by Tilly Davis
But when they returned to Longbourn an hour later Mrs. Bennet had some news for them which would come as a great surprise.
‘I despise idle gossip in all its forms,’ Mrs. Bennet said, removing her visiting bonnet and laying it on the hat stand, ‘but I must impart something which Lady Lucas has just told me,’ and she entered the parlour, sitting between Jane and Elizabeth who had also just returned from their walk.
‘How is Charlotte?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Charlotte? Well, she is alive, dear. But this is far more important. Mr. Darcy is no longer betrothed to Caroline Bingley.’
It took a moment for the words to sink in.
‘No longer betrothed?’ Elizabeth said.
‘That’s right, the engagement has been called off, Lady Lucas learnt it from her housekeeper whose daughter is a housemaid at Netherfield.’
‘But surely that is just the gossip of servants,’ Elizabeth said.
‘Sir William also confirmed it, he had written from London this morning.’
‘Well, how does he know?’
‘It doesn’t matter how he knows, the important thing is that it is a fact that Mr. Darcy is no longer engaged to Caroline Bingley,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘and whilst I do not delight at the misfortune of others such a fact can only serve as something of a panacea to our own recent troubles.’
‘Well, I am not surprised,’ Jane said, ‘I should wonder why anyone should wish to marry Caroline Bingley, she is detestable.’
Elizabeth sat in silence, pondering what her mother had just told her, and wondering what ever could have caused such a dramatic change of heart in Mr. Darcy.
‘You are in good company, Elizabeth,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘though I wonder who it was that called off the engagement, it must have been him, I cannot imagine a lady such as her to do such a thing. We shan’t see him here in the district again though, of that make no mistake.’
And with that Mrs. Bennet left the parlour eager to impart the idle gossip she so detested to the rest of the household.
‘Mr. Bennet no longer engaged to Miss Bingley, well, what a turn up,’ Jane said, ‘what will he do now?’
‘I really can’t imagine,’ Elizabeth said, lost in thoughts and possibilities.
The family had dined late that evening, a piece of pork stuffed with apples and chestnuts being much to everyone’s taste and so their presence at the table was prolonged, all being in good spirits at the news of Lydia’s safety, the cathartic effect of Miss Bingley’s sorrow another common factor of their merrymaking. Even Mr. Bennet was feeling a little better than he had these past few days, the stress over his daughter’s disappearance now lifted.
‘Well, we shall raise a glass to Lydia, and drink to her health. Tomorrow I shall write to her and inform her that she must return to Longbourn with her new husband just as soon as they are able. A man with means and independence is worth celebrating.’ And the family clinked their glasses together in a toast to Lydia.
Elizabeth herself, having reflected upon the news she had learnt that day, also found herself somewhat buoyed, though she was not entirely sure why. After all it was doubtful that she would ever see Mr. Darcy again, let alone have opportunity to express any sentiments she harboured for him, nevertheless it cheered her to at least know that perhaps he, like her, had chosen happiness over duty in rejecting the odious Caroline Bingley.
It was now after eight o’clock, and the shadows were lengthening around Longbourn as the family sat digesting their dinner. Mr. Bennet had almost fallen asleep at his chair and it was only when a knock came at the door that he started from his dozing.
‘Whoever can that be at this hour?’ Mrs. Bennet said, as the housemaid went to answer the door, ‘Mary, go and see who it is. If it is the tinkers tell them we are buying no more from them, the handle of the coal shovel they sold us came clean off in my hands just the other day.’
Mary went to investigate and returned momentarily, looking shocked and surprised.
‘It is Mr. Darcy.’
At this Mrs. Bennet let out a shriek, causing Mr. Bennet to start from his chair and exclaim in surprise.
Jane glanced at Elizabeth as Mrs. Bennet got to her feet.
‘He desires an audience with Elizabeth,’ Mary continued, ‘shall I ask him to wait in the parlour?’
‘Well, don’t leave the gentleman standing in the hallway, Mary. Mr. Bennet, go and speak with him.’ Mrs. Bennet said.
