A/N: All right, y'all, here are the rules for reviews of this final chapter:
1) Please don't tell me that Mr. Darcy is out-of-character. If you want to really character-analyze him, we all portray him incorrectly-in the text of P&P, he is exceptionally reserved and socially awkward in public but talkative almost to the point of excess once he is truly comfortable with someone. My guess is that his social awkwardness carries over even in private and that he drives Lizzy crazy half the time because he doesn't follow social cues well. So, you can hero-ize him in your way, and I'll do it in mine.
2) Please don't use an excess of profanity, no matter how tempted you might be. *shame-faced smile* I have the profanity filter on for reviews, so I won't really get the full impact of your wrath. Impress me with your creativity.
And before you ask, there will be a short epilogue posted on Saturday.
Disclaimer: It's pretty obvious by this point that I'm not Jane Austen, and I didn't write Pride and Prejudice. I have neither her wit nor her gift for creating timeless characters. I am, however, eternally grateful to her for writing a story that has provided me a lifetime of entertainment.
Chapter 15
"And did it occur to neither of you," Mr. Bennet roared, "that I should have been informed of these events as they were taking place, whether or not you believed it might endanger us?"
Lizzy stood as straight as she could manage under her father's onslaught, gripping tightly to Mr. Darcy's tense forearm. Papa had been ranting for several minutes now, whipping the dandelions at the edge of the path with his walking stick, and although it was not quite the reaction she had expected, she could hardly blame him for being distraught. She wanted to wilt, to hide her face like a frightened child, but having Mr. Darcy by her side, providing real physical support as well as emotional, was giving her just enough courage to remain still.
"A letter, at least, would have prepared me to offer assistance!" her father continued. "Or a surreptitious visit after dark to see my brother Gardiner, who was only a few miles from you for nearly a week! Why did you not come to us? To me? Why did you not allow me to aid my own precious child in a time of such obvious need?"
"Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy answered, with evident effort at remaining calm, "we knew so little of our own situation that it seemed unwise to reach any farther than we absolutely had to for succor. I am sorry that it angers you, but we made the best decision we knew to make at the time."
"You believed me a doddering old fool!" her father argued, red-faced. "You thought me too poor, too old, and too unconnected to offer you any meaningful aid! Do not attempt to convince me otherwise! I know how you men think, you young, rich men who assume that everyone who has not been blessed with your resources is helpless. But there is some wisdom that comes with age, young man, and an extra level of care that I would have taken of my own daughter because of my love for her greater than any gentleman, no matter how wealthy or honor-bound, could ever exhibit."
Mr. Darcy straightened to his full, impressive height, having reached the end of his patience. "You may question the wisdom of our decisions, sir—I have wondered every day of the three weeks since our return to Kent what I might have done differently to better ensure Miss Bennet's safety—but you have no right to question my commitment to her protection. There is nothing in the world I prize so highly as her well-being!"
"Papa," Lizzy said, moving between them and standing before her father with her hands out in a plea, "We should have contacted you. I should have written or insisted on going to see Uncle Gardiner. I am sorry."
Some of her father's ire dissipated, as much out of exhaustion as in reaction to her words.
"I also… apologize," Mr. Darcy offered after a moment, although his stiffness partially undermined his attempt at humility. "I am a man used to making his own decisions. I rarely ask for help. But had we remained in London for any longer, I would have contacted Miss Bennet's uncle, and through him, yourself. I planned to go see him the very next Sunday."
Lizzy looked up at him with surprise. "You would have gone to him?"
"Yes," he replied, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I had no wish for them to worry, and I thought perhaps a fresh mind dealing with our problem would have been useful."
She smiled at him, and he at her.
Her father opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning deeply. Finally, he exhaled in frustration. "I am angrier than I can express, yet my conscience will not allow me to continue voicing it. It is dreadfully unfair that because the pair of you have suffered so much trouble, I am made to feel like a villain for my justified ire. I am most displeased with your high-handedness, sir, but I… I am forced to also offer you my unending gratitude for remaining with my daughter in the midst of all these struggles, for watching over her when I could not."
Mr. Darcy nodded seriously. "Your reaction is quite fair, considering the circumstances, sir. And as for protecting Miss Bennet, it was a duty I was proud to perform."
"Are you certain that she is no longer in any danger?"
"I am perfectly safe, Papa," Lizzy replied, annoyed that she was being spoken about as if she were not present.
"The only remaining threat might be Reg," Mr. Darcy answered, "but I feel fairly secure in Smythe's assessment that Reg will spend his energies hunting his old friend or abandon the south entirely and attempt to run the operation in the north. That does not, of course, mean we should not be watchful. While in London these past weeks, I have hired investigators to learn as much about both men as they can that we might better track their movements."
"And you have no concern regarding Smythe himself? He did, after all, abduct you initially with the intention of ransoming you. What if he were to change his mind yet again?"
