by Jann Rowland
“You see?” asked Bingley, regarding them both with mock annoyance. “I cannot even give her away to Fitzwilliam, and he is more in need of her dowry than you. How am I to ever find a man willing to marry her if her dowry is not inducement enough?”
Darcy winced at Bingley’s less than kind assertion of his sister’s caustic personality, though he agreed without reservation. Fitzwilliam, however, only snorted with laughter.
“You are severe on your sister.”
“I know I should not speak so,” replied Bingley. “But it is not unwarranted.”
“It seems to me the first task should be to get Darcy married off to Miss Bennet. With him removed from consideration, your sister will be forced to turn her attention to some other man.”
Bingley sighed. “She has had marriage proposals from perfectly acceptable men but has rejected them in hopes of capturing Darcy. She sets her sights too high.”
“But if Darcy is not available, then the truth of the matter might become clear to her. She is, what, three and twenty now?”
“Four and twenty, actually,” replied Bingley absently.
“The fear of becoming an old maid might make her more reasonable.”
“It is possible.” Bingley turned to Darcy. “I do not suppose I could convince you and Lizzy to announce your engagement now?”
“I am bound to follow Lizzy’s wishes,” replied Darcy, shaking his head.
“She is of age.”
“And yet she wishes to wait. You know her reasons. I will not insist.”
“Either way,” interjected Fitzwilliam, “you know that nothing less than Darcy’s marriage will induce her to surrender. You should be pushing him to make for Gretna Green.
Bingley brightened and looked at Darcy, who just shook his head. Fitzwilliam burst out in laughter, and though Darcy thought the discussion was highly inappropriate, he and Bingley soon joined him.
“Ah, well, it was worth asking,” said Bingley.
The discussion descended to ennui after that, nothing more than a comment here and there of little import. Darcy watched his cousin as they talked, noting Fitzwilliam was his usual lighthearted self. Nothing he said indicated what he had been doing at Teasdale Manor, and Darcy’s curiosity increased the longer they sat there.
Finally, Bingley excused himself to return to his room and Darcy was afforded the opportunity to quiz his cousin. The answers, however, were not to his liking.
“You seem to have been engaged often at Teasdale Manor lately. I am surprised you have been there so often of late.”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes swung to Darcy. “She is not a bad woman, Darcy.”
“I have never considered her to be so, regardless of her behavior with Elizabeth. But I do wonder about your intentions.”
“As do I, Darcy,” replied Fitzwilliam quietly. “The earl has taken an interest in me, and I cannot fault him. I will be calling on Lady Emily, but I do not know how it will end.”
“That is an interesting development. How did it all come about?”
Fitzwilliam spent the next several minutes explaining his conversation with the earl, of the earl’s wishes for his daughter, Fitzwilliam’s agreement to call on her, his confusion of whether she was what he wished for, and the possible motives for her actions toward Darcy and Elizabeth. In the end, Darcy was forced to agree that Fitzwilliam’s information did explain quite a lot.
“I still do not exonerate her for leaving Elizabeth to fend for herself,” said Darcy after his cousin had completed his recitation.
“Nor should you,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I am inclined to think of it as losing her temper in a moment of anger. It was not right, and she will need to prove herself in that regard. She will need to regain my trust, as well as yours.”
Darcy grunted, but did not respond.
“The earl’s arguments were persuasive, but I want more than simply to father the next Earl of Chesterfield. The coming days and weeks will reveal my future path. I will say that I am not opposed to an alliance with Lady Emily, only that I wish to have a connection with her before I move forward.”
“Then I wish you the best of luck, Cousin,” replied Darcy. “I know what this could mean for you, beyond finding a woman you can love. I hope it all works out in the end.”
And Darcy did. Though a few short days ago, the notion of a connection with the lady might have been abhorrent, he had had time to think about it. She was and would continue to be his neighbor, and it was important to maintain good relations with her and her father. If Fitzwilliam married her, Darcy had no doubt their relations would return to what they were before. It was equally obvious that Fitzwilliam would be a good master of the estates and would be a good husband and check on her, if her behavior toward Elizabeth was not simply an isolated incident.
Chapter XXVIII
Elizabeth spent the rest of the day moping—there was no other way to describe it. The hope for her sister’s change back to the person she knew had been tempered by the realistic expectation that nothing had, indeed, changed, but that did not make the blow any less severe.
It was fortunate, then, that Elizabeth was not made for melancholy, and furthermore, had relations who were not about to allow her to wallow in self-pity. In particular, it was Olivia who took it upon herself to raise Elizabeth’s spirits.
“I was surprised by your new sister by marriage, Lizzy,” said Olivia.
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth. “In what way?”
“Why, from all the hints you have given me of her character, I expected her to be much more prideful than she was. She only sneered at me once, though she made a much better showing to you. How can you account for such a lackluster performance?”
Olivia’s tease was so surprising that Elizabeth almost choked on her tongue. Then she had no choice but to burst into laughter. “I am sorry to inform you, dearest, but I believe she felt you beneath her notice. If she had considered you more, I am certain she would have made a better showing.”
