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Posted on Sunday, 28 January 2007
There was much that needed to be said, and wanted to be said, but could not be said. Bingley would not speak with Fitzwilliam present and Darcy preferred not to announce his engagement in his friend’s presence for fear that his cousin’s inevitable diatribe would further sink Bingley’s opinions.
And so they were silent all the way back to Netherfield. Not even amusement was to be had in reviewing the events of the evening when the discovery of Lieutenant Wickham, unconscious in the garden and suffering from hypothermia, had sent Mrs. Bennet into a nervous tizzy, certain he was dead. When the unfortunate truth was revealed, he was in fact not dead, she was thrown into another round of anxious debating over the necessity of calling the apothecary.
Three gentlemen had varying opinions regarding their hostess’s attentiveness to the apparently injured Lieutenant, to the point that Darcy almost left the room and Fitzwilliam was sorely tempted to haul the victim to his feet and prove his lustiness. Elizabeth’s distress in her mother’s weak judgement being thus exposed stayed Darcy’s exit while Bingley tested his friend’s patience by voicing sympathetic remarks about imagined injuries Wickham had sustained.
When they finally managed to soothe Mrs. Bennet’s tortured nerves long enough to see that the collection of soldiers bundled up their comrade and escorted him home, there was little time left for either Bingley or Darcy to spend with their respective ladies. Adding Colonel Fitzwilliam and the remaining Bennet sisters into the mix only served to further complicate matters.
Unbeknownst to the gentlemen, Mrs. Bennet’s distraction having been removed, she turned her attention to engineering romance between her chosen pairings still in the room. Somehow she managed to persuade Kitty and Lydia to vacate the room but how to create more private arrangements for the rest of the ladies and gentlemen and then facilitate her own exit was more challenging. She certainly had no intention of terminating her efforts, of course. Eventually, through discreet manoeuvring, the three couples were placed in comfortable settings far enough apart to permit intimate conversation. Thus satisfied that this important work was done, Mrs. Bennet excused herself from their company, luring the reluctant Mr. Collins away with an absurd request for his sage advice.
To Bingley the fuss may have been spared for all he noticed the others. He was fairly oblivious to everything but Jane Bennet. If there was any conversation in their corner it was purely one sided, for Jane did attempt a question or two but the responses were identical; a sigh accompanying a pitiful sound much like a calf calling to its mother.
Next to the fireplace Colonel Fitzwilliam tugged at his collar and stole a longing glance at the window embrasure through which Lieutenant Wickham had earlier fled. Not wishing to suffer the same fate, however, he schooled his thoughts, withdrew his gaze from temptation and focussed on the young lady seated beside him.
“Um....” Not having ever felt so awkward, Fitzwilliam searched his memory for remnants of their last discussion. “The London papers have some accurate accounts of recent skirmishes. Have you seen them?”
Mary’s voice was apologetic. “My father does not subscribe. I have occasionally seen the papers at Lucas Lodge. Sir William receives them all and when my mother takes us to visit Lady Lucas I look for them. Nobody seems to notice it is not a book in my hands.”
“How.... odd!” He could not imagine anyone not noticing Miss Mary and almost voiced the thought aloud. Fortunately the words that did emerge were less provocative, awarding him the satisfaction of seeing her smile nevertheless.
In the opposite corner Jane had seen her younger sister’s expression, wondering what type of man could make the solemn Mary look at him so tenderly. How strange it was; first Lizzy and now Mary, behaving so uncharacteristically and all because of.... men!
Turning her attention back to Mr. Bingley, Jane was reminded that her own behaviour was unquestionably good and proper. She could not be criticised for being too forward, like her youngest sisters, nor accused of letting her sense fly in the wind when a gentleman’s attentions were bestowed. No, there was nothing obvious in her response to him and yet he continued his moon-faced gazing unabated. Briefly, she imagined herself encouraging him in a manner most unladylike, then shook her head to send the wicked thoughts away.
“No? I mean to say... er... I am sorry if the idea does not appeal to you.”
Startled, Jane hastened to assure the gentleman that she had not intended a negative response at all and begged him to ask the question again.
“Well,” said Bingley, his smile returning, even if it was a little hesitant. “Would you care to go for a carriage ride tomorrow? Perhaps Miss Elizabeth would accompany us.”
Now this was an appealing offer! “Yes, that sounds like a delightful idea. Do you think Mr. Darcy will come, too?”
“Oh.” Bingley blinked. “I cannot say. I will ask him, of course.”
“That would be nice.” Jane motioned with her eyes to where the third couple was parked in a pair of chairs that had been drawn so close together as to appear to be one.
Again Bingley blinked, as if unable to believe what he was seeing. Could his friend be toying with yet another young lady’s feelings? Intolerable! The more he observed them together, the more his concern escalated. Whispering to Jane, he asked, “Are you sure your sister would appreciate his company?”
It was her turn to blink. With an effort not to appear forward, Jane simply said, “I think it is clear that she likes him.”
That was not a doubt that Bingley harboured. He had no desire to see his future sister... yes, future sister, hurt by the friend whose character he suddenly did not recognise. “I will speak with him about it later, then.” You may rest assured I will speak to him about it!
Jane’s dazzling smile sent any further thoughts scattering from his brain.
“Mr. Darcy....”
“Fitzwilliam,” he gently corrected.
Elizabeth teased him with a smile. “My mother may have discerned the direction of your interest, Fitzwilliam, else I doubt we would find ourselves thus situated. As a matter of fact, I’m certain that, if she could have arranged it, we each might have been ushered to separate parlours.”
“Separate parlours?” He appeared confused. “How would that have furthered her plans?”
“Silly,” she laughed. “One parlour for us, one for Jane and Bingley and another for... “ She motioned to the fireplace.
“Aha!” A fortuitous bit of distraction there, he thought. My cousin will have to mind his words more closely when he voices his objections to my marrying Elizabeth. “I can, at least, remedy the situation for ourselves. Come,” he said, standing and offering her his hand.
Elizabeth rose, taking his hand and following him through the room to the door. She studiously ignored the gazes turned their way, although she could feel her cheeks burning.
In an astonishing example of serendipity, Colonel Fitzwilliam was looking toward the window and announced, “I believe your carriage has arrived, Darcy.”
His hand had almost reached the door handle. “My carriage?” Disappointment was brief, however. “I shall have a word with my driver. Please excuse us.” Darcy ushered Elizabeth through the door ahead of him before anyone could say a thing.
“Has your carriage truly come already?” asked Elizabeth.
“I do not know,” responded the gentleman, guiding her smoothly down the hallway toward the front entrance. “It is just as likely that Fitzwilliam fabricated the idea to prevent me leaving the room with you. Instead, it gave me a perfectly reasonable excuse.” Proud of his manoeuver, Darcy’s smug expression quickly disappeared when he saw through the window that there was, indeed, a carriage in the drive and it was unmistakably his.
Elizabeth sensed his change of mood. It may have been the frown that creased his handsome features but most likely it was the mild expletive muttered under his breath. Either way, her sympathies were engaged and instead of waiting in the warmth of the house while he went out to speak with the coachman, she snatched up the wrap which was lying on the hall table, for Lydia was always leaving her belongings lying about, and bundled herself up to ward off the chill of the night air.
Darcy had few instructions to give, mainly that the carriage should remain where it was. The gentlemen would soon be out and they could begin the drive back to Netherfield. He was therefore quite surprised upon turning toward the house once more to come face to face with a most enchanting young lady.
“Miss.... Elizabeth,” he finished with a bow. “You will catch your death out here. Let me take you back inside.”
“Not yet.” She deftly avoided the hand reaching for her elbow. “How pretty the moon is tonight.”
Darcy looked up into the sky but there was nothing to be seen. He was about to point this out when she spoke again.
“You can see it better from over here,” she said and began to walk away from the house in the direction opposite the carriage and its observant attendants. Darcy obediently followed.
It was somewhere in the darkened gardens that some sense finally overtook him. “We should not be out here alone, Elizabeth. Your reputation would be in grave danger.”
“Is that all that is in danger, sir?”
“No,” he smiled but the effect was lost in the shadows. “However, it is by far the most valuable at this juncture.”
“Kiss me, Fitzwilliam, and I will allow you to take me back to the safety of the house.” Elizabeth held her breath, not entirely sure how her teasing would be received.
It seemed a long time before she could breathe again.
“Will that do, madam?” Darcy’s voice was raspy beside her ear.
“Oh, I think that will do very well, sir.” She added, impishly, “For now.”
