Page 32 of Strange Happenings at Longbourn (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #11)
Chapter Twenty-One
They paused just outside Longbourn’s door, the late afternoon light slanting across the gravel drive in long golden shafts.
The crisp scent of autumn leaves hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of wood-smoke from the kitchen chimneys.
Inside, muffled voices and the clink of china spoke of tea being laid in the drawing room.
Darcy stopped walking, and Elizabeth, still holding her gloves in one hand, turned to look at him, curiosity bright in her dark eyes.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began, feeling an uncharacteristic tightness in his throat.
He had faced parliamentary debates, magistrates, and the responsibilities of a great estate with far greater ease than he did this small, determined woman.
Clearing his throat, he pressed on. “Our beginning was…different, but you graciously gave me another chance to prove my worth. I wish to enter into an official courtship. With you. May I speak to your father?” The words came out in a rush, far less eloquent than he had imagined them in the sleepless hours of the night before, but they were honest.
A slow smile began to grow on her face, softening her features in a way that made his heart stumble.
“Yes, I think a courtship sounds very agreeable,” she replied.
“I confess, upon our first meeting, I found you to be the most objectionable man I ever had the misfortune of encountering, but my feelings now are quite the opposite. Though our acquaintance is slight, I believe we have much in common.”
He let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. “Then I may go to your father?” he asked, almost eagerly.
“Yes, sir, you may go to my father. I shall take you there myself.” She looped her arm through his, and together they stepped over the threshold into the warm, familiar air of Longbourn.
The hall smelled faintly of beeswax and old roses; sunlight filtered through the fanlight above the door, casting patterns on the polished floorboards.
They traversed the long hallway, the muted ticking of the tall clock marking each step, until they came to Mr. Bennet’s study.
Elizabeth knocked lightly on the door, and Mr. Bennet’s dry voice called for them to enter.
“Why, Elizabeth! And Mr. Darcy…what a surprise.” Mr. Bennet was seated in his high-backed chair behind a desk strewn with books and papers, a half-filled teacup beside him.
He raised an eyebrow and gave them a look of undisguised amusement.
“You have been keeping secrets from your mother, my dear,” he said to his daughter, his eyes glinting. “I applaud your efforts.”
“Mama is occupied with Jane and Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth replied with a hint of mischief. “Mr. Darcy would like to speak with you—”
“Yes, I thought as much. Very well, sir, I am listening.” Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his waistcoat, a picture of genial expectation.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, silently wondering if this was not a conversation better conducted in private, man to man.
“Elizabeth is the subject of the discussion, Mr. Darcy. She may stay to hear it all.” Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched, and Darcy had the distinct impression he was being toyed with.
Very well, two can play at this game. Darcy squared his shoulders. “Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth has agreed to come away to Scotland with me.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows shot up, his face momentarily slack before his gaze flicked to his daughter.
Elizabeth laughed outright. “You brought that on yourself, Papa.” She squeezed Darcy’s arm affectionately. “I shall just wait in the hall while you two have your discussion. And Father—Mr. Darcy can apparently hold his own. Best be on your guard.” She departed with a light step, still chuckling.
“Have a seat, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet gestured towards the chair opposite. The study was dim but comfortable, lined floor to ceiling with shelves heavy with books, the faint scent of leather and ink in the air. “I assure you, I shall take the rest of our meeting seriously.”
Darcy lowered himself into the chair. “I have asked Miss Elizabeth for an official courtship,” he began. “She has agreed. We now seek your permission.”
“You have known each other for scarcely more than a month. Are you not proceeding too hastily?” Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable.
Darcy shook his head. “If I were proposing, I would be inclined to agree. But an acquaintance of four weeks is not too short for a courtship. I wish to know your daughter better, and we have more liberties in that arrangement than if we were merely…something less.”
Mr. Bennet tapped his fingers lightly on the arm of his chair. “And do you wish for this courtship to be public knowledge?”
Darcy’s brows drew together. “Are not courtships generally public knowledge?”
“They are. My wife, however, has always been very…invested in her daughters’ futures. She will be overjoyed to know her most difficult child—by her estimation—has entered a courtship. I believe she will shower you with every attention.” His grin was sly and almost wicked.
