Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth

by Alyssa Jefferson

__________

  The visit to the Gardiners was brightened the following Monday when Elizabeth and Jane awoke to a surprise visitor—their father. Mr. Bennet, having real affection for his daughters—and Elizabeth especially—and moreover being rather irritated with his wife, but lacking the courage to tell her so, had ridden on horseback to London with only the clothes on his back. A carriage, of course, was to follow with a trunk, for his wife would never permit him to be without such necessities as behooved a man of his station in life. Lady Sarah had no fear of his anger lasting, and she was right not to be afraid. A little visit with his daughters was all Mr. Bennet would need to be put in good spirits again.

  Edward Gardiner had never been known intimately to Mr. Bennet, and Mrs. Gardiner not at all. It was rather presumptuous, therefore, that he would call on them—were it not the house where his daughters were staying. That must have been enough to get him in the door, but the kindness of his former brother-in-law, and the attentiveness of his wife, made Mr. Bennet convinced of its being a good plan, and in fact the best thing he could have done, not only to come but to stay one entire week with his daughters.

  He convinced his former brother-in-law not to say a word if he saw the girls before breakfast, and sat calmly as could be while he waited for the ladies to join him at the table. His laughter upon seeing their faces was almost enough to wake the baby who had been rocking in her nurse’s arms in the room just beyond them.

  “Papa!” Jane cried, running to her father to embrace him with true affection. Elizabeth was no less enthusiastic, waiting only for the elder sister to release her father before throwing her arms around his neck, which provoked even more laughter from the cheerful old gentleman.

  “Good heavens!” he cried. “I would have come sooner if I had known what a welcome I would receive here! I assure you, nobody cares two straws for me at home, compared with this.”

  “Oh, Papa,” Jane said, shaking her head. “I know that cannot be true.”

  “It is as true as I have said,” he chortled. “They hardly knew I had gone away.”

  This allusion brought about questions, for the surprise visit was not uncharacteristic of their father, but the scheme was nonetheless unlikely to win his wife’s support. He did not say he was cross with Lady Sarah, but erelong enough was said to make the girls convinced of its being so.

  The thought of any ill will at home made Jane uneasy, and to her father she said, “Papa, tell us about home. We are both longing to hear how the girls get on, for Mary has only written to us once, and Kitty not at all!”

  Mr. Bennet hesitated. He had no wish to speak ill of his wife, whom he was beginning to miss even then, but he also could not brook the idea of lying to his daughters. After a pause, he said, “It is a little crowded. We all miss you a great deal.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “It would be more crowded with us there. With three daughters and a son, I am sure Miss Watson has her hands full.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded, sipping his tea with some hesitation. “She is busy,” he said slowly, “but we are all a little busy. Lady Sarah has the girls cleaning out the cellar.”

  Elizabeth and Jane exchanged astonished looks. “The cellar? Whatever for?” Elizabeth looked earnestly at her father and said, “Do you no longer employ servants for such tasks?”

  “Oh, we do, to be sure,” Mr. Bennet said. “And I do not mean that she has sent them off with instructions to clean the cellar.”

  “Then what do you mean, sir?” Elizabeth asked, carefully but feeling a little bit of dread. Her father had the look in his eye that he sometimes had when he was laughing at something that was not particularly funny in the common person’s opinion.

  “Well,” he said, with a slight frown as he adjusted his weight in his chair. “It began when they first arrived at home. Kitty was disappointed that there were not any apple tarts. It is not the time of year for them, you know, but she was hopeful. It is her favorite thing to eat when she is at Longbourn; I know you do not have them at school.”

  Jane replied, “No, we have puddings but never tarts.” She gave Elizabeth a look that showed her discomfort, but their father did not seem to notice it.

  “In any case,” Mr. Bennet said, “she wanted one, and Lady Sarah sent her to the cellar to look for apples herself. She said it would be quicker if she just ran down. So she did, and of course there were no apples. But when she returned, she found that she had lost a ribbon on her shoe. It should not have mattered very much, but Lady Sarah did not want to replace it with a new ribbon, when the other was just lying there in the cellar. So she sent her down to look for it again, and while she was there, she asked her to bring up any fruit she found, that they might have some kind of tart.”