Mr. Darcy exchanged a quick glance with Lizzy, attempting to hide his surprise at her father's misunderstanding. He had appeared on the pathway that morning just as Lizzy and her father had been returning from their walk, so he had missed most of her recounting. He was unaware that she had left out all references that might reveal his reason for calling upon her at the parsonage the night of the abduction.
Mr. Darcy's unexpected arrival had brought her not only pleasure, given that she had not seen him since they had left Gracechurch Street one week before, but also relief. She had desired to wait until they could explain their story together, but her father had finally lost patience with her evasions, especially regarding the nature of her shocking engagement, and refused to allow her entrance back into Longbourn until she had told him everything.
Lizzy answered hurriedly. "Smythe had clearly thought better of it soon after taking us, Papa, since he allowed our escape. He would never have helped in my rescue otherwise. He is no threat."
Papa nodded gravely. "And what of Lizzy's reputation?"
"Lady Catherine's servants and tenants are, in my opinion, the greatest danger," Mr. Darcy replied. "Mrs. Collins is quite sure of her household's trustworthiness, as I am sure of my footmen and, of course, Bingley and Fitzwilliam. The Tanners will keep our secret, especially as I have taken the liberty of buying up a few key debts belonging to Roland Tanner—he has no wish to anger one of his major creditors. Smythe's men knew Miss Bennet's name but knew little of her connections, and I cannot imagine a reason for them to speak of such reprehensible activities. Lady Catherine has increased her servants' wages, even offering bonuses to those most aware of our troubles and Anne's defection, and most of the surrounding neighborhood believed that Miss Bennet spent those ten days ill in her room just like Miss Lucas, but there are still many tongues there that might wag. Such interesting news must be difficult to keep to oneself, no matter one's station."
Papa frowned. "So that is why you offered for her? To safeguard her reputation? I could hardly believe it when Gardiner wrote to me to ask my consent for your betrothal. I suppose I should not be surprised, given all I have just learned, that you would prove to be an honorable gentleman."
Then Papa turned to Lizzy with a grimace. "A respectable union is the most secure solution, my child, but I would never have wished a forced marriage upon you. I am sorry to have failed you in such a way."
"Papa," Lizzy said gently, "marrying will be wise for my protection from Society, but I choose to marry Mr. Darcy freely, according to my own will and not out of fear."
"Yes, I know," her father said, waving his hand dismissively. "You are very brave, Lizzy, and afraid of nothing. But I am quite well aware of your mutual dislike prior to all this business, and I would not imagine a few days in company together could be enough to entirely overcome it."
"Our mutual dislike?" Mr. Darcy asked, flabbergasted. "Sir, I…"
Lizzy spoke quickly, sending him a quelling glance. "Our acquaintance began with most unflattering behavior exhibited on both sides, but through the course of those days traveling and in London, we have corrected several misunderstandings between us and developed a healthy respect and appreciation for one another. Papa," she said, stepping forward and taking her father's hands, "I am not unhappy to be marrying Mr. Darcy. I am not even resigned. I have great hope that our union will bring me lifelong satisfaction."
Her father's surprise was evident. "Truly, my child?"
She nodded.
He turned to Mr. Darcy. "And you, sir? You will not spend the rest of your life mourning the more advantageous connection that this potential scandal stole from you?"
"No, Mr. Bennet." Mr. Darcy gazed at Lizzy, still a bit bemused. "I will spend the rest of my days thanking God for allowing me to share my life with a woman I admire, appreciate, and esteem."
Papa looked back and forth between them for several moments before finally heaving a sigh and squeezing Lizzy's hands. "I suppose then, given your feelings on the subject, that I can be content with the outcome of these troubles, especially considering how much more wretchedly it all might have ended. I gave my consent grudgingly three weeks ago, but now I offer it freely and with hope."
Lizzy hugged her father gratefully. "Thank you, Papa."
"Yes, yes. Although I do confess to also hoping that my conversation with Jane and Mr. Bingley in the next few weeks will prove far less distressing than this one."
Lizzy was too pleased and relieved, as much at finally having told her story as at receiving his consent, to allow the moment to pass without some wit, a commodity that had been entirely lacking for her of late. "Perhaps not. For all we are aware, Jane may have had some very great adventures whilst in London. She may only be waiting for the opportune moment to tell us. She may have foiled a theft of the crown jewels during an afternoon's stroll or offered a scrap to an urchin in the street who was really a foreign princess hiding from assassins."
"It is admittedly difficult to imagine the eldest Miss Bennet disguised as a laundress, surreptitiously sneaking a small, dirty child, however royal, through London's back alleys," Mr. Darcy chuckled.
"Yet it is equally impossible to imagine Lizzy dressed as a gentleman, locked in a cell in the hold of a packet in Dover," Mr. Bennet added seriously, his expression dark.
