Page 18 of Epiphany (A Little Bit More Darcy and Elizabeth #2)

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W ere it not for Jane’s sake that Elizabeth withheld her news, it would have been to her eldest sister she ran first. It felt strange keeping such momentous intelligence from her and stranger still to be engaged at all. Elizabeth could not help but think that an alteration of such magnitude ought to produce a more noticeable difference, but her reflection looked the same in the mirror, and though she felt positively incandescent on the inside, none of her sisters seemed to perceive anything different in her.

That everything would alter was indisputable, however. Consideration of what privileges and responsibilities might belong to the wife of Mr Darcy occupied Elizabeth’s thoughts for the rest of the day, though it was only in the privacy of her bath that evening that she allowed herself to dwell on the way he had kissed her. The astonishing, enlightening, sublime way he had kissed her, the remembrance of which led her to reflect on what else Mr Darcy would wish to do to her once she was his wife and whether it would be equally sublime.

She was forced to sink beneath the water to conceal her furious blush from the maid. It might have been better not to do so whilst laughing at her own lovesick distraction, for she almost drowned on a lungful of soapy water.

* * *

It rained overnight, melting the snow enough to permit visiting at last. Most of the Netherfield party, sans only Mrs Annesley and Mrs Jenkinson, had joined all five Bennet sisters in braving a walk in the rather sodden lanes around Longbourn, though Elizabeth and Darcy were doing their best to outpace all the others.

“It is a miracle I have not been discovered. I am too happy to concentrate on anything. I keep dropping things and laughing at odd moments,” Elizabeth told him. It delighted her to see how well this pleased him, his smile momentarily too broad to allow any response.

“Whereas I have been reproached for being even more ill-tempered than usual, though I hope I shall be forgiven once everybody learns it was only impatience to see you that made me so. I would have come back through the snow yesterday afternoon, had you not sworn me to secrecy.”

“Yes, that might have raised a few suspicions.” She indicated a fork in the lane along which she was certain the others would not follow. “You are very good to humour me.”

“I wonder why Bingley did not suggest walking himself. He was equally annoyed to be away from Longbourn.”

“Take pity. His legs are not as long as yours. Getting stuck in a drift might have seemed a far more plausible hazard to him than it did to you.”

“Perhaps. But at least if he had got stuck and died of pneumonia, I would no longer have to wait for him.”

Elizabeth espied a pheasant feather poking out of a bank of half-melted, muddied snow, which was fortunate timing, for her crouching to pick it up enabled her to conceal a smirk. “It must be very frustrating that he is not behaving as you would like,” she said as she tucked it into her pocket. “He is usually far more obedient.”

Darcy frowned. “If you mean when we left in the autumn?—”

“I mean when he came back at Christmas after you wrote to him. That was exceedingly good of you. Though I wish you had told us on Christmas Day that you had done it. It would have cheered Jane immensely.”

“It was because of your sister I said nothing. I do not have such influence over Bingley that I could be certain my letter would bring him back, and I did not wish to raise her hopes.”

His modesty notwithstanding, Elizabeth was assured he possessed precisely that power, though since he had used it to such good purpose on that occasion, she would not tease him for it.

“Whatever has reunited them, they will be very happy together. But then, they are both of a disposition that makes discontent impossible. They were always assured of a happy marriage, whomever they wed.”

“Indeed,” Darcy replied absently. “Unlike me.”

Before Elizabeth could decide whether she ought to be offended, he continued in a more serious tone. “It is true that I never intended to marry Anne. But I have, all my life, believed I must marry a woman of fortune. I have been brought up to view wealth, consequence, and connexions as the only markers of a match worth consideration.” He cast her a wry glance. “Utter nonsense, of course, but it took a while for your lessons to sink in.”

“It is not entirely nonsense,” she replied, cautious, for she knew not to where his reflections tended. “There are few people who can afford such an imprudent marriage as the one upon which you are about to embark.”

