Page 86 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

Relief flooded him; he opened the gate. They walked together along the field path, the horse trailing behind.

And Darcy said what he had come to say. “I love you. I wish to marry none but you, but I will not press my suit if you do not wish it. One word from you, and I will never speak of it again.” Elizabeth listened with her eyes on the path, her hands still clasped behind her back. Every passing second increased his suspense. “Will you—” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Will you allow me to court you?”

Finally, she spoke. “I would very much like to see if I am able to love Fitzwilliam Darcy as much as I love Daniel Robinson.” Darcy’s heart swelled in his chest so much he feared it might burst with joy.

They fell into step together. Before they had reached the next turn in the path, they had fallen into conversation. She told him of her parents’ scuffle leading to the revelation of the falsified contract, of her mother’s newfound determination to oversee her father in all things involving their estate. He told her about the tenants he had met, how Pemberley had changed, and how it remained exactly the same. Before they had caught up, they had arrived at Longbourn.

Johnny Tibbs took Darcy’s horse with a gap-toothed grin, and Mrs. Bennet received him in the drawing room with all the warmth of a hostess welcoming a long-lost friend. “You will stay for dinner?” she inquired.

“I thank you, Mrs. Bennet. I am staying at the inn⁠—”

“You will stay for dinner.” She nodded firmly, decisively, ringing for Mrs. Hill and issuing instructions for the addition of an extra plate at the table for that evening’s meal. In the same breath, she apologized that she must soon depart for a meeting with Mr. Philips in Meryton.

Mr. Bennet appeared then, dressed to accompany his wife to the village. He looked at Darcy, who met his gaze. It was not a comfortable moment, but it was, Darcy thought, an honest one.

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said, “I regret my behavior toward you.”

“You sought to protect your daughter.” As he spoke, Darcy could not help but remember kissing Elizabeth in the hall.

Mr. Bennet held up his hand. “I was protecting my own interests and calling it paternal concern. The difference is significant.” There was no self-pity in his demeanor, which Darcy respected. With his apology delivered, Mr. Bennet relaxed into his usual humor. “You will find the household rather more organized than when you last saw it. Mrs. Bennet has… opinions.” He looked at his wife, who blushed and swatted his hand with her fan.

“We are glad you came back, Mr. Darcy,” she said.

Miss Mary joined them, followed by Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia, all with bonnets and gloves on. Tapping her sisters gently on their shoulders and nodding in Elizabeth’s direction, Miss Mary observed, “A lady allows the gentleman to express his interest, not the other way around.” Miss Bennet made no appearance.

Not even when Darcy saw a carriage roll into the drive.

From the window, he observed none other than Richard descend from the conveyance with considerable difficulty, attempting to manage a large object wrapped in traveling blankets that required both arms and all his attention. Darcy blinked. Surely, that was not what he thought it was! He was on his feet and at the door before Hill could announce the colonel.

“Oh dear, the drawing room is crowded,” proclaimed Mrs. Bennet with a sharp look at her husband.

“That is my cue to bid our adieu. Mr. Philips is expecting us. Pray forgive us, but we hope both you gentlemen will agree to join us for dinner. I trust that Mrs. Bennet has already made arrangements?”

The Bennets departed—except, of course, for Elizabeth—and before the globe was unwrapped in the center of the drawing room and Richard had adequately complained about the state of the roads between Derbyshire and Hertfordshire, Hill announced the arrival of Miss Lucas. Elizabeth sent for more tea, and the four of them settled around the globe.

“Miss Lucas,” Richard said, “I had not expected to find you here.”

“I call frequently,” Miss Lucas replied. “Longbourn is only twelve minutes on foot from Lucas Lodge.”

“Twelve minutes. Is it?”

“In good weather. Fourteen in poor.”

“Fascinating,” Richard said, in a tone that suggested he found it genuinely so. Darcy would have rolled his eyes at his cousin had he not been keenly aware of his similar behavior when he was near Elizabeth.

Elizabeth watched the globe. “Daniel Robinson. Robinson Crusoe? By Daniel Defoe?” How quickly she caught on!

“It was my favorite book as a child. I had read it four times before my father noticed and ordered me to diversify my reading.” Darcy ran one finger along the meridian. “Richard gave me the nickname Robbie.”

Richard nodded proudly. “It suits you. You made a life out of nothing, much like Robinson Crusoe.”

“Show me where you were,” Elizabeth asked.

He traced the route from England to Lisbon to Lyon, south to the Mediterranean coast, east to Smyrna, north again to Vienna. He showed her the ports he had known and the cities he had loved and the coastline where he had learned to swim.

“It opens,” Richard said, from the other side of the globe, without looking up from his tea.

Darcy closed his eyes briefly. “Thank you, Richard.”