Together in Perfect Felicity

by P. O. Dixon

  Chapter 25

  such a notion

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet, have you heard the news?” said his lady to him that day.

  “If you are referring to the news that young Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield, then yes, I have heard the news, and let me just say before you ask: no, I will not call on that young man again. He knows where we live, and unless I am mistaken, he knows he is indebted to come and have a family dinner with us. Is that not correct?”

  “Indeed, it is, and I am sure he will come this time.”

  “Oh? How can you be so sure?”

  “You know very well Mr. Bingley called on our Jane when she was in London. I posit that he simply wanted more time before offering his hand in marriage and now he has returned to Netherfield, prepared to do what he ought to have done months ago.” She clasped her hands and rested them against her bosom. “Oh, what a happy day this is. What a happy day indeed!”

  Elizabeth then walked into the room. “Dare I ask what the reason for such jubilation is?”

  “Owe it to the imminent return of the amiable Mr. Bingley,” replied Mr. Bennet before his lady could fashion a response to Elizabeth’s question. “Your mother is of the opinion that the sole reason for the gentleman’s return is to offer his hand in marriage to your sister Jane.”

  “What other possible reason is there?” Mrs. Bennet asked.

  “There is the small matter of his having let Netherfield Park,” Elizabeth replied, throwing a teasing glance at her father. “Is the gentleman not allowed to return to his own home with impunity?”

  “Impunity! What utter nonsense, Lizzy. How can you talk so? You know very well how much Mr. Bingley loves our dear Jane.”

  “Who is to say what Mr. Bingley thinks or how he feels?” Mr. Bennet opined. “I understand that both Jane and Lizzy had the pleasure of receiving the gentleman when they were in town. I suspect that the young man is not the most constant lover. Perhaps all the affections you suppose ought to be reserved for Jane have since been transferred to my Lizzy.”

  As much as Elizabeth was wont to admire her father’s tendency to make sport of others, even her own mother and sisters at times, she was not so pleased by this particular conjecture. Of course, she could not be too aggrieved by her father’s jest. He could have no way of knowing that Phoebe blamed Elizabeth for Mr. Darcy’s supposed defection.

  “How absurd! But then again, what more am I to expect? You are always giving Lizzy the preference.”

  “So long as you gain a son-in-law, what does it matter which of our two eldest daughters he marries?”

  “Oh! Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves. Besides, Mr. Bingley was not alone when he called on Jane in Cheapside. His friend Mr. Darcy was with him—although, for the life of me, I cannot understand why or even how that came to be.”

  She huffed. “Imagine that! The proud Mr. Darcy at such a place as Cheapside. No doubt, having gone there, he hardly considered a month’s ablutions enough to cleanse him from its impurities. And to think, he did so not just once, but twice. You might just as well have accused him of being in love with Lizzy.”

  Hearing her mother speak so derisively about a man whose character she scarcely understood pained Elizabeth, but she kept her silence.

  Mr. Bennet, however, did not. Folding his paper and standing in preparation to quit the room, he laughed out loud. “Now, such a notion as that would indeed be absurd.”

  The next day or so, Elizabeth silently chastised herself. She knew she should not have been listening to what was meant to be a private conversation between her father and her uncle Mr. Phillips, especially after her stern rebuke to her cousin Phoebe mere days before for eavesdropping, but the mentioning of Mr. Darcy’s name had practically stopped her in her tracks.

  Standing just outside the partly opened door of her father’s study, Elizabeth overheard the following:

  “Surely if Mr. Bingley’s friend Mr. Darcy accompanies him to Netherfield, I ought to call on the gentleman to thank him properly for his part in saving my Phoebe from that detestable Mr. Wickham. What a scoundrel he turned out to be, did he not?”

  Elizabeth had nearly gasped aloud. She could not help but draw a little closer and listen to more of what her father and her uncle had to say. This improved vantage point also offered a glimpse inside the room, and she espied the two gentlemen standing by the fireplace.

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “I must confess Mr. Wickham did a fine job of making love to all of us. I am surely thankful that young Lydia fell ill soon after I was cajoled into allowing her to travel with the head of the militia, Colonel Forster, and his young bride to Brighton, else I might have found myself in dire need of Mr. Darcy’s intervention.”

  “Then you agree that I ought to thank him in person.”

  His brow arched, Mr. Bennet replied, “I do not know that I am saying that at all. You did say that when he went to your brother in Brighton, offering to be of service to him in preventing Phoebe from making what would have been a grave mistake, Mr. Darcy did so under the condition of anonymity. I dare say he would not wish for such an acknowledgment. One never knows why these proud men behave as they do. Perhaps such magnanimity is simply the fashion.”

  Elizabeth had heard enough. She could hardly believe a word she had heard.

  Why would Mr. Darcy travel all the way to Brighton to save my cousin from Mr. Wickham? He and Phoebe are not strangers to each other to be sure, but their connection is hardly one of any consequence. Surely he does not have a habit of being of service to every young woman in danger from Mr. Wickham.

  A part of her could not help but suppose that he had done it all for her, but did she dare presume so much?