Lizzy leaned her head against his shoulder. "Papa, we must learn to laugh about it all. Otherwise, the memories will threaten to swallow us."
"I know. And I shall laugh about it before long, I am certain. Considering that I have known about it all for less than two hours, I believe I am adjusting rather well." Then he grimaced. "Possibly too well. I shall return to the quiet of my book room for a few hours and attempt to order my thoughts." He squeezed Lizzy's shoulders again, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I thought I was relieved to see you when you returned to Longbourn a week ago, but that feeling was nothing akin to the pleasure I feel about it now."
He then turned to Mr. Darcy. "I thank you, sir, for all you have done for my daughter, for my family. I would say something such as 'if I can ever repay you,' but since I am already giving you my most precious possession," he said, glancing toward Lizzy, "I hope we can agree that I have given enough. You will promise to continue taking such care of her?"
"With all my heart, sir. I will use all that I am and all that I possess to keep her safe."
Mr. Bennet scowled at him suddenly. "Yes, I believe you truly mean that. I have been reviewing the marriage settlement documents you sent me—you must be a man of truly considerable resources to settle so much on her. My father's heart finds some comfort in that. However, the amount of loathing I feel for that stack of pages on my desk tells me that, to a father's heart, being comforted is not the same as being convinced. Yet I suppose I cannot rescind my consent. I assume you have a date in mind?"
"We want to marry soon, Papa," Lizzy said quietly. "While we do not want people to think us in a rush, it would be wisest to marry in the next few weeks."
"I purchased a special license," Mr. Darcy explained, "in case any rumors begin, but we are content to wait for the banns to be read."
"You want to marry in three weeks?" Mr. Bennet asked, alarmed.
"A month at the most," Lizzy confirmed. "We hope that will be a long enough time for Society to attribute the short engagement to the whims of a wealthy man who wishes to spend the summer at his estate instead of to some indiscretion."
Mr. Bennet put his hand to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his spectacles. "I must go to my book room. I need time to think. Do not consider this permission to marry in four weeks. The wedding date is yet to be determined."
He turned and began to walk away, lopping the heads of off several flowers with his walking stick as he passed, but he paused after a few steps and spun back. "I suppose, given the circumstances, that insisting on a chaperone for the pair of you would be rather like blowing out a candle after it has already set the drapes on fire. And after all, once your mother learns that your illustrious future husband has returned to the neighborhood, she will take care of the business quite assiduously." He smiled then a little mischievously. "I suspect I will take great pleasure in watching her make you both wretchedly uncomfortable for the next few weeks. Therefore, you may consider this quiet morning, before you announce your presence, as a gift to apologize for my coming enjoyment. Do not abuse my generosity."
Lizzy and Mr. Darcy remained quite still, watching him until he had disappeared around a curve in the path.
"Well," Lizzy said, turning to face Mr. Darcy with a sort of eager awkwardness.
"Well," he repeated, his gaze centered on her face.
"Oh, I am so glad that is finally over!" Lizzy cried feelingly.
"As am I." He motioned toward a nearby stone bench questioningly.
Lizzy glanced down the familiar walking path, the shrubbery still casting a wide shadow in the morning light, and shook her head. She pointed instead toward a narrow side path that led toward a copse of trees slightly uphill from them. He nodded, and they moved up the hill arm-in-arm, both of them gazing toward the upper-story windows of Longbourn just visible over the tree-tops.
Lizzy marveled at the depth of comfort such a simple closeness could engender. The week since her departure from Gracechurch Street had been a long one, full of pleasure in reuniting with all her family again but also with a pervasive sense of loneliness, as if something essential were still missing. From the warmth inside her chest, it was obvious that the last vital piece was the man walking beside her.
A kind of giddiness filled her as she imagined the days, months, and years ahead, the thousands of times the two of them would walk in just such a way along wooded paths, into ballrooms and dining rooms and parlors. She had never imagined that the thought of such a small thing could arouse such a feeling of anticipation.
"I have missed you, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said quietly as they entered the small grove.
"And I you, sir," she replied with feeling. "I do not think I even realized how much until you appeared behind us this morning and I felt as if the sun had just come out."
"My timing, it would seem, was quite impeccable. I arrived at Netherfield too late last night to join Bingley here for supper, so I rode out early this morning in hopes that you might be wandering somewhere. I know you had intended to wait for my arrival before speaking to your father of our abduction, but I assume a week of keeping the truth from him had proven unendurable to your candid nature."
"It was truly wretched," Lizzy laughed. "He and Jane have both noticed my evasions and grown impatient with my promises of later explanations. Luckily, Jane has had Mr. Bingley here to distract her, but Papa has been relentless."
"Will you tell your sister now that your father knows?"
"I am still undecided. She will be so pained by it all. Perhaps it will be best to wait until after she and Mr. Bingley are married, that both he and I might provide her comfort. He is planning on proposing soon, is he not?"
