Page 35 of Time Stands Still

Darcy exchanged an apologetic glance with Elizabeth before addressing her mother. “You are too kind, Mrs. Bennet. However, we have already made arrangements for our lodging.”

“The inn at Meryton, I suppose,” Mrs. Bennet lamented. “Oh, I should not advise it! The beds are quite damp, I hear. You must stay with us, we insist! We have plenty of room, and it would be no trouble at all.”

“I must apologize for not informing you sooner, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The arrangements were only confirmed yesterday. We shall be staying at Netherfield Park.”

Elizabeth looked at him in astonishment, while her mother’s jaw fell slack. “Netherfield!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “But the house is let! Or rather, it is un-let! Mr. Bingley has given up his lease!”

“Indeed,” Darcy said calmly. “I have reached an agreement with the owner. I have taken the lease myself, with the intention to purchase.”

This news rendered Mrs. Bennet momentarily speechless, her mouth agape. Elizabeth, for her part, stared at him in utter astonishment. “Purchased!” Mrs. Bennet finally cried, her voice a mixture of shock and delight.

“It is a matter of practicality,” he explained, his gaze finding Elizabeth’s. She could see the gentle reassurance in his eyes, the silent message that this was for them, for her. “It provides a suitable residence for myself, my sister, and my cousin during the period of our engagement. It will also serve to host our guests for the wedding.” He then added, his voice softening almost imperceptibly, “And after we are married, it will be a home for us to use whenever we visit Longbourn.”

This man, whom she had once thought the epitome of pride and selfishness, was possessed of a thoughtfulness, a deep and abiding sense of responsibility, that continued to amaze her. She gave him a small, grateful smile.

“Well!” Mr. Bennet said from the doorway of his study, having observed the entire scene with quiet amusement. “It seems we are to have you as a neighbour after all, Mr. Darcy. I trust you will find the neighbourhood just as diverting as you did on your last visit.”

Darcy bowed. “I am certain I shall, sir.”

The morning was fine, and after the initial excitement had somewhat subsided, a walk was proposed. Mr. Bennet, having fulfilled his social duty, quickly retreated to the familiar comfort of his library. Mrs. Bennet remained at the house to give directions to her staff, her mind no doubt already full of Netherfield and its kitchens. This left the Bennet sisters and their guests from Netherfield to their own company. The party set out, enjoying the pleasant air, but the group soon separated, as if by some unspoken, natural accord.

As they strolled through the lanes near Longbourn, Colonel Fitzwilliam fell into step beside Jane. Elizabeth, walking just behind with Darcy, could not help but overhear their conversation.

“You are fond of flowers, Miss Bennet?” the Colonel asked, gesturing to a patch of wild primroses growing by the path.

“I am,” Jane replied, her sweet smile gracing him. “Their beauty is so simple, so unadorned. They do not strive for attention, and yet they delight the eye.”

“My sentiments precisely,” he said, his gaze fixed on her with open admiration. “I have always thought a wildflower more lovely than any hothouse bloom. It has a strength, a resilience, that I find most… affecting.”

Jane smiled, a serene and genuine expression. “You are a student of character, then, Colonel, and not only of botany.”

He chuckled, a warm and pleasant sound. “One must be, in my profession. And what does your study of flowers tell you of them, Miss Bennet?”

“They tell me,” Jane replied, her eyes twinkling, “that even in the most cultivated garden, the wild spirit often finds a way to bloom most beautifully.”

Elizabeth could not help but smile. She turned to Darcy, a hopeful note in her voice. “Your cousin seems quite taken with my sister.”

Darcy looked at Jane and the Colonel, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face. “He is,” he said. “And Miss Bennet… she seems happy in his company.” He turned to Elizabeth, his gaze full of a sincere and newfound humility. “I will say no more on the matter, Elizabeth. I have learned my lesson. I will not presume to know what is in another’s heart, least of all your sister’s. Their happiness is their own to find, and I will not interfere.”

“A wise resolution,” Elizabeth replied with a solemn nod that was entirely betrayed by the sparkle in her eyes. “Given your past successes, I believe the hearts of all unmarried persons in our acquaintance will be much safer for it.”

He stopped then, pulling her to face him. He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head as if in wonder. “God, how I love you, Elizabeth.” He simply pulled her into his arms, holding her fast against his chest. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the solid feel of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. She felt a profound sense of safety, of coming home. It was a feeling more intoxicating than any kiss. She sighed, a soft sound of pure contentment, and felt his arms tighten around her for a brief, perfect moment before he gently released her.

As they continued their walk, he returned to the subject of Netherfield. "Elizabeth," he began, his tone serious, "I must ask your forgiveness. I ought to have discussed the matter of Netherfield with you first. But the opportunity presented itself, and I confess I acted upon it without consulting you. I hope you are not displeased."

"Displeased?" Elizabeth laughed. "Fitzwilliam, you have made my mother the happiest woman in Hertfordshire. She is already planning how to arrange the guest rooms. There is nothing to forgive." Her expression then softened. "It was a most thoughtful gesture, Fitzwilliam."

He took her hand, his expression becoming gentle. "Her happiness was certainly a consideration," he admitted, a hint of a smile in his eyes. "There was another reason, Elizabeth. One I did not wish to speak of before your mother." He paused. "I have considered that should the day ever come that your father is no longer master of Longbourn, I would not have your mother and sisters without a home to go to."

Elizabeth stopped. She looked at him, at this man she had so wrongly judged, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “You have thought of everything,” she whispered.

“I have thought of you,” he replied simply.

“I thank you, Fitzwilliam. For your kindness to my family.” She then gave him a playful, teasing look. “Though I must warn you, if my mother learns she has the free run of Netherfield’s kitchens and gardens, she will take over its management entirely, and you shall have no peace.”

He laughed. “I believe I can endure it, provided its new mistress is there to endure it with me.”

Later that afternoon, the entire party found their way back to the Longbourn parlour. It was a scene of pleasant domesticity. Colonel Fitzwilliam was engaged in a quiet conversation with Jane near the window. Darcy was in a surprisingly animated discussion with Mr. Bennet, who had been lured from his library by the prospect of an intelligent conversation about agricultural improvements. In a quiet corner, Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to a most unexpected sight. Georgiana was huddled with Mary, the two of them speaking in low, earnest tones over a book of music. A short while later, this nascent connection drew them to the pianoforte.