Page 74 of To Win Her Affections

Mr. Darcy grimaced, but he did not hesitate to respond. “That is one of the most critical, yes.”

After a brief pause in which he considered what to say, Mr. Darcy spoke. “Last night, I was tempted to write her a letter.”

“Unless I have misunderstood your aunt,” teased Elizabeth, “that would be an invitation to make her sentiments known.”

With a grin, he said: “No, Miss Bennet, you have not misunderstood her. Had I done it that way, she would be in London the day she received it, unless she went straight to Hertfordshire.”

“That would not be welcome,” said Elizabeth, wincing at the thought.

“Just so,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “When we have retrieved your sister and settled her situation, one of my first tasks will be to speak to her ladyship. Telling her in person will not prevent her fury, but it should blunt any displays she might make.”

“I will be the Jezebel who has tempted you away from your duty,” said Elizabeth, not entirely in jest.

“If I can prevent her from saying as much to you, I will count it a success.”

Elizabeth nodded, hesitating for a moment before addressing him. “Mr. Darcy, I wish to say that I am also pleased the matter is now resolved. If you are agreeable, I should like at least a few months of engagement—it would do us both good to come to know each other better.”

Instead of an immediate response, Mr. Darcy caught her hand and raised it to his lips. “With that, I could not agree more. There will be plenty of time to see to the wedding later. We do not need to rush.”

“Then you had better go.” Elizabeth smiled at him, one calculated to show her confidence in him. “Please take care, Mr. Darcy. Now that you have promised yourself to me, I expect you to return in good order.”

“I always take care, Miss Bennet. Wickham is far too much of a coward to do anything that will land him in further trouble.”

“And yet he has done this,” said Elizabeth. “There is no need to quibble about this, Mr. Darcy. Please just exercise caution.”

“I shall,” promised the gentleman.

Then he kissed her hand again and excused himself, leaving Elizabeth to sink into the sofa, her hand tingling from the impression of his lips on her bare skin. Though Elizabeth had agreed to stay behind, she had done so because she knew they would never allow her to accompany them. It would be a long wait for them to return, no matter how quickly they managed it, and Elizabeth had nothing to do but wait. With a sigh, she rose to speak to the housekeeper. If she must wait, she might at least accomplish something, preparing the household to make her aunt’s return easier when it came.

Chapter XVIII

Silence held sway in the carriage as it proceeded away from Gracechurch Street. As Darcy studied the other three men, he did not think it was difficult to imagine their thoughts. Fitzwilliam was contemplating the great pleasure he would take from Wickham’s downfall, while Mr. Bennet was considering the decisions that had led to this place, where he was about to lose his youngest daughter in every practical sense. Gardiner was the most difficult of the three, but Darcy suspected he was considering what would need to be done once Lydia was found.

As for Darcy himself, his thoughts were a jumble rather than any one subject holding sway. He thought of the tragedy of Miss Lydia, the consequences her adventure would cost, minor considerations of his family’s reaction to his engagement, and how soon he could go to Rosings for the inevitable confrontation with Lady Catherine. In and out of these thoughts, the memory of Miss Elizabeth as he had last seen her before they left the house tied it all together.

Miss Elizabeth, who had pledged herself to him by her own confession for the promise of what they could become to each other. Though he had not considered it much after she had told him of the reasons for her acceptance, that morning’s meeting with her father had given him a different perspective. If he were to put a word to what he felt, that word would be humbled—Darcy was honored that she had put such trust in him. That her father also trusted him—trusted his daughter’s judgment—was a responsibility, and Darcy felt the weight of it. Darcy’s love for her was such that he could not imagine doing anything to betray that trust, but the reality of it was enough to firm his resolve. He would not fail her.

When he thought of the men in her life, Darcy felt a sense of esteem that he had not expected to feel when he had been lost in misplaced pride. Though a tradesman, Mr. Gardiner was more genteel of manners and upright of character than many a gentleman he could name. He was a man Darcy found easy to esteem regardless of his position in society. As for Mr. Bennet, Darcy did not know the man yet, but given his sense of humor and obvious intelligence, Darcy thought he could esteem the man tolerably well. If nothing else, knowing him better would reveal where Miss Elizabeth had inherited those qualities that so entranced him.

“It appears you were correct,” said Mr. Bennet, breaking the quiet in the carriage. “Your driver is taking us into a most unsavory part of town.”

“It is where Wickham is most comfortable,” said Fitzwilliam. “To own the truth, I have long thought that Wickham was more than half rat himself, though I do not say as much to besmirch his excellent father.”

“Your father’s steward, as I recall,” said Mr. Bennet, his gaze finding Darcy.

“Yes,” agreed Darcy. “Old Mr. Wickham was an excellent man, one who managed Pemberley for many years with distinction.”

“It is said that the apple does not fall far from the tree,” observed Mr. Bennet. “In this instance, I suppose that maxim is incorrect.”

Darcy nodded, though he was a little introspective—it had been many months since he had considered Wickham to this extent. “From his father, yes. Wickham’s mother was a grasping sort of woman, always exceeding her husband’s income. In some respects, if you refer to his mother as the tree, Wickham’s apple fell right at the base.”

“I cannot imagine that is all,” said Mr. Gardiner.

“In that you would be correct,” said Darcy, though he was a little uncomfortable speaking of such matters. “As we grew, I suspect that Wickham became ever more aware of the disparity in our situations and resented it.”

“There is no need for suspicion,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Wickham made several comments when we were younger that left no room for interpretation.”

Darcy regarded his cousin for several moments—Fitzwilliam had mentioned no such comments. His cousin returned his steady gaze, and a moment later nodded.