A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  If Lydia’s eyes had been getting wider in disbelief as her father read this account, it was nothing compared to her mother’s reaction.

  “My brother had the right of it!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked in sudden anger, grabbing her daughter by the arm and shaking her fiercely. “You would have been left to be just another ‘bit of fluff’ on the London streets! Foolish, thoughtless child! You would have ruined yourself, as well as Kitty and Mary, for who would ever marry them after the scandal you would have brought about?”

  Her father’s words and her mother’s scolding finally broke Lydia down. She might not be able to fully recognize the truth just yet — her faith in her Wickham was not yet completely destroyed — but she was at last able to recognize how her actions would be interpreted by everyone else. And, for the first time in her life, she was frightened.

  After Mrs. Bennet calmed herself, Mr. Bennet was able to get the rest of the story out of Lydia. It took considerable time and much repeated questioning before his daughter finally admitted that Wickham had never explicitly proposed marriage. Even after admitting that, it took still further inquiry before she reluctantly acknowledged that her belief that he would marry her had been a product of her own imagination. It was not that Lydia was still trying to protect Wickham or even herself; it was that she had not previously been able to see the events in which she had been a participant as anything more than a huge and diverting game. It was not until her father’s probing questions forced her to give answers she did not want to give, that she was unwillingly compelled to at least consider how foolish her actions had been.

  While Mr. Bennet regarded Lydia as quite as silly as her mother, he did not believe that her silliness deserved so harsh a fate as what she had barely evaded. Now, finally, he had been able to make her partially aware of the narrowness of her escape. Then, while she was struggling with the heretofore never experienced emotion of mortification, he then sent her into another paroxysm of tears when he pronounced her punishment.

  “I have at last learned to be cautious, daughter!” he thundered. “Your brief period of being out in society is ended! I would not trust you even to take a walk to Meryton without your mother! Further, and this is final, no officer is ever to enter my house again! In fact, they are not even to pass through the village! Balls will be absolutely prohibited unless you stand up with Kitty or Mary! And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner!”

  Lydia moaned and wept at the imposition, but her mother stifled her incipient protests when she considered what her daughter had almost cost all of them. No, it would be better — much better — for everyone, including Lydia herself, if she stayed at home and learned to keep her mother company. As Lydia continued to cry, terrified of her father and deserted by her mother, Mr. Bennet added, not at all helpfully,

  “Well, well, well, do not make yourself too unhappy, child. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them.”

  After this, Lydia, now wailing inconsolably, was finally allowed to seek the sanctuary of her room. But even though he thought that he had made his point as well as he could, Mr. Bennet did not delude himself that Lydia was truly any wiser as she left the library than when she entered. But he at least felt confident that she would not make that particular mistake again.

  The rest of the evening was spent in even more unpleasant thought, and in the morning, Mr. Bennet reluctantly ordered his horse to be saddled for a ride to Netherfield. He did not at all look forward to what he had to do, and as a result, when he was left waiting in the entry while a servant went in search of Mr. Darcy, he was tempted to bolt for his horse and return to his library. But even as he rejected this tempting thought, he saw Darcy enter the hall, arm in arm with Elizabeth, and obviously enjoying an entertaining conversation.

  When they saw him waiting in the entry, they paused momentarily, and both their faces instantly lost all expression. Mr. Bennet felt an icy dagger in his heart; his brother was completely right, and he was completely wrong. Elizabeth and her husband were obviously united, connected by the strongest of bonds, and they were of one mind in their opinion of him. He had not only offended his dearest daughter in his thoughtless desire to bend her to his will, he had furthermore insulted her husband in the most offensive manner.

  The men exchanged cold and wary greetings, and Mr. Bennet then asked whether he might have a few minutes of Darcy’s time.

