Darcy looked carefully and at once understood. He turned towards the colonel with a look of gratitude.
“The bride arrives last,” he said, and the colonel inclined his head.
“Precisely; all will already be within the church—only you and she will remain.”
“And Mr Bennet, at the door, will see us. If she decides—”
Darcy broke off; it was hard to speak. Until that moment, he had scarcely believed he would go through with it, yet now that he was resolved, uncertainty was agony. Would Elizabeth refuse him a second time? She had every reason. Who would not? Why had he not acted sooner—before she had been forced to decide, before she had accepted another, before this public humiliation of a man who did not deserve it?
“Darcy, Miss Elizabeth loves you. I saw it plainly at Netherfield.”
“I know…but is she capable of doing what I could not—of breaking an engagement?”
“You have but one chance—to wait here and speak to her, unseen by others. What comes after, you must face as it arrives.”
Sheltered beneath two venerable trees on the opposite side of the lane from the churchyard, they watched as, one by one, the guests began to appear—relatives, acquaintances, strangers. Then Mr Clinton arrived, and Darcy’s heart tightened, assailed by every feeling at once: fear of losing her, shame, and remorse for what he was about to do to this honourable man.
For one brief instant, he was ready to return to the carriage and go home. But the colonel was there precisely to prevent such retreat.
Soon, Mr Bennet appeared and remained before the church door. After a while, no one else came, and they knew the bride’s carriage must be near. Darcy’s heart beat wildly; he set his palms against the tree, as though seeking its strength for the ordeal before him.
At last, they saw a carriage ascending the road; Mr Bennet left his place and moved towards the gate. Darcy’s breath camehard, yet his decision was taken. He stepped from their shelter and advanced towards the carriage as it drew to a halt.
From it descended Miss Mary first, and then Elizabeth, who, upon seeing him, almost stumbled in surprise. He moved instinctively to assist her, under the astonished gaze of Miss Mary and Mr Bennet, who was already approaching.
“Mr Darcy!” cried Elizabeth, startled. “What are you doing here?”
Mr Bennet came close, as if to shield his daughters. Though at first Darcy would rather he had not been present, in a flash, he understood that the father might bear his message to the bridegroom, should Elizabeth consent to end the engagement.
“I wish to speak with you,” he said firmly.
“Now?” Elizabeth glanced at her sister and then at her father.
“Yes, now. There will be no other moment in which to tell you that I am free—my betrothed has released me—that I love you desperately, and I have come to ask you to be my wife.”
“Now?” repeated Elizabeth, glancing towards the church where Mr Gardiner had already stepped out to see what was amiss.
“Now—before it is too late,” answered Darcy. “When else could I ask you this?”
“After the ceremony?” said Elizabeth, in that tone he adored—half-ironic, half-playful.
“After the ceremony,” he murmured faintly. “When you are another man’s wife—what purpose would there be in asking you to be mine?”
The three Bennets looked at one another in astonishment. Then Mary laid a hand upon his arm, as though to steady him.
“Mr Darcy,” she said gently, “I am the bride—and you are preventing me from reaching my own wedding.”
She then turned to Mr Bennet. “Papa, I am ready.” And they departed, leaving behind a man in shock and a woman in happiness.
Then Elizabeth turned towards him. “Fitzwilliam, you may close your mouth now,” she said with a radiant smile not wholly free from irony. Darcy had not, in truth, stood with his mouth open, yet his entire countenance gave that impression.
Confronted with such unexpected happiness, he recovered himself at once. “I shall close it only after you have answered my question.”
“Here?” Elizabeth looked about in astonishment for help. But Mr Bennet and Mary were already at some distance. Luckily, she perceived the colonel watching from afar, endeavouring to comprehend what was taking place. She waved to him, asking without words that he should join them. He covered the few yards almost at a run; yet seeing her remain with Darcy was an excellent sign, and he wished most sincerely to share in their joy.
“Here,” Darcy answered, looking deep into her eyes. “Right here, before Richard himself, that I may have witnesses.”
“Witnesses to an engagement? I never heard of such a thing, but since it is the colonel, I accept.”
