Page 43 of Cads & Capers

CHAPTER TWENTY

It had been agreed, before Darcy left for the gallery, that Fitzwilliam and Georgiana would be conveyed back to Darcy House in Rutherford’s carriage. He was not surprised, therefore, when his butler informed him upon returning home that both were waiting for him in the drawing room. He knew they would be anxious for him and was sorry to have kept them waiting this long, but he hoped his news would be more than adequate compensation.

He felt a palpable surge of exhilaration at the prospect of telling them. Saying it aloud, being congratulated for it, must, after all, make it real. After such a long time despairing of a joyous outcome, Darcy had suffered more than one moment of doubt on the journey home. He had taken to rolling the hair pin in his pocket between his thumb and forefinger to assure himself that he had not fallen and hit his head on the way to the gallery and dreamt the whole scenario—that he truly was engaged to Elizabeth.

A better piece of evidence he could not have wished for, obtained as it was in the transcendent moment that he finally took Elizabeth in his arms. Their union had been a long time coming, and though brief by necessity, their kiss had been unguardedly and magnificently passionate as a result. When Darcy guiltily plucked the loosened pin from Elizabeth’s hair and held it up for her to take, she had told him to keep it. He had not cavilled. He was considering having it framed.

He made his way to the drawing room and entered to discover Fitzwilliam and Georgiana sitting in silence. His entrance startled them both, but once they had seen him, neither seemed willing to speak first. They watched him without saying a word as he walked to the sideboard. He turned his back on them to pour a drink, smiling to himself as he did. Were he of a disposition in which happiness overflowed in mirth, he might have made a greater show of his announcement, but his happiness was a more contained, intense business. He felt abuzz with it, as though if someone were to poke him, they might receive a shock from all the elation coiled inside him. His glass filled, he sauntered over to lean against the mantel. His sister and cousin glanced at each other nervously; he pretended not to notice.

Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “Did you, um…did you manage to speak to her?”

“I did.”

“And?”

He took a sip of his drink and savoured the feel of its gentle burn as he swallowed. His first toast to the certain bliss he had just secured for himself. “She is engaged.”

Fitzwilliam swore quietly.

“But did you tell her about Mr Knowles?” Georgiana asked. “Does she know he is not to be trusted?”

Darcy nodded. “I told her.”

“And still she means to marry him?”

“Oh, no.” He smiled broadly—because he could not refrain from doing so a moment longer. “She means to marry me.”

Darcy’s disposition might have prevented him from wild celebration, but Fitzwilliam’s most certainly did not. His congratulations, likely fuelled by the quantity of wine he had drunk that evening, were instantaneous and intemperate.

“Thank the Sovereign’s holy orbs for that!” He leapt from his chair and slapped Darcy on the shoulder, hard. Then, apparently of the opinion that this was not celebration enough, grabbed both his upper arms and gave him a quick, sharp shake, crowing in his face. Then he let go and marched to the sideboard to pour himself and Georgiana a drink, rambling further, vaguely inappropriate felicitations as he went.

More sedately, Georgiana rose from her seat and came to Darcy, holding her hands out for his. “You brute!” she said laughingly. “We have been in agony waiting for news! You have been so wretched this year, I knew not how we might comfort you if things did not go your way.” Her fond gaze and happy tone belied her stern words, and she surprised him completely by leaning forwards to kiss him on the cheek. “I could not be happier for you, Brother. Nor could I have wished for a better or a kinder sister.”

Fitzwilliam arrived with two more glasses and gave one to Georgiana. “A toast! To Darcy and Elizabeth! Together at last!”

Darcy raised his glass with them, though he was too affected to say a great deal. He had never wanted anything as fiercely as he had wanted to make Elizabeth his wife, but he had not realised how dearly his relations wished it for him, also. Their heartfelt rejoicing was deeply touching and made Elizabeth’s affection every moment more valuable.

“I hope your evening was not completely ruined by my sudden departure,” he said to his sister.

“Not at all,” she assured him. “Lord Rutherford was excessively concerned for you.”

“Nevertheless, it was ill done. I shall send him a note tomorrow. I would not want him to be put off by your brother’s ill manners.”

Georgiana ducked her head coyly. “Thank you—although I am sure nobody thought you were ill-mannered.”

“Lady Tuppence did,” Fitzwilliam remarked. “But do not concern yourself—I believe she thought it made you more interesting.”

Darcy would not ordinarily have concerned himself in the slightest with the opinion of someone so wholly unconnected to him, but he thought he could see something in his cousin’s expression that suggested Lady Tuppence might not remain unconnected to him for very long. “Since I should not like her to tire of my company, I shall endeavour to continue being ill-tempered for as long as she knows me.”

“I do not think Elizabeth will allow that,” Georgiana replied with a knowing smile.

Fitzwilliam toasted again to that, and Darcy was subjected to a bout of teasing on the subject of Elizabeth’s power over him, to which he had no objection whatsoever. He also did not regret that they parted company shortly afterwards; he was prodigiously grateful to them both for their encouragement, but there was too much to be thought and felt about all that had happened to be in company much longer.

“I am truly delighted for you, old boy,” Fitzwilliam said as he donned his coat to leave. “I look forward to meeting her again. When are we calling on her?”

“ I shall be calling on her in the morning but?—”

“Excellent! I shall be back here at eleven.”

“I shall not be taking anyone with me.”

“Of course you will. You need me.”

“I assure you I do not.”