  “Of course, sir,” Darcy responded coolly, “but I will ask my wife to join us.” He did not ask Mr. Bennet’s agreement or permission, he simply stated how it was going to be, an unalterable condition to which the older man could only silently accede. So saying, Darcy led the way to Bingley’s library with Elizabeth on his arm and closed the door behind them.

  Mr. Bennet was understandably reluctant to begin, as he did not believe that he had ever faced as humiliating an interview as what he faced now. He had no assurance whether or not he would even be successful at making his apologies, but he had never been quite as wrong before as he had been in this matter. In the dead of night, he had finally resolved what he must do, hard though it was to begin when actually face-to-face with his daughter and her husband. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to start, even though he could not meet their eyes.

  “Mr. Darcy,” he began, “I have come to properly tender my thanks for your efforts to succour my youngest daughter.” Darcy gravely inclined his head, making no comment. “In addition, I have come to apologize and beg your forgiveness for the manner in which I have deluded myself as to your character and thus insulted you in the most unforgivable manner. Both my daughter and my brother have taken me to task quite severely, and I received an express from Colonel Forster yesterday that confirms your account in every detail. I have also confronted Lydia and at length forced the true story from her. All these things have convinced me that I have been wrong in every regard, and I would like to attempt a reconciliation between our houses, at least to the extent that is possible given my many errors.”

  The silence that followed this admission was complete, and Mr. Bennet imagined that the beating of his heart must be audible to everyone in the room, so loud did it sound in his ears. At last, Darcy stirred himself.

  “On my behalf, sir, your apology is accepted and your request for forgiveness can only be granted as is commanded of all Christians. But if this matter is truly to be put to rest, something more is required. You must make your peace with your daughter. And I believe that purpose will be best served if I leave you two together in private. Good day, sir,” he said simply then left the room.

  For several moments, neither Mr. Bennet nor Elizabeth said a word. Mr. Bennet was loath to begin, and Elizabeth was not willing to make it easier for him.

  “Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet finally said, “I am —”

  “How could you?” Elizabeth interrupted abruptly. “How could you say what you did about William? And about me?” Mr. Bennet seemed to shrink from the fire of Elizabeth’s anger and could not at first answer. At length, he sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

  “I will be completely honest, daughter, though it pains me greatly. But I have thought long on this during the night, and I believe that it was my pride that blinded me to the truth.”

  “Well, that, at least, I can certainly understand,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “I almost let my own pride blind me to the merits of the man who made his proposal to me in the most civil manner I ever could have imagined. But I explained all that in my letters, as did William when he visited and my Uncle Gardiner when he wrote. Why did you not listen to us? To any of us?”

  Mr. Bennet drew a deep breath. “Because of my pride, Lizzy. I was so certain I was right that I was blinded to any other testimony. And I was certain, as only a lifetime with a child can make a foolish father certain, that you would accede to my will and beg my forgiveness for going against my wishes.”

  “That I might have done �
�� if only for peace between our families — if you had not maligned my husband as you did. You do not know him, Father, just as I did not know him when he first proposed. But I, at least, did not deny him the chance to change my opinion.”

  “And I did deny him that when I refused to give my blessing to your marriage,” her father admitted morosely. “I cannot understand how I could have been so blind, but I was. I have asked your husband’s forgiveness, Elizabeth, and now I ask yours. I beseech you, do not allow my foolishness to be the point that divides us forever!”

  “If I did, then I would be allowing my own pride to seek vengeance for the hurt I suffered, and that I refuse to do. For that would be an offence against my husband and my family.” She looked at her father. “And I do not want to set an example to my child of the price that pride can cause one to pay.”

  Mr. Bennet could only nod miserably.

  “I did not have a chance to make an announcement to anyone except William before this crisis broke over us, but it is true. You will have a grandchild no later than March. And yes, Father, you do have my forgiveness.”

  And as she crossed the room to embrace her father, Mr. Bennet was unable to stop what he had not done since he was a child. He wept.

