A/N: Hey gang, the Compromise Chronicles aren't dead! They were just on hiatus while I wrote "Eavesdroppers Never Hear" and "Two Sentences". I have a few more (5-6) on the back burner, and I'll spoon feed them to you from time to time. I also have a few more ideas for shorts that don't really fit anywhere, so they may end up here. I've also been toiling away on a novella called "Four Syllables" that will probably be next. I'm about halfway through it.

At the moment, I'm in Spain hanging out with my family. It's the same place I wrote "The Wedding Afternoon" back in the day. We are traveling with our younger daughter. Our eldest is in college and working too much this summer to come with us.

The title comes from a song that doesn't fit the story in the least, but the phrase is perfect and I love it so much I couldn't resist. If you want musical accompaniment, type Satisfaction Hamilton into your search engine and listen to my favorite song from the astonishingly good musical. I particularly like the story of Hamilton as it shows the full range of overarching brilliance and blistering stupidity that characterizes human behaviour.

This might become a pair of stories, like Chapter 1-2, with toasts for the bride and groom, but that remains to be seen.

Wade

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for, to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.

"What is Mr Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."

"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!"

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.

P&P Chapter 18

Elizabeth Bennet wished she could crawl under the table to make her escape! Escape from her mother! Escape from Mr Darcy! Escape from her inebriated sisters! Escape from Mr Collins! At the moment of ultimate embarrassment, she thought it was entirely impossible to be any more mortified.

As it turned out—she was wrong.

She had just completed one more embarrassed glance at Mr Darcy, when a hush fell over the table. Her eyes followed everyone else past the supper attendants of the Netherfield ball to see what was causing the disturbance.

Much to hear shock, she saw her father stand up unsteadily. She knew that he, like most of his peers, occasionally indulged in port or brandy. She also realised he might consume more at a ball than on an ordinary day; but his unsteadiness seemed alarming, as if Lydia was not the only Bennet likely to need assistance into bed. She had never seen the man quite so inebriated, and she was not certain she approved. Her mother's drunken pronouncements about Jane were bad enough without her supposedly more responsible father pitching in.

Mr Bennet rather unsteadily raised his glass as if in toast, and Elizabeth's heart started to soar! Had Mr Bingley come to the point at last? She could hardly wait to see what he had to say.

After clearing his throat rather dramatically, her father said, "Neighbours… friends… I must trouble you for congratulations."

A buzz flew through the room and Elizabeth had no idea whether to laugh or cry. There seemed a good chance that the entirely smitten Mr Bingley had proposed to her sister, but there was also the off chance Mr Collins had made his intentions clear and Mr Bennet had decided to force Elizabeth's hand. While they had not spoken directly about the clergyman, Elizabeth thought she had made her disdain clear enough. Against that idea, she was never entirely certain what her father would decide on any particular issue, and Mr Collins offered a ready solution to twenty-five years of indolence at a stroke.

She stared at her father as if he might burst into flames, sparing no attention for anyone save Mr Darcy, whom she kept visible from the corner of her eye. If the couple was Jane and Mr Bingley, she wanted to see his reaction to determine if he was planning to be troublesome. She knew full well what he thought of the Bennets and suspected that if Mr Bingley had only requested a courtship, Mr Darcy might dissuade his friend from coming to the point. It would not take much. Simply repeating her mother's words from the previous half-hour would probably do the trick.

Mr Bennet stared around the table, working his audience for his moment of glory (much to her annoyance).

He finally said, "I announce the engagement of my daughter …" then paused dramatically.

Elizabeth felt like she wanted to claw his eyes out, though it could not have been more than a moment before he continued, "… Elizabeth …"

All the air went out of the room, and Elizabeth gasped in shock. The fool man had apparently forgotten that even with the vastly reduced status of woman in England, they still retained the power to decline. Nobody could make her marry anybody, and she thought she was more likely to murder Mr Collins and bury him in the apple orchard than marry him.

Just as her hand reached out to find something to throw at her father (glass or plate was yet to be determined), he finished his sentence. "… to Mr Darcy!"

Elizabeth and Darcy both gasped in alarm hard enough to deprive the room of what little air was left, and both stood up abruptly to argue vigorously. Most did not know it was the very first occasion where their actions were in harmony.

Seemingly unaware of the chaos his words brought, Mr Bennet raised his glass rather unsteadily and shouted, "A TOAST TO THE GROOM!"

