"Well, well, well." Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrow in a skeptical manner. He leaned back into his large and comfortable, well-worn armchair. "Now you wish to marry my daughter?"
"I have always wished to marry her." Darcy smiled politely at Mr. Bennet.
Bookshelves lined all the walls in Mr. Bennet's study, filled with a wide ranging mix of literature, history, science, and philosophy. There were the bound copies of the proceedings of two different societies following diggings in the ancient world, and a full set of the proceedings of the Royal Society, going back to some point in the middle of the previous century.
"Yes, yes — you cost me a great lot of trouble, you know.—" He gestured at a pile of The Philosophical Magazine. "Look how lonely that is. I cancelled my subscription to three other prints because you talked to Lizzy about how imprudent I am."
Darcy maintained steady eye contact with Mr. Bennet. "I agree. I should not have criticized your behavior to your daughter in such terms. Miss Elizabeth has already upbraided me herself for doing so, in more than one way, and on more than one occasion."
"And you were right. It would be better if I'd set aside somewhat more for the girls. But I hear that you enjoy books. It is a sad month in which you cannot buy any." Mr. Bennet sighed and shook his head. "A sad month."
"I agree." Darcy found he was rather enjoying this conversation with Mr. Bennet, even though he ought to be nervous at being querulously questioned by Elizabeth's father.
Perhaps he had been prepared by Elizabeth warning him several times over the course of the previous night that her father would be unhappy to lose her, especially given the distance between Longbourn and Pemberley. And Darcy was aided by two other powerful considerations: One was the sense that he had done wrongly at many points in the course of his connection with Elizabeth, and the other was that Mr. Bennet loved Elizabeth, and was loved dearly by her in turn.
"But none of that is important. Why is it that after deciding that my daughter was not good enough for you at the end of November have you now decided to offer for her hand." Mr. Bennet leaned back into his chair and stroked his chin. "Well?"
"Ah." Darcy nodded. "I see that you are operating under a misunderstanding. Last November, I did make an offer to Elizabeth. She refused it."
Mr. Bennet blinked in surprise. "She did?"
Darcy nodded.
A slow smile spread across the older man's face. "She did, did she? — you are very much the sort of man who it is generally impossible to refuse something to, once you deign to ask for it. That must have shocked you."
Darcy smiled ruefully. "You can scarce imagine."
"My Lizzy. What a wonderful girl." Mr. Bennet chortled. "She really refused you?"
"She is the finest woman in the world."
Bennet leaned back in his chair again, but now when he stroked his chin it was with a more contemplative air. "I must assume then that you have addressed the concerns that prevented her accepting your offer then?"
"I have. At the time I did not have a sufficient respect for you, for your family connections, and for her. Further, I considered as more important than I ought to the opinion that the world held of me and of my family name. I have learned to think differently, and I have learned what I value most. The sort of happiness that can come from a well-matched marriage to a woman worthy of being admired is what I truly want, and what I hope to find with your daughter."
"A fine speech, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied with an ironical tone.
"I practiced it on the horse ride here," Darcy replied, speaking in the same slow, confident and deliberate tone that he had made the speech with.
Mr. Bennet looked at him agog, and then he started laughing. "To think! I thought you humorless as well. Now I begin to understand why Lizzy likes you. It is not just that she'll have more carriages and pin money than Jane."
"She is the least mercenary woman I can imagine."
Mr. Bennet nodded. "Even though she did lecture me on imprudence. That speech still annoys me when I think on it. Because it was right. At least partly so — though I do not think the loss of station while there is still food and some comfort to be had is so serious of a matter as I think you do."
"I think it far less serious than I did last autumn — Mr. Bennet, there is one other point I would like to note about my conversation with Elizabeth at that time. I was attempting at that time to… to think through what part of my father's legacy and prejudices I wished to adopt for my own. And in so doing I compared you to my father, and there are ways in which the comparison was not favorable to you, but in the core, in the most important matter — what Elizabeth said to me was that she always knew that she was loved by her father. That is not something I can say. It is not something that my sister could say either. He did love me. I believe that. But in a hard way. And I think… I think any other incidental matter is less important than that. That your children know you love them."
"Lizzy said that? She did?" Mr. Bennet looked away from him to stare at the smoldering fire. A portrait of himself and Mrs. Bennet and himself in the clothes of two decades prior stood above it. On the mantlepiece were arranged in miniatures the portraits of all his daughters at close to their present ages. He wiped at his eyes. "Eh, I cannot manage to despise you when you speak in this way."
"Why do you think I do so?"
Bennet smiled. "Your father, he would not have ever asked for the hand of a woman whose uncle was a tradesman."
"Possibly not even if the tradesman was as wealthy as a Rothchild. Though perhaps he would have then. But even though I am my father's son, I am also my own man. Besides," Darcy added, "I like your brother Mr. Gardiner and his wife."
Mr. Bennet grinned. "Sensible man — far more capable than I am. He is my favorite of my relations. Far superior to Phillips — though perhaps less entertaining than Collins. You must encourage Mr. Collins to write you and Lizzy letters. The absurdity of them never fails to bring a smile."
"Can I then believe that you do not look with disfavor upon our match?" Despite his confidence, Mr. Darcy found himself hanging on Mr. Bennet's answer with far more intensity than he had anticipated.
"Yes, you can believe that." Mr. Bennet smiled. "I in fact would encourage you to hold that belief."
