Chapter VIII
Whispers were Elizabeth’s constant companion the remainder of the evening at her Uncle Philips’s house, though little of the evening remained.
Astonished though she was by what she heard, Mrs. Philips turned at once, throwing her full support behind her niece, claiming to all who would listen that she always thought Mr. Wickham was too smooth to be believed.
Mr. Philips was another matter altogether.
“This is all curious, Lizzy,” said he near the end of the evening, having pulled Elizabeth aside for a few moments. “The last I knew, you were not at all opposed to Mr. Wickham.”
“I have learned more about Mr. Wickham, and that has made me cautious.”
“Yes, that appears to be so.” Mr. Philips paused and regarded her. “Do you suppose he will continue to create trouble?”
“I suppose he has already created it,” replied Elizabeth. “If I were to guess, I would expect Mr. Wickham to leave Meryton as soon as he can slip away.”
“Which will leave the merchants with unpaid debts,” said her uncle.
“When you return to Longbourn, inform your father about what happened tonight. Tomorrow morning, I shall visit the merchants and obtain some sense of the damage he has caused. It may be best if your father comes to offer his support.”
“I will tell him,” agreed Elizabeth.
Mr. Philips nodded, fixing Elizabeth with an affectionate look.
“It pleases me that you stood up for yourself to that man, Lizzy, but next time, consider confiding in me. Near the end, I thought Wickham would lose the use of his reason; I would not return you to your father with the duty of explaining to him how Mr. Wickham assaulted you in my home.”
“The danger of that was minimal,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Wickham may be many things, but he is not stupid.”
“You could not know that, Lizzy.” The smile he gave her was no less than pointed. “Please consider your old uncle’s heart and allow me to protect you when you are in my home.”
Elizabeth smiled and kissed her uncle’s cheek. “With any luck, it will not be required. I hope we have seen the last of Mr. Wickham—before the regiment came, Aunt’s parties were not so exciting as this.”
“Trust me, Lizzy—I long for those days to return.”
There was no need to state the obvious, for her uncle knew Elizabeth longed for those days herself. Life was simpler before the regiment arrived—they could not depart quickly enough for Elizabeth’s taste.
Silence fell during the brief journey back to Longbourn, as none of the sisters was eager to speak of the significant events of the evening.
Lydia glared and pouted, not unexpected given Elizabeth’s reprimand that evening, while Elizabeth gazed out the window at the darkened landscape.
Their three sisters remained quiet with their own thoughts, existing somewhere between Lydia’s petulance and Elizabeth’s contemplation.
All this changed when they walked through Longbourn’s front door a few moments later.
Had Elizabeth thought her youngest sister was cowed, the arrival at Longbourn was a death of any such expectation, for Lydia was eager for a quarrel.
Mrs. Hill met them at the door, the maid ready to collect their bonnets, spensers, and gloves.
The moment Lydia divested herself of her outer garments, she rounded on Elizabeth.
“How could you do that, Lizzy? What gives you the right to demean a man on the excuse of nothing more than hearsay?”
“Be silent, Lydia!” hissed Elizabeth. “I am no more interested in listening to your puling than I was at our uncle’s house. You sound like a child denied a sweet.”
The redness of fury bloomed in Lydia’s cheeks. “And you are a talebearer and a traitor! Mr. Wickham was right—one word from Mr. Darcy and all his riches, and you betray a man who was only ever polite to you. I never thought I would see you, of all people, listen to anything Mr. Darcy might say.”
“And I expected you to flutter your lashes and simper at all Mr. Wickham’s lies and proclaim your violent attachment to a man who does not deserve it!”
Matters quickly worsened, and soon, Lydia was toe to toe with Elizabeth, screaming at her, while Elizabeth gave as good as she got. Kitty and Mary attempted to get in between them, but Lydia would not be moved, and Elizabeth was not about to allow her stupid sister to say what she would.
That it would draw others to the fray was no surprise.
Mr. Bennet’s study was just down the hall from the entrance, so he emerged the moment raised voices disturbed his peace, and Mrs. Bennet, who had been above stairs, joined them only a moment later.
Elizabeth prided herself on keeping her temper, but Lydia incensed her so much that she was most injudicious with her words.
After emotions had settled, she wished that she had exercised restraint.
“You cannot even attract the attention of a man!” Lydia screeched, responding to a comment on her flirtation with the officers.
“Even Mr. Darcy could not stand you, for you were only tolerable and not handsome enough to earn his favor. You should have accepted Mr. Collins, for he is the only man who will ever propose to you!”