"HERE HERE!" Sir William boomed, and the rest of the company joined in.

Everyone in the room had long assumed the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy must end with marriage or mayhem, so they were happy to support the former. Since the gentleman had stood up so expeditiously, many of the men on either side of him jumped up to slap his back hard enough to rattle teeth.

Elizabeth looked in consternation back and forth between Mr Bennet and Mr Darcy, hoping to wake from the nightmare, or for one of them to say something. Was it possible they had come to an agreement without her consent? She would not put it past her father, but Mr Darcy did not even like her! Perhaps he had been compromised by Miss Bingley and sought an escape. She supposed she could pass as any port in a storm. A good alternate theory was that Mr Darcy was as intoxicated as her father, but it seemed likely he would have collapsed by then if that were the case.

She desperately did not know what to think. What she could not do was say anything. Any words she spoke at that point would only make the matter worse, particularly when she heard her youngest sister's screeching voice practically shouting. "La, Lizzy and Mr Dour Darcy—What a joke!"

Elizabeth understood perfectly why she could say nothing, but Mr Darcy had no such constraints. He could end the debacle with a single word, but she assumed he had some plan to extract himself (and likely his friend) from the county with a modicum of dignity. At least, Elizabeth hoped he did. She wondered if such a debacle would leave her reputation in tatters, and tried her best to work out just what in the world her father was thinking.

While her mind circled round and round, Mr Bennet walked down the table on unsteadier legs than Elizabeth had ever seen, weaving from side to side and bumping into people, while she wondered exactly how much brandy he had consumed.

He at last wobbled up to Mr Darcy. "Come Lizzy… Darcy… we have business to discuss," then continued his unsteady gate toward the library without looking back.

Elizabeth looked at the gentleman in confusion, and realised she had previously only thought she understood his frowns and stares. He was presently looking at her like a bug about to land under his heel, and she shivered in fright. She doubted he would be violent, but it was quite obvious he was not a lamb to be led calmly to the slaughter.

This was going to be unpleasant!

With not the slightest expectation of pleasure, she walked around the end of the table, and joined her temporary beau in following her father. They walked a couple of feet apart, which might have set tongues wagging, but everyone would just assume they were trying to maintain the propriety of an engagement (after presumably being much more intimate a time or two).

They caught up with Mr Bennet just before he staggered into the library, banging his shoulder on the doorframe on his way in, and Elizabeth once again wondered exactly what and how much he had drank.

Mr Darcy closed the door behind them and Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she was impressed he did not slam it hard enough to knock it off its hinges.

Mr Darcy turned toward the Bennets his face full of icy fury and came up short to find himself facing a stone-cold-sober Mr Bennet, standing straight and tall, pointing at a small sofa.

"SIT… both of you… there, if you please," he said sternly with no pretence of politeness.

Elizabeth looked back and forth between the men and wondered if this was some sort of male bonding ritual she was unaware of. What was next? Swimming in an icy stream? Banging drums in the forest? Eating the raw liver of a freshly killed wolverine?

Mr Darcy had apparently had enough. "I will not sit, sir. I have no idea what you are about and no desire to find out. For myself, I will be gone from this infernal place within the hour, and I will strenuously advise my friend to be in the coach with me!"

Without batting an eye, Mr Bennet replied laconically. "Are you finished? It is good to get such things out of your system."

Nonplussed, Mr Darcy shook his head, but he did not seem to be a man to be shoved about. "Mr Bennet, if you think this is my first compromise attempt or that you have some novel tactic, you are very much mistaken. I have endured every stratagem known to man, up to and including publishing engagement notices in the papers—and yet, here I stand, unbowed and unwed."

"Yes, yes, yes… good for you. Let us not mince words, sir. Men can get away with a great deal. I am perfectly aware you can walk away with minimal repercussions, while my pack of daughters could suffer immensely. Quite simply, my daughters are presently standing on a listing ship that I put them in, while you are comfortably ensconced in a nice-solid lifeboat. YOU are in no particular danger, so might I just ask you, as a gentleman, to hold your boat beside our listing ship for ten minutes to listen to what I have to say."

Elizabeth was not in any particular mood to be fought over like a scrap of meat.

"How could you, Papa? You know Mr Darcy and I barely tolerate each other. Our family's reputation will be ruined by this debacle."

"You really think so, Lizzy?" he asked.

"As Mary says…" she began before her father cut her off abruptly with a rather unpleasant scoff.

