The Art of Apology (Happiness in Marriage)

Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T here was not a time in his life when Darcy had been happier, and it was all due to Elizabeth. She was everything— more than he had ever expected to find in a lady. He could almost sense his physiology being remade when he was near her, a shift from dour to content, half empty to full and complete. One reason he knew she was the perfect lady for him was the way his feelings for her had grown during their brief separation. Speaking of her to his family had emphasised how much he wanted her with him always, and when he saw her again in Hertfordshire… Each time he thought of it, he recalled exactly what she had looked like in a deep green gown that brought out the richness of her hair and eyes, a wide welcoming smile on her face when she regarded him. The kind, warm manner of her greeting to Georgiana had made him love her even more. The oddest aspect of his present situation was that he knew she loved him too. How could he understand what was in her heart when they had not spoken openly of it? Ne vertheless, he did, and he considered it another sign that they were meant to spend their lives together.

Celebrating Christmas in Hertfordshire had been lively and amusing. Elizabeth and her family had made him, Georgiana, and Bingley feel as though they belonged, and the connexions amongst them had become stronger—a joining of their families into a new entity.

Then they had come to town, and here, too, everything was as near to perfect as anyone had a right to expect. It was incredible to him that just a few months prior, his life had seemed dark and dreary because of Ramsgate and its repercussions. He had allowed the least attractive parts of his character—his arrogance and disdain for others—to harden. Darcy thanked God that he had gone to Netherfield and met Elizabeth, who had encouraged him to be a better man. Bingley and Mr Bennet had also played roles, but it was she who had been his main reason for improving himself. How soon after meeting her had he learnt to want her good opinion? He would never be certain, but he believed it was a combination of her refusal to accept his insincere apology in the churchyard and seeing her with Budge the first time.

Darcy reflected on all this at his aunt’s ball as he watched Elizabeth, who shone like the brightest star. How he wished he could spend every second of it with her! But they were both expected to dance with others. Yet, he did his best to keep Elizabeth in view at all times; he could not do otherwise. Astonishingly, he found he did not care that people were talking of them, speculating about their connexion, even asking him who she was. Six months ago, he would have snarled at anyone who had made so much as an innocuous enquiry about his life, but what did it matter when he was so wonderfully happy?

During an interval in the dancing, Elizabeth and he were standing together, chatting about the evening and the people she had met, contentedly observing the hordes about them. And then a piercing voice rent the air, cracking like a thunderbolt.

“Darcy, what do you think you are doing? Step away from that-that girl at once!”

Slowly turning to face the person who had spoken, Darcy stared at his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Beside her stood her daughter, Anne. Out of habit, he opened his mouth to greet them, but she continued, all but screeching at him. Certainly, she spoke loudly enough for half the room—or more—to hear.

“How dare you flirt with her! Who is she? Has my sister-in-law gone mad to permit such persons to attend her ball? Your mother would be ashamed to see you behaving in this manner.”

“I-I did not know you would be here, Lady Catherine,” he said. His shock at seeing her was receding, and as it did, fury at her words grew. Beyond his aunt and cousin, he saw Lord and Lady Romsley approaching, followed by Bramwell, Rebecca, and Fitzwilliam. Their progress was slow as they had to push through the murmuring crowd that was watching, stunned or delighted or both by the spectacle. The Gardiners, Bingley, and Miss Bennet stood to the side, appearing uncertain.

Lady Catherine announced, “I have come to insist you do your duty and propose to Anne. It is time for us to see to the marriage contract and set a date. What do I find instead? You flirting with some chit I do not recognise, and as soon as I entered the room, I heard people speaking of you being on the point of marriage to another girl. How could you behave in such a scandalous fashion? Everyone knows you are engaged to my daughter ! You have humiliated me—and Anne—and it will take a great deal for you to make it up to us. You can begin by sending her away and apologising.”

She used her walking stick to point at Elizabeth, and Darcy was tempted to grab it, pull it from her hand, and throw it away. The possibility of using it to prod her to leave was also appealing. Unconsciously, he held out a hand to his side and felt Elizabeth grasp it. It gave him strength to withstand whatever his aunt did next. Vaguely, he heard the earl and countess protesting about Lady Catherine’s presence and behaviour, but he would not leave them to fight this battle for him.

“First, I demand you accord Miss Elizabeth Bennet the respect she deserves as a gentleman’s daughter and my dear friend. Second, the only one of us who needs to apologise presently is you—to Miss Elizabeth, your sister and brother, everyone here, and me. If you wish me to accept, it had best be heartfelt. I shall know the difference. Third and finally, I am not engaged to Anne, I have never wanted to be, and I never had any intention of proposing to her, as I have told you many times over the last five years.”

“I do not want to marry him either,” Anne surprised him by saying. His cousin remained silent more often than not, probably because her mother hardly ever stopped talking. “We never have anything to say to each other, I do not want to remove to Derbyshire or anywhere else, he does not want to marry me, and if you force us to, we would be miserable.”

“But you would be mistress of Pemberley, and that would make up for everything else. You will obey me!” Lady Catherine told her daughter sternly. Regarding Darcy, she said, “As will you.”

