To have Darcy come into this scene was more than she could bear. She ran to the door before anyone else could respond and opened it a bit breathlessly. Mr. Darcy blinked in surprise and smiled. “Good morning.”
“Oh, don’t come in, let’s go out,” she said, grabbing her shawl from the table. He followed her without murmur around the front of the house to the little wilderness off to the side.
“You are distressed,” he said directly when they reached there. She wrung her hands slightly. “Have I done something to offend you? Or is it Lady Catherine that still disturbs you? If I could make amends to you, Elizabeth, for—”
“No, no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “You have done nothing. It is my family!”
That her family should distress her he could not find surprising, but he did not like to see her so upset. He took one of her hands and drew it reassuringly through his arm, bringing her to a sedate walk beside him. “What has happened?”
“It is Lydia!” she exclaimed before she could check herself. “That foolish girl has been invited to spend the summer in Brighton with Mrs. Forster, and my father will not do anything to stop her. I tried to plead our wedding as an excuse, and my mother would have agreed if he had but lent his support, but instead he said she should go, just so that he won’t have to hear her complaints on the subject! It will ruin her; I know that it will!” She stopped, shocked at her own unguarded speech.
But Darcy seemed far from taking the confidence amiss. He frowned slightly, his hand still over hers on his arm. “Mrs. Forster is Colonel Forster’s wife, I take it.”
“Yes. She is a very young woman still, and not very wise, I’m afraid. Witness her friendship with Lydia!”
“And you say that your mother thought she should remain at home?” He could not keep the surprise out of his voice.
Elizabeth flushed a bit. “Her preference would be for Lydia to travel to Brighton after the wedding, but I think she would have resigned herself. She did not want to offend you or your family by not having such a close family member present.”
“Do you think your father might be persuaded to change his mind?”
“I have tried but to no avail. It is always so with him. He perceives her foolishness perfectly but will do nothing to check it.”
His grave, thoughtful aspect increased. “Will you allow me to speak to him?”
She looked startled. “You?”
“Certainly. Do you think I have no concern in this? Your family must be mine now.”
Now her blush became painful, her tone just faintly resentful. “I am sorry. I know it must be mortifying to you. Your sister would never behave so.”
His mouth twisted ruefully. “Nevertheless, I wish very much to be of use to you in this instance. Will you permit me to try what I can achieve?”
Elizabeth looked at him. She was simply unaccustomed to having a real champion of any sort, much less one so formidable. “If you could prevail upon my father to keep Lydia home this summer,” she said slowly, “I would be extremely grateful and relieved.”
“Let us go back to the house, then. I will speak to him immediately.”
As they walked the short distance back, Elizabeth wondered if this was what it would mean to be married to him—to have someone so willing to attend to her concerns and remove every difficulty at her request. The difficulties of the man himself were surely rather trivial compared with the services he was apparently ready to render her.
Mr. Bennet looked up as Darcy entered the library. “Well, Mr. Darcy! Good morning to you, sir! Have you come to seek refuge from the overexuberance of my youngest?”
Darcy frowned at this lighthearted disregard. “Not exactly. I have only seen Elizabeth as of yet.”
“Well I can hardly believe that you are seeking refuge from her! It must be some matter of business that brings you here today, then, for I dare not suppose you wish only for my congenial company.” It was well known throughout Longbourn that Mr. Darcy did not wish for anyone’s company but Elizabeth’s.
Seating himself opposite the other man, Darcy came straight to the point. “Sir, if you do not think it impertinent of me, I came to add my support to Elizabeth in asking you not to allow Miss Lydia to spend the summer in Brighton.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows rose. “Well, I can see it did not take her long to pour her complaints into your ear,” he said with some resentment.
“She was upset, Mr. Bennet, and with good reason, I think. It may be that you do not comprehend the evils that can come to a young lady in Miss Lydia’s position in a place like that.”
