Immediately his expression darkened, and he turned away again. Confused, Elizabeth waited for an explanation. “I see what you say, Lizzy,” he said at last, as he sank tiredly into a chair. “It is my fault you feel you must accept him.” Shocked, his daughter opened her mouth to object, but he waved her down. “If I had practiced economy—if I had made an effort, from the time of my marriage, to save money against the future so that you and your sisters had dowries—then you would not even contemplate marriage with a man you admit you do not love.”
Elizabeth turned pale and sat silent. It had never occurred to her that her father might place such a complexion on her acceptance of Mr. Darcy, and yet how could she deny its truth? It was true, but she could not bear to see the look of self-recrimination, so unusual for him, on her beloved father’s face. “I do not think many women would lament the necessity of marrying a man like Mr. Darcy,” she said at last with a rather weak smile.
“But you are not many women, Lizzy. You know you are not. You hated Mr. Darcy very heartily when you went away to Kent, and however your opinion of him may have improved in some matters, I can scarcely imagine that he was so altered that your opinion of his manners changed so very much. One can respect a man with a good character and bad manners, but not so easily love him—especially not a woman like you. You are lively and passionate and outspoken. Could you submit to one such as him without bitterness, without resentment?”
“Mr. Darcy likes the fact that I am lively and passionate and outspoken,” she replied with perfect truth. “I have certainly never been otherwise with him, and he fell in love with me so. I do not imagine he will want me to change when we are married.”
“A man may admire in a woman he is pursuing what he does not wish for from his wife.”
What bothered Elizabeth most was that she had no real answers to his questions. For all she knew, he might be right. From knowing Darcy’s kindness to his sister, she had no fear that he would ever mistreat her, but it might be that in time the charm of her impertinence would wear off or that once they were married, he would expect his wife to behave more submissively than she was wont to do. But it may be that she would wind up lonely and bitter and poor if she did not marry him. And when she considered the benefit to her sisters in her marrying, the issue seemed decided. “I do not know the future,” she said quietly, “but I know the choice that is set before me now, and I cannot but feel that, with all he has to recommend his suit, choosing Mr. Darcy is wiser than not choosing him.”
Her father was silent.
“Will you give me your consent?”
“Yes, if you are determined to have him.” He made an attempt to smile. “Was your young man planning on coming to ask my consent as well, or did he rely on you to do the office in his stead?”
“He is coming from London tomorrow. He would have come today if business had not detained him. I thought it just as well, as I wished to speak to you myself first.”
He gave a weak chuckle. “I cannot deny I would have been more than a little shocked if he had just suddenly shown up and demanded your hand.”
“That’s what I told him.” She smiled back in an attempt at levity. “I know you quite well, too, you know.”
Although the worst was over now that her father knew and had given his consent, Elizabeth was still rather downcast and agitated the next day. Until the truth was out and all initial reactions were past, she did not think she would be calm again. She had gone too far to turn back now, nor did she really wish to, but she did wish to have all this stage of things over and done with. If only she could undo a little of the past! If only she could take back her many unkind comments about Mr. Darcy; if only she could practice a retroactive moderation. It would all be so much easier now.
It was the Bennet ladies’ usual morning to receive callers, and callers were not wanting. Chief among them were officers Denny and Wickham.
Elizabeth’s reaction at seeing her old friend was mixed. She had rather been hoping to avoid him; her position with him was awkward indeed! Since coming to know Darcy better, she had become more aware than ever that Wickham’s story might not be all it had seemed, and she was painfully aware herself that her loyalty now lay with the former gentleman. It seemed almost a betrayal of him to even talk to someone he had so obviously cut, and yet she had no definite reason to think badly of him. Nor could she explain herself to him.
She had forgotten how handsome he was, how blue his eyes, and how fine his form. His step was firm and his shoulders thrown back as he entered the room; his quick, manly laugh rang out gaily. With a sort of helpless fascination Elizabeth watched his progress across the room, how he charmed her mother with a few words, teased the younger girls lightly, exchanged grave greetings with Mary, and bent gracefully over Jane’s hand before turning to her. She could not help but admire him.
“Miss Elizabeth, it is such a pleasure to see you again at last,” he said warmly, seating himself next to her. She replied in some confusion, and he raised his eyebrows. “Come, what’s this?” he asked. “Surely I have not lost your friendship while you were away?”
Since that was not a question she knew how to answer, she could only rally her composure and reply lightly, “I have not been gone so very long, have I?”
“Well, for your friends at home it has seemed like a long time. How did you enjoy Kent?”
“It was very beautiful.”
“And your friend Mrs. Collins? Is she well settled in her new home?”
“Very well indeed. She seems entirely satisfied with her situation, for which I do not know whether to praise or censure her. I could never be content living with such a man and such a patroness!”
He laughed. “Ah, Lady Catherine de Bourgh! Tell me, is she not exactly as I described her?”
“Yes, exactly.” She was grateful to have a safe subject. “I am rather sorry for her daughter, though. The vagaries of living with a mother like mine could be nothing compared with living with hers, especially as her health is so bad.”
