A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  “Quite true.” Darcy smiled.

  “In any case, I will not be completely alone. Richard sent a note saying he would be stopping by this morning.”

  “Excellent,” Darcy said, excusing himself to change into riding clothes.

  His horse was ready for him when he walked out to the small stable behind his townhouse, and he took a deep breath of the refreshing air as he emerged from his gate and turned north. It was a cool, spring day, and Darcy was glad for his greatcoat as he urged his mount into a ground-eating trot. Almost without requiring thought, he easily fell into a familiar rhythm, rising and falling with the horse’s stride to soften the harsh gait. His mind was busy with other problems, such as planning where and when he and Elizabeth might be wed. If the choice were solely his, with no other issues to be considered, he would prefer the chapel at Pemberley, for it was at Pemberley that he was most truly at home. He hoped that Elizabeth would be of like mind, but he knew that they still faced a number of difficulties associated with their irregular and decidedly conflicted courtship. Those problems had first to be resolved before she could feel truly comfortable at either Pemberley or here in town. But he cheered himself, thinking: It could have been so much worse! He grinned at what had become almost a refrain in his mind of late.

  Darcy did not push the pace, but it was still short of noon when he arrived at Longbourn, where a lad ran out from the stable to take the reins when he dismounted.

  “Let him walk for at least a quarter-hour before stabling him,” he instructed the young boy, who bobbed his head in acknowledgement before leading the horse away. He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to the housekeeper who answered the door. “Mr. Bennet, please,” he said, and the housekeeper bobbed in courtesy. He removed his gloves, hat, and greatcoat, giving them to a younger maid who took them away.

  A head popped out beyond the door immediately to his right, to be quickly joined by another, both obviously belonging to the younger Bennet sisters. Lydia was the first one’s name, he suddenly remembered, and the other one was called Kitty. The two girls began to giggle and then retreated back into the room. He shook his head at their unseemly behaviour, marvelling that Elizabeth and Jane had successfully avoided growing up into similarly silly girls.

  The housekeeper was back in less than a minute. “Mr. Bennet will see you in the library,” she said, showing him into Mr. Bennet’s private room. Books overflowed every available place — shelves, tables, even chairs. The gentleman himself was just lowering the volume he was holding and rose to greet him.

  “Mr. Darcy,” he said politely, inclining his head.

  “Mr. Bennet.” Darcy gave the older man a bow befitting his state as master of the house, Darcy’s elder, and Elizabeth’s father.

  Motioning Darcy to a chair, Mr. Bennet resumed his seat and regarded the young man with an unreadable expression. “I have been expecting to see you, Mr. Darcy, but I am surprised that you came to me, rather than the other way around,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. “But I am forgetting my manners. How may I be of service?”

  Darcy was confused by the remark, but he settled himself and began, “The purpose of my mission today is simple. I have been fortunate enough to receive the agreement of your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, to my proposal of marriage, and I have come to request your consent and blessing.”

  “I see,” Mr. Bennet said softly, and Darcy was surprised that his reply was so mild and unconcerned. As the man continued to look at him, he grew uncomfortable. He did not know Elizabeth’s father at all, but this behaviour was not at all what he had expected.

  At length, Mr. Bennet bestirred himself to continue. “Your request comes as rather a surprise, Mr. Darcy. I just received a request for the hand of my eldest daughter, Jane, earlier in the week from your friend Mr. Bingley, but I confess that I had not been aware of any regard on your part that might have warned me of your intentions toward my Lizzy. In fact, I was not aware that you have had any contact with my daughter since your departure from Netherfield last autumn.”

  “I renewed my acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth when she was visiting her friend Mrs. Collins. I was visiting my aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh at her estate in Kent at the same time. I believe that you know that Mr. Collins is Lady Catherine’s parson?” At Mr. Bennet’s nod, he continued, “At the end of my visit, I asked if I might call on her when she returned to London, and she agreed. I was introduced to her uncle, Mr. Gardiner, when I called with Bingley to congratulate Miss Bennet on her engagement, and the day before Miss Elizabeth returned, I informed him of my wishes. He gave his permission, pending his correspondence with you.”

