Chapter 32 The Discussion
The Discussion
Mr Bennet laughed softly and asked, “What is a ‘prejection’ Elizabeth? Is that a word at all?”
“No, but it should be—and every lady ought to have at least one in her life. I feel as if I barely escaped a pistol shot one moment, and a bayonet the next. It is quite exhilarating,” she said, entirely too excited about her narrow escape.
“I am so happy we are alone, so I can avail myself of such unladylike analogies.”
“Tell me about these prejections then. If you are going to coin words, you ought at least to define them,” the gentleman returned jovially.
Elizabeth joined him in laughter and seated herself in her favourite chair facing his desk.
“It means pre-emptive rejection. The usual course of affairs is rather inefficient. The lady waits quietly and demurely until the man proposes and then must reject him if he is unsuitable. Last night, I discovered that some men will pre-emptively reject you out of hand, thus sparing the trouble. Mr Darcy cast me off without having bothered to earn my good opinion in the first place. I used his name to convince Mr Collins to follow his lead. I contrived to pre-emptively reject Mr Collins without hurting his feelings. Naturally, Mr Darcy was never an object in the first place, so it all worked out quite neatly, if I do say so myself.”
Bennet frowned. “Mr Darcy? I had no idea he was pursuing you.”
“He was not, but he thought himself such a fine catch that I must be chasing him, and therefore the trifling attention he paid me might have given the wrong impression, since I am, as you so often assert, ‘silly and ignorant like other girls’. If that is his idea of making love, it is no wonder one of the wealthiest men in England remains unwed while approaching the age of infirmity,” she said with a gay little laugh.
Leaning forward, she asked plaintively, “Can you imagine? He went from not handsome enough to tempt me, to supposing I might have expectations without so much as an acknowledgement, let alone an apology—even when I practically handed it to him on a platter.”
Bennet chuckled. “So, you are well quit of both gentlemen, I take it?”
“Yes! I directed Mr Collins toward the vastly more suitable Mary and Charlotte, so there is no telling what he will do. Perhaps he will be sensible, though a gambling man would not stake much upon it.”
“And Mr Darcy?”
“Returned to wherever rich men go. I only hope he does not break Jane’s heart by dragging Mr Bingley with him. It seems like the sort of thing he might attempt.”
Bennet stroked his chin, muttering, “Interesting… interesting… fascinating, in fact.”
After a moment, he glanced toward the window and asked loudly, “Have you anything to add, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth groaned and looked to see the man standing near the window with something between a frown and a smirk on his face.
Livid, she snapped, “A gentleman would have made his presence known, sir.”
Bennet laughed. “He would have required a crowbar to insert a word in edgewise.”
“Still—” she mumbled but desisted in exasperation.
Noting a two to one male to female ratio, she suspected the prospects of anything sensible being said in that room were not auspicious.
Darcy said, “I do apologise for eavesdropping, Miss Elizabeth, but it was instructive.”
“I suppose exposure to common sense must be quite a novel experience for you,” she retorted angrily, and again when he merely laughed. The fact that her father joined in did not help, and she found her previously ecstatic mood as diminished as if he had emptied a bucket of water on her head.
Darcy said, “I will agree to your assertion about common sense, particularly after a month in the same house with Bingley’s sisters, and I will admit to a certain amount of novelty in hearing speech unconstrained by propriety’s sometimes ridiculous rules.”
Not wishing to prolong the disagreeable experience, she abruptly rose. “Well, I shall leave the two of you to your sport. Excuse me!”
She had just curtseyed and turned toward the door when Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth… pray, allow me to say what I came to say.”
While she was tempted to proceed, she did have a slight bit of curiosity. “Why?”
“I came here expressly to speak to you, so while I have not earned the privilege of your attention, I hope you will be generous enough to grant it. You need not fear censure over last night’s conversation, as I have no complaints.”
She looked to her father who seemed as if he might laugh himself under the desk given the chance, then back to the Derbyshire gentleman who at least had the sense to attempt an appearance of repentance, though his success was indifferent at best. It never occurred to her to feel the least bit sorry for what she had said, since it was all entirely true and obviously only what he deserved.
With a sigh, she returned to the chair. “Let us conclude this miserable chore. Say what you must.”
Bennet asked, “Is this something that should be said in private?”
Elizabeth snapped angrily, “No! There is not a single thing Mr Darcy can have to say to me that requires privacy, and I have had one too many private audiences already today. Since a good part of our discourse was in the middle of an assembly, and his prejection was ten yards from the Bingley sisters; I believe you are welcome to enjoy your sport. It is not as though you have anything productive to do.”
Both gentlemen frowned slightly, but Darcy briskly stepped closer and indicated the chair in front of the desk. When Elizabeth seated herself in a bit of a huff, he took the opposite chair and began rather softly.
“I have several things I wish to say, and I would beg your indulgence to hear them all.”
Elizabeth thought that sounded like a poor beginning, but once again determined she would have to be the one with manners. “I will not promise to refrain from comment, but I will listen.”
“That is all I ask,” he said, then sat in pensive thought.
With a sigh, he regarded her intently. “I have three topics to discuss: apologies, epiphanies, and ambitions. I would hope you are willing to listen to all three.”
“If I must,” she said, idly thinking he had somehow gone from being as taciturn as her father to as voluble as her mother with nothing between. She was not entirely convinced it was an improvement.
