Chapter 38 #2
After that, Jane and Mrs. Bennet were wearied by their shopping, Elizabeth confessed to needing some afternoon sustenance, and the three ladies had turned their steps towards their temporary home.
A nuncheon of cold chicken, pickles, bread and butter, and sliced fruit awaited them.
They had pleasant, quiet conversation over this light repast, but it could not last, and it did not.
Scarcely had they risen from the table when the first knock could be heard on the front door, heralding the beginning of the usual series of visitors.
Many a hopeful young gentleman found it expedient to call in Norfolk Street on a regular basis, and it was not unusual to have the drawing room full with five or seven or even ten of these dashing blades.
Eventually their visitors had dispersed, and the Bennet ladies had once more set forth to attend the opera.
The opera was not, of course, for respite from socializing, but to see and be seen, and to chat between the curtains.
As far as a day of rest went, it had been singularly unsuccessful, and Mrs. Bennet was more tired than ever. Tomorrow would be even more tiring, for they were invited to the Rutherfords’ ball, wherein Priscilla Rutherford and, officially, Jane and Elizabeth, would be presented to Society.
Annabelle sighed and put down her hairbrush.
She had long been a moderately early riser, and to lie abed for some hours after the sun was up still felt odd to her.
It was, in this busy nightlife, sadly necessary.
In time, they would return to Longbourn, and she could go to bed at a reasonable time once more, but for now, glittering parties demanded her attention.
There was a soft tap on the door.
Annabelle turned a startled look on the door and called, “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Elizabeth, dressed in a nightgown, robe, and nightcap.
“Lizzy?” her mother said in surprise. “Is something wrong?”
“No. May I come in?”
“Of course, darling. Sit down by the fire.”
Elizabeth obeyed, and Mrs. Bennet sat down across from her.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth said abruptly, “I received an offer of marriage early this morning from Cousin Zachary.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened hopefully. “He asked you to marry him?”
“Yes. He was sufficiently honorable to be honest in saying that while he likes me well enough, he does not love me, and our marriage would be transactional. I would eventually become a member of the nobility, while my money would fix Wrayburn. I refused him. I do not want a marriage of convenience, Mamma.”
Annabelle Bennet stared at her daughter. Her first feeling was of disappointment, deep, crushing disappointment, because she liked Zachary, and she liked Lord Langdon, and she loved Wrayburn, and she wanted her childhood home to become all that she remembered…
Elizabeth’s expression was growing more and more anxious as the pair sat in silence, and Mrs. Bennet’s disappointment gave way to shame. Wrayburn was just an estate, and she wanted her daughters to be happy in marriage.
“I understand entirely,” she said, and forced herself to smile. “I do not wish for you to marry outside of your own inclination, darling. I am sorry that you and Zachary … but it matters not.”
“Thank you, Mamma,” Elizabeth said in obvious relief. “I know that you and my cousin, Lord Langdon, would have liked to see us make a match of it, but truly, I do not care for Zachary in a romantic sense, not at all.”
It was on the tip of her mother’s tongue to suggest that Elizabeth wait and see whether a few more days' acquaintance, or weeks, or months, would make a difference, but she forced herself to be silent. Elizabeth was a strong-willed young woman who was quite certain of her own mind.
“I understand,” she repeated quietly.
Elizabeth smiled and said, “After Zachary left, Mr. Darcy came to visit, and he took me for a walk in Hyde Park, whereupon he made me an offer of marriage. He told me that he has been in love with me since autumn, that he waited all winter to be certain of his feelings, that he wants above all things to be my husband. I said … that I needed time to consider it.”
Now Mrs. Bennet’s mouth was hanging open in wonder.
“Mr. Darcy?” she finally asked in a feeble tone.
“Yes.”
“And you said…”
“That I needed time to think,” Elizabeth repeated, and now her cheeks were flushed.
“I told him that I was not certain, but I have been thinking about Mr. Darcy all day, Mamma, and I love him. I love him with all my heart. He is clever, and a good friend, and such a good brother, and we are so comfortable in company. He is also rich, so I do not need to fear he is only interested in gaining control of my fortune. He does not care a wit about my money.”
This was undeniably true, and Mrs. Bennet felt her lips stretch into a smile. “I confess that I did not expect this, but I should have. Mr. Darcy is an excellent man, and I am certain you will be happy as his wife.”
Elizabeth’s entire body relaxed. “I will be, I am certain. You … you like Mr. Darcy, do you not?”
Annabelle nodded immediately and said, “Yes, I do, very much so.”
She was, perhaps, overly enthusiastic, and Elizabeth frowned, leaned back and said softly, “You are disappointed, though, that I am not marrying Zachary?”
Mrs. Bennet hesitated and then said, “I am a little, but that is more out of selfishness than anything else. I had a dream that Wrayburn would be returned to its former glory in my lifetime, but that is due to childhood longings, not reality. I love you, Elizabeth, with all my heart, and never, ever, ever want you, or any of your sisters, to be forced to enter a marriage you do not want. I am so happy for you, my dear, that you have found true love.”
“Thank you, Mamma.”