“You misunderstand me, Elizabeth. That was not my meaning. You talk of Bingley being happy in his marriage, and I am sure he will be, but his happiness can never be as great as mine, precisely because it was always assured and therefore, less worth the earning.

“I have never depended upon securing the same for myself. It was not a notion that ever gave me any distress. I always hoped I would be able to respect my wife, but ever since I was old enough to comprehend that I must marry, I presumed the arrangement would be formed of necessity, an alliance designed to benefit Pemberley and my family as much as myself.”

He looked at her, his smile magnificent. “Never did I imagine I should love my wife as dearly as I love you. In truth, you make me feel such happiness when I am with you that everything I have previously done without you seems miserable in retrospect. Now, when I go home, I might choose to read a book in my library, as I have done a thousand times before, but with you reading yours next to me. I shall undoubtedly walk around the lake again, only this time arm in arm with you . If I sit quietly by the fire in my room, I shall enjoy the peace infinitely better than I ever have, for I shall have you in my arms. I shall continue to do all the things I have always done and more, only now I shall do them with you . I cannot express my anticipation to begin.”

Elizabeth stopped walking and waited for him to face her. “You expressed it better than you think.”

She had heard plenty of women boast of the parties and balls, jewels and gowns, houses and carriages their new husbands had promised to lavish upon them once they were wed. That Darcy spoke not of how he would embellish their marriage with trinkets but of how she would enrich his life merely by being in it proved what importance she was to him and made his affection every moment more valuable. She wished she could think of anything half so wonderful to say in return, but any eloquence she might ordinarily have claimed was presently lost beneath the powerful swell of warmth suffusing her entire person. She floundered briefly, but as she contemplated the man who would be her husband, her protector, her dearest friend, and her lover, the man presently regarding her as though she were the most precious creature in all the world, she found that words were easy to come by.

“I love you, Fitzwilliam.”

His eyes widened slightly and then, endearingly, he frowned a little, as though in disbelief. Both were forgot when he kissed her. She was not quite as surprised and marginally better informed than the previous time, but no less affected by his embrace, which was heavenly, by his lips on hers, which were divine, and by his devotion, so apparent in the carefulness of his caresses and the unmistakable strength of his restraint.

She had worried there would persist an awkwardness between them until time and familiarity could overcome it. She need not have been concerned. The intensity of her sentiments was increased by the rightness of them, making his arms feel the most natural place for her to be in all the world. His closeness no more embarrassed her than his stares ever had, and she would happily admit now that she savoured both. If he felt any discomfort, he was doing an admirable job of disguising it.

“Where did you learn my name?” Darcy whispered, still so close that his lips brushed against hers when he spoke.

“I cannot remember now. I only recall thinking how well it suited you. Do you mind me using it?”

He gave her a rather devilish, lopsided grin. “Did it seem as though I objected?”

She hiccupped a little laugh and shook her head.

He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, his smile fading as he exhaled. “On the subject of objections, I can go no further without mentioning to you that some of my relations may not be in favour of our marriage.”

“If Miss de Bourgh’s opinions are any indication of what the rest of your family will think, then we can safely assume none of them will approve,” she replied, disagreeably sobered.

Regrettably, though she preferred not to be judged on it, Elizabeth could not deny that the chasm between their stations in life did exist. It was a chasm that she sincerely doubted anyone related to an earl would be desirous of bridging.

“Some of them will approve very much,” Darcy insisted. “My sister particularly. And Anne is less opposed than you might expect. But there are others on whose support we cannot depend.”

“That is more likely to give you distress than me. I am exceedingly sorry that marrying me will bring discord between you and any of your family, but if you can bear it, then I most certainly can. They will not frighten me away, if that is what concerns you.”

He gave her an extraordinary look, a mixture of pride and ardour that did something quite delightful to his features. “My object in broaching the matter was to assure you of my protection and constancy in the face of any unpleasantness, but I shall not deny that it is a relief to hear you say as much.”