  Elizabeth again longed to say that a servant could have been employed for the purpose, but she held her tongue. There was nothing to say that her father did not already know—his arch look told her as much. Moreover, she had already said so once, and she did not like to be redundant.

  “Kitty was downstairs so long,” Mr. Bennet continued, “that at last Lady Sarah sent Mary after her. The girls found a great deal of preserved fruit and other things, far too much to bring up for a tart. So, it came to pass that Lady Sarah asked the girls to make an inventory of the fruit there.”

  That, Elizabeth knew, could never be construed by anybody to be the rightful duty of any persons except the servants. She did not say so, however. Instead, she asked dryly, “All the girls or only the eldest two?”

  “Little Sarah could hardly be expected to do it,” Mr. Bennet said. “Your stepmother said since she had not expected Mary and Kitty to come home, she was unsure what she had to feed us all.”

  Again, a twinkle in her father’s eye told Elizabeth that he knew how absurd it all was, and she felt for what must have been the millionth time a strong sense of irritation and disappointment with him for allowing his wife to behave so to his own children. She had long known her father to be more committed to domestic harmony than principles of fairness. Still, it was hard to see him acting so unfeelingly toward his own children. Had Jane and Elizabeth come home, would he have behaved any differently? Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask herself the question, for she truly did not know the answer—though she had always felt herself to be a favorite with him. What was that, compared with his habits of leisure and the continual nagging of his wife?

  Jane, equally uncomfortable with the conversation and even less inclined to prolong it, then changed the subject, and they began to speak of something that Elizabeth found perhaps even more unpleasant. Jane began, with a sparkle in her eye that she must have known was suggestive of the truth, to tell her father about the people they had met since staying with the Gardiners—and, most emphatically, the young man, Mr. Dixon. Elizabeth was not totally without worry about Jane’s burgeoning romance with the young tradesman, however well her aunt and uncle thought of him. He was too little known to any of them, and too little able to rely on Jane’s fortune to enhance his own. He was but a stranger, and not a well-to-do one. How could Jane place him before her father’s attention? But she did attempt to do so, and she seemed to hope the news might travel home to Lady Sarah—for she mentioned her stepmother several times: “Lady Sarah would say they are not rich, however they are certainly far from poor;” “I suppose it makes no difference to you, but Lady Sarah may be interested to hear that the gentlemen we have met here are very handsome.”

  Jane’s cheerfulness never abated, despite the somber report the girls had received about home and their sisters. Elizabeth was shocked enough by it to be rendered relatively silent for the rest of breakfast. However, when later that day Jane and Elizabeth were alone again, Jane said to her sister with the full burden of her heart, “How unhappy our sisters must be!”

  Elizabeth sighed. “And how unhappy we will be, when we are next at home.”

  “But when shall that be, Lizzy? We were not invited home now, and who is to say we will be invited later? It is clear that Lady Sarah fi
nds even having two extra mouths to feed quite inconvenient.”

  “Oh, that is nothing but a ruse to make the girls unhappy, probably in the hopes that a report of it will reach us.”

  “Nonetheless,” Jane said, “I fear that we can no longer command a home at Longbourn. At least, not a pleasant one.”

  “Jane, nothing has changed since before. We have always known Lady Sarah is angry, and we have always been sure she would get over it in time.”

  “It is too uncertain! I cannot sit by and do nothing.”

  “What do you suggest?” Elizabeth asked.

  Jane sighed. “Perhaps…perhaps I was hasty in rejecting Mr. Pembroke’s offer.”

  Elizabeth, who had been working on embroidering a cushion, looked up from her work in surprise. “What?”

  “I am the eldest sister,” Jane explained gently. “It falls to my lot to take care of all my sisters, and how can I do that when I have no allowance, no home of my own? I could keep all my sisters with me, if I were married.”

