A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  “Oh, I care nothing for what Papa says,” Lydia said carelessly. “If he had brought us all to Brighton, I might listen to him. But all he ever does is talk, talk, talk, and then he disappears into his library.”

  “Your father has raised you and protected you and provided for you for your whole life! You owe him a debt of gratitude for what he has done, and you are under the obligation to behave as a proper daughter!” Mr. Gardiner said sternly. Though he tried to keep his anger under control, he was unable to prevent his voice from growing louder and angrier as he continued, “You do not, for example, simply accept the casual assurances of a penniless opportunist and plan to run away without even a word to your father! Had you even given a thought to how that man was going to support you? Or how your elopement would adversely affect your sisters? Now be silent, Lydia, for your rescuers need their rest!”

  “I will not be silent!” retorted Lydia angrily. “And I hardly needed to be rescued! It is your fault!” she cried, pointing to Darcy, who sat beside Elizabeth, arms folded, looking on expressionlessly at the disgraceful exhibition. “You will not leave him alone! You stole his inheritance and hounded him out of town, and now you get your cronies to lock up an innocent man! Will you never cease your vendetta, Mr. Darcy? Will you never stop persecuting a man who should be like a brother to you?”

  “Lydia, stop it!” Elizabeth said sternly. “Mr. Darcy just saved you from being ruined by that . . . that scoundrel! You owe him a debt of gratitude that you cannot comprehend!”

  “Him? Gratitude? That is a joke!” Lydia spat. “He kept me from marrying the man I love! And who loves me! Your husband did to me just what he has done to Wickham when he denied him his legacy. I could never feel gratitude to such a despicable blackguard!”

  “Mr. Wickham was never going to marry you, Lydia,” said Elizabeth coldly. “He never loved you; he just wanted an ignorant, innocent young girl to keep him warm at night. There never would have been a marriage, and one morning you would have awakened to find him gone!”

  “What do you know of it, Lizzy?” cried Lydia. “You are jealous because he chose me instead of you! And love? What do you know of love? I wanted to marry the man I love while you married a cold and revolting man simply for his money!”

  Elizabeth turned white with outrage and suppressed fury, though Lydia could not see it in the dark coach. But Darcy felt the rigidity of her body and leaned over to whisper words of consolation in her ear.

  “Lydia, for the last time, be quiet!” commanded Mr. Gardiner at the very limit of his control

  “You cannot make me stop telling the truth!” she hissed. “And it is true that Lizzy married only for money and then only after Mr. Darcy ruined her! Yes! It is true, he ruined you, Lizzy, and you know it! And then you made him marry you somehow, but Papa would not bless the marriage, no matter what Mama said to him! He knows your husband is a rake and a scoundrel, and you are surely not the first girl that he has —”

  The sound of flesh striking flesh was like a pistol shot in the coach as Elizabeth leaned forward and slapped Lydia as hard as she possibly could. The sting of the blow ran up Elizabeth’s arm, and Lydia’s head was turned halfway around by the impact. She was shocked into sudden momentary silence before she burst into tears and wild cries of pain and mortification.

  “Lydia, be quiet immediately!” Elizabeth hissed in fury, but Lydia’s wails only increased.

  The repetition of the sharp ‘smack’ of an open palm hitting her cheek was repeated, and this second slap finally shocked Lydia into a partial compliance with her sister’s command, whether from astonished disbelief or the sudden fear of being struck again could not be determined.

  “If you ever again dare to insult my husband, Lydia Bennet, I will not hesitate to strike you again!” Elizabeth told her sister icily. “You will treat him with the utmost politeness and respect at all times, or you will have to deal with me! And do not let me hear even a rumour of your speaking ill of him to others. You may not respect anything else in this world, but you should fear me, for I will not tolerate such behaviour from you ever again!”

  Lydia could only listen without speaking, trying to choke back her sobs, and she turned to her uncle for solace. Mr. Gardiner would have none of it, however.

