Page 40 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
S tanding amidst the parishioners and facing the church doors, Darcy was doing his best to ignore the constant low chattering of Caroline Bingley berating their neighbours. “Surely, you are just as ready to escape this tedious place as I, Mr Darcy,” she finished.
“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” was his only reply. Offering her a curt bow, he removed himself from her side.
As he was walking along the stone wall towards the solace of Wentworth’s company, he was arrested by the sight of a dark-haired seraph standing in the entrance, haloed in light from behind, completely unaware of the profusion of peace she was creating in his core.
He stood rooted to the ground, his lips parted as if to speak, his hand floating up towards her as if he could somehow touch her from across the length of the ancient building.
Flooding back to his mind came thoughts of their time spent together before she was forced to stay at Netherfield and then their intimate hours hidden away in the library. How deeply important she had become to him, how full his affection for her had grown.
She truly had become his most beloved friend. He had put himself in her power, and she had handled him with utmost care.
Darcy had needed it. It only occurred to him at this moment how dazed he had been when he first joined his friend in Hertfordshire. His mind had been a constant abyss of dark and dangerous thoughts, having just recovered—not even fully recovered—from Wickham’s bullet and his treachery.
He had been standing aloof at that assembly, gnawing on his rancour, determined—as Elizabeth had once so aptly accused him—to hate everyone, and she walked into his life and refused to allow it.
She brought so much light to his days that he eventually forgot to be bitter and resentful.
His appreciation for her excellence welled up as he continued to gaze at her, his saviour, standing framed in that doorway.
He was shaken from this hypnosis by the sound of a man very intentionally clearing his throat.
“I say, old man, you are going to have to get a hold of yourself if you do not desire the townsfolk to talk,” Wentworth said with a quiet chuckle, gently lowering Darcy's arm. “I take it all is forgiven, then?”
Darcy had not realised how evident his ire towards Elizabeth had been, but at these words, he understood that all truly was forgiven.
More than that, he had no wish to get a hold of himself.
If he could catch her outside the church and compromise her into marriage as Wentworth had tried so many years before, he would without hesitation.
Alas, it was not to be. The whole village was now shuffling in, and she was lost in the crowd as bells signalled the start of services.
Afterwards, as it had begun to rain during the sermon and continued through the hymns and closing benediction, Elizabeth rushed out with her mother and sisters, their large umbrellas shielding her from sight as they climbed into the family’s coach.
As he was lamenting her hasty departure, Darcy was faced yet again with the barbs and slurs of Miss Bingley.
“What a strange creature is Miss Eliza. She just handed me a note, thanking me for my generous gift,” she said, holding up a small piece of paper.
“Not that I could even read half of it—her handwriting is so blotchy.”
Darcy snatched it out of her hand without a thought to invading her privacy and read it to himself.
To my gracious Benefactor,
How overwhelmed I was to receive the package you sent yesterday.
Do not demur, for though it appeared anonymously, I am certain it was you.
Words cannot express my appreciation for the thoughtfulness, the effort, and the expense that went into your beautiful and unsparing gift.
Of course, given the way you love your family and even your servants, I should have expected such liberality.
These gifts shall forever stay a soothing reminder that I have not lost your friendship.
I shall think of you whenever I wear them, of your affection and kindness, and I shall pray that God keep you wherever you are.
The hole in my heart created by your departure, I shall fill with warm memories of our time together, and I shall force myself to be content.
May God bless your generosity. I thank you again and remain,
Your truest friend,
E Benne t
“What can she mean? My truest friend, indeed,” Miss Bingley sniffed haughtily.
“I know exactly what she means,” Darcy replied under his breath.
Can she know? Yes, she must. And she must have known the first thing Miss Bingley would do was use this missive as a weapon against her. My clever Elizabeth.
When Wentworth approached the pair, Darcy folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket, knowing Miss Bingley would never dare ask for it back—nor, he thought, even recall its existence within the hour.
He mustered as disinterested an air as he could and asked him, “Is everything set for tomorrow?”