“And I assure you that you do. How else will you get her on her own? I shall come and suggest a walk, then discourage everyone but her sister from coming. And while I am filling Miss Catherine’s head with praise for Mulhall, you and Elizabeth can find yourselves a bit of shrubbery to get lost behind.”

Darcy was on the cusp of condemning Fitzwilliam’s crude insinuation, when a memory of Elizabeth’s sweet embrace earlier that evening persuaded him against it. He nodded. “You may come.”

“Thought so!” Fitzwilliam said with a wink.

He winked again the next day, over his shoulder, from where he walked ahead with Elizabeth’s sister.

“It is delightful to see your cousin again,” Elizabeth said. She had her arm looped through Darcy’s, and every now and again, she rested her head on his shoulder to emphasise whatever sentiment she was expressing.

Darcy was in seventh heaven.

“Georgiana is impatient to see you, also, but I am a very selfish creature, and I was not prepared to share you today.”

Elizabeth looked up at him, her bottom lip caught guiltily between her teeth. “I am all anticipation of making myself the best sister she could hope for, but it is just as well she did not come today, for I am sure this path is not wide enough to admit three.”

The path could have fitted two barouches abreast of each other. Darcy smiled and squeezed his arm to his side, pressing her hand against his ribs with it. “I have missed you more than I can put into words.”

“You do not need to put it into words. I understand completely, for I have endured the same misery.”

“I am sorry I did not come back. I wanted to. If you only knew how many times I have almost ridden to Longbourn just to see your face!”

“Why did you not?”

Darcy directed Elizabeth off the main path towards a more isolated one. “Lady Catherine lied to me. When she relayed her conversation with you, she painted a very different story to the one you told Lady Tuppence, and which I heard last night. I knew my aunt was angry, but I still thought her visit to you must present the very worst of her behaviour. I did not believe her capable of such malicious deceit, and so I did not question her report.”

“Lady Tuppence has been of infinite use, despite her best efforts to invent an argument between us. But how on earth did you learn of my meeting with her cousin in the first place?”

Darcy was then obliged to explain his unpardonable eavesdropping. He could easily perceive that Elizabeth was amused by his absurd lunge behind the pillar but loved her all the more upon seeing her check her laugh. It was his turn to be amused when she admitted to having made precisely the same leap for cover upon seeing Georgiana in the same seat the next day.

“I ought never to have tried to interfere,” Darcy said. “I like to think I had learnt my lesson in that regard, but when I thought you were in danger, I could not stand by and do nothing.”

“We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to this week’s mayhem. Your meddling may have set the ball rolling, but my schemes embroiled everybody from your sister to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s batman in the fray.”

“Perhaps, though I do not think there will be many complaints. Georgiana and Rutherford have got off to a famous beginning, and if I am not greatly mistaken, Fitzwilliam is already half in love with Lady Tuppence.”

“’Tis a truly fortunate ending, in that case, for my sister has quite determinedly set her cap at Sergeant Mulhall as well.” She smiled at him affectionately. “None of them will be as blissfully happy as we will, of course, but they will make do, I am sure.”

“Nobody could ever be as happy as I am, Elizabeth. Not even you.”

“Do not be too sure. I have not told my mother yet.”

Darcy chuckled, revelling in being able to enjoy Elizabeth’s wit once more. He slowed their pace, for they had reached the most sheltered part of the path. “Your aunt and uncle seemed happy with our news.”

“Oh, they are—so very happy! They were convinced, when you helped Lydia, that you had done it for me. They were almost as disappointed as I was when you did not come back for me.”

“They were right, I thought only of you.” He stopped walking and tugged her gently to face him. With his thumb, he traced her cheekbone and jaw. “I have thought only of you for a very long time, dearest, loveliest Elizbeth.”

When he bent to kiss her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he responded heatedly, pulling her tightly against himself. She was warm and supple in his embrace, and she fitted herself against him as though they had been made for each other. He was loath to let her go.

“Do not make me wait long to marry you, Elizabeth. What say I apply for a special licence? We could marry tomorrow.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and encouraged him with a nudge to start walking again. “Do you know many bishops?”

“My uncle does.”

“Do not be absurd. I have no more desire to delay than you, but a common licence will do.”

“But if we had a special licence, we could marry in the British Institution.” He was not serious, but her vehement response nevertheless took him aback.

“Absolutely not!” she cried. “I am sick to the back teeth of that place. A church ceremony will do perfectly well.”

Darcy gave a small grunt. “Very well.” After a moment, he added, “I bought the couch, though.”

She looked askance at him, then laughed lightly. “What?”

“The exhibition is closed now—last night was the final showing. I sent an enquiry this morning and received a quote by return. It is all settled. The couch on which we were reunited will be delivered to Darcy House tomorrow. I thought it might make a poignant engagement present.”

“And so it will!” she agreed, resting her head on his shoulder in another show of sweet affection. “We shall be able to finish what we started on it.”

Darcy turned to regard her in astonishment, and it was evidently enough to make her realise what she had implied, for a deep blush overspread her cheeks and she stammered, “Not that! I meant our marriage!”

Conscious of not embarrassing her further, Darcy turned his gaze back to the path, trying prodigiously hard not to smirk. When they had gone a few yards along the path, he could not resist adding, “After all that, it turns out you are a cad, as well.” He smiled to hear her mortified groan. “It is well, though.” He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on the backs of her fingers. “You are my cad, and I love you, too.”

The End