  At length, he regained his composure, and Elizabeth guided him toward the door to the library. “Come, let us join the others so that I can make my announcement. Then I must go to Longbourn and tell my mother.”

  “Of course, dear Lizzy,” her father said, as he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and offered his arm.

  When Elizabeth entered the parlour on the arm of her father, she saw the sudden burst of joy on Jane’s face and the look of relief that Mr. Gardiner gave, both happy that father and daughter had managed to effect a healing of their breach. She was glad for their sake, yet saddened by the knowledge that nothing could ever make things the way they had been before. She was learning that not every dispute could be fully resolved, but she also knew that, for the sake of her family and for the life growing within her, the attempt must be made.

  But as she looked into the smiling eyes of her husband as he crossed to her and accepted her arm from her father, she knew that some of the distance that would forever lie between her and her father would have occurred in any case. Her first loyalty now was to William and their family — Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam now, and their children to come. As her husband leaned down to kiss her forehead, she allowed herself to be enfolded in his arms while she heard her father awkwardly open a conversation with her sister and Bingley. With her face against Darcy’s chest and his chin on top of her head, Elizabeth Darcy knew with absolute certainty that within these strong arms was where she belonged.

  Epilogue

  Pemberley, Christmas, 1857

  Fitzwilliam Darcy looked down the long table and smiled at Elizabeth at the other end. Sitting at this table and the several tables surrounding it for Christmas celebration was the Darcy extended family — Darcys, Bingleys, and Fitzwilliams — twelve children, thirty-one grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren.

  It makes an impressive array, Darcy thought, but how many more Christmas seasons can we gather together? He was starting to feel his seventy-three years — that winter seemed worse than he remembered, making his joints ache and throb — and though he still rode daily when the weather permitted, riding was increasingly painful, especially in his knees and lower back. Elizabeth, thankfully, was less affected, and she still took her daily walks through the Pemberley grounds that she loved more than ever. And as it had been ever since that first night forty-five years earlier, they still retired every night to his bed.

  I could not have wished for a better life, he thought, looking down the table at his wife. As always, Elizabeth seemed able to sense the direction of his thoughts, both the satisfaction and the melancholy, and she accepted one and rejected the other, sending him a lovely smile that was meant for him alone. It was the same one she had first given him on that April day when they were married, and the sight of it dispelled his gloom as it always did.

  Georgiana smiled as she caught the exchange, and she leaned over to whisper in her husband’s ear. Darcy could only shake his head as Richard snorted in laughter.

  General Richard Fitzwilliam was resplendent in full scarlet dress uniform for the occasion, but, like many of his fellow officers, he had had little employment in his trade since Bonaparte had been sent into exile over forty years before. It was on that occasion when, after returning from the continent and despite his military training, he had been taken completely by surprise when he visited the Darcy home after the remnants of his regiment returned from Waterloo. There, while he still limped from a wound received in that last battle, he had been most sternly taken to task by his young cousin at the dinner table. Before Darcy and Elizabeth, she told him firmly that it was long past time that he stopped rambling about Europe making a scarlet target of himself, that it was time that he settled down to married life, and that the month of September would do most splendidly for their wedding.

  He had looked at his other cousin in shock, only to hear Darcy respond calmly as he continued eating, “Do not look to me for support in this matter, Richard. We Darcys — as you have said so many times — are rather impulsive.”

  Fitzwilliam never recovered from his initial stunned amazement, easily succumbing to Georgiana’s well planned campaign, and he was to that day uncertain whether he had ever formally proposed. Nevertheless, he was present along with friends and family as Darcy escorted a beaming Georgiana to his side in the Pemberley chapel and his bachelorhood came to an end. Between Georgiana’s fortune, his half-pay, and various gifts from his father and Darcy, the newlyweds had purchased a modest house in town and settled down to bear and rear three children, eleven grandchildren, and one great-grandchild.

