Chapter VII #2
“I have never and would never speak of such a thing with Miss Bingley, of all people. If Georgiana and Bingley ever found a mutual regard, I may agree to such a union, but that is hypothetical and unlikely, considering Georgiana’s opinion of Miss Bingley.
I am guessing, but I suspect Miss Bingley believes that accomplishing one marriage in the family makes it more likely she will accomplish a second. ”
“That is singular, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, now appearing diverted.
“A convoluted bit of logic, to be certain,” agreed Darcy. “It is even more curious when you consider that her ultimate goal is marriage to me. If she waits for Georgiana and Bingley, it will be at least another three years.”
“I shall not ask after your opinion of Miss Bingley, for I suspect I already know.”
“You should.”
Fitzwilliam turned back to the subject at hand. “Then Bingley’s sisters persuaded him against returning? What part did you play?”
Again, Darcy was not certain the truth would reflect well on him, but he could not refuse to respond.
“Miss Bingley carried the bulk of the argument. While I shall not say that I agreed with her position—whatever her family, connections, or fortune, Miss Bennet is the daughter of a gentleman—let us simply say that I did not disagree.”
“That is sophistry, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. “Even I, who do not know Bingley well, understand that he is much more likely to listen to you than his sisters.”
“Which is why I did not take part in the argument. My only contribution was to offer my opinion that Miss Bennet’s affections were not the equal of Bingley’s.”
“Of that, I can say nothing.” Fitzwilliam paused, considering. “Miss Elizabeth has spoken of her sister’s depressed spirits after Bingley’s departure, but I do not know the extent of her esteem.
“However,” said Fitzwilliam, “I cannot but say that your actions were a little officious, Darcy. What can Bingley’s happiness in marriage be to you?”
“Nothing other than my concern, as a friend, for his welfare.”
For several long moments, Fitzwilliam eyed him as if in judgment of his decisions, though Darcy knew his cousin was not so stern as that thought implied. At length, he sighed and nodded.
“Yes, I can understand a friendly concern for a companion of longstanding.”
“There was also my suspicion that Mrs. Bennet would not allow her daughter to refuse a proposal if Bingley offered one.”
Now Fitzwilliam’s face shone with amusement. “In this, at least, I can state without equivocation that you are incorrect.”
Darcy frowned. “Mrs. Bennet made it clear at Bingley’s ball that an alliance between Bingley and her eldest was most agreeable to her.”
“Perhaps she did,” said Fitzwilliam, his grin growing wider.
“Then again, the day after the ball, Mr. Collins—who, according to Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, is the most ridiculous man alive and is Lady Catherine’s parson—made it clear how agreeable an alliance with Miss Elizabeth would be to him. Yet now he is engaged to Miss Lucas.”
Several things fell into place at once, most concerning the ridiculous man who had prostrated himself before Darcy at Bingley’s ball.
Darcy’s focus that evening had been on Miss Bennet and searching for any evidence of regard for Bingley, but he could well remember watching the first dance, Collins’s ineptitude, and Miss Elizabeth’s annoyance.
Yet now that he thought on it, that first dance and several other occurrences that night spoke to Mr. Collins’s interest, no matter how inept his attempts at lovemaking.
“Collins proposed to Miss Elizabeth.”
“He did,” said Fitzwilliam, too gleeful for Darcy’s taste. “Miss Elizabeth refused him, no surprise given what I have heard of his character. Her mother made a fuss about it, but Mr. Bennet supported Miss Elizabeth, and that was that. Collins proposed to Miss Lucas two days later.”
“That is singular,” said Darcy, echoing Fitzwilliam’s earlier comment.
“It is,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “I have no direct knowledge, of course, but we have both heard Aunt Catherine drone on about the need for the clergy to set the example of matrimony in their parish. Hearing that Mr. Bennet had five daughters and possession of Mr. Collins’s future inheritance, I suspect she commanded him to engage himself to one of their number—she considered it a way to ensure the future support of Mr. Bennet’s daughters.
When his chosen sister did not fall in with his plans, he turned to another young lady of the neighborhood, not wishing to return to Lady Catherine in failure. ”
“That is as likely as any interpretation,” agreed Darcy, still feeling lightheaded.