"Indeed. He believed he was being thoughtful by allowing our engagement to receive its due attention, but I assured him this morning that his and your sister's impending happiness would only increase our pleasure during this period. He intends to ask her at his first opportunity."
"Oh, I am so glad!"
They stopped in the center of the grove, both watching one another from the side. It was odd enough to be together once again, but it was even stranger to be entirely alone, a circumstance they had not enjoyed since their short stroll through the park in Islington nearly four weeks before.
Finally, Mr. Darcy gestured toward a stump that had been mostly sheltered from the recent rain, and Lizzy, not knowing what else to do, nodded and allowed him to seat her there. He remained standing, backing away a few paces before turning to look at her. She missed his nearness more than she should.
"I hope you were able to take care of all those affairs you named as the reason you could not follow me to Hertfordshire immediately," Lizzy said, turning her nose up in the air haughtily.
He smiled at her indulgently. "Many of them, yes, although my investigation into the state of Rosings's finances continues. My man is attempting to make certain that the money Anne stole from the estate comes only from her dowry, but he is slowed by his efforts to deal with the shoddy mortgages. Every day I become more thankful for Mrs. Collins's presence of mind in retrieving the stolen money from my cousin—Lady Catherine could never have recovered the estate."
"Has there been any word of Miss de Bourgh?"
"None, although I cannot say I have put much energy into inquiry. I wish her well, I suppose, but I cannot hope for her return, not even for Lady Catherine's sake."
"No, nor I."
"I did, however," he said with a small, bewildered smile, "receive word from someone else."
He withdrew a long, narrow box from his coat pocket and set it in Lizzy's hand. She opened it and, after a moment of shock, released a loud laugh. Inside it lay two silver-handled daggers, one a boot knife and the other of similar shape but on a smaller scale and with a strange attachment on the back of its sheath. The scrollwork was quite cunning, making the weapons as attractive as they were useful.
"The note with the package said only, 'A gift in early expectation of your upcoming nuptials. Use them wisely, and congratulations. Regards, An Interested Party.' However, another page was folded just under the lid when I opened the box." He withdrew a small sheet and placed it in her hand. "It was addressed to you, so I have not yet read its contents.'"
Lizzy unfolded the thin scrap.
"Miss B,
"I must hurry if this note is not to be noticed. You saved G's life, and in doing so, you saved my own as well! Thank you a thousand times! G told me all about your rescue and his dealings with you, and although G does not care, I cannot rest at his lack of truthfulness with you. You must think him a fool for claiming to have kidnapped you in the name of love. He confessed to me that, to his shame, his initial intention was, indeed, to extract a ransom from your beloved. He was desperate for a few final pounds to make the total he needed to purchase our new home on the Continent, and Mr. D presented an immediate solution, especially since G feared some of the other debts owed to him might not have been paid. However, as he made his collections on your route to Dover, he discovered that he had more than expected. Only then did his conscience convince him to make possible your escape. I am pleased for us all that he did right, that he intends to be entirely honest in our new life, but I feel we cannot move forward in truth without leaving truth behind us.
"I wish you great happiness in your future life. All is not well between myself and G, but I have hope that someday it will be. Honesty will, I believe, be the best first step.
"With gratitude,
"T.T."
Lizzy handed the note to Mr. Darcy, who read it with a frown. Once he had finished, he looked up at her. "I find myself oddly relieved. Of the many strange things about our adventure, one of the most difficult to reconcile was that after all our fear and uncertainty, it had only been a ruse to bring us together."
"I agree," Lizzy said. "I had been left feeling so silly for having feared Smythe. I am glad to know my apprehension was justified. I am also, of course, terribly glad that his conscience prevailed. Imagine what might have happened had we been forced to cross to France!"
Mr. Darcy nodded gravely, his gaze troubled. "That is not a thought I like to contemplate."
"And I suppose this package relieves my mind in more than one way. Mr. and Mrs. Talmadge are together and working toward happiness. I do hope they find it!"
"As do I. I believe this is an encouraging sign."
"Indeed." Then she frowned down at the smaller knife. "These are truly beautiful weapons, but I confess that I do not understand the attachment on the back of this one. Yours goes in your boot, but mine…"
Mr. Darcy colored slightly, but his eyes twinkled as he answered, "I know little of such things, but I believe it attaches to the… uh… up at the top of the… stocking."
Lizzy blushed as well, the method quite obvious now that she knew it was to tie to a garter. "Ah. How clever."
She slipped the knife and note into the pocket of her coat and returned the box to him. "I must admit that I hope I never have occasion to use it."
He did not step back away, but instead leaned beside her on the edge of the stump. "Yes, but I will feel comfort knowing we are both better prepared for whatever may come."
"I suppose kidnappings are not a regular occurrence around Pemberley?"
"No," he chuckled. "And we have seen no gypsies in our woods for at least twenty years."