Mary is like a stopped clock, right twice a day entirely by chance, but if you think she knows anything at all, you are not the clever girl I thought you to be."

"I am clever enough to know reputations are ruined by less than this, and you have five practically unmarriageable daughters under the best of conditions."

Mr Bennet sighed. "If you two will sit down and stop carping, I shall explain."

Darcy looked carefully at Elizabeth, and she returned the look. Their staring contest might have gone on all night, but Elizabeth finally sighed, faced her father and sat down where he directed, just wanting to get the miserable chore over with so she could start picking up the pieces.

Darcy looked at her another minute, then finally joined her on the duchess. The small sofa did not allow a lot of room between them but he judged it would have to do.

Mr Bennet took a facing chair that was surprisingly close, and the couple realised that he must have had the room arranged to his purpose in advance. The thought did not fill either with confidence.

Mr Bennet cleared his throat again. "Let me first address the lifeboat issue, since I doubt either of you will listen to a word I say beforehand."

"Proceed," Mr Darcy said, voice as gravelly as a rusty iron gate.

Elizabeth nodded, too angry to say anything.

"Can we all agree that I looked like a tap-hackled fool in the dining room, and in that state I was joined by my wife, my two youngest daughters, Mr and Mrs Hurst, Sir William, and not to put too fine a point on it, Mr Bingley?"

"What of it," Darcy snapped churlishly.

"Hypothetically, what happens if tomorrow I claim I have only vague memories of this whole debacle, I let Sir William explain what a fool I was to disregard his warnings about the London Punch, assert that you were quite the gentleman about the whole misunderstanding, and we all just marched on with our lives?"

Elizabeth found herself studying Mr Darcy far more intently than her father, so she saw his face tense and a violent retort form three separate times before he managed to speak. She found the whole thing so fascinating, she could not manage her own reply. She felt like a leaf caught in the wind and suspected she would not be able to act until she finally landed on the ground somewhere.

When his answer finally came, Mr Darcy thoroughly surprised her. "If I went along with the ruse, everyone would laugh at us, you would be considered about half as silly as your wife for a month or two, and …"

He paused, and Elizabeth found herself on the edge of her seat wondering what else he would say.

The man sighed dramatically. "… and I would be considered a good sport. I do not make friends easily, so …" then another long pause, "… I suspect my overall reputation in the neighbourhood would be enhanced. Your daughters would be embarrassed, but your behaviour at supper was only marginally worse than your wife, so it would all be forgotten."

"Exactly!" Mr Bennet declared with a smirk.

Elizabeth stared on open-mouthed wonder, and finally said, "That sounds like a good solution. We could enhance it by calling a footman right now to carry you to bed, Papa. This debacle could all be over in ten minutes!"

She found Mr Darcy staring at her quite disconcertingly, but could not fathom why he was not halfway to the door to call the footman already.

Her father said gently, "Elizabeth, what makes you think I would go to all this trouble to force you two together only to throw it all away a couple minutes into the conversation?"

She shook her head violently, uncertain she had heard correctly. She stared at her father hard for a minute, then divided her attention between him and the lunkhead beside her, who seemed to have nothing more to say.

She finally said, "Why did you do it? Is this one of your jokes? I know you love to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn, but this seems drastic, even for you."

Darcy said, "Am I to presume you actually think you can force a marriage, Mr Bennet?"

The thought had never even occurred to Elizabeth. She had always been of the opinion that Mr Darcy was as impervious to machinations as a mountain.

She stared at the gentleman in consternation. "You cannot be serious!" Then turned her attention on her father with a piercing stare.

He grimaced."I cannot and will not force a marriage… I only seek to encourage one."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open in shock. She waited a moment for Mr Darcy to throw something at her father, but when he failed to oblige, she said, "You are joking! Mr Darcy and I do not even like each other!"

She thought she was simply stating an unambiguous fact, like water was wet or rocks were hard, so she was surprised to hear Mr Darcy gasp in apparent shock.

She looked at him and he said, "Do not like each other? Explain!"

Still taken aback, she started wondering how to explain something so simple to such a dunderhead.

While Mr Darcy was sputtering, Elizabeth left him to his confusion and turned to her father. "Why, Papa?"

He snapped his reply in the most severe voice she had ever heard.

