Mr. Darcy's Promise (11 page)

So Mr. Denny was in on it? Wickham had planned this from the beginning? If only I knew why he would do such a thing! What was he after
?
Mr. Darcy knew he couldn’t stay silent for long as his nausea had turned to dangerous levels. He quickly poured over this new piece of knowledge. Denny was to get Mr. Bennet to witness what Darcy himself had witnessed.
Somehow compromising Elizabeth in front of her father was supposed to either benefit Wickham or hurt me. Which was it?
Wickham would do anything for money; he knew that all too well by experience, but the Bennet ladies did not have dowries to speak of. Did Wickham suspect he had feelings for Elizabeth? If he was trying to hurt Darcy, then ruining Elizabeth’s reputation could be a way, however indirect, of attacking him. But was it money he was after, or the chance to damage Darcy’s own chances with Elizabeth? Suddenly he knew he understood; it was both. Wickham intended to be the man in this very chair being forced to marry Elizabeth! And in doing so, Wickham would take Elizabeth away from Darcy forever. Unless, and this seemed to be a real possibility, he was going to try to negotiate money from Darcy.

Wickham was smart enough to realize that if Darcy wanted Elizabeth, he would pay handsomely to keep Wickham from marrying her. Of course! It was all too clear now. Wickham wanted to compromise Elizabeth and had hoped that Darcy would pay Wickham
not
to marry her, but instead to allow Darcy to salvage her reputation by marring her himself. It was an interesting plan, one that would have risked Wickham losing his chance to marry an heiress. He must have been quite confident in Darcy’s admiration as well as his wiliness to pay anything to keep Wickham from marring Darcy’s true love. But things didn’t pan out for Wickham like he had planned. Darcy’s mind and stomach felt a sudden wave of relief. He had spoiled Wickham’s plan and now Darcy was the one being asked to marry Elizabeth. He knew now how lucky he was to have come across them when he did. For not only was Darcy willing to offer marriage, but it looked like Mr. Bennet thought it was Darcy all along who had been kissing Elizabeth in that “provocative way.”

“Well, Mr. Darcy? You have sat there silent now for a good five minutes. I have watched you go from anger, to confusion, to what now appears to be excitement. Do you mind sharing what seems to have gone through your mind?” Mr. Bennet was all curiosity now.

“No, sir.”

“No? I believe this meeting requires at least some disclosure of your thoughts.” Mr. Bennet saw Darcy start to smile.

“Sir, on that topic I would be happy to inform you of my thoughts and intentions. I am fully aware that my actions,”
and those now-thwarted actions of Mr. Wickham, thank goodness,
“now imply that I must offer marriage to your daughter. I am a man of honor and will stand by what is appropriate. If you insist on me marrying Eliz . . . Miss Elizabeth, I am willing and able to offer a comfortable home and will give you my word that she will be well cared for. I was raised a gentleman and will treat her as a lady ought to be treated.”

Mr. Bennet didn’t know whether to be pleased that he was offering marriage or displeased that love and admiration was not part of the speech. “Well, I am glad to hear you and I are on the same page. I must tell you,
though, that I fear Lizzy is not of the same mind. She is headstrong and has tried to voice her opinion several times in the last twelve hours. How best to inform her?”

Mr. Darcy was more than a little disappointed to hear that Elizabeth did not want to marry him. He assumed her opinion of him had not changed much from what he overheard on the road to Meryton. His nausea came back again as he realized that she might really prefer to marry Wickham. Nevertheless, he loved her, and would take part or all of her heart in any way he could. He knew that if given the chance, she would eventually soften towards him and hopefully learn to at least respect and admire him. “Mr. Bennet, I feel you know your daughter best. Perhaps that is a decision for you to make.”

“If our domestic peace is upset much longer, I fear it shall never be restored to this house. What do you think about getting a special license and getting this done quickly; say, in two weeks? The incident I am sure has been widely spread by now, knowing Mrs. Long’s tongue. I admit that I am surprised Mrs. Bennet has not found out yet.” He heard a knock on the door. “Just a moment!” He then lowered his voice and said, “If I were you I would leave soon or you will see one of my wife’s nervous attacks when I tell her she will have a daughter married in two weeks!”

