Page 35 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)
CHAPTER 35
D arcy would have preferred not to have an audience accompanying him to Longbourn, but he could not shake Richard from his side. They cut through the fields and came across Bingley and John Lucas. Bingley joined them and parted from the latter, who wished them well and agreed to return to Netherfield on the morrow.
After the trio scraped their boots to Hill’s satisfaction, they were shown into Longbourn’s drawing room where the entire Bennet family sat at apparent leisure. Darcy knew better. The panting breaths, flushed cheeks, bits of ribbon escaping from under cushions, and the empty teacup he saw Mrs. Bennet shove behind her back made it evident that no callers were expected that afternoon. Least of all him.
Elizabeth sat watching him like a cat feigning indifference. He should have brought Arthur. She could not stay cross with him .
Miss Bennet greeted them warmly, prompting her mother to ring for tea. “Mr. Bingley, I pray Miss Bingley has recovered from her headache?”
Bingley shuffled in place. “Yes, yes, thank you for inquiring.”
“Of course. We could do no less for our neighbors and friends .” Miss Bennet emphasized the last word, capturing Bingley’s full attention when she continued. “It is my sincerest hope that we may continue as friends, Mr. Bingley. Nothing less and nothing more.”
Darcy held his jaw up. Had she just let down Bingley?
Bingley’s relief was instantaneous. Miss Bennet had spared him from disappointing any expectations. In doing so, she encouraged him to act as agreeably as he always did. Darcy checked Mrs. Bennet, but the lady contentedly fanned her face, mumbling, “An earl’s son!”
So that was how the wind blew! Now that Darcy saw it, he wondered how he had not noticed before. Richard tried not to blush or smile too widely, but he had rarely been successful at hiding his emotions.
Seats were taken—Darcy sat as near to Elizabeth as he dared—tea was served, and polite conversation reigned. Bingley would stay at Netherfield Park for the next two years at least, after which he would decide whether or not to purchase the estate. “I already like my neighbors, and with my sisters returning to London, I daresay it will be more peaceful.”
At this news, Elizabeth perked up. Her eyes brimmed with questions, but she asked only one. “Do all of your guests plan to return to London?”
While Darcy preferred not to expose his plan before everyone, he could not request a private audience with her. He needed the assembled group to play its role in his scheme for it to succeed. “That depends on you. My family arrived today from London for the wedding.”
Mrs. Bennet squirmed in her chair. “The earl and countess?”
Richard winked. “As well as the Right Honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Darcy addressed Elizabeth directly. “I believed my motives to be unselfish, but you were right about my sister.”
“And you were right about mine,” she confessed.
Her admission fueled Darcy’s courage. “From the beginning, you have borne the circumstances forced upon you… our engagement… with grace and good humor.”
“A forced marriage?” whispered Miss Bennet, lips parted, looking between her sister and Darcy.
“I hope you believe me when I say that, at the time, in Bingley’s study, I did not see another alternative. Over the next weeks, I did not want one.” Darcy’s voice faltered, but he pressed on. “You were never given a choice, Elizabeth, but I have the means to give you one today.”
Mrs. Bennet stopped fanning herself.
“Mary, the smelling salts.” Mr. Bennet spoke in a low tone.
“Ha! I knew it had to be a compromise! There is no way Lizzy would marry before me otherwise,” Lydia boasted.
Kitty hissed. “Oh hush, Lydia! You would sooner ruin us than see your sisters happily settled. You ought to be ashamed.”
The rebuke from her erstwhile partner in crime silenced her.
Darcy waited impatiently until the room fell silent. “Here is my offer, if you wish.” He swallowed hard. That was not enough, so he downed the rest of his tea. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he said, “If you would rather have your freedom than marry me, I”—rubbed his hand over his face and clutched his stomach—“I will jilt you to marry my cousin Anne de Bourgh.” He talked as quickly as he could, anxious to be rid of the detestable words. “I shall make myself out to be the worst sort of rascal to spare your reputation. You will have your friends’ pity, but you will not have to endure their scorn.”
