One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (77 page)

“What? This?” Elizabeth walked to the place Darcy had indicated. “You have been sadly misinformed. There is nothing here but shelves with a few trinkets on them, sir,. nothing exceptional to impress or entertain.”

“Ahem, I pray you will forgive me, but I beg to differ on that count,” Darcy said with a grin.

“Upon my word, you are teasing me!” Elizabeth frowned slightly and folded her arms across her chest.

“I promise you, madam, I am not. The very spot upon which you stand shall prove to be a great source of delight.” Darcy took a step toward her.

“How so, when you vex me with riddles?” Elizabeth's hands shifted to her hips.

“Well, this is a new Elizabeth! Your color has half-returned already!” Darcy observed. “But I do not intend to vex you, not at all.”

“Then tell me what it is you find so compelling about this room that to see it, of all the other possibilities, was the first thing you desired on your return to Longbourn!” Elizabeth cried out in frustration.

“It is not exactly the room I desired, my love, but rather the excuse.” Darcy said, glancing upward with a sideways tip of his head.

Elizabeth's eyes naturally followed, tipping her head backward to observe, with a small gasp, the mistletoe, hung with a red ribbon directly above her head. Her eyes widened, and then, looking directly at Darcy, she declared with a saucy grin, “Why, Fitzwilliam, you have resorted to trickery!”

“Perhaps.” Darcy's face grew serious, and he took another step toward Elizabeth. “Does this trouble you? I do not wish to frighten you…”

“I am not frightened of you.” Elizabeth raised her chin and laughed nervously. “I am merely impatient now for you to carry out your scheme, for now we are to the stuff of my dreams.”

“Truly? Tell me of your dreams, Elizabeth.” Having closed the distance between them, his face was near enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

“Oh, they are clouded, hazy dreams, inspired, I think, by a sweet interlude on the road some two weeks past. In my dreams, there are a horse, and a dog, and you, of course…,” Sudden color rushed to her cheeks. “Am I wanton to you now, dreaming of your kisses as though that is all there is in the world? One cannot help what one dreams….”

Darcy stopped her with a fingertip pressed to her lips. “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, I am delighted to discover that you have such dreams, although I assure you they cannot compare to mine. It occurs to me that this is most opportune, for I ascertain that it is now within my power to fulfill your dreams. Shall I do so?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “We are once again upon the very precipice of propriety, Fitzwilliam.”

“True. However, we are engaged now, and that cheery sprig above you grants the gods of propriety some leniency. Will you indulge me this once?

Elizabeth nodded sweetly, which small encouragement led Darcy to capture her lips with his own. He held them as though they were a succulent fruit and he was a man parched. Lost in emotions he had grappled with but never faced, it was not until he felt her exhale and draw a new breath that he awoke from the spell cast in that moment. This ignited his passions anew, and he wrapped his arms around her, embracing her with all the longing and desire that had surged from the day he had fallen in love with her. His lips caressed her mouth tenderly and ardently before he reluctantly released her.

She stood before him serenely, eyes closed, head tipped to one side, a faint smile on her lips. Eventually, her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him with shining eyes. “You astonish me!” She said bluntly and added with great urgency, “We must convince my father that six months is far too long. We must!”

“Agreed, but we will do so after Jane's wedding when peace has been restored to the household.” Darcy said. “I have brought a present for you, a token.” He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved a tiny, shining object. “This was my mother's ring, given to her by my grandfather upon her entrance into society.” He held out the ring for Elizabeth to see. It was simple, with a few small gemstones set in a pattern of intertwining ivy. “I had it engraved for you.” Darcy caught Elizabeth's hand and placed the ring into her palm.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Elizabeth cried out. “It is so beautiful! But I cannot take your mother's ring!”

“It is yours now.” Darcy stated. “She would have wanted you to have it.”

“But Georgiana!” Elizabeth protested.

“Shall have pieces of her own. Besides, the engraving would be highly inappropriate for a brother to present to a sister.”

Elizabeth carefully inspected the inside of the ring, searching for the engraving, which she read aloud. “'Mon cœur est a vous' That is French! Give me a moment...,” she pondered briefly and said. “My heart is yours?”

Darcy nodded, took the ring from Elizabeth, and slid it onto her finger. “If we are to endure a season in London before we wed, I wish you to always have this token with you, my sentiments wrapped around your finger to assure you of my love at every moment. My heart is indeed yours, Elizabeth.”

~*~

The next day an express arrived at Longbourn for Mr. Bennet. The household had been assembled in the sitting room discussing the final preparations and wedding day schedule when Hill brought the delivery to Mr. Bennet.

“Who is it from, Mr. Bennet?” Mrs. Bennet attempted to peer over his shoulder.

Mr. Bennet raised the envelope aloft. “Mrs. Bennet, a man must be entitled to read his correspondence in privacy, particularly when it is undoubtedly regarding business affairs which you would find terribly dull compared to this business of marrying off your daughters.”

“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Bennet crossly, “your business affairs
 
are
 
exceedingly dull, and I must believe that you prefer it that way. Not that I blame you, of course, for you are a man, and have not a woman's fear of living in the hedgerows if we do not secure good husbands for the girls.”

“You must give up this fantasy of the hedgerows, wife. Bingley will not put you out in the cold, even if Collins would.” Mr. Bennet smirked.

“Do not
 
speak
 
that man's name in this house!” Mrs. Bennet railed. “Covetous, greedy, insufferable man. He is a hypocrite, that is what he is, and so is that Charlotte Lucas, if you ask me! I always saw through him, and I cannot bear the thought that such a man will someday be master of Longbourn. You must not die, dear; that is the only solution!”

