Page 10 of May I Have the Pleasure
He just stood there rooted to the spot, calmly holding out his hand as it all came crashing into my consciousness.
Going back to the first dance, he asserted he had a gentleman who could make a good case that he was owed a dance. Since he had asked me thrice and been denied, one could readily agree that I owed him the first set.We did not even need the Propriety Fiction.True, he had notspecificallyasked for this set, but it was not out of the realm of possibility. He had been planning to dance the first all along but wanted to… well… he wanted to make me comfortable. That realisation was nearly as shocking as those that followed.
The rest came into my mind whole and complete all at once, because Fitzwilliam Darcy had just given me thethree most precious giftsof my life.
Thefirst giftwas that he had, in plain view of Mr Collins and the entire assembly, given me the gift of hisrespect. Yes, he had said it a few minutes earlier, but words cost nothing. Mr Collins might improve, but to date he had filled the air with meaningless words. Mr Darcy said few words, but he gave me the respect of assuming I listened to him and understood, even when he was not speaking to me.
The respect of a man of sense and education was nothing to be lightly dismissed, and it made me feel warm inside. I had only seen one example of true respect in marriage, that of my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and that was enough to makeme want it with every fibre of my being. In a dozen ways, Mr Darcy had spent the last hour showing me that he respected me… even doing so slowly and gradually to prevent shock. He was telling me he respected my intelligence enough to understand what he was saying, even if he did not say it directly.
Thesecond giftwas the supreme power ofchoice. All his allusions to the dances made perfect sense now. It was the way of our society that women must walk a very narrow line while the men got to pick and choose. As women, if we show our preference too much, we were wanton or forward. Show not enough and we were uncaring and unengaged. Either way, it was up to us to walk the imaginary line until a man showed his preference, and then we had no choice except the power to say no—and not always even that.
Now, withtwo words, Mr Darcy turned the entire process on its head. The idea that three dances was tantamount to an engagement was a bit of a myth, but not for Mr Darcy. He had given me the explicit choice of which dances we would dance, and the speed of our courtship would depend on it.
He was dancing the first set with me.Opening the dance with me made his preference public, but without generatingunreasonableexpectations or gossip. It was more important than any other dance, but not committing, especially if we had no prior courting behaviour, although dancing the first when he had not danced with any other lady of the neighbourhood was not all that subtle.
If we danced thefirstandsuppersets, he would be in my father’s library asking for a formal courtship before the next day was done. That meant I could have a courtship by simply giving him permission to request the supper set. The only way he would dance thefirst, last, and supperwith me is if we were engaged. It was just not something he would do.
He was offering me a choice. Yes-No, Fast-Slow; it was all my choice. Here and now, he had put his life in my hands,and he was just standing there patiently waiting for an answer with his heart on his sleeve.
Thethird gifthe gave me was the power of his trust and affection. It was now, oh, so obvious.All those looks had been looks of admiration.All those debates we had at Netherfield were simply for the pleasure of the conversation. Everything he did tonight, he did partly because he is a good, honest, and decent man, but in the end, it seemed obvious—he did it for me.He had just trusted me to do the right thing and given me permission to order the entire rest of his life by my choosing. Right there, right then, I was given the power over the twist and turn our future would take.
I admired his patience waiting for me to work it out, and then I suddenly realised something.I admired him—full stop. He had given me the supreme gift of a good long glimpse into his soul, and the trust in my judgement to treat it as he deserved, and I was not about to let either of us down.
I felt a smile of prodigious proportions grace my face, and decided that just this once, I would best him. If he planned to engage in a brevity contest by asking for my heart and soul and hand withtwo words, I would answer with one.
Watching him intently, I reached down, carefully removed my left glove, and said,“Finito.”
Finito
Exactly as expected, Mr Darcy reached into his waistcoat, extracted the leather pouch Mr Smithson had retrieved earlier, and placed what I would later learn was his grandmother’s ring on my finger. Just like that, withthree words, my life was decided. I was now engaged to a man I was certain loved me. My own feelings could not possibly have changed from dislike all the way to love in an hour, but I was certain it would soon enough. In truth, I suspect I was already in love with him but planned to be slow and cautious with my feelings, not admitting to being head over heels until at least the midpoint of our first dance. I liked him tremendously. I respected him enormously. I would love him with all my heart soon. That was more than enough.
Mr Collins was standing there staring at us, but I could not be bothered to worry about him.
He surprised me by asking, “Am I privileged to be the first to wish you joy, cousin?”
I simply nodded, unwilling to sully the moment with any words.
Much to my surprise, Mr Collins added, “I will cherish this conversation all my life. Mr Darcy. Cousin Elizabeth. I wish you joy. Fear not. I can see this is not public, so I will bask in the glory of having witnessed it, enjoy being in your confidence, and say nothing. I must go for my dance with Miss Mary. Good fortune.”
I watched him go with some bemusement, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed us. Astoundingly, nobody appeared to have done so, which boded well. I wanted a few minutes of privacy, although I well knew speculation would run rampant when I stood up for the first with my secret intended.
With some regret, I pulled my glove back on, then gave my hand back to the future father of my children, and we left for our first of many dances.
~~~~~
My first dance with Fitzwilliam was wonderful.I took my place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which I was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr Darcy, and reading in my neighbours’s looks, their equal amazement in beholding it.
Well, who am I sporting with? I could not possibly spare even one thought for my neighbours, nor did I need to spend any more time talking with Fitzwilliam. I asked for his given name while walking to the top of the set, smiled sweetly at Jane as she looked at us with open amazement, closed my ears to the high-pitched screech Mama made seeing me standing up with Mr ten-thousand and just danced.
Every time my hand came in contact, I could feel my ring practically burning a hole through my glove. Every time my mouth thought to contort itself out of a smile I… well, again, who am I fooling. I am sure I looked like the silly besotted fool I was. All I had to do to match that look was copy my beau.
Fitzwilliam lookedso-so-so different. He had a look of pure happiness, and I realised I had never seen him with anything but a look of confusion or fear—or both. He hadso diligently protected his heartand tried his best to match all the expectations his family must have beat into his head with a mallet, until he just lost it. When love breached all his defences, he was overwhelmed and never looked back.
We finished the dance having not said a word the entire time. Our dance partners noticed our silence but did not comment on it—while they were next to us, at least.
When the dance ended half a moment later, we oh-so-casually sauntered over to find Papa for his blessing. Fitzwilliam asked if it would be a problem, and I replied with a question about the relative odds of Papa being able to stand against the combined weight of a gentleman of his standing, his favourite daughter, and his wife. Poor Papa! It really was not a fair fight, and he knew it had been lost with a single glance at us.
When Fitzwilliam stood in front of him, I expected the traditional dressing down and detailed question fathers live for. Instead, he just gave us an intense look and stared at my left glove. I removed it without a word, showed him the ring, and he kissed my hand.