  “Which I have not yet received, it being only Sunday.”

  Darcy was still unable to decipher Mr. Bennet’s manner as he continued, “I was invited to dine with the family, and Mr. Gardiner was kind enough to permit me some moments of privacy with your daughter. I then made her an offer of marriage which she accepted, and this is what occasioned my visit this morning.”

  Mr. Bennet was silent for a minute or so before he finally sighed. He picked up a letter from his desk. “I was not completely forthright with you, Mr. Darcy. This is not my first information of your interest in my daughter,” he said in a decidedly unfriendly tone. “I have received a letter from my cousin, Mr. Collins. Normally, much as I abominate writing, I cannot help but value the correspondence of Mr. Collins, for the absurdities he usually expresses are so often diverting. On this occasion, sir, I was not diverted. In this letter he warns me of the most dire threats to the virtue and reputation of my daughter Elizabeth.”

  Darcy could hardly believe that foolish man had taken it upon himself to inform Mr. Bennet of his absurd imaginings. It was certain that Lady Catherine could not have been aware of his writing, since the news it contained would effectively force a marriage between Elizabeth and himself.

  “And I am to believe that you took what your cousin related seriously?”

  “How could I not, sir, when he writes that the whole estate is in an uproar due to you first attempting to force your attentions on her, and then later making her your mistress!” responded Mr. Bennet angrily.

  “I find it difficult to believe that you would credit anything Mr. Collins claims,” responded Darcy with some heat, “knowing, as you must, how foolish that man is. In addition, I find it equally incomprehensible that you would think your daughter would actually be a party to such a scheme. But, in any event, even if everything that Mr. Collins related were true, it would not signify, since the repair of such transgressions is to force either marriage or disgrace on the parties involved, and I am here seeking your consent to our marriage. I will further inform you, sir, that, neither Miss Bennet nor I have acted improperly. I love her too dearly to ever do anything so dishonourable. I feel incredibly fortunate and honoured to have received her acceptance of my hand.”

  “What concerns me is the manner in which this engagement occurred!” said Mr. Bennet grimly, “For this also was brought to my attention,” and he picked up a newspaper that Darcy easily recognized as the Chronicle.

  “Both Elizabeth and I are already aware of that vile gossip,” Darcy retorted, “but unlike you, we know how such misinformation came to be distributed and published.”

  “Then pray share such information with me, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet sarcastically. “I cannot wait to be informed by what manner my Lizzy was embroiled in such a sordid affair.”

  “Due to gossip among the inept staff at the Hunsford Parsonage,” responded Darcy icily, “which was taken up and bandied about by the even more ill-disciplined servants of my aunt’s household. Evidently, the information was spread to London by those parties and thence into the scandal sheets. But I repeat, nothing untoward occurred between Elizabeth and myself, sir. She has behaved at all times with the utmost propriety — as have I.”

  “But now she has been involved in this disgusting business, regardless, has she not? I must insist o
n a full account of the situation in which you have placed my daughter, sir,” he demanded coldly.

  Darcy then proceeded to provide a summary of the events that had led to that point, from his first attraction to Elizabeth to meeting her again at Hunsford, emphasizing that nothing improper had occurred beyond spending several hours in private conversation. He briefly reviewed the situation of Mr. Wickham, but he did not speak of the attempted elopement with his sister, because the man’s attitude disposed him against sharing such private matters. For one thing, it was ironic in the extreme that Mr. Bennet was now attempting to assume the role as a protective father, when he had previously abdicated his role as the head of his family and allowed all the girls to grow up essentially unrestrained, leading to the two younger girls’ unseemly behaviour just exhibited in the hall.

  Mr. Bennet listened to Darcy’s account without saying anything, his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his clasped fingers. When he finished, Mr. Bennet finally stirred

  “It is an interesting tale you have woven for me, but I have yet to hear a reason why I should allow my favourite daughter to marry you.”

