Caroline sat and plotted as the evening waned.
Downstairs, Darcy, Bingley and the Bennet sisters had agreed on a stroll in the gardens to shake off the tensions of such an extraordinary morning, prior to taking Bingley’s carriage back to Longbourn. Bingley and Jane wandered slowly, more interested in each other than in the winter gardens. Darcy and Elizabeth, both strong walkers, soon outpaced the lovebirds. Perhaps in a mutual desire to give their friends a little privacy for their wooing, and perhaps simply to keep the chill of the evening at bay, they walked briskly ahead.
When they rounded the corner of the house, Elizabeth realised that they were effectively alone. At first she blushed and worried for her reputation, but then her mind returned to the problem she had been trying to solve when Jane first interrupted her this morning. Here was an eligible gentleman – disagreeable to be sure, but by all measures more tolerable than Mr Collins – and if she were to stage a compromise, she might secure his hand and avoid marriage with her cousin. It was an outrageous and dangerous gambit, but she really had no other options, and nothing to lose. Steeling her nerve, Elizabeth tripped, and stumbled heavily against Mr Darcy, who reflexively grasped her in his arms to prevent her fall. Both were soon righted, and Darcy immediately released her arms, stepping a proper distance away.
“Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked?
She looked up at him a little sheepishly. For all her native impertinence, demanding recompense from an innocent man was not among her talents. As he had not immediately made the offer, she was unsure how to go about pressing him for his hand in marriage. For a moment she tried to imagine how Miss Bingley would go about the task. She was sure it would involve much batting of eyelashes and at least a ripped bodice. The thought made her laugh. She quickly sobered as she realised she was not willing to carry her plan through. Proud and arrogant though he was, Mr Darcy deserved better than to be compromised.
“I thank you sir, I am well. It was a momentary weakness, but it has passed.”
“Are you prone to fainting spells, Miss Bennet?” he asked. She had struck him as a remarkably robust young woman, and such a weakness seemed unlikely.
She coloured and looked at the ground. “No indeed. I have never fainted, nor swooned. I walk often, and am not known for tripping, especially on such a level path as this. It was a weakness of the mind, not the body, that I referred to.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he said, somewhat confused by this distinction. It was definitely her body that had virtually catapulted into his arms.
She blushed even more brightly and said “You have caught me, sir. Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence, so I will confess my sin. But I beg of you, whatever you think of me when you hear the truth, do not judge my sister harshly for my folly – Jane would blush for me if she knew what I had done.”
Darcy kindly refrained from pointing out that Miss Elizabeth was blushing amply on her own account, needing no assistance from her sister in that regard. Indeed, she looked quite becoming with her colour heightened and her eyes, usually so confident and piercing, appearing uncertain and nervous. He waited with interest to hear what sin she felt she had to confess.
Under his steady gaze, Elizabeth braced herself for his disgust and ploughed ahead with an explanation of her actions. “It was perhaps a temporary madness? But no, I cannot pretend it was entirely unpremeditated: I had thought of it several times during the day. I am sorry to say that it crossed my mind that if I were to stage a compromise with you sir, it would solve another problem that awaits me at home. However when it came to the moment of action, I found I could not press the point. You are safe from me, Mr Darcy. I make no demands on you. You have behaved as a true gentleman and it only remains for me to be ashamed of what my own conduct has been.”
It was Darcy’s turn to flush, first with anger at once again being the target of an attempted compromise, and then with embarrassment as he realised he had left himself open to such a possibility by walking alone with Miss Elizabeth, even before her amateurish attempt at falling into his arms. The lady’s candour was surprising, as was her assurance that she would not press a claim on his honour. Never having had the opportunity to discuss the mechanics of a compromise with one of the ladies involved, he found himself intrigued to find out what had driven her to the attempt, and what had convinced her not to carry it through in the end.
“Do I ask too much to know what problem could possibly await you at home that could drive you to even consider such a stratagem, madam? I had not thought you the kind of young lady to play such games, although I would not put it past your mother.” He did not entirely hide the scorn in his voice at the mention of Mrs Bennet.
“I might protest such a slander against my mother, if I did not know you have already seen her at her worst, and if I had not shown myself to merit such a comment, even if Mama did not. You deserve an explanation, sir, although I must admit it pains me to give it. This morning, I received a proposal from an eligible man in possession of a good living, with expectations of inheritance of an estate should he live longer than the current master, which by virtue of their relative ages would seem likely. I refused him on the meagre grounds that I cannot like him and the prospect of marrying him fills me with dread. My father has given me one week to reconsider, or to present an alternative solution to secure the comfort of my mother and sisters after his death. In one week, my father will exercise his paternal prerogative to compel me to accept my cousin’s hand, and my fate will be sealed.