“You would ruin your reputation, cast shade on your own honor, for Lizzy?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“Have you gone mad?!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. She fanned her face and called for her salts.
“If Elizabeth asks it of me, I would do it.” Another hard swallow. “Furthermore, my solicitor will prepare a settlement to be paid to Elizabeth and dispensed in the manner of her choice to demonstrate legally that I was the one at fault. I also have it on good authority that Lady Catherine means to offer a bribe of two thousand pounds.”
“I would settle for no less than five thousand,” offered Richard.
Mr. Bennet stood. “It is a tidy sum to secure a lady’s independence. What say you, Lizzy? Your freedom and a fortune—or Mr. Darcy. He places you in the enviable position of having your own choice in the matter.”
Richard rose to his feet with a bow. “It would give me great pleasure to call Darcy out publicly. I can also ensure the sympathy of the earl and countess.”
“Will you sit down?” Darcy snapped.
“I can be very convincing, I assure you.” Richard gave another bow.
“If you refuse to sit, then is there not somewhere—anywhere—else you would rather be?”
With a roguish grin, Richard held one arm out to Mrs. Bennet and the other to her eldest daughter. “Care for a stroll in the garden, ladies?”
Mr. Bennet followed suit, gesturing with his hands for the others to join him.
“I would take the money and run!” Miss Lydia exclaimed.
“Nobody cares what you think on the subject,” Miss Mary said dryly, shoving her sister out to the hall, leaving Darcy alone with Elizabeth.
They stood facing each other for an eternity. Her eyes, always so open and expressive, instead were a closed book. He would give his entire fortune, even Pemberley, to know Elizabeth’s thoughts.
Finally, she spoke. “I need a few minutes to think on the matter alone.”
He nodded. What else could he do? He was at her mercy.
She left the room.
Darcy sat watching the seconds tick by on the mantel clock until his limbs could be still no longer. He paced the length of the room until he had memorized how many steps it took him to get from one end to the other. Then he paced the width until he knew the dimensions of the room and the position of every piece of furniture—no small number, given Mrs. Bennet’s exaggerated tastes.
Usually vulnerable to uncertainty, Darcy was tormented by anguished doubts. What if Elizabeth did not want him? What if he had to marry Anne? Dear Lord, what had he done? Another bout of nausea gripped him, and he sat in the nearest chair with his head between his knees. Of all the bad ideas he had ever avoided, this was the worst.
The floor creaked, and he looked up to see Elizabeth in the doorway. Mrs. Hill was behind her, grinning her gappy grin, though Darcy failed to see what there was to be happy about. He had never been so miserable. He stood, holding on to the back of the chair for support.
Calmly, without expression, Elizabeth entered the room. In a heartbeat, the door slammed behind her, and Darcy heard Mrs. Hill lock them inside the parlor.
In the next moment, Elizabeth’s hands were spread against the lapels of his coat, sliding up to his collars, twirling his hair around her fingers. Her breath tickled his lips as she rose to her toes. “I want you, Fitzwilliam. Not your money, not your protection. You, you mad, lovable fool!”
He was too stunned to believe his good fortune. “Pray do not trifle with me. I love you too much.”
“I love you, Fitzwilliam. I choose you.”
His lips crushed down on hers. There was nothing tentative about the way she responded. For a few blissful moments, they lost themselves in the comfort and promise of each other.
The sound of clapping brought them to their senses. A crowd of mostly grinning faces gathered in the now-open doorway.
“It is a good thing you marry on Monday,” Richard said.
Miss Kitty slapped at Miss Mary’s hands, which were blocking her view. “We should not look,” Miss Mary said, although her actions attempted to protect her sister’s eyes rather than her own.
Miss Bennet swayed in front of Richard, her hands over her heart. “I knew you were a love match all along.”
A love match. Darcy preferred that over a compromise and forced marriage. In that moment, he made a choice of his own—nay, a vow befitting a Darcy: he would court Elizabeth every day of the rest of their lives.