Page 39 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

W hen Darcy’s eyes met Elizabeth’s where she stood next to Mr. Collins, a swooping sensation filled his stomach. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling, and he could not help but stare. How had he ever thought her less than lovely? He greeted her, taking her hand. He had done so many times prior, but this time, the urge to kiss it swelled within him.

As they walked to Meryton, ignoring Mr. Collins’s discourse entirely, Darcy kept stealing glances at Elizabeth. How in the world was he supposed to woo a woman like her?

Their union was not etched in stone—either of them could make a different choice; no wonder Mrs. Engel had said that having Elizabeth in Tuesday was a risky proposition.

His palms grew damp. What if he had already destroyed his chances with her? He had been frank about his concerns regarding her family, and if Miss Bennet was determined to marry for affection and respect alone, might not Elizabeth have similar beliefs?

Darcy tugged at his coat. If only he knew how to go about it. Perhaps—could he speak to Bingley? The man would not remember their conversation and his friend might have a suggestion; Bingley was practised in the art of wooing.

With that resolved, Darcy turned his attention to the younger Bennets. If one of the Bennets was likely to marry Wickham, it would certainly be one of the younger girls.

Although... as he studied them, Darcy could not fathom such a thing happening. Too busy contemplating Elizabeth, he had not considered how unlikely such an occurrence would be until now. Wickham would never settle for marrying a young lady without fortune or status—ruin, yes—especially if he learned of Darcy’s affection for Elizabeth. But marry? Definitely not.

Nor could he see Wickham pursuing any of the younger Bennets out of affection. They were none of them the sort of women Wickham preferred.

Well, he would simply have to watch Wickham’s interactions with the two younger girls today. Perhaps, once he had gained Elizabeth’s love, they could speak openly about which of her sisters would be more likely to pursue Wickham.

Elizabeth sat down at the pianoforte and began her exercises. Mr. Darcy had been strangely quiet this morning. They seldom had an opportunity for lengthy conversation while Mr. Collins was present, but even after Mr. Collins was engaged in speaking to her aunt, Mr. Darcy had been silent and grave. Yet he also had seemed lighter, and he had watched her all morning long.

She ran her fingers down the length of the pianoforte. At least some good was coming out of all these Tuesdays. Though she might not merit the accolade “accomplished,” she was much more polished than she had been a month ago.

If a part of her desired to become proficient so as to be a worthy bride for a member of the ton, she stifled it. Far better not to worry about things that could never occur.

Besides, she was enjoying her increased skills for herself. It was delightful not to have to fudge her way through various pieces. And, despite the annoyance of daily convincing Charlotte to continue their lessons, she enjoyed the time sketching with her friend. If it were not for the tediousness of repeated conversations, Jane’s constant concern over her change in routine, and how much she missed Charlotte and Jane, she might have even enjoyed these Tuesdays. Mr. Darcy was an excellent companion—in many ways, she was glad he was the one who was trapped in Tuesday with her—nevertheless, it would have been much more pleasant to have him and her two dearest friends.

Hopefully, Mr. Darcy was well; she would have to ask him about his disquiet tonight at dinner.

Sisyphus snorted, clearly annoyed by his master’s fidgeting as Darcy and Bingley rode around the west fields. Darcy cleared his throat, deciding there was no right way to introduce this conversation. “Bingley, you are experienced with women; how do you intend to go about wooing Miss Bennet?”

Bingley blinked at him. “Why do you ask? Did Caroline ask you to intercede? I know she does not like Miss Bennet; however, Miss Bennet is a woman of excellent character, and―”

“I am asking because I know little about wooing women,” Darcy burst out.

“You are not asking because you dislike Miss Bennet?” Bingley said, still suspicious.

Darcy shook his head stiffly, clutching the reins. This was deuced hard, despite knowing that Bingley would not remember! “My father never spoke to me about how to woo a woman.”

Bingley hesitated. “Is there someone in particular you intend to pursue?”

“Miss Elizabeth.”

Bingley sat stock still before shaking himself. “I must not have heard you properly; I thought you said that you were going to pursue Miss Elizabeth.”

“I did,” Darcy said.

“Oh.”

For a moment, Darcy considered simply dropping the matter and running as far from the conversation as possible, but then he reminded himself that Elizabeth would not marry him if she did not esteem him and that he wished to spend every day of his life with her. And so, he simply waited.

“Well,” Bingley said slowly. “Are you certain you wish to pursue her? You have never seemed particularly friendly, and I would not wish to see you hurt. Nor will I allow you to toy with her feelings—she does not deserve that,” he said sternly. Then a horrified look crossed his face. “Not that you would do so, of course. It is only that I―” He huffed. “Are you certain you truly wish to pursue her? She is not the sort of woman the Matlocks would desire you to wed.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “I am certain.” His hands trembled, despite how tightly clenched his fingers were; saying the words aloud, even to someone who would not remember, felt like a declaration. He had not yet even dared to speak the truth aloud to himself. “I find her to be intelligent, witty, kind, and lovely.”

