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Chapter Text

Mrs. Bennet’s very focused attitude towards marrying off her daughters may give her many faults, but she does tend to be perceptive when it counts. Which is why, the day after Lady Catherine de Bourg comes to visit, she spends quite a bit more time than usual studying her second eldest daughter. It’s not like Elizabeth to be so affected by any one person, and yet she has spent the better part of the day bent intently over her needlework without making more than three dozen stitches. Elizabeth had not said a word more than necessary about their meeting in the garden, but Mrs. Bennet knows it must somehow be connected to her daughter’s sudden lack of spirit. Whatever that connection may be, however, Mrs. Bennet cannot grasp it.

The sound of a horse upon the drive, then, is a welcome distraction. Trust Mr. Bingley to arrive so promptly for dinner.

“Why it’s Mr. Darcy!” says Kitty from the window, “whatever can he be doing here at this time of day?”

“Is he alone?” This was his greatest affront yet – Mrs. Bennet is sure of it. “The nerve of that man, arriving uninvited to a family dinner, without Mr. Bingley no less! Why it is simply unaccountable!”

Mr. Darcy himself is then shown into the room, and Mrs. Bennet has to end her tirade in order to greet the man. His simple bow in response does nothing to ease her temper. But then, “Good evening, madam. I do beg your pardon for calling at such an hour. I hope all your family is in good health?”

“Indeed sir, we are all quite well since you saw us last week.” He inclines his head in response, and Mrs. Bennet remembers her anger. “Is poor Mr. Bingley unwell? I cannot imagine what could keep him away and make him send you in his stead.” Elizabeth is sending her an alarmed look, but Mr. Darcy’s face has gone red, and that’s all Mrs. Bennet could ask for really. He hasn’t had the decency to look her in the eye since he entered the room, so she ought to be allowed a little bit of fun with him. In fact, he seems to be gazing quite intently to her left… at Elizabeth?

“I admit, madam, I have not yet stopped at Netherfield. I am here directly from London.” And now her daughter is staring back at Mr. Darcy just as intently, but with no small amount of surprise. Mrs. Bennet thinks she may have been handed the answer to all of her questions at once, but she must be sure.

“Perhaps you will be surprised to hear, Mr. Darcy, that your aunt called here yesterday morning. What a fine lady she was!” Both Mr. Darcy and her daughter flinch. Mrs. Bennet is delighted. Though Elizabeth has turned her face to look out the window and decidedly away from any of the room’s occupants, Mr. Darcy’s eyes do not waver from her face. Yes, Lady Catherine’s visit is suddenly much less out of the blue.

“I did hear of it.” Here, Mr. Darcy takes a hesitant step forward. “In fact, I must apologize for the manner of her visit.” Elizabeth stays turned away, and Mrs. Bennet, despite her recent revelations, is surprised by the sadness on Mr. Darcy’s face. Perhaps it is time to stop teasing the couple and help them along as she does best. Or, almost time.

“It really is quite a fine day outside,” she starts, and even Jane looks discomforted at this sudden and less than smooth change in conversation. But Mrs. Bennet will not be deterred, “why I’m sure that is exactly why you’ve returned early from London! The weather there must be dreary at this time of year. Nothing compares to fine Hertfordshire afternoons, you know.” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Elizabeth coloring at these remarks. Mrs. Bennet’s jabs at the city were never very subtle, but that is all soon to be forgotten. She finishes with no little satisfaction, “In fact, I think a nice walk would be just the thing on an afternoon like this, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Darcy? I’m sure the girls would be happy to join you, or at least my Lizzy. She has always been so fond of walking, you know.”

The room is silent for a moment, then for two. Mr. Darcy has finally looked away from Elizabeth to stare at Mrs. Bennet instead. And then, to the surprise of everyone in the room—including the man himself—he laughs. Mr. Darcy stands in the middle of a room filled with Bennet females and laughs. This, as nothing before could, brings Elizabeth’s gaze back to him. And Mrs. Bennet sits back to watch as his laughter brings a grin to her face, and as her smile softens his into such a gentle expression no one knew he could wear.

Mr. Darcy takes another step to the sofa, much more confident this time, and extends his hand. “If you would do me the honor, Miss Elizabeth?” Her daughter—her brilliant, lovely daughter (ten thousand a year!)—hesitates only a moment before taking his hand. She says not a word as they quit the room, but Mrs. Bennet sees how tight Elizabeth’s grip was on his hand. She knows she has surmised correctly.

“Should they–” Jane starts and pauses, still somewhat bewildered by the conversation. “Should they not have a chaperone?”

“Oh no my dear, let’s leave that until after he proposes.”

“Why would he propose?” says Kitty.

“Again?” says Jane.

“Again?” says Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps she has not surmised everything.