“You are right as always, but remember that she has ample compensation for her situation in the wealth she is to inherit as well as the promise of a wealthy husband in her cousin Darcy.”
But Darcy was one subject she was not willing to discuss with him, and she remarked instead, “Oh, but do you truly think that tyranny and sickness can be compensated for by mere wealth? I think Miss de Bourgh does not have half so much pleasure in life as I do, despite her wealth—nor half so much freedom.”
“Perhaps,” he acknowledged, “but that is because she is a woman. Even wealthy women have constraints on them, but a wealthy man can go anywhere and do anything he likes. He is above all beings in the world the most free.” He smiled at her wryly. “I? I am at the disposal of my regiment. I must go where I’m sent and do as I’m told.” He sighed. “To be at the disposal of the church was all the constraint I ever wished for.”
This seemed to be heading back towards dangerous ground. “I hear the regiment is to move out to Brighton very soon. I am sure you must all be glad at the prospect of some greater entertainment than we have been able to provide you here.”
“Why, no, indeed.” He reached out and placed his hand lightly over hers. “Some of us are quite unhappy at the move. I cannot imagine any society in Brighton that will be half so pleasant to me as the society I have had here—or had, at least, before you went away.” Her cheeks burning, Elizabeth pulled her hand back. Had she allowed him such familiarities in the past? She could not recall. When she left for Kent, Mr. Wickham had still been paying court to Miss King. Was he seriously intending to resume a flirtation with her again, as if nothing had happened?
But Wickham seemed to sense that he had overstepped himself. He immediately retreated to a merely friendly manner and proceeded to make conversation on a number of neutral subjects. His mind was not so well informed as Colonel Fitzwilliam’s had been, but he exhibited all his old charm and ease of manner, and when they had finished talking, he w
ent about the room being so agreeable to everybody that she felt she could not be out of charity with him. Whatever had happened between him and Darcy in the past, she could not join in the quarrel. Obviously Mr. Wickham wasn’t the perfect authority on the Darcy family he claimed to be, or he would never have characterized Miss Darcy as proud, nor would he be so certain that Mr. Darcy intended to marry his cousin (though how true that might have been in past years she had no way of knowing), but she could not think him bad. Bitter, perhaps, over something he felt himself to have been wronged in, and a little too free in airing his complaints, but still a man she would have been glad to consider a friend had he not been divided by past events from the man she was to marry.
When the last of the morning callers had left, Elizabeth drew her mother apart. With Darcy due to call at any time, she could delay her announcement no longer.
“Well, Lizzy, what is it?” asked Mrs. Bennet irritably. “I cannot imagine what you could have to tell me that the others may not hear. It’s not as though you have received any more offers of marriage, nor can you expect to after refusing such a good match as Mr. Co—”
“But I have,” blurted out Lizzy.
“What?”
“I have received an offer of marriage.”
Mrs. Bennet sat up straight. “Well, why did you not say so at once?! When did this happen? Who is it? It’s not old Mr. Burrell, is it? For I have often thought that he had his eye on you, although I feared he was too old to wish to be married now, but you never know with these bachelors—”
“It’s not Mr. Burrell! It happened while I was in Kent.”
“Why, was he one of Lady Catherine’s acquaintances? Is he a wealthy gentleman? A man of property? Do say it wasn’t one of the farmers, Lizzy!”
Elizabeth felt her exasperation rising. “No, Mama. It was Mr. Darcy.”
Mrs. Bennet stared, opened her mouth, shut it again, and said rather faintly, “Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes, Mama. You remember Mr. Darcy? Mr. Bingley’s friend. The one with . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Ten thousand a year,” breathed her mother.
How much she hated that being the first thing anyone thought about him! “Yes.” She shut her eyes, waiting for the flood.
For about two full minutes Mrs. Bennet sat and stared into space. Then she drew in a deep breath and clasped her hands to her bosom. “We are saved!” she cried. “Oh, Lizzy, you clever girl, you have saved us all! Ten thousand a year! Just think of what pin money you’ll have! What jewels, what carriages! Oh!” She rose up and ran from the room. “Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet! Lizzy has got a rich husband! Such a rich husband! Dear Mr. Darcy! Mr. Bennet, your daughters are saved! You may die as soon as you please now!”
The wonder that Elizabeth’s sisters experienced in learning this information, and her discomfort in telling it, may well be imagined. Disbelief appeared to be the first prominent emotion. “Well, la, why should he want you, Lizzy?” asked Lydia tactlessly.
“Lydia!” said Jane reproachfully. “Mr. Darcy is very attached to Lizzy!”
“Attached? A stiff, disagreeable man like him?”
“Lydia!” exclaimed both sisters together.
“Well, why shouldn’t I say such things? It’s perfectly true—you know it is, Lizzy! You said he was the proudest, most unpleasant man you had ever met! I heard you!”
“Yes, but I was wrong!” said Elizabeth, vexed and embarrassed. “I should never have said it, and it is not right anyway.”
“You say that now because you have to, but I know you’re only marrying him because he’s so rich. I don’t think I could do it no matter how much money he had, but I’m very glad you are, because now you can buy us such nice presents and take us around in your carriage. I daresay living with him will be very dull, but I’ll come visit you and make you merry again!”