She reached for his hand and looked solemnly into his eyes. “And I hereby promise you the same protection.” She grinned at his puzzled frown. “From my mother when she discovers you are to be her son. There is guaranteed to be a spectacle.”

Oh, how she loved it when he laughed! It was always the most gratifying surprise.

“I have grown rather fond of your mother’s theatricals.” He tugged their joined hands so that she bumped gently into him, then he kissed her cheek. “I shall consider it a slight if she does not at least gasp when she hears the news.”

“I have no notion what she will do. I am dreading it. I am beginning to wonder whether this is the real reason I asked you to wait to announce anything—because I harbour a deep, unacknowledged hope that she will exhaust all her raptures on Jane and Mr Bingley and have none left with which to mortify us.”

He ran his thumb along her jaw. “I am as impervious to being frightened away as you, but if anything were to offend me, it would hardly be your mother’s enthusiasm for our marriage. It is my aunt’s resistance to it that will present the difficulty.”

“Lady Catherine?”

He nodded, and with a heavy sigh, set them back off along the path. “It seems that she, too, has long believed I seriously intended to marry her daughter, a misapprehension I bitterly regret not comprehending sooner, but the damage is done, and it cannot be helped.”

“I thought you said your cousin has decided against you anyway?”

“She has, but there was nothing to be gained by allowing my aunt to believe I would have married Anne even if she had desired it. Thus, she is furious with both of us.”

Elizabeth let out a little squawk when her feet slipped on a patch of ice. She might have regretted choosing this path, had she not so gratifyingly benefited from its superior privacy already. She regretted it even less when Darcy took her arm and pinned her gently but solidly to his side to steady her. The intimacy was sublime, though it made keeping her tone even surprisingly difficult.

“She would be justified if she was confused by the fact that you brought Miss de Bourgh back with you. I confess I was.”

“That was an unfortunate complication, but I could not have left Anne there. Lady Catherine was furious when she discovered we had been here over Christmas. I was shocked by her response. She was cruel—abusively so. Such she has continued to be in her letters to both of us this week—and this before she knows I mean to marry you. I do not anticipate a gracious response to the announcement. I am afraid she could make things very difficult for us.”

“How horrid! My mother was angry when I refused Mr Collins, but she was never abusive. I certainly never felt unwelcome in my own home. What will Miss de Bourgh do? Will you bring her to stay with you and your sister?”

Darcy stopped walking and pierced her with an uncommonly intense gaze, even for him. “You continue to amaze me, Elizabeth,” he said at length. “Your only concern in all that I just told you is for my cousin, who has done nothing but abuse you for the past several weeks. Are you not concerned for yourself at all?”

“No, I am not. I have been the object of people’s scorn before and survived it. Unless…can your aunt prevent us marrying?”

“No,” he replied resolutely.

“Then let her rage. Disappointment is a uniquely painful and humiliating sentiment, but the injury will fade eventually. It is more pressing that you assist your cousin.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “And with your blessing, I shall.”

They continued walking but had gone only a few yards before a shout from behind arrested them.

“Kitty?” Elizabeth called. “Is that you?”

Her sister arrived into view flushed and out of breath. “There you are, Lizzy!” she gasped, clutching at her side. “I knew you would come this way.”

“How?” she replied defensively.

Kitty looked between her and Darcy with such a dubious expression that it brought heat to Elizabeth’s cheeks. If she suspected their attachment, however, she did not mention it.

“You must come back. Miss de Bourgh says she can walk no farther. She got as far as the oak stump near the dairy and is refusing to move. Jane and Mr Bingley have gone to fetch the carriage. The rest of us were to wait with her, but she is in high dudgeon, so I said I would run on and find you.”

Elizabeth heard Darcy’s quiet sigh but did not draw attention to it. She only indicated for Kitty to lead the way and fell into step with him behind her.

“I did wonder whether it was a good idea when she said she would walk out with us. I have never seen her walk very far before.” When Darcy did not reply, Elizabeth added, “Is the cause of her ill health known?”

