Page 13 of Blessed Interference (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
Rosings Park
Two Days Later
“I know the farmers were pleased by yesterday’s rains,” Elizabeth remarked, “but I missed our walk.”
“I missed you,” Darcy said and was pleased when his beloved flushed and said, “I missed you as well, Mr. Darcy.”
“What shall we talk of today?” Darcy asked.
“Please tell me about the library at Pemberley,” Elizabeth requested.
***
Rosings Park
The Next Day
“I find Romeo and Juliet peculiar and annoying,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Juliet was but thirteen years of age, which is far too young, and that stupid priest had no business marrying them at all!”
Darcy regarded her in awe. If he had asked one hundred ladies about their views of Romeo and Juliet, ninety-nine would gush about the power of the play, and the romance, and the tragedy. But no, Miss Bennet focused her attention on the plot and its inherent problems.
“I suppose,” she continued thoughtfully, “that from Shakespeare’s point of view, Juliet was not too young. Henry VII’s mother gave birth to him at the tender age of thirteen. She was hardly more than a child, and it is startling that both she and her son survived.”
“Indeed,” Darcy mused. “I understand duty very well, but to marry so young a lady to a man nearly twice her age seems obviously unwise.”
“That at least appears to be changing through the centuries,” his companion remarked. “Princess Charlotte is sixteen and still unwed, after all…”
***
Sitting Room
Parsonage
Four Days Later
Elizabeth closed her book, which she had not truly been reading, and turned a courteous face toward her friends.
“I am strangely tired tonight,” she announced, “and will retire to my bed.”
Charlotte, who had been chatting in a desultory way with her sister, Maria, smiled and said, “Good night, Elizabeth. I will send Anna up.”
“Good night,” she replied, “and thank you.”
She made her quiet way to the stairwell that led to the bedchambers upstairs. Mr. Collins was in his book room, either toiling away on a sermon or perhaps napping, but she had no desire to converse with the parson, as he was always annoying in some respect or another.
She relaxed when she reached her chamber, and in less than five minutes, Anna joined her. The maid helped her out of her evening attire and into her nightclothes, and folded back her sheets, and stirred up the fire, and then said softly, “Do you need me to carry a message to Rosings, Miss Bennet?”
“I do,” Elizabeth said, sitting down at the small desk in the corner. “I will just write a quick note.”
She did so and handed it over and said, “I am incredibly grateful for your assistance, Anna.”
“’Tis my pleasure, Miss Bennet,” Anna said with a brisk nod and departed on soft feet. Elizabeth watched her pull the door shut and then rolled into bed and pulled the sheet over her. While the days were lovely, the nights were still cool, and she relished both the fire and the blankets.
Elizabeth had not been dishonest with her friends; she was tired, but sleep was far from her yet.
Her mind and, yes, even her heart were in turmoil.
In but a few days, she would be departing Kent and returning to Longbourn, leaving behind Mr. Darcy.
Odd, that the very thought of that made her feel so desolate, as though she were about to weep.
Elizabeth prided herself on her emotional control. Always she had been mistress of her own mind, and it was time to exert some of that hard-earned control as she considered the matter of her courtship with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth rolled onto her back, thinking carefully.
In the novels that Kitty and Lydia liked to borrow from the lending library in Meryton, the heroine was often torn between her heart and her intellect, falling in love with a great rake or some other equally unsuitable gentleman.
Depending on the novel, this tension could be resolved in a number of different ways, but Elizabeth rarely found them satisfying.
She was immensely grateful that her own situation bore no resemblance to those literary depictions.
Her suitor was a man of honor, uncommon kindness, generosity, and intelligence.
Her heart urged her to accept his suit, and her mind likewise recognized that she was not likely to find a man of greater moral fiber and kindly disposition, not to mention quite handsome in face and figure.
She thought again of poor Susannah and of Mr. Darcy's decisive action against the vile Lieutenant Wickham, even with the threat leveled against his beloved young sister's reputation.
Mr. Darcy was a man of honor, and integrity, and honesty.
Elizabeth remembered his promise to love her, and to nurture and protect her, and to cherish her family as his own.
She solemnly considered her own parents.
Her father preferred to poke fun at his hysterical wife rather than set aside any funds for her care in the event of his death, and her mother, who viewed her husband without an ounce of respect, and whose only thought for the future was one of dread that she and her daughters would be destitute, but despite this, continued to spend lavishly.
It was a bleak picture of marriage that the Bennet progenitors painted, and a stark contrast that Mr. Darcy offered her. Elizabeth wondered for a dreamy moment what it must be like to be treasured.
That reality could be hers if she accepted his hand.
Oh yes, she should like to accept his offer.