“All set,” Wentworth replied with a wink.
As Bingley sat down across from his friend in the warm glow of the firelight, Italics left his accustomed place on Darcy’s lap to greet the newcomer. “Good evening, old man,” he said to the friendly feline.
“Careful, Bingley, you are starting to sound like Wentworth,” Darcy joked.
The pair chuckled, and Bingley gave the cat the attention he demanded for a few minutes before Darcy asked, “What brings you into the library this evening? Surely, you are not here simply to commune with Italics.”
“No, Italics is just a bonus. I have come to speak to you.” The worried look on his face smarted, and Darcy was again ashamed that, in his arrogance, he had managed to alienate his most devoted friend.
Bingley , he thought, must never fear speaking openly with me .
With this resolution, he closed his book and turned his full attention to the young man before him.
“I am at your disposal,” Darcy assured him.
“You see, Darcy,” he began, then faltered. He stopped and started several times, clearly hesitant to broach the subject.
Rather than allowing Bingley to continue in his discomfort, Darcy decided to put him out of his misery.
“You wish to marry Jane Bennet, and you would like me to either give you my blessing or keep my blasted opinions to myself.”
Bingley shook his head in astonishment at Darcy’s frank surmise, then he let his shoulders fall as he nodded, saying, “Yes, that is it exactly.”
“Bingley, I have been too high-handed with you. I should never have tried to convince you to go against your own inclinations. Miss Bennet is a lovely woman, as anyone with sense can see, and if you believe she can make you happy, and you her, then you have my full blessing and support.”
The expression of relief on his friend’s face soon became one of anxious excitement. The last hurdle was crossed. Bingley could now pursue his heart’s earnest desire without impediment. Darcy could see how eager he was to get on with the task and so excused him graciously.
Not long after one Bingley had left the room, the other entered, holding a handkerchief over her nose.
“Darcy,” she half-screeched. “We must do something. Charles is intent on marrying that girl, and if you do not act, he is going to declare himself to her in the morning.”
“Are you suggesting that I attempt to separate your brother from Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked nonchalantly.
“We are to be saddled with that woman and all her loathsome, tedious sisters for life if you do not.” Again, she was putting words to her persistent dream of a union between them. Darcy could not restrain the cringe creeping up his spine.
“Bingley is to be happily married to a virtuous and beautiful woman from an old and respectable family, and you shall indeed gain five sisters. While I do not know them well enough to loathe any of them, I should not call them tedious—there is never a lack of activity in the Bennets’ home.”
“How can you say that? You have seen how silly the youngest ones are. And Miss Eliza—the abominable impertinence! As for Miss Bennet, I do not know if she even has a heart. I have never seen such a vapid, grasping woman in my life.”
Darcy wondered how she was always so well-turned-out when her dressing table had clearly been without a mirror all these years.
“Caroline Antigone Frances Bingley!” Her brother’s voice from the doorway projected a rage Darcy had never heard, and it made him proud.
“You will desist in your vicious, ill-mannered attacks on my future wife. As you cannot find it in your heart to accept my decision and rejoice with me, you will be joining Louisa and Hurst when they depart for London. Tomorrow.”
“But, the ball. After all I have done to prepare. Surely you cannot send me away before the ball,” she cried, manifestly horrified at the thought of being banished from her own home.
“You shall leave as soon as your trunks are packed, ball or no.” The look on Bingley’s face forestalled any argument from his sister on the matter. While he had her silent, he added, “And if you cannot learn to hold your venomous tongue, you will not be welcomed to Netherfield again. ”
“Nor Pemberley,” Darcy added, standing up alongside his friend. “I cannot have the feminine ears of my household accosted by such offences and indignities.”
“Mr Darcy, surely you know I would never slight dear Georgiana,” she cried, further panicked at the prospect of never seeing Pemberley again.
“I was not speaking of Georgiana,” he said as he turned to look her straight in the eyes, “I refer tomy abominably impertinent beloved, the future MrsDarcy.”