The whole Bennet household is involved here!

Chapter 3

After accepting, or, more accurately, being thrown like a dinghy over the falls into Mr. Darcy's proposal, Elizabeth's departure from Netherfield was a blur.

At least Mrs. Bennet was pleased. She went on for the entire carriage ride home with exclamations of, "Oh! What joy! What joy! Our Lizzy engaged to Mr. Darcy!" and "Oh, what a fine wedding it will be! And what a wedding breakfast! We must insist on Netherfield! I wonder, Mr. Collins, will Mr. Darcy persuade his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to attend?"

Mr. Collins sat at Elizabeth's right and across from Mrs. Bennet as her mother had insisted on the journey to Netherfield, his ruddy face a mix of sour and colicky. "I cannot speak for Lady Catherine de Bourgh," he said, "but I am sure she would not wish to attend such a hasty wedding."

"Hasty!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, her eyes wide with shock and offense. "Mr. Collins!"

Lydia, seated at her mother's left, muttered, "I suppose this is one way to ensure you are the first of your sisters wed."

"You could learn something from your sister." Mrs. Bennet turned towards Lydia, her tone sharp. "If you were more like Lizzy-"

A worm of mirth squirmed in Elizabeth's chest at her mother's words. She'd have thought herself dead and buried before her mother declared Elizabeth superior to her darling Lydia. Let alone to have Mrs. Bennet insist Lydia act more like Elizabeth! Perhaps she was still in her bed at Longborn dreaming. Or perhaps she lay abed, delirious from some plague. That was as likely as the events of this evening: Mr. Darcy's kiss. Elizabeth's response. And Mrs. Bennet's approbation.

"Mama," Jane interjected, her tone soft but firm. She sat on Elizabeth's opposite side. "I am sure Mr. Collins did not intend any insult to Elizabeth or Mr. Darcy."

"I also believe Mr. Darcy and Lady Catherine's esteemed daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, have an understanding," Mr. Collins added with no attempt at apology, his tone instead smug.

Elizabeth's skin felt cold. She knew little of Mr. Darcy's family beyond that which she had gleaned from gossip and Mr. Collins' incessant praise of Lady Catherine. But if he was engaged to another...

No.

Mr. Darcy would not have been so rakish as to insist on a proposal if he was promised to another. Then again, how much did she know about Mr. Darcy? She would never have suspected him capable of genuine passion. Certainly not for Elizabeth. He had shown little interest in her prior to the ball, where he had kissed her with the fervor of a man possessed by the devil himself.

What troubled her more was how fervently she had kissed him back. That brief touch, the sweet, effervescent taste of his lips, had ignited something within her. Something primal and all-encompassing. Elizabeth shook her head, ignoring her mother's protest that Mr. Darcy could not have been so dishonorable as to declare an engagement without the intent to follow through.

The carriage came to a halt before Longbourn, and Elizabeth followed her mother and younger sisters inside, her head still spinning.

Jane, walking beside Elizabeth, took her hand. "Lizzy, how long have you and Mr. Darcy-?" She sounded hurt, and Elizabeth realized Jane thought Elizabeth had somehow been engaging in a secret courtship. A conclusion that sadly made more sense than the truth.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I kept nothing from you. I promise." She squeezed her sister's hand, hoping to send the sincerity of her words through their touch.

As they passed through the entranceway, Mrs. Bennet shouted with enough volume to shake the walls, "Mr. Bennet! Oh! We are home! Mr. Bennet! And our Lizzy, how clever she is, has brought us the most delightful news!"

Elizabeth's father appeared in the doorway of his study, his expression bemused. "Lizzy? The ball is over already?"

"Our Lizzy is engaged! To Mr. Darcy! She will be mistress of the Pemberley estate in Derbyshire!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed before Elizabeth could speak a word. "And the banns will be read on Sunday!"

Mr. Bennet's eyes widened, his expression a mask of bewilderment. "Mr... who?"

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy," Mrs. Bennet waved a hand dismissively, as if Mr. Bennet had implied Mr. Darcy was not a flesh and blood gentleman and some figment of her imagination. "He is worth ten thousand a year! And he is Lady Catherine de Bourgh's nephew. Mr. Collins, has spoken extensively of her virtues. Mr. Collins?" She looked around, only then noting the vicar's absence.

Elizabeth, who had also forgotten about her cousin after leaving the carriage, rubbed her hand over her forehead to relieve some of the growing pressure of what she suspected was an impending megrim.

"We are all well aware of Lady Catherine de Bourgh," Mr. Bennet agreed. "That is beside the point, my dear Mrs. Bennet. What is this of an engagement? I am sure I would remember if my daughter was engaged to a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Mr. Bennet's gaze shifted to Elizabeth. "Lizzy, is this true? Surely, this is an oddly timed jest."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "It is not jest, Papa."

Mr. Bennet frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied Elizabeth's face. "I see," he said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "The same Mr. Darcy who was so rude to you at the most recent Meryton assembly, yes? And when did you become engaged to Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth scraped her teeth over her lower lip, shifting on her feet as she had as a child when she had snuck into her father's study to steal sweets from his desk. She had never been able to lie to him then, and it was no easier now. "Tonight."

Mr. Bennet blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Lydia, who had been rocking back and forth on her feet, her expression one of barely suppressed glee, blurted out, "He kissed her in front of everyone! On the dance floor! It was a terrible scandal! They had no choice but to claim an engagement."

"Lydia!" Mrs. Bennet snapped. "You will not speak of your sister in such a tone!"

