectly clear. “I would like your consent to marry your daughter.”
“Yes, yes, you want to marry Lizzy; that shows fine taste on your part, if a certain degree of disregard for your own peace of mind. But I fail to see where
“Sir, I do not have the honor of following your meaning.”
“Well, then, Lizzy has told me she plans to marry you with or without my consent, so it seems that there is no need to ask it, is there?”
“Your daughter says a good many things, Mr. Bennet, but she does not speak for me;
“You would like that, would you? And will it stop you if I fail to give my consent?” Mr. Bennet asked affably.
Darcy steepled his fingers and was silent for a minute. “No, sir, it will not.”
“Then it certainly seems to be a waste of your time and energy to be debating the issue with a difficult old man!”
Darcy was beginning to understand the source of Elizabeth’s playful sense of humor. “Possibly, sir, but I consider it good practice for dealing with your daughter.”
“Point taken, young man. So, why should I give you permission to marry Lizzy? I believe we can skip over the discussion of your material prospects, and I am willing to take your tender regard for her as a given.” Mr. Bennet sat back, clearly relishing the discussion.
