Page 90 of The Slipper Scandal
As they stood together in the breakfast room, each contemplating the challenges ahead, Elizabeth found herself thinking of Mr. Darcy's music from the night before. It had been passionate, tender, filled with a yearning that echoed in her own heart. Arabella had seen it clearly before she did, but now Elizabeth understood. They could face it all, together. Whatever came, she no longer doubted the strength they could forge between them.
She was still afraid of what would come. But tomorrow, when he called again, perhaps they would finally have the chance to speak honestly of their feelings without interruption or constraint. And if he still wished it after a night of contemplation, she intended to tell him that she was willing—no, that shewanted—to marry him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The morning sun slanted through the windows of the Abernathys' drawing room, where Elizabeth sat with Arabella, attempting to immerse herself in a volume of poetry. Since her mother's arrival the day before, she had found the house increasingly oppressive, despite Mrs. Abernathy's valiant efforts to restrain her mother’s effusions.
"I believe someone has arrived," Arabella observed, glancing towards the window as the sound of carriage wheels on gravel reached them.
Elizabeth looked up from her book, a sense of foreboding settling over her. "Not Mr. Darcy, surely? He was not expected until after luncheon."
"No," Arabella replied, rising to peer out the window. "It appears to be—oh! I believe it is your father, Lizzy."
She wanted to weep, gnash her teeth, stomp her foot. But she was a lady, and these remedies for her vexation were not available to her. At least, not in company.
Elizabeth knew the arrival of her father would only complicate an already fraught situation. She joined Arabella at the window in time to see Papa descending from a hired post-chaise, his normally composed features set in lines of distinct irritation.
"Oh dear," she murmured.
The sound of Wilson admitting Mr. Bennet to the house reached them, and moments later, the door to the drawing room opened to reveal her father. His clothing was travel-stained, his cravat askew, and his expression thunderous.
"Papa!" Elizabeth exclaimed, moving to greet him. "We did not expect you."
"No, I daresay you did not," her father replied with barely concealed impatience. "Just as I did not expect to find my wife had removed herself from Derbyshire without so much as a by-your-leave or that Longbourn would be bereft of its mistress upon my return."
He bowed to Arabella with perfunctory politeness. "Miss Abernathy, I beg your pardon for this intrusion. I hope your parents are well."
"Quite well, thank you, sir," Arabella replied. "They will be delighted to see you. Shall I have Wilson inform them of your arrival?"
"If you would be so kind," her father said, then turned his attention back to Elizabeth as Arabella slipped from the room. "Well, Lizzy, I see your mother has succeeded in her quest to join you in town."
His frustration was palpable, and he made no attempt to hide it.
"I am sorry, Papa," Elizabeth said, genuinely contrite. "I had no idea Mamma would arrive here so quickly."
"Did you not?" His tone held an edge Elizabeth had rarely heard. "You must have known she would fly to London at thefirst hint of a prosperous match. Ten thousand a year! I have heard little else for weeks."
Elizabeth winced. Her mother had said the same, but she had believed it an exaggeration. Was Mr. Darcy truly so wealthy? A little of the old doubt slithered back in. What could he possibly want with her?
"Mr. Abernathy felt compelled to write."
Her father scoffed. "Of course he did, but was it truly necessary for you to write to Jane? You know your mother reads all your letters. She is beyond reason. The entire journey from Derbyshire to Longbourn, I consoled myself with the thought that I would soon have the peace of my library. Instead, I find myself obliged to follow her to London lest she embarrass the family beyond redemption."
He was alternately angry and silent for a quarter of an hour before the drawing room door opened again to admit her mother, whose expression of perpetual excitement faltered momentarily at the sight of her husband.
"Mr. Bennet! What a surprise! We did not expect you."
"Evidently not, madam," her father replied coldly. "It seems you departed with such haste that you neglected to leave word of your destination."
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. "I left a note with Hill."
"A note which said only that you had gone to London. Not why, or for how long, or where you might be reached."
"Where else would I stay but with the Abernathys? And why else would I come but to see my Lizzy?" Mamma’s voice took on a defensive tone. "You cannot begrudge a mother's desire to celebrate her daughter's engagement to such a fine gentleman as Mr. Darcy."
Her father frowned. “I begrudge nothing but the necessity of following you to town when I might have been comfortablysettled in the north or at home. And I told you there was no engagement."
“Oh, it has been weeks.” Her mother waved her hand in the air. “Of course they are engaged.”