Bingley opened and closed his mouth several times. “Do you believe she will be amenable to your suit?”

“I do not know—is not that the point of wooing a woman? To help them recognise that you are the proper mate for them?”

“I suppose you could look at it that way; however, I would not recommend pursuing a woman who is disinterested or actively hostile towards you.”

“Hostile?” Darcy croaked.

Bingley shifted in his saddle. “I do not mean to speak out of turn, but from what I have observed, you two seem to be adversarial.”

“Are you referring to her witty banter?” Darcy asked, searching his memories for some hint of why Bingley would use “adversarial” to describe them.

“You never agree about anything.”

“We both enjoy a good debate.” He smiled, recalling the debate from the day before yesterday about the virtues of naming one’s animals after literary characters.

Bingley’s eyes widened. “You truly like her.”

“I have said so.”

“Yes, but I have never seen you smile quite like that.”

Darcy hesitated, trying to decide how much to share with his friend. “For many years now, I have found little reason to smile. After my father’s death, duty seemed to be all that remained. But I have recently been considering whether there is more to life than duty.”

“Well, whatever the cause, I am glad to see you smile.”

Darcy nodded. Setting aside his worries about whether Wednesday would ever occur, he was truly happier than he had been in some time—probably since before his mother had died. Being with Elizabeth, learning to care about those around him, learning to find the small pleasures in life—it had all made a profound difference in how he viewed the world and how he experienced life.

“Well, I—I cannot tell you how to woo Miss Elizabeth in particular,” Bingley said. “And I—I believe you should proceed cautiously.”

“Oh?”

Bingley frowned down at his horse. “If Miss Elizabeth does not view you favourably, I would not wish for you to suffer heartache.”

Too late for that, Darcy thought ruefully. Elizabeth had long since drawn him in, and it was many weeks since he could have avoided heartache. Even when he had gone to London some four weeks ago, he had missed her without realising how deeply he cared for her. “I shall attempt to woo wisely,” he promised.

Bingley cleared his throat. “I do not know that there is a specific method of pursuing a woman. Personally, I find that most women want someone to listen to them, to show consideration for their needs and wants, and to make it clear that you consider them special—with flowers or the like.”

Darcy nodded slowly. “Those all sound reasonable, but―” He glanced at his friend before returning his attention to the pathway, his cheeks heating. “Are there not some established phrases to announce one’s interest?”

Bingley remained silent, and Darcy risked another glance at his friend. A look of utter bewilderment sat on the man’s face.

“Do you mean when you propose to a woman?” Bingley asked. “You are not intending to propose immediately, are you?”

Darcy shook his head. “No. I refer to the process of proclaiming one’s interest.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose compliments are common―”

Darcy huffed. “Is it customary to announce your intentions at some point in the wooing process?”

“When you propose―”

“I am not referring to a proposal,” Darcy said sharply. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he could not expect Bingley to read his mind. “If I pursue Miss Elizabeth, do I need to announce my intentions first? Or do I wait to see if she welcomes my attentions?”

Bingley made a face. “In my experience, it depends upon the gentleman and the lady and the lady’s parents; I—I intend to wait to speak to Miss Bennet until I am certain of her affections and of my own heart,” he told his horse’s mane. “I am almost certain, but—it is a big decision, is it not?”

“Indeed it is.”

Bingley cast a sideways look at Darcy. “If you pursue Miss Elizabeth, there are a great many impediments. Frankly, I had expected you to warn me away from the Bennets.”

“Why?”

Bingley floundered. “Well, you—I—Caroline has made no secret of her concerns and you have always looked as though you agreed with her. At least, you have not said anything to disagree with her and that is as good as an agreement with you.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “You know your own heart and situation better than anyone else does. And yes, there are impediments: their abysmal connections, their lack of wealth, the lack of propriety so uniformly shown by Mrs. Bennet and the two younger girls, to name a few. However, I am not the one who would be living with Miss Bennet; I am not living your life. It is your life to live, Bingley, and I am sorry if I have ever made you feel that you could not do so for yourself.”

Bingley studied him for a long moment. “Thank you, Darcy.”

“I have wished to keep you from making the same mistakes that I did, but that does not give me the right to make your decisions for you. Miss Bennet seems like a worthy young woman, and if you decide she is the woman for you, then I shall not stand in your way.”

“Thank you,” Bingley said, blinking at him. “I―” He cleared his throat. “I shall be glad of your support.”

“I shall be glad to offer it, though I do not believe you need it.”

Bingley cleared his throat again. “I would support you if you were to marry Miss Elizabeth,” he said earnestly. “I know that my support means little in society, but I would offer it just the same.”

“I am glad you approve.”

