To Conquer Mr. Darcy

of the ground was good; the hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. She looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it, with delight. She could not have been better pleased, and could barely credit that she would someday be mistress of all this.

She was interested to notice that Darcy, in his interactions with the servants, showed none of the pride or reserve that she had observed at Netherfield, and seemed overall to be of a gentler disposition than had been the case in the past. Never in her life had she seen his manners so little dignified, and when he introduced her to his housekeeper, a respectable-looking, elderly woman by the name of Mrs. Reynolds, the affection between the two was apparent. His attentions to her aunt and uncle were all that was civil, and they clearly enjoyed his conversation. All in all, she felt that she had never before been so pleased with his behavior in company. She hardly knew what to make of the change, which made it all the more difficult to maintain her reserve as she tried to demonstrate her pleasure in his conduct through the warmth of her manner.

After dinner Darcy suggested a twilight stroll through the gardens, an idea that appealed to Elizabeth very much. She had seen enough of the beauty of the park through the windows to make her anxious for a chance to explore it, but she was willing to settle for the gardens for today. The Gardiners and Georgiana considerately declined the invitation, so the two set off on their own. Elizabeth was of two minds about being alone with him again, finding that she both desired and feared it.

“So, what think you of Pemberley, my love?” he asked.

“It is everything that is delightful and charming, and lives up to all the praise it has received. I cannot make a single complaint so far,” she said warmly.

“Then it pleases you? Will you be content to live here?” There was a certain eagerness in his voice, like a little boy anxious to please.

She was tempted to make a teasing response, but a look at his face suggested that this was not the moment for it. “I believe that I shall be very happy here, provided, of course, that you are here as well.”

His look of satisfaction showed how well her words had pleased him, and she was glad to have discovered an indirect means to indicate her affection, since she could not yet feel comfortable expressing open affection and using endearments as he did. “I believe, my love, that it will be difficult to tear me from your side once we are married. That reminds me, however, that we do have an obligation to discuss our wedding plans.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, we can discuss them all you please, but I have a suspicion that I have ceded all of my choices by leaving for a month immediately after becoming engaged. My mother will no doubt have everything arranged to her satisfaction by the time I return. At least I had a say in choosing the bridegroom!”

Darcy looked in doubt as to how seriously he should take her remarks; clearly there was little he would not put past Mrs. Bennet. To relieve his uncertainty, she added, “Do you have particular thoughts about the wedding?” She found that she still was not quite prepared to say ‘our wedding.’

“Bingley suggested to me that we consider a double ceremony, which seems a pleasant notion, and would certainly save a good deal of work,” —not to mention making the occasion a good deal sooner than it would otherwise be,— “if you do not think six weeks too soon.” It was far longer than he would like.

Six weeks! Elizabeth thought. I am still having trouble believing that I am marrying at all, though after what happened today, it is perhaps best not to wait too long. She tried to imagine walking these paths in six weeks as the Mistress of Pemberley, and failed completely. “I suppose it would make sense to do so, if you are willing. I could write to Jane to suggest it, and if she is agreeable, she could propose it to my mother.”

“Unless your mother has already decided on it by herself,” he said, with just a hint of a smile. Reaching over, he tidied a tendril of her hair that had come loose. “I am not certain I wish to spend time among the gossiping people of Meryton at the moment. I fear that I am not forgiving toward people who try to hurt you, my love.”

She looked up at him affectionately. “I would imagine not. Your sense of loyalty is something I have always admired, even when I disliked you—or perhaps, in the interest of marital felicity, I should say ‘before I realized that I liked you.’”

“I think I would prefer that,” he said in a teasing manner, “but so long as you do not change your mind again, you may say whatever you like.”

“Though we both have reason to think my opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, as easily changed as that implies.”

“I believe you; but then again, I know what it took to change your mind the first time. I am glad not to have to do that again.”

She glanced up at him flirtatiously. “It seemed to me that there were at least a few moments along the way that you enjoyed. Some of your, umm, arguments were quite persuasive.”

“I will not deny that I enjoy… persuading you,” he said, his gaze intent, but then he seemed to withdraw for a moment. He had spent a good deal of time since that afternoon establishing strict criteria for his behavior with her. His loss of control earlier had shaken his faith in himself. “Elizabeth,” he added, his voice serious.

“Yes?”

He chose his words carefully. “You would perhaps be wise not to offer me any encouragement during your stay here.”

She was initially puzzled by his words, but as she took his meaning, her cheeks flushed with shame. She was under no illusion that her behavior earlier in response to his kisses had been anything but discreditable, but had been of the opinion he was pleased by it; certainly it had seemed as if he had encouraged it, on this as on past occasions. Apparently, though, he had different standards for propriety at Pemberley, where he had an image to uphold—or perhaps it was lingering doubts from the rumors in Hertfordshire—and obviously felt she had failed to take responsibility for preventing such occurrences. She felt ill even thinking of it— well, she decided, if he wants proper behavior from me, he will certainly get it now. She did not think she could bear to have him touch her, knowing what he thought of her.

She had her pride as well, though, and straightened her shoulders before she spoke. “Very well, sir; you shall have no cause for concern, I assure you,” she said in a voice well suited for a social occasion. Why, why, why do I keep letting down my defenses to him? I cannot believe that I have allowed this to happen again. She could feel the first stirrings of anger at him, but knew she must protect against that as well.

He smiled, unnoticed by Elizabeth whose eyes were fixed firmly ahead, and said, “I appreciate it.”

“Mr. Darcy, I find that I am feeling somewhat fatigued. Perhaps we could return to the house?” She wanted nothing more at the moment than to escape his presence and the utter humiliation she felt at his rebuke.

His brow furrowed in concern. He had never heard her complain of fatigue on a walk before, certainly not on such a short one; perhaps she might be falling ill. He took her hand in his and asked, “Are you well, my love?” He was startled when she pulled her hand away, rather ungently, he thought. “What is the matter?”

The temptation to make an angry response was great, but Elizabeth forced herself to remain cognizant of the need for her to learn the arts of compromise and peacemaking. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then said, “I am not pleased by your implication that I am at fault for encouraging you.”

Darcy looked at her in bewilderment. How had she come upon the idea that he was criticizing her? Aware that their disagreements had a tendency toward escalation, he sought to find common ground. “I fear that we have somehow misunderstood one another, then, since I did not intend to make any such implication, and it would be unjust if I did.”

Unsure whether to believe him, she asked, “May I ask, then, what you did intend to say?”

It was his turn to look away, his cheeks tinged with red. “My intention was to ask your assistance in curbing my behavior lest it become out of hand.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth’s color rose. “I did misunderstand you, then. My apologies, sir.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“I… assumed that you disapproved of my behavior.”

“Elizabeth, the next time you believe that I disapprove of something you have done, please ask me, because