Chapter XII #2
It was fortunate, therefore, that Mr. Darcy intervened. “Mrs. Bennet,” said he, “if you would be so kind, I should like to introduce my sister to your acquaintance.”
Though she blinked in surprise, Mrs. Bennet recovered at once. “Of course, you must introduce her, Mr. Darcy.”
The gentleman’s feelings were not apparent at once, for he turned to the task, presenting the Bennets to his sister, then his sister to the Bennets as was proper.
Mrs. Bennet exclaimed her welcome and invited her to sit nearby, engaging her in conversation.
Miss Darcy said little, which Elizabeth understood as her shyness, and not the conceit Mr. Wickham had attributed to her.
One benefit to Miss Darcy’s position was that it prevented Mrs. Bennet from saying something she ought not, which was reason enough for gratitude.
Mr. Darcy stayed near Mrs. Bennet and his sister, listening to the conversation but not speaking much.
Miss Darcy, though she was unaccustomed to ladies of Mrs. Bennet’s character, appeared to give a good account of herself.
In time, Kitty and Mary drifted closer to learn more of her, and even Lydia put her sulking aside in favor of curiosity.
Mr. Darcy appeared to believe that his sister was well entertained and in no danger, and he rose and approached Elizabeth.
As she was watching for signs, Elizabeth noted the added measure of deference he appeared to show her, along with his gaze, which, though it could not be called warm, was more open than the face he usually showed to the world.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, bowing to her curtsey, “I wished to thank you again for your instant defense of my sister.”
“It was no trouble, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “I knew it would be better to cast doubt on his character rather than refute his claims. If you had sworn to your sister’s innocence, it would have given rise to more gossip.”
“That was well deduced.”
“If we are offering appreciation,” said Elizabeth, “let me thank you not only for acting to acquaint Mr. Bingley with the truth, but your intention to deal with Mr. Wickham.”
“For that, I am not certain I deserve thanks, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy sighed and offered a slight smile. “It has long been my practice to avoid even the thought of Wickham when I could; now I understand that was an error.”
“Have you written to your uncle?” asked Elizabeth.
“The moment we arrived at Netherfield,” confirmed Mr. Darcy. The gentleman shrugged. “My uncle has never cared for Wickham, and he knows much of my dealings with him. I have little doubt he will act on my recommendation.”
“Then I think it is appropriate to mourn what Mr. Wickham might have become, rather than the end he chose of his own volition.”
“That is more wisdom than I have ever possessed when it pertains to Wickham.”
“Sometimes, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, allowing a soft smile, “it is easier to attain wisdom at a distance.”
Mr. Darcy nodded but changed the subject. “I must own to no little astonishment. You are correct that I came to Meryton with the determination to deal with Wickham—consider my surprise to arrive in Meryton to find the townsfolk already baying for his blood. Will you not share how you managed it?”
As it happened, Elizabeth was not at all opposed to it.
She gave her account, stressing that she used gossip as her weapon of choice, but noting that she descended to it for a loftier purpose.
Then she recounted the discussion with Colonel Forster and confessed that it would have been easier had she simply approached him.
“It may have been easier,” said Mr. Darcy. “Yet I cannot but suppose it would not have been so efficacious.”
“How so, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, curiosity washing over her.
“Wickham has an almost uncanny ability to sense when sentiment is turning against him,” explained Mr. Darcy.
“Had he any notion that the colonel was investigating his activities, he would have disappeared at once and without a second thought. The way you did it gave him a false sense of security, prevented him from fleeing because it was you who was speaking of him.”
Elizabeth considered this. “I had never thought of it in such terms.”
A shrug was Mr. Darcy’s response. “That conclusion is based on my knowledge of Wickham, an understanding that you do not possess. It is no surprise you would not have considered it.”
With a smile, Elizabeth arched a brow. “Then I stumbled upon a means to ensure Mr. Wickham was caught by accident?”
“Rather by design, though a design you could not know would be effective,” said Mr. Darcy.