  “Elizabeth only did what I was on the edge of doing,” he said sternly. “My brother should have done it years ago rather than allowing you to grow up to be such a wild and foolish child without any sense of restraint or propriety.”

  It soon was quiet in the coach with only the sound of Lydia’s quiet sobs and involuntary hiccupping as she tried to stifle them, and slowly Mr. Gardiner and Darcy relaxed. Darcy put his arm around Elizabeth, pulling her to him, and only then did he become aware that she was quietly crying, her bonnet pulled over her face and her handkerchief pressed against her mouth to muffle the sound.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered to her, “do not be distressed over having to slap your sister. It had to be done.”

  He bent down as she lifted her head, and she whispered back, between sobs, “I am not . . . crying . . . because of . . . Lydia. It is because of . . . the casual cruelty . . . that my father would show to speak of you in such a manner . . . before his family . . . and possibly others.”

  Darcy had no reply to this, and he could only hold her close until her crying eased and she drifted into exhausted slumber.

  * * * * *

  It was an hour past dawn when the coach rattled to a stop before the front door of Longbourn. Mr. Gardiner exited the coach first and immediately — and energetically — knocked at the door, but it was more than a minute before the door was opened by Hill, who looked at Mr. Gardiner worriedly.

  “I must see my brother Bennet immediately,” he said tersely.

  The housekeeper peered past him to see Elizabeth stepping down from the coach and helping her sister out. Clearly, something was amiss involving Miss Lydia.

  “I will inform the master at once,” she told Mr. Gardiner, curtseying and opening the door to allow him entrance.

  Mr. Gardiner stepped into the entry, soon joined by Elizabeth and Lydia, while Darcy stopped at the doorway. Lydia stayed as far away from Elizabeth as possible, but her first impulse to flee up the stairs was halted by her sister’s imperious gaze.

  It was about ten minutes before Mr. Bennet descended the stairs, showing evidence of having dressed in a considerable hurry.

  “Good morning, brother,” Mr. Gardiner greeted him, though he was having trouble remaining civil. “It appears that you did not take our express seriously enough to do anything about it, but we have managed to prevent what you would not. Here is your child, who we managed to keep from going off with that villain Wickham, but only by the action of your daughter’s husband.”

  By this time, Mrs. Bennet had also descended the stairs, but she could not understand the meaning of what her brother had said, and she cried out as she saw Lydia looking so ragged and forlorn.

  “Lydia! But what has happened to you? My poor girl! Tell me who did this to you!”

  “Lydia was caught in the act of what she thought was an elopement with Mr. Wickham,” Mr. Gardiner told her. “But it was not an elopement, madam, not at all. Only the swift work of Mr. Darcy and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam prevented Wickham from carrying Lydia off to London — and to her ruin!”

  “I sent an express to Colonel Forster,” Mr. Bennet was finally able to offer. “I have not yet received a reply.”

  “Had you left immediately, Brother, you might — might! — have been in time to save your daughter,” said Mr. Gardiner coldly, rapidly running out of sympathy for his sister’s husband. “Sending an express was a useless and indolent act; Wickham and Lydia would already be in London by now. But we were able to catch them just in time.”

  “But Wickham said he was going to marry me!” wailed Lydia, in the arms of her mother.

  “Be quiet, girl!” retorted her uncle sternly. “Any beliefs you had in that regard were foolish and un
informed. The man had no money, no trade, and had he successfully managed to desert his regiment and been caught, he would have been lucky to escape the noose. You would have wound up walking the streets of London, selling yourself for the price of a meal like many other foolish girls before you!”

  Mrs. Bennet wailed at the crudity expressed by her brother, but this sordid scenario finally impressed her with the seriousness of what Lydia had done, and she took her youngest daughter into another room, scolding her fiercely as she went. Mrs. Bennet might complain about the exertions she was forced into by the demands of society, but the prospect of losing her position in that society was suddenly much more important than her inclination to spoil her child.

