Suddenly Mrs. Darcy

by Jenetta James

  But the moment was broken by a shriek from behind me. I spun around and, seeing my mother, knew before she spoke the litany of possibilities playing about her mind. I could see in her expression and the manner in which she did not meet my eyes that the plot was hatching in her thoughts almost quicker than she could give it voice. I also knew that, once she had started, she would not be able to stop. “Elizabeth! Mr Darcy! You are kissing my daughter. What are you about? Whatever can you mean by this? Mary, find your father. Find Mr Bennet!”

  Mrs Long was close behind and, needing only seconds of preparation, was in hysterics as well. The salon, so quiet and peaceful a moment before, seemed suddenly to burst with unwanted and confusing sounds, women jostling, questions, and expressions of astonishment. For a moment, the horror of it struck me dumb. I forced myself to speak.

  “Mama, please, you are mistaken. Mr Darcy was not kissing me or doing anything untoward. We were talking.” I tried to speak to her quietly and directly, ignoring Mrs Long and the others who had appeared.

  “I saw him. I saw you. Do not contradict me, you foolish girl. Why would you protect him? You are mistaken if you think I will stand and watch while my daughter is taken advantage of. Certainly not! And you sell yourself cheap if you allow him liberties, Elizabeth. Where is Mr Bennet? Fetch Mr Bennet at once!”

  “Mama, please, there is no need for this. The light in here is poor. You have made a mistake.”

  I felt then the pressure of his hand on the small of my back and was silent. “I will speak with your father.” He did not look at me as he said this, and I did not look at him as he left the salon. Neither did I follow him, but I saw as he approached Papa and led him out of the ballroom. Mortification consumed me, and even Mama’s shrieking commentary was lost to my hearing. I longed for my sister Jane, but she was engaged, dancing with Mr Bingley.

  The time seemed to drain away, and I was in anguish at what was now passing between my father and Mr Darcy. At length, my father appeared and seemed almost to be reading from a script as he spoke. “Mrs Bennet, Elizabeth, there are to be no more scenes this evening. We shall not offend or surprise any of our neighbours if we leave this place in half an hour, and that is what we shall do. There is to be no discussion, and we shall leave quietly. I shall ask Jane to thank Miss Bingley, and apart from that, I would like you all to keep yourselves close. Quite enough has been broadcast as it is. I have asked Sir William to look after Mr Collins for the remainder of the ball, and he shall convey him to Longbourn when the Lucas family returns home to Lucas Lodge. I regret the need to impose myself on our neighbours in this way, but there it is.”

  My mother knew better than to contradict him in these rare moments of assertiveness. My mind was wracked with shame to think what Mr Darcy must have said. That gentleman I did not see and believed he must have left for his chambers or quit the country altogether in horror at my family’s behaviour. Although I disliked him, I could not help but be troubled by his having such proof of our unworthiness. For him to appear as we approached our carriage to leave was the last thing I expected, but appear he did. He nodded to Papa, handed me into the carriage first of all our family, and said in a whisper, “I shall call upon you in the morning.”

  There was nothing more, and I was mystified. The carriage ride home to Longbourn was a dreadful affair, and even my sister Lydia was too afraid of Papa’s expression to speak. As we neared home, Papa spoke again, hardly looking at us. “Mary, Kitty, Lydia, when we reach Longbourn, you may retire immediately, please. Mrs Bennet, I believe you and I must speak alone in my library. Lizzy, you will wait in the drawing room with Jane until I am ready to speak with you.”

  And so that was how it was. My younger sisters, almost teary with the abrupt end of their evening, were sent early to bed in confusion while Jane and I sat waiting, knowing little more of what was afoot. Eventually, Mama appeared and called us to Papa’s library. “Lizzy, Jane, come in and sit down. Well, Lizzy, I had not expected to part with you under these circumstances, and I am not proud to do so, but I am sure you see the necessity of it. You are fortunate that your young man appears to be reasonably honourable if not reasonably cautious in his behaviour.”