  She had to know. And she would know even if it meant asking him herself. But when?

  Her uncle’s speculation that Mr. Darcy might accompany Mr. Bingley to Hertfordshire soon became Elizabeth’s favorite wish that he indeed would. Not that she supposed any explicitly proffered gratitude on her part might lead to a repetition of his professions of love.

  “Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you or humbling myself by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten.”

  Those words were etched in her memory. Nonetheless, any ensuing improvement of his good opinion was something that she desired very much.

  Chapter 26

  an equal measure of discretion

  “I have come to learn the most dreadful things about Mr. Wickham. It seems his misdeeds caught up with him in Brighton, and he has abandoned the militia. His whereabouts are completely unknown. Who knew he was such a vile creature who had amassed a considerable amount of debt, mostly gambling, mind you, in his wake?

  “Thank heavens, you were persuaded to come to your senses before you actually married the man,” said Mrs. Phillips to her daughter upon finding her sitting alone in the parlor, staring mindlessly out the window. “I should hate to imagine what our friends and neighbors would now think of us—to say nothing of my sister Bennet. We would be the subject of the most severe censure imaginable.”

  Phoebe recalled Wickham having spoken of his urgency to be away from Brighton and its being the catalyst for her silly elopement scheme. She had neither seen nor heard from him since, which suited her perfectly well.

  “Oh, Mama! I was never really in love with Mr. Wickham. I only pretended to be in order to exact an act of fitting revenge against Cousin Lizzy after she stole Mr. Darcy away from me.”

  “Pray, do not be absurd, my child. Everyone who knows anything at all knows that Lizzy does not even like that gentleman—with all of his fancy airs and even if he does have ten thousand pounds a year.”

  “Which is precisely the reason I felt so betra
yed. Cousin Lizzy never liked him because she was always in love with Mr. Wickham, but that did not stop her from using her feminine arts and allurements to her best advantage to turn Mr. Darcy’s head.”

  “You know your cousin would never do such a thing.”

  “Then why in heaven’s name, pray tell, would he have asked her to marry him?” Phoebe drew in a deep breath, for she knew what happened in Hunsford was meant to be a great secret. She had promised her cousin as much.

  “Mr. Darcy asked our Lizzy to marry him? Oh, wait until I see my sister! How dare she keep such happy news a secret when everyone knows the business of her life is to marry off her five daughters? Oh, why in heavens would she keep such a thing a secret? He has ten thousand pounds a year! Why, he is as good as a lord!”

  “No, Mama! You must not say a word. I should not have said a word.”

  “But why should news this exciting remain a secret?”

  “Lizzy is not engaged to Mr. Darcy.”

  “But you just said he proposed to her.”

  “I did, and he did. But Lizzy refused his hand and in such terms as to ensure there will never be a repetition of his proposal even if he does fancy her so much, for what man would dare offer his hand in marriage to a woman who has already refused him once?”

  Mrs. Phillips shook her head.

  “Leave it to Lizzy to refuse the one man who might have been the means of saving her family from desolation should my brother Bennet die—which he most certainly will, for everyone must die sooner or later.

  “Indeed, it was selfish enough on her part to have refused Mr. Collins’s offer of marriage, but there can be no reasonable explanation at all for her rejecting Mr. Darcy’s hand. Is there any wonder she would wish for such foolish behavior to be kept a secret? My sister would be positively livid were she to find out. I dare say even her own father would frown on such foolishness.

  “I will do my best to keep it a secret although I cannot promise you anything, but I will promise you that I will try to keep your secret and that is about the best I can do.” Donning her bonnet and shawl, Mrs. Phillips headed toward the door.

  “Mama, where are you going?”

  “Why, to Longbourn Village of course. I have neither seen nor heard from my sister in days, and I miss her terribly. I shall not be away for very long.”

  “But you will not tell my aunt about Lizzy’s secret, I pray. You kept my so-called engagement a secret, after all. Surely you can afford an equal measure of discretion where Lizzy’s secret is concerned.”

  “Heavens, Daughter! Do not be ridiculous. Your so-called engagement was nothing at all in comparison to what your cousin has done. Your behavior might well have been deemed scandalous, whereas Lizzy’s behavior is a symptom of utter madness,” cried Mrs. Phillips.

  And with these words she hastily left the room, and Phoebe heard her mother the next moment open the front door and quit the house.

  Upon entering Longbourn House, Mrs. Phillips espied her sister, Mrs. Bennet, and the two youngest Bennet daughters with their ears firmly pressed against the closed parlor door.

  “What are you listening to?” she asked, rushing to secure her place beside the others.

  “Hush,” whispered Mrs. Bennet, waving her sister away with her dainty lace handkerchief.

  “Why? Who is inside?”

  Mrs. Bennet sighed heavily and, surrendering her place, took her sister by the arm, and coaxed her away from the door.

  “It is Mr. Bingley and my Jane.” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes were full of unshed tears of joy. “Oh! Sister, we are saved. Mr. Bingley is asking Jane to marry him as we speak!”