"Because I never, in the entire course of my life, have met two people so perfectly matched for each other, but so determined to mistrust and misunderstand each other as to prevent any rapprochement. Mr Darcy would swim to shore dragging his lifeboat with a rope between his teeth just to demonstrate his manliness and Lizzy would rather go down with the ship than take a seat on his perfectly good boat. You are both stubborn and wilful, and I will not allow you to sleepwalk to your mutual dooms without even trying."

"But… but… but… we do not even like each other!"

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, Mr Darcy snapped, "That is the second time you said that Miss Elizabeth. Could you clarify your statement?"

Elizabeth stared at him until he started sweating and had to wipe his brow with the back of his coat-sleeve.

She almost whispered, "Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me… she a beauty, I would as soon call her mother a wit."

Elizabeth frowned. "You can thank Miss Bingley for that last little gem—if she did not just make it up."

He sighed defeatedly. "I said it… much to my shame."

"You can understand my assertion."

"I can, but may I…"

"May you what? She snapped angrily. "I am not handsome enough to dance with, and time is wasting. The sooner we end this debacle, the less damage our reputations will take. You have your nice lifeboat, but I will have to live with the neighbours stares for months and …"

Then she paused a moment, and a tear almost fell from her eyes, "I will still be unlikely to marry a man of any consideration in the world."

Darcy stared at the floor in shame while Mr Bennet intervened forcefully.

"Now I think you are beginning to understand my purpose. I have never in my life seen two such well-matched people. Mr Darcy, you spread offence everywhere you go like a fisherman spreads stink—but you are, I believe, in essentials a good and honourable man, who just needs a lively wife to help smooth out his manners. Simply being married so you do not have to watch your back would be a boon, and marriage to the right wife would be a treasure. Lizzy, you are a diamond in the rough, neither fish nor fowl in this wretched backwater. You need a man of sense and education you can respect and look up to, who can show you the world. Simply put, you really need a man who needs you, not one who needs a mindless ornament."

He paused a moment for the couple to absorb his words, and looked back and forth to give them a chance to contradict him if they dared.

He turned to Darcy. "You, sir, remind me of a dog eyeing a bone he cannot have. I suspect you have some strong feelings for my Lizzy, but are constrained by the expectations of your upbringing, by her relative poverty, and frankly, by he desire to not be attached to her somewhat ridiculous family… though I doubt yours is any better if you examine it critically."

Darcy thought of his Aunt, Lady Catherine, but said nothing as the patriarch turned his attention on his recalcitrant daughter.

"Lizzy, you nurse your resentment like like a dog with a bone just so you can chew it for a few days, then bury it in the yard, only to dig it up a week later to give it a few more bites. The man had a bad week or two, but at his worst I suspect he was not that much less sociable than I am at my best. He was being hunted like sport, with no subtlety whatsoever. He said some unfortunate things, but you have never given him a chance to apologise, or even let him know he was in your brown books."

He leaned forward and fixed her with a stare. "He refused to dance with you once, before you had even been properly introduced, while your mother was in full flower about Bingley and Jane, blathering on about 5,000 a year or 10,000 or what have you. Since then, by my count, he has requested four dances to be granted one… and begrudgingly at that."

"How do you know about that?" she asked, mostly to distract from the discomfort of the assertion.

"I know far more than you give me credit for, my girl. Will you not give him a chance?"

"He does not want a chance, Papa," she said softly.

"Oh yes, he does. He just has not quite defeated his ancestors yet. You have no idea the pressures a man of his society faces, any more than he has any idea what you do. Will you both continue enjoying your wilful ignorance forever? Are you both more enamoured with your intransigence than the possibility of felicity?" he said forcefully.

He glanced at Mr Darcy, and shook his head to discourage anything he might say in his defence.

"I firmly believe that if I do nothing, you two would wed within the year, but not without some real difficulties—and the whole thing could easily come to naught. Ordinarily, I would just let nature take its course, but …"

With that, both antagonists looked at him carefully.

Elizabeth said, "… but what, Papa?"

"But I would not live to see it. I have a cancer, and do not expect to see the summer," he said with a resigned sigh.

Both gasped, finally understanding the reason for his misguided, though bold intervention.

With a sigh, Mr Bennet stood up and looked carefully at both before he spoke softly.

"I am going over there," he said, pointing to a chair over in the corner, out of hearing. "I should like you to discuss things. Marry now… marry later… never marry… love each other… hate each other… it is entirely your choice—but at least you will know what you are choosing."

With that, he walked rather creakily over and sat down while the potential couple stared in consternation.