  Horror at the implications of his words overtook me, and I glanced around the room in panic, noting that Mama looked away. My temperature rose, and the books that lined the room seemed to leap from their shelves and dance before my eyes. “Papa, please stop. There has been an awful mistake. Mr Darcy is not my young man. He never has been.”

  “Elizabeth, if you are observed kissing a man in a public place, then I am afraid he is your young man, whatever you may protest.”

  “There was no kiss, Papa. None at all. Mr Darcy was talking to me. Mama, please, you must realise you were mistaken. That is how it looked to you, but it is not how it was. This is all so wrong. It is so mistaken.”

  “Lizzy, that is enough. Your mother observed you clearly, as I understand did Mrs Long and her daughters. It was plain enough, and you must realise all the families of our acquaintance will now know of this affair. Your Mr Darcy is willing to marry you, and in the circumstances, there is nothing else to be done.”

  My mind reeled with the words, and although I saw my sister Jane take my hand, I hardly felt it. After further conversation, which I cannot now recall, she helped me up the stairs to the bed we shared. The rest of the night was darkness.

  Chapter Two

  I would have sought out my mother in the morning, but I knew it would serve no purpose. A kind of fatalistic acceptance stole over me, and I awaited Mr Darcy’s call in silence. How the news of my situation spread around Longbourn, I know not, but at breakfast, everyone seemed to be aware of it. My sister Lydia, never quiet for long, celebrated her share of the advantage. “Well, now that you are to be married, Lizzy, you shall not keep Wickham to yourself any longer. It is just as well, as Kitty and I would like time with him. And you shall get into trouble if you leave Mr Darcy’s side!” she quipped, and she and Kitty dissolved into laughter. There was much more, but for the most part, I did not listen.

  When Mr Darcy did arrive, he tethered his horse and made straight for Papa’s library. He did not come to the drawing room where my mother, sisters, and I sat around like birds on a lawn, and however ashamed I felt, I was also affronted by his rudeness to us. Eventually, I was called to the library. “Lizzy, come in. Mr Darcy has asked to speak with you in private, and I have agreed. I am leaving the door open and do not expect it to be closed in my absence.” I gasped slightly, still unused to Papa’s new manner of addressing me, but he simply left without further ado, and I was forced to face my visitor. Mr Darcy paced the small room for a short time before turning to me and taking my hand purposely.

  “Miss Bennet, I hope you have slept well.”

  “No, I have not, sir. I am sure that you have not. What do you mean by taking responsibility for this situation? I hope you do not believe I would ever have insisted on anything.”

  He cut me off abruptly, squeezing my hand. “Miss Bennet, please do not distress yourself. The circumstances are what they are, and I have spoken with your father. I do not wish to speak of it further. I cannot rejoice in how this has come about, but I am an honourable man, and you should know I would not abandon you.”

  “But Mr Darcy you have been—you know you are—the victim of a mistake as to the facts. I am sure in time that this could be forgot and we would all be as we were. I—”

  “It would be as well to say no more about it. It is not as I would have wished, but there is nothing to be done. I do not wish for you to feel uneasy and I…I…you need have no fear of your future. Having said that, I do not wish to linger. The circumstances of our…engagement”—he seemed to chew over the word as though it were gristle in his meat—“are such that I wish to be married quickly and leave this place. I have discussed this with your father, and we have agreed I shall ride to London toda
y to obtain a special licence in order that we may be married next week.”

  “Next week!” I repeated with more feeling than civility.

  “Yes, next week. You understand, I am sure.”

  In horror, I did understand. I understood there was no escape from a union with this high-handed and disagreeable man, and the only advantage, though he loved me not, was that he appeared to wish me no ill. He assured me he would return as soon as may be, even that same day if the weather allowed. In my mind, I laughed at this suggestion, for I could bear his absence well enough. As it was, he kissed my hand, mounted his horse, and was gone.

