I hope all is well in Longbourn.
Ever your admirer and friend,
Charles Milford
Naturally, when Lizzie opened the bedroom door she found most of her family cluttered just outside watching her with eager eyes.
“She’s smiling!” said Kitty, her tone almost accusatory. “There must have been something good in that letter!
“Tell us!”
“Please tell us!”
“I would tell you!”
“Out with it, child!” Mrs. Bennet insisted.
“There is nothing of enough importance that you would need to know,” was all that Lizzie said, then she went back inside the room and shut the door before the crowd of curious women could force its way inside.
She sat at her desk and began writing her reply.
As Mr. Milford promised, this would become a weekly routine at the Bennet house. It only took two more weeks for Lizzie’s sisters to lose interest in the mundane content of the letters. Mrs. Bennet’s concern in the matter persisted for several more, but even she grew tired of constantly asking about the letters and receiving no news that she deemed interesting in return.
It wasn’t until the ninth week that a letter finally arrived that sent the household back into a frenzy.
Lizzie, as per routine, had disappeared into her room to read the letter -despite the fact that no one ever tried to follow her anymore-. On that day, however, she left her room within five minutes of going in. This alone was enough to catch Jane’s attention.
“Lizzie!” Jane walked up to her with a concerned expression. “You look pale, are you alright?” Jane grabbed a hold of her sister’s hand. “Has something bad happened with the duke?”
Lizzie shook her head while staring mutely at her golden-haired sister.
“What is it, Lizzie?” Jane squeezed her hand. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“He’s proposed.”
Lizzie blurted it out, her expression still distraught.
“What?” Jane, always the soft-spoken one, could not keep her voice down as she replied. “Proposed?”
“WHAT?” the shrill chorus came from somewhere within the house, though it could not be exactly narrowed down to a specific spot. It did not take long for the house to begin rattling as if shaken by an earthquake, as every resident rushed over from wherever they had been to join the two eldest daughters where they stood.
They shot the questions at Lizzie faster than she could answer them all, even if she had intended to. Kitty and Lydia did not wait for her to say anything before barging past their slightly stunned sister and into the bedroom. The letter was on the floor, a seemingly inconsequential piece of paper to be readily dismissed if not for the meaning in its content.
Lydia seized the letter while Lizzie still did not move to stop her, and began reading from it out loud:
“Dearest Miss Elizabeth… Can’t tell you how much I have grown to care for you… From the moment I met you… Understand this is unorthodox… Could not wait any longer to ask… Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife!”
The last part, of course, should have been read as a question, but out of Lydia’s lips it came as an exclamatory shriek instead. Which was joined by the shrieks of every other sister within an instant.
“We’re saved!” Mrs. Bennet actually threw herself on her knees. Mr. Bennet -unable to hold up his usual disinterested distance this time- stood behind her and watched Lizzie intently.
Jane was smiling so widely that on another day with her mind less occupied, Lizzie might have worried that her sister’s face might split. There were tears in the fair woman’s eyes and at some point her arms had encircled Lizzie. Jane was shaking with laughter, or perhaps it was the younger sisters who were now carelessly jumping around them that caused the shaking.
Lizzie remained almost perfectly still for a very long time. The others were too ecstatic to take notice of this, with the exception of Mr. Bennet.
“Calm down now,” he said with a note of vague -almost bored- annoyance. His voice had enough authority to at least get the girls to lower their squeals. “Lizzie still has to accept the proposal.”
Mrs. Bennet balked at that. “Why, Mr. Bennet! Don’t be silly! How could there be any question about it? Our Lizzie is going to marry a duke, a duke! I wonder how Mrs. Lucas will react to that! Oh, Lizzie! You were so astute to turn down that Mr. Collins! I always knew you could do better!”
The blatant hypocrisy of her words seemed to completely elude Mrs. Bennet. Normally, Lizzie would have been irritated by it, but in that moment she could not find it in herself to be concerned.
Mr. Milford had proposed.
Cheerful, handsome, ever charming Mr. Milford had asked her to marry him. The Duke of Ausbury wanted her to be his wife.
This was no Mr. Collins proposing. This was no Mr. Darcy proposing. There was no insult to be found in his words, no offense whatsoever. For a fleeting moment, Lizzie thought that this written proposal somehow lacked something, and she remembered the intensity that she had seen in Mr. Darcy’s eyes and felt in his words beyond the faulted lines. She shook this thought off, however, realizing that she was being silly, trying to find fault where there was no evidence of any.
At long last, Lizzie smiled.
“I must reply to Mr. Milford,” she said, her gaze focused on Mr. Bennet in a quiet request for approval. “I will marry him.”
Mr. Bennet stared at her for a long interval. Then, he said, “Alright. I suppose we are to have a wedding.”
Chapter 6
In the days following the news of Elizabeth Bennet’s engagement to the Duke of Ausbury, there must have been many whispers and murmurs regarding the entirely unexpected news; but none of these soft-spoken opinions and hushed insinuations could possibly compete with the loud proclamations that Mrs. Bennet made sure to throw to the wind every single day following the event.