"Ah, well. I shall just have to adjust to the monotony of safety and security."
"Have you developed a taste for adventure then?" he teased. "Need I fear a return to piracy in your future to stave off discontent?"
"I did grow quite fond of those loose sailor's trousers."
"Yes, so did I."
Lizzy smiled for a moment before it occurred to her that he had only worn trousers for a few hours of their escapade, for a single afternoon in Dover. Had he meant he had grown fond of hers? She gazed up at him in surprise, and he smirked at her.
Lizzy laughed aloud, delighted. "How I ever thought you lacked a sense of humor, I cannot imagine! You can be quite wicked."
"You have no idea," he replied, his gaze rolling over her figure quickly before flicking away from her.
A warm tingling spread through Lizzy, although she did not entirely understand why. She looked away as well, somehow too aware of his proximity to keep watching him.
"Georgiana wishes me to offer greetings to you on her behalf. She is very much looking forward to seeing you again at the wedding. She enjoyed getting to know you in London—you are practically the only thing she wishes to discuss these days. She asked whether I thought you would consider writing to her in the interim, and I offered my opinion that you would, so she sent you a letter—it is on my desk at Netherfield—but she wanted me to make absolutely certain of your willingness before presenting it to you in case you were reluctant."
"Of course, I would be delighted to write to her!" Lizzy laughed. "She is a charming girl, even in her shyness. Why would she imagine I would be unwilling?"
"She did not always require so much reassurance," Mr. Darcy said with a sigh. "I have great hope that having you as a sister will help return much of her lost confidence."
"I will do all I can," Lizzy said, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. "But mostly I suspect it will just require time."
"I know." He squeezed her hand.
"One of the advantages of waiting a full month for a wedding would be a lack of obligation to invite any of the officers. They are to remove to Brighton in three weeks. That would, I imagine, be beneficial for Georgiana's peace of mind."
"Yes, I would much rather have Wickham out of the county before Georgiana enters it. Have you seen him since your return?"
"We have been in company together," Lizzy replied with a twist of her mouth. "It is remarkable the way he believes that a few smiles and compliments can revive his intimacy with the young ladies of the neighborhood, regardless of him having cheerfully abandoned our friendships during his pursuit of poor Miss King's twenty-thousand pounds. Unfortunately, he has found at least one of those friendships hopelessly spoilt. Needless to say, once he heard of our betrothal, his attentions toward me and my family diminished significantly. Lydia is quite put out with me, that I would choose you over 'poor, dear Mr. Wickham.'"
"The fact that he would even try speaks of his arrogance," Mr. Darcy said through gritted teeth. "Have you warned your sisters about him?"
"I have not," Lizzy replied. "I believe his removal from the neighborhood is soon enough that they are in little danger. I did tell Jane some of his history—none in connection with your sister—and we agreed that we have no wish to make him desperate. Lydia received an invitation just yesterday from Mrs. Forster to accompany her to Brighton, and were she to go, I would have considered warning her, but Mama has forbidden it. Our wedding festivities, complete with all your wealthy, influential cousins and friends attending, are much more appealing to Mama now than any redcoats."
"Did you happen to mention to your mother that my family circle is rather small, or that only two or three of my closest friends are invited, none of whom are single besides Bingley?"
"Hmm. As a matter of fact, I did not."
He laughed, raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of her glove.
"But what about the colonel? He is single and eligible, even if he would never consider any of my sisters."
Mr. Darcy frowned. "Fitzwilliam came to me just yesterday, right before I was to depart. He apologized most profusely, but it would seem that he has been given command of a new regiment. He is to depart for Spain within the next week."
"Oh!" Lizzy felt her disappointment keenly. "How wretched! I am of course saddened that he will not be able to attend, especially given how materially our union has resulted from his courage and effort, but that is nothing to my concern over the danger he will be facing in Spain. How I shall worry for him."
"His mother is quite distraught. She was prepared to go to Wellington himself with her complaint, but Fitzwilliam calmed her, claiming to be quite gratified to receive a more active command. He says he has grown bored with London."
"Oh. I suppose I am glad he is content."
"Yes, that is the exact word he used. He is 'content.'"
They sat together quietly for several moments.
"At least, with him gone, we need not worry about anyone offering a toast during the wedding breakfast regarding secrets we would rather not have shared," Mr. Darcy said lightly.
Lizzy giggled. "He would never."
"No," Mr. Darcy chuckled, "but he would say just enough to make us both nervous, I am certain."
They laughed for another moment then quieted, both thoughtful again.
"It is so difficult," Lizzy said quietly, "to believe that only four-and-one-half weeks ago, I was walking through a grove at Rosings Park, wondering to myself whether a quiet visit to Charlotte's home was going to be the most exciting thing that ever happened in my life. How much has changed since then! My life is altogether new—my outlook, my understanding, my expectations, and even my heart have shifted so much that I feel like a different creature from the young woman I was then."