‘It is Elizabeth he desires an audience with,’ the gentleman said, ‘not her ailing father.’
And all eyes now turned on Elizabeth, who flushed red.
‘Do not delay, Elizabeth,’ Jane urged, as her sister rose slowly from the table.
Mr. Darcy was the last person whom Elizabeth had expected to call at Longbourn that evening, she could not believe that he was here. The last time she had seen him had been the moment she had joined eyes with him in the church that fateful afternoon. What ever would she say to him now that he was stood in the hallway of Longbourn?
‘Elizabeth,’ Mrs. Bennet said impatiently.
Resolved now to act, Elizabeth Bennet went to the door of the dining room, which opened out onto the hallway. She made a considerable show of opening and closing the door behind her, Mr. Bennet not preventing his wife from rising from the table to place her ear to the keyhole.
‘For once, my dear, do not set your expectations high only for them to dissolve as you listen helplessly,’ he said, causing his remaining daughters to laugh.
In the hallway Elizabeth now came face to face with Mr. Darcy, he appearing a little dishevelled from his ride, but otherwise ever the gentleman, his riding cloak now slung over his arm and top hat removed.
‘Won’t you let me take those for you?’ Elizabeth said, desperate to find something with which to begin the conversation.
‘Thank you,’ he said, a little bemused as she blushed scarlet and took his outdoor wear from him.
‘Won’t you step this way,’ she said again, sounding ever more the meek and dutiful schoolgirl.
He thanked her once again.
Awkwardly they entered the parlour, he waiting for her to sit and she doing the same before remembering herself and offering him a seat opposite to her by the fire. The candles and glowing coals offering only a small amount of light, though enough for each to see the other.
‘You have come from Netherfield?’ she asked.
‘Netherfield, no, I would not be welcome there,’ he replied.
Elizabeth scolded herself internally for asking such a silly question, though of course it was not a silly question to Mr. Darcy who did not, at that moment, realise that Elizabeth knew his engagement to Caroline Bingley had been broken off. The lives of the upper levels of society being ever so complicated to follow at times, as the prior events recounted here do demonstrate.
‘You should know firstly that I have come from London,’ Mr. Darcy began, ‘and you should know also that my engagement to Miss Bingley is postponed, or rather called off. Yes, called off, that’s right, there is to be no marriage owing to…owing to differences of opinion. Yes, differences of opinion.’
Mr. Darcy really was finding the proceedings awfully difficult, he had never been so nervous as he was in approaching Netherfield that evening. Twice he had dismounted his horse and attempted to persuade himself to turn around, so great was his anxiety as to what he perceived might transpire during his audience at Longbourn.
‘But forgive me, I have spoken of myself yet I should enquire firstly of you, dear Elizabeth, are you well? Surely pleased to have returned to Longbourn or is there perhaps some sorrow in your heart over the events in Hunsford?’
Elizabeth paused for a moment before answering.
‘I am very well, thank you, sir, though if truth be told the events of these previous weeks have played heavily upon me and the memory of them does seem to weigh me down. I look forward, and not backward though, despite our family’s most recent trauma.’
‘Ah, dear Lyd
ia,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘I am so glad that she is safe.’
‘How do you know of Lydia’s troubles?’ Elizabeth said, surely, she thought, Mr. Darcy could not yet of heard of the scandal which had befallen her sister?
Mr. Darcy recognised his mistake even before the words came out.
‘I…well, you see…I know Wickham, and I…I met one of the generals of the regiment in London and he spoke to me of Wickham and mentioned that it was Lydia with whom he had eloped, but that she was safe.’
Elizabeth seemed content with that answer, she herself wondering if she should reveal the fact that she had heard of Mr. Darcy’s separation from betrothal with Caroline Bingley through the network of idle gossip which Meryton was famed for.
‘We are glad that she is safe,’ Elizabeth said, ‘tell me, do you think Mr. Wickham will indeed act honourably?’