“Tell me,” he began as they slowly made their way back to the front door. “Should I accustom myself to such spontaneous displays of affection or will your interest fade once you have gained the title of wife?”
Playfully, she slapped his arm. “You think me so shallow, sir? Some fortune hunter I would make, transparent as glass and nowhere near as polished.”
“Polished! My dear, you outshine even the –.”
“Do not say the stars, please!” Elizabeth laughed.
Joining in her amusement, Darcy shook his head. “I have said and done some ridiculous things of late but I hope enough sense remains to avoid such obvious faux pas as that.”
They had reached the front step and Elizabeth halted before they entered the house. “You need not fear anything I might think of your words or actions, Fitzwilliam. I know your heart is true. I would be remiss if I did not remind you that my mother, and more importantly, my father, are not so privileged to understand your character as well.”
Darcy acknowledged her warning with a nod. “Tomorrow I shall address your father,” he firmly pronounced. He would need the intervening time to prepare himself.
On the other side of the door they were startled to find Mrs. Bennet, clearly anticipating their entrance and with a light in her eyes to rival the north star. Darcy mentally berated himself for that comparison.
“You are not leaving now, Mr. Darcy?” She peered around him as if to confirm the presence of the carriage through the open door. “Lizzy, were you warm enough out there?” Something in her tone implied that the question was rhetorical.
“I regret to say that it has grown later than I realised and my friends and I must be on our way. Thank you, Mrs. Bennet, for your gracious hospitality. Not one of us was an expected guest in your home today yet your welcome was most warmly felt.”
The length of this speech, from a man who was known for responding in monosyllables rather than full sentences, sent the recipient into a flutter of emotion. “Why thank you, Mr. Darcy, for your kind compliments. You know you are welcome at Longbourn any time.”
“Mama, we should inform the other gentlemen that Mr. Darcy’s carriage is here,” interrupted Elizabeth before the flattery got out of hand.
Reluctantly, she agreed. The others greeted the news with as much enthusiasm as a trip to the dentist but within a few minutes the farewells were made and the gentlemen settled into their seats, trying not to look at one another. Instead, their minds were filled with images of the young ladies whose company they had just left behind, wondering what they might be doing and if their recollections of the evening were as pleasant.
This could not last forever, unfortunately, nor even for the length of the trip to Netherfield. Each of them had other thoughts which pressed upon their consciences and which must wait for a more private and comfortable venue to confront. As the carriage drew nearer to their destination the restlessness in the compartment was apparent in the shifting feet, shifting eyes and shifting bottoms.
The conveyance came to a stop, the door opened and they all looked at one another to see who would be the first to move.
Posted on Sunday, 4 February 2007
“Such a wonderful thing for our girls!”
Mr. Bennet turned away, sighing heavily. “Yes, and as I recall, you said that when Mr. Bingley first came into the neighbourhood. Now you have had the pleasure of a roomful of single young men this very evening. What is your prognosis?”
“We shall have three daughters married.”
“Only three? Why not four?” he sniffed.
Mrs. Bennet looked confused. “Four? Who have I forgotten?”
“Well, there is Mr. Bingley, of course. Did you prefer to leave Mr. Darcy to the wolves? Mr. Collins to the sheep; or would that be the donkey?” he mused, looking at a remote spot on the ceiling. “Mr. Darcy’s cousin had potential, I thought, but you may have other ideas. Were none of the officers to your liking? We might have gotten shut of all the girls at once.”
“Oh, you are too vexing! As attractive as they are, I cannot be so selfish and lay claim to them all. Frankly, not all of them are deserving of one of our daughters.” She set her nose high and pursed her lips.
Her husband nodded appreciatively. “Well, I never thought I’d live to hear you say that.” His own opinion was that no man was good enough for at least one of his daughters. The array that had presented itself that evening did not impress him at all. “Which of our girls will be the fortunate ones?”
“Jane, Lizzy and Mary,” was the prompt reply.
Wincing, he offered his own prediction. “Jane will say yes. Mary... well, that will certainly depend upon the gentleman’s talent for proposing, and Lizzy will decline.”
Mrs. Bennet had better information. She had no intention of sharing it yet, however. “She had best not if she knows what is good for her!”
“I dare say Lizzy has always known what is best for her. She does not need her parents to tell her what’s what.”
His wife’s resolution did not last long. “She has already accepted him.”
Mr. Bennet stared openly at her. “Forgive me. I seem to have a little trouble hearing. You were agreeing with me that Lizzy would not accept the man.”
“I was not. If she has not said yes she most certainly will tomorrow for if she does not then I will have a serious talk with her!” A handkerchief suddenly materialised and began waving under Mrs. Bennet’s nose. “Lizzy cannot expect to go around kissing men in the garden and then have it all come to naught!”
“She did what?” Mr. Bennet left his chair so quickly that it fell backward, crashing to the floor. “Surely you are mistaken, madam!”
Fussing with the sleeves of her gown, the good lady was in no hurry to contradict her story. “I believe I know a kiss when I see one... or two.” Then she clapped her hands together gleefully. “It is too wonderful but we must see that Mr. Bingley gets the opportunity to propose without interruption.”
“Bingley!” her husband nearly spat. “What has Mr. Bingley to do with Lizzy? Did you not have him destined for Jane all along?”
“But of course he will marry Jane! What are you talking about? Stop confusing me!” Impatiently, Mrs. Bennet flounced to the door. “Do not object to Lizzy’s engagement, Mr. Bennet. It doesn’t matter that you don’t like the young man. Lizzy will be secure and so will all of her sisters when she marries him.”
The objections were on his tongue but the door was closed before they made it past his lips. Mr. Bennet sat down heavily in his chair, casting a frown toward the fire burning in the grate. “Worthless young men, the lot of them. Jane and Bingley will do well enough together but Lizzy.... She cannot be serious about this marriage and if she is, then I will make her understand the folly of her decision.”
Fitzwilliam made it to the foot of the stairs before his cousin and stood, blocking his way. “Why don’t we have a drink before we join the others?” His arm was almost casually cast across the open space beside him, indicating the library where he and Bingley had earlier conversed. “We have some matters to discuss.”
Bingley appeared ready to join them but Darcy shook his head. “Perhaps you should ease your sister’s mind and inform her of our return.” The last thing he wanted was for Miss Bingley to interrupt them with her fawning attentions when she heard he was safe and sound at home.
His hesitation was momentary but Bingley agreed, waiting first to see that the others really did retreat to the library before he went in search of Caroline.
Darcy poured the drinks while his cousin attempted to address the most pressing subject.
“You know why I am here,” Fitzwilliam began. “Your letter put me in quite a panic, the expressions it contained. Am I too late to prevent you from making that horrible mistake you feared committing?”
Darcy could not help smiling. “I was wrong to write to you with such ideas. I was completely misled in my thinking. The only mistake I was in danger of making was losing the opportunity to gain the hand of the most excellent young woman I have ever met.”
“I am too late,” groaned his cousin. “Here, Darcy, could my father not repair any damage done? Come away with me and give yourself some time to think, outside the influence of her spell.”
Shaking his head again, Darcy chuckled. “You still do not understand, Fitzwilliam. I am past the point of any danger. Everything is settled; everything but her father’s blessing but that I shall seek tomorrow.”
“You do not care what I think, then? What of Georgiana or the rest of your family?”
“I do care, cousin. I care insofar as how their opinions will affect Elizabeth’s peace of mind. I do not wish to cause strife amongst my relations but if none are willing to accept my choice of bride then it is a cross they will have to bear, not I.” He was quite pleased with this speech and was amused to see the other man’s astonishment manifest itself in the dropping of his jaw.
“Are my ears deceiving me? Darcy, you have always been at leisure to have things your own way but how can you so simply dismiss all the concerns of your closest family?” Withdrawing the slip of folded paper from his pocket, the Colonel brandished it under Darcy’s nose. “Read what your sister has to say about it. She was in a quite a state when I left her, believe me!”
The note was short. So brief, in fact, that its recipient had no trouble discerning the intent behind it. Darcy laughed. His laughter grew until he was doubled over, the missive secure between two fingers. Annoyed, Fitzwilliam snatched the paper to see what it contained.
Groaning in disgust at his own foolishness in believing Georgiana would be of the same mind as himself, for she was but a child still, he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it toward the empty fire grate. The move was as effective as his the rest of his efforts.
