“Then, are you looking for a great reader who would appreciate your library and wish to spend time here with you, or would you instead prefer one who never picks up a book and would be certain to leave you here in peace?” Elizabeth asked with a hopeful smile.
“Ah, Lizzy, an important question indeed,” he replied, glad his daughter had managed to break the somber mood with some much-needed wit. Jane looked incapable of speech at the moment, but that was not unexpected given her tender heart. If he could find a woman with Jane’s heart and Lizzy’s wit and intellect, he would consider himself a very blessed man indeed. “I believe I will defer an answer, as I would require additional information about any lady in question.”
Elizabeth appeared pleased with his response and continued. “So, you need a sensible woman, capable of laughter, who will not mind joining a home with five daughters, and furthermore, is willing and able to corral the high spirits of the youngest. Does that cover your requirements, Sir?”
“Ah, but she must also be young and healthy enough to bear children, yet not so young that your sisters would disregard her instruction.” Mr. Bennet continued, deliberately adding a playful note to his voice, grateful to be able to continue the conversation in a lighter tone.
“An heiress would be preferable, though I suppose one cannot be too choosy,” Elizabeth responded and tapped a finger to her chin. Quite the actress, his Lizzy. And a heart just as big as Jane’s, he must remember, though she displayed hers differently. He shook his head with a small smile, amazed his little girl had managed to put him at ease during the most difficult conversation he could remember having with her.
“Any heiress willing to take on this job description would lack the sensibility required to be a successful candidate,” Mr. Bennet countered. “No, I believe we will be looking for someone without any better options.” He paused and again became serious.
“Knowing Longbourn is entailed and I’m in poor position to provide for a widow, a sensible woman would put out her cap for Mr. Collins as a better option. I would not expect many applicants for the position of my wife.”
“Papa, any woman who would choose Mr. Collins over you has not the sense you are seeking,” Elizabeth responded.
“True, true, Lizzy,” he nodded. “The key to the entire situation being choice, I’d best look for a lady who has few options left to her.”
“Do you intend to take out an advert in the paper?” Elizabeth asked, obviously hoping to bring back some of the levity he had put aside.
“No, I have a lady in mind already.” Mr. Bennet once again shifted his gaze away from them to the window. He could not face them now. Whatever their response, he was sure he did not wish to see the initial shock. He was waiting again, delaying when he should act. He knew what needed to be said, but could not bring himself to speak.
“Who is she?”
“Miss Lucas.” He held his position, hearing the soft gasps behind him. Jane would likely have schooled her countenance much better than Elizabeth. Elizabeth was far too open with her feelings, especially with her father, to have been able to conceal her surprise well.
“Charlotte?” He could hear the shock in Elizabeth’s voice.
“You understand now why I wished to speak to you both. My first concern is your wellbeing and happiness. I understand having your friend become your step-mother would be awkward in the least, which is why I wished your input. I would not put you in an untenable situation.”
Silence followed, but he dared not look at his daughters. Finding Lizzy incapable of speech would be amusing in any other situation, but he was not in a position to be amused.
“Why Charlotte?” Jane eventually asked.
“I have always been fond of Miss Lucas,” he turned to Elizabeth and emphasized, “as your friend. Do not think I have any romantic inclinations in her direction.” Mr. Bennet most certainly did not want his daughters to believe he had held a tendre for their friend, and he absolutely did not want them to believe such feelings existed prior to their mother’s death. In truth, he had not considered ever marrying again. No woman had turned his head or touched his heart in that way since he married Fanny Gardiner twenty-three years ago.
Certain his daughters understood and believed him, Mr. Bennet turned back to the window, better able to discuss the subject with his daughters if he did not have to look at them.
“I have always found Miss Lucas to be extremely sensible, yet able to tolerate, and occasionally even appreciate, the absurdity around her. Given the personalities of her parents, I sometimes wondered if she were a changeling left behind after their own vapid child was spirited away. She has been a good friend to you, Lizzy, and I have found myself benignly concerned for her future for some time. If good sense were valued as highly as a pretty face, she would have been married long before now, but her chances of marrying decrease as each year passes.
“Most important of my considerations, I need a lady who would see to your welfare as best she can. Even if I do have an heir, I am unlikely to live long enough to see him reach his majority. In such a case, my widow would have a great deal of power over how well you would be cared for while the child is young, and great influence over how the boy would view his responsibilities to you once he did reach his majority. As your friend, I trust that Miss Lucas would not ill-use you or your sisters.”
He turned back to face his daughters. “If you know of any attachment she has to another or any possibility of making a marriage of her own choosing, tell me now and I will speak no further on the subject.” He paused and watched both his daughters glance to each other before slightly shaking their heads. “I thought not,” he said, returning to his window. “I hate to see a good lady end up an old maid because the young bucks do not know enough to value the right qualities in a potential bride.”