Days after the written proposal was received and Lizzie’s reply sent, another letter was delivered to Longbourn announcing that Mr. Milford was already making arrangements to come back to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. He said that as soon as everything was settled for his return, they could fix a date for the wedding. They might as well have been married already for the fervour with which Mrs. Bennet was celebrating.
On her part, Lizzie was happy. Mr. Milford was, she surmised, just the kind of gentleman that she had always hoped to fall in love with. Whenever Jane mentioned that she somehow didn’t appear to be as excited or as joyful as she should have been for someone who had gotten engaged to the person they love, Lizzie said that it had all just happened so unexpectedly that it was hard to believe. She rationalized both to her sister and herself that, once Mr. Milford returned to Hertfordshire and she was able to actually see him again, all that euphoria would finally bubble up to the surface and make itself shown. In the meantime, she would remain practical and level-headed -if only because someone needed to balance off their mother. It was only late at night that Lizzie allowed herself to wonder if something might be off in the situation of a duke wanting to marry someone with as little prospects as herself. Every night though, before being claimed by sleep, she attributed these questions to normal self-doubt and insecurity. Perhaps she had always thought that such romance existed only in novels and that her hopes of finding it were too far-fetched to be realized. She needed only to let her guard down and enjoy this surprising turn of events.
For her family’s part, there seemed no need to question the probability of the situation. There was talk of very little else besides the engagement in the Bennet household for several long days. Lizzie preferred this sudden giddiness over the previous dejected resignation that had permeated the very air before, but having all that focus on her began to make her feel like a cornered animal. The walls of the house had become stifling, and between all the shopping trips and the fittings and the planning, two weeks passed by in which Lizzie had barely had a moment to even think, let alone enjoy some
time to herself.
To add to this, one day Lydia announced that she had received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, to accompany her and the soldiers of the regiment to Brighton. She declared that she intended to leave with them and was brimming with joy to such an extent that she would not hear another word on the matter from anyone.
Lizzie tried to reason that allowing Lydia to go to Brighton would be folly. Mr. Bennet would not be persuaded to take up the near impossible task of convincing Lydia of this. He argued that amongst the many distinguished people that could be found in Brighton, Lydia had little to no chance of being noticed at all. She was allowed to go without further obstacle.
To make matters worse, on the last day of the regiment’s stay at Meryton, some of the officers were invited to dine at Longbourn -Mr. Wickham included. It was all that Lizzie could do to remain civil in his presence. His response to news of her engagement was so disaffected and mechanical as to erase all possibility of remaining doubts that Mr. Darcy’s account of the man’s appalling character might have been wrong.
Just as Lizzie was starting to feel like she was about to drown in the excess of events, salvation came in the form of her aunt and uncle.
Upon hearing news of her recent engagement, Mr. and Mrs. Gardener immediately sent their congratulations. More importantly, they let Lizzie know that they would be taking a trip soon, a tour of the county of Derbyshire, and that she was welcome to come and get away town for a time if she wished. Lizzie could have cried tears of joy upon hearing the offer. A part of her was wary of visiting the county in which Pemberley -and therefore its owner, Mr. Darcy- was located. And yet she assumed that Derbyshire was a large enough place, with enough sites to explore that she might be able to spend several weeks there without risk of running into Mr. Darcy. Moreover, the need to escape Longbourn for some time vastly overpowered her cautiousness.
Amidst the loud protests of her mother, Lizzie packed her things and left the Bennet home and its residents to carry on with the wedding chaos without her.
Together with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Lizzie went on a tour of Derbyshire. Her immediate impression was that it was a beautiful countryside. The air, somehow, felt fresher than that of Hertfordshire, though that might have been a mere perception caused by the distance which separated Lizzie and her more hectic family members. The company of her more distant relatives had a definite calming effect. For every moment spent with them, there was no talk of nerves or of handsome soldiers or of any of the more trivial aspects of a marriage. Lizzie had sorely needed a break from such conversations.
Unfortunately, Lizzie couldn’t avoid every unsavoury topic.
“We’re not too far from Pemberley,” Mrs. Gardiner mentioned cheerfully one evening after they had all retired from the day’s activities into the inn they stayed at in the town of Lambton.
“Indeed, we should take the tour tomorrow,” replied Mr. Gardiner in his usual fine mood.
Lizzie stiffened beside them.
“What do you say, Lizzie?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, though it was clear that she already expected a positive answer.
Lizzie feigned weak laughter to cover up her distress. “Truthfully, I take little pleasure in seeing fine carpets and satin curtains.”
Her remark was met with reprimands. Her aunt declared that the true enchantment in Pemberley lay not in the fine house, but in the lovely woods that surrounded it. They also assumed, since they did not know the truth of Mr. Wickham’s character, that Lizzie would have liked to see the place where her acquaintance had spent his childhood. Unable to explain in detail the true reasons for her reluctance to go, Lizzie had no choice but to go along with their plans.