“I can think of a few names for it,” he muttered.

Elizabeth smiled sympathetically yet pressed the matter. “She could hardly be described as hale. She fainted after ten minutes of dancing at the assembly, and I do not think it was affected, for she was terribly embarrassed.”

“No, it was likely genuine,” he conceded. “Her affliction comprises a sorry mix of her mother’s overindulgence and an inherent disposition to frailty. She is just ill enough that nobody can contest her needs but never quite ill enough to justify her behaviour. And she does not scruple to exaggerate her symptoms to get her way.”

Elizabeth thought this was going a little far, but she did not cavil, for he knew her best.

“You seemed surprised that your sister discovered us on this path,” Darcy said after a few minutes of silence and in a voice he obviously intended only she should hear.

“Yes, my sisters prefer the more direct route to Meryton. This path is more meandering and overgrown.”

His countenance took on a decidedly complacent hue. “And did you come this way with any particular purpose in mind, other than to vex my manservant with my muddy boots?”

Elizabeth kept her eyes down and hoped her bonnet would conceal her burning ears from view. “If I did, embarrassing me in this manner will never induce me to admit it.”

It did not help reduce her blush when she felt Darcy place his hand on her lower back and lean close to whisper in her ear. “You will like Pemberley very well, I think. It has plenty of paths on which we can get lost together.”

Her head whipped up, and she laughed, delighted to be so easily rescued from discomfort by his teasing and vastly gratified by the look in his eyes that assured her his was not an empty promise.

They found Miss de Bourgh precisely where Kitty described, seated on the broad oak stump with her arms crossed and her lips pursed. Everybody else was leaning against or swinging on a nearby gate, admiring the view. Kitty ran to join them, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy to speak to his cousin.

“The ramblers have returned, I see,” said Miss de Bourgh as they approached.

“We were less than ten minutes ahead,” Darcy replied brusquely. “What ails you?”

“I can walk no more today.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“What does it matter?” she retorted angrily. “I only agreed to walk out so that I might begin to make amends to you both. If the pair of you are content to stride ahead and abandon me to—” She directed a disdainful look over her shoulder at the younger girls. “I struggle to see why I should trouble myself any further.”

Darcy gave Elizabeth a look expressive of his exasperation, and stalked over to join his sister without another word.

Still unable to discern whether Miss de Bourgh’s fatigue was feigned or not, Elizabeth opted to avoid the subject altogether. Instead, she pulled the feather from her pocket and held it out to her.

“I found this on the path just now. I recalled you like the iridescent ones.”

Miss de Bourgh took it. After staring at it for a moment, she gave a terse grunt of acknowledgement. “I believe you will prove to be a tolerable cousin. More tolerable than some of my others at any rate.”

“Mr Darcy told you we are engaged?”

Miss de Bourgh gave a bark of laughter. “Darcy does not tell anybody his business. It infuriates my mother.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I did not, until you just told me.”

Elizabeth swallowed the first response that sprang to mind. Never had she met a more contrary woman! “I see. Might I prevail upon you to keep the news to yourself for now? We were hoping to wait for Mr Bingley and Jane to come to an understanding before we announced it.”

“That is a stupid scheme. The man spent almost half an hour deciding whether or not he wanted a cup of coffee at breakfast this morning. You could be grey-haired and barren by the time he decides to take a wife. But I suppose if that is your wish, I must play along.”

Elizabeth thanked her and was inordinately relieved to espy the carriage come clattering around the head of the lane shortly afterwards. She was less pleased—though not as angry as Darcy—when it was reluctantly decided that the horses ought not to be sent hither and thither about the freezing countryside too many times in one afternoon, and the walk was curtailed with the entire Netherfield party conveyed home. Her only consolation was in the knowledge that, no matter how frequently her family might behave with a total want of propriety, Darcy’s relations could be uniformly counted on to perform worse.