Page 22 of Disarmed

D arcy rode down the high street of Meryton, nodding at those he passed and even offering smiles and tips of his hat. He felt lighter than he had in years, if ever. The past few days had been the happiest of his life.

When Elizabeth had finally joined them in the drawing room on Tuesday, accompanied by a grinning Miss Lydia, her usual spirits had quickly returned. Mrs Bennet had already tired of talk of Wickham and was back to her favourite subject—her eldest daughter’s forthcoming wedding to Bingley.

With her mother and sisters amply entertained, he had managed to secure her for a private conversation, and they had talked of travel, of history, of literature, and of poetry.

He had been so enchanted by her curiosity, so dazzled by her intelligence that he was certain he had grinned like a fool throughout the discussion—and she had smiled back.

When she had asked him whether he intended to return to London soon, gazing at him with a slight anxiousness about her features, he had made an uncharacteristically impetuous decision and announced that not only would he remain in Hertfordshire until the new year, but he would also invite his sister and her companion to join him.

He thanked the Lord that Bingley was such an easy-going fellow that he did not even flinch at suddenly gaining several uninvited guests for Christmas.

When he and Bingley finally left Longbourn, he had lingered over Elizabeth’s hand for a moment and asked whether he might call on her the next day, and the smile, blush, and eager nod he received in return had set his heart racing so fast he had feared it might leap from his chest.

The following day they had walked and talked for two hours, and she had not seemed to mind at all the giggling and whispers from her accompanying younger sisters.

When there had been an opportune moment, Miss Lydia had given him an audacious wink, and he had been able to do nothing but grin at her stupidly.

Thursday morning had brought not only a letter from Georgiana eagerly accepting his invitation to join him in Hertfordshire but also welcome news from Meryton: George Wickham had been flogged for his behaviour and transferred to a northern regiment, effective immediately.

He would already be on his way to Newcastle.

Whilst that did not necessarily mean Darcy would be rid of the man forever, it at least enabled him to introduce his sister to the area without fear of meeting the man and to carry on his courtship of Elizabeth without unwelcome interference.

He pulled his watch from his pocket and consulted the time.

It was still a little early for a call at Longbourn, but Elizabeth was an early riser, and perhaps he would catch her out for a walk at this hour.

With that thought in mind, he turned off the road and onto the path he had been traversing on the day he had been caught in the rain and encountered Miss Lydia.

Glimpsing the uninhabited cottage through the trees, and seeing no sign of Elizabeth on the path ahead, he turned from the track and approached the dilapidated building, memories of his last visit assailing him.

As he moved closer, he swore he heard voices, and his suspicions were confirmed when a bark of female laughter reached his ears that sounded ominously like that of Miss Lydia Bennet.

Uttering a curse under his breath, he leapt from his horse, slung the reins over an obliging post, and strode into the house.

The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by the scraping of chairs on the stone floor, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light within, he recognised the figures of not only Miss Lydia but also Elizabeth, regarding him with wide eyes.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he bowed and greeted them formally, looking from one to the other as he strove to understand their presence there.

Elizabeth was the one to rescue him from his confusion. “Good morning, Mr Darcy,” she said with a pert smile on her lips. “What a coincidence to see you here. My sister was just telling me of your last visit.”

Heat crept into his cheeks, and he glanced at Miss Lydia—she was faring no better.

“I am unsure whether to thank you for your intervention or to scold you for not informing me yourself.”

Darcy stared at the floor, attempting to form a reply, but when he raised his eyes again, he noticed the sparkle in hers. She was teasing him!

Miss Lydia came to his rescue. “Oh come, Lizzy, it is all to be forgot. No harm has been done, except to Mr Wickham, of course, and he thoroughly deserved it.”

Elizabeth cast a glare in her sister’s direction, but Miss Lydia’s smile did not dim.

Instead, she pulled her sister forwards and grasped Darcy’s arm, turning him around and leading them both back out into the watery December sunlight.