Darcy retrieved it, smoothing the wrinkles and folding the paper once again. Pocketing it, he smirked in the Colonel’s direction and sat down in a nearby chair. Calmly, he sipped his drink and watched the frown form on Fitzwilliam’s face.
“How can you just sit there like that? You look like ....”
“Like what?” asked Darcy with one raised eyebrow.
“Smug like a highwayman who has made off with the Crown Jewels!” he finished with a pout.
“What I have won is far more valuable than mere jewels, my friend. Do not roll your eyes. I have not lost my wits. No, I have not! Stop grinning like that!”
Fitzwilliam could not help himself. The more he listened to the absurd remarks of his lovesick cousin, the more ridiculous it seemed. “If you could just hear yourself, Darcy, you would be grinning, too. What is it about these Misses Bennet that make men behave like fools?”
Darcy did not fail to notice the plural and was not above remarking upon it. “I willingly confess to my own foolishness since meeting Elizabeth but I cannot say that I noticed your behaviour was anything out of the ordinary.”
The Colonel flushed from the tips of his ears down to his... well, the most that could be seen was where his collar met his neck. “I was referring to you and Bingley. You can leave me out of this.”
“No, no. You brought it up and I will say that Miss Mary appeared to be of more than moderate interest to you. Still, you showed no ill effects. You did not behave the fool.” Darcy made a study of his fingernails. “There is always tomorrow, however.”
“Tomorrow I will be in London.” He did not look very confident.
Darcy shrugged. “As you say.”
“I do say and will thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself.” Looking more than a bit flustered, he added, “I mean, please do not speak of this to your Miss Bennet. I would not wish the other Miss Bennet to be... er...”
“Disappointed?” suggested Darcy.
“That is hardly likely to happen either way. Oh, stop putting words in my mouth!” Abruptly, Fitzwilliam began to pace to the window and back.
It was exactly the sight calculated to encourage Bingley to speak as soon as he entered. “Ah, you have taken him to task already. I say, Darcy, you have certainly been a bit of a dark horse. I never suspected anything all these years.”
“Suspected anything?” Darcy rose from his seat to his full height. “What does that mean?”
Suddenly reminded of just how aweful a figure his friend could present, Bingley put his indignation aside and concentrated on sounding stern. “I am sure I need not remind you of what I witnessed in this very room only a few nights ago. I would like to know what you intend to do about it. No, actually I want to know what you were doing tonight, giving Miss Elizabeth reason to believe you have an interest in her.” He crossed his arms and gave every appearance of waiting to hear a satisfactory explanation.
By this time Fitzwilliam had a keen interest in what was being said. “Well I have no idea what happened here. Perhaps you would care to fill me in, Bingley?”
Torn between embarrassment and honour, he worded his reply very carefully. “I entered the library thinking it was empty, only to find it was not. Darcy and a young lady were in here.”
The Colonel’s gaze turned to his cousin. “I do hope it was the same young lady of whom we were just speaking!”
Puffing out his chest indignantly, Darcy spoke with precision. “You two would paint me as a libertine with all of this nonsense. Can a man not just fall in love with a woman and be permitted to show himself the fool without being called out for it?”
“In love? Who is this lady, Darcy? I demand that you inform me at once! Such carrying on in my house and I see you flirting with Miss Elizabeth, my future sister! I will not stand for this!” Bingley’s face was red with the effort of his speech.
“Calm yourself, Bingley. The lady is one and the same and before you excite yourself further, I have proposed to her and been accepted. There! Are you satisfied now?” His chin came up proudly but the effect was that he looked down his nose at the other two men.
“Proposed?” his stunned friend repeated. “Marriage?”
At that Fitzwilliam hooted and slapped his thigh with one hand. “Do you really suppose Darcy would propose anything else?”
Bingley’s red face was due to embarrassment this time. “Well, no. It’s just... your behaviour was so unexpectedly out of character that I did not know exactly what to think.”
“I do not find it very comforting that you so easily doubt me after all the years of our acquaintance, Bingley. Perhaps you would do me the favour of answering my question?” Darcy’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. “As the future brother of Miss Bennet I now ask you what your intentions are toward the young lady. You have had some time to consider the situation and my advice to you. What is your decision?”
“I have not changed my mind, Darcy. I want to make Jane Bennet my wife and hope she shares this wish.” There was nothing in Bingley’s stance to indicate that his confidence had waned. If anything, it appeared to have grown stronger.
“Well then, that leaves only one more question.” Darcy turned his attention toward his cousin. “The Bennet ladies have two future brothers in this room. Bingley, as one of those brothers I advise that you join me in asking Fitzwilliam what designs he has upon our sister, Miss Mary Bennet.”
“Miss Mary....?” Bingley stood blinking, uncomprehending.
Not willing to be put on the spot, the Colonel simply laughed. “You two have stars in your eyes, seeing romances everywhere. I have no designs on your future sister and fully intend to leave for town in the morning. Now you can both rest easy.”
“She will be disappointed,” murmured Darcy to his friend. “Perhaps even more than disappointed.”
“Has he led her on?” Bingley exclaimed. “How did I not see what was happening? Fitzwilliam, you only arrived today and have already claimed the young lady’s heart? How callous can you be, leaving so quickly?”
“Nothing of the sort has occurred!” he objected. “I must insist that you stop this immediately. I will not be subjected to matchmaking from any parties but my own mother and sisters!” Before any further remarks could be made, he made a hasty retreat from the room, saying over his shoulder, “Please excuse me but I am quite tired from the day’s trials and shall retire immediately.” The door did not quite slam behind him.
“Miss Mary,” said Bingley in a stupefied tone. “Really?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Darcy settled into his chair once more. “They seemed to be getting along rather well this evening. Why not? It keeps him out of my business at any rate.”
Bingley was all wonderment again. “You are engaged to Miss Elizabeth! I would never have guessed she was the young woman in here with you... kissing you! I mean.. Darcy! Whatever possessed you?”
“If you do not know by now, Bingley, surely I am unable to enlighten you.”
Posted on Sunday, 8 April 2007
Mr. Bennet stopped his daughter on her way out for her morning walk. “Lizzy, I would like a word with you, please.” He gave her no time to become comfortable, for the matter was serious and unpleasant. “Your mother informs me that you are soon to be engaged, if not engaged already. Is this true?”
Panic took hold of Elizabeth. Had her mother spoken of Mr. Collins’ obvious intention despite her equally obvious unwillingness to hear him out? The hesitation was enough to encourage him to continue without interruption.
“I will be plain, Lizzy. I know what happened in the garden for she witnessed it and has related the details to me with great delight.” His frown marked a deeper line across his brow. “It pains me to know that you have been subjected to such improper behaviour for without a doubt the gentleman prevailed upon your most unwilling participation. No, do not thank me for taking up your cause in this. Your mother would have you marry him simply for the distinction of having one daughter well disposed of. It is evident that if the man is brazen enough to force himself upon you in the garden of your own home, then he is not to be trusted. I will not consent to any marriage even had he owned all the tea in China!”
This lengthy speech left Elizabeth so stunned by the content that she once again hesitated, trying to get her thoughts organised to present an argument that would surely persuade her father to give his blessing to the union.
Taking his daughter’s hand in his, Mr. Bennet sat down next to her, remorse written in the lines of his face. “You are a good girl, Lizzy, but I will not have you sacrifice your happiness to ensure that of your mother and sisters.”
“Papa,” she finally managed to say. “I know that impressions of him have not been complimentary, and that even I have said some unflattering things –.”
“Do not make excuses,” her father interrupted. “Not for him nor for yourself; certainly not for your mother. She may be willing to accept such an unequal match for you but I will not. The matter ends here, Lizzy.” He stood and, with one hand, smoothed the hair on her head. “You may tell him to spare the effort in asking me.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to further object but it was clear that he wanted to hear no more. Stunned, she left him to his port and sought the comfort of a familiar walk.
Early in the morning the Colonel attempted to slip out of the house undetected. He had spent a restless night, torn between the desire to escape and his duty to his cousin. By the time sunlight was visible on the horizon his resistance was low, the better part of valour most definitely retreat.
“I beg your pardon, Colonel Fitzwilliam!” a surprised Miss Bingley squeaked upon encountering the gentleman crossing the foot of the stairs.
He bowed politely. “Good morning, Miss Bingley. You are an early riser, too, I see.”
Hardly wishing to admit that her true purpose in appearing at that hour was to intercept Mr. Darcy before he could disappear again, she replied with a question. “Were you planning to ride before breakfast, sir?”
“Ride?” He nearly stuttered out the word before regaining control of his tongue and his thoughts. “No, the early rising is a habit.”
