Page 42 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
But the happier thought of being able to assure Elizabeth of her father’s approval took precedence, and he hurried to find his beloved.
Chapter 25
Elizabeth
Elizabeth turned to face Jane and Mr. Bingley. “Is everything…well, Lizzy?” Jane asked.
She smiled in reply, wondering if she should attempt to keep Mr. Darcy’s request quiet until her father had weighed in. But then she worried that her romantic sister might assume that it was a marriage proposal. She hastened to answer, “Yes, everything is wonderful. Mr. Darcy had asked me for a formal courtship.”
Jane squealed and hugged her; Mr. Bingley said, “Yes, I knew he wanted to wait to ask until you were no longer staying at Netherfield. I am so happy that you are happy with his address, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I should go in, to wait for him; Jane, do you think you and Mr. Bingley can look in on the younger set, to ensure that Miss Darcy is happily engaged?”
Having been given promises that they would do so, Elizabeth hurried to the house and took a seat in the parlour. Of course her mother began to ask prying questions, but Elizabeth simply declaimed knowledge of what Mr. Darcy was speaking to her father. She took up a sewing project and worried.
More often than she wished, her father was given to caprice. He was capable of serious thought and intelligent responses to queries, but he frequently utilised sarcasm instead, especially if a situation gave rise to his insecurities. She hoped that he would not spoil everything by turning Mr. Darcy away from her.
Elizabeth was certain that, on the basis of his family name alone, let alone his fortune and estates, Mr. Darcy had the respect of pretty much everyone in society, from low to high. From things that the Bingleys had said, it seemed that far richer and more consequential gentlemen than her father consistently treated him with the greatest regard. And from what she had seen of him, especially during the Netherfield fire and its aftermath, Mr. Darcy routinely earned respect from strangers and servants because of his competence and generosity. Such a man very likely would take umbrage if a country squire responded to a serious request with mockery.
But the moment that Mr. Darcy returned to the parlour, Elizabeth relaxed. He was smiling, and he gave her a little nod even as he came straight to her side. He sat in a ladder-back chair next to her more comfortable Windsor chair and said softly, “Your father gave us his approval.”
She smiled and murmured in reply, “And I apologise with all sincerity for his undoubtedly sardonic questions and statements. Will you tell me what reprehensible utterances you have had to endure?”
Mr. Darcy replied with an enigmatic smile, “Well, other than referring to me as an uninvited guest and an unwanted interruption, he did mention, after I had waxed eloquently about your charms, that he should disapprove my suit and wait for addresses from a duke.”
Elizabeth blushed. That was even worse than she had feared. She muttered, “Sir, I fear I must repeat my apologies: I am deeply sorry and wholly embarrassed that he has acted sopoorly. How in the world you did not rush away to wash your hands of my family, I will never know.”
Mr. Darcy turned to face her. “Dearest one, I could never wish to rush away from you, nor turn away from you, nor wash my hands of you. Nor your family, who will soon, I hope, be my own.”
Mrs. Bennet spoke up, “Are you two cooking up a surprise of some sort?”
Elizabeth went over to her mother and said calmly, “Mama, Mr. Darcy has asked for a courtship, and I have said yes, and my father has given his approval as well.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and took the opportunity to whisper, “Please do not show too much excitement or fuss over Mr. Darcy. He is shy and dislikes being the centre of attention, and I do not wish us to scare him off.”
As she pulled away from her mother, she saw her excitement; her eyes shifted back and forth from Mr. Darcy to her, dancing with delight, and her smile grew even as a few giggles escaped her. However, her mother managed to say only a few praises of Mr. Darcy and only a couple of gushes about how wonderful his estate must be.
In other words, her mother was mortifying, but much less so than Elizabeth had feared.
Elizabeth resumed her chair near Mr. Darcy and asked, “The colonel did not come today. Has he left for London?”
“Yes, actually, and he will travel farther than that. To Cornwall, in fact, to check on an old acquaintance, John Withers.” He looked sharply at Elizabeth, obviously wondering if she had caught his meaning: his cousin was investigating how Mr. Wickham had fooled his people as to his whereabouts. Possibly he was also investigating his people; had someone been bribed or otherwise worked on to lie about the wicked man’s comings and goings?
Elizabeth nodded to show she understood. She said, “I hope your aunt is faring well. Do you suspect you will get news about the colonel’s mother soon?”
Still speaking almost in code, Elizabeth was not asking in concern about a virus or infection, but rather about gossip.
“I hope I might,” Mr. Darcy replied.
Elizabeth’s mother looked far too engaged with their conversation. “Is your aunt ill, Mr. Darcy?”
“No, it is just that she has been having some difficulties with servants,” he replied.
Elizabeth smirked. That answer was very clever, technically truthful yet still misleading. The fact was that much of the spread of gossip was due to servants. But she decided that she had had enough of coded speeches.
She stood up and announced her desire to check in with Miss Darcy. Of course, Mr. Darcy rose as well and escorted her outside. They found everyone—even Jane and Mr. Bingley—enjoying the antics of six playful kittens. Elizabeth picked up a particularly darling black-and-white striped kitten and used it as an excuse to stand close to Mr. Darcy as they passed the charming creature back and forth, murmuring endearments that may or may not have referenced each other as well as their new feline friend.
The next day,Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived at Longbourn with concerned expressions. Mr. Darcy held a packet of papers in his hand and explained that it was an express from the colonel.
“We need to talk about a sensitive topic,” Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth in a low voice. “Is your father’s study soundproof? Or is there another room that is?"