“I understand and I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Perhaps we should speak to Miss Elizabeth first?”

Another knock sounded at the door. Mr. Bennet smiled, “If I am not mistaken, that is probably her right there.” He raised his voice, “Come in, Lizzy dear!”

Elizabeth opened the door slowly. She had waited long enough. If these two men were going to discuss her future, she wanted be a part of it. Her first glance told her that her father’s wrath and stubbornness were lessened. She also saw Mr. Darcy looking at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite determine— was it concern or distaste? She understood all too well that she was too late to influence the decision.

“So it is decided?” she asked her father before turning to Mr. Darcy. “We are to marry?” She raised her chin and looked him directly in the eye until her strength wavered and she looked away, tears threatening her composure. Her head turned before she saw the look on Mr. Darcy’s face change to the same compassion she had seen the night before. She also did not see him blink back tears of his own from seeing her displeasure at the thought of marrying him. All Elizabeth could do was look out the window and ask, “When?”

*****

Looking back, the two weeks passed by quickly for Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy only called on her a few times and usually with Georgiana. The only liberties he requested was his offered arm when they went on chaperoned walks. He had also traveled to London for part of the time to get the special license. She was relieved that he seemed to be just as anxious about the wedding as she was. Even Georgiana, who at first seemed to welcome the union, seemed anxious and distracted. It was now, alone in the carriage with him after the wedding had taken place, that it all caught up to her.

She had been too proud to show her shock when her father relayed that she would be a married woman in two weeks. She had also been too proud to show her frustration with Mr. Darcy. He had been so kind and comforting the night before, yet that morning in her father’s study he was anxious and his actions and words seemed forced. She remembered how rote and rehearsed his unnecessary proposal was. After all, it wasn’t as if she could say no. What made her the most upset was that she knew there was part of her that wished Mr. Darcy wanted to marry her, but each pained expression on his face told her that he was being forced into his marriage. She had been right all along. Mr. Darcy did not admire her in the slightest. Recalling this realization while in such proximity inside a carriage only brought fresh tears to her eyes. She tried not to think of the wedding vows she had repeated just hours before, those vows which she had once imagined as sacred, but had been said without hope of a happy marriage. Her tears flowed freely as she thought of how he had said his vows with a strained, pained voice. He had glanced quickly to her as he said them, the expression in his eyes revealing the mockery and falsehoods of the vows.
Oh, how he must hate me to have placed him in this position!
She glanced in his direction to where he sat across from her in the gently rocking carriage. He seemed on the verge of speaking yet he did not.

She remembered telling Jane of her engagement and Jane’s initial excitement that lasted until she saw the look on Elizabeth’s face. Her tears flowed further and she did not even try to wipe them away. Her thoughts kept returning to these moments in the last two weeks, which only brought on more tears in return. She tried not to think of Jane’s engagement to Bingley which had occurred only two days before. How different Jane’s feelings were than hers. Jane’s was a love match, but hers was clearly not. But she kept her sobs from escaping from her tightly constricted chest by holding her arms around herself, as if physically trying to hold in the pain.
If only he cared for me! Then things would be so different.
She had always told herself that if she were to marry it would only be for love. Now it was evident that her husband— a word that she still had a hard time associating with Mr. Darcy— didn’t love her. If only she could let go of the expectation that a husband should care for his wife, things would be so much easier. If her heart could just be content and not give into hope! Hope that his pained expression was concern, hope that their dances at Netherfield were as enjoyable for him as they were for her, hope that she could be comforted in his arms once again, and hope that she mattered! The tears flowed further and she very nearly let out a heart wrenching sob.

Darcy could not take it anymore. Her tears were silent but they wounded him deeply. He took out his handkerchief and offered it again, hoping she would finally take it. She looked at his face and sighed, then reached out her hand and took it this time. She did not, however, wipe her face with it, instead she just held it in her hands and turned her tear stained cheeks away from him. It was simply too much. He leaned forward and took the handkerchief from her hand and wiped her tears on her cheeks with it. He gently wiped and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She let out a small sob of pain, her chest jerking in spite of her attempts to remain silent.
Oh, dearest Elizabeth! If you would just tell me what troubles you most. I will do everything in my power to your ease your pain!