  Time being short, it was resolved I should be wed in Jane’s best gown, which was the finest in the house. The next afternoon, I stood on a box in our chamber as Hill pinned the hem when Jane entered clutching a letter and looking about her. The letter was from Miss Bingley, and its message was that the whole party had quit Hertfordshire for town for a stay of indefinite length. Netherfield was shut up, and we knew not when it would be opened again. I could not help but think the circumstances of my engagement had somehow caused this. Jane, who had done no wrong, perched on the edge of our bed like a sparrow, and I felt wretched for her. Although we felt downcast, there was no time for self-pity since Kitty and Lydia roared up the stairs and into our chamber, crying out their news.

  “Lizzy! Lizzy! Mr Darcy is come; he is come… Or at least he is coming!”

  “Save your breath to cool your porridge, Kitty, I shall tell Lizzy! We have seen him. We have seen him, and we ran from Meryton to Longbourn to be assured of beating him. He rode his great horse into the village and looked very tired. He entered the inn! We watched him go in, and then we ran home. I bet you are glad we warned you that he was coming.”

  “For it would not do for him to find you in your shift!” added Kitty as they both collapsed laughing.

  He did not find me in my shift. By the time he arrived on his horse and looking grave, my sisters, my mother, and I were all sensibly dressed and sitting in the parlour. His short absence had given my spirits time to calm. I thought of Jane, my sisters, and the benefit my marriage might be to them if I could only make it so. But I was not yet used to the idea of him, and as he was announced and stalked into the room, my heart raced. He nodded acknowledgements to my family and said almost nothing. When I could bear the silence and awkwardness no longer, I suggested a walk to which he readily consented. Mary and Mr Collins accompanied us as chaperones, and gathering my bonnet, gloves, and spencer, I could hardly remove quickly enough from the house.

  I knew Mr Darcy was equally desirous of fresh air and escape, yet he said little until we had substantially outpaced my sister and cousin. “Miss Bennet, I am sorry to have been gone so long. I had hoped to obtain the licence and return within a day, but in the end I was forced to spend the night in town. I had no intention of leaving you alone for so long before our wedding.”

  “Our wedding. You speak so easily of it, but I hardly know anything of the event. Maybe you can tell me, sir, what you seem to have already decided.”

  Apparently not taking the meaning of my barb, he took my hand and squeezed it. “Yes, of course. I have the licence, and I thought Wednesday would be appropriate. I have spoken to the rector in Meryton, and it can be done. The ceremony will be simple, and we will depart from the church. The journey to Pemberley is at least two days, perhaps more.”

  “When am I to bid goodbye to my family and acquaintances, sir?”

  “I propose you do that before the service, Elizabeth. You know I do not wish to delay our departure.”

  “What of your family, sir? You have told me nothing of them or who shall be there.”

  “I have asked a cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, to stand up with me. Your introduction to the others will come later.”

  “A cousin? Nobody else? Not even your sister?” I had heard much of the superlative Miss Darcy, most of it from the lips of Miss Bingley. Mr Darcy’s sister, I had been told, was accomplishment itself, playing the pianoforte with excellence and acquitting herself without a hint of error. Mr Wickham had accused the young lady of pride, and in view of Miss Bingley’s approval and Mr Darcy’s tendencies, I could well believe it.

  “No. Georgiana cannot possibly come here. You will meet her soon enough, and I hope you will be happy with each other, but I would not bring her here.”

  I felt the flames of anger rise inside me and lick my face and hands. I could hardly control the fury within me and looked at our feet pacing the frozen ground. Finding my courage, I continued. “Are we not to expect Mr Bingley and his sisters?”

  “No. They are in town, and they do not expect to return for the wedding. I hope we will see them when we are in town, but they will not be here next week.”

  “I am shocked by that, sir. What can have called Mr Bingley away so urgently?”

  He hesitated, his grip on my hand slackening. “I do not know. Some matter of business that could not be delayed.”

  “I wonder, then, that his sisters travelled with him!”

  “Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst both prefer town.”

  “As they have made abundantly clear.” I saw a slight smile trace across his lips at this, and he stopped, taking my hand firmly again.

