by Ola Wegner
“Yes, Papa,” she said politely as she entered the library.
He gestured to the chair opposite his armchair. “Sit down, child.”
Elizabeth did as she was asked.
After a long moment of mutual silence, Mr. Bennet asked. “What were you thinking, Lizzy, accepting this man?”
“Papa, I...”
“How do you imagine your life with someone whom you cannot respect? sofar as I know, someone you dislike.”
“Papa, I have doubts too, but... I have given a lot of thought to it, and there are many other reasons which speak in favour of Mr. Darcy.”
“May I know those reasons?”
Elizabeth lowered her head. “He is wealthy,” she acknowledged very quietly.
There was a sharp intake of air on Mr. Bennet’s side. “Lizzy, wealth is not the most important matter. I thought that I taught you that.”
“Father, it is easy for you to say; Longbourn will always provide you with a comfortable life. Have you ever thought about us, about me, Jane, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and Mama?” she asked grudgingly.
Mr. Bennet seemed surprised with her outburst and said nothing for a moment. “I am not dying yet, child. Surely some man would come along in the right time for you, who will give you security.”
“You cannot know that, Papa. You cannot be sure of that,” she protested. “Have you ever given a second thought to what will happen with us in the future? There is no financial safety for us. The only work we could do is to be a governess, and it is a life of insecurity and humiliation. I do not want such a life.”
“You exaggerate, Elizabeth. We are well to do.”
“Today, yes, but what about tomorrow?” she cried.
“It is not your responsibility to think about it,” he dismissed her worry.
“Perhaps I should think about it if you choose not to!” she blurted out and then covered her mouth with a hand, realizing what she had just said.
Mr. Bennet’s jaws set in tight lines, and he ordered. “Elizabeth, I will not allow you to speak to me like this.”
“I am sorry, Papa. I said too much; I should not have,” she apologized quietly, but then added more firmly. “However, I still do not think that you should hold it against me that I am afraid of the future, and I am trying to find some solution.”
She stood up and stalked out of the library, running straight to the garden. She needed to be alone for a while, and she walked farther than she had intended, fighting tears the entire time. She hated quarrelling with her father. They had understood each other so well in the past. What had happened? Why could he not understand her now, her fears and apprehension?
When she returned home, from the doorstep, she heard her mother’s voice.
“Lizzy, where have you been for so long?” Mrs. Bennet cried, looking at her second daughter, bonnet pulled down and hanging by the ribbons down her back, hair in disarray, the edge of her petticoats edged in mud.
“Look at yourself! Where have you been?” she demanded. “We finished breakfast over an hour ago.”
“I went for a walk, Mama,” Elizabeth answered listlessly, dragging her feet as she stepped upstairs. “I needed some time alone, and I forgot about breakfast. I am not hungry.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked her blue eyes, staring at her second daughter. In all twenty years of Elizabeth’s life, or at least since the girl had learned to stand on her own feet, she had never been upset after her favourite activity, a long walk.
The lady stood in the hallway for a long moment, before she hurried after Elizabeth.
“Lizzy.” Mrs. Bennet knocked, and without waiting for an invitation, stepped into the large bedroom with two identical beds, which her two eldest daughters had shared for years.
Elizabeth lay on the bed, the woollen blanket draped over her. Her bonnet and spencer were abandoned on the chair, her shoes kicked under it.
Mrs. Bennet picked up the spencer and put it neatly on a hanger and then arranged the abandoned shoes next to the door for the maid to take for cleaning later. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and reached her hand to touch the dark curls.
Elizabeth glanced at her in surprise, not accustomed to such affectionate gestures on her part.
“Is this about Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet asked fretfully. “Did you have a misunderstanding? Is he angry with you about something, Lizzy? Is that the reason he did not come here after you?”
Elizabeth sat up.
“No, Mama. Mr. Darcy needed to go to Matlock, as I told you. His uncle asked his help on some urgent family matter. He promised to be back to see me as soon as possible.”
