by Lane Cossett
“Bingley, have pity on me. I am in need of a drink.”
Bingley did not move, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What is it?” asked Darcy.
“I know you are not a man for breaking conventions,” said Bingley slowly, “but could you not elope with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“No, I could not,” said Darcy, throwing himself into one of the tall wing-backed chairs. He ran his hands through his hair. He was feeling exhausted. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is very fond of her father. I do not want to come between them.”
“I think it is probably too late for that,” said Bingley, putting down his cue and going over to a tray with drinks on the side. “I am sure Miss Elizabeth will be very unhappy at her father’s decision and will tell him so. She is very different from her sister, though just as charming.”
Darcy gave a wry smile. Yes, Elizabeth Bennet was very different from the mild-mannered Miss Bennet and he was very grateful for the difference. He would never tell Bingley, but he thought the eldest Miss Bennet charming, but rather dull.
“I am certain they will exchange words on the matter but it will make no difference Bingley . Mr. Bennet has said quite clearly, he will never agree to a marriage between Miss Elizabeth Bennet and myself.”
Bingley poured them both a very large glass of port and handed one to his friend. Darcy took it gratefully. He took a sip and then downed the liquid in one go.
“Now steady on, Darcy,” said Bingley. “Drinking yourself into a stupor will not help. You must plan how you are going to get Mr. Bennet to change his mind.”
Darcy held out his glass, but Bingley ignored him. Darcy sighed. He wasn’t sure he liked his friend, who had always followed his lead, suddenly trying to assert himself. “What do you suggest I do?”
7
“Lizzy, may I come in?”
Jane was already standing in the open doorway to her room. Elizabeth, who was sitting by the window seat, nodded.
Jane stepped into the room, shut the door and quickly joined her. “Lizzy, I wondered what had happened to you. Mother was asking. Mrs. Hall told her you had a headache and had gone to lay down.”
Elizabeth gave a wry smile. The housekeeper had met her on the stairs and seen her distraught face. She had asked no questions but told her she would tell Mrs. Bennet that she was feeling indisposed and had decided to retire early. She had been grateful for the housekeeper’s discretion and had hurried away to her own room, still reeling from the shock her father had delivered. Even now she was struggling to understand what had happened.
Jane gently reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Will you tell me what is wrong? I can see that you are distressed.”
“Oh, Jane. I do not even know where to start,” said Elizabeth. She was not sure that her sister would understand any more than her father had done. She gently disentangled her hand and got up and sat down on the bed, swinging her legs up and propping herself against the pillows. She patted the space beside her and Jane joined her.
Once they were comfortable, Elizabeth confessed what had happened. “This evening Mr. Darcy asked father for my hand in marriage,” she said quietly.
Jane’s pretty face was wreathed in shock. “But, Lizzy, how strange. You have never liked the man, why would he do that?”
Tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes. “Because I love him, Jane, and he loves me.”
Jane bit her lip, looking troubled. “But when did this happen? You have never spoken of it.”
Elizabeth recognised the hurt in Jane’s voice and felt guilty. They had always been the sisters to share secrets with each other, but this was one she had kept to herself. The realisation of how much she loved Mr. Darcy had come over her so gradually she had not wanted to share it.
“It happened very slowly. I cannot tell you exactly when, but it was probably the first time I set eyes on Pemberley.”
Jane giggled. “Oh, Lizzy, when did you care for grand houses?”
Elizabeth looked indignant. “I have always been interested in houses.”
Jane gave her a gentle nudge. “You know that’s not what I meant. You would never choose a house over loving a man.”
Elizabeth grew serious. “No, I would not, Jane. Pemberley is very beautiful and I look forward to living there, but I would still want to marry Mr. Darcy if his house was a great deal smaller.”
Jane broke into a smile. “Then I am so pleased. It is wonderful to think that you will be marrying Mr. Bingley’s friend.”
Elizabeth nibbled at her fingers. It was hard to see Jane’s eager face. She loathed having to disappoint her sister. She took a deep breath. “There will be no marriage. Father has refused his permission.” The words were out. They sounded even worse when spoken out loud.
Jane moved position, so she could see Elizabeth’s face more clearly. “You are not speaking in jest, are you?” she asked quietly.
Elizabeth blinked hard several times and shook her head. “I wish that I was, but unfortunately it is true. Father told Mr. Darcy we could not marry, and he has banished him from Longbourn.”
Jane was indignant. “But why? I do not understand. Mr. Darcy is a good man.”
“Father doesn’t think he is. For some reason he has taken against him.” Elizabeth was finding it difficult not to cry. She tried to smile but could only grimace. It was as if she was trapped in a bad dream where she could not think in a reasonable fashion. “It is so strange. Father was not greatly troubled by Lydia marrying Mr. Wickham.”
“I am not sure that is true, Lizzy,” said Jane thoughtfully. “He was not very complimentary when uncle Gardiner’s letter arrived saying they were to marry.”
Elizabeth had to concede Jane was right. “But why then would he not even consider Mr. Darcy for my husband, Jane? Mr. Darcy is a much better man.”
