CHAPTER NINE
Though he longed to hear the words passing from her lips, for a moment, he could scarcely attend her. She had beckoned him closer and then risen up on her toes to whisper in his ear. The warmth of her body so near to his own, the sweet whisper of her breath and her scent conspired to elate and enchant him even before he heard her speak.
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady cannot help but to love a gentleman who makes her laugh…Fitzwilliam.”
He was unmasked. There was nothing for it but to laugh, rather helplessly as they stood there, she joining with him in it. When at last he was recovered, he said, “I recall you once said that follies and nonsense divert you.”
“And I recall you once said that the study of your life was to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
“Perhaps I did,” he acknowledged. “That, however, was before I learnt that the pleasure of earning your smile was well worth some silliness and loss of dignity on my part.”
She laughed, a light little laugh, and dropped her eyes, but he had not yet said all there was to say.
“Last autumn I was pleased to boast of pride, and quick enough to make mention of my temper. I declaimed any inclination towards being an object of ridicule. However, now I have shown you how much I have changed in the latter so that you might know how I have tended to your reproofs with regard to the former.”
“I cannot hold you up to any ridicule,” she said.
“You cannot? But why?” He made a little face at her. “Do you not see me here in whiskers and these ill-fitted clothes which Bingley has seen fit to douse with punch? Does it not divert you that I have behaved in such a stupid manner?”
“It is diverting, that much I will own,” Elizabeth continued with—dare he hope?—a fond look at him.. “But as I have told you once, I cannot ridicule that which is wise and good.”
She laid her hand on his arm. He covered it at once with his hand. “You, sir, are far too much of both to be an object of ridicule, no matter what you are wearing. I may laugh with you, but never will I laugh at you.”
“Elizabeth.” He breathed her name in reverence and in love. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“But I have not told you my stipulation.”
“Anything at all,” Darcy vowed. “Say the word and it shall be given to you.”
“Now that I have learnt of your capacity for diverting me and making me laugh,” she said. “I will insist you keep to it. Jane and Mr Bingley may have their smiles. You and I however—we will laugh.”
“Each and every day,” Darcy said firmly. “I assure you of that. You shall never want for laughter.”
“Of course, one stipulation does beget another—would you grant me a second?"
He kissed her hand. “I am yours to command.”
“Excellent,” said she. “Then do make haste to get those whiskers off your face.”
“You do not like them?” He forced an innocence to his tone. “I had thought to set the new mode in London.”
“Truly?”
“Yes,” he said, reaching up to stroke his lower face with his hand. “I am exceedingly fond of my beard in truth.”
“I see,” she said. “Well. That settles that then.”
He smiled, pleased with his newfound talent for teasing. He would torment her a bit and then appear at Longbourn on the morrow, newly shaven and dressed in appropriate garb.
“It is a shame, that is all.”
Her tone raised suspicion in him. He looked over to see her looking rather dispirited. “You surely do not dislike it so much?”
“It is not that,” she assured him. “My uncle Gardiner had a beard for some time, and I shall admit that I thought it rather distinguished.”
“Then what?”
“No, do not make me say it.”
“You must.”
“I cannot.”
“I insist. As your future husband, I insist you tell me at once.”
“Future husband? I thought you only wished to call on me?”
“Having had such success in obtaining your agreement to that much…” He swallowed, feeling their levity flee. “I confess my previous hopes have been rekindled.”
She said nothing for a moment.
“My wishes are unchanged, Elizabeth. They have been thus for many months now but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”
For a moment her breath caught, and she was required to inhale deeply before saying, “My word is yes.”
It was his turn now to catch his breath and he reached for her hands, pulling them to his chest, and rested his forehead on hers. They stood a moment in silent exultation with one another.
“This brings me to my second request,” she whispered.
“Anything, I will give you anything at all,” he said. “You have truly made me the happiest of men.”
“Just that I had thought it would be nice to…well, I would not like my first kiss to be given through scratchy whiskers.”
No more needed said. Darcy bowed hastily, excusing himself from her company to find the man who had so ably assisted him in the matter of his punch-stained attire earlier.
Darcy was gone nearly half an hour. Elizabeth occupied herself in speaking to her aunt of the astonishing events which had transpired, both for herself and for her sister.
When she had finished speaking to Mrs Gardiner, she set about telling all who had gathered the truth of Mr Darcy’s little farce. It was interesting to Elizabeth—particularly given her enjoyment of the study of character—to observe how the majority of those gathered pretended to have known of Mr Darcy’s true identity from the first.
