The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

E lizabeth attempted not to let her curiosity show when her father and Mr Darcy entered the drawing room, but she was positive everyone could see that she was burning with it. Why had Mr Darcy asked to speak to her father alone? Was it about her? Perhaps a request that he permit them to spend time together?

A more reasonable assumption was that it had to do with Mr Wickham, which meant it could be of little interest to her. She had already determined that she and her sisters must avoid the man as much as possible—a situation that made her laugh since it had grown from a conversation with a gentleman whom she had avoided, and no doubt Mr Wickham would tell her she had been right to. How could it not be amusing to think that a gentleman she had once disliked told her another was unworthy of her attention, and she believed him? It had not occurred to her for even a second to question Mr Darcy’s intelligence. She had believed him immediately— known even as she was speaking to Mr Wickham that he was not trustworthy—and that was interesting in and of itself. So much had altered in her connexion with Mr Darcy without her realising it. Would the next days and months bring about yet more changes?

Both men approached her, and she willed herself not to blush and her eyes to remain steady on her father, despite how quickly her heart was beating; she could not look at Mr Darcy.

“I believe Mr Darcy has something to ask you, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet said. “You have my permission to accept. Or not, as you like.” He clapped Mr Darcy on the shoulder and went to sit by her mother. Only once he was across the room did Elizabeth turn to Mr Darcy.

“What did you and my father talk about?” she asked, surprised that the first question was not about what he wanted to say to her.

He lowered himself into the chair beside her, and, watching him, she was struck by what a handsome man he was, far handsomer than any other man she had ever seen. And he was good. She had been dreadfully mistaken about him when they first met. It was not without reason, to be sure, but everything she had learnt of him lately made her value knowing him. She liked listening to him speak of things he enjoyed: books, his home, and his family, whom he clearly loved. The situation with his sister and Mr Wickham demonstrated how protective he could be, and that was particularly attractive to her. Glancing towards her father, she supposed it was because she had often felt unprotected by him. She had contemplated the matter a fair bit of late. While she had no doubt her father would always have done what he could if confronted with an obvious threat, such as a fire in the house, he would only act if it was absolutely necessary, and for too long he had neglected many more subtle threats, those to her ease and happiness—her mother and younger sisters’ lack of proper decorum, for instance. She gave him credit for his efforts over the past month, but it would take longer for her to believe he would remain resolved to be a better father and husband.

By comparison, what she had seen of Mr Darcy suggested that he had only lost his way for a short while. When confronted with his less-than-gentlemanly behaviour, he had soon admitted it and was doing his best to make up for it. That, in addition to his other characteristics, made him, in a word, admirable.

Keeping his voice quiet enough that no one else would hear, he said, “I wanted to tell your father of my history with Wickham. He needed to know about the man’s less-than-honourable behaviour, and I wanted his advice on how to ensure people in the neighbourhood are not taken in by him. He can easily make friends, but regretfully, I cannot say he ever deserves them.”

“Have you and my father devised a plan?”

He nodded. “We hope that people will be on their guard around him, not trust him too readily, yet I cannot be absolutely certain that he has not reformed. It is a ridiculous hope, but perhaps what happened this past summer, using Georgiana as he did, forced him to acknowledge how low he has sunk. I do not believe it is so, but for his father’s sake, I wish it were. It would make no difference to me—he and I could never be friends again—but…” He shrugged. “He might genuinely want to make his new career a success and live an honest life.”

Elizabeth detected a subtle longing in his tone and knew he not only hoped Mr Wickham had reformed; he wanted his former friend to become the man he knew he could be. It might only be because he knew it would please his and Mr Wickham’s fathers, it might be because of his memories of them as boys, but it would gratify him, and for his sake, she wished it would come to pass. She smiled and nodded to show that she understood and decided a change of topic was in order.

“My father said there was something you wished to ask me. I admit, I am impatient to know what it is.”

He chuckled and glanced at her but did not seem able to keep a steady eye on her. “Will you dance with me at the ball? I-I thought perhaps the first set?”

She bit her lips together to stop the words that wanted to burst from between them. They would have been a combination of astonishment and a hasty agreement; both would have left her feeling equally as silly, especially once she considered that he might be asking as part of his quest to ensure everyone who knew about his insult at the assembly saw that he regretted it. If that was the only reason he wanted to dance with her, she would just as soon decline. They might spend the evening in conversation instead. That was an activity she knew they would both enjoy.

“But you dislike dancing,” she said .

He swallowed audibly and fixed his gaze on hers. “But with you, I do not believe I shall find it so disagreeable. I know you will keep me sufficiently amused.”

She laughed, feeling flattered and consequently awkward. “How exactly do you suppose I would do that? Since you hate the exercise, I imagine the task would be difficult and almost certainly beyond my skills.”

Still keeping his eyes on hers, he shook his head. “All we need do is have a conversation similar to those we have had of late. Speak to me of more than how lovely the flowers are, do not hint that you would like to befriend my titled relations or question how many bedchambers there are at Pemberley.”

Hastily covering her mouth to muffle her exclamation, she needed a moment before she could respond. “Do ladies actually do that?”

He pressed his eyes closed and nodded, letting out a weary sigh. “And worse. I shall give you no names, but I have encountered some ladies who all but invite themselves to stay at my estate, others who encourage me to call on their fathers or brothers who, naturally, want nothing more than to be the best of friends—and more. One even hinted that I could do her brother a great deal of good if only I would give him a thousand pounds.”

“Oh, how wretched. And unfair! With such experiences, I am surprised you attend balls at all.”

“If I could avoid it, I would. My cousins and aunt—perhaps I ought to use names so that you know of whom I speak. I have several cousins and people I call aunts. I am referring specifically to Lady Romsley and her sons. These particular cousins seem to feel I should enjoy flirting with every young lady I meet, as they do, and my aunt believes I should be looking for a wife and am sure to find her only if I dance with every eligible lady in town.”

“Do you ask their fathers for permission to request a set?” She did not restrain her grin at the picture he painted of his life, intending to teach him to find the humour in it, if she could. Understandably, he would find his family’s coaxing him to behave in ways contrary to his nature extremely disagreeable, despite the current lightness of his tone.

He rubbed the back of his neck and momentarily averted his eyes. “No, but under the circumstances, I thought I should. He did not seem to mind that we spoke together the other evening, but a card party at Haye-Park is not the same as dancing together at a large ball. You have not answered my question.”

“No, I have not. Let me do so now. Of course I shall dance with you, sir. Thank you. I am greatly anticipating it.” She spoke cheerfully, seeking to ease the seriousness she heard in his voice. Soon, he would apologise again, she would accept, and her next task would be to make him leave their unfortunate beginning in the past. But that makes it sound as though I expect our…acquaintance to last longer than the week or, if I am fortunate, two he is likely to remain in the neighbourhood. I ought not to think that way. It will only result in disappointment. Surely, Mr Darcy’s visit to his friend would end soon, and while she and he might see each other again if Mr Bingley remained at Netherfield Park or if he and Jane married, whatever friendship the two of them were beginning to establish would be over. Until that happened, however, there was no reason she should not relish every minute of his company.

His expression softened, and she felt her cheeks warm when, in his deep, smooth voice, he said, “I, too, am looking forward to it.”