“He is…. it is very puzzling. And father would not tell you why he has taken against Mr. Darcy?”
“No… he would not. I tried, but he sent me away without explanation.”
Elizabeth could see that Jane was fighting to find an explanation for father’s behaviour but there was none.
“I must write to Mr. Darcy,” she said suddenly. She had to. She did not want him to think she had any part in not being able to marry him. She was certain he would be as devastated as she was.
Jane’s brow was furrowed as she pondered on what Elizabeth had said. “Lizzy, you are not engaged to Mr. Darcy. I do not think you can write to him. It would not be the proper thing to do.”
Elizabeth sighed despairingly. “Oh, Jane, you are always so conventional. We both thought we were to be married. I want him to know that I have not changed my mind and it was father’s decision and his alone.”
Jane still looked worried. “I do understand, Lizzy, but I don’t think father would like it and I would not want you to upset him.”
Elizabeth tried not to look as exasperated as she felt. Did Jane not understand how upset she was? Her chance of a happy marriage with a man who loved her had suddenly disappeared, perhaps forever. Jane, on the other hand, would soon be married to the man she loved.
“Perhaps if I talk to Mr. Bingley,” suggested Jane tentatively.
“It has nothing to do with Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth crossly. “It is between Mr. Darcy, father and I.”
“Very well.” Jane’s voice was quieter than ever and Elizabeth realised guilty that she had hurt her sister’s feelings by her impatience. Anger was bubbling up inside her, but it was not Jane’s fault. She grabbed her sister’s hand and held it tightly.
“Jane, do not let us fall out over this business. I am sorry to sound so cross, but I am struggling to make sense of it all. Father’s refusal is such a shock.”
“Perhaps he will have changed his mind by the morning,” said Jane.
Elizabeth gave a wry smile. “Jane, you are always so optimistic. I am afraid father was adamant that he would not change his mind. He said in time I would fall in love with someone else.”
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Jane was silent for a moment as both of them were lost in their thoughts. It was Jane who spoke first. “Lizzy, it is all so very bewildering… I think perhaps … I do not like to speak out of turn ….Have you noticed …?”
Jane stopped speaking and Elizabeth waited for her to finish, but she said no more. The fingers on her free hand were busy twisting the edge of the bed cover.
“Jane, what are you saying?”
Jane looked around nervously and her voice dropped to a whisper as if she was scared someone else was in the room. “This evening father was most strange. He sounded as if he was speaking in jest but at times he was most unpleasant.”
Elizabeth had noticed, but she thought perhaps she was imagining it. Her father had never held any great affection for their mother or her younger sisters. “Jane, you are right, but it is not just this evening. He has been this way for a long time. I think I first became aware of it about six months ago and I have wondered at the cause of it.”
Jane nodded. “He is different. I have noticed his teasing has a sharpness to it that was not apparent before. He spends more time in his study when he is here than ever before but more strangely he now often goes away. He rarely did in the past.”
Jane’s cheeks were almost puce as she spoke and Elizabeth knew that it pained her to criticise her father and yet everything she said was true. They had never spoken about it before, each of them holding back from what had been obvious. Their father had changed in manner and behaviour. It was very unsettling.
“He is different, but I cannot think of the cause. I cannot see why he would not allow me to marry Mr. Darcy when he was delighted with your engagement to Mr. Bingley. It makes no sense.”
Elizabeth knew she was repeating herself, but she was desperate to understand why her father was so against Mr. Darcy.
“What are you going to do now, Lizzy?” Jane stared at her anxiously.
Elizabeth shook her head. She did not know. She had never felt so helpless. There were so many thoughts whirling around her head that she was struggling to make sense of them all. There had to be an explanation for her father’s refusal and perhaps if she could find it, she might be able to make him change his mind. “I think I will retire. I am very tired.”
Jane leaned over and kissed her sister and then got off the bed. “I shall leave you, Lizzy. I will pray that father has a change of mind.”
“Goodnight, Jane.”
As soon as the door closed, Elizabeth got off the bed, crossed the room and sat down at her small writing table. She had no time for prayers. She was going to write to her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Both her uncle and aunt knew Mr. Darcy and were quite fond of him. Perhaps they would be able to speak to her father and plead on her behalf in the hope he might change her mind. She did not know what else she could do.
8
When Elizabeth awoke, the sun had already risen and was shining into her bedchamber. She sleepily rubbed her eyes. She did not feel very comfortable and wondered why. As she sat up she looked down at herself in dismay. She had not made her normal preparations for bed and she had fallen asleep on top of the bedcovers still dressed in the gown she had worn to dinner. It was very crumpled.
She gently swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed as she gathered her thoughts. Before she had fallen asleep she had spent nearly two hours composing a letter to her aunt. It had taken so long because at first all she wanted to do was rail against her father, and she kept reading what she had written and then abandoned the paper and started afresh. At last she had been satisfied and had laid down to rest.
Elizabeth was glad to have had some sleep. Now that it was morning she could think more clearly.
She got up and stretched before crossing over to the writing table where the letter still lay. She quickly read it again and then folded it and sealed it. She wanted it to go to London without delay.
