"I am afraid I interrupt," Mary asked, looking wide-eyed between Elizabeth and Darcy.
"You certainly do," Elizabeth replied with a smile; "but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."
"In fact, it is timely," Darcy said softly. "I believe I have stunned Miss Elizabeth into silence."
"And you know what an unnatural state that is," Elizabeth said with a nervous chuckle.
Mary looked back and forth between the two, while both looked at her, at the ground, at the tree, at the house, (at anything, really) except each other.
"Is this shocking discourse something I should hear, or shall I leave you to it?" Mary asked quietly.
The sun had quietly gone down during their ramble, and twilight was telling them they had perhaps a half-hour at best before full dark.
"Pray remain," Elizabeth said bluntly, then took a deep breath. "Mr Darcy has asked to court me."
Mary froze for what seemed a very long time, the cold entirely forgotten, her face scrunched in deep thought. She finally whispered, "That explains a great deal."
Elizabeth seemed surprised Mary did not ask what her answer was; while Darcy seemed happy to have a distraction to allow Elizabeth to get over the entirely reasonable upheaval of his request.
"Explains what?" Elizabeth asked.
"Everything… just… everything!" Mary replied, and when she saw the look of confusion on Elizabeth's face, she added, "If you have no objections, I shall clarify."
"No objections whatsoever," Darcy said. He seemed perplexed by the way the discussion was proceeding, but nothing about the day had been ordinary anyway.
"You remember when you played at Lucas Lodge and Sir William tried to goad you into dancing with Mr Darcy?"
"Yes," Elizabeth said with a frown.
Darcy chuckled. "Tried is the operative word. I did ask but your sister was steadfast in her refusal… quite stubborn about it, as I recall."
Elizabeth scoffed. "As if you really wanted to dance! I saved us both from Sir William's machinations."
"Perhaps not," Mary said before it could degenerate into an argument.
"What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, Mary turned to Darcy. "I shall answer your questions with another that will make everything clear."
"All right," Elizabeth said sceptically, while Darcy nodded in silent agreement.
"At Lucas Lodge, what exactly did you say to Miss Bingley to make her face look like she swallowed a wasp?"
Darcy startled, looked thoughtful, then smiled in recognition. "Shall I repeat it verbatim?"
"I expect no less."
Darcy pinched his nose to raise his voice to a squeak.
"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner-in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise-the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!"
He returned his voice to a deep rumble, apparently to show he was emulating himself.
"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."
Returning to his normal voice, he continued gently.
"She naturally asked me to be more explicit about who owned the aforementioned fine eyes, and I replied: Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Elizabeth stared in utter confusion though Mary looked far less surprised.
"I neglected to mention your fine singing voice, light and pleasing figure, or intelligent conversation; but I suspect she got the gist from the key words: on the face of a pretty woman. I believe that was the moment her dislike of you turned to hatred, although she spent the next twenty minutes teasing me about my future mother-in-law and how often she would be at Pemberley."
Elizabeth scrunched her forehead in confusion. "Light and pleasing figure? Pretty woman?"
"You must see it, Lizzy. Even your legendary stubbornness will succumb to the observation that Mr Darcy's attraction to you is not the work of a moment. Charlotte noticed him staring and listening to your conversations clear back then… barely a fortnight into their visit. She mentioned it to me occasionally, and I have been equally confused by the same observations… right until this moment."
Finding speculation unhelpful, Elizabeth stared at Darcy and asked bluntly, "Is this true?"
"It is! My admiration is not the work of a day, and it is stronger than I earlier implied. I cannot say whether I would have acted on it or not, but the admiration was there."
"Why minimise it when you asked to call on me?"
He chuckled. "I was already taking my life in my own hands with my precipitousness. I did not want to press my luck—not to mention Miss Mary's sudden appearance right in the middle of the conversation."
"Yes, I can see that. You have had quite a number of difficult speeches the past six hours."
"That I have!"
"How did it start… if I may be so bold as to ask?" Elizabeth asked gently. "To be clear, I am not rejecting you—but you must admit that the transition from not handsome enough to dance with to handsome enough to marry is a bit much for half a day's friendship."
"That is both understandable and fair," he said pensively, then tried his own luck at remembering, before finally working on an answer.
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
"Sly things, these feelings," Mary said with a laugh that Elizabeth very much appreciated. Things were far too serious for her liking, but she did not want to spoil the mood with teasing, which could so easily be misinterpreted.
"That they are, Miss Mary… that they are. I have admitted that my first impressions of the neighbourhood were little better than your first impressions of me—with the obvious difference that your estimations were correct, while mine were prideful nonsense."
"Do not overdo it. We have forgiven you, so additional self-flagellation is unnecessary and self-defeating," Elizabeth said gently.
He laughed. "You are unique—the very first person in the history of England to advise a Darcy man to apply less humility."