“Mr Darcy has come to take us home, have you not? It must be time for breakfast. I am so hungry!”

Leaving them both staring after her in bewildered amusement, she further surprised Darcy by taking the reins of his mount from around the post. “I shall lead your horse, Mr Darcy, and you can accompany Lizzy!”

With that, she skipped off through the trees, his horse following her obediently.

“Do not worry, sir. Whilst Lydia has not the patience for riding, she is very fond of animals. He is in good hands.”

“I do not doubt it,” Darcy replied. “I dare say my horse is as ineffectual as me in gainsaying her.”

Elizabeth answered with a musical laugh, and offering her his arm, they strode off in the direction of Longbourn, Miss Lydia and her charge visible in the distance.

“I do not know whether to be angry with Lydia for her actions or proud of her for learning from her mistakes,” Elizabeth said as the garden wall of Longbourn appeared through the trees.

Darcy took a moment to choose his words carefully.

“If you will pardon my saying so, I think what Miss Lydia seeks is assurance of her father’s affection.

As much as I respect Mr Bennet, I believe he has not afforded her the attention she longs for.

Her behaviour seems to me to be that of a young lady eager to be noticed.

Even if that notice comes in the form of remonstrance, it would still be, to her mind, a sign of his care. ”

Elizabeth sighed. “I fear you are correct, Mr Darcy. As much as I love my father, I am not blind to his faults. It is no wonder Lydia wishes for a brother so keenly.”

“Then she will soon get her wish. I have no doubt Bingley will make an excellent brother to all your sisters.”

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, then she looked up at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. “As fond as we all are of Mr Bingley, I believe it was a very different man Lydia had in mind for the position,” she said.

Darcy’s heart leapt. He held her eyes as they walked up to the side gate.

Releasing her arm he opened it and gestured for her to precede him before following her through and closing it again firmly.

Then he turned to her and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

They were achingly close. He could feel her heat, detect the scent of lavender in her hair.

He raised her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, delighted by the smile and the soft blush it brought to her cheeks.

He took up her other hand, too, and they stood there for a moment, searching each other’s faces.

His heart was hammering. “Miss Elizabeth…Elizabeth. Will you do me the great honour of allowing me to be brother to Miss Lydia by accepting my hand in marriage? Not for her sake but for mine. I have been enchanted by you since I uttered that abominable falsehood at the Meryton assembly, and since then I have come to love you most ardently for your wit, your intelligence, your incomparable beauty, and your unerring kindness towards others. There is nothing I desire more than to be your husband and to take care of you, and your family, for the rest of my days.”

Elizabeth gasped, her small smile widening into a grin and then a tinkling laugh. “Yes,” she whispered. Then, “Yes,” she repeated more firmly. “I would love nothing better than to secure such a brother for my beloved sisters, and such a husband for myself, of course.”

Darcy stood still for a moment, staring at her almost in disbelief before joy swelled within him. He stepped closer, bringing their clasped hands to his heart. His gaze dropped to her lips—soft, pink, and smiling. “Elizabeth…” he whispered as he tilted his head towards hers.

From around the corner came a whoop of delight.

In a flurry of skirts, Miss Lydia appeared from behind the hedge, running towards them and hurling herself first at Elizabeth, then at Darcy, who had sprung apart in surprise, kissing their cheeks and exclaiming her joy.

“May I come and live with you at Pemberley?” she asked breathlessly.

Darcy looked about in concern. “I would be most delighted for you to spend as much time at Pemberley as you wish, should your father allow it, of course, but…Miss Lydia…where is my horse?”

Miss Lydia’s eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! Mr Hill’s vegetables!” Lifting her petticoats, she tore away across the lawn towards the kitchen garden.

Darcy turned to Elizabeth, his own joy and mirth reflected in her eyes and on her rosy cheeks.

Bringing a hand up to cup her face, he murmured, “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. In you, I have found all the pieces of myself I never knew were missing.” Then his lips finally met hers in a kiss that was sweeter than he could ever have imagined.