  “Wickham is now under guard, charged with attempted desertion and other offences, and he is bound for debtor’s prison after the militia is through with him, for he had creditors aplenty in Brighton,” continued Mr. Gardiner. “I am sure it is the same in Meryton or even worse since the regiment was quartered here longer.”

  This last made Mr. Bennet start, and he looked up to meet Darcy’s cold gaze, remembering what he had been told that day in the library.

  “I . . . thank you, Brother,” he managed in a halting voice. “And . . . and my thanks to you too, Mr. Darcy, for saving my daughter.” Both men nodded in return then turned to leave, planning to stop at Netherfield to seek the hospitality of the Bingleys before they returned to Pemberley in a considerably more leisurely fashion than they had left.

  “Uncle, William, would you wait for me in the coach, please?” Elizabeth asked. “I would like to have a word with my father.”

  Darcy nodded and left the doorway, and Elizabeth followed her father into the library. Unseen by her, Mr. Gardiner lingered in the hallway while she closed the door.

  Mr. Bennet had not even seated himself before Elizabeth burst out furiously, “I would like to know, sir, by what right you openly denigrate my husband before your family?”

  Her voice was as cold as ice, and she was remorseless as she continued. “I would like to know just what makes you believe that you can call him a rake and a scoundrel, such that Lydia would throw those terms back in his teeth after he had just come to her rescue? For your information, Father, this man whom you denigrate and mock has travelled over two hundred miles in less than two days in order to save your daughter from her own foolishness — foolishness that never should have been given expression had you performed your duty as a father! You knew that she was too young and foolish to be sent into such temptation, yet you allowed her to go anyway! Have you an explanation, sir, for any of this reprehensible and unforgivable behaviour?”

  Mr. Bennet had frozen halfway into his chair, shocked at being spoken to in such a manner by his daughter. His mouth was open as he gazed at her in amazement.

  “Well, sir?”

  “I did not . . . that is, I . . .” Mr. Bennet struggled to begin, but Elizabeth interrupted him.

  “I could not at first understand the manner in which my sister dared to insult the man who was the means of her salvation, but then she informed me that she only quoted her father. I could not believe it, but then she repeated it, and I could no longer evade the truth. In the end, I had to slap her full across the face, not once but twice, before she would desist!”

  Mr. Bennet stared at his favourite daughter in complete shock. Every word she said hit home in his conscience like a hammer-blow of fire and sparks, and still he could say nothing. He was too ashamed to admit his fault and too proud to display his shame, so he said nothing as she continued, her cheeks blazing red in agitation and anger.

  “But slapping Lydia will do no good; both you and I know it, Father. If you could have troubled yourself earlier in her life to perform the same discipline on her, she might not have grown up to be such a foolish and wild child. She is silly, undisciplined, totally bereft of any sense of propriety, and is so completely without fear of consequences that she sees no reason to restrain her most irresponsible impulses.

  “In addition to being insulted on behalf of my husband, who is the very best man I have ever known, I am also insulted for myself! That your opinion of me is such that you would even for a moment consider that I could marry such a man as you have described is beyond belief, whether threatened by scandal or not.” She paused to take a few quick breaths. She was feeling decidedly dizzy, but she was determined to finish what she had to say.

  “After the manner in which you have treated Mr. Darcy, I have my doubts whether you would ever be welcome in his home. But make no mistake, Father — if you ever again fail in politeness to my husband, you will never be welcome in mine! Nor, in that event, will I ever set foot again in yours! I wish you good day, sir!”

  Mr. Bennet was stung and angered by this treatment from his favourite daughter. He was shocked as it finally hit home just how badly relations between them had deteriorated, for he had never believed their estrangement would be permanent. He had been certain that Lizzy would sooner or later desist in trying to change his mind and would write to ask his forgiveness, often thinking on how he would play the part of offended but forgiving father, willing to welcome his erring daughter back into his good graces and even to tolerate the rogue that he had been forced to allow her to marry.

