Page 132 of Colour My World
Bennet plucked a cigar and rolled it between his fingers. Raising it to his nose, he inhaled lightly, then exhaled with a short, unimpressed chuckle. He did not strike a match. Instead, he returned the cigar to the tray. “I enjoy a cigar from time to time. What our hostess calls this, I do not know. But it is not a cigar.”
At the mantel, Darcy lifted his glass and took a measured sip. He turned and spat it back into the glass, setting it down with deliberate finality. “If I did not know any better, I would think she means to kill us.”
They laughed. Darcy gestured to the footman. After a brief whisper, the servant pulled a crystal bottle of amber liquid from below the sideboard and filled two new snifters. “One must be prepared in all instances.”
They lifted their glasses, sniffed, sipped––and sighed.
“Tell me, Darcy,” Bennet said, shifting slightly in his seat. “What are your intentions towards my daughter?”
“Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth, is it?”
Darcy did not so much as hesitate. “I intend to make her Mrs Darcy.”
Bennet raised his brows, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “That is forthright, sir. Some would say rather presumptuous.”
“Better forthright than false.”
Bennet studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You understand what that means? The talk it will produce? Lizzy is no stranger to scrutiny, but your name linked to hers will set every tongue wagging from Meryton to Mayfair.”
“I am prepared for that.”
“And she?”
“I would not proceed without your consent. Or hers.”
Bennet nodded, tapping his fingertips against the chair's arm. “You are not a man prone to whimsy. You would not enter this lightly.”
“No.”
“I assume you have considered the ramifications, your family’s expectations, society’s inevitable judgement. A lesser man would hesitate.”
“I have hesitated long enough.”
Bennet found himself both amused and, reluctantly, impressed. He reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid within. “You are aware Elizabeth is not easily swayed. She values her independence, her mind. If you seek only to mould her into something more…suitable, you will fail.”
“She is perfectexactlyas she is.” Darcy did not waver. The young man had made his decision.
“Then, sir, you may take your chances.” Bennet sipped his cognac. “But be certain of this…. If I find her unhappy, if I suspect her heart compromised by anything less than the devotion she deserves, you and I shall have more than words.”
Darcy’s lips quirked faintly. “Understood.”
“You seem remarkably composed for a man walking into the lion’s den. Tell me, is it sheer determination or folly?”
Darcy chuckled. Then, his expression sobered. “A gentleman’s first duty is to those he loves.”
“That is a noble sentiment. Whence does it come?”
“Lady Anne Darcy.”
Bennet was silent for a moment. Then, he lifted his glass once more. “Then let us drink to mothers who raise gentlemen.”
Chapter 47
The rain had begun in the small hours, a light tapping on the windowpanes that, by morning, had deepened into a relentless downpour. At Longbourn, the house stirred slowly beneath its grey veil. Elizabeth woke just after dawn and stared at the dim ceiling, the rhythm of the rain an unbroken murmur that matched the unease within her. Sleep had fled hours before; what remained was restlessness and thought. Too much thought.
The first day, she paced. The echoes of Netherfield’s dinner and Lady Catherine’s relentless questions clung to her. Mr Darcy’s unwavering stare. Miss de Bourgh’s unbelievable revelation. Though filled with its usual occupants, she found breathing difficult, as if Longbourn were suffocating her. A vase in the drawing room met its demise when her elbow knocked it from its perch. Jane startled but said nothing. Lydia snickered while Kitty murmured something aboutgoats in drawing rooms.
