Chapter 27
27
KING MINUS
I n a near swoon—real or imagined—upon having learnt of her youngest daughter’s rescue from Mr Wickham’s clutches, Mrs Bennet was restored to her usual querulous self after inhaling spirit of hartshorn.
Elizabeth’s despondency, however, received no palliative. Surrounded by her chattering sisters, she waited in painful suspense for whatever her father would say as he closed the sitting room door.
Standing then in front of the unlit fireplace, he cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention. “So, daughters, according to your mother, Netherfield’s housekeeper has received orders to prepare for the arrival of Mr Bingley by week’s end.”
Mrs Bennet smiled knowingly at Jane, who gave no indication of having noticed.
“Have any of you wondered,” continued Mr Bennet, “why that man is returning to his country house at this particular time and, I hear, bringing Mr Darcy with him? ”
Apparently thinking it all a game, Kitty said, “Perhaps they are coming to fish.”
Taking up her book of extracts, Mary flipped through it. “It is possible that, like the prodigal son, he went away to lead an intemperate life but wishes to make a repentant return.”
“Both Kitty and Mary are wrong,” said Lydia, “although I do not know what Mary was talking about. And I care not a groat why gentlemen in blue coats are returning. I would much rather see the militia come back.”
With a hint of pique colouring her tone, Jane said, “Can Mr Bingley not come to a house he has legally rented without raising such speculation? At this time of year, many families leave town for their country homes.”
“How odd to have not heard an opinion from you, Elizabeth,” said Mr Bennet.
“Papa,” said Kitty, looking from her father to the sister she most resembled in appearance, “why do you address Lizzy so formally?”
“Well, Kitty,” said he, “does ‘Lizzy’ sound like the proper way to address the mistress of a grand old manor or a lady in possession of a good fortune? And while we are at it, answer me this… Why would a wealthy woman be in want of a husband? Would she not be required to hand over Oakwood Manor and her fifty thousand pounds to her lord and master?”
“What nonsense you speak, Mr Bennet,” said his wife. “Who is this wealthy woman?”
Wide-eyed, Jane clutched Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy, is Oakwood Manor not the name of the place where you spent a se’nnight? Oh! Oh, my dear sister, did you?—”
“Yes, Jane, my clever girl,” said Mr Bennet. “You have hit the nail on the head. As only you knew beforehand, Elizabeth went to Buckinghamshire for the sole purpose of participating in a tournament. And you now may congratulate her on winning the prize. Your sister soon will be mistress of the aforementioned country house and possess a staggering amount of wealth.”
Struck dumb, his wife and four of his five daughters sat staring at him. Then, as one, they turned and gaped at Elizabeth.
Finally comprehending what she had heard, Mrs Bennet rose and danced round the room. “A country house and fifty thousand pounds! But is it really true? Oh, my sweetest Lizzy, how rich and how great you will be! What finery you will be able to buy for not only yourself but for all your sisters and me! Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in Buckinghamshire and a staggering amount of wealth!”
Silently rejoicing that such an effusion could not be heard by the entire neighbourhood, Elizabeth said, “There is more, Mama.”
“More?” Mrs Bennet stopped dancing and stared stupidly at her.
With a defiant look at her father, Elizabeth said, “I am engaged to Mr Darcy.”
“Oh, my dearest child!” her mother cried, taking Elizabeth’s face between her hands. “Fifty thousand pounds and ten thousand a year! An estate in Derbyshire, a country house in Buckinghamshire, and a house in town! And a tall, handsome gentleman to boot! I hope he will overlook the fact that you do not like him.”
That was enough to prove her mother’s approbation need not be doubted. As for Papa…
From across the room, Mr Bennet said, “Must I remind you, Elizabeth, that you require my consent? ”
“Of course they will have your consent,” said his wife, waving her handkerchief at him. “Lizzy will marry Mr Darcy, and she will be richer than King Minus!”
Her husband scoffed. “Ah yes, good old King Minus… Everything he touched was taken away.”
Elizabeth winced. Why must he mock my mother so? “Mama, the king’s name was Midas, not minus. The myth of his golden touch warns about the tragedy of avarice and”—she turned to her father—“of what happens when true happiness is not recognised.”
