Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
S itting at her bedroom window, Elizabeth worried her handkerchief in her hands. The door creaked behind her as it opened.
“Why are you sitting here alone? You must come to the parlour and entertain Mr Collins!” Mrs Bennet said, evidently not noticing her daughter’s mood and wasting no time in chastising her.
“Mr Darcy and I are engaged.” The words tumbled from Elizabeth’s mouth. A profound helplessness swept over her, and she felt like a hare in a poacher’s trap; the more she struggled against the situation, the more ensnared she became. She dug her fingernails into her palms to stem the fresh tears, desperately willing herself to regain her composure.
Her words had a truly extraordinary effect on her mother. Mrs Bennet turned red, then pale, then back to red again, and various emotions—chiefly elation, suspicion, and relief—crossed her face.
“How did this come about? I am sure you have never said more than two words to each other.”
“He told me that he has admired me since the day we met. We conversed often when I stayed at Netherfield. He is not a man who shows his feelings, but he wishes to marry me, and I have accepted.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what, exactly, she had agreed with Mr Darcy, wishing she had been given more time to work out the finer details of their deception.
“Did something untoward happen between you?” Mrs Bennet demanded, peering at her through narrowed eyes.
“Of course not, Mama!” replied Elizabeth, fervently wishing she was elsewhere, “He asked me a few days ago,” she said. “But he wanted to wait until he had spoken to Papa before we told anyone else.” A flash of inspiration seized her. “I did not wish to keep it a secret, of course, but I did not want to go against Mr Darcy’s wishes, not so soon after we reached an understanding and because he is Mr Bingley’s good friend. I would not like to do anything that might cause a rift between Mr Bingley and Jane.”
This appeared to appease her mother, who gave an encouraging nod. “Quite right, you did well.”
Ashamed of her lie, Elizabeth swallowed back the lump in her throat, praying that she would be able to speak to Mr Bennet before her mother did. “However, I must tell you, Mr Darcy and I were speaking of some arrangements—the other day when he proposed—and he speculates that a servant must have overheard, because…” Her breath caught in her chest. “A wicked announcement has been published by a newspaper, the Morning Gazette .” She went on quickly before her mother could comment. “He came today to tell me of the wretched paper and to speak to Papa. He has invited me to stay in London, to meet his family, so that I might gain their approval. I know he is a quiet sort of man, but his intentions are honourable, and I am very grateful for his attention.” She smiled weakly “You knew I would never have accepted Mr Collins.”
For a short time, Mrs Bennet was silent, staring at Elizabeth in astonishment. At last she found her voice. “My daughter will marry Mr Darcy,” she said as though to herself, repeating the words in a stronger voice twice more. Then her expression brightened, and she grinned at Elizabeth. “Well done, my dearest Lizzy! How rich you will be! Think of the pin money you will have, and the gowns! Mr Darcy will buy you all manner of fine things.”
“I am sure he will, Mama, but before we speak of that, please listen to me.” She waited until her mother at least appeared to be doing so. “The notice in the newspaper has vexed Mr Darcy greatly. It makes it sounds as though something sordid has taken place, but in truth it was nothing of the kind. You must make that clear if anyone should ask or pass a comment.”
Waving a hand dismissively, Mrs Bennet stood. “Yes, yes. Now, I must call upon Lady Lucas to tell her my news. Then I shall go to my sister…” She listed several more friends she absolutely had to see or write to that very day. Calling for her maid, Mrs Bennet swept out of Elizabeth’s chamber, leaving her free to fling herself on the bed and weep.
The following weeks were worse than Elizabeth anticipated. Few people truly believed that she and Mr Darcy were in love. While nobody openly criticised her, hushed voices followed her whenever she entered a room. Some people apparently believed she was mercenary, others that she and Mr Darcy had been caught in an indiscretion and were being forced to marry. Mr Bingley called to give his congratulations, but his sisters did not. Elizabeth had hoped her engagement to Mr Darcy might spur Mr Bingley to propose to Jane, but his manner towards her sister became increasingly distant, to Jane’s evident confusion and disappointment.
I wonder if Mr Darcy told him the truth of our engagement. I hope it does not ruin Jane’s chance at happiness.