Despite his daughters’ apparent calm and acceptance, Mr. Bennet felt anxious. His girls would certainly face gossip due to his choice. He knew they could rise above any talk, but the idea of his being the cause of their discomfort bothered him greatly.
In a fit of agitation, he walked back to his desk and turned his back on his daughters completely. “I feel a lecherous old goat to be considering a lady hardly older than my own daughters, but there is nothing to be done about it if I am to have an heir. If I must marry, I refuse to tie myself to a silly girl better suited to be a playmate for Lydia and Kitty than a step-mother to them. I have known Miss Lucas for some time, so I doubt I would find any surprises in her character or understanding after we wed. I believe we would be suitable.”
He again faced his daughters and walked back to sit with them. “I would not suggest this if I believed her to have a better choice than an old man with an entailed estate, and I am relying upon you to help ensure I would not disrupt any other chances she may have. Even without an heir, she would be no worse off as my widow. We may get enough of a settlement out of Sir William to provide a comfortable, if modest, living, and her social standing as a widow would be better than that of a spinster.” He reached for Jane and Elizabeth’s hands.
“I would not make you feel uncomfortable in your own home, but I would also not wish to injure Miss Lucas by assuming a greater discomfort on your part than you may feel and dismissing her from consideration out of hand.”
He squeezed his daughters’ hands and shook his head to silence them when they both started to speak. “I do not expect an answer now, nay, I do not wish you to answer right now. I want you to think on the matter and discuss this with each other to determine your feelings. I know this has come as a great surprise to you, and any response you have at this moment may not reflect your feelings once you have had more time to truly consider all of the implications.
“I assure you, it will not wound me to look to another. I only consider Miss Lucas as I think we would suit each other. I would have some hope for intelligent conversation after the two of you have wed and left me, and at the same time I see a way to assist one who has been a good friend to
you both. She has more than proven herself capable of running our household over the past weeks. I am grateful for her ability to manage, but also for the care she has shown in offering so much of her time to us when we needed it.”
Mr. Bennet stood, still holding the girls’ hands so that they rose with him. “Now I fear I have used all the words at my disposal for today,” he said, attempting to add a touch of humor. “I am certainly not accustomed to such long speeches on such weighty topics. I must now beg to be left in peace and silence to recuperate,” he smiled to take away any sting from his dismissal.
“You have much to consider and I ask you to think carefully and be honest with me regarding your feelings.”
“We will, Papa,” Elizabeth responded.
He squeezed his favorite daughters’ hands once more and offered a weak smile, then walked them to the door. He watched them leave and closed the door behind them. He had been a poor husband and a poor father and as a result had endangered his daughters’ futures. He would do so no longer.
CHAPTER 11
Elizabeth walked to Oakham Mount. She needed time alone to sort through the tangled knots of her thoughts. She and Jane had spoken about their father’s plan and decided that they had no objection if Charlotte did not. Elizabeth was uneasy, but she thought it unlikely her friend would consider such an offer, so she tried not to worry unnecessarily.
Charlotte deserved love, and Elizabeth hoped she found it quickly. Time was not on Charlotte’s side and Elizabeth did not want to see her feel pressured into a match, most especially with Mr. Bennet.
Enough. Charlotte would make her decision, one way or the other. Elizabeth planned to speak to her and give her an idea of her father’s plan. She expected Charlotte would express her honor in being considered, but politely decline. Elizabeth would then be able to save her father the embarrassment of being rejected.
Her unease had less to do with Charlotte than it did her father. Elizabeth was well aware of the distance between her parents that had existed for as long as she could remember. Nevertheless, she disliked the idea of her father marrying again so soon. She could understand his reasoning and on a rational level she approved that he was making a plan and taking action to change.
On an emotional level, she felt betrayed on her mother’s behalf. Elizabeth knew it was ridiculous to object. Her mother was dead, and even in life she had not laid great claim to her father’s heart. Not within Elizabeth’s memory, at least. She remembered her father’s expression as he had spoken of loving her mother. Elizabeth had never really thought about it, but had assumed they must have liked each other once, but she had not thought of love.
Could love be so fleeting? No, Elizabeth could not believe they had really been in love. Her father had said they did not know each other well enough before their marriage, so it could not really have been love – at least not the way Elizabeth envisioned love.
Infatuated her father may have been, but not in love. Love could not occur without a thorough understanding of the other person. Her father had not really known her mother when they married. He never would have bound himself to someone so wholly unsuited to his own habits and outlook had he really known her.
Regardless of what the poets said, love was not blind. Love required extraordinary vision that could penetrate not only the mind, but the very soul of the other. Love was not blind to faults in another, it knew those faults intimately yet still chose to exist.
Could she find a man who would see her many faults and still choose to love her?
Elizabeth shook herself. She was mentally rambling again. The point was, her parents had not really loved one another, so she had no reason to resent her father for trying to secure his family’s future by remarrying.