  “Elizabeth…I feel…I hope we have not made a bad start in knowing one another.” He had said my name for the first time, and I looked away, discomforted. “I did not mean to desert you so soon, and I do mean for you to know all of my family. But not here at Longbourn. My sister is young and gentle and not used to raucous company. Especially with the regiment here…well, it would be insupportable. I wish to take you home. I hope you comprehend that.”

  “I believe I do,” I said in spite of myself. For all of my resentments against him and the anger in my heart, I felt a warmth stirring within me for which I could not account.

  “Do you stay at Netherfield, sir?”

  “No, I am staying at the inn in Meryton.”

  “I hope you are comfortable there. It can hardly be what you are accustomed to.”

  “I am not such a princeling, Elizabeth. It is perfectly adequate, and it is not for long.”

  In the days that followed, we undertook a number of such walks with Mary and Mr Collins dawdling behind us. I will not say enjoyed because that would not be quite right. Mr Darcy took prodigious care of my comfort, handing me over stiles I could easily manage myself and guiding me around tree roots that never would have tripped me. At times, he was warm and almost caring. At other times, he was wounding in his arrogance and disdain for my position in life. It was made plain to me, for example, that none of my clothes were adequate for his wife, and upon reaching Pemberley, I would need to acquire a whole new wardrobe. It seemed to me he considered it to be my fault that there was no time for me to do this before I was married. In that moment, I felt wretched that he looked upon me and disapproved of what he saw. At other times, he fuelled my ire, and I wanted nothing more than to defy and infuriate him.

  Two days before our wedding, he observed me exchanging pleasantries with Mr. Wickham whilst out visiting with my sisters in Meryton. At the sight of Mr Darcy earnestly striding towards us, Mr Wickham bowed gracefully and departed, leaving me to face my betrothed.

  “Elizabeth, I must ask you do not bargain words with that man. I have said before that Mr Wickham is not worthy of your good opinion, and I meant it.”

  I flushed with the embarrassment of being chastised in the street and despised myself for being so in his power. It occurred to me how I might have responded to him were we not engaged to be married, and I could not but lament my lack of freedom to speak as I wished.

  “If you must direct me so, Mr Darcy—and I accept that it is your right to do so—will you not give me an explanation for your dictates?”

  “What explanation could you need, Elizabeth? If you trust
my judgement, then you are in need of no explanation.”

  “Well, if you trust my judgement, then why not confide in me? Mr Wickham appears to all the world as a respectable and pleasant gentleman. You do not like each other. That is clear. Since we are to be married, when you tell me not to speak to him, you know I must obey you. But you must allow me to be exceedingly perplexed by your attitude towards him. Or maybe you think it is not for me to ask questions or think on my own account?”

  He took a sharp breath and slowed his pace, looking down at the frozen ground. “I do not—That is not what I think.” Not looking at me, he continued. “I will tell you about Wickham, but would you allow it to wait? I do not wish to pass my engagement discussing him, and there will be time enough later. If you trust me now, I will explain later. Are we agreed?”

  I pondered him and, not for the first time, was bewildered. He seemed to keep so much within himself and take pride in doing so. Nothing was said that had not been assessed and reassessed. No unaccounted for word seemed ever to pass his lips, and all about him was economized and deliberate. For myself, I was a talker. The tonic of good company and the unexpected turns in a long conversation with a willing partner—those were the things for me. I wondered how we should ever make a partnership: the strange, silent, controlled man and I.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived only the day before our wedding day. Anxious though I had been to meet Mr Darcy’s cousin, it was immediately apparent that he was easy and charming where my betrothed was difficult and taciturn. Conversation became a great deal easier, and Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied us on our final chaperoned walk before marriage. He spoke of things that Mr Darcy had never mentioned: of Miss Georgiana’s shyness, trusted servants, and family traditions. He informed me that Lady Catherine de Bourgh, of whom my cousin Mr Collins spoke so oft, was Mr Darcy’s aunt.