“Me too!” put in Kitty. “I want to come visit you, too, and it should be my turn first because I’m old enough to be presented to London society, and Lydia’s not!”
“Shall you meet many lords when you’re Mrs. Darcy? Gracious!—can’t you just see me, flirting with a viscount?”
Elizabeth could see and shuddered.
“Young women who award their favors too easily do not appear to advantage to men in search of a companion to share their lives,” observed Mary primly.
“Truly, I am not marrying Mr. Darcy for his money, Lydia! I would be ashamed to marry for such a reason.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him! I’d die laughing at the thought! You perfectly hated him until he proposed, you can’t say you did not. And as for poor Wickham, I can’t imagine what he’ll say when he hears that you’ve deserted him for Mr. Darcy, who was so cruel to him.”
“We must not speak of it,” urged Jane, seeing Elizabeth’s distress. “We don’t know what truly went on between them, but Mr. Darcy showed himself truly the gentleman this last week in town. I cannot believe him capable of behaving so dishonorably. Mr. Bingley wouldn’t be his friend if he were.”
“To judge without knowing all the facts is to expose the most keen understanding to the follies of a lesser mind. I have often observed in my reading that those who form opinions quickly do so not based on a preponderance of evidence but on impressions formed by passion and passing appearance. I also think that the truism ‘appearances are deceiving’ is one that deserves serious acceptance, not less because of its frequency of repetition.”
“How did he propose to you, Lizzy?” Here it was Kitty again. “Did he go down on his knees?”
Lydia giggled. “Imagine Mr. Darcy on his knees! I’m amazed you did not burst out laughing. I would have.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“Oh, heavens, just think of having to kiss him! I’ve been kissed ever so many times, but by much nicer men than Mr. Darcy. I wouldn’t kiss him for the world!”
“Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary in unison.
“Well, I wouldn’t,” she said defensively.
“You should not allow any man to kiss you!” said Elizabeth. “Who were these men, who took advantage of you like that?”
“As if I’d tell you! I’ll just say this: They wore red coats and were ever so handsome and agreeable.”
“I’ve never had a man ask to kiss me!” complained Kitty.
“For which you may give thanks! Now that is enough, both of you!” scolded Elizabeth. “No matter what you think of it, Mr. Darcy is to be my husband and your brother, so you had best keep a civil tongue in your head about him. He is not accustomed to listening to such feather-brained flirts as you both are, and I shall be quite ashamed to call you my sisters if you speak this way in front of him.”
“My dear sisters,” entreated Jane in her much softer way, “I am persuaded that you would not wish to give Lizzy pain. Mr. Darcy is a very respectable man, and he means to take care of all of us after Mama dies, which to me proves that he has a good nature. I am sure that you will all grow to like him if you will give him the opportunity to show how amiable he can be.”
Elizabeth could not second this optimistic prophecy, but she spent some more minutes entreating her youngest sisters to behave with propriety around her betrothed. Since these admonishments were received with perfect unconcern, by Lydia in particular, she had little confidence of their success.
Chapter Nine
It was raining when Mr. Darcy’s coach pulled up outside of Netherfield. Having been caught in a sudden downpour while riding horseback, he was already grumpy, and the curious gaze of Bingley’s staff did not improve matters. Miss Bingley had managed to call again the previous morning, dripping more polite insinuations. He had shrugged her off contemptuously, but it could not be denied that part of him—that part that had insisted on describing his misgivings so thoroughly during the proposal—squirmed beneath its haughty exterior. Although anxious to see Elizabeth again, he was impatient of his duty in calling on Mr. Bennet and not altogether happy to be there. He had few
fond memories of Hertfordshire society and deplored the engagement period to come as a necessary evil.
Within an hour Mr. Darcy had changed clothes and eaten a light meal and was presenting his card at Longbourn. He was shown very quickly into the library, where Mr. Bennet sat deep in an arm chair, reading a book. He lowered the book when Darcy entered, surveyed him through his glasses for a moment, then, as if reluctantly, set it aside and rose to greet him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Bennet.”
He gestured vaguely to the other chair as he resumed his seat. “Come and rest yourself, sir.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Darcy did as he was bid and began with polite inquiries after Mr. Bennet’s health and that of the family, but the older man cut him short. “Let us not waste your youth with civilities, sir; let us get right to the point. I understand you have come here with the intent to take my favorite daughter from me.”
“That is my desire, sir,” he replied.
“Well, then.” He folded his hands and looked at Darcy pointedly.
Taken aback, it took Darcy a moment to gather himself and say, “Mr. Bennet, do I have your permission to marry your daughter Elizabeth?”
“Yes.” He picked up his book again and appeared to lose himself in reading immediately.
Surprised and not a little offended by such abruptness, Darcy stared at him for several moments. “Thank you, sir,” he said at first. Then, as no more than a nod was forthcoming, he reaching hesitantly into his pocket. “I have here the marriage settlement papers I had my solicitor draw up, if you would care to see them.”
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