“You have met Mr Collins, sir. You may imagine some of the reasons I did not embrace his offer immediately. My soul rebels against being required to marry him, yet there really is no other solution – certainly not one which will arise within a week. I was desperate, and in a moment of temporary weakness thought to destroy your future happiness in order to avoid destroying mine. But even as I acted, I realised the unfairness of such step. How could I live with trapping another into an unwanted marriage when that is the very evil I seek to avoid for myself? I apologise again and again, Mr Darcy. I hope you will accept my assurance that I could not really have compromised your honour. I could only work up the courage to even attempt the beginnings when I was sure we would not be seen by Jane or Mr Bingley. And in the event, my conscience revolted at carrying it through. I quite understand you will not wish to have anything further to do with me, but please, please, do not think ill of Jane. She had no idea of my plan, and is entirely innocent.”
The Lengths Young Ladies Will Go To
Darcy’s answer took her completely by surprise. It seemed he was more interested in the study of compromises than in blaming her for her attempt. “You are far from the first young lady to try to catch me, Miss Bennet, and I will admit that it was a half-hearted attempt at best. You did not cry out to garner attention. You had not ripped your clothing in anticipation of the event. You stood up promptly rather than feigning unconsciousness and forcing me to carry you back to the house. Indeed, you will need to work on your skills if you are to catch a man this week!”
His slight smile reassured her that he was more amused than offended, and she answered in a similar vein: “Mr Darcy, are you such an expert on the methods young ladies employ to ensnare eligible gentlemen? How is it that you have lived to such a ripe old age without falling into one of these traps?”
“Why, Miss Elizabeth, have you not noticed that I am an exceptionally rude man? My manners discourage most before they even begin, for I give them little reason to seek my company when there are other, more genial fellows available. But that is not enough, for there are many who would marry even the most unpleasant chap in order to become mistress of his estate and to spend his blunt. I am careful to never let young ladies get me alone. Both Bingley and my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam have proved invaluable in rescuing me from threatened compromises over the years. It is safer for us young men to travel in packs.” By now he sported a full grin. It was remarkably liberating to discuss suc
h things frankly with a woman who, despite admitting to attempting a compromise herself only minutes before, was now all wide-eyed astonishment at the details he was providing of how the young ladies of high society went about the art.
“I was once cornered in a friend’s library by a particularly determined young lady who proceeded to pull down her sleeve and expose parts of her body I had no business seeing. She was mortified when Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared from around a bookshelf and offered her his coat to cover herself, while talking to me the whole time of military manoeuvres on the Continent. He paused to address the lady, pointing out to her that he had an unimpeded view of me for the whole time and could attest that if anyone in that library had caused her disarray it was herself. He encouraged her to make her way to her rooms to put herself back in order before anyone discovered that she had exposed herself to two gentlemen. It was harsh, perhaps, but I was exceedingly grateful to him at the time.”
Elizabeth was indeed astonished to hear such a tale. She paled again at the thought she had joined the ranks of such disreputable women, even if only for a moment. She was mortified to realise that the gentleman at her side must think her just another fortune hunter ready to cast her own reputation to the dogs. She entreated him: “I cannot apologise enough. I beg of you not to mention this to anyone. Jane would be mortified, and I would not for the world have my mother hear of it.” She stopped earnestly to catch his eye, and he bowed slightly before giving his word that he would not breathe a word of the event without her permission.
It was then that Bingley and Jane meandered around the corner of the house, and Bingley called out to summon them back into the house. He was eager to make his way to Longbourn, in order to secure permission from Mr Bennet for his courtship with Jane. Wandering the gardens was all very well, but being an official suitor for Jane Bingley was a much more attractive option. As the couple on the brink of a courtship approached, Darcy took advantage of his last opportunity to speak privately to Miss Elizabeth. He leaned a little closer and said quietly, “I have indeed met Mr Collins, and cannot abide the thought of any woman of wit and intelligence being tied to such a man. If there is any way I can assist you in your current dilemma, Miss Elizabeth, you need only ask.”
There was no time for Elizabeth to answer this astonishing offer, but she quickly nodded her thanks and turned to greet her sister. The four returned to the house, with Bingley’s ebullient good cheer saving the others from much need to speak. Darcy and Elizabeth were more than willing to find themselves in company once again. Both had much to think about.
Elizabeth avoided meeting her sister’s eye. Jane would know immediately that something had happened, and would not rest until she knew the details. Elizabeth was not ready to share the mortifying tale of her foolish attempt with anyone, and certainly not with someone as pure and innocent as Jane. She would be shocked to the core. Even Jane would find it difficult to excuse such conduct. Elizabeth knew she had behaved in a truly disgraceful manner, and she could not bear to lose her sister’s respect. It was bad enough that Mr Darcy knew the depths to which she had sunk. If he were to share the tale with his friend Bingley, then Jane would learn of it sooner or later, but Elizabeth hoped it would be later. Much later.
