When Elizabeth and Darcy almost ran into each other, she escaping Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Bennet, he Mr Gardiner, they started and blushed with embarrassment almost equal to that which they had felt at Pemberley.
"Er . . . you have been with your mother? and your aunt?" Darcy asked, his eyes darting from a painting, to the rug, to her shoes - everywhere but her face. His awkwardness went a long way in alleviating her own, and she smiled and said,
"Yes. It was very enlightening."
He coloured even more deeply but his eyes jerked up and met her own. "Oh? I . . . er . . . how, er, nice?"
Elizabeth laughed. "You need not abuse the language; I was only teasing you. Mama told Jane and me only a very little."
"But Jane left," he said confusedly. "Bingley was with her."
Embarrassed as he was now, she could only imagine how uncomfortable he must have been a few minutes earlier. Doubtless he had been eager to make Bingley suffer what he had.
"Oh . . . yes. Mama had a few things to say which she did not think Jane needed to hear."
Darcy's eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing, merely offered her arm and hastily changed the subject.
They left town the next day, with considerable relief on the parts of all, even Mrs Bennet (she was looking forward to the disposal of her daughters). Oddly, the last few days passed much more quickly than the first had. They were busier now, with wedding plans, invitations to be sent out, the Gardiner children to keep in check, and of course, the never ending social duties.
Both Darcy and Elizabeth were too tired to meet on their customary quiet rendezvous. Elizabeth spent hours awake with Jane, knowing that after the wedding, it might be months, perhaps over a year, until they met again. Then she had to comfort her father, who tried to hide his real dismay at losing both of his sensible daughters at once, particularly his favourite. She knew he had offered to repay Darcy before they left, who had not "ranted and stormed" but simply refused in his usual autocratic manner.
Mr Bennet liked Darcy, she was certain of it; but sometimes she wondered how much Darcy liked him. He was clearly going out of his way to be agreeable, but just as clearly, it was an effort, nothing like the natural ease he had with the Gardiners.
But perhaps it was an unfair comparison. He knew the Gardiners better, Mr Gardiner was the sort of gregarious man whose sociability rubbed off on everyone around him, and Polly adored him. Elizabeth saw her neighbours' awed, almost suspicious, distance towards Darcy thaw visibly during that final week. They undoubtedly still thought him taciturn and unfriendly, but it was impossible to really dislike a man who had a six-year-old girl permanently attached to his trousers.
Shortly before the wedding, Darcy's assorted relations and, less surprisingly, Bingley's sisters, arrived. Elizabeth was less than delighted to be thrown into the society of the latter, but the Fitzwilliams seemed infinitely less objectionable in the company of her family. Only Mr Fitzwilliam, Cecilia's clergyman brother, failed to appear - and he sent earnest apologies. They even brought the two little girls, though Elizabeth only saw much of Lady Emily, the dimpled, curly-haired daughter of Lord and Lady Ravenshaw. The other, it seemed, had been thoroughly taught that she was to be seen and not heard, and Elizabeth rather pitied her.
Georgiana was nearly as silent, except for the occasional shocked gasp. Darcy's protective concern seemed fully justified.
About three days after their arrival, Elizabeth claimed exhaustion and fled to a parlour overlooking the gathered relatives. They were facing away and did not see her; she arrived just in time to see Darcy swing Polly into the air. The little girl squealed with pleasure, suffering none of the shyness or reserve of his own cousins.
Elizabeth sighed a little; though she could clearly make out Darcy's face, Polly's was buried into his shoulder. From this perspective, she was simply a slender, long-limbed girl - she could have been anyone. But her hair was not the rich brown of her father's, it was the same pale gold as Mrs Gardiner's - and Darcy's. For one brief moment, Elizabeth allowed herself to imagine that the child was not a cousin but a daughter - her daughter.
Only two days before the wedding, Mrs Bennet seemed to realise her talk with Elizabeth and Jane had been inadequate. She caught the former unawares and bombarded her with advice of every variety, most it contradictory - both how, and why, she should seduce Darcy, and also how to persuade "such a man" to take a mistress, if that was what she wanted. "In some ways," she said, with what passed for thoughtfulness with her, "he reminds me of your father."
Elizabeth was trembling with rage, anxiety, and mirth by the time she escaped, quite early the next morning. They had more time now, for everything was arranged, and often met near the mount before the others awoke.
"And then," she concluded, "Mama told me that if I did not wish your . . . company, I should influence you to find another woman to keep you occupied."
"What?" His voice had become - not softer, but lower and quieter and more controlled. Elizabeth was both relieved and slightly distressed to see him look so thoroughly offended. Knowing herself to be treading on dangerous ground, for her familiarity with the habits of his set was decidedly limited, nonetheless she said defensively,
"My mother's thinking is nothing extraordinary, this time. Fitzwilliam, you know such behaviour is only to be expected."
