Chapter XXI.
Darcy made his way slowly back to Rosings Park that night. He wished for solitude most, being not one of those whose happiness overflows in mirth, and knew that the sooner he returned to his Aunt's, the less likely he would be able to procure it. Absently he allowed a sigh to escape from him, as he made his way along the short lane that divided Rosings from Hunsford.
A part of him was still in disbelief at all which had occurred this evening. When he had left his Aunt's- much to that formidable woman's annoyance, though he was one of the few who could stand up to Lady Catherine - Darcy had not entertained any hope of the kind that he would be accepted.
Feelings aside, when it came down to practicalities, he was only the son of an ancient if still respectable and influential, landed gentry family, with no title, and, officially at least,- for privately it was a great deal more -ten thousand a year. Proposing to the most eligible Countess in the kingdom was a presumption in itself, let alone adding to it the thought that one might be accepted.
He knew full well what Society would think of the union, even without their jealousy at not being able to catch either of them first. But he did not care what Society thought. He knew his own heart well enough to discount any possibility to himself that he was asking purely out of mercenary means. And by now, he hoped he knew hers well enough as well.
Darcy made his way up the steps that led to the chequered Entrance Hall. He opened the front door carefully, making sure to close it without any undue noise. He had crossed the short space from the doors to the main staircase, when he heard the footfalls of someone coming his way.
Sighing in annoyance at having been so close and yet so far in achieving his goal, Darcy quickened his pace, the need for avoiding detection now negated. When he had reached the first landing, the footfalls increasing their nearness all the while, and acquiring a certain familiarity, he was brought to a halt by the voice of his cousin, who had returned to Rosings somewhat sooner than he..
"Darcy," Richard began, coming to a halt in the middle of the Hall, "we quite despaired of you!"
"Is that my nephew?" called an authoritative tone from the room which the Colonel had just quitted. "Let him come in and explain himself."
"No, forgive me," Darcy spoke quickly, and the last thing he wanted now was for Lady Catherine to hear, when none of Elizabeth's- he could call her Elizabeth now, in both mind and speech, without any restraint -family even knew about it yet. Already he half expected what her response would be.
"If you will excuse me I have a pressing matter of business." He made a move to cover the remaining set of steps. "Make my apologies to Lady Catherine, Fitzwilliam," he added, before disappearing out of sight, leaving his military minded cousin to ponder at the sudden strategy for retreat, and the reason for his absence this evening.
Inside the privacy of his room, Darcy went to his window, leaning an arm upon the frame to support himself as he gazed out upon the prospect before him. His mind was far from Rosings's formal gardens however. Already it had returned to Hunsford, and the rooms which the lady to whom he had long given his heart might be occupied in.
He wondered what she was thinking. If he had managed to dissuade her of the idea that she could ever be unworthy of him, when the opposite was quite clearly the case. She deserved the best, and he was determined that from this moment on, she was going to get it. In his mind's eye, he recalled vividly her expression when she had finally accepted him.
With delight he noted the beauty of her fine eyes as she mulled over their kiss, and her hesitation as she returned the gesture which he had first bestowed upon her. He was pleased that she had consented to a courtship, knowing that she was still not ready for another marriage, even though in his heart he was more than ready to marry her. But his affairs, despite the ground work having been laid out during his separation from her in London, were in no state to welcome the new mistress of Pemberley.
Pemberley's State rooms had been shut up since the death of his mother, his father having never been able to bear sleeping in them after losing his wife, and Darcy himself had seen no need to move from his rooms when he had become master of the estate five years ago.
The rooms of the town house were a little better, but still untouched for over ten years. There were also the preparations to be made for the transferring of those duties usually reserved for the mistress of the house, which he had taken over so much of since his majority.
He also wished for Elizabeth to be happy, to choose her own time, rather than he or any others dictating it for her. An image suddenly appeared before his mind's eye; of his days now fulfilled with complete contentment, spent forever by her side at their home in Derbyshire. Pemberley had been calling out for a new mistress ever since the loss of Lady Anne.
Before Elizabeth, Darcy had only pictured Georgiana as the woman to fulfil that role, never expecting to meet anyone whom he could love. Now, he could not imagine anyone else who would perform the role better than the woman who held his heart.
Reluctantly, Darcy now forced his mind away from these musings. He had spoken the truth to his cousin when he had said that he had a 'pressing matter of business' to attend to, though it was not exactly business. One as close to a sister as he, could never call writing to her a matter of business. He withdrew from the window to his writing table, took out a number of crested papers from a drawer, dipped his pen into the ink pot and began;
Rosings Park, April 9th
My dear Georgie, Your brother writes to you with the happiest of tidings. Indeed, he is so content at this moment, that he can barely give thought to forming his usual coherent sentences. You will deplore the structure of this letter, but I hope soon forget its mistakes, when I inform you of the reason why this is so.
A few hours ago, upon this very evening, I asked the Countess of Saffron Walden to be my wife. As a result of the discussion which I had with my Aunt concerning her wish for myself and Anne to unite our great estates, I made my way over to the Parsonage and made the Countess the offer of my hand. You can have no doubt of the answer being to my liking; I can now call her Elizabeth in both mind and speech without any restraint.
She had some difficulty in believing herself worthy of me, which to my mind is still an absurd notion, but one that I hope I have managed to dissuade her of. I am not worthy of her, that is the truth. You will protest to that I know, but it is so. Your brother is not perfect, no matter how hard he tries to be for his sister's sake. I hope you find me much happier from now on, Georgie. Indeed, perhaps the both of us have needed an addition to our small family for some time. I have no doubt of you and Elizabeth becoming the closest of sisters and best of friends. I sit in my room at Rosings, avoiding our Aunt and cousins, even Richard, far too happy at the moment to inform any one else of my news, save you.
I hope you will not brush this compliment modestly away, but I have been so proud of you my dear Georgie, ever since we returned from Ramsgate. You have been a wonderful balm to my heart and thoughts whenever I had despaired of ever having a hope of succeeding. Every day I see you happy and unaffected makes me thus also. You have become so much more confident, and yet remained the sweet girl I have always adored ever since I had the honour to first call you sister.
There are times when I cross the open door of the music room, look up to see you in your private concert, and almost see the image of our mother before my eyes. You look so much like her. She would be very proud of you if she could see you now. And I am sure she does in spirit. Forgive me, I did not mean to get so nostalgic. I hope you are still enjoying your time in London. I promise to rejoin you soon, and I think you know now what has kept me here, and it was not the delightful company of our Aunt.
Apart from Elizabeth, I delay departure for another, though he will deny all knowledge of what I sure he is feeling. He is rapidly falling victim I believe to the same spell that I am under, and the fair maiden is Elizabeth's friend, Miss Lucas. Do not tease him and let on that what I suspect when you next write to him, though I expect the matter to be brought to a successful conclusion soon.
With regards to the wedding, there will be some time passed before that most joyful day. Elizabeth wishes for a long courtship in order to become accustomed to being married again, and I am happy to wait until she is as willing as I. Preparations need to be made, though my accounts have long been ready for a wife- I happened upon them before I left for Kent, as you can well testify, catching me as you did musing over how well her name looked entwined with mine when you called me to dinner -everything else is not.
My present hope is for it to be in the summer, and, if I can persuade her and everyone else, at Pemberley's chapel. I have no desire for the wedding of the century, Society will have to be content with their imaginations about the event. I hope you will include your congratulations and joy not only to myself but to your new sister in your next letter to her. Until then, I must bid you farewell.
I remain your loving brother Fitzwilliam Darcy.