“What is the matter then?”
Elizabeth looked at the woman who was her mother. Mrs. Bennet looked sincerely concerned.
“It is about Papa,” Elizabeth sighed. “He is upset with me.”
“Your father is upset with you?” Mrs. Bennet cried. “You never do anything wrong in his eyes.”
“He thinks me a mercenary.”
Mrs. Bennet frowned. “How?”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip and two large tears rolled down her cheeks. “He thinks I agreed to marry Mr. Darcy just because of his wealth.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked her blue eyes. “What? Mr. Darcy actually asked you to marry you?”
“Yes, he did, back in Kent.”
“Your father told us that Mr. Darcy asked only for the permission to court you.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, Mr. Darcy came one day, unexpectedly, to the parsonage when I was all alone and proposed. I agreed, and he decided to come to Longbourn the very next day to ask Papa for my hand. Papa agreed to courtship only. He said six months at least.”
“What a fool!” Mrs. Bennet cried angrily. “I will go talk with him right away!”
Elizabeth grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Mama, please do not! Do not talk to Papa about it!”
“But, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy may very well not want to wait that long.”
“He will, Mama. Mr. Darcy told me that he is willing to wait .”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mama. I think he is rather fond of me.”
“My smart girl, to catch such a man.” Mrs. Bennet patted her cheek, calming down with Elizabeth’s assurance. “I am so proud of you. I still do not understand why your father did not agree at once to the engagement.”
“I think that Papa wanted to give me time to think, a chance to change my mind.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped loudly. “Heaven forbid.”
“What if Papa is right? Mama, I know I agreed to Mr. Darcy’s proposal for security reasons only. Papa thinks I will not be happy marrying a man I do not care for and respect, whom I do not love.”
“Elizabeth, child, you cannot think like that. I truly loved your father when I married him, but he never respected me and tired of me quickly. He thinks I failed him, not giving him a son.”
“Mama, I am not convinced whether Mr. Darcy has any true respect for me. He wants to have me.”
“Lizzy, you are too smart for anyone not to respect you! Do not be so childish,” Mrs. Bennet chided her. “Use your head this time, girl, for something different from reading books in foreign languages or discussing politics from your father’s newspapers. Mr. Darcy is smart too. I heard him speaking a few times to other people, and I always failed to catch his meaning. You are so bright, Lizzy, that you can make him listen to you and respect your opinions.”
“I do not love him, Mama,” Elizabeth murmured weakly.
Mrs. Bennet lifted her chin. “Lizzy, if love is so important to you, who says that you cannot learn to love Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth scrambled from the bed with energy. “Oh, Mama, he is so rude, haughty and unsociable! He thinks himself above us all. You said it yourself more than once. If you heard the tone of his proposal.” She threw her arms in the air. “He insulted all of us! What is more, I am sure he put his hand to separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. What about Mr. Wickham, how Mr. Darcy mistreated him, denying him t
he promised living?”
“Mr. Wickham!” Mrs. Bennet shrugged. “He is nobody. People of no consequence to the world often weave such stories about rich people because they are jealous. I must tell you, Lizzy, from the very beginning, I thought that Mr. Wickham’s story about Mr. Darcy was untrue.”
Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, her whole posture tense.
Mrs. Bennet walked to her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “As for Jane, I think that your marriage to Mr. Darcy is an excellent way to bring her and Mr. Bingley together.”
Elizabeth relaxed. “I thought the same, Mama,” she agreed in a much calmer voice. “Jane deserves to be happy. She is the best person in the world. I know she hasn’t forgotten Mr. Bingley, even though she insists that she has.”
Mrs. Bennet turned her daughter to her. “You are a good child, Lizzy. I know that I was harsh on you when you rejected Mr. Collins, but understand me, I want you all to have secure futures. I wish all my girls to have their own homes, be respectable, and never suffer from poverty. I made a good match, and I want the same for you and all your sisters.”