Bingley shook his head ruefully. “I may be the only person who does, but yes, if you can convince Miss Elizabeth to marry you, I believe you would do extremely well together. I have often thought that you might be excellent friends once you cease provoking each other.”

“We do not provoke each other.”

Bingley snorted. “Debating then.”

“I shall do my best,” Darcy said, wondering for the first time what Bingley would make of his and Elizabeth’s closeness whenever Wednesday finally came. It would probably come as a surprise to many people. If he did gain Elizabeth’s heart, Lady Matlock would certainly require a great deal of convincing. And Lady Catherine would never forgive him for not marrying her daughter.

“I wish you well,” Bingley said with a grin. Then, sobering, he asked, “Did I answer your question?”

“By telling me that every gentleman has a different way of wooing his lady and that every lady has different things that they prefer?” Darcy said dryly.

Bingley blinked at him and then grinned. “I suppose that is the gist of what I said. You will simply have to investigate Miss Elizabeth’s preferences; I can speak to Miss Bennet if you would like.”

“Thank you. I shall consider the matter and let you know.” In truth, it seemed a little silly to have Bingley ask anything of Miss Bennet since it was unlikely he would do so tonight and that meant Darcy would have to wait until later to gain the information. And he could not give Elizabeth any trinkets, or the like, as he saw others do—they would vanish overnight. He would have to be more creative. At least Mrs. Engel had given him time to woo Elizabeth.

His stomach twisted as he recalled that he had not yet told her of meeting Mrs. Engel; if he wished to retain Elizabeth’s trust, he would have to disclose the encounter at some point. Better to do so sooner rather than later.

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted as he reached their corner in Mrs. Phillips’s drawing room.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he returned.

Elizabeth studied him as he settled into the chair next to her. Though she had gotten to know Mr. Darcy fairly well in the past weeks, she did not recognise his expression. There was something warm in it that made her blush, but underneath that, he seemed uncertain.

She hesitated for a moment, before deciding that she might as well ask. “Are you well?”

“Pardon?”

“You have been very quiet today; is something amiss?”

Mr. Darcy shifted in his seat. “I—yes. I am well. Merely preoccupied. I apologise if I have seemed inattentive.”

Elizabeth waved his concern away. “You have not been rude—merely quiet. And you are certainly allowed to be preoccupied.”

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile.

Elizabeth mock-glared at him. “You do not have to tease me with excessive gratitude for granting rights which you already possess.”

“What penance can I offer?” Mr. Darcy asked playfully.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. “I am open to suggestions.”

“If the lady wishes, I shall wipe away my inattention by focusing entirely on her tonight,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

Elizabeth smiled. It still caught her off guard when Mr. Darcy teased her. Her smile dimmed as she wished that he might pay her close attention tonight and every other night. She had been worried this afternoon, but more than that, she had missed him. “Very well. See that you do not repeat your offence,” she said with mock severity. “What did you do this afternoon?”

Mr. Darcy began fingering his coat sleeves—a sign that indicated some agitation.

“You do not have to tell me, if you do not wish to do so,” she hurried to put in.

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “No, I would be glad to tell you about my day. Bingley and I inspected the west fields―”

“Again? Are you not sick to death of riding through them?”

Mr. Darcy pursed his lips. “I am. However, I would much prefer to spend the day out of doors rather than cooped up at Netherfield. After all, the weather is quite fine.” He sighed. “Besides, it is not as though I can go back to Netherfield and make notes with Bingley about what improvements to make.”

“True. I do wish Mrs. Engel would have provided a means for keeping records. Rewriting my notes on Longbourn’s tenants every morning is quite tedious.”

“Indeed. What did you do this afternoon?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Practised pianoforte and told Jane that I would explain my uncharacteristic behaviour tomorrow; in other words, a normal day.”

“I wish it was not so. You could try to tell Miss Bennet the truth,” he offered half-heartedly.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I despise repeating that conversation. I would much prefer to wait until Wednesday to have it again.”

“I understand,” Mr. Darcy said solemnly. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if—perhaps —would you care to ride up to Oakham Mount tomorrow morning?”

“On what horse?” Elizabeth asked with a laugh. “You cannot mean Belle, and our horses are needed at the farm.”

Mr. Darcy brushed away what seemed like imaginary lint from his coat sleeve. “I could have the groom saddle Belle for you tomorrow morning.”

“I would rather not tempt fate,” Elizabeth said dryly. “It is one thing to ride in a secluded pasture; it is another to ride other paths at times when we do not know who may be present.”

Mr. Darcy clasped his hands tightly together. “Very well. Then I shall simply ask if you wish to accompany me on a walk to Oakham Mount tomorrow morning.”

Elizabeth nodded, suppressing a flash of joy. “I shall be ready by eight.”

The man beamed at her. “I shall await your arrival.”

By mutual consent, they ended that topic and resumed their ongoing discussion about Shakespeare’s poetry, knowing that the card tables would soon make an appearance.