“Of course, I did not believe it.” Mr Goulding said. “A man of such fine tall bearing is difficult to disguise.”
“I might have believed a brother,” Lady Lucas decided. “But a cousin? No, it was not to be believed. No two could be that similar.”
“Mr Darcy has lost a bit of weight,” said Mr Philips. “But perhaps it was the effect of the cut of his coat. In any case, it confused me only momentarily.”
“Theatricals!” exclaimed Sir William, bouncing on his toes as was his habit. “How exceedingly diverting! Such a fine amusement for young people. He must consider a bit of Shakespeare for his next! He cannot deny me the pleasure of seeing him perform Shakespeare!”
Elizabeth had just completed her task when Mr Darcy re-entered the assembly. Her breath caught when she saw him.
He was the Mr Darcy she had known from the first, and yet not. He was every inch the gentleman, with a fine, tall person draped in well-fitted and expensive clothes, as well as handsome features, and a noble mien. Elizabeth looked at him with great admiration, admiration which swelled, knowing as she did, that his manners were so very different now than they were then.
Darcy moved through the hall with one thought in his mind: to get to Elizabeth, hie her back to the terrace, and kiss her. Alas, it would seem that every person in Meryton must come to him and speak of his little farce. He had scarcely moved an inch before another approached him, exclaiming over his jest and the fact that they themselves had known the truth from the first. It might have amused him had his senses not been filled with the imagined feel of his betrothed being held within his arms.
Bingley stopped him just as he drew near to where Elizabeth stood with her aunt and uncle. The last dance was nearly through and he felt the prodding of elapsing time. “I had a very enjoyable dance with Miss Bennet.”
“Excellent. Pray excuse me I?—”
“Does she still hold me in regard? Does she not? It is impossible to know!”
“Her sister says she does, so she must,” Darcy said briskly. “Perhaps you ought to speak to her directly.”
“I cannot, not right now,” Bingley replied glumly. “She dances with Hartleigh.”
“Tomorrow then. You and I shall call at Longbourn as early as may be.” Darcy edged away from his friend as they spoke. Bingley moved with him.
“Tell me, what is your opinion on next day calls?”
“My opinion on what?” Darcy stretched his head in an attempt to see Elizabeth.
“Next day calls. Saye once told me that a gentleman must never call on a lady before two days have elapsed from the time of a dance.”
Darcy looked at Bingley with some confusion. “A next-day call is perfectly proper and even expected.”
“’Tis his own rule, I suppose.” Bingley shrugged. “He said himself he prefers three days, but I think that is excessive. He also said something on the order of ‘men before hens’—I had no notion what to make of that. He said he will write it all down in a book for us.”
“Saye is an idiot,” Darcy said impatiently. “Whatever book he writes will be best used as kindling.”
“But if you call on her too soon,” Bingley mused aloud, “is there not the danger of vexing her? A day or so of reflection might lead her to recall you in a more favourable light.”
Elizabeth had caught his eye, and Darcy gave her a private look. She blushed, sending a thrill directly through him. “I need to leave you now,” he said to Bingley. He turned and began to close the distance between Elizabeth and himself.
Bingley remained close to him, muttering about Saye and how long he ought to wait between dances and calls. Darcy ignored him, for soon they had converged on Elizabeth’s group, which was her uncle, her aunt, and her sisters, as well as Sir William Lucas and Mrs Goulding.
Darcy hoped the size of the group would make it easier for him to steal her away, but it was not to be so. On the contrary, they seemed to close ranks around her, making it impossible to even speak to her privately in what he soon realised were the last moments of the assembly. They stood in pointless, annoying conversation until, at last, all hope had to be removed from him.
“Well, young ladies,” Mr Gardiner announced before too much time had elapsed. “The evening has passed with great pleasure, but I, for one, think longingly of my bed!” He began to move his party from the hall.
Elizabeth sent Darcy a wistful glance which encouraged him. He moved close, touching her arm to halt her. “Can you not linger?”
“My uncle is not one to tarry.”
“Perhaps if he knows of our changed understanding?”
“If he knew of our changed understanding, he would surely not tarry,” she said with a little laugh. Then, clearing her throat just a bit, she said, “I find I often have difficulty sleeping after such an assembly as this.”
He grinned. “As do I.”