She glanced at his clothing, noting the breeches, boots and particularly the riding crop shifting from one hand to the other. “A habit. I see.”
Fitzwilliam quickly extended his arm. “May I escort you to the breakfast room, Miss Bingley?” The gesture was so impulsive that he neglected to make provision for the small whip in his hand. The tip of it smacked against the lady’s wrist.
There was a short squeak of surprise, then Caroline was rubbing her wrist to relieve the smarting. “Are you always so clumsy?” she demanded irritably.
“I am dreadfully sorry,” the Colonel apologised, all humility. The crop fell to the floor. “May I see the damage? It might need attention.”
Doubtfully, she placed her hand in his and watched as he examined the gradually reddening welt on the inside of her wrist. This close observation disturbed her. No-one had ever before stared at her person with such concentration! There was a moment of horrifying dizziness when the gentleman’s fingers touched the mark on her skin, but then it was gone just as quickly.
Releasing her, Fitzwilliam pronounced her fit for duty, extending his arm more carefully with his invitation to escort her to the breakfast room.
Miss Bingley carefully folded her hands behind her back and stepped forward, instead, to show him the way. She did not look back, which was just as well for she would not have known what to make of the expression on his face. It was equally fortunate that the breakfast room was empty but for two servants just bringing in the first of the cold dishes. They were not quick enough, nor disciplined enough, to cover their surprise at seeing the lady of the house appear so early. The clatter of a lid brought the butler out of hiding to quietly scold the culprit for his clumsiness.
Taking a seat, Caroline beckoned to the Colonel to sit down, hoping that he would select a chair a respectable distance away from her own. She was not so fortunate as that. However, before the gentleman could say more than a few words of inconsequential chatter their impromptu tête á tête was put to an end when the lady’s brother joined them.
“I say, Caroline, you are up early!” cried Bingley upon entering the room. He frowned slightly in Fitzwilliam’s direction. “Have you been alone for very long?”
Noting the direction of his gaze, Miss Bingley protested. “Oh, Charles, do not be so stuffy. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I encountered each other in the hallway, en route to breakfast.” Subconsciously, she rubbed her wrist. “Do not allow your imagination to get the better of you.”
“Just how would you know what I may be imagining?” He frowned again, more sternly this time and still in the direction of the Colonel.
“Pour yourself a cup of coffee and join us,” said his sister. “Perhaps we will have some civilised conversation after you have eaten something.”
He might have protested but did not. The sight of Fitzwilliam snickering behind one hand was enough to send Bingley’s aroused fraternal feelings into confusion and his tongue into silence.
“I believe,” began Caroline after a short pause, “that the weather is expected to be fine today. Perhaps an excellent day for a trip back to town.”
A fork clattered. “I just came back from there!” cried her brother. “Surely you do not expect me to drop everything and take you now?”
“Surely you do not expect me to travel there by myself!” she huffed. Primping her sleeves, Caroline continued. “I suppose Louisa may be able to talk her husband into accompanying us but really Charles, it is just too much!”
“You should have thought of it when I had gone a few days ago. I am not leaving again so soon and that’s final.” His gaze abruptly lit upon the Colonel, narrowing slightly as his thoughts churned. “What are your plans today?”
Fitzwilliam blinked. “Are you asking me to take your sister to town?”
“Certainly not! What a question!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Caroline had lost track of the spoonfuls of sugar she had added to her tea. Upon lifting it to her lips the taste was enough to cause her to gag. Her reaction brought both gentlemen to their feet, although neither had any idea what to do. Impatiently, she waved them away, finally regaining her voice enough to say, “Never mind about town. Another day.” The sound was very much a croak and caused Bingley to wince. “Sit down,” she croaked again.
They sat, neither looking at the other, and picked up their forks. Oblivious to each other, the two gentlemen attended to their breakfast in unison. Miss Bingley felt the urge to laugh at the sight but quelled it, knowing that would only provoke another round of coughing.
It wasn’t long before the rest of the household joined them. The conversation changed direction to include the newest members. Much to Miss Bingley’s distaste, the Bennet family occupied much of the dialogue between the three gentlemen near her.
“When do you plan to go to Longbourn today?” The question was posed by Colonel Fitzwilliam
and directed toward his cousin.
“I defer to my friend for he has business there this morning.” Darcy’s smile was more for himself, however, as he considered the welcome that would await his own arrival.
Bingley studied the other man curiously. “Do you not also have business.. I mean, were you not planning to speak with Mr. Bennet today?”
Clearing his throat, Darcy replied with a quick glance in Miss Bingley’s direction, “Mmm, yes.” Another glance, this time at his cousin, brought forth a sly comment. “Of course, Fitzwilliam may also find something to occupy his attention at Longbourn.”
“You mean someone, don’t you?” added Bingley.
“Your insinuations are completely unfounded,” the Colonel growled, “not to mention inappropriate in present company.” His smile was weak when he turned his gaze on the lady beside him.
She was oblivious to his meaning, however. “Oh, not another one!”
Mrs. Hurst ventured into the fray. “Of course, my darling. It must be the young Miss Lydia for you know how fond she is of red coats and officers.” She smiled brilliantly at the Colonel. “You have dazzled her, naturally, and now must return to claim her before some other officer catches her eye.”
“That presumes Miss Lydia to be a very fickle young lady. Hardly the kind that would endear herself to me,” sniffed Fitzwilliam unconvincingly.
Mrs. Hurst sniggered behind one delicate hand. “I do believe I am right.”
It was enough for the Colonel. “I was planning to return to London after breakfast but now I feel it is my duty to disprove all of you. I shall not be leaving and, instead, will go with Darcy and Bingley to the Bennet home to show you this talk is all nonsense.”
Bingley’s hands came together with enthusiasm. “I am finished. Shall we go now?” He looked over at his friend who had only just raised a spoon to his mouth. “Well? What do you say, Darcy?”
“I say it is too early to be visiting. Sit down and finish your toast, Bingley.” Although the temptation was strong, Darcy conquered the urge to throw down his spoon and rush to the stables. He would have preferred nothing better than to see Elizabeth so bright and early in the morning but the social ramifications of such a breech of etiquette were to be avoided. The unhappy alternative was to watch his friends and cousin as they consumed a meal that he considered devoid of any taste and wait for the clock to sound an hour that was amenable.
Elizabeth returned to a house filled with laughter. In spite of herself she poked her head around the door to the sitting room to find all of her sisters and their mother within. Of all the faces, Jane’s was the most solemn, looking severely harassed. There was no doubt in Elizabeth’s mind that her elder sister had been subjected to their mother’s favourite pastime and that Jane was suffering acute embarrassment as well as irritation. The plea in her eyes was obvious. Elizabeth sat down beside her.
“Well, Lizzy,” said her mother upon finally noticing the new arrival. “It is good that you have returned for we were just discussing what to do about Mr. Collins. Clearly he cannot stay here any longer. He is just in the way now! How can Mr. Bingley find a moment to propose to Jane with Mr. Collins hovering about, constantly and annoyingly?”
Constantly annoying was a description that fit more than one person at Longbourn, was Elizabeth’s first thought. Fortunately she had better control of her tongue than some. “Mr. Collins is not going to be in Jane’s way, Mama.” Before Mrs. Bennet could speak again, she added, “Nor is he likely to be anyone’s way. I saw him walking toward Meryton on my way back home.”
“Did he have his donkey with him?” giggled Kitty.
“Judge not lest ye be judged,” Mary warned.
Kitty’s forehead wrinkled. “What is that supposed to mean? I am not judging anyone, least of all Mr. Collins. He will find his own judgement without any help from us.”
“He has gone searching for it this morning, apparently,” chortled Lydia.
“Glass houses,” Mary muttered under her breath.
Elizabeth felt compelled to interrupt the ridiculous argument. “There was no donkey.”
“I wonder where it went,” mused Mrs. Bennet. The thought was irrelevant to the matter at hand, however. “Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Thank you Lizzy for that information. It is well timed, well timed indeed! Now, when Mr. Bingley arrives today you shall offer to show him the gardens, unless he has planned to take you out in the carriage right away. In fact, that might be a better idea. You should tell him you want to go out immediately, Jane. That will be perfect!” She became lost in her own musings and paid no attention to the objections of her daughters. “I must speak with Hill about dinner. Mr. Bingley will, of course, be staying. Oh, Lizzy!”
Startled to hear her name, Elizabeth was nevertheless quick to respond. “I am sure it will not be difficult to convince him to stay for dinner.”