Elizabeth gazed at her father in confusion, unable to think of anything beyond the fact that he would soon be absent from her life. She was not even giving Mr Darcy a single thought until she heard him clear his throat.

She slowly turned her attention to the gentleman and nodded encouragingly, unable to speak.

Darcy spoke softly, "We have things to discuss, Elizabeth."

The use of Elizabeth went almost unnoticed, but not quite. "It is funny that everyone in the world knows my Christian name, but I doubt anyone in the county save Mr Bingley knows yours."

The non sequester made him chuckle slightly with the realisation it may have been the first thing she ever said to him without malice.

"It is Fitzwilliam. The eldest Darcy son is given his mother's maiden name as a sign of respect."

"It is an admirable tradition… if the name is not too awkward."

He shrugged. "I do admit it is an awkward name. Only my aunt uses it. Most call me Darcy, but my sister calls me William. I would be pleased if you did the same."

She stared at him a moment, scrunching her face in confusion.

"Are we to be friends then… William?"

"Perhaps, but allow me apologise for my many offences first."

"After tonight's events, I hardly think you have monopolised impropriety in our acquaintance. My beauty you early withstood, and as for my manners–my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Add in my parent's mercenary machinations of the last hour, and your offences seem rather paltry. On balance, I think you are due more apologies than I."

"Perhaps, it is best to simply leave all of that behind us," he said gently while reaching over to take her hand in a manner that could be friendly or flirtatious.

"I would like that," she said surprisingly shyly, and gave his hand a light squeeze.

"What next?" she asked timidly, still perturbed by her father's declaration.

"Now we have some decisions to make… together," he replied, surprisingly timely.

"What decisions could we possibly make here and now?" she asked, curious about what he could be thinking.

While it was true that her father's declarations put an entirely new perspective on things, Elizabeth assumed Mr Darcy would take the proffered lifeboat. She thought that in the unlikely event their friendship survived and flourished—somehow—that they might eventually be something more. With her father's perspective, and after giving up on her resentment, she began to believe Mr Darcy was a good, though awkward man. Perhaps he might even be a very good man, but the time to realise that was six weeks overdue.

He still had her hand, much to her surprise. "We need to decide whether to wed now or later. I suppose we also should account for the bleak scenario that we do not wed at all, but that seems unlikely to me."

Elizabeth stared in consternation and snapped, "Are you mad?"

"Not any more," he said in an exasperatingly calm manner.

She shook her head to try to clear it. "I do not comprehend you."

"Hardly surprising," he said with a chuckle that alternately made her want to laugh and scream.

He squeezed her hand again and she was surprised to find he still had hold of hers, and further amazed that she did not seem to mind.

"Do you remember the half-hour we spent together in this very room the day you left?"

"I would call it the most awkward half-hour of my life—until supper."

Darcy chuckled. "With my newfound understanding, may I assume your thoughts included quite a number of thoughts that included words like 'hateful man', 'rude', 'clodpole', and so forth."

"I suppose so."

He squeezed her hand again and felt it trembling.

"Would you care to speculate what my thoughts were?"

"I know my limits," she asserted quietly.

"I mostly concentrated on not raising expectations unless I was prepared to fulfil them. It is unfair to the lady and ungentlemanly."

"You cannot be serious!" she snapped in alarm.

"I am absolutely serious. I now comprehend it was my pride doing my thinking, but I was concerned I had paid you too much attention."

Elizabeth's eyes scrunched in concentration, trying and failing to look at those four days through his eyes.

Finally she gasped, "You were flirting with me?"

"Awkwardly—and as it turns out, ineffectively—but yes."

She did not even realise that in her shock she had moved her other hand to take his, apparently seeking some sort of comfort, but he certainly did (though he wisely remained silent).

She chuckled ruefully. "If that is what counts for flirting in your world, I am not surprised you survived a decade unscathed, as you put it."

He grunted. "You can have no idea how difficult it was."

"Is it as hard as looking for a husband in a tiny market town, without a dowry, but with a silly mother, an indolent father and four sisters?"

"Point to the lady," he laughed, and she felt just a bit lighter.

She frowned worriedly. "Just to be clear, are you saying you were attracted to me even then?"

"Do you truly believe I am the sort of man Sir William can force into an activity where dukes have failed?"

"The dance at Lucas Lodge?"

"Yes, I wanted to dance with you then. When I asked you at Netherfield I was serious. Both refusals did you no harm as they showed a lack of mercenary intent. I am not certain I would have been sanguine had you refused me at the ball."