The only question was, how could she suggest he might put his question to her again without being unseemly?
It was very much in his favor that he was not pressing her to decide – truly he was in possession of the manners of a gentleman – but it had become rather inconvenient.
It was an interesting conundrum to mull over, and truly, an enjoyable one.
As so often happens when one is contemplating a pleasant subject, Elizabeth soon drifted off to sleep.
***
Rosings Park
The Next Morning
A soft breeze played with the leaves of the cloistering trees, whispering along the reeds of a charming little fish pond and sending ripples scudding across the surface of the glass-clear water.
Glints of orange darted beneath the water, as goldfish rose from hiding places in hope of bread from the hands of the two people standing at the pond's edge.
It was a beautiful spot, delightfully private, and in any other circumstances, with any other company, Elizabeth would have been wholly enchanted.
In these circumstances and in this company, Elizabeth's mind was entirely consumed by her companion.
She stole a sidelong glance at Mr. Darcy's shapely profile.
He stood gazing pensively out across the pond, the wind just ruffling the dark hair peeking from beneath his hat.
Elizabeth looked at the water, bit her lip, and steeled herself. She took a deep breath and turned to face her suitor, feeling unaccountably shy.
“Mr. Darcy?” she said
He also turned to face her, and his eyes were gentle. “Yes?”
She swallowed and straightened her back. “Do you …” She stopped, cleared her throat and resolutely started once more, “Do you still wish to marry me?”
Hope lit up those dark eyes, hope and yearning. “I do, with all my heart.”
“I have realized that I love you,” she said simply, “and I accept your offer of marriage.”
Now his eyes were glowing with ecstasy, and he reached out to take her slim fingers in his own. He raised those hands to his mouth, kissed them fervently, and said, “Thank you, Miss … thank you, Elizabeth. You have made me the happiest of men!”
***
Their Favorite Place
Rosings Park
Three Days Later
“I will miss you,” Elizabeth said simply.
Darcy looked down into the lovely face of his betrothed and said, “I will miss you as well, but it will not be for long. After I speak to my aunt tomorrow, I will ride for Longbourn and ask for your father’s blessing.
I sent an express to Bingley, and he informs me that he and his wife will be pleased to host me for as long as I wish.
I know you will be spending a day or two in London with your Gardiner relations, but if all goes well, we will meet again in Hertfordshire within the week. ”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “I will pray your aunt behaves in a moderately rational way, though frankly I believe that may be beyond her capacity.”
“She will not,” he agreed with a sigh, “and if it were not for Anne, I would refrain from telling Lady Catherine anything until after our wedding. But while Lady Catherine is dictatorial and absurd, Anne is not, and I feel an obligation to tell her in person that the fictional engagement between us is truly and finally at an end.”
“That is reasonable. You are a good man, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth replied, and rose up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.
He returned the kiss with fervor, and when they had parted, both were a trifle flushed.
“We should marry soon, I think,” Elizabeth said with a grin.
“I agree entirely!”
***
Dining Room
Rosings
Two Days Later
Dinner Time
“It is foolish of you to not stay longer, Darcy,” Lady Catherine said in her usual authoritative tone. “You have only been here a few weeks, and I expected you to stay a full month! I do not see why you wish to return to London anyway, when Kent is so delightful this time of year!”
Darcy carefully wiped his mouth with his handkerchief and cast an anxious look at his cousin Anne, who had, as usual, been silent throughout the meal.
“Lady Catherine, Anne,” he said formally. “I will be leaving tomorrow, but I will be riding to Hertfordshire, to Longbourn, the home of the Bennet family.”
He was watching Anne, and to his considerable surprise, the lady sat up straight and smiled at him, nodding her encouragement for him to continue.
“Longbourn?” Lady Catherine demanded. “What on earth are you talking about, Darcy? Why would you go to Longbourn?”
“Because,” Darcy replied, turning to face his aunt directly, “two days ago I asked for Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s hand in marriage, and she accepted, and tomorrow I need to ask for her father’s blessing.”
Silence felt for a full ten seconds, as Lady Catherine’s face proceeded to turn bright red, and her bosom heaved repeatedly. Then, she erupted.
“No! No! Darcy, you are engaged to Anne! Have you gone mad! You absolutely cannot…”
There was movement in the corner of Darcy’s eye, and he glanced over to observe Richard guiding Anne out of the room, with Mrs. Jenkinson in their wake.
There was a broad smile on Anne’s face, and Darcy relaxed.
Obviously, his cousin was pleased as opposed to distressed, and he did not care in the least what Lady Catherine thought.
Let her bluster. Beyond hope, he had captured the heart of Elizabeth Bennet, the most wonderful of all women, and his spirits and his resolve would not be swayed.