“We shall continue this conversation in my library. Now, Elizabeth.” Mr Bennet opened the door and waited for her to follow him.
Once she was seated in his private domain, he paced. “So, child, tell me your theory. Why are the gentlemen returning to Netherfield at this particular time?” Shaking his head, he muttered, “From whence have all these worthless young scoundrels come? Bingley—the man who made love to Jane, then deserted her. Wickham—the seducer of almost thirty who preys upon girls half his age, working on their innocence and stupidity. Darcy—who looked down on all of us until you became a wealthy woman. Pah! From what woodwork have they all crawled?”
It had been a rhetorical question asked only to make a statement, but she refused to respond to her father’s provocation.
Hands behind his back as he paced, Mr Bennet seemed deep in thought. “Perhaps I should set Lydia upon your lover. I am confident she could frighten him back to the Midlands from whence he came.” He stopped in front of her. “Do not look so downcast, child. If Mr Darcy is too squeamish to bear connexions with a little absurdity, he is not worth a groat of regret. ”
“I truly do have much to regret, Papa. I regret my hasty judgment of those two men from the Midlands. I regret not being more moderate and private in my opinions of them. I regret my ill-treatment of Mr Darcy while we were in Kent.”
“Oh yes, I heard all about that. Although he has a disposition tending towards self-congratulation, your admirer actually lowered himself enough to speak of his mortification at your hands. Well done, child. Well done. I wish I had been there that evening to have given him one of my own set- downs.”
“I do not understand this bitterness and vitriol towards the gentleman I love.”
“Love! Pshaw. What do you know of it?”
“I know I love him enough to surrender Oakwood Manor and fifty thousand pounds if it means I can marry him. Except my conscience will not allow me to do that because of the entail on Longbourn. But Mr Darcy will not fritter away my inheritance. He is a good man, and you will understand that when he presents the marriage settlement to you. He will not touch my wealth. His sole condition is that Oakwood Manor be preserved for a second son or daughter, and that is only after Mama and any of my sisters might have need of it. Papa, do you not realise that if—no, when —I marry him, my fortune will benefit my future children, your grandchildren?”
That seemed to give him pause.
From above the open window somewhere, probably under the eaves, the musical twittering of barn swallows seemed incongruous with the rancour inside the library. All the discord Elizabeth experienced with her father made each minute of harmony she had spent with Mr Darcy all the more precious .
What she needed to impart next would cause additional pain and acrimony, but it had to be said. “I realise you wish to retain control of my wealth for as long as you can. However, as I told you in town, only when I reach my majority shall I claim my inheritance. Mr Darcy and I shall marry on the eleventh of July. Soon afterwards, he and I shall meet with the attorneys at Pemberton & Monroe. I trust Mr Darcy to do whatever is best with my property. He is conscientious that way.” Her vehemence made reserve impossible. “Unfortunately, I must question whether or not you would have been capable of managing my inheritance, considering how poorly you have provided for your wife and daughters.”
As though she physically had wounded him, Mr Bennet winced and pressed a palm against his breastbone. Shaking his head, he muttered, “How could I have let this happen? What a state my imprudence has reduced me to.”
Overcome, Elizabeth required several moments to keep her emotions under any sort of regulation. How unpleasant must be his reflections! “Papa,” she said, barely able to hear herself speak above the wild pounding of her heart. “I hope to honour you and our ancestors by bestowing a second Christian name, ‘Bennet’, upon any sons I may bring into the world. Mr Darcy has agreed. So, please, give him and me not only your consent but your blessing.”
Her father remained silent. Listening, no doubt, to the reproaches of his conscience.
Gaining her feet, she felt a bout of light-headedness while moving towards the door. She had taken only a roll and a cup of tea in town and had eaten nothing since. “Consider this, Papa. Unless you gain a son-in-law willing to take on your surname, this line of Bennets ends with you.” Hand upon the latch, she spoke without turning to face him. “And do try to remember that King Midas failed to find pleasure in all he had wrought.”
“Do you know what I think, Lizzy?” Jane pulled the boar-bristle brush through her sister’s hair as they sat upon her bed. “I think Papa is jealous of your Mr Darcy.”
“Perhaps.” Elizabeth winced as Jane tugged at a tangle. “Such a kind and honourable gentleman is likely to arouse jealousy in lesser men, and my Mr Darcy is immensely enviable.”
