Page 37 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

I was beginning to understand that perhaps love did not spring from a single revelation. It advanced through acts, through difficult truths, through choices made again and again when no one promised a reward.

Mr. Darcy had not asked Jane's forgiveness to convince me.

That was precisely why he had succeeded.

Chapter 12

Elizabeth

Over the next two weeks, Mr. Darcy became almost a regular visitor at Longbourn.

He never came without Mr. Bingley, at least not officially. My future brother-in-law arrived with the eagerness of a man who could not bear to be away from Jane for more than a few hours, and Darcy accompanied him with a reserve that might suggest he was sacrificing himself to friendship. Yet the moment he entered the drawing room, his gaze sought me out.

I began to live in anticipation of that moment.

This habit troubled me. I did not want gratitude for his help to turn into affection simply through proximity. I watched myself with a rigor that would have amused Charlotte. When Darcy spoke to my father, I searched for pride in his tone. When he listened to Mary, I watched for impatience. When he endured Lydia's teasing, I waited for contempt.

I sometimes found stiffness. I no longer found the cruelty I had attributed to him.

He did not pretend to appreciate everyone dear to me. He did not laugh when my mother repeated an anecdote. He firmly refused to participate in Lydia's gossip. But he made the effort to respond, to refrain from humiliating, to acknowledge that the Bennets' faults did not strip them of all dignity.

One afternoon, he came upon Kitty in tears in the small parlor. Lydia was to dine with the Forsters without her, and to Kitty this exclusion seemed a catastrophe. I was about to intervene when Darcy stopped beside my sister.

“Miss Catherine,” he said, “Bingley claims you know all the best routes to Meryton. I need advice on which one avoids the ruts. Would you be willing to show me on the map?”

Kitty dried her tears at once, flattered to be consulted. He spent ten minutes examining a route with her—one he certainly knew better than she did. When he left, my sister had forgotten her humiliation.

“You didn’t need that map,” I told him in the corridor.

“No.”

“You lied.”

“I asked a question to which I already knew the answer. It seems to me the fault is less grave than those you have already reproached me for.”

“You’re making progress.”

“Your approval remains overwhelmingly generous.”

I smiled.

“Why did you do it?”

“Because she was crying.”

He seemed to find this reason sufficient. It was.

The visit that changed my view still further took place at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley had invited our entire family to dinner to officially celebrate his engagement. His sister Caroline had returned from London the day before, accompanied by the Hursts. The smile she directed at Jane had the sweetness of vinegar.

“My dear Miss Bennet,” she said, “what a delightful surprise. Charles always knows how to create unexpected events.”

Jane responded with her usual courtesy. I did not possess the same supply.

“Some events only surprise those who have worked hard not to see them,” I remarked.

Caroline looked at me, then turned her attention to Darcy, who had just entered.

He was not alone.