“Is that so?” demanded Elizabeth, fury suppressing her caution. “At least I have had two proposals. All you will ever inspire from a man is improper admiration for your wild ways.”
“Two proposals?” challenged Lydia, scoffing. “Has some other oily parson slithered out to propose to you, or have you lost your ability to count?”
Belatedly, Elizabeth realized she had said more than she should, but the damage appeared to be done.
“Two?” asked Mrs. Bennet as if unable to fathom what she was hearing. “Who else proposed to you?”
Though repentant for having voiced such a thing, from the looks she was getting from her family, Elizabeth knew she could not brush this off. Lydia’s challenging expression fueled the fire in Elizabeth’s breast, such that she could not refrain from revealing all.
“Yes, Lydia, I have received two proposals. The second was from Mr. Darcy when I was in Kent.”
Silence settled over them all. Mrs. Bennet stared at Elizabeth uncomprehending, and her sisters were little better, though Elizabeth noted the scrutiny with which her father regarded her.
To Elizabeth’s detriment, Mrs. Bennet recovered first and displayed her usual want of understanding by drawing the wrong conclusion.
“Then you are engaged! Why, Lizzy, you never dropped a word. And to a man such as Mr. Darcy, a wealthy, prominent man, as excellent a position as we have ever seen. We are saved!”
“Mama—”
Elizabeth attempted to rein in her mother’s enthusiasm, but Mrs. Bennet was not to be deterred.
“That must be why you were secretive when you returned. Of course, your fiancé would tell you about Mr. Wickham—and it is a good thing he did. We must plan for the wedding at once. Tell me, Lizzy, when is Mr. Darcy coming to Hertfordshire? When he comes, we must do our best to impress him. What are his favorite foods? When shall you marry? Oh, there is so much to be done!”
“Mama!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I am not engaged!”
Had it been any other circumstance, Elizabeth might have found her mother’s utter shock diverting. Her father had no such restriction, his gaze traveling from his wife to Elizabeth as if to say: “You knew better than to say such a thing to your mother.”
“Not engaged!” cried her mother. “You foolish child! Did you reject another proposal, one that might have saved us all?”
“She is lying!” cried Lydia. “It is nothing more than an attempt to make herself appear more appealing.”
“If you accuse me of lying again, I shall not be responsible for my actions!”
It appeared the heat in Elizabeth’s voice pierced Lydia’s stupidity, for she blanched at the threat. That was when Mr. Bennet stepped in to exert control over the situation.
“While I must own to some delight at this farce, it is time to allow your tempers to cool.”
When Lydia turned a sullen gaze to the floor, Elizabeth offered a curt nod.
“Now, it seems there are a few matters of which your mother and I are not aware. Since Mrs. Bennet will allow nothing to take precedence over this business of a proposal, we shall discuss that first. Tell me, Lizzy—did Mr. Darcy propose to you in Kent?”
“Yes, Papa, he did,” said Elizabeth without hesitation. There was nothing left but to acknowledge the truth, though Elizabeth supposed her mother would make her life miserable, as payment for having spoken so injudiciously of such a matter in her hearing.
“And this proposal,” continued her father, “you refused. You must have, considering your admission about the lack of an engagement.”
“Oh, Papa!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Do you suppose I could accept a proposal from Mr. Darcy, of all men? After I rejected Mr. Collins?”
“Mr. Darcy is not Mr. Collins!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “That gentleman is wealthy enough that we never would have wanted for a home or a means to put bread on our table!”
“If we could persuade him to do it,” snapped Elizabeth. “Do you not recall that Mr. Darcy disdained us?”
“Enough, Mrs. Bennet,” said her father before his wife could say anything. “We will never know all if you persist in interrupting.”
When Mrs. Bennet huffed her displeasure, assuring him that her outbursts were at an end for the moment, he turned his attention back to Elizabeth.
“I do think you are incorrect about one thing, Lizzy—Mr. Darcy is not such a man as to refuse to uphold his responsibilities. Should you marry him and something befall me, I cannot suppose he would allow your family to live in penury.”
Feeling her cheeks heating a little, Elizabeth nodded, though she did not speak.
“Then there is no engagement,” Lydia spat.
Ignoring his wife’s lament, Bennet turned a hard gaze at his youngest daughter, who, not accustomed to her father’s displeasure, blanched at the sight. When she would not look up at him, Mr. Bennet nodded.