"I suppose fortune stilled my thoughts. I tried to come up with an excuse and failed," she said, but squeezed his hand to remove the sting.

"Because of Wickham's words?" he asked carefully.

"Partially, but as we discussed previously, your own words did you no favours either.

"Without excusing my own behaviour, I must say he is the most gifted and prolific liar I ever met."

"I will take your word for it," she said. "As far as I know, though your words have not been to my liking, I cannot say you have ever lied to me."

"Unless you count lies of omission," he said.

"Tell me."

He sighed. "I have long admired you, but as your father correctly surmised, I felt I owed it to my ancestors to find the kind of Darcy bride that has always been expected, as I was taught vigorously from an early age."

"And now?"

"I want to pay more attention to my own needs than long-dead ancestors."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"The Darcy traditions that make sense should be maintained, and those that do not encourage felicity, discarded."

She looked confused.

He laughed lightly. "While my name is awkward, I appreciate the respect shown to my mother. I can get the same benefit without the awkwardness. I find Bennet to be good name for a son."

Elizabeth stared at him for some time, and finally replied, "That seems a lot for one conversation."

She thought about it for some time, while he let her do so.

"Let me ask you this, and answer honestly," she asked pensively. "Absent the events of this evening, would you be pursuing me?"

It was his turn to think carefully. He finally acceded, "It depends on which of tonight's events we consider."

"Such as?"

"Before your father's intervention, certainly not. I would have left and probably dragged Bingley with me based on your mother's words at supper… but…"

In complete confusion, Elizabeth asked, "… but?"

"… but if you had danced with me willingly, and we enjoyed our conversation rather than quarrelling about Wickham, I think I would have been unable to leave. I think …"

He spent some time trying to come up with the right way to say what was in his heart. "… that I would have still fought my ancestors, but I would have prevailed and courted you in the end. Even if I had left …"

And then he thought some more. "… I think your father is right. I would have eventually come for you… somehow. I believe our fates are tied."

"Presuming a lot, are we not?" she said teasingly with a bit of a laugh.

Darcy was feeling quite bold, and more confident than the conversation thus far really indicated.

"That is my teasing Elizabeth that I love."

She stopped laughing abruptly and stared at him. When he closed the distance and sat there with their faces half a foot apart looking longingly into her eyes, she faintly relented. Her eyes showed enough acceptance for him, but she also moved her face closer until their lips came together in a sweet kiss.

The kiss was short and awkward, but it felt like the sealing of a bargain. Elizabeth still had not decided that she was in love with the lunkhead, but her father's actions demanded she make a choice that evening. Unlike her friend Charlotte, she wanted to be in love with her husband, but had faith she could manage it with Darcy. She did not know precisely why she had that faith, but presumed she must have had some sort of tendre for him all along. She even thought the time to fall in love might be measured in hours or days, rather than months.

Also, while she could have let Darcy escape in his lifeboat, there was no guarantee he would come back for her. Worse yet, to have an engagement become a not-engagement only to become an engagement at some nebulous time in the future, with her father's demise hanging over their heads; seemed like an awful lot of risk and trouble when they could decide together, right then and there. The decision, once made, felt right. It felt natural. To her father's point—it felt inevitable.

With a smile, she said, "I suppose we are already engaged with my father's blessing."

"I should ask nonetheless," he said sceptically.

"I think not."

"Why not?" he asked in some puzzlement.

She laughed. "Proposals are tricky, and you have not had any time to work out a good one. I prefer we just accept the fait accompli. It makes for a better story for our grandchildren. Perhaps later," she said, then looked down shyly, "when we are more comfortable with our better established love, we can propose to each other."

"I would love that above all things."

With a laugh, she jumped up and dragged him to his feet. With his willing compliance they raced across the room, both thinking that for such a pathetic library it had certainly had its share of high and low half-hours.

As Elizabeth rounded the chair her father sat in, she felt a level of joy she could not possibly have anticipated at the start of the encounter. For some reason, she was certain beyond any doubt that her father had chosen the best possible husband over her vigorous objections.

With the biggest smile imaginable, she nearly shouted, "You are right, Papa! We are to be the happiest couple in the world."

She thought he must have been quite satisfied with his night's work, as she saw a subtle but well satisfied smile on his face.

It took a moment to notice that his eyes were open, and would never close of their own accord again.

~~ Finis ~~