"I feel the same about myself," Mr. Darcy replied with equal seriousness. "I can hardly recognize the man who probably walked out deliberately that fine morning to chance upon you on your stroll. I will admit that I hope I never meet that fellow again."
"He was not so very awful," Lizzy laughed gently.
"'I had not known you a month,'" Mr. Darcy quoted grimly, "'before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.' You may pretend otherwise now, for the sake of my pride, but I know how you saw me then, and you were correct."
"Please do not quote my horrible words back to me!" Lizzy cried, gripping his hand more tightly. "I can hardly bear the memory of them! We are both different now, and it will be in the interest of our future felicity if we choose to forget the awful things we both said and did."
"Very well. I shall try. But I must ask, while on this topic, why you would not let me disabuse your father of the notion that I had disliked you for all those months in Hertfordshire? I am cautious of my privacy, but would not your father find comfort, even satisfaction, in the knowledge that my regard for you has endured for several months now?"
"I suppose it might," Lizzy answered slowly, trying not to blush again, "but it was not my desire for him to know that our union is as much or more of a product of our mutual affection as it is one of respect, admiration, and convenience."
"You do not wish him to know that I am in love with you?" Mr. Darcy asked, obviously confused.
"Not just yet. I suppose it will be obvious soon enough, as he observes us together more frequently, but I would keep my family ignorant of it as long as possible."
"Might I ask the reason?"
Lizzy drew in a deep breath, attempting to summon courage enough to answer truthfully. Finally, only able to raise her eyes to his cravat, she answered, "Because they will be less cautious of keeping us separated and insisting on constant chaperonage if they do not know we are in love, if they believe our affections are, as yet, sensible and platonic."
Mr. Darcy straightened, and Lizzy felt the loss of his hand, his arm pressed against hers. She bit her lip, inclined to be injured by the perceived rejection yet reminding herself that she was not always good at understanding his reactions.
"I am sorry if I have offended you, sir," she rushed on. "I know it is in opposition to all proprieties, even unmaidenly, to express so open an enjoyment of the time we spend alone, but I know you abhor disguise, and these are my honest thoughts."
"Elizabeth…" Mr. Darcy began tentatively.
Lizzy pressed on, afraid to stop speaking. "I enjoy your discourse, your company, anytime we are together, but I feel that perhaps I was spoilt by the time we spent alone, or as good as alone, during our days with Smythe and the Tanner family. I do not always want to share you."
"Elizabeth."
"I very much resent that we must spend so much of the coming weeks without any private conversation. I look forward to our marriage for many reasons, but one of the greatest is the idea of spending a vast deal of time in your company and only yours."
"Elizabeth!"
Lizzy was surprised into meeting his gaze by his sharp tone. "Sir?"
He was as tense as a tightened bowstring, and his eyes were wide and dark. "You just said that we are in love."
She frowned. "Yes, sir."
"Are you in love with me?"
"Of course!"
Why did he appear so affected by the knowledge? He had known her feelings for weeks now… had he not?
He reached for her hands, raising them both to his lips. "I had believed, hoped that you would not have agreed to our marriage if your affections were still tentative, but I feared that perhaps the intense physical connection between us had overridden your lingering uncertainties…"
"I told you already, though, I am sure of it!" she cried.
He shook his head, although his eyes remained locked on hers. "No. You told me that you care for me, that you worry for me, that you accept and admire me, but you have made no mention of love. Believe me, I would have remembered it."
Lizzy had spent nearly three weeks sure of her feelings, finding strength and courage from them even in the midst of frustration and loneliness, and yet he had spent all that time uncertain of her?
"Mr. Darcy," she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion, "I am quite hopelessly, madly, unequivocally in love with you. You are, without a doubt, the best man I have ever known, and I believe there could not possibly be any woman in the world who could love you more fully than I do."
Before a full second had passed after she finished her declaration, Mr. Darcy had erased the distance between them and taken her in his arms, covering her lips with his in a searing, possessive kiss that made Lizzy once again revise all her ideas about the nature of kissing in general. By the time he pulled back, every inch of her skin was tingling, and her heart was racing so hard that she thought he must be able to hear it.
"I warned you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, "that I would find it difficult to maintain my distance from you. Already I had to spend two weeks under the watchful eyes of your relations, constantly reminding myself that it was inappropriate to be touching you all the time, that it would not be wise to tug you into an alcove you were passing and kiss you senseless no matter how much I longed to do so.
"But now, knowing that you love me, knowing that you long for the time we spend together as much as I do, I must spend the next month barely capable of reminding myself that neither of your parents would be understanding if I were to be discovered actively compromising you in their back parlor."
"Looking at it honestly," Lizzy said wickedly, "you have already compromised me. You did, after all, help me undress once. And we have already slept side-by-side."