"I beg your pardon?" He stopped where he was, and turned to look at her. His cheeks were flushed, although with anger or embarrassment she could not tell, and his eyes hard and blazing.
"Not - I do not mean . . ." She was not entirely sure what she meant. She had never given the matter much thought.
"I very much hope you do not mean that such behaviour is only to be expected of me."
"No," she replied sharply, "I know that it has been - what did you say? - the study of your life to avoid the weaknesses of mere mortals."
They stared at one another for a moment; then his expression of icy hauteur shifted and Elizabeth's mouth twitched.
Darcy said, "I must have sounded very pompous."
"You did," she agreed, "although perhaps less so to someone not determined to think the worst of everything you said and did."
"Yes, someone like Miss Bingley," he said dryly. Elizabeth laughed.
"Fortunately for your sanity, the world is not divided into women like me and women like Miss Bingley." She hesitated. "Fitzwilliam, you must not change the subject. I have to - I wish to know."
Darcy blinked. "You should probably ask Mrs Gardiner," he said.
Elizabeth smiled. "I heard that you subjected Mr Gardiner to another discussion on the subject."
Colour rushed into his cheeks. "Polly?"
"Meg, actually. I doubt Polly would have comprehended enough to care, had she heard."
A peculiar pinched look came over his face, and he said, "Children comprehend a great deal more than most give them credit for, Elizabeth."
"Fitzwilliam," said Elizabeth, frowning, "you are upset, and I cannot think it is simply the subject."
He glanced at her. "Elizabeth, I do not wish to discuss it, and I cannot imagine why you do."
"Avoiding unpleasant conversations has never done us any good," she persisted. "We are to be married, Fitzwilliam. We should be able to talk about anything."
"Once we are married," he amended.
"We have less than two days left," she said impatiently, sitting down and forcing him to do the same. "I understand that you are offended by my mother's intimation, but it is perfectly of a piece with her usual conversation, and you have shrugged all that off."
He looked at her incredulously. "The occasional impertinence is one thing, and telling you that my faithlessness is inevitable is quite another."
"I did not believe her for an instant," Elizabeth said. "You know I did not."
He hesitated. "Yes - I know."
"That is not all, surely. I love her, but Mama is far from sensible. I cannot imagine that you care greatly what she thinks of you."
"Surely you would not have me indifferent to your parents' opinion of me?"
"Please stop trying to misdirect me." She added confusedly, "Fitzwilliam, surely you do not mean to suggest that - that you are not - "
"That I am what, exactly?"
"I hardly know how to say."
With a look of angry disdain, although she hardly knew who for, he said, "I am not in the habit of seducing respectable women, visiting brothels, consorting with actresses and opera-girls, or taking advantage of my dependants. There, is your curiosity adequately satisfied?"
Elizabeth, at once pleased and stung, stood and paced briefly, before turning to face him. "Fitzwilliam, if you have done as little as you would have me believe, then I do not understand what is wrong with you. We can put off this conversation until our wedding-night, if you are that determined, but it is certainly something I would prefer to have over with by then. Why will you not explain? If you had lived a life of self-indulgence and profligacy, I might understand, but I know you have not; - you have said so yourself, and your cousins told me that your name has never been linked to any lady's, so I need not fear any embarrassment of that sort." She reached out and tangled her fingers in his, and felt, rather than saw, his angrily defensive demeanour crack.
He startled her by briefly leaning his head against their clasped hands. "I have not told you all that happened with my family, when we were in town."
"Your family?"
"My aunt has conceived," said he, in a tone of utter gloom.
"I should have thought you would be delighted at the prospect of another cousin."
"A cousin? Well, I suppose - yes, a second cousin, but that is not . . . I try not to think much on that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Lady Ravenshaw's father was my grandfather's brother. Therefore, any child of hers is a cousin of mine, but that is all."
"Oh! She has a - er - paramour?"
"As you said yourself, it is hardly unusual," he said, but did not look any more reconciled to it than she. "The gentleman in question, a Mr Mainwaring, is married - unhappily, I suppose - and not a person on whose scruples or discretion I would place the smallest reliance. Neither is he wealthy enough to support his own extravagance, let alone hers. My cousins and I, unwisely, used to assist in discharging her debts." His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. "It was not out of any affection for her, I assure you, but concern for the family's name and my uncle's peace of mind. I ceased my contributions not long after - April."
Elizabeth only had a rather foggy idea of how this all worked together, but she caught the meaning of "April" and said, "Why did you stop, then?"
"I spent . . . after . . . that, I spent a great deal of time simply thinking. It was only when I seriously considered it, that I understood how hypocritical my own behaviour was."