A superior sniff, so reminiscent of the woman at whose expense they were laughing, was Olivia’s response. “I suppose I shall have to wait and see, then. But if she does not respond appropriately, I will be forced to consider your words an exaggeration.”
“You may do so if you like,” said Elizabeth.
They bantered on for some time, speaking at Miss Bingley’s expense, and though Elizabeth knew that she should moderate Olivia’s words and her own amusement at the woman’s conceit, she decided she had little desire to do so. The lady was eminently deserving of it. For the rest of the evening, therefore, Elizabeth found herself in much better spirits, and she allowed herself to forget her troubles for a time.
The next day brought a shock which Elizabeth had not been expecting. It happened in the morning, as Elizabeth and Olivia were preparing to once again go to Pemberley in the Edward’s company. They were in Olivia’s room changing into appropriate clothing and making certain they were presentable when the sound of a carriage was heard on the drive.
“Was Mr. Darcy to come today, Lizzy?” asked Olivia.
Elizabeth frowned. “I do not think so, though I suppose it is possible.”
As Elizabeth was still looking in the mirror, ensuring her hair was in place, Olivia took herself to the window, which overlooked the front drive of the house, and pulled aside the curtains to afford herself a better view.
“It is not one of the Darcy carriages,” said she. “It is much smaller, in fact.”
Curious, Elizabeth followed her cousin to the window and looked out. The carriage was familiar to Elizabeth. Very familiar.
“Papa!” gasped she, and she turned and ran out the door, the sound of Olivia’s startled exclamations following her down the stairs.
By the time Elizabeth had reached the outer door, her father was already alighting from the carriage and her uncle was greeting him.
“Lizzy!” said Mr. Bennet, as Elizabeth flew into his embrace. “I have m
issed you, my darling daughter.”
“I have missed you too, Father, but I am shocked to see you.” She turned a look on her uncle. “Did you know Father was to come?”
“He did, but you may reserve your displeasure for me alone. I asked him not to inform you.”
Elizabeth looked on her father, wondering at his meaning, but he was already turning to supervise the unloading of his trunks and seeing to the disposition of the carriage driver. Soon these tasks were complete, and Mr. Bennet came into the house with the rest of them. He was greeted by all, Mrs. Drummond greeting her brother with more than a little asperity, and settled in to speak to them.
“What brings you here, Father?” asked Elizabeth.
Elizabeth did not miss the glance he shot at Mrs. Drummond, and she was aware of his dissembling when he responded. “I have received some interesting news of late, Lizzy, and I thought it would be best if I came to deal with it personally.”
There were two interpretations to his statement. His wish to keep the reason for his coming from his sister might have applied to either reason. Elizabeth did not think he was aware of the engagement and did not think he would have come for nothing more than the knowledge that a man was paying attention to her. But she did not think he would have come for the other reason either.
Regardless, she did not wish to speak with him with her aunt listening intently to their every word, so she suggested a walk around the back park, to which he readily agreed.
“Shall I send a note to Pemberley, Lizzy?” asked Olivia. “It seems like we will not be going there today.”
“I see no reason why we should not, Olivia,” replied Mr. Bennet. “If you will allow me to speak with Lizzy for a few moments, we may depart soon after. I believe I will enjoy meeting these people of whom I have heard so much.”
“And Jane is there,” said Olivia.
“She is, indeed, though I did see her only days before she departed Hertfordshire. Still, I would be happy to go with you if you will wait patiently.”
Olivia nodded happily and father rose to escort his daughter from the room, Mrs. Drummond looking on, her countenance more than usually unreadable.
They walked in silence for some few minutes, Elizabeth waiting—albeit with impatience—for her father to tell her why he had taken the trouble to visit Derbyshire again when she knew how much he loathed to travel. But Mr. Bennet appeared less than inclined to speak. His manner was contemplative, his mien thoughtful.
Finally, Elizabeth could stand the silence no longer. “I must own to some confusion and concern, Papa. I cannot account for your being here. Was it wise to leave Kitty and Lydia at home with Mama? You know she will indulge them without anyone to check her.”
“You speak of the matter as if I have ever taken the trouble to check her, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth, confused, could not immediately respond, and Mr. Bennet chuckled. “In fact, I believe you would be proud of me of late, Lizzy. You are correct that the girls should not be left to their own devices, but they are not alone. Your Aunt Gardiner has come to Longbourn for the summer with her children, and it is she who has the care of your sisters.”
“I thought aunt and uncle were to journey to the lakes.”
“Their plans were altered because of your uncle’s business,” replied her father. “It seems he is not able to travel after all this summer, so they made arrangements for your aunt to have a holiday of her own in Hertfordshire, though I cannot imagine it will be at all restful for her.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth. “And what of Mama? You know that she is not happy if anyone gainsays her with respect to Kitty and Lydia.”
“That is another matter that has changed. I presume you are aware of the militia’s removal to Brighton for the summer?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Lydia has written of little else, though rumors were circulating before I came to Derbyshire.”
“Well, they have since departed,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Before they left, Lydia received an invitation from the colonel’s wife to accompany her there.”