Mary laughed uproariously, while Elizabeth simply smiled. Eventually, both ladies averaged their reactions to a quiet giggle (or chuckle since they universally associated giggling with Lydia and Kitty).
Darcy chuckled softly himself. "I suppose that night in Lucas Lodge could serve as a beginning. I started listening to your conversations …"
"You know eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves," Mary said with a laugh.
They all joined, and the tension all three had been feeling was relieved a bit. The fact that something very much like a proposal was being handled with three people in the dead garden in twilight of a cold November afternoon, and that it was triggered by multiple bouts of eavesdropping, gave all three an appreciation for how unconventional the situation was.
Darcy laughed, "I suppose if I had listened often enough back then I might have learned of my folly sooner—but back to the point."
"By all means," Elizabeth said, feeling less nervous as time went on.
"My admiration made a big leap at Netherfield when you and your sister very politely and with great propriety flayed us alive with our own words."
"That is far from expected."
"To be honest, by that time I had almost forgotten what I said at the assembly. I did not remember it until after you and Miss Bennet left the yard."
"You are not doing your suit any favours with that statement."
"I know, but the time for prevarication and dishonesty is long past."
Elizabeth nodded but did not feel the need to beat the point into the ground.
"The feeling of admiration had been sneaking up on me for some time, but I did not fully realise it until I saw you helping your sister… ah… halfway to Longbourn."
Lizzy appreciated his delicacy, but she was not so fastidious. She told Mary with a grimace, "Jane was being sick over the side of Nellie. It was not our finest moment."
Darcy said gently, "To the contrary, I believe it was. It showed me the type of women you are. I noticed—far later than I should—that you were supporting each other against all obstacles. I do not know, but I can easily imagine how uncomfortable it is to get on a horse without a saddle or habit, riding astride, on a cold November day, in front of two so-called-gentlemen who had shown you nothing but ill manners, after barely escaping a madhouse—and yet, you did it without qualms."
"I suppose so," Elizabeth said reluctantly. "My choices were limited."
"That is not all I saw in my epiphany. I believe, in that moment, I got a look at both sisters' character, and wished to have some of that in my life. I suspect that if Miss Bingley disparaged anyone but you, Miss Bennet would not have been so fierce, as it is not in her nature—but she defends you like a lion with her cubs. Contrarily, I suspect if you had found your sister asleep for an hour, you might never have told her about it and would have born the bad manners in silence for her sake. You are both more protective of the other than yourselves. In addition to all that, I would bet a year's income that Mrs Bennet blamed you for abandoning the field early and continues to do so to this day. She is careful to hold her tongue around me, but I doubt she is so circumspect in my absence."
"He has you there," Mary observed.
Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose we will never know. If nothing else, it allows me a window into your thinking, which is somewhat opaque at the moment."
Mary agreed readily, then laughed. "I believe Shakespeare said music is the food of love, but he has it all wrong."
"Do tell," Elizabeth said.
"Disgorgement is," Mary said and laughed uproariously. Darcy and Lizzy joined almost immediately, and they all felt better for it (as is often the case with being sick).
Darcy ended up having to wipe tears from his eyes, while smiling at Mary in thanks.
When their mirth had run its course, Elizabeth asked, "By your own admission it would have been more sensible to wait to ask to call on me. Why court disaster by acting precipitously?"
"Your question is a good one, and something that I only understood after I asked. The main reason is basic honesty. Do you remember when we followed you home to Longbourn? The last thing you did was carry Miss Bennet into a back door. You looked to me and instead of turning your nose up, as would have been your right, you still, even then, gave me the respect of a proper leave-taking."
"My politeness is stronger than my common sense, I suppose."
"Bingley and I headed back toward Netherfield, and when we reached the lane, we decided to race."
"I suppose getting yourself killed might have seemed an improvement to the day you were having," Mary said with a laugh.
"Perhaps… but would you like to know what I said to Bingley before I kicked my horse into a gallop?"
"Dying to know," Elizabeth said, far curiouser than she wanted to admit.
"I said—and I quote—I intend to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet!"
The sisters stared at him in wonder for a moment.
Neither lady had any rebuttal, so Darcy continued.
"I asked you because to know my intentions and not tell you would be dishonest, and disguise is my abhorrence. Every conversation we had as I worked up the nerve to call on you or ask your hand would be burdened by that dishonesty. It would make the English courtship system go from bad to terrible."
Both ladies seemed confused.
"Might I explain?" Darcy asked, and then continued at their nods.
"Let us take your Reverend Fordyce, for example. His advice for courtship mirrors the general standards of modern society. For women, he blathers on at great length about the need to be passive and yielding, rather than active and assuming. Basically, you are supposed to give no real hint about your feelings, or if you do, to make them so subtle it would take an oracle to intuit them. The duty of the man is to take the lead and to act with prudence and honour."
"And what is wrong with that?" Mary asked rather acerbically.