Kitty and Lydia teased Elizabeth mercilessly. Lydia frequently spoke to her scornfully to, as she said, help Elizabeth become accustomed to life married to the rudest man in England. Jane, whose gentle sympathy she habitually relied upon for support, had looked so horrified when she learnt of the article that Elizabeth could not bring herself to reveal the plan to end her engagement to Mr Darcy. Worst of all, her beloved father hid away in his study, too disappointed by her fate to be of any comfort.
It did not help that Mr Darcy had left for London soon after their meeting. As challenging as it was to be near him, it might have been easier to face the curious looks and whispers if he was seen to take more of an interest in her. Intermittent correspondence passed between him and her father.
“A letter from your Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet would announce at breakfast, handing the missives to her as though they were covered with poison. Apart from a brief expression of hope that Elizabeth was in good health, there was little reference to her; he wrote about his investigation into the source of the speculation, which had proved fruitless thus far.
Mr Darcy arranged for her to stay with one of his cousins at her home in London, as he had suggested he would. Elizabeth did not want to go, but once her mother learnt of the plan, there was no use arguing. Besides it might be pleasant to leave Meryton for a while , Elizabeth reflected as she watched her mother excitedly tell another of her friends how her dearest Lizzy’s forthcoming marriage had saved them all .
Mr Darcy entered her thoughts often, and Elizabeth wondered what life was like for him. Did those about him whisper and stare at him as her neighbours did her? What did his family make of the news?
Oddly, it was Mr Collins that provided an answer to the latter question. Even after the news broke of Elizabeth’s engagement, he remained at Longbourn and had turned his matrimonial sights to a new target: Mary. At breakfast one morning, he read a letter he proudly announced was from his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Soon after beginning the missive, he turned deathly white.
“I must leave this instant,” he announced. “I refuse to remain a moment longer!”
“A pity, but if you insist, I shall make the arrangements for you,” Mr Bennet said without an ounce of sincerity. Glancing out of the window, he added, “By the look of those rain clouds, I believe tomorrow will be the earliest you can depart.”
“Then I shall stay at the Crown tonight,” Mr Collins said, naming the largest Meryton inn.
“Why?” Mrs Bennet demanded anxiously. “Have you forgotten that you were to show Mary your copy of that sermon book you are so fond of?”
“Perhaps it is not Miss Mary that needs to read it, but Miss Elizabeth.” Mr Collins’ statement elicited confusion from about the table. “Lady Catherine speaks of Miss Elizabeth’s conduct in the most unfavourable terms, mentioning arts and allurements, and knowing of our connexion, has written to urge me to counsel you against marrying Mr Darcy.”
“Pray, what business is it of hers?” retorted Elizabeth, staring at her cousin with affront.
“She is Mr Darcy’s aunt,” he replied solemnly. “I was not aware of it until this very letter. If I had known, I would have insisted you end the engagement. Your marriage will be a degradation to Mr Darcy’s noble lineage. Staying under your roof puts me in an untenable position. I must leave at once.”
His insult hung in the air over the table until Mr Bennet broke the silence, his voice harsh. “I insist you quit this house instantly. Neither my horses nor my servants are at your disposal. Leave.” He pointed at the door. “Now!”
Anger burnt inside Elizabeth at her cousin’s remarks. A riposte danced on the tip of her tongue, but she refrained from revealing how deeply his comments had hurt her. “If you leave now, you should arrive before nightfall.” She gave him a scornful look.
Bowing and mumbling something inaudible, Mr Collins quit the room. Unable to bear the argument that broke out between her mother and father, Elizabeth excused herself. Sitting alone in her bedchamber, she told herself that Mr Collins’s good opinion did not matter to her, but it was no use; all that she knew was that her happy, carefree life was over.
She carried her melancholy musings in the following weeks as she prepared for and embarked on her journey away from Longbourn. How long she and her father had been rattling along the mud-strewn road, Elizabeth could not say. All she knew was that the trip to town had felt long, and she both yearned for and dreaded its completion. Sensing her unrest, her father had enquired after her well-being, and she had pleaded fatigue, not wishing to reveal to him that nerves twisted in her stomach, leaving her nauseous. They passed the last quarter-hour in silence and would soon reach their destination: Godstone House in Mayfair. There, Elizabeth would remain with Lord and Lady Fulford, who were relations of Mr Darcy. She had received the invitation shortly after Christmas. Lady Fulford had professed a desire to help her beloved cousin Darcy and a burning curiosity about his future bride. She had written:
All of London desires to meet the jewel that has captured my fastidious cousin’s heart. I am honoured to be the first of our set to do so.