  “I hardly think Mr. Pembroke would have allowed it,” Elizabeth answered. “He asked to marry you, not your three sisters. You know that he hardly ever used to speak to me. I believe he thought me too lively,” she added, making Jane smile. “And besides, you know you could never have been happy with him, Jane. You do not love him!”

  “I considered loving him as the only incentive for marriage,” Jane replied. “I should have considered the benefits it would afford, the stability and security for all my sisters—”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head in disgust. “Jane, this is just what Lady Sarah wanted you to think. She is working directly to guide your thoughts on the whole business, even now! She would have you regret your choice due only to money and mercenary concerns, when it is her own bad behavior—dare I say, inexcusable behavior—toward her husband’s children that has caused the trouble, not your choice. Nothing could have excused you for marrying a man you did not love, Jane.”

  Jane sighed. “I suppose you are right. My principles must be my guide, and what I knew then is still true now. To marry without love is abominable. Yet, I wish…” Then she paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.” She smiled and said in a brighter tone, “He is not the only man in the world. And I daresay he would not have me now anyway. I must fix my sights elsewhere.”

  Jane then rose and went to the bookshelf, and Elizabeth perceived that the conversation was now closed. Her sister did not look back toward her, but neither did she read. Her hands were still on the book on her lap, and her eyes gazed thoughtlessly at its words, while minute after minute passed away in silence and confusion. Elizabeth was left musing over Jane’s parting words, which were not entirely comforting to her. She did not want Jane to feel rushed into marrying before she was sure of her feelings, and she knew that Jane had never wanted such a situation for herself. It was only now, after being frightened by her stepmother, that Jane had any thought of the kind.

  When Mrs. Gardiner came down from the nursery, where she had been entertaining her little children, she told the girls that Mr. Gardiner was planning to give another dinner, this one in honor of their father’s visit.

  “We shall gather a similar party,” she told them, “excepting Mr. Potter. His place shall be filled by your father.”

  “Delightful!” Jane said. “My father will be so happy!”

  Elizabeth, knowing her father to be the even-tempered sort of man who is never exuberantly happy in anything of the kind, and moreover to be less fond of company than most people, raised her eyebrows silently.

  “I hope they are all able to come,” Jane said, “for Papa shall only be here one week. It is short notice.”

  “We shall have the party on Thursday,” Mrs. Gardiner replied, “and I believe the Smyths are always disengaged on Thursday evenings—unless of course there is another party of which I am unaware. I flatter myself that, if there were, we would be among the guests.”

  Jane nodded earnestly, and Elizabeth said, “And Mr. Dixon, as well? Shall Mr. Dixon be among the party?”

  Jane smiled and looked down at her hands as Mrs. Gardiner replied, “Oh! Yes, certainly. Your uncle has already spoken to him.”

  It would have been reassuring if Jane’s reaction to this had not been so untaught, so artless—but it was. It might be that Jane truly did like the gentleman, and whether this was a wise decision was entirely unknown to her. Her sister was not one to fall in love quickly, nor to do so without cause. Could Lady Sarah’s actions have already altered Jane’s character and decisions so much? One thing was certain: Jane would not make her stepmother happy by marrying Mr. Dixon. If Jane were to marry a man in trade, it would certainly make Lady Sarah most unhappy—and for their meeting to be a result of Lady Sarah’s own mean-hearted scheming was even worse. If Elizabeth could guarantee Jane’s happiness in such a situation, it would almost be enough to make her laugh.

  Mr. Bennet never liked going to town since he had married his second wife, but he now found it vastly pleasant. He had acquaintances and friends there whom he had not visited in some time, being usually kept by his wife from calling on anybody who was below her own high station in life. Now lodging in Gracechurch Street with his former brother-in-law, there was nothing preventing his visiting anybody he liked. The week was spent in visits, shopping, walks, and conversation with his favorite daughters. He so enjoyed his visit that he was disappointed on Thursday that it was almost ending. There was to be a dinner that day and a play at Covent Garden tomorrow, and then he was to go home. He was so distracted by his dread of returning to Longbourn that he failed to notice what must have otherwise been very obvious to everybody: the growing attachment between his eldest daughter and the handsome young man her uncle had invited to dinner.

