Elizabeth shook her head, as if to signify that the explanation was not easily given. “Mr Darcy advised a friend not to marry…my sister Jane.”
“What friend?”
“Mr Bingley. He suggested to Mr Bingley that Jane’s affection was insufficient.”
“Fitzwilliam—is this true?” Lady Matlock asked, not in disbelief, but in the manner of a mother reproving her son.
“Yes, it is true. It was a mistaken decision, born of arrogance…of insufficiently or inadequately observing the people around me.”
“And what part had Richard?” she asked, turning to Elizabeth.
“The colonel told me a story, without naming the persons concerned. I believe at first he did not know them himself; yet it was clear to me who they were. In time, we spoke of it often—he and I—and we concluded that Mr Darcy had been in error, andthat it was an ill-judged action which blighted the happiness of two people.”
“Is it true—do they have no hope together?” Lady Matlock wanted to know.
“For months they suffered—both of them—and I am certain that the colonel advised Mr Bingley to follow his heart rather than the counsel of others.”
“My dear Richard—” Lady Matlock inclined her head. “I see: Fitzwilliam would be the last man Richard would heed in a matter of heart, ladies or intentions.”
The pain in her voice was such that Mary moved to sit beside her upon the settee, offering what comfort she could, while Elizabeth went to Darcy, who stood at the window. The gesture was one of unmistakable forgiveness.
“What are we to do?” Lady Matlock asked, and a silence fell. “So this is why you have been so angered—you knew that Richard would refuse your advice.”
“Yes. I am angry with myself for interfering in Bingley’s life. It caused so much misery, and now, in this present matter, I am powerless. I am his closest friend, yet he would not believe me—not even with the letter in hand.”
“But he would believe me!” Elizabeth suddenly said, with such conviction that all turned towards her. “Yes—he would believe me. He knows me, and our understanding is strong enough for him to accept the proofs and to consider them.”
“But how can you reach him? He is two days away, and in a month it may be too late.” Lady Matlock’s tone held doubt, yet also the spark of a new hope.
“I shall go to Eastbourne with my uncle Gardiner, if need be.”
“Bless you, child!” Lady Matlock rose and embraced her warmly.
“Marry me,” Darcy said, and the three ladies turned to him in astonishment. “Yes—marry me, and we shall go together.”
“Fitzwilliam!” cried her ladyship. “This is neither the place—in public—nor the motive to propose to a lady.”
“It is not so very public,” Darcy replied, with a pale smile, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. “As for the motive—there is only one: I love her beyond reason.”
“It is most improper. I trust Miss Elizabeth will forgive you in time. Come, Miss Mary, let us take a walk.”
“No, pray remain. I require your assistance,” Darcy said, at last turning from Elizabeth to his aunt.
“You require me? And for what? To persuade the lady?”
“I am already persuaded, your ladyship,” Elizabeth answered, and she saw Darcy’s breath escape in quiet relief.
“Then what is it you ask of me?”
“I would have you go to the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Palace and obtain an extraordinary licence. I wish to marry Elizabeth before Lord Matlock returns, and travel to Eastbourne as husband and wife.”
“You are quite unwell in your reasoning, my boy. Have you ever known His Grace Charles Manners-Sutton to grant such a licence in a single day?”
“In fact, I have—to the Duke of Cambridge.”
“Yes—years ago, when the duke was dying of his wounds, and his final wish was to marry Lady Margaret Watsonville.”
“Then tell him the truth. He is a clergyman and must keep the matter secret. Say that only Miss Elizabeth Bennet can preserve the country from defeat at the hands of Napoleon.”