At that moment, the gentleman appeared to realize something. He was grave for a moment, but then he turned back to Elizabeth in an air of confidence.
“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “but your mother’s manner toward me differs from what it was in the autumn. Can you explain what has changed?”
Unfortunately, Elizabeth had no chance to explain, for her mother interjected, silencing the entire company. “Mr. Darcy! Is it true that you proposed to my daughter?”
SHOCKED AS HE WAS, Darcy could muster no response. A glance at Miss Elizabeth revealed that she was unable to look at him, her entire face blooming like the reddest rose.
Then understanding came, though Darcy could not fathom how it had happened.
The difference in Mrs. Bennet was because of the knowledge that Darcy had proposed to her daughter—to a woman such as Mrs. Bennet, a proposal was a subject she could not overlook.
As Miss Elizabeth was under the influence of profound mortification and unable to speak, Darcy knew the response would need to be his.
“Yes, Mrs. Bennet, it is true,” said he.
In responding, he had shocked Miss Elizabeth, for she peered at him, eyes wide, mouth a little parted, incomprehension written on her brow.
A glance around told Darcy that the rest of the family was watching with interest but no surprise—however it had come about, they all knew of Darcy’s failed proposal.
Mr. Bennet, he noted, was even grinning with anticipation, and perhaps even a little amusement at his daughter’s expense.
The only ones appearing shocked were Bingley and Georgiana, though he noticed his sister was surprised, not distressed.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” wailed the Bennet matron, “I am appalled at what my thoughtless daughter has done. She can be as stubborn a girl as ever existed!”
“That is hardly the way to get him to consider her again,” said Mr. Bennet sotto voce.
Bingley snorted a laugh, and though Darcy was tempted to do the same, he held his countenance. Mrs. Bennet fixed her husband with an annoyed glare. “It is your fault, Mr. Bennet, for you have filled Lizzy’s head with books and independence, something no young woman has any business learning.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy, drawing all eyes to him again, “your daughter’s intelligence and ability to give a good account of herself are among the qualities that attracted me to her. If I wished for a compliant wife, I could find candidates by the dozen in London.”
“Well, well,” said Mr. Bennet. “There appears to be one man in England who does not put stock in the things society holds so dear.”
“Indeed, I do not,” said Darcy, for the first time suspecting he could esteem Mr. Bennet. “You have raised an excellent daughter, for she is poised, confident, intelligent, and of a magnetic personality.”
Darcy paused for effect, uncertain whether what he meant to do was wise, but he proceeded anyway. “It is unfortunate she rejected my proposal, for I have much to offer a woman.”
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and Mr. Bennet released a loud laugh, but this served only to make Mrs. Bennet more agitated. Darcy knew her display would do no one any credit, so he acted at once to put her at ease.
“In answer to your unspoken question, Mrs. Bennet, if Miss Elizabeth is willing, my offer for her remains open. Perhaps, however, it would be best to allow us to come to an accord ourselves. Much of what passed between us was borne of misunderstanding—correcting that will do much to repair the situation.”
Though Mrs. Bennet had been poised to release an impressive rant, she blinked, her eyes wide, then she appeared to settle. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I must agree. I shall . . .”
Whatever she would do remained unspoken—it seemed Mrs. Bennet had gained at least a hint of understanding. Whether that would allow her to watch and not interfere, Darcy could not know, but it was better than the woman playing matchmaker.
“That is excellent news,” said Georgiana, a measure of slyness Darcy had not seen before lighting her eyes. “I have always wanted to have a sister.”
Though a small comment, Darcy knew it had a profound effect in further settling Mrs. Bennet.
The Bennet matron would now see Georgiana as an ally, increasing her confidence and, unless Darcy missed his guess, more willing to allow events to unfold.
Darcy grinned at his sister, who returned it and then fixed her attention again on her conversation.
“Your comment is curious, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, all trace of her embarrassment gone in favor of asperity.
