Page 46 of To Love And To Cherish
“Darcy, what did you say?”
“I said,” Darcy replied mildly, “that Mr. Collins had his sights set on Miss Jane Bennet.”
“You cannot be serious,” Bingley said, horrified. “That, that pompous man?”
Darcy lifted a brow. “The same. He expressed interest over drinks at his welcome dinner. How did you miss it? Though, in fairness, you were likely lost in dreams of Miss Bennet while the rector was detailing his plans for the future.”
Bingley narrowed his eyes. “Why did you not tell me?”
Darcy looked guileless. “I was unaware I needed to. Are you of a mind to marry Miss Bennet?”
Bingley hesitated. “What if I am?”
“Then I should offer you my congratulations,” Darcy said, lowering his paper. “You cannot find a finer woman in all of England. She is gentle, gracious, and the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen, and not a trace of vanity about her. It’s as though she has no idea she’s the most angelic creature to grace a ballroom.”
Bingley nodded, nearly glowing. “Yes! That’s exactly it. She’s an angel. Didn’t I say that to you the very first night I danced with her?”
Darcy mentally groaned,Yes, yes. Along with every other woman you've ever danced with who had symmetrical features and a fine figure.
But aloud, Darcy said, “Now that you mention it, yes. I do recall.”
He also recalled that it was the night he insulted Jane’s sister in front of the entire assembly and received the full force of Elizabeth’s wrath.Ireally must learn to keep my mouth shut.
Bingley leaned forward. “Darcy, I do love Jane. I know it’s been only a few weeks, but the more time I spend with her, the more deeply I fall. And usually, by this point, a beautiful woman starts to show her claws. Or horns. Or worse.”
Darcy grinned. “Claws, horns, and if she’s truly diabolical, teeth.”
Bingley gave a mock shudder. “Precisely!”
“But in truth,” Darcy continued, sobering, “Miss Bennet becomes more admirable the better one knows her. I have only met one other woman of whom I can say the same.”
He caught himself just in time. Elizabeth’s name nearly escaped his lips. When, precisely, had she gone from a bright-eyed girl in muddy petticoats to a woman who haunted his thoughts like a siren in a Grecian myth, drawing hapless gentlemen into her orbit?
Darcy shook himself. He was grateful she had gone to Scotland. The further away she was, the safer his equilibrium. If only his heart would agree to recover accordingly.
“Charles,” he said briskly, “what will it be? Shall you offer for Miss Bennet, or let the heir of Longbourn snatch her away over toast and tea?”
Bingley stared. “Darcy, should I step aside? I mean, I’ve no estate. My wealth is closely tied to trade. I’m still part owner of the wool mill.”
Darcy nearly groaned.Here we go.
"She is the daughter of a gentleman," he said firmly, "and you shall soon possess an estate of your own. Her uncle is in trade, so she is unlikely to look down on your partnership in the woolmill. It does not signify. And if you worry that she brings no dowry, let me assure you, she brings herself. She is the dowry. You will never regret such a match. She comes without claws, horns, wings, or teeth poised to rip your heart out while it is still beating.”
Bingley leaned forward. “You really think so?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Yes,” Bingley said at once. “That time with the Spanish boots.”
“That was one time.”
“They pinched.”
“They were dashing.”
“They were agony.”
Darcy waved a hand. “Irrelevant. The point stands, Miss Bennet is worth more than any twenty-five-thousand-pound settlement. She is goodness and grace and beauty, and if you do not propose to her soon, Mr. Collins may simply outlast you by sheer persistence.”