She was assured, after some inquiry, that the owner of the house would be absent for the time of their planned visit. Knowing this, Lizzie more readily agreed with the tour. She did her best to appear appropriately eager to explore the estate.
On the very next morning they went to Pemberley as planned, and Lizzie understood immediately why her aunt and uncle had wanted to come. The woods truly were beautiful to behold, and once their carriage made it up to the valley were the house itself sat, she was overcome with awe. Surprisingly, her awe came not so much from the grandeur of the building itself, but from the natural landscape that surrounded it almost unperturbed by the hand of man. Upon seeing it, Lizzie had to admit, if only to herself, that the lady who got to live there someday would be very lucky indeed.
They were led into the house by an amiable housekeeper named Mrs. Reynolds. The woman happily toured them around the grand dwelling, talking of the decorations and the furniture in the rooms in the manner of someone both knowledgeable and genuinely interested in the affairs of her masters. More than the place itself, however, the housekeeper spoke fervently of her master, Mr. Darcy.
She spoke candidly of his kindness and his good manners, both as a child and as a man. She made it evident that she could not be happier to serve such a good family, and Lizzie’s mind whirled with such allegations.
Kind and good mannered? The way that Mrs. Reynolds spoke of him made it seem as though he was a perfect gentleman with a gentle temper. She also claimed that he was the handsomest man she knew, and Lizzie found that this was one claim she could not reasonably refute. And yet, her own thoughts on Mr. Darcy’s character so harshly contrasted with those of the housekeeper, that she could not help but wonder if they were thinking of the same person.
Indeed, Mrs. Reynolds went on for so long about the good qualities of her master, encouraged by the easy conversation of Mr. Gardiner, that Lizzie herself began to consider the possibility of her having missed some crucial part of Mr. Darcy’s character. Surely, the proud and stern man who had proposed to her all those months ago could not also be the man that was being described to her then… Could he?
The housekeeper’s admiration was not reserved solely for Mr. Darcy either. She spoke highly of his sister as well, Miss Darcy, and of their late father. It seemed that the whole family was perceived to be wholly likeable by this woman who had known and served them for most of their lives. And, it appeared, according to Mrs. Reynolds, that Mr. Darcy was particularly dedicated to the well-being of his sister and his servants as well.
When the Gardiners and Lizzie were led into a room where a large painting of Mr. Darcy hung on the wall, Lizzie stopped to stare at it longer than the others. The man in the frame stared back at her with eyes that somehow gave the impression of tenderness, and those eyes reappeared in her memories of the ill-fated proposal. For so long she had held on to the idea that he had been proud and cold as he declared his love for her, but now it was as though a veil was being lifted from her eyes and she saw an alternate version of him in that moment, vulnerable and anxious instead of arrogant.
“Lizzie, you can tell us whether it is a like or not!” her uncle asked at one point, signalling to the portrait and watching his niece with curiosity.
The revelation that she knew the master of the house seemed to delight Mrs. Reynolds, and it was all Lizzie could do to keep herself from blushing.
The tour went on with more praise for the master of Pemberley, and Lizzie listened in silence to it all, unable to form a clear opinion on whether she thought the housekeeper misguided or herself mistaken. By the end of it, she tried to dismiss the thoughts from her mind. She thought of Mr. Milford, and his unquestionably pleasing character. She would marry him soon, and she had no reason to question her opinion of him.
It occurred to her, in that instant, that she had no other opinion to base her judgement of Mr. Milford on. She had only met him shortly, and she felt she had gotten to know him further through his letters. Yet, she had not met any of his relatives besides Mr. Elkins, who had been too occupied making remarks about the Bennet sisters to really speak about the character of his cousin. Would Mr. Milford’s servants be able to praise him so highly? Would they feel as fortunate to be in his service as Mrs. Reynolds did to work for the Darcys?
This last thought is what Lizzie decided to hold on to, but she resolved to inquire to Mr. Milford after his other relatives and when she might meet them. For the present, she reminded herself that this whole tour of Derbyshire had been designed to have her relax, and there was no reason for her to allow a conflict of opinion distract her from this goal.
She was both relieved and a bit disappointed when the tour of the inside of the house finally came to an end. Mrs. Reynolds led them out to the front of the house, and for a moment the beauty of the landscape was enough to truly put Lizzie at ease.
That is, until she noticed a figure walking up to them. The figure was familiar from a distance, but it wasn’t until he came within a few feet of her that Lizzie had to bring herself to accept who it was.
Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 7
To put it shortly, Lizzie was mortified.
The fact that she was face to face to the man whose proposal she had so fervently rejected was bad enough, but the fact that it happened while she was walking around his house, uninvited, was beyond any level of shame that she thought she had ever experienced before. She could feel her face grow hot with an obvious blush, and it was but a small respite to see that Mr. Darcy’s face reflected her own colouring.
“Elizabeth…” he said, his voice thick and wavering in a way that was very unlike his usual composed tone. “Good day, I hope you are well.” He spoke hurriedly, his tongue almost tripping over the words.
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 38