“Oh,” was all that Jane could think to say. By this time, Mrs. Hill had rushed into the room with Mrs. Bennet’s salts, and the mistress of the home was being revived from her faint.
“Lizzy,” Mary asked from her seat beside Jane, “are you certain about this? He is a stranger.”
“To us, yes, but Papa knew Mr. Darcy long before we were born. They were the best of friends. I know that both Mr. Darcy and Fitzwilliam are honorable men, because Papa often read portions of Mr. Darcy’s letters to me. As far as the engagement, Uncle Phillips read it aloud in the will, and gave me a letter that Papa had written me just a week or so ago that explained it to me. This is the best way to make certain we are all taken care of once Mr. Collins arrives. All will be well, Mary, I promise you. I am,” Elizabeth paused, blushed, and glanced again at her betrothed. “I am convinced that Fitzwilliam and I will do well together. I already know much of him from those letters I mentioned, and he has a charming way about him when he wishes it.”
Fitzwilliam had watched Elizabeth as she spoke and recognized the tease, as well as the insinuation, in her statement. Charming, am I? I am not the only one. He would enjoy sparring with her, he was sure. His contemplation was interrupted when Mrs. Bennet began to address the issue of their betrothal once more.
“Sir,” she began, addressing him with an earnest tone of voice, “are you certain it is Lizzy you want? Jane is so beautiful, and so compliant, and she is two years older, far closer to your age than Lizzy.”
“I am certain, Mrs. Bennet, but I thank you for your concern.” Fitzwilliam was once again struck by a desire to flee the room, removing himself from the widow’s presence, but he refused to leave Elizabeth to the mercy of her mother.
“But Jane should marry first! She is the oldest. Brother!” She turned to Gardiner. “Tell him!”
“I am afraid, Sister, that Mr. Bennet arranged the marriage, as Lizzy told Jane just a few minutes ago. He betrothed Lizzy to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, not Jane. I do not know why, but surely he had his reasons.”
“Well,” cried Mrs. Bennet, “it was likely because she was his favorite. We all know how he doted on her, to the detriment of the rest of his daughters. He could not have been in his right mind when he made this decision. Certainly, he never consulted me.”
“Yes, Fanny; Lizzy was Bennet’s favorite, just as Jane and Lydia are yours. No one makes a fuss about you promoting the eldest and youngest over the middle girls, and I will not have you making a fuss over your dearly departed husband promoting his favorite.” Gardiner’s listeners admired his firm stance with his sister. Except for Fitzwilliam, who had not met the lady before arriving at Longbourn yesterday, none had seen anyone cause her to subsist the way she currently was. “Let me make it clear to you, and I will ask our brother to provide you proof, if you require it, that Bennet engaged Elizabeth to Fitzwilliam Darcy. Not Jane. Not Lydia. Not Mary or Kitty. Elizabeth. He felt Lizzy was the best suited to marry his friend’s son. I do not wish to hear more about it.”
“Oh, very well.” What her family did not realize is that Fanny Bennet had learned the fine art of only hearing what she wished to; so, if her brother Gardiner did not want to hear anything else, that was fine. Mrs. Bennet was quite capable of waiting until he was out of earshot.
It was not that she did not want Elizabeth to marry. On the contrary, her greatest desire, and single goal in life, was to marry all five daughters off as early as possible. She loved them all and wished to do well by them, which meant getting them settled well. Lizzy was her most difficult child, and had always been. She was so different than the rest, always reading, and saying things that no one but her father understood. And, she was obstinate. Not like the easy-going and compliant Jane. Mrs. Bennet could not imagine a gentleman as rich as Mr. Darcy wishing to attach his son to such a headstrong and incomprehensible girl. She must make sure both gentlemen understood what they were getting with Lizzy, and point out Jane’s better qualities. Mrs. Bennet was startled out of her reflections when her brother spoke to her again.
“Fanny? Are you listening? I was just now explaining about Mr. Collins.”
“Oh! I am sorry, do forgive me. I was woolgathering.”
Gardiner looked at his sister with suspicion in his eyes, but elected to repeat his statement. “I said, Sir William is to be summoned immediately should Mr. Collins approach Longbourn. He is spreading the word around about the man, in the hopes that someone will see him in Meryton. Any advanced knowledge we can get is better than nothing.
“In the meantime, the Darcys and I will remain here. My managers know where I am and that I may be gone for an extended period. If something untoward happens and my presence is required, they will send an express, and I will return to town. Maddie and the children will remain at Longbourn in that event and for the foreseeable future. You require as much support, dear Fanny, as your family can provide, and we are happy to do so.”
“Thank you, Edward. I do not know what I would do without you.” Mrs. Bennet began once again to wail, allowing tears to stream down her face and waving her handkerchief.
“You should retire to your rooms, Sister. There is no need to further strain your nerves. We can discuss Lizzy’s wedding in the morning.”
Jane and Kitty immediately assisted their mother to stand, helping her out of the drawing room and up the stairs. With her went much of the tension in the room. Fitzwilliam had kept an eye on his betrothed during the discussion, and he could see the strain on her face. Deciding that a walk in the fresh air would do her good, he looked to his father, nodding to Elizabeth and then the window to indicate his intentions. Darcy nodded his acknowledgement.
Turning to Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam made his request. “Shall we walk in the garden for a while? I do not know about you, but I could surely use some fresh air to revive me after such an emotional time.”
