by Alexa Adams
The voice seemed to Mrs. Bennet’s ears as if it came through a dense fog and great distance. She could not possibly have heard correctly. Mr. Darcy, that odious man! He would never ask for her daughter‘s hand, so proud and superior. There must be some mistake. Mr. Darcy of Pemberley? Mr. Darcy with ten thousand pounds … “Oh my! Excuse me, child, but what did you say?”
Elizabeth smiled in relief, “I am to marry Mr. Darcy, Mama. Is that not agreeable?”
“Oh! Yes, indeed, my dear girl! But Mr. Darcy? You are quite certain?”
“Yes, ma’am. I could not be more so.”
Mrs. Bennet stood up, only to sit back down again, as if unsure of what it was she wanted to do. She stared up at Elizabeth and began to ramble, with a great deal of awe, "Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Dear me! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true?”
“Yes indeed it is, Mama. I would not jest regarding a matter of such import.”
“Oh! My sweetest Lizzy! How rich and how great you will be!”
“I suppose I must, as Mr. Darcy is himself so rich and great.”
“But only consider! What pin money, what jewels, what carriages you will have! Jane is nothing to it – nothing at all!”
“I’m sure you need not share that opinion with her.”
“Such a charming man! So handsome! So tall! Oh, my dear Lizzy! Pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it.”
“You will find Mr. Darcy everything gracious. We have been very much mistaken in him. He is the best of men.”
“Yes, yes of course he is! Oh, my dear, dear Lizzy! A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me? I shall go distracted."
Certain her mother would somehow overcome any indisposition resulting from overwhelming happiness, Elizabeth felt safe excusing herself and retreated to her own room. While pleased by her mother’s delight, she felt no need to subject herself to its spectacle. Unfortunately, Mrs. Bennet was not ready to quietly reflect on the family’s good fortune, and not three minutes passed before she was at her daughter’s door. "My dearest child!" she cried. "I can think of nothing else! Ten thousand a year, and very likely more! 'Tis as good as a Lord! And a special license! You must and shall be married by special license. But my dearest love, tell me what dish Mr. Darcy is most fond of, that I may have it tomorrow."
Elizabeth sighed. Would that her stunned silence had continued! “Dear Mama, Mr. Darcy himself has already complimented the excellence of your table. You need not go to extraordinary means to please him.”
“Yes, yes of course, you clever girl! He particularly enjoyed the partridges. But can we serve them again so soon?”
“I do not see why not.”
“What thinks Mr. Darcy of grouse?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Lizzy! If he is to be your husband, you best make it your business to know his tastes,” she scolded before bustling off to plague Hill with menus. Elizabeth reflected that, though in the certain possession of his warmest affection, and secure of her relations' consent, there was still something to be wished for in her engagement. She would have to do all she could to minimize Mr. Darcy’s mortifications at the hands of her family.
While riding to Longbourn the next morning, Mr. Bingley commented on his friend’s likely discomfiture. “Shall you enjoy having the opportunity to kill all the pheasants at Longbourn? Admit it, Darcy, few hostesses are so generous.”
“Indeed. It may prove a very welcome invitation. Each time I am tempted to snub the lady, I’ll take a gun and deplete her park instead: a very satisfactory exchange.”
“I daresay you will miss Mrs. Bennet’s old coolness, but your loss is my gain. You have spared me the brunt of her effusions, being a far greater matrimonial prize. I am sure to be neglected, now that you have eclipsed me.”
“Don’t be so downcast, Bingley. I have perfect faith that Mrs. Bennet has enough admiration to spare us both.”
Darcy’s jocularity masked his nervousness. The likely change in Mrs. Bennet’s demeanor, now that Elizabeth had announced their engagement, was sure to be uncomfortable. He hoped to conduct himself in a manner to make Elizabeth proud, enduring her mother with good grace and tolerance. More he doubted he could muster.
All the ladies of the house were at home. Jane and Elizabeth came forward with greetings, but Mrs. Bennet seemed oddly subdued. She smiled nervously at the gentlemen and invited them to sit down, but after offering and ordering refreshments fell silent – she and her two daughters choosing to stare at Mr. Darcy, rather than assault him with felicitations.
Bingley looked at Darcy with a shrug before taking his place beside Jane. Darcy sat by Elizabeth, and her smile put him somewhat at ease, but the inattention of the three ladies across the way to their needlework, as they continued to inspect him like some exotic circus creature, was thoroughly unnerving.