"Do not remind me," he groaned, pulling her more tightly against his side. "That was the longest, most wretched, most wonderful night of my life thus far. To have you so near me and yet so far away was heavenly torture."
"I was rather enamored of it myself," she teased, delighted at the way his fingers convulsively tightened on her waist as she spoke.
He kissed her again, hard and long. "You are determined to leave me completely incapable of behaving as a gentleman."
"No," she giggled. "I have great faith in your sense of honor. And, I suppose, in my parents' abilities as chaperones." She sobered then, taking off her gloves then raising her hands to cup his face. "I am simply determined to have you know, in these few moments that are ours before we are forced to behave ourselves again, that I am as eager for our wedding as you are, for our life together to begin."
He drew one of her hands down to cover his mouth, kissing her fingers reverently. "You have no idea how much it means to know that."
"I have some," she laughed. Then she jumped to her feet, pulling suddenly from his embrace. "But I suppose we have established our mutual understanding well enough for now. I should return to the house, as I promised Jane I will always be present when Mr. Bingley calls, and he has been arriving earlier and earlier each morning."
Lizzy stood very primly, the picture of a perfectly proprietous young lady, and adjusted her bonnet.
"You want to return to the house?" Mr. Darcy had risen as well but was still standing at the stump, watching her intently. "Bingley has been arriving early, he told me, but he still never wakes before nine o'clock, and it is only eight-thirty now."
"But, sir," Lizzy answered with dramatically widened eyes, "he is to be accompanied today by another gentleman, a terribly handsome one who, I believe, holds me in some affection. I must have time to break my fast before his arrival and have my hair dressed more becomingly, and Mama will insist that I change my gown once she learns that he is coming. She will probably," Lizzy added in a conspiratorial whisper, "even encourage me to allow my lace to slip, that I might not lose his interest, although I would never employ such crude tactics simply to win his favor."
Mr. Darcy began moving slowly toward her, smirking again. "I do not believe I like the idea of you attempting to ensnare this poor, unsuspecting gentleman so soon after meeting me alone in the trees. Your color is heightened already, after your morning's exercise, and it will be more so after the manner in which I plan to offer my farewell. He will be entirely powerless to resist you, and where will that leave me?"
"Can I not have both of you?" Lizzy asked archly, backing away as he continued moving steadily toward her. "The regal, reserved gentlemen who may be even now awaiting me in the sitting room, and the devilishly good-looking one who engages in fisticuffs with gambling rogues, teases and flirts with me, and offers to compromise me in my mother's back parlor? Oh!"
Lizzy was surprised to find herself backed into the trunk of a tall maple tree, one of those she and her pirating friends had loved to climb as children. She had never before felt like less of a child, however, as she did when she looked up into Mr. Darcy's eyes as he leaned over her, one hand on the trunk of the tree.
"I suppose," he said, reaching out slowly to play with a lock of hair that had escaped the haphazard twist under her bonnet, "that this assiduously upright and appropriate gentleman and I might be able to come to some sort of agreement. I will do my best to stay out of his way in public, as long as he and his proprieties remain at a reasonable distance when you and I are alone together."
Lizzy swallowed heavily as he released her hair and let his fingers slide lightly along her jaw. "That seems a most reasonable negotiation."
Mr. Darcy made a noise of agreement, but he continued his light stroking around her face, across her cheeks, and down the length of her neck.
"You are deliberately unsettling me, sir," Lizzy remarked breathlessly.
"You are teasing me. Again. I thought it only fair to finally be clear about the effect that teasing has."
"It turns you into a rake?"
He chuckled. "No, Elizabeth, for that would imply I have interest in behaving this way with others. I told you once already—only you can waken me this way."
Lizzy felt all the compliment of that statement, all the power and excitement and danger of it. "I cannot decide whether that is more frightening or intriguing."
He laughed loudly then bent to kiss her. This kiss began as reassuringly tender, but it transitioned quickly into something new, something slow and heated and wonderful.
His lips still moving across hers, he murmured, "Do you still feel an urgent need to return to the house?"
She raised her hands and linked them at the back of his neck. "Absolutely urgent—you are even more dangerous than I thought. And I will give that urgency the attention it deserves any moment now, I am certain."
She felt his delighted laugh more than heard it as he resumed their kiss, only heightening her heady, reckless joy. She was full to brimming suddenly with not only love, desire, and contentment, but with a deep and abiding sense of gratitude for whatever twist of fate had brought her to this moment, to this man, in such an unlikely fashion.
She had many letters of gratitude to write, not just to her childhood friends who had prepared her to be of some use in her own rescue, or to Charlotte or Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr. Bingley for their assistance, but also to Mr. Talmadge, Reg, and even Miss de Bourgh, whose lives and actions had led her here. And perhaps, most fundamentally, to Mr. Collins, for being too great of a coward to confess his debts to his wife. Imagine if he had paid them and Mr. Darcy had left Hunsford's parlor that night! Would they ever have found one another and this passionate, incredible happiness?
