NOTES: Darcy's POV, long chapter. I'm very happy with this one, it's really fluffy and fun to read (or reread, in my case)
Y'all enjoy now! I'll post again soon :)
~Vinny 🌹
also, it has been established. I'm a bit of a bastard when it comes to writing 😉
The fog was as chilled as ice, and almost thick enough to walk on. It surrounded the building as if winter had come early, the blinded space disappearing behind a many-layered curtain of mist. Darcy had worn a thick coat today, in case Lizzy decided they might go for a walk, but now he was regretting it. The wool was itchy, sticking to his skin as he squirmed in the heat building under the coat, and shied away from the freezing air around him.
He hadn't been hot beforehand, but when Mr. Bennet had strode out onto the porch with the confidence of a stray cat, his disposition became more and more nervous. Especially when he began wiggling his eyebrows and making rather inappropriate insinuations about Lizzy— 'long sea voyage,' indeed.
When Darcy called him out on the tactic, frustrated, Mr. Bennet asked if he would raise his voice at Lizzy in the same way.
After that, there had been a silence punctuated by the humming wind. Then, Darcy spoke with a low, deliberate sound.
"Mr. Bennet," he said, and he watched the man from under lowered brows, "I am in love with your daughter. I will never do anything to harm her as long as I live— and my feelings are not, as you so crudely put it, the result of sexual deprivation. Her intelligence captivates me, her humor enthralls me, and— yes— her beauty pulls at my heartstrings like a puppet master. I adore every detail. Her smile is my only thought, and even if you refuse my right to see her, I will spend the rest of my life bewitched. Elizabeth is everything to me. Do you understand?"
The old man had green eyes. They blinked slower than was normal, and the sharpness within dulled ever so slightly as he watched Darcy's face.
"Very well," the older man sighed. "I understand."
Darcy sucked a breath in. He honestly hadn't expected his speech to work! "So, y-you'll let me see here?" He asked, desperate for hope.
Mr. Bennet flapped a hand at him, already turning toward the door. "Yes, well, I have a feeling if I don't, I'll find my darling daughter gone one night with a bedsheet rope hanging from the window."
That was a yes. He had said yes! Darcy felt like shouting, like crying, like running inside and kissing Lizzy right then and there, in front of everyone.
Then he realized he must've been grinning like a half-wit, because of how amusedly Mr. Bennet was looking at him.
"I apologize for my comment about a loveless marriage," he chuckled, eyes sparkling, "But please— for the sake of my wife's nerves—wait to start your progeny until we're out of the room."
Darcy's eyes went wide at the audacity, then it occurred to him it might just be part of Mr. Bennet's personality. He forced a laugh that sounded like a dehydrated cough. "Ahah!" he choked out, "Indeed. Well. We— We'll try. Your daughter is.. Very… um, tempting. Yes."
Mr. Bennet stopped dead, and looked at Darcy with an astonished look of disgust. "YOUNG MAN!" he boomed, drawing himself up, "That is my DAUGHTER! I myself am tempted to withdraw my consent, you lecher!"
"What?!" Darcy cried, "But— But you just—!"
"I expect you to be on your BEST behavior from now on," the man growled, jabbing his finger into Darcy's chest.
For his part, Darcy stood flabbergasted as Mr. Bennet walked purposefully inside, and emerged a few seconds later with Lizzy in tow.
Immediately his face turned red. Oh no. Was Mr. Bennet going to tell her about how 'lecherous' he suspected her new suitor to be? If so, they ran the chance of frightening off a poor innocent maiden before she even realized her feelings for him!
' But was Mr. Bennet really so wrong?' A part of him whispered, 'Just because you didn't say it out loud doesn't mean it didn't cross your mind… Lizzy Bennet is beautiful; mind, body, and soul. But face it old boy, for the majority of your teenage years you only fantasized about the second… Her round lips, flexible legs…'
She was looking at him. Oh god, she was looking at him, and he was thinking THAT.
Darcy turned his eyes to the fog, internally cursing his wool jacket.
"Lizzy," he could hear behind him, "Mr. Darcy and I have discussed this matter, and… He wished to court you. Tell me, did you know about this beforehand?"
"Yes, Papa." That was Lizzy. Beautiful, carefree Lizzy. Especially beautif— FOG, look at the fog.
"And," Mr. Bennet was saying, "Was meeting HIM the reason you were so eager to get out of the house this morning?"
Quickly, he snuck a glance back at Lizzy; she was hanging her head, looking as ashamed as he felt. "Yes, Papa," she said again.
The older man crossed his arms, the fluffy gray caterpillars (eyebrows?) lowering several inches. "Lizzy…," he said, warningly, as if he was about to say more.
Then, abruptly, he smiled.
"I gave Mr. Darcy my consent for courtship. Do with that information what you will."
Lizzy's head snapped up, and her eyes finally met his. "Really?" she cried, clearly ecstatic. "Oh, oh THANK you, Papa!"
She leaped to hug him, and Mr. Bennet held her for a moment before pulling away. "But," he said sternly, "If you ever lie to me again… don't insult my intelligence by doing it poorly."