Elizabeth, while relieved her mother wasn’t overwhelming her intended with attention, was also acutely aware that such unusual behavior on her family’s part might be even more conspicuous. She never thought such extremes would prove necessary, but she silently urged Darcy into opening a conversation with her mother. Clearly, the lady was so very awed by such a grand prospect as Mr. Darcy, that the proverbial cat had stolen her tongue. He nervously complied, clinging to safe ground: “Mrs. Bennet, it is a lovely afternoon, is it not?”
“Yes indeed, Mr. Darcy, very lovely,” was the normally loquacious lady’s reply.
“Unseasonably warm as well.”
“Yes, quite so. Unseasonably warm. Don’t you agree, Kitty?”
With a slight jump that young lady responded, “Yes, Mama. Unseasonably warm.”
This would not do. Her family was so overawed by Mr. Darcy that anything resembling coherent conversation was beyond them. The situation called for drastic measures, and Elizabeth repositioned herself for the assault: “My mother had a wonderful notion last evening. She suggests that we marry by special license. Would that not be felicitous?”
Darcy turned to her in surprise, well aware that such ostentation was far from what Elizabeth preferred. She tilted her head towards her mother and, glancing in that lady’s direction, he noted her blushing countenance and responded appropriately, “Yes, of course I can acquire one, if you like. My uncle is well acquainted with the archbishop, and I have often dined in his company.”
By Mrs. Bennet’s response, he knew he had hit upon precisely the right topic, “Do you really know the archbishop himself, sir?
“I do indeed, ma’am. His Grace and my uncle were at school together.”
Mrs. Bennet beamed and addressed the daughters flanking her. ”There! Now you see, my girls!”
“See what, Mama?” Kitty questioned, much confused.
“Why, what a very great gentleman Mr. Darcy is, just as I said!”
This reply left him flustered, and Elizabeth turned the conversation back to her purpose. “I imagine the procurement of a special license will require several days in London. There must be some protocol to be followed, and as his Grace is a familial connection, it is of particular import that you not be remiss in such matters. How long must you be away?”
Darcy had no choice but to return Elizabeth’s sly smile. Never had prevarication sat so well with him. “Yes. You are correct. I imagine a month might suffice, for once I am in town I cannot possibly leave without paying my respects to those of my primary connections currently in residence.”
“But sir,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted, “surely you intend to go to town regardless, in order to see to the settlements?”
“Bingley and I intended to perform a quick trip, just to consult our lawyers and be gone. I would not even have had to place the knocker on my door for such a mission, but a consultation with the archbishop will take time to arrange, and society must be given its due.”
“Certainly, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth contin
ued. “One can never be too correct regarding such matters. For the honor conveyed by a special license, I believe I can bear the separation.”
“Can you?” came his forthright reply. “I am afraid I am not likewise ready to part from your company at this time.”
“Then you mustn’t!” declared Mrs. Bennet, much in her usual manner. “How can you so distress Mr. Darcy? Though your heart is set on marriage by special license, Lizzy, you must make do with the banns. Soon you shall be a married woman and will have to accustom yourself to accommodating your husband’s wants.”
“I imagine I can tolerate the disappointment, Mama, if you can.”
“Disappointment? My dear Lizzy! What nonsense you speak, child! Never have I been more content.”
No one in the room had the slightest doubt of her claim’s veracity.
**********
“Mr. Darcy, I would be pleased if you would join me in my library. I understand that the allure of books pales besides my Lizzy, but you will indulge your future father, will you not?”
Mr. Bennet had approached as they listened to Mary perform upon her instrument, and while Darcy was surprised by the request, he was most happy to comply, “Certainly sir. I am delighted.”
“No need to go so far,” he chuckled. “Willing will suffice.”
The gentlemen settled themselves into the comfortably worn armchairs, Mr. Darcy curious as to the nature of this tête-à-tête. Surely, everything needing to be discussed had been the day before. Like himself, he knew Mr. Bennet was not a man of idle conversation, adding to the unexpectedness of this interview. He doubted his host merely sought to provide relief from Mary’s concerto.
“Well Mr. Darcy, you have weathered my wife’s effusions admirably. I commend you for it, though my entertainment would have been better secured had your self-command faltered. And she did let you off very easy, as I’m sure you know. It seems the requisition of such a grand son-in-law has been precisely the balm to sooth her nerves. Pity I didn’t think of it years ago. Take my advice, Mr. Darcy, and keep Mrs. Bennet in awe of you. If she perceives a crack in that notable dignity of yours, we shall all suffer.”
Darcy smiled, “I will do my best, sir.”
“Of course, if she knew of your service to her youngest daughter, there would be no escaping her gratitude, which would come in the form of massive imposition, as she would surely expect you to forevermore play the hero in all our family dramas.”
Mr. Darcy flushed. “I had no notion you knew, sir.”
