Darcy moved his eyes over her, looking for some item she wore that might need to be added or improved, some acquisition she required, but there was nothing he could name. To his eyes, she needed no change in clothes or ornament or anything at all.
They were looking at one another, both on the sofa with their heads leant back and tilted toward each other. They were both weary after days of absurd calls, but it was a shared trial, and therefore, it felt bearable. He looked at her expressive face, very near to his own, and wondered if she felt the same sort of admiration for him that he felt when he looked at her.
He realised they had been staring at one another for a long while when Elizabeth shyly dropped her eyes and stood. “I think I will put your generosity to good use and take a footman to the shops tomorrow morning, since you kindly gave us a reprieve from wedding visits.”
Darcy watched her go, already missing her company. It was curious to feel so completely bound up in a person one had known so short a time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darcy spent two hours with attorneys the following day, and after they were gone, his footman entered the library to say there had been a caller. He felt dread at the renewal of more wedding visits.
“No, he said to tell you a man called on business,” the footman answered.
Darcy stood in alarm. “Was it a man named Wickham? About my age, fair hair like yours, a little shorter than you, blue eyes?” He might have added “a devious look and an air that he thought the world owed him something.” He hired most of the servants for the season when he opened the house, and not everyone knew Wickham by sight.
“No, sir. An older man. He said he would come back in a few hours. He did not leave his name.”
Darcy wondered who it might have been, and read in his library while he waited for Elizabeth to come home or for the caller to return. When he heard a carriage draw up, he looked to the window and was disappointed it was not his own bringing Elizabeth back. He wanted her approval on the financial arrangements he had made for her.
The door soon opened, and his footman showed in a man of about fifty. “Mr Bennet, sir.”
Darcy’s disappointment changed instantly to alarm, and a rush of guilt flooded him. All the world might only lift their eyes at his running off with a young lady without fortune or consequence, but not the lady’s father. Everything in his guest’s sharp gaze said he was being assessed, and thus far, he was found wanting.
Darcy composed his feelings and bowed. What did a son-in-law say on meeting his wife’s father for the first time, after he had eloped with her?
Mr Bennet spared him the necessity of speaking and said, “Well, now. Here is the young man who tempted my most sensible daughter into folly.”
He would not confess to anyone the true nature of his marriage. “I deeply regret themannerin which I married your daughter, and I am equally sorry our first meeting took place after our marriage and not before. Both of you deserved better.” He gestured to the chairs to invite his guest to sit, a little afraid Mr Bennet would refuse any courtesy from him.
“Do you regret it?” he asked in a satirical tone as he sat. “From what I hear from Ramsgate and the scandal pages, you are not the sort of man to be denied anything, given your wealth and your family name.”
“There is much that I regret about the manner by which I was wed, but I did not coerce Elizabeth.”
“I should hope not, but that remains to be seen. My sister-in-law once lived in a village near your home and writes to say your family has a good character, and adds you might be a little proud. Lizzy’s two letters tell me she respects you, but she scarcely knows you.”
Darcy was so taken aback at being called to task that he wondered for a moment who “Lizzy” was. He had only ever thought of her as Elizabeth.
He would have to suffer himself to be judged. He had lured this man’s daughter from her friends and stole her away to Scotland, according to Mr Bennet.
“We married quickly, but it was sincerely done. We have a great deal of admiration for one another, and when Elizabeth returns, she can reassure you herself.”
“My wife says you have ten thousand a year. In her narrow mind, nothing else matters.” Mr Bennet sighed, taking in the room. “Mrs Bennet is not a sensible woman, Mr Darcy. Lizzy implies you are a clever man, so you must have known my wife was silly when you met her in Ramsgate.”
Mr Bennet waited for him to agree, but disparaging his mother-in-law would be in poor taste. “I had the pleasure of meeting her, as well as your two youngest daughters.”
His father-in-law laughed like he knew what Darcy was doing. He wore a knowing expression he had seen on Elizabeth’s face more than once. But her father’s look was more jaded whereas Elizabeth’s had held amusement. “A pleasure, was it? Mrs Bennet is good at few things other than fancying herself nervous and gossiping.”
At that moment, Darcy was certain there could be two kinds of husbands. Ones who mocked and complained about their wives, and ones who would never say a disapproving thing about her. One was a weak man, and in that moment Darcy knew what manner of husband he would be. Regardless of what he thought, what quarrel they had, what Elizabeth ever said or did, he would not be a husband like Mr Bennet.
“Is your wife worried about the talk surrounding our marriage? That is why Elizabeth and I returned to town as soon as we did, and why we did not visit you immediately. We are demonstrating to the world we have nothing to be ashamed of.” Maybe he ought to prove to Mr Bennet he was not a negligent husband. “We married suddenly, but I can show you what I will settle on your daughter.” Darcy rose to retrieve the drafts on the other side of the room.
“Mr Darcy, you have ten thousand a year. I am not worried that Lizzy or her children will be homeless when you die. I am worried about the respectability of you both before you do. You may have convinced the world that you fell in love in a week and ran off together, but you will not convince me this was a whirlwind romance.”
Mr Bennet had a quick eye, and Darcy sat back in his chair with rising alarm.
“Let me tell you what I think happened in Ramsgate. My wife may be good for very little, and she writes long letters I dislike replying to—but I read them. She confided in me how my youngest and most foolish daughter avoided a scrape with a scoundrel of a man. Mrs Bennet then spent two pages recounting the gossip in Ramsgate that included howyoursister”—he pointed—“disappeared only to be mentioned in the papers a week later that she had run off to Scotland with the same man Lydia fancied herself attached to.”
There would be no convincing Mr Bennet it was a coincidence. Darcy kept silent and let him continue.