She could not account for Mr Darcy’s attitude. His offer of assistance had been couched in such terms of approbation – did he really think her a woman of wit and intelligence? It was most confusing. She had expected him to be outraged and angry. He should have immediately cut her acquaintance after her attempt at a compromise, and the best she could hope was that he would not publicly humiliate her by disclosing her actions. Instead, he was calmly walking by her side back to the house, and seemed more amused than angry. Perhaps the storm was yet to come.
Darcy was indeed amused. It was refreshing to encounter a maiden so innocent in the ways of high society that her idea of a compromise was an unseen stumble in the garden, and who could not bring herself to carry through with even so slight a plan. Her subsequent amazement at his tales of true proficients in the art was enchanting. On reflection, it was also quite flattering that she held him honourable enough that she expected he would feel himself bound to offer for her even if their encounter remained unseen by any witness.
His amusement faded as he though back to the Netherfield Ball the night before: Miss Elizabeth had challenged him about his conduct towards Wickham and he had walked away rather than stage an argument in the middle of a ballroom. Wickham had obviously been spreading his tale of woe, defaming Darcy to any willing to listen. And Miss Elizabeth Bennet must have listened or she would not have raised the issue as she did. Darcy had given her no explanation, no basis on which to question Wickham’s no doubt well-spun lies. Instead, he had stormed off like a petulant child. He had given her no cause to think him honourable that night.
Perhaps she had understood him better than he had realised as a result of the few days they had spent in company when she and her sister Jane had resided briefly at Netherfield a fortnight before. She said she was a studier of character. Had she been studying his? What had she said at the ball? That she had heard such different accounts of him as to puzzle her exceedingly. So she did not accept Wickham’s slander at face value. She compared it to her other impressions of Darcy and was puzzled by the inconsistency. She had given him the chance to solve that puzzle and he had turned her away scornfully.
Yet after all that, she was ready, if only for a moment, to trust her future to his sense of honour. While she had immediately retracted any claim of compromise (though now that he thought about it, she had retracted a claim she had never even made, for no cries of distress or demands for recompense had crossed her lips), her future still lay in his hands. She must know well that if he exposed her actions while refusing to offer for her, she would be ruined by the scandal.
Of course, he would do no such thing. First, it was beneath him to ruin a young lady for nothing worse than a moment of foolishness for which she had already profusely apologised. Second, to ruin Miss Elizabeth would bring disgrace on her whole family, and now that Bingley was entangled with the Bennets, that would hurt his friend’s reputation, too. Third, Darcy would not see harm come to Miss Elizabeth if he could help it.
Ah, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He had initially dismissed her as a country miss of modest appearance and little standing – of no significance in his world. That impression had been gradually eroded by observations of her charming personality, her ease in social gatherings where Darcy himself was nearly immobilised by his overpowering reserve, her wit, her willingness to challenge his opinions with intelligent argument, her surprising knowledge of the classics, modern literature and contemporary events. To all this she added a certain something in her manner of walking, a delightful sparkle in her eye, and a becoming flush when she returned from one of her rambles. The sight of her breathless arrival at Netherfield to ask after her sick sister was something he would not soon forget.
Darcy acknowledged that he found Miss Elizabeth enchanting. It was that very attraction which had led him to welcome the plan to relocate to town. Whether Bingley returned to Netherfield or not, Darcy had firmly planned to remain in London, far away from the delightful Miss Elizabeth. He had obligations to his family and his estate: he would, of course, marry a woman of the first circles, well connected and with a large dowry. Miss Elizabeth was a pleasant distraction, but one he could not afford. There could be nothing between them, and he needed to shake off his temporary fascination with her charms.
Ironic, then, that she had offered him the chance to claim her as wife in a manner his family could not object to: if she had been compromised, they could not quibble that she did not meet their expectations. Protecting Darcy’s honour would necessitate a wedding, however lowly the woman, provided only that she was at least a gentlewoman. But Elizabeth had not pressed her case, and he was relieved of the need to disappoint his family’s expectations. That he did not feel relieved was probably
due to the events of the morning and his distress over Miss Bingley’s letter.
With two closely engaged in discussing all those things important to newly declared lovers who had narrowly escaped a cruel separation, and two lost in silent contemplation, they boarded Bingley’s carriage for the short trip to Longbourn. Caroline Bingley watched from an upper window, glad to have the main players absent as she laid her plans for the evening.
Home Again
At Longbourn the morning’s chaos had not abated. Mr Collins remained smugly certain that his proposal would be accepted. Mr Bennet had insisted that a week pass before he renew his offer to his cousin Elizabeth, but he was not discouraged. He complacently understood this as a fond father pandering to his daughter’s desire to raise her suitor’s ardour through suspense. While reluctantly agreeing to Mr Bennet’s stricture, Collins had no intention of waiting a week to make Miss Elizabeth aware that his ardour was already quite sufficient to the task. He would take every opportunity to press his suit without actually saying the words. In this endeavour he knew he would receive every assistance from his blushing bride’s mother.
The Maiden's Stratagem Page 4