Why was she so unsettled? Elizabeth snapped a twig off of a low hanging branch as she walked. Was this grief? Elizabeth had never lost someone so close to her, so she had no point of comparison. Did grief make everyone angry, or just her?
The twig slashed across the high grass next to her as she swung it. She was angry, but had little direction for her anger. She supposed she was angry her father wanted to remarry. She was angry her mother had died with such animosity between them. She was angry with herself that she could do nothing to fix the wrongs she had done nor comfort those now suffering with her.
She wanted to cry but had already cried too much. Action was what she needed. The cloud of anger and grief was suffocating and Elizabeth wished she could scream, or run until she was out of breath, or throw something. The last she could do without risking impropriety. No one was about.
Pulling her arm back, she threw the stick as far as she could down the path ahead of her. Not nearly far enough to make her feel better. She needed something heavier, a stone perhaps. Elizabeth looked around her feet until she found a good-sized stone. It was flat and round, about the length of her thumb, and had enough weight to it that it would fly, but not so much weight that she would not be able to send it far.
Elizabeth threw the rock into the woods as hard as she could. She felt a little better when she heard it rattle off of a tree. Perhaps she just needed more rocks.
Elizabeth bent over and began to search for the perfect stones when she became aware she was not alone. She closed her eyes in humiliation and prayed a friend had come upon her.
She stood up and turned around. God was apparently not in the mood for granting prayers today. Mr. Darcy walked the path towards her.
“Good day, Miss Elizabeth.”
He made no mention of seeing her throwing stones, but Elizabeth knew he had. His mouth was a grim line of disapproval. Why today of all days should he choose this path?
“Mr. Darcy,” she responded with a slight curtsey. She would not lie and say it was a good day. She also would not drop her head in shame at her behavior. If he wished to interrupt her private walk, then he would have to accept her lack of propriety as the cost.
“You should step forward with the opposite foot when you throw. Doing so will help you to achieve greater distance.”
Elizabeth fumed. How dare he.
“I thank you for your suggestion and shall take it under advisement. I had not realized you were an expert at everything.”
“Not everything, no.”
“Then thank you for deigning to share such expertise as you have with us mere mortals.”
He stepped back, obviously affronted, but Elizabeth did not care. Let him be offended, then they would be equals.
“Forgive my interference, Miss Elizabeth. It was kindly meant.”
“Of course it was,” Elizabeth snapped with a bitter laugh, “Because you are nothing if not kind.”
He looked confused. Perhaps Elizabeth was the first person to ever dare speak to him in such a manner. She knew she should stop and take her leave, but throwing a stick and a stone had not been nearly enough of a release to the pressure building inside her.
“I do not know what is the matter, but I do not appreciate your tone. Is something wrong?”
“Why should anything be wrong? You find me in the wilderness behaving like a hoyden and do not have the decency to even pretend ignorance of my impropriety. Instead you choose to mock me by pointing out my ineptitude. I should not be surprised, I know you lack the good manners to behave like a gentleman.” Elizabeth knew she was at a breaking point and needed to get away. He was the worst person to come upon her and had done so at the worst possible time.
“I do not know why you insist on insulting me. I attempted to put you at ease, given your embarrassment on being noticed flinging rocks at trees. I could scarcely pretend not to have noticed you. Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. I know you are grieving and grief will take you down many a strange path, but I would thank you not to take your frustrations out on me.”
“Yes, you know I am grieving,” she paced, still agitated and unable to stop herself from making a scene. “Though I suspect you think I should rejoice. After all, my mother’s impropriety was even worse t
han my own, was it not? I should be glad to avoid the future embarrassment, should I not?”
“You are giving me credit for words I have not spoken.” Mr. Darcy kept his words calm, but his temper was rising.
“No, you are correct and I apologize. While you may not be pleased with any of the company in Hertfordshire and think yourself above us all, even you would not have spoken such words within my hearing. However, I doubt your thoughts can claim such innocence.”
Mr. Darcy’s face grew red and Elizabeth knew she was correct.
“Perhaps you are crediting me with such thoughts due to the guilt you feel for thinking such a thing yourself.”
Elizabeth stepped back, feeling the heat drain from her face as her body froze in shock. Darcy looked away and collected himself.
“I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, that was uncalled for,” he said and took a deep breath. “You should also know,” he continued, turning back to her, “that if true, you should not feel guilty –”
“Because I would be correct?” she interrupted as her anger broke through the shock. The gall of the man! “Yes, I can see how you would think so. My mother will not make a scene in public anymore, she will not try to force me into a miserable marriage, she will not continually criticize me any longer. Certainly, I should not feel guilty she is dead, I should see it as a social boon. I had thought you cruel,” she spat at him as she began to tremble, “but you have outdone yourself today.”
“Cruel? What could you possibly think cruel of me?”
“Do not try to dissemble. I have known of your treatment of Mr. Wickham for some time now.” Mr. Wickham had suffered and she could now add the injustice done by Mr. Darcy to her reasons to be angry.
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