Page 59 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Elizabeth will be so pleased with what I have done.

Having just arrived at Longbourn in company with his sister, Bingley, and Hadley, Darcy made the necessary introductions while looking about for Elizabeth.

With a wink of her eye, Mrs Bennet said, “If you are wondering about Lizzy’s whereabouts, she is out there on the lawn.” She pointed through the window. “She intends to teach Lydia and Kitty to properly play pall-mall.”

Thither Darcy went, content to leave his two friends and his sister in the sitting room with Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Mary, and their mother.

Rounding the corner of the house, a pretty picture greeted him—an unclouded sky, verdure, barn swallows darting about, creeping buttercups, common daisies, and three young women in summery gowns.

The instant Elizabeth espied him, she, mallet in hand and fire in her eyes, rushed in his direction.

Almost fearing for his life, Darcy—no coward, he—stood his ground but kept an eye on the long-handled wooden stick she wielded. A flush stained her cheeks, and he suspected she might have wept recently.

Coming to a halt, she gave his chest a powerful push. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Not the welcome I was expecting. “I might ask you the same question, madam,” said he, rubbing his sternum. “But, whatever I have done, I regret incurring your displeasure.” It sounded like a husbandly thing to say.

“Oh, you regret incurring my displeasure, do you? Displeasure is putting it mildly. I cannot recall having suffered any vexation equal to that which I experienced at eleven o’clock today when Papa told me what you did.”

Gently relieving the lady of her weapon, Darcy racked his brain. What had Mr Bennet said to cause such pique? Oh. Blast.

Darcy’s need for Elizabeth had become as vital as the need for air and sustenance, and the mere thought of losing her created a physical pain not unlike the first time she had spurned him or the time he had broken his arm.

Thinking it best to ascertain the cause before panicking, he said, “I assume you mean…” He had hoped she would complete the sentence; otherwise, he might put his foot in it by confessing to another transgression, if there had been one. She, however, was not obliging. Tread carefully, man. He cleared his throat, trying to delay that which could not be avoided. “You must mean…that thing I did.” He tossed the mallet aside with force. “At Oakwood.”

Watching the mallet’s trajectory, Elizabeth nodded. “You did not believe I could win the tournament on my own merit, did you?”

Cradling her chin with both hands, he turned her head and looked into her eyes. “Of course I did. You are a clever lady, my love. I had, have, every confidence in your abilities. I simply wanted to eliminate some of your competition, meaning me.”

“But Papa had the right of it. You withdrew from the tournament after winning my heart, knowing the prize would be yours either way.”

“The prize is you, Elizabeth. And it never was about winning or losing. It was about wishing to see you happy.” His heart broke at having caused sorrow instead. “When Monroe told me about the tournament, I dithered about even participating. In the end, I went to Oakwood thinking, if nothing else, the competition might, at least for a se’nnight, keep my mind off the woman I loved and had lost. And there you were.”

She backed away from his touch. “But…I thought I had won fair and square.”

He followed. “You did! Elizabeth, you solved the puzzles on your own, using your quick understanding and keen intelligence. You claimed the prize by unmitigated determination to do so. I witnessed the moment you pressed the button releasing that secret drawer. You triumphed. On your own.”

“If you were there, witnessing the moment of my so-called triumph, you must have solved the puzzle already. You knew the deed and key were in that particular clock.” She looked at the sky, at the ground, anywhere but at him. “And you just stood there and let me win.”

“It was my wish to give happiness to you and, through you, your family.” His voice lost some of its power. “Honestly, Elizabeth, I did it with the best of intentions.”

That she was not formed for ill-humour was a well-known fact, and Darcy hoped he was forgiven when her beautiful eyes turned his way and softened.

“Knowing what you did, how could Papa not have fallen to his knees in gratitude? How could he have treated you so cruelly? You saved Mama and my sisters from being forced into reduced circumstances. How can we ever thank you?”

Moving ever closer, he took her hand in his. “You saved them, my love. But, if you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. Your family owe me nothing. I thought only of you.”

He then expressed himself as passionately as a man violently in love can be supposed to do while under the watchful eyes of the two youngest Bennets. Gently, he peeled back the cuff of Elizabeth’s glove and placed a kiss upon her wrist.

Raucous laughter was not the response he had hoped to elicit. Scowling in Miss Lydia’s direction, he noticed Miss Catherine placing a hand over her own heart and closing her eyes. He even imagined he heard a sigh.

“Shall we walk, sir?”

“You are, indeed, a clever lady.” Darcy offered his arm.

Strolling round Longbourn’s park, he continued praising Elizabeth’s abilities. “…and I suspect your father encouraged knowledge through book learning.” He dared not utter it aloud, but he doubted Mrs Bennet had much of a hand in that regard. “I also suspect you learnt through observation and experience. But who was the person you looked to as an example to be imitated?”

Running her free hand across a juniper’s spiny needles, she said, “My Grandmama Bennet. Then, when that dear lady died, I took Aunt Gardiner—yes, a tradesman’s wife—as a model. Much as my grandmother had done, my aunt loves and supports her husband, is a good mother, an exemplary housekeeper and hostess, is charitable with her time, and remains patient and elegant while doing it all. I want to be that sort of woman…for you.”