She drew impossibly closer to him, which seemed to disturb him in no way whatsoever, and proceeded to express the intensity of her emotions in the most immediately available manner.
It was quite some time later when Lizzy was seen entering Longbourn wearing a contented smile, rather closer to Mr. Bingley's expected arrival time than her mother might have wished, and if she appeared somewhat flushed, everyone attributed it to nothing more than her morning exercise. Everyone, that is, except the rather polite and reserved gentleman who was introduced into the parlor less than an hour later. He knew better.
"Are you certain about this, Fitzwilliam?" Major General Wallace Cartwright asked, his normally-jovial face quite serious.
"That is the twenty-fifth time you have asked me that, sir," Fitzwilliam answered less cheerfully than he had intended. "I am certain."
The man shook his head, making his jowls wobble. "Forgive me—I just do not understand. You have a posting most officers dream about—the London office, training recruits, no travel or active combat—yet you want to give it up with barely any explanation whatsoever, only that you have grown 'restless.' You cannot blame me for questioning you."
"I know, sir," Fitzwilliam sighed, rising from his chair and crossing to the window. The view onto the streets of London was familiar, and these days, everything familiar was unwelcome. He turned back to his old friend. "My reasoning is quite personal and difficult to explain. Can you not simply trust that I know what I am doing?"
"You have requested active combat duty. I should assign you to Bedlam instead of the Iberian Peninsula."
"Please, sir."
Cartwright waved a hand, dismissing his words. "No, no—no need to beg. I have already received permission from the top—Wellington is delighted with any experienced commanders interested in returning to the battlefield—and the paperwork is finished. All I need now is your signature." He leaned forward then over his desk, his ample middle pressing against the edge. "Your signature and a reason."
Fitzwilliam's mind spun back over the past few weeks, especially over the torturous three weeks since returning to London from Kent the final time. He had been to visit the Gardiners' surprisingly elegant home in Cheapside a few times with Darcy. He had spent evenings with Darcy and Georgiana. He had dined with his parents and his brother's family. He had visited his club, appeared at a few evening parties, and even attended a ball. He had filled every waking moment with the requirements of life in London at the end of the Season and the enjoyments that had always made that life so appealing.
Yet none of it had managed to wipe thoughts of Mrs. Collins from his mind, not for a single instant. He had fallen in love, and now that he was removed from her, that love was eating him alive. It was sapping the flavor from his food, draining the beauty out of stunning debutantes and willing women-of-the-night alike, and washing the color from every window box and fluttering bird he passed.
He had, therefore, three choices.
First, he could remain in London living this life he had loved and watching it grow more empty and childish by the day, hoping that at some point, his heart would mend and he would find satisfaction again. It might work, although he had little faith in his ability to be so persistently self-sacrificing. This choice, he had finally realized, had about ten-to-one odds of failure.
Second, he could accept the inevitability of his fate, follow his father to Kent to pretend concern for Lady Catherine, and throw himself on the mercy of Mrs. Collins, ending either by gaining his desire and seducing her into accepting his attentions or by having her cast him from her life in miserable disgust and disappointment. The odds of this choice were harder to figure, given that the possible results were divided and so dependent on outside factors, but upon deep and honest reflection, he had accepted that the possibility of both him and Mrs. Collins being marginally happy in the long run was small. He had assigned this one odds of forty-to-one.
Or third, he could leave. He could take himself as far from both those other possibilities as he could get, surround himself with the relentless danger and uncertainty of a battlefield, the miserable physical conditions, and the constant companionship of death, and attempt to forget. This choice, however grim, had odds of five-to-one, or maybe even four-to-one.
And therefore, in the end, it was the only choice he could make.
"General," Fitzwilliam said quietly, "I can offer you a single reason. If I am in Spain, I have faith in my ability to remain a good man. But if I stay in England, I fear… I have reason to fear that I might not. So I wish to go, and if I return, it will be God's will."
Cartwright watched him for several moments, his deep-set, intelligent eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, making the wood beneath him creak disconsolately. "If you were any other man, Fitzwilliam, that would not be enough. But from you… well, I am still not happy about it, but if you say you must go, then I will trust you."
He pushed the paper across the desk, and Fitzwilliam stood, inking the quill and signing his name with little flourish. Then he straightened. "Thank you, General."
"Please do not thank me. I cannot accept gratitude for sending you into the mouth of Hell." He rose slowly to his feet, the chair squeaking its relief, and offered his hand. "Godspeed, Fitzwilliam."
As Fitzwilliam emerged from the office, he felt real hope, however skewed and unfocused, for the first time in weeks. War was brutal, cold and dark, and yet somehow, his conscience finally appeased, he was at peace.
His story might not end happily, but unlike many of the other characters in this strange tale, it would end well.