Elizabeth inferred that Lady Fulford was to be her chaperon and guide over the next few months as she masqueraded as the object of Mr Darcy’s heart. She was newly married, and Elizabeth understood that Mr Darcy was only a little acquainted with Lord Fulford.
Her father’s cough drew her attention. “I must speak to you about something of a sensitive nature. It pertains to Mr Darcy.” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, and he continued, “It is the question of your settlement. Despite this whole affair having been forced upon you both, Mr Darcy has agreed to generous terms—far more than I would have expected, given that you and he have been thrown together in this way.”
“I shall be sure to thank him,” Elizabeth said, privately reflecting that her father might be of a different opinion if he knew of their plan to end their engagement.
“Do not speak so hastily.” Mr Bennet waggled a finger. “It states that you must promise not to sue for breach of contract should the engagement be called off for any reason.” He gave a snort of indignation. “I know that you and he never intended for any of this, and now that you are engaged, I am sure he is simply defending himself from further scandal. Naturally, I agreed to it. I would not drag you through the courts in any case, my dear. He is cautious and inflexible. I have never known a man more disposed to protect his own interests above the feelings of anyone else.”
Elizabeth blinked back unexpected tears. Unyielding and unfeeling. This was her own father’s assessment of Mr Darcy’s character. Of course, Mr Darcy would wish to protect himself from future embarrassment, but Mr Bennet’s words reminded her how little say she had in her own future. My life is in Mr Darcy’s hands. Another article in the paper, perhaps implying I have been unfaithful, and he could cast me aside without anyone questioning it. Rather, they would congratulate him on his escape.
She wondered if he regretted their hurried plan. Nearly a month had passed since that tumultuous day, and in the absence of any meaningful correspondence, she had begun to ask herself whether she had misjudged him. Time and distance had softened the antagonism she had once felt, and she had fancied herself able to find some redeeming qualities in his person. Mr Bennet’s remark brought her back sharply to the present and reminded her how little she really knew Mr Darcy. She took a slow, deep breath. It does not matter what is in the settlement, for we have agreed to break our engagement , she told herself. Mr Darcy has proved himself to be a man of his word. He asked me to trust him, and I must do so fully for our scheme to succeed.
Her father reached out and patted her hand. “You have the wit and courage to survive this situation unscathed, Lizzy. I know you will make the best of it.” He gave her a long look, and she nodded. He continued. “I made enquiries of my own with your uncle Gardiner’s assistance. From all he has learnt, it is universally agreed that Mr Darcy’s character is impeccable. He is not known for dissolute habits. He is prideful, but I have little doubt you will cure him of that.”
“I do not know how much time he intends to spend with me,” Elizabeth said. “He will not want to be reminded of what has occurred. I doubt we shall see each other more than he deems necessary to keep up the pretence that our engagement is founded on mutual affection.”
Her father answered with a diffident shrug of the shoulders. She turned her gaze to the window, filled with the urge to walk in the fresh air instead of being jostled about in the cramped carriage.
“There was one more thing about Mr Darcy. Your uncle heard mention of a cousin who died. Apparently, the young man regarded Mr Darcy as something akin to an elder brother. There is some speculation that Mr Darcy neglected his duties and allowed his cousin to enter a scrape that cost him his life. I do not know the particulars, or how much of it is true, but you ought to know of it.”
The mention of Mr Darcy’s cousin put Elizabeth in mind of speaking to Mr Wickham at Aunt Philips’s card party. He had spoken of rumours concerning Mr Darcy but had never explained. That same night, she had seen him and Mr Bull deep in conversation. The memory of that man still caused her heart to beat irregularly as she recalled their encounter in the Netherfield gardens. Palms clammy, she took another calming breath and cast out the lecherous Mr Bull from her thoughts.
“Thank you for telling me, Papa. You were right to do so. I have had my fill of secrets.”