Darcy stared at her for a moment, then turned to Elizabeth and said, “I promise I shall make you a proper proposal when we are alone. For now…Miss Elizabeth, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Will you consent to be my wife?”

A smile such as he had never seen before lit up her features; joy radiated from her, and he could see that tears filled her eyes. “Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife. Yes, I will marry you.”

“This is an outrage!” Lady Catherine cried. “Romsley, insist he rescind his offer and?—”

“I shall not,” the earl said, the first clear words Darcy had heard from him. It was then he realised that the crowd had gone silent as they watched the scene Lady Catherine was creating unfold before them. If he were not so happy, he would be embarrassed, vexed, furious—any manner of displeasing emotions—but he had Elizabeth by his side, her hand still in his, and he found he did not care what anyone else thought. He pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to her fingers, then whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too. I am so very happy,” she said.

Next to them, Lady Catherine said to Lord Romsley, “It is not to the children to decide such matters themselves. They have a duty to this family! Darcy has a duty to Anne, and I demand he lives up to it! He cannot marry some unknown creature. She cannot be anyone of note if I have never heard of her. What next? Would you let Bramwell bring such disgrace to the family?”

“I assure you,” said Bramwell, humour in his voice, “the lady I intend to marry is no more a disgrace than Miss Elizabeth is. Congratulations, by the way.” He nodded towards Elizabeth and Darcy, then turned to Rebecca, who stood by his side. “Since my aunt is already up in arms and causing a scandal, why do we not add to it? Better have it all done at once rather than give her an excuse to renew her complaints later.”

Darcy had always liked Rebecca, and he recalled telling Mr Bennet that she reminded him of Elizabeth. She was doing an excellent job of not looking affected by Lady Catherine’s antics or Bramwell’s perfunctory proposal.

She said, “What are you suggesting? I would like to be sure I know what I am agreeing to.”

“Marry me,” Bramwell stated.

Rebecca shrugged, but her smile betrayed how pleased she was. “I suppose.”

Lady Catherine was, indeed, willing to share her dislike of the match—calling Rebecca and her parents scheming, amongst other insults. It lasted just long enough for Darcy to grow fatigued of her, and he was on the point of leading Elizabeth out of the room, but his other relations had sufficiently recovered from their shock to act. Lady Romsley said something to Fitzwilliam, who nodded and walked away; a moment later, her message became evident when the musicians began to play a lively, loud tune. Meanwhile, the countess brushed past her sister-in-law and congratulated the newly-engaged couples.

“Rebecca, my dear, I am so glad to know you will be my daughter. Bramwell could not have chosen a better wife.” She kissed Rebecca’s cheek and patted her son’s, then looked at Elizabeth and Darcy, her smile fond and approving. “As for you two, oh, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot thank you enough for making my nephew so happy. I anticipate getting to know you, and your charming relations, much better. Welcome to our family.” She insisted on kissing both of them.

Lord Romsley, who was holding his sister’s arm, nodded at them and said, “I shall return anon. Well done, boys, though I suggest you take your ladies somewhere quieter and tell them you cannot live without them, et cetera. Help them, and yourselves, to forget the brief ugliness my sister has brought to our night.” With that, he ushered a spluttering Lady Catherine out of the room. Anne looked as though she did not know what to do, and Lady Romsley went to her, leading her away as she spoke. Darcy neither knew nor cared what the countess intended to do with her .

“My uncle is right,” Darcy said to Elizabeth. “Come with me.”

Their hands still linked, he led her to an empty alcove.

“Have you lured me here for some nefarious purpose, Mr Darcy?”

Something in her saucy tone made heat course through his body. If he had his way, he would pull her into his arms and kiss her until she felt as on fire as he did.

“Nefarious? No,” he said. “But I did promise you a proper proposal, and there is no time like the present.”

She chuckled. “You asked me to marry you. Does that not constitute a proper proposal?”

Shaking his head, he said, “It does not. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve to know how much I adore and love you, how overjoyed I am with you, that knowing you has changed my life more than you can imagine. You encourage me, make me want to be a considerate, diligent, generous man for you, so that I can be the husband you deserve, one you need never doubt or be ashamed of. You deserve to know that when I look at you, there are times I can hardly breathe. You are so beautiful, truly the most beautiful sight in the world to me, and you are more than I ever imagined I would have in my wife, my partner in life. We could stand here for the rest of the night while I describe everything I find admirable about you—your good humour, quick wit, sympathetic nature. I vow I shall always do everything in my power to never disappoint you?— ”

His words were interrupted by her suddenly grabbing him by the lapels, pulling him towards her, and kissing him soundly. After a long, indescribably wonderful embrace, she released him enough that she could look into his eyes and said, “Yes, I will marry you, and I love you just as much, and I vow I shall do everything in my power to ensure you never regret your choice?—”

Darcy had heard enough and, having discovered how satisfying it was to end a long-winded speech with a kiss, once again pressed their lips together, this time gathering her into his arms and refusing to relinquish her until forced to by the sound of a throat clearing. It was an amused-looking Mr Gardiner, who said he understood but, “there will be time enough for that after you are married.”

Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy would have been mortified if he was not consumed by love and happiness.