Chapter Text

Mr. Darcy’s thoughts do not settle for the whole ride back to Meryton. He cannot decide whether to be more outraged at his aunt for the liberties she took in visiting Elizabeth or delighted by each phrase she related that Elizabeth said. The knowledge that Elizabeth refused to promise never to marry him is always at the front of his mind. She refused - to his aunt, of all people!

He had left his house in London within an hour of hearing Lady Catherine’s story, with no plan other than to see her as soon as possible – and likely beg for forgiveness. Even if her words to his aunt meant she thought of him in a favorable light, she was still well within her rights to be livid at the things that had been thrown at her by Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy couldn’t stand to stay in town even one more day without knowing the state of Elizabeth’s thoughts towards him once and for all. So, for Hertfordshire he had departed.

By the time he reaches Longbourn—much too late in the day for a proper social call—he still has no more of an idea of how he is to ascertain Elizabeth’s feelings. That she no longer hates him, at least, he is rather sure of. But the rest of her family could very well still see him in quite the unfavorable light, and getting any sort of privacy with her is very unlikely. Still, he can at least show her that he is by no means deterred by his aunt’s disapproval.

He is shown into the parlor, where an irate Mrs. Bennet has just finished informing her four daughters how very rude he is to visit at such a time. For once, he cannot but agree with her. He would be appalled if anyone came to visit him unannounced so soon before the dinner hour. And yet, here he stands. Staring at Elizabeth without regards for propriety or decorum or her mother, who he dimly realizes has now greeted him. Mr. Darcy knows he really ought to make more of an effort to be civil if he wants to have any hope in the future.

“Good evening, madam. I do beg your pardon for calling at such an hour. I hope all your family is in good health?”

“Indeed sir, we are all quite well since you saw us last week.” He can almost feel her irritation with him, and yet has no idea how to go about fixing it. “Is poor Mr. Bingley unwell? I cannot imagine what could keep him away and make him send you in his stead.”

Both Jane and Elizabeth are attempting to reign in their mother from making any more pointed remarks like this one, and it gives Mr. Darcy courage. Not as much as if Elizabeth would look at him, but she cannot despise him if she tries to shield him from her mother’s derision – however much he may deserve it. “I admit, madam, I have not yet stopped at Netherfield. I am here directly from London.”

There are her eyes, finally. He feels as though he could spend a year just as they are if only she would continue gazing at him as she is now. Perhaps a year does pass, he cannot tell, as no one speaks for some time.

But, of course, Mrs. Bennet will not be silenced. “Perhaps you will be surprised to hear, Mr. Darcy, that your aunt called here yesterday morning. What a fine lady she was!”

He is almost thankful to her, for providing such an easy opportunity to address that event without arousing suspicion. “I did hear of it.” He does not want to overstep, does not want to make Elizabeth uncomfortable or expose her to the scrutiny of her family, but he must let her know he hasn’t any intention of listening to his aunt. He gathers his strength and steps forward. “In fact, I must apologize for the manner of her visit.” And yet, Elizabeth will not meet his eye. She seems determined to avoid the entire conversation, now that she has been reminded of Lady Catherine. Mr. Darcy doesn’t know whether to take this as a sign that she is still not interested or if she is merely embarrassed.

“It really is quite a fine day outside.” Again, he is drawn from his thoughts by Mrs. Bennet’s voice, discussing the weather of all things. “Why I’m sure that is exactly why you’ve returned early from London! The weather there must be dreary at this time of year. Nothing compares to fine Hertfordshire afternoons, you know.” Elizabeth’s cheeks color at this—why can he not look away?—and Mr. Darcy stops himself from thinking about how well the blush becomes her. He hardly even notices Mrs. Bennet’s slight against the city. “In fact, I think a nice walk would be just the thing on an afternoon like this, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Darcy? I’m sure the girls would be happy to join you, or at least my Lizzy. She has always been so fond of walking, you know.”

Mr. Darcy finally tears his gaze away from Elizabeth to stare in shock at Mrs. Bennet. She, in turn, is looking at him with the smug face of every matchmaking mother he has ever known. Once the full meaning of her gaze hits him, he can’t help himself really. He bursts into laughter – at himself, at his aunt’s ridiculous orders, at Mrs. Bennet for choosing this moment to become the most unlikely ally. Now he really is thankful to her. After a moment, he looks back at Elizabeth. She is turned to him once more, and her usual smile has returned. Mr. Darcy is sure his returning one looks entirely out of place, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

She is not angry, he is certain now, not with him anyway. He does not know whether she loves him, but that isn’t important right now. If he has to spend another six months convincing her to turn goodwill into love, he will – he doesn’t mind the idea at all. What matters is that she is smiling at him tenderly and that somehow, he has earned her mother’s approval and that they are about to walk outside together, alone, and that he cares for her more than anything and that she needs to know this.

Mr. Darcy steps forward again, more sure of himself than he has felt in a very long time. He thinks back to all the dances they have and have not shared. He smiles again. “If you would do me the honor, Miss Elizabeth?”

She takes his hand, and he promises himself never to let go.