“I think you must invent another plan, my dear. This one is decidedly flawed.” Mr. Bennet said as he moved toward the door.

“Do hurry and read your letter, Mr. Bennet, for we will serve tea in half an hour. Mr. Darcy and his sister will be here, and he does seem to prefer your company to mine.”

“That is nonsense—he prefers Lizzy's company to that of us all.” This, Mr. Bennet said across his shoulder as he quit the room to peruse his letter in the seclusion of his study.

~*~

The Bennet household was the site of a merry dinner party that evening. In addition to Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana Darcy, the Gardiners had arrived to share in the wedding festivities, as had Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Timmons, at the special request of Mary, had been invited to dinner, so the Gardiner children had eaten in the kitchen and been sent to bed before the dinner hour.

Mrs. Bennet had overtly seated three of her daughters beside the gentlemen whom they were engaged to or being courted by, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was seated between Kitty and Lydia, who were most pleased at this arrangement. In addition, the dark cloud, which had shadowed Mr. Bennet in recent weeks, had lifted, and he proved a remarkably jovial host, to the delight of his family and guests.

“Mrs. Bennet,” he addressed his wife as the soup was served, “you have set a fine table this evening. In order that I may pace myself, I must inquire—how many courses are you to subject us to?”

“Pish, Mr. Bennet, you exaggerate! It is only two courses…plus dessert.”

“Colonel, you must save room for the dessert.” Lydia said as she fluttered her lashes with a coy smile.

“If it will ease your mind, Miss Lydia, I shall gladly guarantee that my appetite will not fail when the time comes to summon it.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled. “Your mother, I recall, has a reputation when it comes to the confectionary excellence of her table.”

“True!” Mr. Bennet interjected. “And she has kept our local merchants in great suspense of late, wondering when she will require more sugar. You are bound to be served something absurdly sweet.”

“I am certain it will be wonderful.” Mr. Bingley beamed.

“The soup is delicious, Fanny.” Mr. Gardiner said to his sister. “What kind is it?”

“It is a soup recipe that has especially belonged to Longbourn house for generations but will die with this generation, for I swear I will not give it to the Collins'!” Mrs. Bennet spoke bitterly.

“Well, my dear, it is my pleasure to inform you that you need not assassinate the recipe after all.” Mr. Bennet said mysteriously as all eyes turned to him.

“What a ridiculous notion.” Mrs. Bennet said with a humph. “One cannot kill a recipe.”

“You mistake me,” Mr. Bennet said cheerfully. “What I meant to imply was simply that Longbourn shall not fall to the Collins'.”

“What?” Mrs. Bennet cried out. “Whatever can you mean?”

“Be not alarmed. I have not discovered the secrets of immortality.” Mr. Bennet smiled mischievously as he reached into a pocket and retrieved a paper with a flourish. He smiled in turn at each family member and guest, enjoying the rapt attention they had fixed on him, and then he unfolded the paper with some ceremony. He positioned his glasses on his nose and silently scanned through what was clearly a letter before he looked back up at his audience.

“I received this letter today from my solicitor in London,” he began, giving the paper a shake for emphasis, “and it contains information that is astonishing, yet happy news.”

“What news. Mr. Bennet?” Mrs. Bennet prodded. “Do not keep us in suspense!”

“You may recall that I sent an inquiry to my solicitor some weeks ago regarding what would occur in the event of Mr. Collins' demise, for at the time, his health was precarious.”

“But. Papa, he is recovering now. His demise is not imminent.” Elizabeth said gravely.

“His demise, as it turns out, is not our concern.” Mr. Bennet said. “The solicitor, in researching the conditions of the entail along with Mr. Collins' claim to Longbourn, discovered something disturbing.”

“Disturbing?” Mr. Gardiner glanced at his wife. “What did he discover?”

“Well, he looked at the Bennet ancestry and posterity for several generations, and he discovered something that I hardly find surprising, considering my own situation.” He paused dramatically. “The Bennet men rarely produce sons. It is true! Many daughters we have spawned, but sons? Sons are rare. It could be said that my very existence is a miracle.”

“Perhaps this is the reason for the entail.” Mr. Darcy suggested.

“Perhaps.” Mr. Bennet acknowledged. “But what is certain, is that Mr. Collins is not the natural offspring of a Bennet or any past master of Longbourn. The solicitor checked the records three times, traveling to personally inspect every related document and record himself. Every fact supports it.” At this pronouncement, he stopped speaking and waited for the reactions he knew would come. After nearly every person at the table had made some exclamation, he continued.

“My distant cousin married a woman who was widowed. She brought a son who was but a year old to the marriage. That son was adopted by my cousin and raised as his own son, presented to the world as his own. The deception was on the part of his father in making the claim that his son William was the legal heir should I not sire a son. Of course, had we been closer, such duplicity would not have been possible, but all attempts at so much as an introduction were rebuffed, likely in order to prevent the discovery of his fraud.”

“Does Mr. Collins know?” Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired.

“The express rider was on his way to Lucas Lodge after his delivery to me, to notify him of the development. If he did not know before, he knows now.” Mr. Bennet replied.

“What is the status of the entail? Who is the heir?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.

“Mr. Collins had renewed the entail; however, since he is not a legal heir, the renewal is invalid. The entail is broken.” Mr. Bennet said with a smile. “My daughters may inherit.”