“It does not feel imperative to me, but I would like it.”
“And so I assume it follows that we should marry at the church in Meryton.”
“Again, not necessary to my happiness, but it would make it easier to obtain my father’s participation.”
“You are the most easy-going bride-to-be in the history of the world,” Darcy said. “I have heard Georgiana say something about girls dreaming of their wedding day….” A bitter laugh burst from him as he considered that years-old memory in light of Georgiana’s almost elopement. But he said, “Forgive me. I had not before thought of that memory in connexion with?—”
“I understand, dearest.” Elizabeth gave him a brief, soft kiss and resumed their conversation: “I have not dreamed of my wedding day, but I have dreamed of marrying someone whom I could respect and love. I was not at all certain I could manage to do so, but it was the marriage, not the wedding, on which I pinned my hopes.”
“I do so love you,” Darcy said. “I always know, with certainty, that I love you at the maximum level; nobody could ever love someone more. And then you say one more thing or do one more thing, and you manage to ratchet the level up even higher. Thereis always a new maximum, and my love for you is always at that highest level, but now I wonder if there is no end in sight of how much one can love.”
“I love the idea of endless, boundless love.”
“Let us return to the house and ask your uncle and aunt about these matters.” Elizabeth agreed, and they walked back down the hill and to the house even more quickly than their ascent.
Georgiana and Darcy both had tasks to attend to and orders to give in preparation for a long visit to Hertfordshire. Of course, Darcy wrote to Bingley again—he had not heard from him after his last letter, in which he admitted his mistake about Miss Jane Bennet’s feelings—and this letter asked his friend if he was in London or Hertfordshire, and indicated that he and Georgiana would love to stay at Netherfield Park if possible. He made another careful copy of the note and had each copy sent express: one to the Hursts’ London home and the other to Netherfield Park.
Considering the fact that his friend might be furious at him, given the lack of response to his earlier letter, Darcy also sent an express to the one inn in Meryton, securing several rooms for his party for two nights. He knew that he might need to look for another property to let if Netherfield was not an option.
Darcy then dove into his correspondence and, after that, several meetings. He was extremely pleased with James, who had already made a galley proof of the first issue of what he had decided to callThe Peak Report. Darcy reminded James that the newspaper was not Darcy’s, not Pemberley’s; it was to be totally independent, and Darcy had received word of twomore investors aside from himself. “More investors will follow; however, I chose you to be editor because I know your integrity. You will not twist facts and slant articles in favour of the investors.”
James was intensely pleased with the trust and responsibility shown to him, and he promised to get on with the newspaper without further check-ins with Darcy.
The next meeting was with Morris. That meeting was interrupted by Connors, who as usual knocked but did not, as always, wait for permission to enter. His breathless entry and gasping, “Sir!” brought both Darcy and Morris to their feet. Darcy was already moving out of the room when Connors managed to say, “The duke—the sundial section of the American garden?—”
Darcy ran; he heard Morris give Connors two orders and then followed.
When Darcy entered the garden, he saw Gardiner running towards Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner hurrying to her, as well, and nearly reaching her—and the duke grasping both of Elizabeth’s arms. He looked as if he were going to forcibly kiss her, but then as everyone rushed to save Elizabeth, she moved to save herself, lunging towards the duke and then dropping down to the ground vigorously. Somehow that broke his grasp, and she scooted back away from him.
Mrs Gardiner reached out and helped Elizabeth scramble up, and they both retreated further back several steps.
The duke looked as haughty as ever, as if his own behaviour had been courteous and Elizabeth’s questionable. “My word, Miss Bennet, what are you about?”
Gardiner reached Elizabeth shortly thereafter, and Darcy arrived only a moment after him. She was replying to the duke even as both of the men bristled over his rude tone and—worse,but expected—lack of apology. She murmured, “Excuse me, Your Grace. I just felt a bit faint.”
“Are you well?” Darcy turned away from the duke and inspected her as well as he could. He had no idea when the duke had arrived, and he wondered what he had said or done before Darcy had even been aware he was near.
Elizabeth said in a soothing tone, “I am well, now.”
Darcy whirled to face the duke again as he asked, “What do you mean, sir, to come onto my estate and, instead of properly applying to the butler for entry, then speaking with me before greeting my guests or strolling in my gardens—instead of that, you just sneak onto my land and into my gardens, and then somehow you have your hands on my intended?”
The duke actually laughed. Darcy waited, arms folded, staring at the man. Finally the duke had recovered enough to reply: “I attempted several times before this to meet your light skirt, Darcy, and you would not allow it. Apparently you are ever so anxious that I will show you for the prig that you are! Are you afraid she would break with you if I show her what pleasures arealman can offer?”
Darcy knew that duelling was illegal, and he believed that it was entirely stupid as well. How did one person injuring or killing another prove anyone’s guilt or innocence, or save anyone’s honour?
But at that moment, with his blood surging in his veins, his breath becoming swift and harsh, Darcy wanted nothing more than to call out the man who had called his Elizabeth a “light skirt.”
Gardiner stepped to Darcy’s side and simply put one hand on his arm. Darcy knew that the man must also be incensed with the duke, so he took it as a reminder to respond rationally rather than acting in anger.
It was hard to know what to do or say. The duke was almost universally despised locally, and most of the members of thetonknew him to be unpleasant and unprincipled. Darcy wished he knew whether or not the rumours of the man’s loss of wealth were true, but even if they were not, Darcy supposed he himself might have three or four times the yearly income of the duke, although nobody outside of his bankers knew it. But of course the duke did have the power of his title, and his family connexions were even higher than Darcy’s.
Elizabeth seemed to have no worries about power, wealth, and connexions. She said, “I am so puzzled. Is Mr Darcy a prig who does not know how to please a woman, or is he the kind of man who would associate with a woman with loose morals, one who might be called a ‘light skirt’? Could you please explain which idea you are espousing so that we may properly be offended?”
The duke seemed taken aback. His eyes shifted from Elizabeth, who smiled calmly, to Darcy, who frowned thunderously.
The duke opened his mouth, shut it again, and darted glances at the Gardiners, Morris, and the other servants who had gathered nearby.
Darcy said, “Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter. She is a lady in all ways, and she has better manners than either you or I; to use a term that suggests that she is anything less than a respectable gentlewoman is to tear down all women everywhere. I care not what you say of me, but do not use any further disparaging labels to refer to Miss Bennet.”
