Darcy found himself describing Elizabeth as he remembered her from their early acquaintance. Her fine eyes and the way they sparkled with intelligence. Her love of long walks. The way she sang and played the pianoforte with more spirit than polish. Her devotion to her sister Jane, demonstrated through that muddy walk to Netherfield.
“She is independent,” Darcy said, warming to his subject despite everything. “She speaks her mind freely, even when it would be more prudent to remain silent. She challenged me constantly, refused to be impressed by any of the things that usually command respect. She treated me simply as a man, not as a figure to be awed.”
Georgiana leaned forward, her tea forgotten. “She sounds wonderful. When will I meet her?”
“Soon,” Darcy promised. “We are to be married by special licence here in London. She will be staying with her aunt anduncle Gardiner in Gracechurch Street while preparations are made. Perhaps we might call on her there.”
“A wedding in London,” Georgiana said, her smile returning full force. “Oh, I can help with preparations. And Aunt Matlock will guide us, I am certain.”
They talked on, Georgiana asking questions and Darcy answering as best he could. What would Elizabeth wear? Would there be a wedding breakfast? Who would attend? Darcy found himself describing plans that Elizabeth had announced rather than discussed.
At one point, Georgiana asked if Elizabeth’s family would all attend, and Darcy had to explain that Mrs. Bennet’s enthusiasm had been rather overwhelming, that Mr. Bennet seemed bewildered, that the younger sisters would likely create chaos. Georgiana laughed at his descriptions, clearly delighted by the thought of a large, noisy family.
“It will be good for you,” Georgiana said with unexpected perception. “You have been too isolated, brother. Too accustomed to having your own way in everything. A wife who speaks her mind and a family who does not stand on ceremony will shake you out of your habits.”
The observation was accurate enough to make Darcy smile despite the discomfort. “You may be right. Though I confess I am not certain I am prepared for quite so much shaking.”
“You will manage,” Georgiana assured him, her confidence absolute. “You always do.”
As they moved into the dining room, Darcy found himself describing the Elizabeth he had fallen in love with rather than the woman who had accepted his proposal. The Elizabeth who had refused to dance with him at the Meryton assembly, who had nursed her sister with devoted attention, who had challenged his assumptions about class and consequence. ThatElizabeth felt real in a way the eager, compliant woman in Kent did not quite manage.
But he did not share these doubts with Georgiana. Did not speak of Anne’s warning or his own growing unease. His sister was too happy, too delighted at the prospect of gaining Elizabeth as a sister. Darcy would not shadow that joy with uncertainties he could not properly articulate.
Finally, Georgiana rose and kissed his cheek. “I am so happy for you, brother. So very happy. And I cannot wait to meet my new sister.”
She left him sitting alone in the dining room, and Darcy remained there long after her footsteps faded. The room had gone dark except for the last flickering flames, and in that darkness, his doubts seemed larger. He had committed himself to this marriage, had secured Mr. Bennet’s permission and told his sister the happy news. There was no honourable way to withdraw now.
And he did not want to withdraw, Darcy told himself firmly. He loved Elizabeth. Loved the woman she had been, at least. Perhaps the change in her manner was simply the natural result of accepting his suit. Perhaps all his doubts were nothing more than his own difficulty with change.
The fire collapsed into ash with a soft sound, and Darcy rose with a sigh. He must still visit the Matlocks and arrange for the special licence. Would set in motion the machinery that would make Elizabeth Bennet his wife. And somewhere in that process, surely, his certainty would return.
Surely.
Matlock House occupied a prominent position on one of Mayfair’s most fashionable streets, its Portland stone façade gleaming pale in the lamplight. Darcy’s carriage stopped before the entrance at half past nine. The butler showed no surprise at his arrival, merely took his hat and gloves and led him up the marble stairs to the first floor drawing room.
The room embodied elegant restraint, decorated in shades of cream and gold. His aunt sat near the fire with her embroidery, while his uncle occupied his favourite chair with a book and a glass of port. They both looked up as Darcy entered, their expressions shifting from mild surprise to welcome.
“Darcy,” Lord Matlock said, setting aside his book and rising. He was a man in his late fifties, his hair more grey than dark now. “This is unexpected. We thought you still in Kent.”
“I returned to London this evening,” Darcy replied, accepting his uncle’s handshake. He moved to kiss his aunt’s cheek, noting the way her sharp eyes studied his face with concern.
“Sit,” Lady Matlock said, gesturing to a nearby chair. “You look tired, dear boy. Shall I ring for refreshment?”
“Thank you, no. I have just come from my own house.” Darcy settled into the offered chair. There was no point in delaying. “I have come to share some news. I have become engaged to be married.”
The silence that followed lasted perhaps three seconds but felt considerably longer. Lord Matlock’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline, while Lady Matlock’s embroidery slipped from her fingers. They stared at him with identical expressions of shock.
“Engaged,” Lord Matlock repeated. “To whom?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Longbourn in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said, keeping his voice level. “She is the second daughter of Mr. Bennet, a gentleman with a small estate. I met her last autumn at Netherfield, and again more recently in Kent.”
Lady Matlock recovered first, her surprise giving way to cautious pleasure. “The young lady you mentioned to us at Christmas? The one you described with such particular attention?”
“Yes,” Darcy admitted with a wince. He and Georgiana had spent Christmas Day with the Matlocks, and Darcy had imbibed perhaps a little more than he should of his uncle’s excellent port. He did not recall everything about the conversation, but clearly he had let slip more than he would have wished to about Elizabeth Bennet and the way she had captured his interest.
“Well,” Lady Matlock said, and a smile began to form. “This is wonderful news, Darcy. Quite unexpected, but wonderful nonetheless. When did this occur?”
“I proposed two days ago in Kent, and she accepted. Today, I called on her father to request his permission, which he granted.”