“Thank you; that would be lovely.” Always happy to be out in nature, Elizabeth added a mark in Fitzwilliam’s favor for his thoughtfulness.
When Fitzwilliam rose and held his hand out to her, Elizabeth took it without hesitation. Her heart lurched at his touch; she wondered if it always would, or if she would become used to it as time marched on.
They rambled about Longbourn’s extensive gardens in silence for a while, but before long, Elizabeth felt a need to speak. “We must have some conversation, Fitzwilliam. A very little will do. You could remark on the varieties of roses, and I could reply with a compliment to the gardener.”
Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Whatever you wish, Elizabeth. Tell me what you most would like to hear, and I will say it to you.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. “That will do for now, I suppose. Are you always so quiet?”
“I have been told I am, yes, though I am lively enough amongst those I know well. I do not require chatter to keep me entertained, like my friend Bingley does. Silence suits me very well most of the time.”
Elizabeth looked up at him, tilting her head with a mischievous grin. “How on earth do you get to know new people if you do not like to speak?”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “I find it difficult to get to know people, to be honest. I cannot catch the tone of their conversation or appear interested in their concerns. It is a failing, to be sure, but as the son of a wealthy man, it is often better to be quiet than not. It is easy to fall victim to someone pretending friendship but whose main desire is your funds or connections.”
“You sound as though you have experience with this.”
“Sadly, I do. Most of it was in school—Eton and Cambridge; but there was a person when I was younger that I thought of as a friend. His charm no longer works on me, but he still has my father’s ear.”
“Have you warned Mr. Darcy about him?”
“I have attempted to, multiple times, But Wickham has a great deal of charm in his air, and Father cannot see past it.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you.” Wishing to change the subject, Fitzwilliam asked her a question, one that would answer his desire to know how she kept her figure so light and pleasing. “Do you walk often?”
“I do. I adore walking all over Longbourn, and up to Oakham Mount. From the top of it, one can see all of Longbourn’s gardens, and the back of the house. Often, we walk into Meryton, or we did, before Papa …” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off even as it filled with emotion. Fitzwilliam squeezed her hand, and she gratefully pressed her hand into his arm in return. When she felt she had her emotions under control once more, Elizabeth continued. “We used to walk to town every day, to see Aunt Phillips or shop. It is only a mile, and the horses are often needed on the farm and cannot be spared for the carriage.”
“Would you rather take the carriage?” It was Fitzwilliam’s turn to tilt his head. He looked at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the path.
“For myself, no, but Jane is not as strong a walker as I, and for her sake, I often wish we could. I enjoy the freedom of walking, though, and the health benefits. When I have had to be in the house for a few days due to inclement or dirty weather, I always find myself feeling out of sorts and uncomfortable.”
“I feel the same about riding. There is nothing like a good gallop first thing in the morning to invigorate one. Do you ride?”
“Not if I can help it.” Elizabeth winked, causing Fitzwilliam to laugh. They continued to talk as they made the final turn and strolled back to the house.
~~~***~~~
The next day, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth spent several hours together, this time in her father’s chambers, sorting through his clothing and other possessions. This was a difficult day for Elizabeth, as Fitzwilliam knew it would be. There were many times over the course of the morning when he stopped their work to draw her into his arms and hold her. With the housekeeper in the room, and maids and the Bennets’ man of all work constantly in and out, Fitzwilliam could not kiss her like he wished to, but he made the most of the time he did have to just be close to her.
Fitzwilliam reflected, as he held her close and let her cry out her tears for the fourth time in as many hours, that he rather liked the position they were currently in. He felt comforted as much as he hoped she did. She feels so good, he thought, as though she belongs in my arms. As though she was formed for me. Startled by his mind’s reference to one of his Aunt Catherine’s favorite sayings, Fitzwilliam mentally shook himself, but did not let go of Elizabeth until she pulled away, her tears dried once more.
“Perhaps we should stop for the day, Dearest. We have made good progress, but it does not need to be completed in one go. I would rather you take some time and rest.”
Knowing he was correct, and finding herself shamelessly wishing Fitzwilliam would rest with her, Elizabeth agreed. “We have made significant progress, have we not? I confess that I feel worn out. Heavy emotions do that to me. I should like to rest, I think.”
“Good. Then, let me escort you to your room. I will go down and see what my father is up to.”
Having arrived at the door to Elizabeth’s chambers, Fitzwilliam looked both ways down the hall and, seeing no one, ran his hands up his betrothed’s arms to her shoulders. “Sleep,” he whispered, “and if you need me, do not hesitate to summon me. I will send someone up to wake you in time for you to prepare for tea.” Seeing her nod in acceptance, Fitzwilliam leaned toward her, his hands skimming up and across her shoulders and settling around her neck. He tilted her chin up with his thumbs and pressed his parted lips to hers.
Elizabeth’s eyes closed as Fitzwilliam’s hands gently held her neck, and his warm, soft lips caressed hers. Without thought, she mimicked her behavior from before, and lifted her arms up to wrap around his neck. Her mouth opened, and she lost herself in the delicious sensations of her future husband’s kiss.
Not allowing himself to forget their location, Fitzwilliam kissed Elizabeth for as long as he dared. When he finally pulled back, he noticed her reluctance to allow it and smiled to himself. “Sleep well, Elizabeth.” He reached past her to open her door, watching as she slipped through the opening and slowly closed it, clearly looking at him until the door finally shut and the latch fell into place.