Page 17 of An Offer of Marriage (Engaged to Mr Darcy #7)
BORROWING TROUBLE
“ D o you think he will call, Lizzy?” Jane enquired nervously as Mrs Gardiner’s maid did her hair. It was not their custom to trouble Miss Norris, but in the event that Mr Bingley arrived, Jane had wished to look her best.
It was perhaps the tenth time that Jane had asked Elizabeth, but nevertheless, Elizabeth patiently replied, “Of course he will, dearest. It is a sure thing.”
“Pray do not leave me this morning,” Jane urged. “Promise me you will not go on some endless ramble through Cheapside.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am at your disposal all the day long!”
Happily, Jane’s agonies were not prolonged.
Mr Bingley arrived quite early in the morning—almost too early—and brought a posey with him that suggested he had bought out the flower market.
It was so large that when he handed it to Jane, half of it dropped away.
Jane exclaimed, “Oh!” and bent to retrieve what bits fell at the same time Mr Bingley did.
They hit their heads together with an audible thud and rose without retrieving the flowers.
“Good lord!” Mr Bingley exclaimed. “I have injured you!”
“No, sir, I am not injured,” said Jane with a laugh, then watched while he bent to get the rest of the flowers and present them to her with a dreamy-eyed stare.
He was clearly already lost in her. At that moment, Elizabeth knew how it would be.
Surely it would be now an easy course to the happiest and best conclusion.
It will not do to have them at Netherfield. I must ask Darcy if he knows of any situation nearer to Pemberley.
The thought arrived in her mind with so little provocation that it was shocking. When had she begun envisioning herself at Pemberley? Was she truly going through with this? Would she marry Darcy?
Remembrances of the night prior came back to her. If her life with him would be as pleasant as dinner had been, she could have no cause to repine. Darcy was…so charming, and his home was so very welcoming. Even his very elevated family had been kind.
His kiss, the kiss in the lower hall, had been less of a surprise to her than the first, but the feelings it ignited were no less intense for it. It was confusing; it was mere days since he had proposed, but her feelings were changing quickly. Altered…into what?
She had ample time to contemplate it. Her aunt had conscripted her to chaperon Mr Bingley and Jane.
Elizabeth, after a short time spent pretending to be a part of their conversation, nonchalantly moved to a chair at the far end of the room.
There was some sewing, her aunt’s, nearby and she took it up and began stitching and assiduously ignoring the other two who appeared increasingly pleased by one another’s company.
I suppose , Elizabeth thought, that I ought to write to my mother.
She had already sent one letter, the day of their return to London, but had said merely that some confusion in Kent had led to an earlier departure than planned and that Mr Darcy and his cousin had escorted herself and Maria to town.
But, if she wrote to her now and made mention of an engagement to Mr Darcy, the matter would be settled. She would be engaged.
But if she did not write to her mother and Lady Lucas heard news of it from Charlotte…her mother would be infuriated and rightly so. I could say it was part of the confusion , she decided. Say there was a misunderstanding without clarifying what the nature of the misunderstanding was.
But is there really any doubt at this time? Do I even still wish to end the engagement?
She tried to imagine the feelings she might have if she did break it off.
She envisioned herself sitting in this very room, watching Mr Bingley make love to Jane, and knowing what she had given up.
She imagined what it would be like to never see Darcy again, to never feel his eyes upon her… to never feel his lips kissing hers.
Startled, she realised she had stopped sewing and was sitting in what probably looked like a trance with her fingers touching her own lips. Happily the other two had not noticed her lapse.
It seems I am going to marry Darcy , she thought with undeniable happiness.
It was not a surprise to arrive in Gracechurch Street on the day after his dinner party to find Bingley had preceded him there.
He cast Georgiana a knowing look upon their entry into the drawing room where Bingley and Jane sat in a cosy tête-à-tête while Elizabeth sat with some sewing in the far corner.
The visit was excessively pleasant. Mrs Gardiner came to join them and brought her youngest child, a cherubic lad called Henry. Henry toddled about the place smiling at the ladies; Georgiana in particular was delighted by him.
“He has always been a very good-natured boy,” said Mrs Gardiner fondly, her maternal pride in plain view. “Sleeps and eats just as he ought to. The nurse says she almost forgets he is there half the time, so well does he content himself. Had they all been like this, I might wish for ten!”
Polite laughter went round the room. Elizabeth gave Darcy a smile and said, “I used to tease Jane that I would end an old maid and teach her ten children to play their instruments very ill.”