  Darcy was appalled at this response. “Do you want to see her ruined?” he blurted out.

  Mr. Bennet made no reply, so Darcy continued. “You must understand how dearly I love your daughter, sir. I admire her intelligence, her kindness, her understanding, her strength and courage. Even before we knew of this gossip, I had secured her agreement for a courtship, and I had every hope of improving her opinion of me. And she informed me last night that the gossip did not signify to her, since it only changed the timing of her answer and not the outcome.”

  “Is it the custom in the society that you keep, to court a young lady without her father’s permission?” said Mr. Bennet sarcastically.

  Darcy flushed at the biting tone of the older man’s voice but maintained control of his temper. “As I mentioned, I spoke to her uncle as her guardian and planned to speak with you when she returned home. But when the despicable gossip was actually printed, our hands were forced and events were accelerated, leading to her acceptance last evening.”

  “Ah. The gossip. Most convenient for your plans, was it not?”

  “I do not comprehend your meaning, sir!” said Darcy heatedly.

  “It is easy enough to understand, sir. You propose to my daughter, she refuses you, and then the conveniently ill-behaved servants manage to spread gossip about the countryside until it shows up in the paper, forcing my Lizzy to now consent to your proposals. Would she ever have married you otherwise, Mr. Darcy? One wonders whether your aunt’s staff had some encouragement for their behaviour.”

  Darcy was appalled. In fact, he was infuriated. He would be within his rights to call the man out if he said as much in the company of others, and it took several moments before he could trust himself to speak.

  “Sir, I told you of what your daughter said — that the gossip only changed the timing of her acceptance of my proposal, not the acceptance itself. Yes, she would have agreed to marry me to avoid the utter ruin of herself and her family, but she has stated that she is actually unconcerned with the gossip and is perfectly happy with our arrangement. By what stretch of the imagination do you disbelieve what I have told you when you have only to ask your daughter?”

  Mr. Bennet once again astounded Darcy by commenting sadly, “I can only conclude that Lizzy must have been greatly influenced by your fortune and the attendant benefits associated with marrying such a well-found man.”

  “That is completely without sense, sir!” Darcy snapped. “Evidently, for all your professed regard for your daughter’s nature, you have no true estimation of her character at all. Did you not hear me say that she refused me most decidedly? If she was influenced by my fortune, that would have been the moment to demonstrate it. How could she know that I would be so persistent? Many would not, and you know this if you would but turn your mind to it! She not only challenged me on behalf of her sister, she supported Wickham against me. No, sir, it will not do. She had ample opportunity to demonstrate her greed and did not do so. It was only after I convinced her that she had been misled that she even agreed to allow me to call on her in London.”

  Elizabeth’s father was taken aback by the vehemence of Darcy’s response, but he still could not abide the man and looked at him with dislike. “Whether you or Mr. Wickham have the right of it is not as clear to me as you say it is to my daughter. Elizabeth’s opinion of you, as well as my own, was influenced by that man’s account of his misfortunes at your hand. You say that she has changed her mind about Wickham because of your proofs, but I have to question whether her judgment may have been equally affected by the transference of Mr. Wickham’s attentions to Miss King. No, I cannot so easily give way to your version of the facts, sir.”

  By this time, Darcy was fast losing what respect he had previously possessed for the man, and was completely set against sharing any further family information with Mr. Bennet in an attempt to correct his opinion. He was also at the ragged edge of his temper, and he leaned forward on the desk, his fists resting on the surface.

  “By what right, sir, do you dare question my character in this matter?” he said, enunciating each word carefully. “What report of my dishonesty has been publicly acknowledged? What tradesmen have I defrauded? On my word, sir, you might bestir yourself from this room and solicit the opinion of the merchants in Meryton regarding Mr. Wickham! You will find, I am sure, many unpaid accounts. I know this well, sir; you may rely on it. It has been ever thus, and I have several times assumed his debts in Derbyshire and at Cambridge. So I must be insistent, sir. I demand to know what personal knowledge you have to so defame me.”