She left the letter on the table and then took off the dress she had been wearing the night before and left it over the back of the chair. She only hoped Sarah would be able to get the creases out of it.
When done, she washed her face and hands and fetched fresh undergarments and a simple day dress. She could have rung for one of the maids to assist her, but she was quite accustomed to getting ready by herself. She loved the beginning of the day at Longbourn before the rest of the household was awake. It was blissfully quiet, and she liked to either go for a walk or practice the pianoforte.
Once she was washed and dressed, Elizabeth unpinned her hair and brushed her brown curls and then pinned it again. She hadn’t made quite such a good job of it as Hannah did, but she was not concerned with her appearance on that morning.
When she was ready she hurried downstairs with her precious letter and left it on the tray in the hallway to be posted with any others.
She could hear sounds from the servants but no one else seemed to be around so she went to the drawing room and shut the door. She sat down at the pianoforte and selected some music.
She needed something to distract her thoughts and she’d been recently neglecting her studies. She smiled to herself thinking of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy’s aunt, who on hearing her play had said she would never be proficient without more practice. Elizabeth played a few notes and then stopped. Why she had suddenly thought of Lady Catherine, she did not know. She was one of the most unpleasant women she had ever met.
She tried to banish all thoughts of Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy from her mind and concentrate on the music in front of her. She certainly was a little rusty and her fingers stumbled. She stopped and went back a few bars and played only with her right hand and then her left before playing with both. After the third attempt she had managed to master the opening. Pleased with herself, she continued until she came across another difficult bar and her fingers stumbled. Mr. Oaten, the music teacher who called at the house once a month, would be disappointed with her. She seemed to have been going backwards, not forwards. Being in love seemed to have had a poor effect on her playing.
She once again went back a few bars and played a few notes very slowly. It was a long time since she had been so diligent. She was completely absorbed in trying to get the music right when the door suddenly opened. It was Mary, clutching some music in her hand.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I did not know you were here.”
Elizabeth immediately closed her music. “It does not matter. Are you here to practice?”
Mary nodded. “I was disappointed that I did not have the opportunity to play for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy last night. I am sure they would have particularly enjoyed hearing my version of Robin Adair.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. Both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had already endured the pain of listening to Mary play and sing and their faces had shown their horror at the sound.
“I am sure there will be another occasion.” Elizabeth got up from the chair. “I will leave you to practice.”
“Oh, do not hurry away, Lizzy. I would like you to tell me what you think of this piece by Mozart I have been practicing.”
“No, I can’t!” Her words sounded unnecessarily sharp.
Mary was looking at her in surprise and she found her cheeks growing bright red.
“What I meant to say is that I regret I am unable to listen at this moment,” said Elizabeth, hoping she would not be struck down for telling a small fib. “Perhaps later.”
Mary did not hide her disappointment. “I notice everyone in this household always seems too busy to listen to me play. It is a great pity as I would welcome your views. Otherwise how else is one to improve?”
Elizabeth merely smiled. In truth Mary never listened to the opinions of others. Lydia had often been rude to Mary, telling her very clearly how poor her singing and playing were, even going so far as to put her hands over her ears while Mary played and then starting to sing in a loud voice herself, but it had never made any difference. Mary was very proud of her own skills and always carried on regar
dless.
“I will see you later, Mary,” muttered Elizabeth, deciding that ignoring what Mary was saying was better than trying to discuss it with her. Mary shared with her mother the complete inability to listen to others. Nothing was to be gained in trying to argue or reason with her.
Pursing her lips Mary took her place at the pianoforte, and after opening her music started to play and sing which hastened Elizabeth’s departure from the room. Hearing Mary’s dreadful screeching, she was relieved to close the door behind her. Poor Mary, she really had no talent for singing at all.
Eager to put some distance between Mary and herself, Elizabeth decided to go for a walk. The day was warm, and she had no need for a coat. She went to find her bonnet hanging on a hook in the back passage close to the kitchen.
As she was just tying the ribbons around her neck, Mrs. Hall came along. The housekeeper seemed surprised to see her.
“Miss Elizabeth. Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Hall. It’s a beautiful day. I was just about to go for a walk before breakfast.”
Mrs. Hall frowned. “I’m afraid you can’t, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth was puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
The housekeeper did not quite meet her eyes. “It’s your father, Miss Lizzy. He has told us that you are not allowed to leave the house, and if any of us saw you, we were to stop you.”
Elizabeth was shocked. Her father had always allowed her the freedom to roam the countryside around Longbourn.
“Are you sure he was not speaking in jest?” she asked.
“No, Miss Elizabeth. He summoned me to his study to inform me last night.”
Elizabeth was starting to shake. What was happening? Her father had never treated her in such a manner.
“Where is my father now?” she asked quietly.
“He did not retire last night so he is still in his study.”
Mrs. Hall had barely finished speaking before Elizabeth had left her side. She went as quickly as she could back down to the passage and crossed the hall to her father’s study. She banged loudly on the door knowing that he might be sleeping. She banged again and when there was no answer, she opened the door.