  Mrs. Phillips’ eyes opened wide. “Well, aren’t you a lucky woman, dear Sister? Two daughters engaged to wealthy gentlemen with hardly any trouble at all to yourself.”

  “What nonsense, Sister! I said my Jane is going to be engaged. I said nothing at all about any of my other girls.”

  “Then, you really do not know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  Mrs. Phillips looked back at the door. By now Mary had also joined her sisters and had taken up the task of spying on the eldest sister as well.

  “Where is Lizzy?”

  “Oh! Who knows? Who even cares? Jane is about to become the mistress of Netherfield. I always said she could not be so beautiful for nothing.”

  “Yes, and you also said Lizzy is clever. Of course, once you have heard what I have to say, you might have cause to reconsider.”

  “Lizzy? Clever? Headstrong and obstinate is more like it. Pray, Sister, what in heavens are you trying so hard to tell me?”

  “I really think you ought to be seated when you hear what I have to say,” said the other woman, attempting to coax her sister farther away from the parlor door.

  “But what about Jane? What about Mr. Bingley? I dare not miss my chance to be among the first to congratulate them. What if he should change his mind?”

  “You will be wishing the two of them joy soon enough. By the bye, I was given to believe his friend Mr. Darcy accompanied him from town.”

  Her manner ill-tempered, Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, “Oh! That horrible Mr. Darcy! He had the audacity to come here with Mr. Bingley. But he went away soon enough to allow Mr. Bingley time to request a private audience with Jane. He could not have quit Longbourn soon enough for my taste.”

  Still coaxing her sister along to another room, Mrs. Phillips said, “I wager you will not feel that way once you hear what I have to say.”

  “For heaven’s sake, do not keep me in suspense a second longer. Say what you came here to say or I shall go distracted.”

  All too aware of what was likely unfolding inside Longbourn House, Elizabeth sat alone on a bench just off the gravel walk that led to the copse. Seeing her mother’s appalling lack of decorum as the two gentlemen from Netherfield, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, entered the paddock had sent her fleeing the parlor before they were shown into the room. She knew and understood that she would see Mr. Darcy sooner or later. Indeed, she wanted to see him if for nothing else than to thank him for what he had done for her cousin. For the time being, she simply wanted more time to compose herself.

  She was roused from her seat and her reflections, by someone’s approach and the next thing she knew, her cousin Phoebe was standing before her.

  “Cousin Lizzy, I am so glad I found you before it is too late,” the younger woman cried, her breathing labored.

  “Too late? Too late for what?”

  “Well, it has to do with Mama who is at Longbourn, as we speak, visiting your mother. Oh! Lizzy, I am ever so sorry. Please say you will forgive me.”

  “Phoebe!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “What did you do?”

  “First, you must promise to forgive me.”

  Suspecting the worse, Elizabeth said, “Phoebe! Tell me anything except that you told someone what happened in Kent between Mr. Darcy and me!”

  Her voice filled with contrition, Phoebe explained what she had done. At length, she cried, “Dearest Lizzy, how can I make amends? Tell me what is to be done, and it shall be done.”

  “I think you have done quite enough,” said Elizabeth, turning on her heels rather abruptly in order to escape her cousin before she said something she might regret.

  Why did I ever believe Phoebe could be relied on to keep such a secret?

  “Where are you going?” Phoebe asked.

  “To Longbourn, of course, in the hopes of mitigating the damage wrought by your loose tongue.”

  Elizabeth was gone directly, leaving her cousin standing there. Utterly speechless.

  Chapter 27

  so material a change

  Elizabeth did not walk very far before espying Mr. Darcy just up ahead. The urgency in his steps upon seeing her gave her cause to be alarmed.

  Did he know that his proposal to her was now a matter of public knowledge? And if he did, did he hate her?

  She needed to know.

  “Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth when the two of the
m were standing face-to-face.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, bowing. “I have just left your home. Meeting you like this is a welcome surprise.”

  By the looks of things, he did not know. At least he did not know yet. And for that, Elizabeth was grateful. It would not do for him to hear of Phoebe’s lapse from another, and thus Elizabeth seized the chance to tell him herself.

  “Sir, I do not know any way to tell you, other than to come right out and say it and hope that you will not be too disgusted.”

  “This sounds very serious, Miss Elizabeth. What is it?”

  “It seems–well, sir, it seems—”

  “Miss Elizabeth, I should like to think by now that you and I are comfortable being frank with each other.”

  “I have every reason to suspect that my mother has learned of your proposal of marriage to me.”

  His countenance clouded with concern, Darcy said nothing, which was sufficient encouragement for Elizabeth to continue.

  “I already told you that my cousin Phoebe overheard the entirety of our conversation that evening at the parsonage, and while she assured me that she would not breathe a word of it to anyone, I fear making such a promise was far easier than keeping it. Phoebe told her mother, who has very likely told my mother. You know all the parties concerned too well not to know what this means. Oh! Sir, this is dreadful. How I wish I could make amends, for I fear your reputation is about to be torn into tatters.”

  “Things need not be as hopeless as that, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Sir?”

  “I proposed to you because I wanted you to be my wife. Nothing has happened since then that has changed that fact.