“No, no,” her mother waved. “It is about Mr. Darcy that I am wondering. He is coming today, too, is he not?”
“Oh no!” cried Lydia. “I am not going to be foisted off on him, Mama! You cannot force me!”
“Hush girl! You do not enter into it. Lizzy is the one who interests him and he could not have chosen better.” The smug smile was turned fully on her new favourite daughter.
Elizabeth looked away and wished herself even farther away. That is, until she saw the carriage through the window. Then she didn’t know whether to sit still or spring from her chair to the door. Jane was fidgety, Mary like a statue, while Lydia practically ran from the room in a pique after Mrs. Bennet’s dismissal of her candidacy. Kitty pressed the creases from her skirt, then folded her hands in her lap.
“Well, girls,” announced their mother in an excited whisper. “This is it!”
The carriage was empty.
Colonel Fitzwilliam peered inside, looking back at his companions with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You do not suppose...” began Darcy.
“What should I suppose?” Bingley enquired. “Whose carriage is this?”
Fitzwilliam happily supplied the answer. “It belongs to our aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
“What on earth would she be doing here?”
“I can only suppose she got wind of my engagement to Miss Elizabeth and has come to settle the matter in her own way.” Darcy’s face contorted with the degree of enthusiasm he had for a meeting so described.
Bingley, however, shook his head. “It may be entirely coincidental. Did you not tell me just the other day that your aunt was in –?” His mouth stopped moving as both he and the Colonel watched Darcy actually run to the front doors of the house. Furthering their surprise was the rapidity with which he opened the door, not waiting to knock or be announced, and disappeared through the opening.
“I think we had better...”
“Yes,” replied Bingley as both sprang into a run themselves.
They were brought up sharply just inside the entrance by the presence of a large body blocking the path.
“Good morning.” There was a distinctly odd look in Mr. Bennet’s eye. “I believe you are expected,” he said, one arm extended in the direction of the morning room.
Fitzwilliam tipped his hat, then hurriedly removed it, extending his own arm to give his companion a reminder to take off his hat. Bingley yelped at the poke in the ribs but quickly complied.
As the two young gentlemen slipped away into the house, Mr. Bennet chuckled. Following them at a discreet distance was his aim. There was no sense in missing the initial reaction from the ladies within.
No disappointment was to be had. The traffic in the room was brisk. Ladies crossed one way, gentlemen the other, until pairs had been formed and the two matrons stood alone at one end, surveying the arrangement. Mr. Bennet studied the scene, wondering what the two women could possibly have in common to end up together as if they had been lifelong friends. He had long known his wife’s character; a frivolous woman but one with her heart in the right direction even if her sense failed to follow. Yet the other lady, only recently met, was as unlikely a comrade as ever there could be. Imperious was the best descriptor, and as stubbornly opinionated as one might expect with a nose so highly elevated. The games were about to begin. Mr. Bennet quickly took a seat where a full view of the action was available.
Mrs. Bennet and her newfound friend had their heads together in a most serious discussion. If the sight had not been so ludicrous, Mr. Bennet might have been concerned. There was nothing to fear with this pair, however. Whatever misdeeds they were planning could not affect him. He was steadfast in his decision and not even the illustrious Lady Catherine de Bourgh would dictate to him! This thought gave him indigestion, however, and only the timely entrance of Hill with a gaggle of kitchenmaids behind her, all carrying trays laden with pastries, fruit and teapots, could restore his appetite. Once the food was stationary, the young ladies began to pour, the young men gathering about them like bees at sweet flowers. The thought of watching such behaviour was tiresome to Mr. Bennet, his own days of like activities long behind him. Gathering up a cup of tea and a plate of delicacies, he fled to his library before his wife and her accomplice could embroil him in their plot.
Close on his heels was someone else who was not only persistent but of able assistance when the door was before him. Mr. Bennet saw the hand on the knob and a low voice quietly utter an ‘allow me, please’. Once inside the room he directed his guest to a chair, casting a quick, longing glance at the bottle of port on the side table.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he finally asked.
“Thank you, no.”
Silence.
“What can I offer you, then?” Mr. Bennet was hesitant until an idea struck him. It did not appeal. “You’ve come about Lizzy.” There it was; surprise. It was somewhat satisfying to have surprised the cocky young man. “You need not elaborate. You can offer me nothing in this exchange.”
“You have not yet heard my proposal,” a perplexed Darcy said.
“Oh, I am sure you will tell me it is one I cannot, or should not, refuse! This is my Lizzy you’re bartering for, however. The man who is fortunate enough to have her will be worthy enough to win her. I do not believe that to be the case in this instance. Nor do I believe you have anything to say that will alter my opinion.” The challenge was upon the table. Mr. Bennet prepared himself for the inevitable argument. The younger man appeared to be chewing over an answer.
Darcy’s sigh told little of the exasperation he felt. “Your daughter’s opinion means nothing to you, then? Has she no choice in this?”
“Choice? Some think she has no choice. I am giving her a choice by refusing my consent to this charade.”
“But she had already made her choice,” explained Darcy, patiently. “Are her wishes not deserving of your respect?”
Bristling, Mr. Bennet leaned across the desk’s surface. “Not if the man she has chosen is unworthy of my respect.”
Darcy blinked, his figure straight and tall. “If you would allow me to point out, sir, your daughter is strong minded. She may defy your decision and would be within her rights to do so.”
“Rights? What are you talking about, rights? She is my daughter and will do as I tell her.” A short pause ensued as Mr. Bennet’s gaze narrowed and he shook a finger at the other man. “I can well imagine you would feel the same way regarding your young sister.”
A deep flush overspread Darcy’s cheeks. He had never had cause to order Georgiana about nor could he imagine doing so. She was not the sort of girl who required such heavy handed discipline. At the same time, however, he knew all too well the kind of disappointment felt when she had come very close to making an irreversible, terribly wrong decision. “I believe you may rest assured that Miss Elizabeth is not a foolish young lady who takes this subject lightly,” he finally said.
“Unlike some of her sisters?”
Darcy nodded. “Youth may excuse some things, sir, but not all.” He swallowed and flushed again, the image of Elizabeth’s calves exposed in the Netherfield library rising up from nowhere.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Bennet chuckled. “You are no stranger to the follies of youth, Mr. Darcy?”
“If I may be so bold, sir, none of us can claim to be free of behaving foolishly at one time or another in our lives.”
“That is certainly true.” With a grimace he continued, “Thoughtless, rash and inconsiderate is not the same, however.”
Darcy felt a shiver of apprehension. “Do you refer to something in particular, sir?”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “Presumptuous, dishonourable actions. A kiss in the garden.”
“The garden? It was not only in the garden,” announced Darcy, chin high. “At Netherfield as well, during the ball.”
“What!” Mr. Bennet was on his feet in a flash. “At the ball? And no offer was made at that time?”
“I –.”
The older man was pacing the floor, however. “What next? A daring foray under my very roof?”
“Certainly not!”
“Yet here you stand, urging me to willingly send my daughter into the clutches of a man who would engage in such deceitful practices,” Mr. Bennet accused. “Would you offer your own sister in this manner?”
His thoughts in turmoil, Darcy said the first thing that came to mind. “If I was assured that the gentleman’s motivations and feelings were honourable and true, then I could have no objection.”
“Hah! Well, that is something yet to be proven to me and until it is, Elizabeth will not be receiving my permission, nor my blessing.”
“Is that your final word, sir?”
“It is.”
Darcy stood, his tall form imposing in the confined space. “Then I shall know how to act.”
“Am I to understand that you will undertake to prove the worthiness –?”
“Yes.” Suddenly the sense of command resurfaced. “You will be in no doubt of how completely appropriate this match will be. I shall not rest until you are convinced.”
Mr. Bennet was left with a slight uneasiness at the confidence displayed by Darcy. After all, he was well aware of his own weakness in the area of giving in when subjected to so much begging and whining. How long would he be able to hold out under the combined efforts of all parties?
“His mind is made up. He will not listen.” Elizabeth sighed in frustration, her pleasing figure rising and falling with the effort.
With the concentrated efforts of Mrs. Bennet, three young couples managed to find time alone. Relatively alone. The garden was spacious enough for private conversation but not privacy from curious eyes.
Darcy observed Elizabeth in silence for a moment. “What are you saying? Would you go against your father’s wishes or do you prefer to wait until I may win his approval?”