Lizzy laughed, and a great weight floated away from Darcy's shoulders. "Alright, Papa," she chuckled, wrinkling her nose, "I just hope you didn't tease W— Mr. Darcy too much while I was away."
"Oh, you know me so well," Mr. Bennet smirked, his green eyes flicking to Darcy, as if daring him to speak up. "I just couldn't resist. The prospect was justtoo tempting."
Even the blush that sprang to his cheeks wasn't enough to dissuade Darcy's smile from spreading like a sunrise across his face. "Thank you, sir," he said, too much emotion crowding his voice to raise it above a whisper.
Mr. Bennet let out a donkey bray of a laugh from his chest. He pointed to Darcy like a child would getsure at a fantastic new toy he just couldn't wait to play with.
"I love this one! I insult him, mock him, manipulate his emotions, and he THANKS me!" He turned to Lizzy with a pleading grin. "Can we keep him? Please?"
She giggled with a hand over her mouth, and Darcy felt his smile turn foolish, but not fade. He had permission. He could show up to Lizzy's house anytime he wanted, and meet for rendezvous… they could stroll about the town without any fear of impropriety…
"I would not mind that very much," he said quietly, his eyes on Lizzy. "Not much at all."
Both of the Bennets reacted with a smile— Mr. Bennet furbished his grin by clapping his hands, delighted by the absurdity, while Lizzy just smiled. She had a wonderful smile.
Suddenly, all their attention was captured by the disembodied sound of thumping heels, running up through the fog. "Lizzy! Lizzy, don't worry, I'm here!"
"Oh! That must be Charlotte!" She said, stepping forward with a hand rising nervously.
Mr. Bennet snorted, raising an eyebrow at his daughter. "Ah, you mean your excuse has finally arrived?"
"Hush, papa," Lizzy murmured, blushing as her eyes searched the fog.
Then, out of the grayness, a young woman with a plain face came bounding, breathing hard. "I'm here!" She cried, snatching Lizzy's hands as if she were afraid they would vanish, "I'm here, Lizzy. I'm so sorry, I was leaving the house but my mother saw me and told me to finish the needlework before I went out, so I did, and then—"
She abruptly stopped talking, and blinked up first at Darcy, then Mr. Bennet. "Oh. Hello."
"Hello, Charlotte," Mr. Bennet said warmly, chuckling.
Darcy bowed, only lifting his head when Lizzy introduced him by his full name, emphasizing William.
"Ah!" Miss Lucas breathed. She had black, soulful eyes, and they flitted about like crows from Lizzy's face to his. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," he said, because what else was he supposed to say?
Clearly Lizzy had discussed him with her friend— as was her right, but still, it put him in a rather awkward position of being known. He grimaced, wondering what intimate details she may have disclosed. From the edge of his periphery, he saw Lizzy's face turn towards his, and her brow wrinkled, then smoothed in understanding.
"You know Charlotte," she said, her tone a little too loud to be talking to just one person, "How Mr. Darcy and I were great friends that met for a short time as children? Well, it just occurred to me the only reading preference of his that I know of are Nursery Rhymes!"
Everyone on the porch chuckled, some more genuinely then others, and Darcy felt a wave of relief.
So. People here believe us to simply be acquaintances met up again after a few years apart. Splendid. He had been a bit worried that Lizzy had disclosed every detail of their time together. He could still remember the warm, sloppy and sweet feeling of her lips on his.. For the briefest moment...
"Well, that can be easily remedied," Miss Lucas said cheerily, more at ease now. "There is a quaint little bookstore not two shops from here, if the gentleman would like a tour."
Darcy grinned. "I would." Feeling bold, he gently took Lizzy's hand and placed it on his arm. He tossed his hair at her, and she giggled. "Shall we?"
"I'll stay here," Mr. Bennet spoke up, and Darcy started guiltily. The old man, though, did not seem to find the physical contact— on the contrary, he was smiling broadly now.
"I'd rather wait for the rest of our clan to be done in there," he said, jerking his head towards the door. "Come back home when you're done, Lizzy."
Lizzy's teeth flashed in a smile, and for a moment, Darcy found all air absent from his lungs. Amplified by the brilliantly gray mist all around them, her eyes shone like jewels of amber, shot through with golden veins and flecks of ash. As beautiful and fleeting as the autumn, her eyes twinkled at him.
Then— he felt her thumb rub against his sleeve, coaxing him out of his stupor.
"Well," Lizzy was smiling at him, "I do believe we should get going, Mr. Darcy."
He took a shaky breath in, not caring that everyone around them could surely tell how much he was struggling not to propose right then and there, and awarded her a small smile.
"And I do believe you are right, Miss Bennet," he said, hardly hearing his own words.
Then, arm in arm, the two lovers went off and were swallowed up by the fog, their (very invested) friend trailing at a respectful eavesdropping distance behind them. Mr. Bennet watched them go, a crookedly satisfied grin on his wrinkled face. He shook his head, and wondered if it would be immoral to tell his daughter just how red the young man's face had gotten when he had thought about her.
Maybe, he decided with a smile, I'll wait for the wedding toast.