Chapter Seventy-Five
November 1812
M r. Darcy would not hear of Elizabeth setting off at once; she had just completed a four-day journey and should be made to rest first. Elizabeth complied, as she was grateful for his forbearance in the matter of traveling to Cresston Hall without him and she did not wish to provoke another argument.
This gave her time to acquaint Mary with the wonders of Pemberley, as well as to speak with her privately about Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mary refused to believe that the Colonel was interested in her in a romantic way, though Elizabeth insisted that his attentions had been too marked to be mistaken.
“I am not that sort of girl,” Mary insisted.
“What sort is that, Mary?”
“The sort that men marry! And, in any case I do not wish to marry. Why would I give some man the right to own me?” she demanded, indignantly.
“Well, which is it then, Mary? That you are not the sort that men marry? Or that you are not the sort who wishes to marry?”
“It can be both,” Mary said, stubbornly.
“And if the Colonel offered for you?”
Mary looked away.
Elizabeth sighed. “Very well, Mary. But think about it, please. He is an honourable man, a good man, an intelligent man, and one who has shown a good deal of interest in you.” And my husband is giving you a dowry, she thought, but she would try to leave it for William to tell Mary of his generosity.
***
The day came for the journey to Cresston Hall to begin. Mr. Darcy was still pleading with Elizabeth for her to change her mind and allow him to join her, right up to the last minute, but she was adamant. As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth turned to look behind her. Her beloved William was watching the carriage, looking very unhappy; Georgiana was waving her handkerchief, her face hopeful.
Mary sighed. “I cannot believe I am in a carriage again.”
“I am sorry, Mary; I do know that I rather forced this upon you.”
“You did, yes; but I think I can be of assistance in this matter and am happy to do so. Have you considered what you will say to her?”
“I have rehearsed ten different speeches in my mind, but I think a good deal will depend on how she receives us. Perhaps she will throw us out of the house before I even open my mouth.”
“Yes, that is possible.”
“Which, in many ways, would be the best thing to happen,” Elizabeth said, with a touch of bitterness.
“For you, yes; but for your husband and new sister?”
Elizabeth sighed and stared out the window.
Mary continued, “And if you truly felt that way, you would not have offered to go on this journey to make peace with the woman.”
“I suppose you are right. Come, let us talk of something else.”
“Very well, as long as that something else is not Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth shook her head, leaving Mary to her own thoughts. In truth, Mary did not know what to think or how to feel about the Colonel. She had long ago defined herself as not the pretty one, not the clever one, not the lively one. She was not even the studious one, as that title had been claimed by Lizzy. It was, she had begun to realise, a long series of nots . But now she was beginning to think that – just perhaps – none of those nots were true.
It had been a mistake, she now understood, to downplay her looks. No, she did not have Jane’s golden curls, nor Lizzy’s shining mahogany locks and gorgeous dark eyes, nor Lydia’s buxom figure. But now that she had allowed Lizzy and Kate to have charge of her, she saw that she had a flawless complexion that showed to best advantage when she wore pastels, nut-brown hair that would take a curl if one’s maid had clever fingers, and a figure that showed to advantage with the right gowns.
And with all those things, a very respectable man, the son of an Earl , for heaven’s sake, was interested in her! But could she trust him enough to commit her entire life to him? Once married, she would become his property, and he could do with her as he liked.
This was why, she now understood, that Jane and Lizzy had decided to marry only for love; if a man loved you, odds were greater that he would treat you well. If you loved him, then the whole business of procreation became eminently more tolerable. Her sisters were not, she now realised, being romantic; they were being practical.
How much I did not understand, Mary thought. How much wiser Lizzy is than I imagined her to be. With that thought in her mind, she turned to her sister and said, abruptly, “Should I marry him, do you think?”
“I thought that was a forbidden subject,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
“I am now unforbidding it – I know that is not a word, you need not admonish me! – but I am eager to know your thoughts.”
“The sad truth is that if a woman does not marry, she is an object of scorn in our society.”
“Unless she is very wealthy,” Mary added.
“Yes. Oh, Mary, you are welcome to live at Pemberley with me forever, but do you think that would satisfy you?” Elizabeth spoke rapidly, passionately. “To watch my children laugh and play, to watch me go upstairs with my husband every night, and to go to your own bed alone? No, I believe you would not be content with that. So if the Colonel makes you an offer, I think you should say yes, thank you very much!”
“But can he afford to marry? I do not need much, Lizzy, but I should like my own home.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Very well, I suppose I should tell you. Yes, he can. He has an inheritance from a relative, he can sell his commission, and then there is the small matter of your dowry.”
“My dowry? My share of Mama’s four thousand pounds? Even if you and Jane forego your share, as I suspect my two generous and wealthy sisters will insist upon, there is still only one thousand and three hundred pounds apiece for myself, Kitty and Lydia. I could live on the interest of that, of course, but I cannot access it until Mama dies.”
“My husband has settled five thousand pounds on you, Mary.”
Mary’s mouth opened but no sound came out.
“I was going to let him tell you, but this seems the right time,” Elizabeth continued.
“I do not know what to say,” Mary said. “That is the kindest, most generous –“ And here her voice failed her.
“He was happy to do it, Mary,” Elizabeth said earnestly. “He really is the kindest, most generous man in the world!”
“Does the Colonel know?”
“He does now, but he did not when he first spoke to William about his interest in you. He was planning to live a frugal life with you, if you were willing to accept him.”
“He was? Truly?”
“Yes, truly. He was thunderstruck when William told him about your dowry. Much as you are now,” Elizabeth added, mischievously.
Mary spent the next hour wondering how she could possibly thank her brother-in-law, who had shown himself to be far more concerned about her future than her own father.