“My first task is to apologise profusely for what I said at the assembly. Aside from those being the stupidest words I have ever uttered; they were also untrue and ungentlemanly. If you ask your father candidly, I suppose he will agree that most young men say quite a number of exceedingly stupid things, but that diatribe might well have been the worst in my lifetime. Furthermore, I was aware I had spoken ill and should have apologised to you at least a month ago. I do not expect you to blithely accept my apology, but I offer it in good faith that you will one day be willing to forgive me.”
Elizabeth barely resisted her first inclination to answer bitterly, and her second to answer impertinently, and her third to lash out angrily, and her fourth to make sport of her neighbours like her father.
In some proof that the male portion of the audience had some little bit of sense, neither Mr Darcy nor her father said anything.
With a sigh, she finally resorted to her last line of defence in confusing situations, and asked herself, what would Jane do?
That produced an impulse to be forgiving, but she discarded that as well.
She finally said, “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
Proceeding carefully, she asked, “When Sir William interrupted us with the news that the neighbourhood was expecting the obvious, considering how much attention your friend was paying my sister, you looked as though you were swallowing stones. After that, I noticed you paying quite a lot of attention to Jane, and of course, we both know how badly my mother and the rest of my sisters behaved the rest of the night—not that my manners during our dance were anything to boast of.”
Darcy frowned but simply nodded.
“Pray, be honest… were you intending to dissuade your friend from my sister?”
Darcy looked like a man standing on a scaffold with a noose around his neck and finally sighed.
“I considered it. Had we not spoken, I cannot honestly say what I might have done, so I may well be due your pre-emptive condemnation.”
“I assume that, like his sisters, you find her fortune, connections, and so forth inadequate. You cannot possibly condemn my family’s manners, since all evidence suggests that, as bad as they are, it would improve the overall civility of Mr Bingley’s connections.
And of course, marrying the daughter of a gentleman would raise his status in society. ”
Bennet asked gently, “Is Jane speaking in your mind, saying, Lizzy, that is unkind.”
She shrugged, “She would because she is the best of us. She would even refrain from pointing out the obvious: that it is unkind but true.”
Darcy sighed and clasped his hands nervously. “I will readily admit that those things gave me some pause, but our discussion last night has made me reconsider, although not in the way you might think.”
She nodded for him to continue.
“While I was concerned with the almost total want of propriety for your mother and younger sisters—which you yourself agree with—I was mostly concerned that she regarded him precisely as she does everyone. I perceived no symptom of particular regard, but entirely too much evidence that Mrs Bennet would press her relentlessly to accept regardless of her own sentiments, should Bingley propose. She declared it outright at supper, many times, with little room for ambiguity.”
In a blinding flash of anger, she rose and was halfway to the door, seething, when her father interceded. “You promised to listen all the way through, Lizzy. Do you intend to renege on your word? More importantly, can you dispute the statement?”
She halted just short of the door, and slowly returned to her chair, still seething yet honour bound to listen.
Darcy said, “Thank you. If I may proceed.”
She nodded curtly.
“I mentioned that I have both apologies and epiphanies to discuss, and I emphasise the plural state of those words. Not only did I speak in an ungentlemanlike manner at the assembly, but I also said some disparaging remarks among the Netherfield party for the first few weeks. I apologise for them as well.”
“Yes, yes, forgiven and so forth,” she said in a tone of voice that Jane would most likely chastise her for, but the gentlemen supposed it was the best they could expect.
“The first of two epiphanies came after our rather ridiculous discussion, when I learned that I had entirely mistaken your animosity. I eventually realised that, since I could not decipher your feelings when I had ten times the acquaintance with you as your sister, I was certainly ill qualified to dabble in the dark arts of deciphering Miss Bennet’s. ”
“So, you will not interfere?” she asked anxiously.
“With your permission, I will tell him two things. The first is that none of us have the slightest chance of ascertaining Bingley’s or Miss Bennet’s feelings, nor are we entitled to an opinion. Their mutual feelings are not our business.”
She released a heavy sigh of relief. “I thank you. That is all I ask. Jane is modest and shy, but if your friend cannot discern her feelings, he deserves to die alone and miserable.”
Darcy gave a grim chuckle. “If he yields to his sisters’ wiles, that is precisely how it will be.
Oh, he will be married indeed, but the type of women they favour would be worse than being alone.
That will be my second warning—to entirely ignore his sisters whose motivations are their own, and most likely do not align with his. ”
For the first time since the room’s two lunkheaded inhabitants emptied that bucket of water on her head, she felt as though one of them was handing her a towel—or at least, stepping aside so a maid could do so.
She giggled slightly at the rather mediocre quality of her metaphor. “I am entirely satisfied.”
He nodded in acknowledgement.
She finally asked, “Are we finished?”
Bennet said, “I count two apologies, one epiphany and no ambitions, so I doubt it.”
“Agreed. May I proceed, Miss Elizabeth?”
Since Jane was now tolerably safe from the man, she felt generous and not only nodded, but gave him a small, though forced, smile, and nodded for him to proceed.
Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Mr Bennet had rung the bell for tea ten minutes earlier, so their discussion was interrupted by a maid bearing the tray.
They paused for tea, and while Elizabeth prepared and served, she noticed something quite odd.
For the first time since the arrival of the Netherfield gentlemen, she could serve the man tea with no temptation to add poison.