Page 71 of To Win Her Affections

“No, I do not suppose it,” replied Bennet.

In Darcy’s manner he could see the reason Lizzy had cautioned him. This was a man as intelligent as any other Bennet had ever known. Though Bennet had no notion of sporting with him, he knew Lizzy was correct—he would not misunderstand, nor was he the sort to jest when there was serious business to be done.

“Rather,” said Bennet, deciding honesty would serve him best, “my inaction has put you in the position where you must take up the task of saving my silly daughter’s reputation. I am not insensible to the expense inherent in the undertaking.”

“Think nothing of it,” replied Darcy.

“Indeed, I think much of it, sir,” contradicted Bennet. “No man expects to start his married life by purchasing the reputation of the bride’s sister.”

“If Miss Bennet has told you anything of me, you know that I consider it a responsibility that I have not, until this moment, accepted. You suggested you are guilty of inaction—in that, we are equal, for my fault is the same. Had I denounced Wickham in the streets of Meryton, your daughter would never have trusted him enough to run away with him.”

Bennet snorted. “Perhaps you are correct. But the fact remains that you have undertaken a great deal for people who have very little claim upon you.”

“On the contrary, your daughter has a greater claim on me than you know.”

Silence fell over them as Bennet considered the man before him. Though he had not thought to study Darcy much before, Bennet found himself impressed by the man. He was a little severe to be certain, but if anyone could inject a little levity into a man’s life, it was Lizzy.

“Aye, that is the crux of the matter, I think.”

“Then we should turn our attention to it,” said Darcy.

“Yes, we should,” agreed Bennet. “I believe you have a question to ask of me, sir.”

“Yes, I do. As I have asked Miss Bennet for her hand in marriage and she has accepted, I now request your blessing for our union.”

Bennet grinned and decided a slight measure of teasing was not uncalled-for. “I noticed you used the word blessing instead of permission.”

“It seemed appropriate,” said Darcy, though Bennet could see he was not displeased. “She has told me herself that she is now of age.”

“She is at that!” said Bennet, shaking his head. “If you know something of her history, including a rather infamous morning she spent refusing my silly cousin Mr. Collins—several times, I might add—you know I will protect her ability to choose for herself. Lizzy has assured me that this is her decision, so I have nothing further to say. You have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bennet.”

“Not at all,” replied Bennet. “I am trusting my daughter’s judgment and respecting her wishes.”

Darcy nodded but grew introspective, fingers tapping on the desk. “I understand that you and Miss Elizabeth are particularly close.”

“We are,” said Bennet. “A father should not favor one child over another, but I confess Lizzy has a special place in my heart.”

This time, Darcy’s acknowledgement was decisive. “Please understand that my affection for your daughter is no sudden impulse—it has withstood the test of several months of suspense.”

Bennet did not restrain his amusement. “Last night, Lizzy told me something of it, so I understand something of the suspense, as you call it.”

“Perhaps, then, it is time we returned to the matter at hand.”

“I could not agree more.”

THE MOMENT HER FATHER and her betrothed retreated from the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam focused his attention on Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet,” said he, “I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am that you and Darcy have come to an understanding.”

“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, offering him a saucy reply. “Would you not wish for your cousin to find someone more of his sphere?”

The colonel chuckled, his glance at Mr. Gardiner looking for someone with whom to commiserate. Mr. Gardiner did not hesitate to oblige him.

“You have the right of it—Elizabeth is this way with everyone she meets. When she is introduced to your parents, she will not hesitate to use humor to disarm them.”

The colonel released a quiet laugh, but Elizabeth huffed and directed her not inconsiderable—though feigned—displeasure at them both. “If you please, I would not have you speak of me when I am here.”