“You seek to torture me, then?” Darcy asked with a raised brow.
“Elizabeth is my favorite child, Mr. Darcy. It is a father’s prerogative to make a suitor squirm.
” Mr. Bennet leaned forward, his expression softening.
“In truth, I cannot imagine a better match for her in terms of fortune and connections. My greatest concern is her heart. She seems amenable, and I will not deny her what she desires.”
“Then we have your approval?”
“Yes.”
Darcy smiled in earnest. “Thank you, sir.”
“Go fetch Elizabeth. She is probably pacing outside the door.”
It was just so. When Darcy opened the door, she was standing there, her hands clasped, eyes bright with anticipation.
“Your courtship is official, my dear,” Mr. Bennet announced. “It falls to you to inform Mrs. Bennet. I daresay she will insist on your suitor remaining for supper if you tell her now.” He waved a hand, already turning back to his book. “Now go, I have reading to finish.”
Darcy offered his arm, and they moved down the hall towards the large drawing room.
The fire there was burning brightly, filling the air with the scent of applewood.
Jane and Mr. Bingley sat together on the settee, and Mrs. Bennet presided from her armchair, her lace cap quivering as she leaned forward.
“There you are, Darcy! Mrs. Bennet has just invited us to stay for supper. What say you?” Bingley beamed.
“I cannot think of anything more agreeable. Mrs. Bennet sets a fine table.” Darcy’s tone was warm, and he inclined his head towards the matron, who until now had looked at him with something between suspicion and disdain.
“I thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice softened, though she still eyed him curiously. “I am sorry there is not more time to prepare some of your favorites. ”
He assured her with a polite smile that he would be delighted with whatever was served, then bent his head to Elizabeth, their quiet words about when—and how—to reveal their news threading between the murmurs of the room.
The Longbourn dining room was aglow with candlelight, the flames reflecting off polished silver and the delicate floral china brought out for company.
A small fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden warmth that softened the November chill.
The long mahogany table was dressed with a clean linen cloth, its faint scent of lavender starch rising as the guests took their places.
Platters of roasted capon, glazed carrots, and a steaming dish of buttered potatoes were set out, their aromas mingling into something rich and homey.
Mrs. Bennet could scarcely contain herself as the company assembled. “Mr. Darcy! My dear Mr. Darcy! To think— you staying for supper! What an honor for Longbourn!” Her cheeks were flushed, and her lace cap trembled with excitement as she waved everyone towards their seats.
Darcy, still uncertain whether Elizabeth had yet told her mother of their new understanding, offered a polite bow. Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and caution, silently urging him to keep the news until all were seated.
Bingley gallantly guided Jane to her place, his gaze lingering on her with such warmth that even Lydia stopped chattering for a moment to smirk knowingly. He took his seat beside her, leaning in as though any excuse to be nearer would do.
Once the soup course had been served, Elizabeth quietly cleared her throat. “Mama, Papa has given his approval for Mr. Darcy and me to enter into an official courtship.”
The effect was instantaneous. Mrs. Bennet gasped, her hand flying to her breast. “A courtship! With Mr. Darcy! Oh, heavens! Oh, my sweetest Lizzy! What joy! What—” She broke off with a little squeal, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.
“I am so overcome! Such fortune for my dear girl! And for Longbourn! And for me !”
Lydia clapped her hands together. “Oh! Will there be a ball? We must have a ball!”
Kitty leaned across the table. “Will he buy you diamonds? Or a carriage? Oh, Lizzy, you must tell us everything! ”
Jane smiled warmly at her sister, though her glance flicked towards Bingley, her own happiness tempered by the uncertainty of her own situation.
Bingley, catching her look, leaned ever so slightly towards Darcy and muttered low enough for only him to hear, “I had best get a move on, old man, or I will be left behind.”
Before Elizabeth could respond to her sisters’ excited questions, Mr. Collins cleared his throat with ponderous self-importance.
“My dear cousins, while I of course extend my most sincere felicitations upon this—ah—understanding, I must caution you that in matters of high connection and advantageous marriage, there are—well—certain considerations of propriety, patronage, and the—er—approval of distinguished relations.”