Elizabeth's sister Mary, who had, like Kitty, remained silent until this moment, cut in, "Mama is correct, Lydia. As it says in the book of Common Prayers: 'Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your father which is in heaven.'" She paused, her brow furrowing as she added, "Though I believe Elizabeth's actions, kissing Mr. Darcy with such vigor in full view of the entire ballroom, are not precisely what the Lord intended when he spoke those words."

Mr. Bennet's bushy gray eyebrows shot straight up.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in frustration. She did not want to be reminded that her actions were not what a proper young lady ought to do. She knew that. Or she ought to have. What had possessed her to return Mr. Darcy's kiss? Yes, Mr. Darcy was handsome, but he had treated her until that moment with profound disregard. What had possessed the gentleman to insist upon a dance, let alone...?

Her lips, her whole body, tingled with the memory of their kiss. The passion in that brief touch had rivaled any proclamation of love in verse or amatory tale. And it terrified her.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet said, and the use of her full name and not 'Lizzy" only increased Elizabeth's sense of guilt and shame. "If we could have a word in private." He beckoned her into his study.

"Yes, Papa," Elizabeth said softly, unable to meet her father's gaze as she followed him inside, the door falling shut behind them.

Elizabeth felt as though she were a child again, about to be scolded for some transgression. Worse, she felt she deserved the scolding. What had happened to send her so far from her head that she threw propriety and good sense to the wind to kiss Mr. Darcy, of all people, in full public display at Mr. Bingley's ball? The ball which should have been about seeing to her beloved sister Jane's future happiness.

Mr. Bennet gestured for her to take a seat in one of the chairs before his desk, and Elizabeth obliged him, sinking into the worn leather with a sigh.

"Now," Mr. Bennet said, taking his own seat behind the desk. "Of all my children, I've always felt you and I had the most similar temperament." An expression of weariness settled over Mr. Bennet's features. "So I suppose it should not surprise me that your lapses in judgment so closely resemble mine. Had I been ruled more by my head than my loins...," he sighed, his gaze drifting to the bookshelves that lined the walls. "Well, it does not matter now."

"Papa!" Elizabeth choked out. She had known her parents' marriage was not, at its core, a happy one. They did not have loud, angry rows as sometimes Charlotte's parents did, but sometimes Elizabeth wondered if explosions might have been preferable to her father's subtle mockery and removal to his study, and her mother's insistence that all would be solved if only she could give him a son. Or now, if only she could find each of her daughters a magnificent match.

Despite her mother's aggressive cheer and her father's mix of self-imposed isolation and ill-timed jests, Elizabeth knew they cared for each other. Even if their love was marred by neither understanding the other's true nature until after they spoke their vows.

And Elizabeth, who had sworn in her heart only to marry or love, had made an even more spurious match than her parents. One based entirely on a moment of lust. The memory of that kiss pulsed through her, and she hated how much she wanted again to taste Mr. Darcy's lips, to feel his arms around her.

She was a fool. And no matter how much her mother crowed about Mr. Darcy's ten thousand a year, no amount of riches could buy Elizabeth back the dream of love she had so callously set aside.

Mr. Bennet sighed heavily, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "So how long were the two of you courting in secret, then?"

"We were not."

Mr. Bennet barked a laugh. "I find it highly unlikely a gentleman of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's means would make such an offer without some prior attachment between you."

Elizabeth found it unlikely that a gentleman of any kind would have taken such an improper step as to kiss her without having had some prior attachment, let alone to do so on a crowded ballroom dancefloor. "It was sudden," Elizabeth explained. "At first, when our lips touched, I felt nothing but shock. And then..." Elizabeth remembered the hint of sweetness from his kiss, the tingling through her lips that seemed to catch fire through her whole body, turning what had been a slight sense of interest into a wildfire of curiosity and desire.

Mr. Bennet's expression darkened, and Elizabeth saw anger there in how he pressed his mouth into a tight line, his eyes narrowing. He did not speak for several moments, and Elizabeth wondered if he was trying to decide whether to be angry with her or with Mr. Darcy.

Finally, Mr. Bennet said, "The cad." He looked over at the grandfather clock and said, "The utter reprobate. Despite your mother's admonitions that I fail to understand the importance of a young lady's reputation, I know well enough not to storm to Netherfield this instance and insist on pistols at dawn, but let me assure you, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy will make this right."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, feeling as though her throat were lined with cotton. Her father's words seemed to echo in the room, sending a shiver down her spine. "Mr. Darcy has already made his intentions clear," she said softly. "The banns will be read on Sunday and the two thereafter."

"I suppose we must make a show of it until a solution can be found. But I will speak with Mr. Darcy on the morrow. And rest assured, if Mr. Darcy cannot ensure your happiness, you will not have to endure a lifetime of misery against your will. On that, you have my word."

Her father's vehemence frightened her, though she knew it was born of love. Elizabeth did not know what Mr. Darcy intended for their marriage, but if Elizabeth broke the engagement, no other man would have her, and even if they did, her mother would never forgive her for throwing away such a magnificent match.

"Thank you, Papa," she said softly. "But I am sure Mr. Darcy intends to honor his vows in spirit and letter."

"We shall see about that," Mr. Bennet muttered darkly as he rose from his seat and crossed to the bookshelf. "Now, it is late, and we both have much to consider. No matter what comes of this, you are my daughter, Lizzy. And we will see things right."

THANK YOU FOR READING! I'm away from home until Thursday night, but I wanted to get this posted before I left. Depending on how well I can write on the plane, I hope to next update posted on Friday, Saturday at the latest! It's a fun chapter, with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Caroline...