"Hypocritical?" she cried. "You are many things, my love, but that is certainly not one of them."
"I helped support her in a life I condemned," Darcy countered. "I could not in good conscience do so any longer. Then, when we went to town, there was the child. All but my uncle know the truth; it would be impossible to pass it off as his, even if we wished to do so. Nothing has been decided upon. Lisle thought to raise it with the other children - with his own daughter! - which the others and myself, of course, recognised as an impossibility. He would not be so foolish, if he had any idea - " Darcy stopped, then straightened and said more calmly, "The matter has come near to tearing our family apart, all because of their profligacy and selfishness. I very much resented the suggestion that I would do anything remotely similar."
"Well, I am glad that your resentment is not so implacable as I once thought, then," she said, and added, "I am sorry. I wish you had told me earlier."
He laughed unsteadily. "It is a rather difficult subject to weave into ordinary conversation, and I had enough to explain my distress at the time."
"In the future," Elizabeth said, "you will not do that?"
Darcy hesitated.
"Fitzwilliam, I do not wish to be coddled and protected as if I were some ignorant miss. How many of our misunderstandings could have been averted if we had simply talked?"
"Eliz - "
"Promise me," she said, so fiercely that he looked at her in astonishment, "promise me you will not hide anything from me, not even for my own good. I am so tired of secrecy and reserve I can hardly think. I will not go into our marriage ignorant, even if you, of all people, would have me so - and I have heard you deplore studied ignorance in women often enough."
He looked away. "I am sorry," he said, without seeming to know what for.
Elizabeth said, "Now that that is over, we ought to . . ." She felt herself blushing, and stood up, taking his arm. "Walk home before my mother goes into a fit of hysterics."
"Walk home? Very well." He paused. "I think there was a question somewhere in - all of that."
Elizabeth laughed. "I do not remember. I certainly did not think you would ever . . ." She bit her lip. "Fitzwilliam, do you remember, when I was a little impatient, with your . . . reserve in expressing your feelings - " Darcy smiled at this speech, as euphemism-laden as his own - "and you said it was because you did not wish to disgrace me?"
"I remember."
"It would only be disgraceful because we are not married. That is what you meant? - that you do not wish to dishonour me?"
"Of course." He looked at her in some surprise.
"So - " Elizabeth was embarrassed, but also determined, and continued, "If . . . after we are married, if I . . . if I want you to . . . to come to me, you would not think it - disgraceful?"
Darcy caught his breath, and was silent for several moments. Then he tightened his grip on her hand and said quietly, "No. No, I would not."
"I am glad, because - you understand - I do not want you to put me on a pedestal. Particularly not - " She fixed her eyes on the ground, glad she had her bonnet shielding her face, and said more boldly, "Particularly not when we are alone."
"I am aware of your imperfections, Elizabeth."
"My aunt said . . . what did Mr Gardiner say to you?"
Darcy flushed. "He loaned me some books, and, er, discussed them with me."
"What sort of books?" When he did not reply, she added, "Will you show them to me, my dear?"
"Certainly not!" He looked scandalised. Elizabeth laughed delightedly. She loved the strain of prudery in his character, something she might have deplored in anybody else, and could not begin to explain why.
"I . . . do you remember, before - well, Wickham, when we used to argue?"
"Yes, that was when you hated me on my own merits."
"No," she said, "I did not hate you then, and a great deal of it had more to do with me than you. But that is not what I meant to say. It is . . . I suppose it is rose-coloured glasses, but I missed that, a little. Not disliking you, that only made me unhappy, but the way you talked to me." She laughed. "You talked to me like - almost like I was a man."
Darcy blinked.
"Or . . . I mean, there was none of that nonsense about my being a lady rather than a rational creature. I was so used to being cleverer than everyone, I think your intelligence was half the reason I so disliked you. Yet it was also the first good quality I ever noticed about you. Well, actually - " she coloured - "the second."
"The second?" He turned his head. Elizabeth felt her cheeks turning even redder.
"The first thing . . . well, I thought you had very fine eyes. But," she said hastily, "then you began talking and I did not think about it again, for quite a long time."
Darcy laughed outright.
"Still, that is not what I was talking about. After we are married, you will speak to me like you did before? I rather like being challenged. And - " she smiled ruefully - "I think it is probably good for me."
"Of course," he said. "Elizabeth, I could not be a pliable, mild fellow like Bingley, even if I tried."
"I would not want you to be like Bingley!" she cried. "I like him, of course, but . . ."
"You would not want to be married to him. I know - I admire Jane greatly, but - " He shook his head. "I daresay that I will be my usual argumentative self once we are married."
"Once we are married? Why only then?"
He smiled. "You shan't be able to get rid of me, then."