  But he now knew how wrong he had been on that point, even if he was not yet able to consider whether the rest of what Lizzy had said could possibly be true. When she spun on her heel and left the room, he realized that he might never see her again. The pain in his heart at the thought of being forever estranged from his darling daughter was like a spear of ice. He had assumed that Elizabeth would bend to his will and refuse to marry without his blessing. He had assumed that she would not choose another man over her own father, and he had been angered by her defiance when she did just that. Now he understood his monumental error as he realized that Elizabeth had stormed out of his library and out of his house without his having said one single word to her.

  Mr. Gardiner had overheard much of what Elizabeth said and he was still in the hall as she ran past, white-faced with anger and with tears running down her cheeks.

  He opened the library door to see the older man look up in sudden hope and then sink back in despair as he saw that it was his brother who had entered and not his daughter.

  “Brother,” he said softly, “I must tell you that you have been as wrong in this matter of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy as a man could possibly be. Your opinion of him is completely a delusion of your anger, and your opinion of Elizabeth scarcely less. After the manner in which you have affronted them in every way, I do not know whether a reconciliation is even possible. You, sir, have counted on the fierce loyalty that Elizabeth has for her family. What you have not calculated is that Mr. Darcy is now her family, and the loyalty that you relied on is now being exerted on his behalf.

  “And there is another thing to consider, Brother,” said Mr. Gardiner softly. “I would not spend an excessive amount of time contemplating what you might do, because Madeline has told me that she believes Elizabeth is with child. If you desire to see your grandchild before he is full grown, I would suggest consulting what the gospel says on the matter of humility and the asking of forgiveness. Your daughter and her husband have nothing for which to ask forgiveness while you have almost everything. Now, we are all excessively tired, so I will wish you a good day.”

  The sound of the library door closing rang in Mr. Bennet’s ears like the final blow of a gigantic hammer that had earlier struck such fire and sparks.

  Chapter 33

  Sunday, August 2, 1812

  Mr. Bennet, already discomfited by the morning’s developments, was even further disturbed when an express arrived in the afternoon, in which Colonel Forster confirmed in great detail the story he had earlier heard. Confronted with this further evidence of his mistaken judgment of Wickham, Mr. Bennet summoned Lydia to the library.

  When Lydia was seated before his desk along with her mother, Mr. Bennet turned a cold eye on her. “It i
s past time that we had a talk, child. I have allowed you to be out in society and to go and do as you willed because of your mother’s pleas that your liveliness not be stifled, but look what has come of it!”

  “What do you mean, Papa?” said Lydia sulkily. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing wrong? What do you call agreeing to an elopement with Mr. Wickham? Somehow, you seem to have formed the idea that a sixteen-year-old girl can marry without her father’s permission! Even Lizzy would not do that, though I disapproved of her choice of husband.”

  Lydia was shrill as she pounced on this last statement by her father.

  “Well, at least my Wickham is not a rogue like Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed. “You have said that yourself, Papa, many times!”

  “And I am now beginning to believe that I may have been completely mistaken about both men,” said Mr. Bennet slowly and contritely. “For example, I have just received this rather long express from Colonel Forster. He informs me that he has been investigating Wickham since his arrest. He will not talk, but his drinking companions are singing like canaries. Captain Denny, for example, says that Wickham stated several times that he had not the slightest intention of marrying you — ever. But Wickham was not as forthright with Denny as he was with Lieutenant Jerremy from another regiment. He did not tell Denny that he was planning to desert and never return, for example. This Jerremy says that Wickham confided in him just the previous day that he must disappear, for some of the Brighton merchants were becoming quite pushy about the money they were owed. He also said that the guest of the colonel’s wife would do quite well to warm his bed during the cold nights. When Jerremy asked Wickham how he could justify deceiving this ‘bed-warmer,’ Wickham only laughed and said that he had never committed himself to anything, and in any event, since it was all her own choice, that she should be able to make do quite well in London after he moved on.”