Page 22 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

I held her close for a long time.

“Me too.”

My mother appeared behind her, complaining about the slowness of the carriage, the state of the roads, and the cost of the journey. Lydia and Kitty bombarded me with questions about the officers I might have met in Kent—demonstrating a grasp of geography as remarkable as their interests. Mary informed me she had prepared several edifying extracts on economy.

My father waited until evening to summon me to his library.

He had aged since my departure. The change showed neither in his hair nor his features, but in the weariness of his smile.

“Well, Lizzy,” he said, “Jane assures me you know enough to judge me even more severely than usual.”

I sat facing him.

“She told me about Mr. Ellison.”

“A charming friend, so long as he lived and no one called in their debts.”

“Why did you sign that guarantee?”

“Because I was young, convinced that five thousand pounds was merely an abstract figure, and certain the future would have the courtesy never to arrive.”

His irony wounded me.

“The future has arrived, Papa.”

He removed his spectacles.

“Yes.”

I placed Mr. Darcy’s sealed letter before him.

“What is this?”

“An official request for consent, I believe. And perhaps something else.”

He looked at me over the paper.

“From whom?”

“Mr. Darcy.”

The silence was so complete that I heard the wood settling in the fireplace.

“Mr. Darcy asked you to marry him?”

“Yes.”

“And you accepted?”

I told him everything: the proposal, my response, the revelation concerning Jane, our quarrel, Darcy’s letter, and the delay I had requested. I omitted only the details concerning Georgiana, which were not mine to share.

My father listened without joking.

When he finished reading Darcy’s letter, he remained silent for a long time.

“He knows about the debt,” he said at last.

“I did not give him your name or that of the creditor.”