  Mr. Bennet seemed reluctant to answer, but eventually he said, “Perhaps I was too hasty. I cannot speak of any personal knowledge.”

  “Then I might further point out that Mr. Bingley, whom you have given your consent and blessing to marry your eldest daughter, has several times testified to my character and honesty, yet you and others seem inclined to believe the slanders spread by Wickham simply because he is fair spoken although there are no such favourable witnesses for that man. I might also point out that your brother Gardiner seems favourably disposed toward me since he not only dined with me but twice invited me to dine with his family. In addition, he gave his conditional approval to call on his niece, an event unlikely to have occurred if he had reason to question my character.”

  Darcy stood up straight. “I will speak plainly, sir. I can see that any further efforts to convince you would be fruitless, so I will simply ask, do I have your consent to marry your daughter, Elizabeth? Or would you prefer to see her ruined through no fault of her own due to your dislike of me?”

  Mr. Bennet glared at Darcy, but he knew that he was well and truly without recourse. “Well, well, of course you must marry, after everything that has occurred. I will not withhold my consent, but I will not give my blessing, sir.”

  “Does this mean you do not desire to see your daughter married from Longbourn?”

  “I will not ask the reverend of Longbourn Chapel to perform a ceremony that I cannot bless.”

  Darcy nodded coldly. “I will take the necessary steps then. Will any of your family be in attendance at our wedding, sir?”

  “I will not forbid my wife and daughters to attend, but I will on no account be present myself.”

  “If you would be so kind as to put your sentiments in writing, I will deliver them to Elizabeth.”

  Mr. Bennet was offended by hearing this man’s use of his daughter’s Christian name, but he could hardly forbid it at that point. He only nodded. Darcy bowed stiffly and excused himself.

  As Darcy stood waiting in the hall, Lydia and Kitty again peeked around the edge of the doorway and giggled when out of sight. Soon he heard Mrs. Bennet approach to determine what was distracting her daughters. She stood, astonished, to find him in the hall. Darcy greeted her politely, and found that his view of her had changed. After
contending with the wilful self-deception of her husband, he could feel considerably more sympathy toward a woman who was merely silly.

  “I did not know you were come to call, Mr. Darcy. Are you here with your friend, Mr. Bingley?”

  “No, madam. I came here to speak with your husband.”

  Lack of sensibility or not, Mrs. Bennet’s instincts were more than sufficient to detect the sudden advantage of such a visit.

  “Would you care to step into the parlour and sit with us for the moment?”

  “Thank you, but no, madam. I am but waiting on a letter that Mr. Bennet is preparing to be delivered to Elizabeth. When he is finished, I must be on the road immediately.”

  Mrs. Bennet was equally up to the task of recognizing the possible meaning of Darcy’s unconscious use of Elizabeth’s name. And he had been talking with her husband . . .

  Her conjectures were interrupted when Hill approached the door to the library. She was inside the room only momentarily before returning with two letters, which she gave to Darcy. He looked at them; Mr. Bennet had prepared one for his daughter and one for his brother Gardiner. Nodding and thanking the housemaid, he then bid Mrs. Bennet a polite farewell, leaving that bemused woman in contemplation of the possible advantage to her family of this visit. As he walked through the door, he heard her piercing voice immediately demanding answers to her many questions from her husband.

  Darcy went straight to the stable, meeting the lad leading his horse partway. Thanking the boy, he quickly mounted, eager to be gone. As soon as he could manage, he urged the horse into a gallop, still seething in anger and desperate to be home — and to see Elizabeth as soon as might be arranged.

  He groaned as he thought of how saddened she would be by her dear father’s response. That thought acted to quell his anger, and he gradually eased his horse back to an easy walk. He spent the remainder of the journey reviewing what he still wanted to accomplish that day.