“Lizzy only just told me.” He lost his typical air of humor and grew serious. “We are deeply indebted to you, Mr. Darcy. Lydia’s adventure could never have ended so well had you not intervened.”
“I thought only of Elizabeth, sir. I could not, having witnessed her desolation at Lambton, allow her to suffer so. She has already thanked me. You owe me nothing.”
“Nothing, sir? Excuse me, but it is inconceivable that you did not lay out an absurd amount of money to bring about the marriage of two of the most worthless individuals to ever grace this Earth, to say nothing of the personal exertions of body and mind such an endeavor entailed. I ask that you disclose all, so I may at least compensate you for the financial loss.”
“That is unnecessary, Mr. Bennet. I understand why this arrangement is uncomfortable for you, but I acted on my own behalf. Besides, had I exposed Wickham as a rogue, none of this could ever have happened. I would do anything to promote Miss Elizabeth’s happiness, and if you attempt to reimburse me for each favor I bestow upon her, you will soon find yourself in a sorry state.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “How can I argue with such rationale, Mr. Darcy? I was counting on a violent display of lovers’ devotion, and your too reasonable philosophy disappoints. Bingley would have done it right.”
“I am sorry, sir,” Darcy chuckled.
“Oh, no need to apologize. I’m none the worse in gaining at least one sensible son-in-law. Mary and Kitty will surely fulfill their potential by marrying two thoroughly amusing specimens of mankind. The least you can do is accept my thanks, Mr. Darcy. While Lydia and Wickham are undeserving of your kindness, Jane and Elizabeth are not. I think you will make my Lizzy a very happy woman.”
“That is my intention, sir.”
“I need importune you no longer, son. I believe Mary has concluded her performance, so you had best get back to Elizabeth.” Darcy was all complaisance.
Mr. Bennet lingered behind, penning a long delayed response to Mr. Collins’ last missive:
Dear Sir,
I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.
Yours sincerely, &c.
**********
After a few blissful days of basking in each other’s company, Elizabeth broached the unavoidable. "Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to befall her?"
"I am more likely to want more time than courage, Elizabeth, but it ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet of paper, it shall be done directly."
"And had I not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you and admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected."
From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner's long letter; but now, having that to communicate which she knew would be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as follows:
I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory, detail of particulars; but to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. But now suppose as much as you choose; give a loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you, again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it! Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the Park every day. I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh.
Mr. Darcy's letter to Lady Catherine was more succinct:
I write with great joy to inform you of my engagement to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Though you have already made your feelings about such a union perfectly clear, I hope we might now relegate any hastily spoken words to the past. Know this is not the decision of a moment, but one long contemplated. Having honored me by accepting my offer, it is now my task to prove worthy of Miss Elizabeth’s affections.
Though Lady Catherine fumed upon reading these lines, they did not surprise her, Mr. Collins having scuttled to her side the day before with tidings of the engagement. She had then denied the report, insisting that she would hear such news from her nephew herself, hoping against hope that the letter she now held in her hand would never come. His behavior, upon being told that Miss Bennet had refused to comply with her demand never to enter into such an engagement, had determined the matter for Lady Catherine. Angrily she returned to Rosings, and angry she had remained, but never more so than now, when all possible excuse to continue avoiding telling Anne was lost.
“Get me Mr. Collins!” she bellowed, sending several servants into motion. Someone must feel the brunt of her rage, and the Rector was her man. After all, if he had just married the impertinent lady in question, none of this could have happened.
**********
The joy of communicating to Miss Bingley news of Mr. Darcy’s engagement fell to Miss Bennet, the person least likely feel the delight of such a task. Carefully penning a kindly response to her soon-to-be sister’s insincere congrat
ulations, Jane unknowingly wrote one of the most distressing letters Caroline Bingley had ever received. Rather than congratulating herself on never having suffered any greater loss than the marriage of a man she had presumptuously set her sights on, Miss Bingley gave in to the full force of her tragedy. It fell to Mrs. Hurst to comfort her and scold her into decorum, while her husband, upon witnessing the onslaught of hysterics, hid from the uproar at his club, where he was happy to be the first to share news of Darcy’s betrothal.
“I will NOT attend that wedding!” was Caroline’s muffled cry as she wept into her pillow.
“But you must! It would look so very particular if you did not! Mr. Darcy will think that you cannot bear to face him, and I’m surprised you would even consider giving Eliza Bennet the satisfaction.”
This thought brought a halt to the rhythmic sobs. “I care not. I’ll plead the headache.”
“A likely story! Besides, Caroline, think of the Pemberley connection! You and Miss Eliza are already on poor terms. If you wish to maintain the relationship, I suggest you start making amends!”