He hated the direction his thoughts kept leading him towards. Why was she so forlorn? Was it out of lost love for Wickham? He prayed not. She was surely too clever to be taken in by his schemes. But that kiss! He wished he could make up his mind on whether or not she was a willing participant! Then he would know for certain. Was she missing her family? Did she regret being forced into marriage with such a “proud” man? Or was she most anxious about the wedding night? He understood many women feared what would happen in a marriage bed. Growing up in the country she surely knew the particulars of what it entailed, but he couldn’t be certain even of that. Nor could he imagine that her mother had given her any great reassurance on the matter. Yes, he decided, she was probably worried most about the expectations of being intimate with him. This last thought was the only one he felt he had any power to control. He would do anything to ease her anxiety and pain.

He dabbed her eyes once again. “Elizabeth?” he said softly. She slowly turned her head towards him and met his eyes. Her own were swollen and red from crying. “I do not know all that troubles you, but I can assure you that you need not worry about tonight.” She looked at him, confusion clearly written across her face.
How do I speak of this with her?
“What I mean is . . .” He tried to speak delicately. “I promise not to make any demands of you as your husband until you wish for it.”

There was a point in Elizabeth’s thoughts where she felt she could not hurt any more than she was. All she heard him say was that Mr. Darcy did not wish her in his bed and it was too much. She let out a sob of pain, new tears forming with each word he said.
He does not wish to even share my bed?
She thought again of her first encounter with him.
“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.
”
And yet there were those engaging eyes during the dance at the ball! She swallowed her pride and tried to speak. “Mr. Darcy . . .” she began. It came out high-pitched and clipped.

“Please Elizabeth, call me Fitzwilliam or William. I would prefer it.”

How could I use such a familiar name when he seems so reluctant to even marry me! And why does he keep calling me Elizabeth? I never gave him permission to do so, not at the ball when I was in his arms, and not now!
She took a deep breath. They were married now and he could use her Christian name. He could call her anything he wished. She rallied her strength and cleared her throat, “If that is what you wish, I will abide by both your requests . . . I am your wife and I vowed to obey you . . .” It was all she could do to speak calmly, and she looked away again, gazing out the window in an effort to regain control over herself.

“Dearest Elizabeth, I do not wish for you only to obey. I want you to be happy!”

Why was he speaking so intimately with her? Dearest Elizabeth? She let out another sigh. It was only appropriate now that they were husband and wife. But all it did was confuse her more. His voice was soft and caring, but his eyes anxious and sad! Oh, how frustrating! If only she knew why her father insisted on them marrying when it was Wickham who was so inappropriate! Perhaps her father had refused to listen to even Mr. Darcy as he had refused to listen to her. Now he was in an arranged marriage to a woman who couldn’t stop crying! She took a deep breath and collected herself.
This will not do! I am stronger than this! I know he does not care for me but I must get control of myself.
Although the pain was raw, and she felt like unleashing her sadness, she knew her fate now. She was married to a man who did not love her.

Regardless of how comforting it felt to be in his arms or the stirrings inside her that she felt when she danced with him, he had promised not to force her into his bed. How much she even wanted such a thing was still unknown. What a strange promise to make. Certainly he could demand his rights as a husband. What man has the fortitude to avoid such a thing when they will be in each other’s presence regularly? She pondered on this promise for a while. If it was true that Mr. Darcy was not attracted to her, perhaps it would be an easy thing to avoid her presence.
If he was indifferent, she reasoned, he would not have made such a promise. If he cared . . . no, Mr. Darcy could not truly care for her, in spite of his professed endearments. Once again she felt overcome with emotion but bit back the tears that sprang to her eyes. This moping was not in her nature. She was what others would call a strong, confident lady. It was not in her nature to focus on the sorrow she felt. At some point she would have to learn to accept a loveless marriage. One thing she knew for certain was that she did not want to continue to hurt this way. She committed herself to try her hardest to preserve or merely erect a certain level of companionship with Mr. Darcy. If nothing else, she would be a good wife to him. She turned her head back to him and gave him the best smile she could create under the circumstances.
Yes, companionship I can live with; it may not be love, but what more can I expect?