“You did not always think of him in such terms.”
“True.” Elizabeth gazed into the teardrop-shaped flame of the bedside candle and could not resist a tease. “In his friend’s presence, do you suppose Mr Bingley ever feels inferior?”
The tug grew positively vicious. “Such errant nonsense! Mr Bingley may be fickle, but I cannot imagine him capable of discontentment or resentfulness. His amiable and cheerful disposition is entirely different from Mr Darcy’s.”
Elizabeth turned so quickly that the brush flew from her sister’s hand and skidded across the floor. Laughing and apologising, she leapt from the bed and fetched it. “Seriously now, do you suppose jealousy is the only reason Papa continues to be so contrary?”
“My father has his faults, but I believe that initially he was trying to be protective of the person he loves most in the world. You. Now he is being obstinate. You get your stubbornness from him.” Jane turned down the coverlet and climbed in. “You have my support and that of Mama and all my sisters. Well, most of them.”
“I presume you mean Lydia. She had a matrimonial project in mind when she went to Brighton—to be the first of us married—and Mr Darcy ruined her scheme. Besides, she thinks he is too staid for me. Her next project is to persuade Papa to take us all to Brighton, where she intends to, and I quote, ‘find husbands for all my sisters’.” Elizabeth crawled beneath the covers and extinguished the candle.
“Jane,” she whispered after a minute or two, “are you asleep?”
“If I answer yes, would you believe me?”
“No.” Elizabeth yawned. “Has Mary said anything to you about my situation?”
Bed linens rustled. “She struggles between ‘honour thy father and thy mother’ and ‘forget thine own people and thy father’s house’. But, Lizzy, surely the psalmist did not mean a prospective bride should erase all memory of her family.” Jane sounded close to tears. “I could not bear it if you severed ties with us.”
“Never! Besides, you and Mr Bingley will purchase an estate in Derbyshire, and the four of us will live happily away from our father’s house.”
Much later than was customary, for she had slept poorly on Monday night, Elizabeth went downstairs. Upon reaching the bottom, she was met by her father.
“Good morning, Lizzy. I was just going to look for you. Come into my library, please.”
His entire demeanour seemed altered, and she was intrigued but wary.
Once they were comfortably settled—he at his desk and she in an armchair across from him—Mr Bennet said that over the past hour and a half he had been worked upon by his wife and eldest daughter. “Then Sir William paid a call. Apparently, the whole neighbourhood knows our business because Lydia spoke of it to Maria. At any rate, I have had some sense talked into me, have been made to see the error of my ways, and have been persuaded. So, if you will allow it, I very much would like to remain a part of your life.” He steepled his fingers, and behind his spectacles, his eyes twinkled. “I wish to know these future grandchildren of whom you spoke.”
Feeling a measure of relief, Elizabeth remained cautious. “Then…do you consent to my marrying Mr Darcy?” She sat forwards, all hopefulness.
“Yes, and you have my blessing.” Mr Bennet removed his spectacles and scrubbed a palm across his eyes. “Having been a young man once, and a bit of a scoundrel, I simply wanted better for you. I believed your young man was not good enough, but I should have trusted your judgment.”
“Based upon on my first impression of Mr Wickham and of Mr Darcy himself, I know my judgment is not infallible.” She beamed at her father, grateful to have proof that his affection was not lost to her. She, however, had lost a degree of respect for him. “Thank you for wanting the best for me, Papa.”
“Yes, well, who could be better for my dearest daughter than a gentleman who is madly in love with her? He has, you see, some sense and good taste after all. And he is a man with his own fortune and no need of yours.” Mr Bennet shook his head. “I acted despicably, accusing Mr Darcy of avarice when all along the greedy one was me. The thought of all that wealth went to my head, I suppose. The inheritance is yours, of course, not mine.”
He stood and kissed the top of her head. “My dear Lizzy, just as you defeated your opponents during the tournament, you, your young man, and others have prevailed over me. I concede. Mr Darcy is the better man. Who else would have given up a chance to claim fifty thousand pounds and a country house just so that you might have a better chance of doing so?”
Elizabeth gasped. “I beg your pardon? He did what ?”