“I am come, sir, to request your consent to marry your daughter, Elizabeth.”
The words hung in the air. Mr. Bennet gestured to the chair opposite; his surprise was plain. “Sit down, Mr. Darcy; let us talk as men.”
“Pray call me Darcy, sir.”
”And I am Bennet.”
Darcy took a seat, clasping his hands before him.
“You must know, Darcy,” Mr. Bennet began, studying him closely, “that Lizzy is very dear to me. She is headstrong, opinionated, and entirely too clever for her own good. But she is also tender-hearted, fiercely loyal, and deserving of a husband who sees her worth—not as a possession, but as a partner.”
“I know it well.” Darcy‘s manner was firm. “And I cherish every one of those qualities. She has altered my very course in life. I came to Hertfordshire proud and blind. It was she who opened my eyes—and my heart.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back, folding his arms. “What of your family? The tonis not always kind to those they deem beneath them. How do you intend to shield her from the inevitable disdain?”
His regard was unwavering. “I will love Elizabeth with all that I am. That love will be her armor. My family may disapprove, society may scoff, yet I shall stand firm. She will be mistress of Pemberley, and no one—no one—will ever make her feel unworthy.”
Silence settled between them as Mr. Bennet studied the young man. At length, the stern cast of his countenance yielded, a smile suffusing his countenance with paternal joy.
“I had wondered if any man might truly deserve her. His words trembled with feeling. “But now I find that I could not part with my Lizzy to anyone less worthy, sir.”
Darcy exhaled, the tightness in his shoulders easing. “Thank you, Bennet. You have gifted me my heart’s greatest desire, sir.”
Mr. Bennet’s chuckle held both fondness and resignation. “She is full of surprises, my Lizzy. I suspect you will never be bored.”
Joy broke through his reserve, and a true smile spread across his face, unguarded and bright. “I should hope not.”
As he rose, Mr. Bennet followed and extended his hand. “Welcome to the family, Darcy. Heaven help you.”
He clasped the offered hand with contained pride. “And heaven bless us all.”
He made to depart.
“Send Lizzy in, will you? I wish to speak with her.”
Elizabeth
Elizabeth entered her father’s study smiling, the promise of her future shining in her eyes. He gestured to the chair Darcy had so lately occupied, and she sat, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
Her father regarded her carefully, his features unreadable.
“So,” he began, drawing out the word, “Darcy has just left my study after a rather earnest appeal. He wishes to marry you.”
“Yes, Papa.”
He leaned forward. “You are determined to accept him?”
“I am.”
He rose and moved toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He stood in thoughtful silence before speaking again.
“I must confess, I once thought him the proudest, most disagreeable man I had ever met. I disliked him greatly. But he has changed; anyone can see it. He was not always kind in his manner, Lizzy, and I know too well what can happen when respect between husband and wife is lost.”
He turned and faced her, his eyes gentle but searching. “Are you certain, my dear? Truly certain? Marriage is a long journey. You must be very sure of your heart and your regard.”
Elizabeth rose and came to stand beside him. “I am sure, Papa. He is no longer the man we first thought him to be—he is better. Darcy is generous and principled, and above all, he is kind. He wooed me not with grand speeches or flattery, but with care and understanding. I found myself in the middle of it before I knew what had happened. And now I love him with my whole heart.”
Mr. Bennet studied her for a long moment; then the sternness of his countenance gave way to tenderness.