“I know, Mama. I understand you better now.”
Mrs. Bennet pulled Elizabeth closer and patted her back. “Do not worry about your father, Lizzy. I will deal with him, and he will not bother you anymore. He does not understand some things. He is a man, and he is jealous.”
Elizabeth blinked her eyes. “Jealous?”
Mrs. Bennet shrugged her arms. “Of course. You were always his favourite. He cannot bear that such an intelligent and powerful man wants you and will take you away from him, or even worse that you could care for Mr. Darcy more than for him. Poor old fool.”
Elizabeth swallowed away new tears. “You think so.”
“Yes, child, All fathers are in love with their daughters and do not want to give them away. You fret too much about everything, child, always seeing the worst thing possible to happen, and sometimes I think it is the only quality that you have taken after me.” Mrs. Bennet patted her cheek. “Now, have some rest, and I will send you a warm breakfast to your room. Later, perhaps, we could take an open carriage and go to Meryton for a little shopping with the girls?”
Elizabeth smiled through her tears. “Yes, Mama,” she responded, then stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seven
A few days had passed, and Elizabeth’s spirits began to gradually improve, despite the fact that Mr. Bennet barely spoke to her. It was not only to her, however, for he appeared only during meals, spending the rest of the day in the library or on horseback in the field. The fact that her father disapproved of her hurt very much, causing almost physical pain deep inside her. She had offended him, and she regretted that, but she could not make herself apologize to him one more time.
Surprisingly, her mother became much kinder to her these days than ever before. Elizabeth felt that her mother’s new attitude had not only been caused by the fact that she managed to bring to the family a wealthy man. Mrs. Bennet, as a woman, understood her decision better than her father did and, therefore, was more sympathetic to her feelings.
One afternoon, almost a week after her return from Kent, Elizabeth was curled up on the sofa in the parlour with a new book. Jane was sewing, Kitty remodelling her old bonnet, Mary studying new music sheets, their mother dozing on her favourite chair, and Lydia sitting on the window ledge, observing the drive to the house.
“Someone is coming,” the youngest Bennet noted in a dull voice and, after a moment, added more excitedly. “A man.”
Mrs. Bennet bolted from her place. “Mr. Darcy! It must be Mr. Darcy.” She rushed to the window. “Yes, it is he! How handsome he is on that black horse!” She turned from the window and ran to Elizabeth. “Oh, Lizzy, leave that book and show me your dress.” She grabbed the book from Elizabeth's hands and pulled her to her feet. “This dress is no good at all. You should have picked something newer, in a brighter colour, and, most importantly, cut lower.”
Elizabeth blushed. “Mama!”
“Oh, child, do not be so naive! You will not tell me he always looks only into your eyes.”
“I will not change into another dress,” Elizabeth argued, her teeth clenched. “This dress is perfectly suitable, and it is too late for that anyway.”
Soon there was a knock on the door. All the ladies arranged themselves in decorous positions, and Mrs. Bennet spoke loudly, blinking at Elizabeth.
“Enter.”
The door opened and the servant announced. “Mr. Darcy to see Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy entered, and his eyes scanned the room, stopping on Elizabeth, who stood in the farthest corner of the room. She met his eyes bravely and smiled, before dropping a curtsey. He instantly smiled back, but his face went emotionless again when he stepped to greet the lady of the house.
Mr. Darcy sat down on the indicated chair, but said nothing. Mrs. Bennet found herself responsible for carrying the conversation, which was limited to numerous questions on her part. She enquired of the guest about his journey, about the business which detained him for so long, about the state of the roads, and ended on the question of whether he was hungry.
Darcy answered in monosyllables, his eyes not leaving Elizabeth’s person most of the time. The object of his attention said little, answering only his general questions about her health and well-being.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her hands, placed on her lap, blushing furiously at her mother’s rude questioning of the guest, but at the same time, angry at Mr. Darcy’s neglectful answers.