“I would rather his approval be gained than his surrender under the onslaught of my mother’s pleas.” Elizabeth’s concern was visible in not only her expression but in the way she worried at the lace of her sleeve with her fingers.
Stilling her hands with his own, Darcy squeezed them gently. “To be honest, I do not care how your father’s consent is obtained. If need be, I would do without if you agreed to marry me without his blessing.” His smile softened the implications of his remark.
“I never imagined he would object this strongly. Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “What recourse would we have? What sort of scandal would it bring upon both our families if we married in that fashion?”
“You shall have exactly the wedding you wish, my dear. There will be no scandal apart from what would normally be expected by my choosing a lady from outside my social sphere. We are both willing and able to withstand that.” A quick glance around assured him that there were no immediate onlookers and so Darcy quickly pressed her fingers to his lips. “I must away to London, to my solicitor, if I am to prove to your father that my intentions are honourable and my love for you solid and true. You shall want for nothing, I promise.”
Smiling shyly, Elizabeth teased, “My mother will be pleased, no doubt. As for my father, he cannot possibly continue in his objection under the joined forces of our determination.” Impishly, she added, “How much pin money did you say I could have?”
“Cheeky girl!” laughed Darcy. “I am eager to inform Georgiana of our understanding as soon as possible. She will no doubt wish to return with me and meet you for herself.”
“She does not hold the power to change your mind, does she? What if she does not like me?”
“Who could not like you?”
“I recall a certain young gentlemen who found me not handsome enough at one time.”
“He was clearly not in possession of his faculties, Miss Bennet. Do not assume the fault was yours.”
It was a perfect moment for an expression of their feelings but unfortunately a distraction was inevitable. It came in the form of an excited Mr. Bingley and Jane.
“I have done it!” he announced in a hushed voice as they appeared behind the bench on which the other couple was sitting. “And Jane has accepted me!”
“Congratulations!” said Darcy, not too put out by the interruption. “May I be the first to wish you joy, Miss Bennet?”
“Thank you,” she replied, very softly.
“Jane, this is wonderful!” Elizabeth warmly embraced her sister. “Mama will not know what to do first. We shall throw her into such turmoil!”
That was a sobering thought, though not so sober that Bingley forgot his next mission.
“I must speak with your father now,” he managed to say above the others’ laughter.
“Yes, you must,” agreed Darcy. “Best do it now before anyone else hears the news.”
“You are absolutely right.” Bingley grabbed Jane’s hand and kissed it soundly. “I will not be long.”
They watched him skip off toward the house, Darcy silently wishing him luck. Mr. Bennet had turned out to be a more difficult mark than he had anticipated. He truly hoped that his friend was not confronted with any obstacles to his happiness. Miss Bingley would be enough to bear.
There was another commotion heard behind them. Jane and Elizabeth looked at one another.
“Mary,” they said, too late in raising hands to cover their mouths. The word had escaped.
Posted on Sunday, 27 May 2007
Lydia had seen it all from her bedroom window; the pacing of Mr.Bingley in the garden before he fell to his knee and gazed at Jane, all adoration. It had made Lydia giggle.
Then she turned her gaze to Lizzy and her suitor. Yes, their mother had been right. Mr. Darcy was definitely bestowing a great deal of attention on her sister.
“That suits me just fine,” she said to the distant couple. “You can have her Mr. Tall Dark and Miserable. I prefer a gentleman who knows how to speak to a lady, who dances and... what’s this?” Her nose pressed against the glass in her effort to see the figures in the farthest part of the garden. “It’s not Mary!” She moved away, then pressed her nose on the pane again. “It is Mary! Well, she’s not going to land a redcoat before I do!”
Flouncing away from the windowseat, Lydia raced from the room and down the stairs in her most ladylike manner. She narrowly missed colliding with Mr. Bingley, his head in the clouds and an oblivious glaze in his eyes. Outside, she set off down a little used pathway which served to allow her a route unseen and relatively unheard had she taken care in her footfalls. Fortunately for her, the other garden visitors were well established in their own distractions. Thus it was, when Lydia arrived on the scene, her quarry was surprised and Mary yelped at the touch on her shoulder.
Mr. Bennet was only too happy to bestow his blessing on the union of his eldest daughter and Mr. Charles Bingley. A cheerful, harmless young gentleman would perfectly suit his cheerful, harmless young Jane. The ecstatic lover withdrew as quickly as he had appeared, and more quickly than he had managed to utter his request, leaving Mr. Bennet to reflect on the two very different interviews he’d conducted that morning.
His next visitor was less well received.
“I shall give you a moment of my time now,” Lady Catherine de Bourgh announced upon her entrance, as if the gentleman had requested an audience.
As tiresome as was her presence, Mr. Bennet could not allow any opportunity for amusement to go unspent. “Quite coincidentally I have a moment, as well.”
“Let us get to the point.” The dismissive tone was not unintentional and seemed more natural than practised. “Mr. Collins is the fortunate recipient of the living under my care and just happens to be your cousin. I have impressed upon him the great benefit to be had in the acquisition of a wife.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet, suppressing a snort before he raised a quizzical eyebrow and asked, "And just whose wife do you suggest Mr Collins acquire?"
That gave the great Lady pause. Only for a moment, however. Shaking her head, she continued on unabated. “This in mind, he came to your home with the intention of repairing past injuries by ensuring the future security of your family. I advised him against such a sentimental notion but he felt obliged to bestow this opportunity upon his cousins first.”
“How magnanimous of him.”
Lady Catherine inclined her head in acknowledgement. “He has learned much from me since arriving at Hunsford.”
Mr. Bennet bit his lip. “Why have you come to see me, then? Certainly he needs none of my advice.”
“No, no... although there may be some that... no, I have come to discuss the terms.” She settled herself regally in the chair.
“Terms?” The gentleman stared at her incredulously. He wondered how much this woman was prepared to offer in exchange for his daughter. Suddenly it seemed as if all the fates were conspiring against him. Mr. Bennet sat down heavily in his chair. “Well,” he finally said in a quiet voice. “Let us get down to business, then.”
Darcy could not decide whether to laugh or scold his own cousin for causing such an uproar. The distress of Elizabeth and Jane was not to be ignored, however. Their sisters’ behaviour brought them much mortification. Even now, in the presence of so many, did it continue. Lydia, in all her youthful recklessness, was persistently insistent that she had seen the Colonel first and that Mary had no business trying to steal him away.
To her credit, Mary remained a calm and passive voice in the storm. Her words were far from consoling, however, if her younger sister had but the wherewithal to comprehend. While the two young women contested, Fitzwilliam stood uncertainly under the elms. Jane at last took pity upon him, for no-one else would, circling around the edges of the undefined circle and coming to stand next to him.
“Have you any sisters, Colonel?” she asked in all innocence.
He peered at her in surprise at the question. “I do.”
She nodded sagely. “Then you are no doubt familiar with the silliness that young girls can exhibit.”
Casting his memory back, Fitzwilliam was at a loss to dredge up any specific examples from his own family but did not question Miss Bennet’s assertion. “I am younger than my sisters,” he supplied.
“There is hope, then.”
“I beg your pardon?” he gulped, casting a glance in the direction of Mary and Lydia.
Jane looked at him quizzically. “That they will outgrow it.”
“Oh.” The Colonel was only somewhat relieved. There was no chance they would outgrow it in the next five minutes. He winced at a particularly pointed gesture made by Lydia.
“Fitzwilliam,” called Darcy, suddenly at his back. “You will have to decide this.”
“Me?” He peered suspiciously at his cousin. “Decide what exactly?”
Darcy inclined his head toward the young ladies. “The argument, of course. They cannot both be right.”
“They could both be wrong,” muttered the Colonel.
Darcy drew him further aside to rumble in his ear, “Then what were you doing out here in the garden with Miss Mary?”
“I was outflanked and you know it!”
“It happens to all of us, my friend,” snorted Darcy, slapping his hand on Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. “Come now, are you going to let the ladies continue on in this completely inappropriate manner or will you do the gentlemanly thing?”
“What’s this?” Bingley laughed, joining them in time to hear the last words. “Fitzwilliam a gentleman?”
Grumbling irritably, the Colonel walked away to approach the young ladies. “Miss Lydia,” he said, causing her to pause with one hand poised to pinch her sister’s plait. “Really, there is no reason to excite yourself. I assure you, the red coat does nothing at all for my figure.”
Bingley raised an eyebrow toward his friend. “Pray, tell me that England is not relying upon his diplomatic prowess.”
“Allow the King some credit,” chuckled Darcy.
