The Fraught Discussion #2
“Of course not! Anyone who would take advice about women from Darcy would have to have rocks in his head,” he began, but then he broke off, gulped nervously, and turned to Jane. “No offence, Miss Bennet.”
“None taken, Colonel,” Jane replied sweetly, apparently unwilling to re-litigate that dispute.
“Who was your adviser?” Elizabeth asked.
He leaned a little more towards the ladies, though more to Mary than the others.
“I began with the people I know: my mother, aunts, cousins, sisters, and the like. That effort went down in bitter defeat almost immediately. None of them know a single lady willing to endure rough conditions and a pittance of an income; and to be frank, if there were any women in London society I could endure, I should have discovered them by now.”
Elizabeth tried to speak a couple of times, but at last desisted.
The colonel blundered on. “Fortunately, by pure happenstance, I renewed the acquaintance of the smartest woman I ever met. She lived near our estate when I was a boy. She is about five or ten years older, and she gave me very good advice once or twice—one of which prevented me from making a terrible mistake. I renewed the acquaintance last week and found her older, wiser, and still cleverer than any three men. I laid out my problem in all its gory detail. She chose Miss Mary, explained her reasoning, and here I am.”
All four ladies shook their heads in confusion, and Mary blurted out, “Who is this paragon, colonel?”
He looked happy to have diverted her from the fact that she had an open sort-of proposal unanswered. “I knew her as Miss Madeline Lewis. Now of course, she is—”
“Mrs Gardiner,” Jane said. She then surprised everyone by asking, somewhat sarcastically, “While we all love our aunt dearly, do you not find it the least bit suspicious that the best woman she could devise is her own niece?”
Mary took up the refrain, “Who is mostly unmarriageable, and was not particularly popular even before her sister brought disgrace on their heads.”
Elizabeth added, “Something like engaging a ferret to guard your henhouse.”
The colonel laughed uproariously, and the four ladies joined in somewhat, though they were only capable of nervous twitters at best.
The colonel said, “I do trust her, but I also have… others,” he added somewhat mysteriously.
Elizabeth thought Mr Darcy was trying to do a good turn, though whether for the colonel or Mary was hard to say. There were only so many Charlottes in the world, though Mary was close.
He continued, “I understand it is a leap of faith, and I hate to ask so precipitously, but I shall, nevertheless. Miss Mary Bennet, would you do me the great honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”
He ended on his knee before her with her hands in his without permission, and without any of the ladies having seen him move.
Mary looked confused and then turned to her sister. “Lizzie, what do you think?”
“I cannot decide for you, Mary.”
“No, and I would not take your instruction anyway. You can, however, give me your opinion.”
Elizabeth considered for a few minutes while everyone, including the colonel, regarded her.
She at last sighed. “It is all very fast, but I have conversed with the colonel far more than Charlotte ever did with Mr Collins, yet she is content. I know no evil of him and suspect he is five times the man our cousin is. Had he asked to court me last Easter in Hunsford, I would have accepted. Had he asked for my hand, I would have requested more time without qualms.”
Mary considered for a few minutes, while Elizabeth pondered deeply.
Elizabeth finally said, “Let us not forget that Mr Darcy esteems him, and I trust his judgment.”
Mary and Kitty, having no notion of all that had passed with that particular gentleman, were startled at her change of opinion, but Elizabeth shook her head slightly to dissuade them from awkward questions.
Elizabeth added, “Mr Darcy senior also trusted him enough to make him co-guardian to his daughter, and I imagine that signifies something.” She omitted the obvious flaw in that argument—that the same gentleman had esteemed Wickham and recommended him for the church.
Mary turned to the colonel. “I know very little of you and apparently have little time to decide. How do you suppose a marriage would proceed?”
“I would honour you, treat you well, respect you, involve you in our decisions, and adhere strictly to my vows. Beyond that, we should have to determine how to live and be happy, just as many other couples have. I have some faith we might be very happy. I understand your father has not upheld all his vows. I would strive to do better.”
Mary thought about it until she heard her mother begin to call, “HILL! HILL!”
With a grimace, she said, “I suppose that answers the question,” which made Elizabeth chuckle and Jane frown disapprovingly.
“Excellent!” the colonel cried jovially, then sprang up, drawing Mary to her feet.
The sisters wondered just how far a newly engaged soldier would deviate from propriety, but when all he did was give his intended a broad grin and a chaste kiss on each knuckle, they reflected that sometimes discretion was the better part of valour.
The fact that he was a somewhat old soldier and still in one piece probably explained his caution.
Mary spoke pensively. “Colonel, would you think me ungrateful or unladylike if I would like my sisters at my wedding but not my parents, who have never lifted a finger in my behalf?”
Jane came close to frowning, while Kitty sniggered a little.
The colonel chuckled. “They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and all soldiers have a certain fondness for cold meals.”
Elizabeth looked fascinated by this side of the man, while Jane looked pensive, as if she could not decide whether the idea of revenge was repulsive and against her nature, or admirable and something she ought to embrace.
Mary looked disturbed by her apparently future husband, even though she had never actually uttered any variant of the word yes.
Elizabeth, in a bid to lessen the awkwardness, said, “Perhaps so, but others say the best revenge is living well.”
Mary looked at her gratefully and reached over to squeeze her hand, saying just a bit too brightly, “If I am to be married by Monday, we had best set about it.”
The colonel beamed. “I would have it no other way. I have my brother’s large coach with fresh horses, and we could reach town by nightfall if we move with alacrity.”
With that, they all hurried from the room as if it were infested.
They drew straws to determine who would write notes for their parents.
Elizabeth gave the Hills a modestly accurate rendition of what they were about, but nobody wished to beard the lion in her den.
They all felt a little guilty about leaving the servants to manage their mother, but not guilty enough to alter their course.
Within the hour, they were all on their way to pursue Mary’s fate.
Mrs Bennet appeared a few hours later, quite confused to find all her daughters missing with nothing but a note that made no sense at all.
However, since a note could not pour more water on her head, and the servants gave every indication they might clear up her mess of a bed without Mary standing guard over the door, she thought the situation improving.