Mr. Bennet seemed to struggle between being amused and being seriously offended. “And may I ask, Mr. Darcy, what concern it is of yours where my daughter spends her summer?” he asked, glaring at him.
Darcy was not to be cowed. “I have two concerns,” he said evenly. “The first is that Miss Lydia will soon be my sister. Anything that affects her must unavoidably affect me and my own sister as well. The second is that I do not like to see Elizabeth’s peace of mind cut up as it is. For that reason alone I would try to persuade you.”
“Elizabeth is not your wife yet.”
“She is promised to me,” he replied implacably. “I told you when I applied for her hand that I would take care of her, and that is what I intend to do.”
“May I take it then that you are willing to keep Lydia with you for the summer?” Darcy pressed his lips together. “I thought not.” There was a tense silence, then Mr. Bennet decided to relent somewhat. “Really, Mr. Darcy, I do think you and Lizzy are making a great deal out of nothing. Lydia is a silly girl, that is true, but she will not be any less silly for my forcing her to stay home all summer. She’ll come to no real harm in Brighton.”
“I disagree.” Darcy stood up and took a few quick steps around the room. “Mr. Bennet, I know of a young woman who not long ago went to a fashionable seaside town without the company of her guardian. She was a quiet and demure girl, without Miss Lydia’s spirits, and even so she came very near disaster.”
Mr. Bennet looked at him shrewdly. “And you think the same fate will befall my daughter? I do not think she is beautiful enough or rich enough to be any man’s prey.”
“If she is willing, Mr. Bennet, that will be enough for some men.” As the other started in anger, he threw up a hand. “I do not mean to say that she would go knowingly to ruin, but she is too young to understand the purpose behind some men’s flattery or to distinguish between honorable and dishonorable intentions.”
“She will have Colonel Forster to protect her.”
“Not to disparage Colonel Forster, but I would not trust him to protect my sister.”
“Yet Lydia is not your sister, nor is she in your charge in any way!” Mr. Bennet was getting really angry now, as Darcy’s demands came into conflict with his indolence. “My word, sir,” he said testily, “if this is really so important to you, I would think you would offer me some help in the matter, or at least a proper incentive!”
Darcy went still and for several moments stared at the other man. “Very well,” he said at last, coldly. He came back, sat down, leaned back, and crossed his legs. “If you require more incentive than the happiness and respectability of your daughters, I will give it to you. Keep Lydia home from Brighton, Mr. Bennet, and I will add one thousand pounds to each of your daughters’ dowries.”
Mr. Bennet gaped at him. He had not actually meant what he said; it had been a petulant protest, no more. But Darcy had taken him perfectly seriously. His countenance held an equal measure of disdain and determination; he was coldly furious but committed to his purpose. Elizabeth’s father squirmed beneath his gaze; he felt chagrined and almost ashamed. “I do not want your money,” he said coldly himself. “Nor do you need to tell me that you consider me an irresponsible father; it is all too obvious! You need not shame me any further; although I feel such a measure is unnecessary, I will accede to your demand. You may tell Lizzy that she shall have all the felicity of Lyd
ia’s high spirits at your wedding. And do not blame me if she giggles through the ceremony!”
Darcy stood up and bowed. “I do not think you will regret it, Mr. Bennet. Miss Lydia will be much safer at home here, believe me.” They eyed each other in hostile silence, and he sighed. “I am sorry to have offended you, sir. I would not ordinarily attempt to tell any man how he should govern his children, but I cannot forget what happened to that lady I know. I could never forgive myself if harm came to your daughter because I did not give sufficient warning.”
Mr. Bennet stood. “I suppose the excesses of young lovers must be excused. Say that you acted to please my Lizzy, and I will have no further argument with you.”
He smiled. “Indeed, I do wish to please her. You cannot think I wish her to be anxious about anything at this time or during the first summer of our marriage. I share her concern for her sister and must do what I can to alleviate it.”
“Well, you have distinguished yourself today. I suggest you join her and enjoy whatever reward her charms may afford you.”