He then rang the bell, and when the maid showed up, Bennet said, "Would you call Mrs. Bennet to the room?"
When Elizabeth's mother came to the room, she looked at Mr. Darcy in a little confusion. "Mr. Darcy, my word! What are you doing here? — is something amiss with Mr. Bingley?"
"No, no. Bingley was in excellent spirits and health this morning when I parted with him before I left London."
"It makes me so nervous," Mrs. Bennet said. "To have one daughter engaged at last. It is simply not as certain as it will be once the marriage is formally solemnized. If only Lizzy had not refused Mr. Collins! She could have been the heir to this whole estate, and I would be wholly happy then, and not nervous at all. But my children all live to vex me, except for Jane."
Darcy had never really looked closely at her before. She was blonde, like Jane, and she was a woman who still had a surprising share of beauty for someone of her age. She must have been an exceptionally lovely girl when she was young. It made Mr. Bennet's marriage to her more understandable, even though the couple was still oddly matched.
It was difficult for Darcy to restrain an ironical smile as he and Mr. Bennet caught each other's eyes during this extended speech.
"Can you imagine it," Mr. Bennet said smiling to his wife, "Mr. Darcy has some news of our Lizzy. You will find it particularly vexing."
"Oh! Don't speak to me of Lizzy. She is too much like you." Mrs. Bennet then looked at Darcy. "I often fear that poor girl will never marry. If she refuses every offer that is made to her, what will be the end of her? Gentlemen do not offer twice. I love her, and I'll care for her as a spinster, but we'll all depend upon Bingley when Mr. Bennet dies, and I do not know what will become of Lizzy in the end. And to think. She is so beautiful! But with her temper and habits of mind — Lord!" Mrs. Bennet threw her hands up in the air. "But what news do you have?"
"Ah, well," Darcy said. "Mr. Bennet, are you certain you do not wish to make this announcement to your wife?"
"I wish to see how you manage."
"Mrs. Bennet, I have asked your daughter for her hand in marriage, and she has accepted my offer. So, you see, she will not die a spinster. At least not if I live long enough for the banns to be read. Further, she does not in fact refuse every offer of marriage that she receives."
Mrs. Bennet stared at him blankly. "You? Lizzy? No — impossible. Mr. Bennet, is this one of your jokes?"
"I assure you," Darcy said with rather more stress on his words than in his previous speech, "that I am wholly serious."
Now Mrs. Bennet was quiet and stared at him for a long time.
Darcy began to feel rather nervous that Mrs. Bennet would be the parent who in fact opposed the match. Given what he had seen of her mercenary tendencies — he was determined to respect and love his new relations, but he would not lie to himself about their faults — he had thought that she would be extremely forward in approving of the match.
And then, just as he was about to say something else, Mrs. Bennet got up, sat down again, got up again, and then said, "Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it? True? It is really true? Oh, my! Lizzy, how rich and great she will be! What pin money, what jewels, what carriages she will have! Jane's is nothing to it— nothing at all. I am so pleased—so happy. Mr. Darcy, you are such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! Oh, oh, my dear Lizzy!"
"Enough, enough, my dear," Mr. Bennet said, rising from his comfortable seat. "You must save some of your exuberance for your letter to Lizzy. It would hardly be fair to her if you spent it all on Mr. Darcy."
"Mr. Darcy, you must stay for dinner, and you must tell me if there is some dish you particularly like!"
"Of course, but I dare say I will enjoy whatever food you have cooked. I enjoyed it immensely the other time I dined here."
"Ten thousand a year! You are as good as a lord!"
Mr. Darcy found he could not think of any intelligent response to that, but he was glad that Elizabeth had warned him before that her mother's response was likely to be… excessive. She had said that she truly wished she would have been the one to inform her.
"He is better than a lord," Mr. Bennet said, "because there are no lords who love Lizzy and are in turn loved by her."
"Mrs. Bennet," Darcy said, "I would like to invite you and your husband to stay at my town house in London when you go to town. I know Lizzy planned to stay in town another two weeks, this would be an excellent time for your expertise to aid her in purchasing her trousseau."
"Oh, oh, oh! Of course."
"Now, now," Mr. Bennet said, "I do not like to travel overmuch."
"Mr. Bennet, surely you must acknowledge that the greatest collection of bookstores in the country is in London?"
"Yes."
"I have not purchased any books this month, and I'd like your expertise to help me add to my library collection. After all a month in which no books have been purchased is a sad one."
Mr. Bennet tilted his head. "You do not need my expertise."
"Then your storage — big as my library is, it is full. I believe I ought to loan you these books until such time as some extensions are made."
"Ah, yes," Mr. Bingley replied, and he waved at his stuffed shelves. "I think I understand you. You can see my shelves are nearly empty — and as they are, I will happily help you to store these books you will select with my expertise." Mr. Bennet had a sardonic smile. "I am always happy to help those in need, such as yourself."
"Excellent," Mr. Darcy replied.
"If I had not already given my blessing, I would assume you mean to bribe me."
"Of course, I do."
"You know, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said. "I think I shall visit you often, despite the distance."
"I hope you do."
In his mind, Darcy saw many, many years stretching forward and full of happy times, Elizabeth reading with her father when he visited Pemberley, children on the knee, the cries and coos of babies, and so much love.
Very, very much love.