Elizabeth felt the intensity of his gaze. She coloured, barely conscious of her surroundings. “Mr. Darcy?” She could hardly speak.
“When we first met, I knew not your name, but I found myself unable to keep my eyes from you—captivated as theywere by yours. Then, in Ireland, I came to think ofBennetas a brother—as close to me as my cousin Richard. Someone with whom I could share my innermost thoughts and concerns—Bennetlightened my heart, knowing that Pemberley and Georgiana were in safe hands.
”Mrs. Elizabeth… You are everything that I have ever wished for—my closest, truest friend. Elizabeth, dearest, I admire, respect, and love you with all my heart. Will you do me the very great honour of being my wife?”
There was a time for wit and a time for solemnity—both were eclipsed by the heartfelt joy that overwhelmed Elizabeth, an intensity of emotion she had never felt before. She gazed into his eyes—were there truly flecks of gold? She breathed deeply, leaning up, shyly kissing his cheek. Oh, this is too much happiness. She already knew the answer before she spoke the words: “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I will gladly be your wife.”
They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects.
“Oh dear,” said Elizabeth suddenly, “Lady Jersey will be most displeased.”
Darcy laughed, taking her hand in his. “Not at all. She wrote to me that, ifMrs. ElizabethBennetwere to change her name toMrs. Elizabeth Darcy, then she would still retain her position as partner at Child & Co.; and perhaps, if she were to be in London during the season, then as a patroness of Almack’s, she might acquire consequence sufficient even for a Darcy.”
Elizabeth stared at him in horror: was she the only one who had not known of her love for him?
“She taught me to hope,” said Darcy, as they turned back towards the house, “as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. That you would not be forced to choose betweenmyself and beingyourself, a woman of great competence, esteemed by the highest levels of society.”
“No, sir, there was never any competition. Pemberley has a siren call I cannot resist—as I cannot resist the call of its master. Truly, Fitzwilliam, you have my heart and more besides.”
* * *
They continued in quiet, joyful conversation until they reached the house and ascended the stairs hand in hand. Winthrop opened the door, a small smile on his lips when Darcy did not relinquish Elizabeth’s hand as they stepped into the hall.
“There are visitors, sir, ma’am. Waiting in the drawing-room. Lady Catherine and Miss Darcy are with them.”
Upon entering the room, they saw Mrs. Younge sitting opposite her ladyship and Georgiana. Wickham, who had been sitting next to her, stood immediately.
Before Darcy could speak, Wickham held out his hand to Mrs. Younge, who, slightly embarrassed, arose and stood next to him.
“May I introduce my wife, Mrs. Wickham… Mrs. Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy.”
The lady curtseyed, and Elizabeth, seeing the awkwardness of the introduction, immediately stepped forward. “Mrs. Wickham,” said she, “you have my sincerest congratulations. Mr. Wickham, the lady does you great honour.”
Wickham chuckled. “We came to thank you, Mrs. Elizabeth, for without your assistance, I fear I would have lost my dear Mrs. Wickham to another, for she truly is a treasure.”
“George, indeed a surprise,” said Darcy, bowing to the lady, and stepping forward to shake Wickham’s hand. “I trust the lady is not scatterbrained having accepted your hand? Oh, myapologies, Mrs. Wickham, but I have known Wickham since we were breeched.”
“What a tender reunion,” said Lady Catherine, drily. “Georgiana has called for tea—perhaps something a little stronger is appropriate. Elizabeth, if you don’t mind, dear, I will take a sherry—Mrs. Wickham, what is your preference?”
“Tea will suit me perfectly, your ladyship,” the lady replied, seating herself. “It is so strange to come to the house as a married woman, and not as Miss Darcy’s companion.”
Darcy offered Wickham a port and waited until the footman had poured for them. As was Elizabeth’s habit, she decanted sherry for both Lady Catherine and herself.
Darcy looked querulously at Elizabeth. “When I departed for Ireland, you were Georgiana’s companion, Mrs. Younge—and now Mrs. Wickham. There is a story here of which I am unaware.”
Elizabeth spoke up, interrupting before Wickham could reply. “I must own it, Mr. Darcy,” she said, “that as Mr. Wickham alluded, I do have some small part to play in this courtship. If the gentleman will allow me, I shall speak of it, then he can recount his part, for I suspect it is a tale worth telling.”
Wickham nodded his assent.
“I shall be brief,” said Elizabeth, “for there are details of which Mr. Darcy will most likely wish to apprise himself later. You may recall, Fitzwilliam, your father’s will bequeathing Mr. Wickham one thousand pounds and the living at Kympton. As you know, Mr. Wickham had not taken orders, so was eligible for the alternative bequest, a portfolio of shares worth three thousand pounds.”
Darcy began to see where the story might lead. “Please continue, Elizabeth. There is a strange connection here, which I am not sure I wish to hear.”
Elizabeth smiled, taking his hand. “Never fear, sir, your fortune is safe with me—though, perhaps, I should seek more pin-money.”
Both Lady Catherine and Georgiana were looking at her strangely. It was not Mr. Wickham’s story that had them confused, but Elizabeth holding Darcy’s hand, and her calling himFitzwilliam. There was an ease and playfulness in their manner which they had not seen before.
“You have guessed it,” continued Elizabeth, “the shares were those of Royal Canal stock, which your father had purchased in 1789. They were lost, and Mr. Wickham never received them. Of course, with the company likely bankrupt, they are, for all intents, worthless. Except, the call should have been made against Mr. Wickham, being the rightful owner. Which leaves the £184,500 loan from Child & Co. in legal limbo. The sum is to be paid out by Parliament, but to whom: to Child & Co., to whom Pemberley was pledged against the sum; to Mr. Wickham, who owns the shares; to the Royal Canal Company itself, for the money was given to them to complete the canal? The legal costs alone, and the interest… It would take years to resolve the matter, draining Pemberley’s coffers, even though, no doubt, the outcome would be decided in Pemberley’s favour. It seemed prudent to make good on Mr. Darcy’s bequest. As agent acting for yourself and Child & Co., I offered Mr. Wickham £3,000 for the shares, plus interest at the four percents. Graciously, he accepted the offer. Thus it was settled—the loan will be repaid, making Lady Jersey happy, Pemberley is safe, for which I am exceedingly grateful, and Mr. Wickham, if I may be impertinent, had wealth enough to make Mrs. Younge an offer.”