  Elizabeth well understood her husband’s thoughts as his eyes swept the large room, taking in all the various sons and daughters and their offspring, sitting either at the large table or at one of the other tables set up for the occasion. She knew the pleasure he took in the presence of all their family in this sacred season, and she also knew the reason for the bittersweet expression that accompanied his look of satisfaction. She knew that their long married life was in its closing stages, but the thought did not rouse her to melancholy, for she knew how unlikely their happiness must have appeared to so many others all those long years ago. And she was cheered that her smile at him blew the winds of sadness from his face, as he could not help returning her own smile. And she had to laugh at Richard’s oft-repeated comment on the Darcy ‘impulsiveness,’ especially since he had fallen victim to a version of it himself.

  Not, she thought to herself with an inner smile, that he ever seems to have regretted the manner in which Georgiana had out-manoeuvred him!

  Elizabeth looked around the room herself, seeing not only those in attendance but also those who were missing, including her parents. After her father’s apology to both Darcy and herself, she had eventually been able to again enjoy his company even though he and Darcy had never been truly comfortable with each other. But at least both her mother and father had lived long enough to see four of their five grandchildren born.

  At least Mama was spared much of the pain of seeing Longbourn possessed by Mr. Collins, she thought, though little good it did him. Lady Catherine, who had never reconciled with her nephew, had released Mr. Collins from her service six months after Mr. Bennet’s death, and that foolish man had tried to assume the role of landed gentleman. He had taken a chill while trying to make a show of inspecting his new estate and had never recovered, passing on within two months of taking possession of Longbourn. The entail had also died with him, and Longbourn had passed to the management of his wife, Charlotte, who accomplished that task even better than her own father before passing it on to her eldest son.

  After her mother’s passing, Elizabeth had brought Mary to Pemberley, and Mary still remained, though she seldom left her room these days. Her
reading remained as avid as ever, though her tastes had changed as the years passed and as her need for thick spectacles and bright daylight increased. At her own request, she sat that night at a corner table with the youngest of the children, for in her later years, she had developed an affinity for the children she had never borne. Elizabeth had to smile as she watched the young children swarm around her sister while Mary told them the Christmas Story, answering all their questions about Bethlehem and the Christmas Star and Wise Men and all the other facets of that happy season.

  Elizabeth looked fondly at her other sister as Jane sat with her beloved Bingley. She did not think the couple had ever had a single serious dispute in their many years of marriage. She and Jane had sat and talked long into the morning hours the previous night, and Elizabeth now mentally smiled in remembrance of that talk, with both herself and Jane sitting on her seldom-used bed. It had been like a return to their time before their marriages, and their talk had ranged the years and the experiences, the loss of loved ones and the birth of children, so many events of happiness and some of sadness. They were both conscious of the aging of their husbands, Bingley even more than Darcy, though he was seven years Darcy’s junior. As they sat in their thick robes and warm, woollen nightgowns against the chill that even the bright fire could not wholly dispel, Elizabeth and Jane had laughed in remembrance as they compared the sensible garments they now wore to the daring and revealing nightgowns they had first worn for the delight of their new husbands — nightgowns recommended and urged on them by their eminently sensible Aunt Gardiner.

  Dear Aunt Gardiner, Elizabeth thought with fond recollection. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had spent much time with Darcy and herself, either in town or at Pemberley, and Darcy had loved the couple dearly. She remembered his tears of grief as they laid Mr. Gardiner to rest at Pemberley, for they had brought her aunt and uncle to live with them as Mr. Gardiner’s health failed. Aunt Gardiner, who was ten years younger than her husband, had lived on with them, content but no longer complete without her husband, and her passing two years ago had not brought the tears that her husband’s passing had occasioned. It was clear to both Elizabeth and her husband that Mrs. Gardiner had not minded her approaching end and was more than ready to be re-united with her husband. She was buried beside him behind the Pemberley chapel, and Elizabeth often came upon Darcy as he stood silently before the white headstones that were not far from those of his own parents.