‘From the limited facts which I know of the case I believe it to be true,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘Wickham is a scoundrel but he is not a man without some shred of decency in him, fear not. But, Elizabeth, it is not of other people’s lives that I have come here to speak but more so of ours, or I mean, my own.’
‘Of our lives?’ Elizabeth said.
‘May I speak the truth?’ Mr. Darcy said.
‘I should not wish you to speak of anything else,’ Elizabeth said.
‘The truth, if it be known, and no doubt already it is the latest scandal of all the fashionable circles,’ Mr. Darcy continued, ‘is that I broke off my engagement to Caroline Bingley because of you.’
At this Elizabeth gave a gasp, however could she be responsible for the breaking of such a match?
‘What ever do you mean?’ she asked.
‘After the events in Hunsford, I spent some further time at Rosings Parks with my aunt but it was just a few days before I returned to Netherfield, Charles having taken the house for a further period in order to ascertain if he should make an offer upon it, which I believe he shall. I returned there forthwith, to see to Caroline as much as to see my friend. But when I arrived I found her to be most out of humour.’
‘In what way?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘She took it upon herself to delight in your misfortunes, and the downfall of your dear family. One such attack I could perhaps have sustained but her poison kept emanating until it had so consumed her that nothing she could speak of was good or proper, it only concerned her delight in your downfall. Constantly she demanded fresh details of that awful day, seeking further charge against you, declaring you to be everything she believed she was not. I realise that in recounting this I may cause you upset, but I do so only to show that I saw during those few days her true colours shining forth, colours I could not find it in my heart to cherish any longer.’
‘And so you left?’
‘I left on that night, the night she could not stop herself in declaring her foul thoughts towards you, for I realised that in decrying you she was in fact decrying herself. It is she who is wicked, cruel of heart and without a shred of love or decency in her heart. And you, dear Elizabeth, you are everything she is not.’
At these words Elizabeth blushed and Mr. Darcy also flushed red, realising now that he had no choice but to go on, his hand now played.
‘But there are some questions I have desired to ask you too,’ he said, ‘questions which have truly vexed my heart these past days, if not weeks and months. I am sorry if they carry much impertinence, and are not befitting things to ask of a lady’s heart but if you will even give the most simple of answers then I should be fully satisfied. Tell me please, dear Elizabeth, why you assented to marry Mr. Collins? Was it simply because I had failed so miserably to make my mark upon you and demonstrate my affections?’
For this was one conclusion, the worst conclusion, which Mr. Darcy had settled upon as he had contemplated the reasons why it was Mr. Collins that Elizabeth had chosen, instead of seeking to pursue the interest he believed he had given.
‘It is true, sir,’ Elizabeth began after a moment’s pause, ‘that you were slow to express your true affections, though even now I am unsure as to what they might be. But it was not because of your lack of forthrightness that I chose the ever-persuasive Mr. Collins, I chose him because of the threat to Longbourn and our family if I did not assent to his proposal.’
‘And what exactly is the threat?’ Mr. Darcy asked.
‘The threat was simple, if one of us did not marry him then upon my father’s death, when Longbourn passed to him, as it is his right, then we should all be turned out from our very beds and sent away, he himself no doubt selling Longbourn to the highest bidder or else filling it with tenants to line his pockets.’
‘Well, that is perfectly awful, and so you felt duty-bound to marriage?’
‘Much the same as I am sure you yourself felt duty-bound to your betrothal to Caroline Bingley, sir.’ Elizabeth said.
At this Mr. Darcy paused, and thought for a moment.
‘We are both dutiful in our own way,’ he said, ‘but you ask me what my true affections are, perhaps if you might permit me to do so, I will tell you?’
‘I should be eager to hear of them,’ Elizabeth said.
‘The truth, once again, then, Elizabeth, is that from that first moment I saw you at the Assembly Room ball I have felt nothing but a deep passion for you, despite my inability to show it or to speak of it. I have behaved as a fool in not being more forthright, that is my greatest failing. If I had simply cast aside the societal expectations and followed my heart then the sorrow you have experienced, that we have both experienced might have been avoided. Yet even now I find it hard to speak the words of my heart. Elizabeth, can you forgive me my stupidity?’