“You are right, of course.” Satisfied, Bingley turned back to watch the rest of the drama unfold but was distracted by a tap on his arm and noticed his friend regarding him with a most serious countenance.
“You spoke with Mr. Bennet?”
“I did.” Bingley grinned with the recollection this brought.
Darcy’s brows drew together slightly. “Everything went well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Good. Good.” Darcy thought in silence for some minutes, blissfully incognizant of the farce playing out in front of them.
“What did your aunt have to say about your engagement?”
“What do you mean? I did not speak with her,” replied Darcy.
“As I left Mr. Bennet, Lady Catherine was on her way to see him. I naturally supposed that she would be speaking on your behalf,” explained his friend.
His face draining of all colour, Darcy looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “Excuse me,” he hastily said, moving away at a brisk pace.
Bingley, a little confused but happily secure in his own newly approved state, nodded succinctly. “Of course.”
It was most unexpected when the door burst open. No one was more surprised than Darcy, who beheld his austere relation in a position indicating great mirth, a condition previously unknown to have ever occurred. In addition to this oddity, yet another fantastic sight was Mr. Bennet, quite obviously refilling his guest’s drinking glass.
“Aunt Catherine!” Darcy cried without thinking.
She looked upon him with a glowing smile. “My dear nephew. You are just in time.”
“In time for what?” he asked with great trepidation.
“We have completed arranging the pecuniary details of Mr. Collins’ engagement. You may witness the document.”
“Mr. Collins?” Darcy was dumbfounded. “You have decided on the arrangements? How is this possible?”
Chuckling, Mr. Bennet poured out another glass of port and handed it to the younger man. “Your confusion is perfectly understandable. It was not so many minutes since you were in here pleading a case on behalf of the gentleman.....”
“I was not,” declared Darcy, unheard.
“... to be immediately followed by Lady Catherine, although she had a slightly different approach. However, as your astute aunt pointed out to me, Mr. Collins is my heir, which means that I hold the dubious honour of being head of this family due to the unfortunate demise of my cousin’s parents. In this role, I assumed responsibility for settling Mr. Collins’ desired goal, to the great delight of us all.” He finished by touching his glass to Lady Catherine’s whereupon they each drank down the contents.
Darcy was still perplexed, unable to make sense of the narrative. “Does Mr. Collins know that his future has been thus arranged?”
“I have not yet seen him this morning,” admitted his aunt. “I am, however, perfectly aware of what he requires in his wife.”
“What he requires.... but you do not mention what he may want. What if your choice does not suit him?” Darcy was still trying to work out the identity of the prospective bride. It was not Miss Bennet, that much was clear. Bingley had successfully negotiated that young lady’s future with himself.
Lady Catherine sat tall and straight, sniffing disdainfully. “My choices always suit Mr. Collins, as he will inform you. Do not doubt me, nephew. I know what is best.” Her eyes narrowed and she studied him closely. “As a matter of fact, there is a matter of your future that we need to discuss. I am feeling confident with having achieved this resolution so easily. Why don’t we settle your engagement now while we are here together? Mr. Bennet will agree, I’m sure.”
Nothing could make that gentleman disagree with the suggestion. Lady Catherine had been thoroughly entertaining thus far. Whatever plans she envisioned for her nephew could only add to Mr. Bennet’s enjoyment. How amusing it would be to watch the stuffy Mr. Darcy wriggling before his relation! Mr. Collins wasn’t the only embarrassment the world had to offer a family. “Please consider my library at your disposal. An important matter such as this should not go neglected.”
“You see?” a justified Lady Catherine purred. “Now sit down, Darcy. I cannot discuss this with you hovering over me like that.”
“I do not hover, aunt Catherine,” huffed Darcy, “and I have no intention of discussing the subject at this time or at any time!”
“Don’t be stubborn, nephew. You are not getting any younger. Surely you have had enough time to ... well, to behave in the fashion that young single men behave. No, I do not want to hear any of it! It is all to be in the past and have no bearing on your future.” Once again she pointed to the empty chair beside her. “Now sit down.”
Resigned, Darcy put his glass down on the desk with great care, inhaled deeply but did not sit. He simply asked, “Which lady is to be so honoured by this match with Mr. Collins?”
“Mr. Collins?” His aunt shook her head dismissively. “You need not concern yourself with Mr. Collins. All of that has been settled and none of it to do with you.”
“On the contrary, you will see that it does concern me. You have chosen for Mr. Collins and you intend to choose for me. I must inform you, however, that I have already made my choice and it does not require your input nor your approval.” Darcy brought his feet together to stand straight and as immoveable as a tree. “Regardless of how Mr. Collins views your selection process and his intended bride, I must tell you that I will not blindly accept the woman you decide is the right material for my wife. I am far better acquainted with my own needs and desires, something you could not possibly be privy to knowing.”
Lady Catherine recoiled in disgust at the use of the word ‘desires’. “Darcy, I must caution you on relying too heavily on those primitive responses to the female sex. That is not to be trusted when it comes to the important issues such as ensuring that you have an heir for your estate! Any woman can give you a child but to produce a proper heir, a son to inherit your property and fortune, you must be more selective!”
Oh, this conversation was much better than Mr. Bennet had expected! Lady Catherine was quickly becoming apoplectic with indignation while Mr. Darcy’s face had undergone such a transformation of colour that he might soon be in need of brandy.
“Aunt Catherine, do not doubt that I am aware of the need for an heir to my estate. Equally certain you can be that this is not my primary concern in selecting the lady who will be Mistress of Pemberley. We may, of course, eventually be so blessed but I could not be happy without a lady I could respect and admire for her person above all else.”
“Respect? Admiration? What is this, Darcy? Have you lost all sense of decency?”“
“Decency! There is nothing indecent in respecting one’s wife,” he informed his aunt. “The lady who has honoured me with her acceptance of my offer will be given all the respect that is her due, not only as my wife but as my partner in life.”
It was as if Darcy had sprouted a second head and begun pontificating blasphemies. Both Lady Catherine and Mr. Bennet were silent, staring at the young man while their own mouths dropped open in amazement. Had they backed away in horror at the strangeness of his declaration it could not have been any less surprising. The fact that his aunt was speechless was a miracle not lost on Darcy. He leapt upon the moment while it was still his.
“I ask you again, who is the young lady that you have decreed destined to serve Mr. Collins as the mistress of his household and mother of his children?”
The air was rent with a piercing scream.
Posted on Sunday, 3 June 2007
Behind the closed doors the noise continued; a high pitched wail not unlike the caterwauling of a feline in pain. Those individuals lined up outside the barrier covered their ears and only cautiously released the pressure to occasionally check for a diminution in volume. Through the inhuman sound could be determined the intermittent word. Words such as ‘never’ and ‘ugly’ as well as ‘torture’ and ‘violation’ were accompanied by the more regularly heard ‘nerves’ and ‘vexing’.
“That will do,” boomed a voice from behind the crowd.
The servants jumped in their haste to pretend they were only about their usual business when caught in the act. The strange squealing continued from the sealed room despite the authoritative tone of the new arrival.
“What on earth is that?” With a grimace, the gentleman shooed away the maids and reached for the door handle. Finding it locked, he tapped upon the surface and waited for a response. It took another five raps with his fist before the noise quieted and the knob finally rattled. Once the wood partition swung inward, there were two faces peering curiously outward.
“Oh my goodness!” cried Mrs. Bennet upon seeing who it was. “Quickly! Fetch me my salts. I am going to have a....” and she promptly fell to the floor in a faint.
“Please, allow me,” said the gentleman, quickly stooping to gently lift the fallen lady in his strong arms and carry her to the nearby settee. With great deliberation he placed her upon the surface and took her hand in his. Suddenly aware of being observed, he cleared his throat manfully and said, “Her pulse is strong. That is a good sign.” The young woman behind him merely nodded and so he directed her thus, “If you would please bring a glass of water....”
Kitty stared for a moment, perhaps blinded by the high polish of the brass buttons on his bright red coat, then nodded obediently and yelled out the door for Hill to bring some water. The houseservant was dutifully quick, appearing before the last words of the request had finished echoing in the hallway.
“There you go, sir,” she breathed awefully.
He took the glass and put it the lady’s lips. Mrs. Bennet sipped the liquid, coughed daintily, and fluttered her eyelids. The officer smiled warmly.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied in a husky voice. “No, you are not dreaming. I am here. I have returned.”
She traced his cheek with one hand. “I must be dead, then.”