After Darcy left, Mr. Bennet looked thoughtfully at the chair he had lately occupied. For all his aggravation at being forced to do something he did not want—and Mr. Bennet rarely did anything he did not want—he had to respect Darcy and was glad at least to know that his dearest daughter had such a devoted suitor. If she could submit herself to his high-handed ways, she might be very happy.
Elizabeth was still waiting when Darcy came out. She had heard the rise and fall of their voices without being able to make any words out. It seemed impossible to her that anyone could rouse her father out of his determined apathy, nor could she imagine what her betrothed was saying to him. How was such a subject to be approached?
Seeing her nearby, he smiled. She thought it looked forced and studied him anxiously. “All is well,” he said softly. “She will stay.”
“Whatever did you say to him?” she asked wonderingly.
He shrugged dismissively. “Whatever seemed necessary.”
“And he was convinced?”
“Well enough. He agreed, in any case.”
She smiled at him. “I hope you will not regret your work when Lydia learns her fate. She will not accept it complaisantly.”
“Perhaps, but it cannot be helped.”
“How can I thank you?”
“You have no need. Believe me, I felt her safety from Brighton’s temptations to be as necessary for my family’s credit as it is for yours.”
He did have a way of putting an arrogant twist on the best of deeds! But Elizabeth was far too thankful for his interference to take exception this morning. So she exerted herself to be as charming as she could, with great effect. They were sitting in a quiet corner of the parlor, bantering agreeably over the characters in The Merchant of Venice, when Lydia was called out to see her father. Some minutes later she returned, entering the room like a miniature tempest. She went straight up to the couple. “I think you are the horridest man I ever met!” she declared passionately to Darcy.
“Lydia!” gasped Elizabeth.
“And you are—are—a traitor! I’ll never speak to you again!”
“Lydia, what do you mean by speaking to Mr. Darcy like that?” demanded Mrs. Bennet, alarmed.
“Papa says I shan’t go to Brighton after all, and I am sure that it is all their fault! They can’t bear for anyone to have any fun without them, either of them! They take pleasure in ruining my happiness! Oh, my heart is broken! It is completely broken, and I will never recover!” With this dramatic pronouncement she stormed out of the room, her mother following in her wake.
Kitty looked at them wide-eyed. “Lizzy,” she breathed, “did you persuade Papa to make her stay, just so she can be at your wedding?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I tried,” she said finally. “I would have if you had been invited, too, Kitty, not because of my wedding but because you are both too young to be going off there by yourselves.”
“Brighton may appear to be full of innocent diversions,” put in Darcy in his grave way, “but there are more dangers there than you could know, and it is not suitable for inexperienced girls to be there without the direct supervision of their guardians.”
It was clear from Kitty’s face what she thought of his words, but she was still too much in awe of Mr. Darcy to say anything to him. “Lizzy,” she said solemnly, “if I had been going to Brighton and you ruined it for me, I would never, ever, forgive you.”
“Never is a very long time, Kitty,” replied her sister quietly but unhappily. She felt Darcy’s eyes on her in concern and rallied up a smile for him. “Say what you will, sir, I will never be convinced that Jessica and Lorenzo’s marriage is doomed. True, they may have started poorly, but did they not simply do as circumstances forced them? No, they shall certainly not end up like Romeo and Juliet, no matter how disparate their situations!”
He allowed himself to be led back into their previous conversation, and nothing more was said about it between them, but that was hardly the end of the affair for the Bennet family. Quite soon Elizabeth had cause to wish that Lydia had actually fulfilled her threat of never speaking to her again, as her speech took the form of endless reproaches. The girl’s indignation and resentment knew no bounds, and, finding her father unmoving, she showered it upon her sister until that lady began looking more forward to Darcy’s arrival every day, for the chance of reprieve it offered.
Mr. Bennet, when next she had seen him, looked at her rather sourly. “Well, Lizzy, I hope you are pleased with yourself,” he said. “I must say I took it rather unkindly of you to send your bridegroom in here like a knight errant, with myself cast as the dragon.”
“You know it was not like that, Papa.”
“It certainly felt like that to me,” he muttered petulantly. “I can see that I have been replaced in your affections and esteem.”
Lizzy put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “No one will ever replace you in my affections,” she promised. But of the word esteem she said nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
Darcy was tired. Tired of Hertfordshire, tired of an empty Netherfield, tired of the Bennets. He was restless in the extreme, and even though town held no interest, he almost left to stay there until the wedding. At least then he would be able to see Georgiana and wouldn’t have to see his future family. But leaving Elizabeth seemed impossible. He felt—he was almost sure that her affection for him had increased since their engagement, though to what extent he could not tell, and he felt the nearness of their wedding date, which he himself had urged, pressing him to remain by her and attempt to win her before . . . before what? Before it was too late? It was already too late. They were both committed, in bonds scarcely easier to dissolve than marriage. Before the intimacy of marriage, then. Before the sacred vows. He wanted to see love in her eyes when she said them and to achieve that he had to be with her.
Besides, Elizabeth’s company calmed him. He could forget anything in the presence of her eyes and smiles. If he left her he would do nothing but brood—about his family, about her family, and most of all about her and her heart—that most desirable, most mysterious, most elusive of organs. He had been so confident at the beginning, certain that it was only his reserve and their lack of a proper courtship that were wanting. She had thought him above her, had failed to indulge the idea of loving him, but now that she knew, now that he was set firmly in place beside her as a suitor and lover and husband—now her affections would become like his. He was not so certain anymore though; he watched her with increasingly anxious feelings, feelings which only she could assuage. When he was with her, when he listened to her, touched her, he was reminded of what mattered: She was real. She was real, and she was his. At least he told himself that that was all that mattered.
The family was still at breakfast when he arrived at Longbourn that Friday morning. They made a rather pretty domestic picture, had he been inclined to appreciate it. At one end of the table sat Mr. Bennet, reading
his day-old paper. Three of his daughters were likewise reading as they munched their toast and sipped their tea—Mary a book, Jane and Elizabeth letters. Kitty and Lydia whispered to each other quietly. At the other end, Mrs. Bennet presided over all in her crisp white cap. She beamed when she saw the young man who substantially filled her doorway. “Why, Mr. Darcy! How good of you to join us so early today. Look, here is an open seat next to Elizabeth, and John will pour you a cup of coffee.” She gestured to the footman.
“No!—thank you,” he said rather hastily. Then he added a belated “Good morning.” He remained where he was, as if unwilling to step into the room. “Miss Elizabeth?”
“Hmm?” responded Elizabeth. She looked up and gave him an absent smile. “Oh, good morning!” Her eyes returned to the page. She was in the midst of a particularly amusing anecdote about one of her young cousins, written by her aunt.
Darcy waited for a moment. “Elizabeth?” he repeated.
Tearing her eyes from the page, she looked up again. Catching his pointed gaze, she looked back at her half-read letter, then at her half-drunk cup of tea. Suppressing a roll of her eyes, she folded the letter and tucked it away, then stood. “We shall be in the small parlor, I suppose, Mama.”
“Lizzy,” said Kitty, “you promised you would show me that new embroidery stitch Charlotte taught you.”
“Yes, I will. Later.”
Kitty’s always expressive face said that if she had to wait until Mr. Darcy left, she might not learn the stitch at all. Elizabeth gave her a sympathetic smile before leaving with Darcy.
They did indeed go to the small parlor, and sat down in the corner. “I noticed you were reading a letter. Do you wish to finish it?”
She gave him a rather bemused look. “No. I have put it away now. It shall keep.”
He seemed satisfied with that. “I have some news for you.”
“That sounds quite mysterious.”
“Not at all. Mr. Bingley is coming back to Netherfield.”
Elizabeth had just picked up some needlework but froze. “He is?”
Unequal Affections: A Pride and Prejudice Retelling Page 20