‘I can,’ she said, and he took hold of her hand.
‘When I saw you in the church that day,’ she said, ‘I knew I could not pursue marriage to Mr. Collins, as much as I knew how my actions would grieve so many, even for him I feel some sense of sorrow, for he would have treated me kindly even though not loved me, nor I him. But the sight of you reminded me that perhaps there could be more than simply a life of duty, that perhaps a life of love was more important. And so, I fled. But at that moment, of course, I had no notion that your betrothal to Miss Bingley would not endure, I felt myself to be a fool for chasing after love when I had also eluded that love by not allowing myself to be charmed and feted by you as I recognised perhaps you wished.’
‘Then we have both been foolish perhaps?’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘and both too duty-bound for our own good.’
‘But what are we to do now?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘For too long I have looked to my head to govern my heart,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘I have allowed duty and the affairs of high office to dictate my actions and give me guidance as to how to live my life. But not anymore, no longer will I be bound by the restraints which have caused me such unhappiness. And so, I must ask you, dear Elizabeth, each of us being free to assent or decline and each of us able to do so now, would you marry me?’
At these words Mrs. Bennet leapt up from her position by the keyhole, for no one had been able to restrain her from what she considered to be her right as he daughter’s chaperone, and clasped her hands together in delight, the rest of the family looking on with bemusement through the open door of the dining room.
Inside the parlour Elizabeth now sat somewhat taken aback, Mr. Darcy had knelt down before her and taken hold of her hand, he was looking into her eyes and as she looked back she knew that there was only one answer she wished to give.
‘I could not imagine a greater happiness than this,’ she said, ‘I will marry you, yes, of course I shall, right now if it were possible, right this very moment.’
She sprang from the sofa as the gentleman himself rose from the floor and the two embraced as the door flung open and Mrs. Bennet appeared, her hands clasped in joy.
‘Elizabeth,’ she exclaimed, ‘betrothed, come now you all, come and congratulate your sister, she is betrothed.’
‘Mother,’ Elizabeth
said, ‘and I thought you had always taught us that it was the poorest of manners to listen at keyholes.’
‘Well, one could not help overhearing certain elements of your conversation, such were the tones of voice and the arrangements of this house which makes private conversation almost impossible. Oh, my dear girl, come here to your mother, an engagement has come to Longbourn, Mr. Bennet, come now to congratulate the gentleman.’
‘Sir,’ Mr. Darcy said, as Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway, ‘forgive me for not asking permission of yourself before I asked Elizabeth the question of marriage, my passions were somewhat enflamed and I …’
‘My dear sir,’ Mr. Bennet, ‘in the twilight of my days the notion of conforming to society’s whims and regulations interests me not, I once said to Elizabeth that she may choose her own path to happiness come what may, and now that she has chosen that path once again, I am grateful to you for being the one whom she has chosen.’
‘Thank you, sir, thank you, a thousand thank yous,’ Mr. Darcy said, warmly embracing Mr. Bennet by the hand.
Elizabeth was now surrounded by her sisters, who could not believe the turn of events which had transpired, each wished to congratulate Elizabeth, Jane embracing her sister to her as the others now talked nineteen to the dozen in excitement at what had transpired.
‘I shall have to write to Lydia at once,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘two of my daughters married, and good marriages at that, two daughters and to think I so recently wallowed in tragedy as to our misfortune. Come, Mr. Bennet, you must propose a toast.’
And Mr. Bennet did indeed do that, pouring glasses of blackberry wine for those who were there present, the toast being the happiness of Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam.
‘To Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam,’ the family said, clinking their glasses together, and what a happy scene it was indeed at Longbourn that night. So much doubt and speculation was now resolved by the simple meeting of two hearts who had now, after so much pondering and distress, come together in a love which would surely know no bounds.