“It sounded like you intended to use my mother to force my hand. Would now be the appropriate time to reveal that my mother’s insistence on the subject failed to force me to marry Mr. Collins? ”
Collins’s attentions to Miss Elizabeth at the ball, the one place where he had seen them together, had not crossed Darcy’s mind for some time, though they had been obvious at the time.
The way Miss Elizabeth stood, eyes flashing, face set in a disapproving frown, did nothing to harm her in his eyes.
If anything, it provoked his admiration to new heights.
“I recall your mention of it at Rosings,” said Darcy.
Miss Elizabeth raised her chin. “You should know that my father supported my right to make my own choice. Should you press your suit, he will allow me the same privilege.”
“Good girl, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet quietly enough that Darcy did not think anyone else heard him.
“Someday you must tell me the story, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, “for I am most curious to learn of what happened. The notion that a buffoon on the order of Mr. Collins thought himself worthy of you is ridiculousness of the sort I did not think even he was capable.”
“And you consider yourself worthy?” asked she, this time with more than a little sauce in her tone.
“Perhaps I am not. But I believe I shall enjoy the chase regardless. Before that, however, I should make a few things clear. I have no interest in receiving you at the altar if your mother forces you there, Miss Elizabeth—in fact, I have a healthy respect for your ability to render my life miserable if you do not choose me of your own free will. With that clear, I wonder if you will allow me to make my case.”
The way Miss Elizabeth regarded him showed deep thought, but he could see the anger flowing away, leaving her contemplative. In time, she answered.
“If you will forgive me, Mr. Darcy, I confess that I find this all strange. According to your excellent aunt, you are destined to have a de Bourgh as your bride. Do you care to enlighten me?”
The mention of Lady Catherine and her absurd cradle arrangement was unwelcome—his aunt was a subject of which he did not like to speak at the best of times.
That Lady Catherine would betray that matter during Miss Elizabeth’s stay was not surprising, though Darcy wondered about the extent of her knowledge.
“Lady Catherine is not precisely tactful.” Darcy grinned and added: “Yes, I know what you will say, Miss Elizabeth. Yet I had not thought she would speak of such matters.”
Miss Elizabeth colored and looked down. “That did not come from Lady Catherine alone, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Wickham spoke of it before I went into Kent, though I would have understood her wishes regardless. After you departed, she spoke at length of your growing attachment to Rosings.”
Darcy shook his head, trying to hide his disdain. “Neither point is surprising, Miss Elizabeth. In my family—and even outside of it because of Lady Catherine’s unrestrained ways—it has long been known that Lady Catherine has her heart set on a match between her daughter and me.”
“Then you disagree—of course, you must.”
“I do,” replied Darcy. “While I have no notion of the contents of my aunt’s discussion with my mother on the subject, I have never considered myself bound by her wishes.”
“And what of Miss de Bourgh’s opinion?”
Darcy could not help but shrug. “Anne is not forthcoming about her feelings at the best of times. Should her mother prevail enough to induce a proposal, I think she would accept, but it would proceed from a desire to avoid angering her mother than from any desire for a closer connection to me.”
“Very well,” said Miss Elizabeth with a nod. “I can imagine how your aunt would act should you ever successfully offer for me, but I have never been in the habit of allowing others to dictate my actions, and I shall not start now.”
“Does this mean you are open to the notion?” asked Darcy, feeling a slow smile spread over his face.
“It means that I am not opposed to coming to know you better,” said Miss Elizabeth. “For anything more, we must wait and see.”
Mr. Darcy grasped her hand and bowed over it. “Trust me, Miss Elizabeth—that is far more than I had hoped to obtain.”
Soon, the call to dinner arrived, and though Darcy escorted her mother as was proper, he kept hold of Miss Elizabeth’s hand and ensured she was seated beside him.
Mrs. Bennet appeared pleased as he might have expected, and Miss Elizabeth did not appear opposed.
It was a good start, though Darcy knew he still had much work to do.
As any of his friends would attest, once he decided, Darcy was not in the habit of allowing anything to get in his way.
Confidence bloomed in his breast, far more hopeful than anything he had felt, even when he had entered the parlor at Hunsford.