A Fine Joke

by Amy D'Orazio

Pemberley and all of its holdings were laid before her. To her credit, she did not gasp or in any manner give way to her shock, but then again, he supposed he had already shocked her so deeply that to shock her further might be impossible. “This will be your part of it,” he told her, pointing at the page. “No matter what, this sum is yours, wholly yours, whether or not you bear my child, whether you produce an heir, whether you…” Brief momentary distaste arose in his throat and seized his breath for a moment, “…marry again. I mean, of course you shall marry again. I hope you marry, I want nothing but happiness for you.”

“What about your cousin?” She had not removed her hand from his, allowing it to rest in his palm. He believed he likely should not and yet he did, begin to caress her knuckles with his thumb. “I had often heard you were promised to her and the advantages of such a union are considerable. It seems that this would have been the easiest solution to your dilemma.” “It is the clear answer, is it not? And I was most surprised that my uncle and Fitzwilliam seemed to think it a forgone conclusion. But as you have noted, I am selfish and though I have tried to attend to those things you have charged me with, I am nonetheless determined that my last days shall include much joy and pleasure.” He waited until she looked at him and added, “Only you, Elizabeth, can bring me the happiness I have so longed for.”

“When I have imagined our marriage—” “You have imagined our marriage?” She looked at him with surprise. “Yes,” he admitted with a little embarrassment. “Perhaps too much. I suppose I should have done better to imagine my proposal with greater conscience.” Her eyes flew wide, and she leant back in astonishment, her hand on her chest; then, she laughed. Such a delight it was to be the founder of her amusement!—he

what painful truth did you learn at Netherfield?” He leaned in as she had done. They were very close now, and he imagined that the rest of the party might notice their intimacy—if they cared to look. He found he was rather indifferent to what anyone else thought of it. Elizabeth was smiling at him and laughing, and he cared for nothing else. “The painful truth is that when a man is falling in love, attempting to deny or resist it can only lead to utter foolishness.” She blushed, deeply

course, I think all ladies like to shop?” She laughed. “Yes, I like to shop very well indeed, but surely you would not anticipate squiring me about to the shops?” “Here is my secret,” he told her. In an exaggerated whisper, he said, “I abhor shopping, but I believe I would abhor being without your company even more.” She laughed, just a little this time, her colour still heightened and her eyes sparkling.

“Sir William, you have come to my assistance before, to no avail. I entreat you, sir, do your best this time, that I might successfully secure this lady’s hand for a dance or two.” Sir William looked a bit surprised at being so addressed. Darcy continued on, casting a teasing look at Elizabeth. “You must recall it, sir. This lady, in your house, flatly refused to stand up with me. I was made desolate by such a rejection.” “Desolate, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth laughed. “I should think not. You carried on admirably through the rest of the evening.” “No.” Darcy shook his head. “I assure you, I was despairing. I am only rather adept at concealing my distress—just as you are adept at concealing your smiles.”

She had watched him as he stumbled about, stupid and helpless in his attempt to describe his emotion and when she could, when the eyes of the room were turned elsewhere, she leant into him. Quick as a wink, she kissed his cheek then just as quickly pulled back, whispering, “I missed you too. I found myself rather ridiculously lovelorn.” He bit his lip to keep from shouting in exultation or doing something equally foolish. Nonetheless, he was certain the broad, silly grin he wore the rest of the evening told the truth of it quite well. He was quite shackled to her, heart, mind and soul, and now they wanted only for the Church of England to give their nod to it.

He could not, he simply could not… and yet he must. He tossed himself into a chair, allowing a deep groan to tear itself from his throat. Burying his head in his hands, he moaned aloud. “Dear lord but I want nothing more than to marry Elizabeth Bennet.” “How very fortunate then, that we find ourselves in both possession of the needed license and the vicar.”