Page 165 of Companions of Their Youth
He fell silent, and Darcy raised his eyebrows. “It could not have been easy to come up with answers.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “No, indeed. Lizzy has always been the brightest of all the girls. I did my best to explain things as I understood them.”
Darcy leaned forward, hands clasped loosely between his knees. “She is who she is because of it.”
He looked up, voice steadier. “Her grace. Her conviction. Her refusal to let anyone be cast out as less worthy. That compassion was shaped by loving you.”
“She had… many questions. About faith. Salvation. Sin. I do not pretend to know how I will be judged—I did not have all the answers then, nor do I now. But I do not believe God has turned His face from me.”
“I do not believe He has either,” Darcy said quietly.
They sat in silence, the fire whispering at their backs.
Then Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and asked, “Now that you know… what will you do?”
Darcy looked up. “Do?”
“Yes. You could call off the marriage. Or go through with it, but forbid her contact with me. With the family. Keep your children away from a man such as I. There is always the risk Stephens and I might be discovered. Imprisoned. Condemned. We live in that shadow every day.”
Darcy stared at the chessboard.
“That never even crossed my mind,” he said honestly.
And it was true. A month ago, it might have. Before Elizabeth. Before her fire and her faith challenged everything in him.
“This knowledge,” he said haltingly, “does not alter the truth of your character. It does not make you any less a good man, a man of integrity. Any less a father worthy of respect. It only… forces me to reckon with how small my understanding was.”
Mr. Bennet’s posture eased, just slightly.
“And it does not change the fact that I love your daughter, and want her to be happy.” Darcy drew another breath. “Elizabeth has made me see things more clearly. I thought… I thought men like you were all like Wickham. But she showed me there is more. That love and decency are not the same thing as conformity. That integrity may wear many forms.”
Mr. Bennet let out a long, slow breath, as though he had been holding it for days.
Darcy glanced up and added, “Indeed, the very fact that you chose to tell me speaks to that integrity.”
“She feared your judgment,” Mr. Bennet said, the fight leaving his voice. “But she also knew her allegiance would pass to you. That she could not enter a marriage with a divided conscience. So Stephens and I agreed—I would tell you. I would bear it, not her.”
Darcy felt tears sting the back of his throat.
“It speaks to her heart,” he said hoarsely, “and to yours. You are far superior to men like Wickham,” Darcy said. “I have known few others… of your persuasion, I mean. And those I did know—well, they were not kind. Not faithful. Not honorable.”
Mr. Bennet made a sound of disgust. “That speaks more to the vice in our upper classes and the liberties taken in the name of privilege than it does to the nature of men like me.”
“That,” Darcy agreed, “is entirely true.”
Mr. Bennet nodded, his mouth tightening briefly. “Elizabeth did not wish to go into marriage with a secret. Otherwise, I would have held my tongue. But she knew her loyalties would one day shift—from me to you. In the eyes of God and law alike. And she was torn.”
“She need not fear,” Darcy said. “Not anymore.”
“I do not know what awaits me on judgment day,” Mr. Bennet said softly. “But I believe in mercy. I believe in grace. And I believe that the Lord does not turn away those who love honestly.”
Darcy felt that truth settle in his chest like something sacred. “I believe you are correct. I may not understand your attractions—in truth, they make me feel a bit ill—but I no longer condemn it.”
Mr. Bennet smiled faintly. “You sound like a man who has changed.”
“I am,” Darcy said.“Shechanged me.”
For a long moment, they simply sat in silence. The fire popped. The clock ticked. The game of chess they had long forgotten now lay in a quiet standoff.