Fifteen minutes into the visit, it came to the point when Mrs. Bennet had nothing more to ask Mr. Darcy, unless she wanted to enquire at what age he went to university or stopped wearing nappies. She noticed him looking steadily at Elizabeth, and at last, she figured out what he truly wanted.
“Lizzy, would you like to show the garden to Mr. Darcy? We have introduced quite a few changes this spring, Mr. Darcy. We have a new gardener and he is very progressive. I am sure that you will be happy to see them.”
“Indeed, ma’am.” Darcy stood up, bowed to the lady of the house, and walked to the door, where he waited for Elizabeth.
Elizabeth forced a smiled and silently walked to join Darcy, who opened the door for her.
“Lizzy, just make sure to bring Mr. Darcy back for tea,” Mrs. Bennet said when Elizabeth walked past her. “We have a cake today that he enjoyed so much the last time he was at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth did not bother with fetching her spenser and bonnet or changing her shoes; the day was warm, and they did not intend to walk far.
She accepted his arm as they stepped outside. He kept her close to him, but he did not try to speak, and Elizabeth decided not to start the conversation first. She was curious how long it would take for him to say something.
To her surprise, he directed them away from the house, towards the small park at the back, which was separated by a low brick wall from the main garden.
“At last,” she heard, when they walked between the trees, their branches hiding them completely from view from the house.
“Mr. Darcy,” she managed to say before she was pulled into his arms.
“William, please."
He was whispering into her ear, kissing the sensitive skin on her neck.
“William!” She pushed away from him, “We should not,” she murmured.
He was not displeased with her resistance; he smiled. “As you wish.” He took her hand and asked. “Is there a quiet place where we can sit down ?”
Elizabeth nodded and led them to a stone bench nearby.
Darcy did not wait for her to sit first, as she expected him to do, but took his place and then pulled her down so she sat close to him in the crook of his arm, his right hand casually draped over her back. Once again, she was astounded with his casual attitude when they were in private, in contrast with his usual very proper manners when in company.
“How ha
ve you been for the last fortnight, Lizzy?” he asked softly.
Elizabeth shivered at his baritone voice resonating near her ear.
“Are you cold?” his arm wrapped protectively around her, his hand rubbing her bare forearm.
“No, it is just...” she turned her head to look up at him.
He smiled, his eyes warm. “What, love?”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip. What was she to say to him? Was she to admit that she felt a warm feeling pulling at the pit of her stomach every time he lowered his voice, called her an endearment or looked at her like he was at this very moment?
“How was your trip?” she asked, trying to give her voice a normal tone and ignore the goose bumps prickling on her skin as he stroked her arm with the pads of his fingertips.
Darcy sighed, and she felt his body tense. “My cousin’s refuses to make that woman go. He says he loves her and wants to take care of her and their child.”
Elizabeth turned to him completely, placing her hand lightly on his thigh for a moment. “Do you find his decision wrong?” she asked and took her hand away because he stiffened visibly when she touched him.
“He is married,” he paused. “His marriage was arranged though. His wife comes from a very wealthy family, and it was a very good match for our family as far as connections and fortune are concerned but...”
“Yes.”
He looked in front of himself. “His wife is not someone who could be recognised as amiable. She is like Caroline Bingley, only ten times worse. Her past, before she entered our family, is questionable, to say the least, and she has not conducted herself like a lady should do. I do not blame George that he escaped home in the past. I think he really loves this other woman. She is not a harlot, I understand. She had never had such an arrangement with a man before she met my cousin.”
“What is your uncle's reaction?”
“As expected in such a situation, he is furious. He insists on sending the woman away, but I think that after the babe is born, in a month or two, I believe, and he and my aunt see it, he will change his mind. This will be their first grandchild. They cannot count on one from Richard, I mean Colonel Fitzwilliam, any time soon.”