Elizabeth looked at her father with consternation. Since he spoke of Lydia’s presence at Longbourn, Elizabeth was reassured that he had not allowed her to go. But the mere thought of Lydia in Brighton, where she could flirt and carry on and ruin them all with naught but the colonel’s wife to check her—a woman as silly and ungovernable as Lydia herself—was enough to fill her with disquiet.
“I see from your expression that you are horrified by the mere thought,” said her father with a chuckle. “I will own that my first instinct was to allow it.”
“Oh, Papa!” exclaimed Elizabeth, but her father only chuckled.
“As you will have guessed, I did not allow it, and I resisted all of Lydia’s tantrums and wailings. Not only would her behavior have been beyond redemption among all those soldiers, but I thought I detected a hint of interest from Wickham in your sister, and it made me uncomfortable. Had Lydia gone, Kitty would have been left to her own devices, and with no other sisters to remain with her, I did not think it was fair for Lydia to have fun while Kitty was left alone.” Her father paused. “I did not inform Lydia of the role Kitty played in my decision, for I am certain you will apprehend Kitty would have received the bulk of the blame.”
“I am sure that is an understatement,” murmured Elizabeth.
“Your sister, needless to say, did not agree with me. It was her constant complaints and outbursts which convinced me that she has no business being out of the schoolroom.”
“And Mama?” asked Elizabeth. “I cannot think that she was sanguine about your decision either.”
“She was not, at first. But I took her aside and spoke with her quite firmly about the reality of Lydia’s behavior. Furthermore, I spoke of our connection with the Bingleys and your sister’s distance since her marriage. Though I do not know all of Jane’s reasons, the thought of two unruly and undisciplined sisters and how they might embarrass her in public may be part of her thoughts. If nothing else, I am certain Miss Bingley understands and does not appreciate the connection.
“I explained these things to your mother and spoke of how Lydia and Kitty must improve before they can be introduced to any of Mr. Bingley’s rich friends.” Mr. Bennet laughed. “Your mother has high hopes of marrying Lydia and Kitty off to wealthy men, introduced to them by your new brother.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Did Mama not make those same comments at Mr. Bingley’s ball, in a loud voice no one could possibly have missed?”
“Indeed, she did. I also informed her that her words were not appreciated and that she should be more circumspect in the future. When she wailed about her actions possibly being what has driven Jane away from the family, I pointed out to her that was precisely the behavior someone of high society would find objectionable. She was very thoughtful for the rest of the day.
“So, you see, the changes we have instituted in Lydia’s life have not been against your mother’s wishes—quite the opposite, in fact, once she understood the need for them.”
“And how is Lydia taking them?” asked Elizabeth.”
“About as well as you might expect,” replied her father. “But I will own that I have noticed some small improvements in the days before I left, though I do not expect that such changes will be wrought overnight. Kitty is a little better, especially once I pointed out to her that she would do better emulating you or Jane, or even her Aunt Gardiner.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I will not say that I am not happy that you have made these changes, though Lydia’s improvement will be slow. I pity Aunt Gardiner for being forced to put up with her ill humors while you are away.”
Though Elizabeth would have expected commiseration, Mr. Bennet only chuckled again. “You do not think I would have left your aunt if I expected Lydia to give her any trouble, do you? In fact, Lydia has always been more than a little intimidated by your aunt, and she listens to her better than she listens to me.”
>
Surprised by his assertion, Elizabeth giggled at the thought of fearless Lydia being cowed by her mild-mannered aunt. But then she thought of the woman in question, and she remembered that Mrs. Gardiner was capable of being stern when required. More than that, however, Elizabeth suspected that Lydia was intimidated by her aunt’s comportment, which was beyond reproach.
“Then perhaps some good will come of it,” said Elizabeth. “If she had gone on in that manner much longer, she might have ruined us all.”
“When I left, your aunt was speaking to her of London society, and the delights she might savor there. For the first time in her life, Lydia is being forced to think of something beyond her immediate gratification. There is some hope yet.”
The conversation had been exhausted, and though Elizabeth was happy to hear that her sisters had been taken in hand and taught to behave, of more immediate concern was the reason for her father’s presence, and she did not mean to allow him to put it off any longer.
“I can see you are impatient,” said Mr. Bennet before she could say anything. “I suppose my coming must have been a shock.”
“It is, Papa, and I can hardly account for it. Surely you did not mean to come here to inform me of the changes you made at Longbourn.”
“No, you are correct.” Mr. Bennet stopped walking and turned to speak directly to her. “In fact, my reasons for coming here are twofold. First, you told me enough of your doings here to provoke my interest, particularly your friendship with a young man of the area and his sister?”
Her father’s raised eyebrow prompted a blush. Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I thought so. In fact, given what you have said of him, I expect he has, at the least, already asked for a courtship. Am I correct?”
“You are,” replied Elizabeth quietly, feeling unequal to answering her father’s teasing.
“And?” It appeared her father was not about to let her get away so easily.
“He has proposed, Papa. And I have accepted him.”