Chapter 8 #2
“I am happy, Papa,” Elizabeth replied, touched by her father’s sudden tenderness. “Why would you imagine otherwise?”
“I know you are happy now, but in the future, I worry you will not find a man who deserves you. A man worthy of your spirit, your intelligence, your wit, your strength, and your sense of duty.”
“Papa! What has come over you? You have not praised me so much in the last twenty years,” she laughed to conceal her emotions.
“Well, today you impressed me once again. And, to be honest, I believe you impressed Mr Darcy too. His reaction was nothing like I expected. In fact, he was entirely not what I expected, at least until the end of the meeting.”
“I was a little surprised too, Papa. He did seem different…or perhaps we looked at him through different lenses before,” she joked.
“Yes…I am curious what he will decide in regard to your confession. Strangely, he appeared more preoccupied by how it would affect you than relieved for himself. Unexpected, from someone who called you only tolerable! Imagine the look on his face when reminded of his words!”
“Papa! You did not!”
“I did not. But imagine if I did! It could be one of the most entertaining moments. Although I cannot say he would appreciate the humour. What a coincidence that you, of all people, witnessed his meeting with Wickham. That it was you who listened to their arguments, hearing the truth from both parties and in their own words — it must be a joke, an ironic twist of fate!”
“Indeed…it seems like a joke. But a sad and tragic one. God willing, I shall tell my account tomorrow, and the culprit will be found in the end. Now, let us go to dinner, Mama will be furious with us!”
Elizabeth took her father’s arm and they both finally left the room. A moment later, they stopped brusquely, both startled, as not even a foot away from them, in the hall, Mrs Bennet and Mr Collins stood motionless, their faces metamorphosed in complete stupefaction.
“Mr Bennet!” the lady cried first. “What were you saying? Of what were you speaking? What did you mean? What is Miss Lizzy up to again?”
Dejection caused Elizabeth’s shoulders to slouch, and she closed her eyes in defeat, but Mr Bennet replied with composure.
“Mrs Bennet, unless you want to faint here in the hall and without any comfortable surface for you to sit on, please breathe deeply and calm down. You have no smelling salts either, and I will not call for anyone else now. You too, Mr Collins.”
“But…but…but…” Mrs Bennet continued to mumble. “Mr Collins wished to speak to you on a private matter and we came to search for you… And now we hear this! How can it be?”
Her husband took her by the arm and led her into the dining room.
“I cannot understand why exactly you are so troubled, madam. It is a simple matter which does not affect you in any way. And I am asking you to keep this in confidence, at least for tonight. I cannot tell you any more.”
“But what confidence? What is the secret? You mean that Lizzy saw Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham together? Did Mr Darcy hurt him? Is he the one who murdered him? What is this account? What do you mean to say and to whom? Is it the colonel?” Mrs Bennet’s voice became louder and louder as she continued her speculations, increasing Elizabeth’s discomfort.
“Dear Cousin, this appears to be a most concerning matter,” Mr Collins interjected. “And, since it involves Mr Darcy, I would advise you to proceed with the utmost care. One must show caution when talking about an affair involving such an illustrious gentleman as Mr Darcy!”
It took them less than a minute to cross the hallway from the library to the dining room, and Mrs Bennet’s anguished agitation could not be soothed.
Her husband’s request for secrecy went unheeded, and she continued to enquire over and over again, her perturbation eventually taking hold of the entire family.
Uncharacteristically subdued, Elizabeth had no other choice but to explain, as calmly as she could, the extraordinary events — the coincidence of her being in one of her usual early morning haunts at the wrong moment.
She concealed most of the details of the heated argument she witnessed, only briefly mentioning the compensation for the living, as she knew it was one of the favourite complaints of Mr Wickham.
She underlined how Darcy had hurt his hand and that she had spotted Mr Wickham atop his horse, when he was close to Meryton, after leaving Darcy behind.
“That is all I know,” Elizabeth concluded. “If Papa approves, I shall tell Colonel Forster tomorrow and hope that the truth will soon be discovered. But, while we mourn Mr Wickham’s tragic passing, it pained me to discover that he had not been completely honest with us.”
Jane watched her sister, listening in silent scrutiny; never had Elizabeth kept something so important from her before.
She had always been her confidante. She did not dare reproach her, but Elizabeth noticed the shadow of hurt in her sister’s eyes, and she knew she would have to talk to Jane and explain as much as possible.
The others continued to chatter, to question, to doubt, to babble, to demand details, and Elizabeth tried to escape the hubbub altogether.
She felt defeated, disappointed, and, inexplicably, most of all she felt she had betrayed Darcy’s trust. She could not have imagined that her mother and Mr Collins would come to fetch them from her father’s book room, but still, she felt guilty for not being more careful, for speaking so unguardedly.
Dinner was finally served, but she had lost her appetite. She glanced at her father, but he seemed to be enjoying his meal with his usual disposition, ignoring the heated discussion among his companions that had yet to cease.
In the end, Mr Bennet decided to withdraw alone to his room earlier than usual, with the obvious purpose of escaping more conversation and concluding the agitated evening.
However, Mrs Bennet and her daughters, as well as Mr Collins, remained behind for another hour.
When at long last Elizabeth was permitted to retire and was on her way to her chamber, Hill whispered to her that Mr Bennet was waiting for her in the library.
She obliged him, wishing for nothing more than silence and a little bit of rest.
“Lizzy, I shall only keep you a moment, as I need your opinion. I have written to Mr Darcy, and I shall send the note tomorrow morning. Do you have anything to add?”
Elizabeth took the piece of paper and read it with some trepidation.
Mr Darcy,
I am sorry to inform you that, once again, fate has settled things on your behalf.
Due to a very unfortunate accident, a brief conversation between Lizzy and I was overheard by my wife and Mr Collins.
No harmful details were revealed, but the circumstances of your meeting with Wickham are no longer a secret.
Therefore, it appears that the decision has already been taken, possibly against or at least regardless of your wishes, and the next step is now mandatory before rumours spread further.
Tomorrow morning I shall accompany my daughter to meet the magistrate and Colonel Forster and attempt to conclude this matter — as it should be.
I can imagine your disapproval at reading this, and I apologise for the circumstances that created the necessity, but I strongly believe it is for the best.
I hope we shall have the opportunity to discuss this matter at length over a glass of brandy soon.
Sincerely,
T. Bennet
Elizabeth finished the letter, handed it back to her father, and nodded.
“I have nothing to add, Papa. I agree that this is for the best.”
Mr Bennet kissed her forehead.
“Very well, Lizzy. Now go to sleep and try to rest — you look pale and dispirited. No walk for you at sunrise, if you please. I shall see you tomorrow. Have a good night, my child.”
“Good night, Papa,” Elizabeth whispered.
Yes, she did need rest, peace, composure, and a good night’s sleep, but she doubted she would find any of it soon.