"It is dishonest and inefficient. A couple who follows the rules of society will spend a couple of months talking about the weather, or their family, or the gossip of the neighbourhood… anything really, except what is most important. What is in their hearts is what matters, but a lady is considered too forward if she says what is in her heart before the man states his intentions; while the poor lunkheaded man is supposed to guide them both toward the alter, making all decisions for both, without ever actually being able to discuss it. If a man discusses these things, he can easily become obliged, and if a woman brings it up, she is considered fast."
Elizabeth squeezed his forearm and replied, "I believe you are correct. Can you imagine if I had not overheard you in the parlour? I would have taken care of Jane for a few days. She might have spent an hour or two with Mr Bingley, and perhaps their nascent courtship would have proceeded to something more permanent. I doubt the gentleman would have ever really gotten to know her before marriage, because with a mother like ours, Jane has to err on the side of caution with regard to propriety. The success of their marriage would be entirely a matter of chance."
Mary appeared deep in thought, so Darcy said, "I understand you like the reverend's works, Miss Mary, and I applaud quite a lot of what he writes, but not all. You are wise enough to separate the wheat from the chaff."
"I have not been that wise thus far," she said dejectedly.
Darcy chuckled. "Cheer up. You must be what… around eighteen? If so, I can assure you that when I was your age, I was as dumb as a bucket of rocks."
Mary giggled, while Elizabeth laughed openly. "You still were this morning."
"Point taken," he said with a smile.
Elizabeth sighed. "I suppose it is fortunate the good reverend is dead these fifty years, as we have broken nearly every rule he had."
"If you allow it, I will break one more."
"Feel free," Elizabeth said nervously.
"The problem with an ordinary courtship is the uncertainty and unfairness… especially to the woman. You are supposed to remain demure, docile and uninvolved—all characteristics you will have to abandon if you want to be a successful mistress of a significant estate. Docility in a mistress is an enormous deficit, and no man with the slightest bit of sense would marry one of Reverend Fordyce's exemplars."
"Agreed… I suppose," Mary said confusedly. "When you put it like that, everything from the expected behaviour to the worthlessness of most accomplishments seems counterproductive. Music is useful to a family, as are sewing and embroidery; but painting screens and the like are a waste of time and talent.
Elizabeth said, "I never really thought about it before, but it does seem ill defined. A woman is supposed to sit docilely waiting for a man to ask for her hand, and then she has only the power of refusal… if that. The man, in the meantime, is supposed to look at this opaque lady who society requires to hide her true nature, and then eventually decide to make a move. It sounds exhausting."
"It is… which is why I wish to turn it on its head."
Both ladies looked curiously but decided to remain silent and give him his head.
"I would like to ask you two questions, Miss Elizabeth. You may answer them in any order and at your own pace. I will remain in the area until you answer both. Does that seem fair?"
"I suppose it depends on the questions."
"Then allow me to proceed with the first… but I will request you hold all answers until you have heard all the questions."
"By all means," she said with a nervous smile.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You must allow me to tell you how much I admire and love you. I would humbly ask your permission to call on you, for the purpose of courtship, so we may determine if we can make the love match I believe we both earnestly desire?"
Elizabeth stared, eyes round as saucers, and finally nodded to acknowledge she had at least heard and understood.
"The second question," she asked nervously.
"Miss Elizabeth, I believe you are the love of my life and I can be yours if we respect each other and work for it. I humbly request the honour of your hand in marriage?"
Mary and Elizabeth both stared with tears in their eyes. This was NOT how proposals were supposed to work, but it was a thing of beauty in its simplicity.
Darcy chuckled. "I suppose I should have gone on my knees for the last one, but it would have given the game away early."
The ladies laughed along with him, feeling much more sanguine about the whole thing.
Mary said, "I suppose the freezing cold ground had no effect on your decision."
"As I told your sister, we are tougher than average up north… but not stupid (my behaviour the last month notwithstanding)."
Mary laughed but noticed Elizabeth had not really been paying attention. She raised an eyebrow in question.
Elizabeth reached out both hands to Darcy, and he took them in his.
"To the first question, I would be very happy to have you call on me, so you may consider that one answered. I suppose you should speak to my father so we can do this courtship as properly as possible but let us keep it among our tight circle for a few days. I should like to break the news to my mother gradually."
"Agreed! I assume the small circle includes Miss Bennet, as well as my sister and my cousin. It will not include Bingley until Mrs Bennet knows."
"Agreed," both sisters said simultaneously.
"I suppose we should get out of the cold, and you should speak to my father," Elizabeth said.
"It seems advisable to do so before I muck it up," Darcy said with a chuckle.
He offered an arm to both ladies and they walked toward Longbourn and their shared fate.
Just before they entered, Elizabeth said, "I promise an answer to your second question before the new year."
He smiled and gave her a brief kiss on the back of her hand.