He chuckled. “Well, now you will need to teach our ten children to play their instruments, although I do not think you give yourself enough credit for your capabilities.”
She laughed, but to Darcy’s ear it had an uneasy sound.
No surprise, that; any woman who had ten children could only have begat them with a great deal of travail, and an enormous risk with her own life.
To reassure her, he said, lightly, “For myself, I should be quite content with two or three. Not enough for an orchestra, ’tis true, but enough to make Pemberley lively again. ”
“I cannot wait for a niece or nephew to put on my knee.” Georgiana leant forwards. “Pemberley is beautiful and elegant and I love it better than any place in the world, but it is decidedly too quiet. ”
“Save for when Georgiana takes it on herself to play and sing. Then the halls are filled with such a screeching and howling?—”
Elizabeth’s laugh interrupted his words; Georgiana only looked shocked. To his sister, Elizabeth said, “I have heard enough of your excellence as a musician to know your brother speaks in jest.”
Georgiana smiled and looked down. “Saye often teases me when I play, asking if there are cats fighting somewhere, but my brother has never done so before.”
Elizabeth placed a hand on Georgiana’s. “You may console yourself in knowing that if you were truly inept, no one would dare say a word.”
“That is very true,” Darcy agreed, and Georgiana appeared relieved.
Before departing, Darcy proposed a night at the theatre the next evening, suspecting Elizabeth would enjoy it; indeed she received the news with alacrity, eyes wide and countenance bright as Mrs Gardiner accepted the invitation for them all.
It proved a delightful evening. How good the performance was, he could not have said, for his eyes rarely moved to the stage.
Elizabeth had arrived looking as beautiful as she ever had, in a gown of rich, deep mulberry.
It was not a colour he had seen her wear before, but it suited her very, very well, igniting highlights of the same in her dark hair and eyes.
Jane, too, looked very lovely, and on the rare instance that he cast a look at Bingley, his friend appeared as smitten as he himself felt.
They attracted attention. Of course there had been talk, already, about Darcy falling in love with a country girl whom no one knew.
The stop they had made in Bromley, on the journey from Kent to London, had begun it; this evening in Society would prove to the gossips that it was a sure thing.
His attachment to her was unhidden, nor would he wish to hide it.
He was in love and could not have cared less for the whole world to know it.
Nay—he wanted the whole world to know of it.
Along with this sense of happiness, however, came a prickle of disquietude. He knew not if it was inherent in his nature to be pessimistic or if the events in his life had taught it to him, but unguarded felicity had too often portended disaster.
The last time that he had felt this sense of optimism, the feeling that every good thing was on the horizon, was during his last months at university.
George Wickham appeared to be well in hand, his degree was nearly complete, and plans for a Grand Tour were underway.
Following the tour would be months and years spent enjoying all the things that a young man was meant to enjoy and—far distant from that—finding a lady to share his life and falling in love with her.
There was nothing to dread or fear, only great anticipation of life’s pleasures.
And then his father died, and everything came to a halt.
His father had taken to drinking heavily since Darcy’s mother’s death, and it had weakened his constitution.
One fever was all it took; he died too quickly even for Darcy to travel to Pemberley and see him one last time.
All too quickly, Darcy was thrown from the world of youthful pleasure into the domain of obligation and responsibility.
It was several years before he felt he could rightly absent himself from Pemberley and Georgiana to enjoy a Season.
He had gone to some parties in ’10 but quickly returned to Derbyshire for a problem with the spring plantings; in ’11 he had tried again and found it uncommonly enjoyable.
At last he had felt he could truly put aside his cares and enjoy some diversion.
Wickham had not plagued him for some time, Fitzwilliam was in London on a six-month leave, and Saye was planning an autumn house party. All was right and tight.
Then came the strange letter from Georgiana that provoked him to go thither…and to find her on the brink of an elopement with none other than his friend turned worst enemy.
Was it any wonder that optimism sat on him like an ill-fitted coat? His life had a tendency to lurch off course the very moment when felicity came into view.
But surely not this time. No matter what came, he had a woman he loved by his side. What more could any man ask for?
For her to love you in return.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, causing Elizabeth to glance over at him and give him a smile. What does she feel for me?
His feelings were not unknown to her , to be sure. From the first, he had openly declared to her his ardent love and admiration. But she had not yet given voice to her own feelings. He resisted the urge to squirm again, feeling not the discomfort of a hard chair but rather hard truths.
Should I ask her? The notion was absurd. She was here, she behaved lovingly towards him, and the last days had been nothing short of sublime… Why create a problem where there was none?
It will come , he reassured himself. She wants only for time.