  Mr. Dixon and Jane had only met the week before, but when he saw her in her uncle’s drawing room before dinner, he came to her as though she was the only person in the room. “Miss Bennet,” he said, taking her hand in so familiar a gesture that no attentive father could ever be excused for missing it. “How delightful that your esteemed father is here. It is a sad thing that his wife could not also come!”

  The idea of Lady Sarah ever setting foot in this house was so absurd that Jane hardly had an answer for it. She was too level-headed, however, to be much discomfited by it. She brought the gentleman to be introduced to her father, who was with Elizabeth and Mrs. Smyth in another part of the room.

  “Sir, I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Dixon said.

  Having little recollection of ever hearing of a person called Dixon, and not caring much to talk to him while Mrs. Gardiner’s very pretty friend was near, Mr. Bennet merely shook his hand and returned his attention to the others. Jane, however, was devoted from the first to Mr. Dixon. He seemed to have an interest in her that was perhaps even greater than ever, and for her part, she had an interest in marrying early that inclined her to attempt feelings of attachment greater than Elizabeth believed she could currently have. She laughed at his humor, complimented his intellect, and inquired into his business until they sat down at the table for supper. There, Elizabeth caught enough snippets of their conversation to feel her sister’s suitor was in some danger of being completely in love with her.

  “Have you indeed never been to the hill country?”

  Jane shook her head demurely. “No, never.”

  “It is the best place in the whole of England, Miss Bennet. I must beseech you not to deprive yourself any longer of such a pleasure!”

  Jane smiled and said that her time was not always her own. “My stepmother,” she explained at his quizzical look.

  “Would not she wish you to see beautiful places? To enjoy all England has to offer? No, I cannot think Lady Sarah would deprive you.”

  At the name “Lady Sarah,” Mr. Bennet also looked up, and was witness together with Elizabeth to the following exchange:

  “She has never deprived me of anything, but those advantages I have are all at her
choosing.”

  “Well, she cannot have chosen wrong; I must do her the justice of saying that. Nobody who knows you could believe your upbringing to have been lacking. You have every charm, every accomplishment, every cultivation of mind and manner that a young lady ought to have.”

  Elizabeth was shocked to hear such an open profession of admiration, and her father seemed surprised by it, too—though he did not say a word. Meanwhile, Jane was not yet so committed to falling in love and marrying that she could overcome her natural modesty and listen for more of the same. She instantly began speaking of something else, and Mr. Dixon followed suit—but with a melancholy look that showed he would much rather be making love than discussing the songs of Charles Dibdin.

  Dinner was followed by tea, as usual, and when the gentlemen joined the ladies, Elizabeth was rather surprised to find that her father had become acquainted—had actually taken pains to be acquainted—with Mr. Dixon. The two men entered the room together, and their discussion lasted some time. Jane would occasionally glance toward the man she had spent the evening talking to, but not exactly with a look that invited him nearer. She looked rather serious, curious more than attracted, and when he at last made to leave—being in trade, he did not have the luxury of sleeping late on the morrow—she only smiled as he departed; she did not shake his hand.

  Mr. Bennet, being rather less straightforward than many persons on topics of love and marriage, did not go to Jane immediately to discuss her acquaintance with Mr. Dixon. Rather, he came to Elizabeth.

  “I find,” Mr. Bennet said quietly to his second-eldest daughter, “that Mr. Dixon is reasonably successful dealing in textiles. He has not been established long, however.”

  “No?” Elizabeth said, glancing toward Jane to see if she heard it—but Jane was with Mrs. Gardiner.

  “He has a fortune of eight thousand pounds, and he fully expects to double it by the time he is forty,” Mr. Bennet said. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Yes, he has been very candid with me,” he added. “I cannot wonder why—but I wish for Jane’s sake his fortune was twice as great.”