His laugh was like a rockfall. “Then you are the most beautiful corpse I have ever beheld.”
Mrs. Bennet noticed her daughter watching the exchange. “Kitty, go and get your sisters. There is someone they must meet.”
Nodding her head again, Kitty left the parlour to seek out her siblings in the gardens.
“What on earth is that?” cried Darcy, ready to charge out the door.
“Pay no heed,” Mr. Bennet replied, waving his hand in dismissal. “That would most likely be my wife informing our daughter of her engagement.”
“Highly emotional type,” commented Lady Catherine.
“Both of them, yes,” amended Mr. Bennet.
Darcy sighed. “Which of your daughters has been consigned to such a fate, sir?” He was at least confident that it was not Jane or Elizabeth. Bingley had secured the former while the latter would never create the scene now being heard. Mary had been in the garden with Fitzwilliam and so that left the youngest two Misses Bennet from whom to choose. “I presume it to be either Miss Catherine or Miss Lydia.” As soon as the words were out he knew the answer. Of course it had to be Miss Catherine! The name alone assured that.
“Lydia would never suit a clergyman,” explained the older man. “Kitty, however, could be taught a little restraint.”
“She is a dear young girl,” smiled Darcy’s aunt. “Mr. Collins will be grateful indeed.”
“Grateful,” repeated Darcy. “What of the young lady’s reaction?” He looked at the closed library door and willed it to open, to admit the entrance of someone with enough sanity to make these two listen to reason.
“Oh, she will get over it.” Mr. Bennet fell silent as they all heard a strange voice rise over the dissonance, followed by loud thumping on a wooden surface. “What on earth is that?” he cried, rising to his feet.
Darcy was to the door first and crossing the hallway before the others could move.
Kitty was tugging on Elizabeth’s arm. “I must speak with you now, Lizzy!”
“Can it not wait five minutes, Kitty? As you can see, Mary and Lydia need help first.” This particular sister was insistent, however, and Elizabeth was forced to leave Jane to referee.
Kitty pulled Elizabeth as far away as she dared before beginning her own tale of woe. “So you see, Lizzy, I cannot stay here any longer. Mama will make me marry that horrible cousin of ours and surely you understand why I refuse! Will you ask your Mr. Darcy to help me?”
“Kitty, this is all so unexpected. Surely it is only Mama’s imagination carrying her away again,” Elizabeth attempted to soothe her young sister. “Papa would never allow it.”
“Oh, but he has!” wailed Kitty. “Papa and Lady Catherine are in the library as we speak, drawing up the settlement and signing away my life!”
Elizabeth could not believe what she heard. How could their father do such a thing to one of his own children? “Come with me,” she said, firmly taking Kitty’s hand and marching over to their other siblings. “Lydia, be quiet for once in your life. Mary, stop sermonising. Jane, we have another dilemma to resolve.”
Bingley was immediately before them. “How may I be of assistance?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward. “I am at your service, ladies.”
“Where is Mr. Darcy?” whined Kitty.
The two gentlemen looked at each other in disgust. “What are we? Chopped liver?” they asked.
“Oh, don’t be so selfish,” scolded Elizabeth. “We have a problem and time is of the essence. How quickly can we arrange to travel to London?”
“London?”
“How soon do you want to leave?” The Colonel got straight down to business. “I do not believe Bingley’s carriage is large enough if you all wish to go. However, we may borrow my aunt’s if need be. Who is to go?”
“Well, Kitty. And, um... I should go with her,” Elizabeth decided.
“I’ll go with you, too,” said Jane.
“Then I shall accompany you, my dear,” Bingley pronounced. “I must be assured of your safety.”
“I must go, of course,” said Fitzwilliam. “It is my aunt’s carriage, after all.”
“Me, too!” Mary quickly added.
“You aren’t leaving me behind,” snapped Lydia, glaring at her sister with suspicion.
“That is seven. The ladies may ride in the carriage. Bingley, you and I shall go on horseback.”
Bingley nodded. “When will you be ready to go?” he asked Elizabeth.
“I think we must take no more than ten minutes to get our things together,” she told her sisters. “Kitty, I’ll pack you some clothing. Colonel Fitzwilliam, would you please take Kitty to the carriage and see that she is settled in?”
He nodded and extended an arm toward the young woman. Kitty ignored Lydia’s hissing and Mary’s searing glance, wrapped her arm securely about the gentleman’s and allowed herself to be led away.
The rest of the sisters started for the house, Bingley leaning in close to Jane to whisper, “Why are we going to London?”
“I am not exactly sure but if Lizzy says we should go, then go we must,” she whispered in return.
If it was good enough for Jane, it was good enough for him, Bingley reasoned.
After narrowly avoiding a collision with a blur that must have been Kitty Bennet, Darcy arrived at the parlour door to find it open and the figures inside positioned in a rather compromising manner. Concerned that it might be Elizabeth imposed upon by some unknown assailant he charged forth, taking the man by the shoulder and turning him around. Recognising the lady, he stumbled backward in surprise.
“Mrs. Bennet!” everyone seemed to cry at once.
Mr. Bennet managed to speak the next words before anyone else. “Wallace? How...? You went to India! You were eaten by a tiger!”
The other man regarded him thoughtfully. “The report of my death was an exaggeration. I had no idea it had come so far. However, I was on a mission to a remote area of the country and only recently returned to find that I was no longer considered among the living.”
“This changes everything,” said Mr. Bennet in a quiet voice.
“What do you mean?” Lady Catherine enquired. “Who is this man?”
Stately and grandly, Mr. Bennet performed the introduction. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh, may I present to you my cousin, Wallace Collins, father of William Collins.”
“Is this true?” she demanded of the new acquaintance.
The elder Mr. Collins bowed regally. “It is indeed. Do you know my son?”
“He is the curate of my parish,” she sniffed.
“A curate!” his father remarked in astonishment. “I had no idea. Is he a good one?”
Mr. Bennet disguised his snort with a cough.
“I granted him the living,” Lady Catherine replied as if that declaration was sufficient evidence. “Your arrival is fortuitous for Mr. Bennet and I have just completed the necessary agreements for Mr. Collins’... your son’s marriage.”
Wallace Collins felt his mouth drop open. “His marriage? No, no. Bennet, I must have a word with you before anything else is decided.” He looked at his cousin expectantly.
Mr. Bennet shook his head clear of the cobwebs, a spider or two flying into the nearby flower vases, and extended an arm in the direction of his library. Once again, it seemed, he was to retreat to his sanctuary to discuss his offspring, or perhaps this time it would be his cousin’s offspring. He could only hope.
“Excuse me,” said Darcy in a firm voice. “Should the younger Mr. Collins not be informed that his father is here, that he is alive?”
“Oh, what a notion! Of course,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Thank you for offering to do that, Mr. Darcy, although I am not at all certain where he may be found at the moment. Perhaps one of my girls will know. They are all out in the garden, I think. I mean, I sent Kitty out there a minute ago to bring them all back inside. Where is that girl?”
Having no intention of going in search of the missing clergyman, Darcy was more than willing to go in search of Elizabeth. “I shall see what is delaying them.” He followed the elder gentlemen from the room, grateful enough to leave his aunt and future mother-in-law behind him, even if they were together. Despite the proximity to Mr. Bennet and the senior Mr. Collins, Darcy was not paying attention to their conversation on the short jaunt across the hall. It was a shame, for their topic would have been of concern to his lovely bride-to-be if only he had the sense to eavesdrop.
Two turns about the garden was all it took to convince Darcy that it contained no Bennet ladies, nor his cousin and friend. He stood in the middle of the lawn, mind furiously turning over the possibilities. Had they gone to Netherfield? Had they walked to Meryton? Why had Elizabeth not conveyed a message to him? It was extremely puzzling.
Then he noticed the absence of Lady Catherine’s carriage, which was only more mystifying.
A sudden rustling of leaves behind him and the snapping of twigs underfoot gave him a sense of relief. Finally, the objects of his search had returned from wherever they had gone. Darcy eagerly advanced upon the spot from whence the noises issued.
The shrubbery parted and the head of a donkey appeared. Darcy stepped back, prepared to run. He need not have bothered. The animal’s lead was firmly in the hand of none other than William Collins, who proudly emerged from the overhanging branches, a smile lighting up his face as he beheld his small welcoming committee.
“Ah, Mr. Darcy! How delightful to see you again. May I introduce you to.....” His words echoed in the empty park and he saw only the retreating back of his object. “Well, I heard he was rude but really!”
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen