by Lane Cossett
Elizabeth glanced under her eyelashes at Mr. Darcy, whose expression in comparison to his friend’s was rather severe. She knew that it would pain him a great deal to have to listen to her mother. She had once defended her family against his criticism, but she could not help being embarrassed at their behaviour.
“You see, Mr. Bingley, it was most unfortunate that Mr. Bennet and I never had any sons. I hope that you and my dear Jane will be blessed with a son.”
“Indeed it would have been a blessing,” murmured Mr. Bennet as he reached for some dessert. “Imagine all of those years I would have avoided such silly conversations.”
“Father, that is not fair,” said Kitty Bennet indignantly.
“Do you think not?” Mr. Bennet, frowning slightly. “When did you last read anything of merit? Have I heard you read a poem, observe a watercolour drawing, heard you sing with the sweetness of an accomplished singer?”
He paused and Elizabeth inwardly winced. She wished he would not embarrass them so. Usually he made such remarks in banter, but this time she had a feeling that he was absolutely serious. Kitty’s cheeks were flushed, and she looked as if she was about to cry.
“Tell me, Katherine - what other conversations do you have other than those about dresses, balls or husbands?”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet, how droll you are,” said Mrs. Bennet. “What else would you expect Kitty to talk about?”
Miss Mary Bennet spoke up. “There are many things a young woman should educate herself about if they are to hold a suitable position in society.” She smile at them all. “I have recently been studying some famous women who have exceeded their positions in life and …”
“Oh, do be quiet, Mary,” snapped Mrs. Bennet, who was picking at a bunch of grapes. “No one is interested in your nonsense. You should concentrate less on books and do something to find yourself a husband.”
Elizabeth looked across the table at Jane. She knew her sister was finding the whole evening as difficult as she was. She only hoped there would not be many more of these dinners before she was married to Mr. Darcy.
She had been shocked but delighted when he had proposed that afternoon. Seeing him sitting across the table, unsmiling with his habitual severe expression, she inwardly smiled. She had seen a softer side to him that she thought few others had probably ever witnessed and it was this part of him that she had fallen in love with.
If Mr. Darcy had not overcome his pride and arranged the marriage between the youngest Bennet sister, Lydia, and his childhood friend, Mr. Wickham, when the two had eloped together, a huge scandal would have ensued and the Bennets would have been shunned by all good society. None of the family but her uncle Mr. Gardiner knew how much they were in Mr. Darcy’s debt.
Mr. Darcy had told her that he had not done it for the Bennets but he had done it for her and this knowledge had told her just how much he loved her. It was a testament to the character of Mr. Darcy that he had buried his own feelings and offered assistance to a man who was an enemy, and who had almost caused a tragedy in his own family in order to ensure her future.
She could not pay him back with money, but she hoped to ensure that they had a happy marriage.
“Elizabeth, you are very quiet this evening,” said Mrs. Bennet, breaking into Lizzy’s thoughts.
“I am sorry, mama. Did you say something?”
“I do wish you would pay attention. It is no wonder you cannot find yourself a husband.”
Elizabeth tried to keep a smile on her face. Her mother really could be very trying.
“Lizzy will find herself a husband and soon I am sure,” said Jane, the peacemaker.
Elizabeth smiled gratefully at her sister. She had not confided in Jane about Mr. Darcy’s proposal and she was feeling nervous about doing so. Elizabeth had been so strong in her condemnation of Mr. Darcy’s past behaviour and had been very open in her dislike of him that Jane would struggle to believe that she’d had a change of heart. Sometimes she wished she could learn not to speak what was on her mind. Doing so often caused her trouble.
Mrs. Bennet was not about to be pacified. “Lady Lucas has a daughter with a good marriage. Mrs. Pearson had two girls wed last month, and Mrs. Moncreith will have her second off her hands in the autumn. No one understands how difficult it is when there are five daughters.”
Mr. Bennet looked down the table at his tearful wife. “Well, my dear, Mr. Bingley will soon have taken Jane off our hands and if he is unable to provide our remaining three daughters with husbands, I am sure we can send them off to work and then they will no longer be an expense to us.”
Kitty burst into tears, while Mrs. Bennet’s face grew puce in colour. “Mr. Bennet, why do you say such a thing? Our daughters cannot work. It would not be right.”
“I am sure they could,” said Mr. Bennet quite unrepentantly. “Kitty and Mary have few skills, it is true, but Lizzy I am sure would make a creditable governess.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. She wished her father would stop teasing her mother. She could see the look of disapproval on Mr. Darcy’s face. Mrs. Bennet was now swaying alarmingly in her chair, gasping for breath in a dramatic fashion.
“Mr. Bennet …. You…. You will be the death of me.”
“I doubt it, my dear. A few smelling salts and I am sure you will be restored to full health. I think it is time you ladies left us to enjoy some port.”
Elizabeth was quickly on her feet and Jane followed suit, and they guided their mother from the room as she continued to mutter about their father and his cruelty.
Once in the drawing room they settled her into her customary chair where she weakly called for salts. Mary fetched them and held some under her nose, exhibiting a sudden transformation from Mrs. Bennet as she gasped and spluttered and slapped Mary’s hand away.
“You awful girl,” she snapped as she started to cough and sneeze. It took some minutes before they were able to calm her and Elizabeth marvelled once again at how easily her mother had ensured all attention was on herself.
Elizabeth tried to concentrate on what was happening in the drawing room, although her thoughts kept slipping to Mr. Darcy. She wondered how he was going to find the opportunity to speak to Mr. Bennet alone.
Jane stayed beside her mother and having been rejected, Mary retreated to a corner and buried her head in one of her beloved books. Mrs. Hall, their housekeeper, arrived with tea and it was Elizabeth who, glad to have something to do, poured a cup for everyone.
Mrs. Bennet began to recover herself. “I do not understand why your father would speak of sending you to work,” she said.
“Mother, he spoke in jest,” said Elizabeth firmly, putting a cup of tea down on the table beside her mother. “You know how father likes to tease.”
“He has no consideration for my feelings at all,” whined Mrs. Bennet. “Does he not understand how much he tries my nerves?”
None of them were able to answer that. Kitty was still dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t know that I could work.”
Elizabeth inwardly sighed. Kitty never understood her father’s jokes any more than their mother. She loved her father a great deal, but she was not blind to his shortcomings. The contempt he displayed to his his wife was apparent in the way he teased Mrs. Bennet or ignored her. He had equal contempt for his youngest daughters who he cheerfully insulted almost daily. Elizabeth had tried to tell her father that his teasing sometimes caused a great deal of upset in the household, but he had laughed and patted her arm. “Lizzy, would you deny me my daily sport to liven up my day? What else should a gentleman do but find amusement in the absurd that he finds all around him?”
Elizabeth had given up. Her father would not change. How she looked forward to a quieter life after her marriage to Mr. Darcy. She would miss Jane and her father greatly, but she would not miss the daily dramas of her mother’s petty squabbling with her father and sisters.
3
Darcy took a sip of his port. It was a surprisingly good vintage, deep
and rich with a pleasant comforting warmth as it slipped down his throat.
With his wife and daughters gone from the room Mr. Bennet was quite a different man. “I am a man who enjoys a great deal of solitude,” he said, “but I do believe you are two men whose company I can tolerate. Perhaps you would both like to join me for some shooting tomorrow.”
Charles Bingley eagerly agreed. “That would be an honour, sir.”
“And will you join us, Mr. Darcy?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“I’m afraid my plans are uncertain. I have a number of business matters to attend to.”
Mr. Bennet was not offended by his prevarication. “Well, if you should change your mind then you are very welcome to join us. Would two o’clock please you, Mr. Bingley?”
“It would, sir.”
Darcy sipped his drink, wondering why his friend always had to sound so damn obsequious. He had known Bingley since they were at school together, but in many ways they were unlikely friends. They were so very different. Bingley was often diffident and far too eager to please.
“And do you often shoot, Mr. Darcy?”
“When I can, but there are many demands on my time.”
“Darcy’s estate in Derbyshire is the largest in the county,” said Bingley.
Darcy frowned, but Mr. Bennet merely looked amused. “And I think I had heard something about a ten thousand a year fortune.”
Naturally Mr. Bennet knew. From the moment he had come to visit his good friend Charles Bingley, there had been speculation about his wealth. It was one of the things that he despised about the small town of Meryton where people had nothing to do but gossip about each other. There was little to excite them in such a dull place.
Darcy was rather relieved that Mrs. Bennet had taken a dislike to him and had no suspicion that he wanted to marry her daughter. He was sure that when she heard, she would completely change her opinion of him. It was very clear all her thoughts were on attaining good marriages for her daughters.
“I have been most fortunate to have inherited one of the finest houses in England,” he said carefully.
“And with that must come a great deal of responsibility,” said Mr. Bennet. “Well, that is not something that I envy. I am afraid that I am far too fond of my books to want to spend time running a large estate.”
Darcy did not admit that he sometimes found it a burden. “I am fortuitous in the staff that I have, many of whom were there in my father’s time. They are invaluable in the work they do. My role is very unimportant, I assure you.”
“Now that I do not believe, sir,” said Mr. Bennet. “You have an air of seriousness about you, which tells me you do not spend your time in mere idle pursuits.”
Mr. Darcy was surprised at Mr. Bennet’s remarks and he sipped his port. What a strange man he was. One moment he was taunting his wife and daughters in a quite an unpleasant manner and the next he was making accurate observations into the character of someone he’d met only a few times. He found the paradox surprising.
Mr. Bennet took a final sip of his port and put his glass back on the table. “Well, gentlemen, I think it is time we should return to the ladies.”
Darcy took a deep breath. This was it. He nodded discreetly at his friend. “Sir, I wonder whether I could have a word with you. There is a matter of business I wish to discuss with you.”
Mr. Bennet sat back in his chair. “Indeed? And what is that, sir?”
Bingley hastily got to his feet. “I do not believe my presence is required here. I will go and join the ladies.”
Darcy was grateful for his friend’s help and he waited until Bingley had left the room before he spoke. As soon as the door closed, he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. How ridiculous. It was not like him to be nervous. He took a deep breath and then tried again. “Mr. Bennet, the matter of business I have to speak to you about concerns your daughter Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet’s calm expression did not change. “And what is that, sir?”
“For some months, I have come to admire your daughter very deeply. Not just admire her, indeed love her and this evening, I would ask your permission to take her as my wife.”
Mr. Bennet leaned over and picked up the bottle of port and poured himself another drink. He offered Darcy one, but Darcy shook his head. He had no intention of his mind becoming befuddled by having too much to drink.
“And you admire my daughter?” asked Mr. Bennet slowly.
“I do, sir. She is one of the most cultured women of my acquaintance and I care for her a great deal. I know you are aware of the gossip regarding my wealth. It is not something I have ever spoken of, but it is true, and I will be able to provide your daughter with a very comfortable home, not just in Derbyshire, but also in London where I maintain another home and where we would spend the winter months. Naturally I would not want Miss Bennet to be torn from her family and you would be welcome to visit her in town or in the country.”
Never in his life had Darcy made such a long speech and he was beginning to think he was talking too much. He could not tell what Mr. Bennet was thinking and he tried to quell his irritation that he did not sound more enthusiastic at such a prospect. Perhaps he needed to be more like Bingley. But he could not be.
At last Mr. Bennet spoke. “Mr. Darcy, you do my daughter a great honour in your request, but I am afraid I must decline. Elizabeth cannot marry you.”
Mr. Darcy was stunned. He stared closely at Mr. Bennet, wondering if the older man was joking, but there was no sign of humour in his face. Was he dreaming? No, of course he was not. Perhaps he had not made his intentions clear or he had not heard Mr. Bennet’s reply correctly.
“Mr. Bennet, I asked that I be allowed to wed your daughter.”
Mr. Bennet smiled vaguely. “Yes, sir, I know, and I am afraid I must decline. Now should we join the ladies?” He got to his feet and gestured for Mr. Darcy to follow him.
Darcy did not move. He could not move. His proposal had been refused. He did not believe it. It was quite preposterous. He wanted to know why.
4
Elizabeth had decided to follow Mary’s lead and she had picked up a book of poetry. She was feeling surprisingly restless and although she had no idea what it was she was reading, it did provide some distraction from her thoughts about what was happening in the dining room. Suddenly the door opened, and everyone looked up to see Mr. Bingley enter the room.
“And where are Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
“They had a matter of business to discuss,” said Mr. Bingley, standing near the hearth. “I am sure they will join us in a moment.”
Mrs. Bennet sniffed disapprovingly. “Mr. Bennet is so selfish. Do you not think he is selfish, Mr. Bingley? He should be here now, not talking to Mr. Darcy. It is quite rude. I know dear Mary is waiting to entertain you all. How could they not be here?”
“Mama do not upset yourself,” said Jane soothingly. “I am sure they will be here in a moment.”
Not for the first time Elizabeth marvelled at Jane’s patience. Her sister was always so calming and thoughtful, never criticising or raising her voice.
“I am looking forward to hearing Miss Mary play,” said Mr. Bingley valiantly.
“Then you are a fool,” whispered Kitty
“Kitty.” Elizabeth frowned at her younger sister. “There is no need to insult Mr. Bingley.”
Kitty looked mortified, as she realised she had been heard. “I am sorry, sir. Naturally you are not a fool. I should not have…” Kitty burst into tears and reached for a handkerchief and started to mop her eyes.
“Oh, do be quiet, Kitty. No one wants to listen to you. Your crying gets on my nerves.”
Mrs. Bennet’s sharp words only increased Kitty’s sobs.
Elizabeth inwardly sighed. Her head was beginning to ache. She would be glad when the evening was over. She cast around for something to say. “Mr. Bingley how are your sisters?”
Mr. Bingley looked relieved at her
question and seized upon it at once. “They are well, Miss Elizabeth, both of them are well. They are looking forward to the wedding.”
Elizabeth doubted it was true. Mr. Bingley’s sisters, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, had been openly hostile towards all the Bennets. She knew they had no wish to have their two families joined in marriage. Jane was fortunate that Mr. Bingley was a much kinder person than his sisters. He loved Jane and that was clear to see.
“And are they at Netherfield at the moment?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
“They have been down in London, but I expect them back tomorrow.”
Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth to speak again, but she was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Hall, the Bennet’s housekeeper. She crossed the room and handed a note to Mr. Bingley. He opened it and then quickly refolded it again. He turned to Mrs. Bennet.
“Mrs. Bennet, I would like to thank you for a most delightful evening, but I must take my leave.”
He was edging towards the door before anyone could stop him.
“What, now? Mrs. Bennet’s brown curls waved furiously beneath her white cap. “But the evening is not over.” You have yet to hear Mary play.”
Mr. Bingley’s cheeks were red, but he remained resolute. “I am sorry, but I have to leave. This matter cannot be delayed.”
Before Mrs. Bennet could object, Mr. Bingley bowed, nodded at Jane and hastily left the room. Elizabeth looked at Jane, who was looking exceedingly puzzled. Elizabeth’s heart was thumping hard. She did not understand. She did not believe Mr. Bingley had any sudden business. She wondered who the note was from.
Mrs. Bennet did nothing to hide her annoyance. “I expect it’s that Mr. Darcy. I have told you girls what a bad man he is. I don’t know how our dear Mr. Bingley puts up with him.”
“They are friends, mother,” said Elizabeth sharply.
“Well, he is not the sort of friend that I would want. He has made no effort to help Wickham. Look how rude he has always been to you, Lizzy. And now he has spoiled this evening.” Mrs. Bennet was enjoying working herself into a rage again and her voice was reaching a crescendo.