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Then I hope you can see you misjudged Miss Bennet. Though she seldom shows it, Miss Bennet is no less determined than her sister. If Bingley had proposed and she was not of a mind to accept, she would have refused, and her father would have supported her, regardless of Mrs. Bennet’s caterwauling. ”
“That is curious,” replied Darcy, considering the family’s situation. “If Mr. Bennet should suffer an early demise, their principles will be cold comfort in the face of genteel poverty.”
“As their scruples are to my benefit, I shall not complain.”
“No, I suppose not,” was Darcy’s quiet reply.
“The question is, what you mean to do about it.”
For several long moments, Darcy regarded his cousin.
Fitzwilliam’s meaning was not hidden, for he had obviously deduced something in either Darcy’s behavior or the accounts of him from the Bennets.
What his cousin thought on the matter was less discernible.
Fitzwilliam would not oppose Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth, but he did not know what his cousin thought on the subject either.
“By ‘it,’ I assume you must mean Miss Elizabeth.”
“Careful, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, the first true grin he had shown since Darcy arrived the previous day. “My acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth is of sufficient intimacy to understand how she would react if she heard you referring to her as ‘it.’”
“I shall not quibble about who first used the term,” replied Darcy. “The truth is, I have no notion what I will do. Miss Elizabeth is an excellent young woman, but there are several drawbacks to any interest in her.”
“If there are, I should like you to explain them.”
Darcy shook his head, becoming exasperated with his cousin. “There is no need to explain—you understand them well enough yourself.”
“Perhaps you refer to dowry and connections,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Cousin,” said Darcy, not willing to discuss this any longer, “you know I cannot pursue her. As a younger son, you enjoy a freedom that I do not possess. My father married the daughter of an earl—my duty is to improve my family’s position in society and increase our wealth.
Miss Elizabeth cannot assist in either endeavor. ”
“That is utter nonsense, and you know it, Darcy,” was Fitzwilliam’s blunt reply. “Or you would, if you ever drew your head down from the clouds long enough to consider it.”
Darcy’s frown deepened. “I am better able to determine what is best for my situation, Cousin.”
“Then let us consider your points in turn, Darcy. I shall show you where you are in error.
“First, let us speak of your mother, my aunt. Yes, she was the daughter of an earl, but what of your great-grandmother? If my recollection of your family history is accurate, I believe she was the daughter of a minor country gentleman in Leicestershire whom your grandfather met while staying with a friend. How was she any different from Miss Elizabeth?”
“Well—” began Darcy, only for his cousin to interrupt again.
“Then let us speak of society. If I speak of my need to marry for money often, you speak even more about your distaste for society. You abhor young ladies searching for the wealthiest man you can find, yet you saddle yourself with Miss Bingley.”
“If I wish to retain Bingley’s friendship,” protested Darcy, “there is no other choice.”
“Yes, I suppose you are correct. My point had nothing to do with Miss Bingley and everything to do with how you see society.
As you have not had any success finding a wife in London, you should consider looking elsewhere—since I suspect you admire Miss Elizabeth, who better than she?
Moreover, you do not care for most of the connections you have; if you care little for Mrs. Bennet and her youngest daughters, at least she is not immoral.
“Then you spoke of increasing your wealth.” Fitzwilliam’s snort told Darcy what he thought of that consideration. “I was not aware that Pemberley was at risk of insolvency without a handsome dowry to prop it up.”
When Darcy found he could not reply, Fitzwilliam continued. “The fact is that you can afford twenty such wives as Miss Bennet and all their assorted children. I should think that happiness in marriage would be far more valuable than another influx of thirty thousand pounds.”
“And you suppose I would be happy with Miss Elizabeth for a wife?”
Fitzwilliam regarded him as if he were wondering about the soundness of Darcy’s mind.
“No, Darcy, I shall not presume to understand the finer points of your requirements for a wife. What I can say is that you are more likely to find contentment with a woman such as Miss Elizabeth, who is intelligent, witty, unpretentious, and pretty, than with a woman of the ton you will marry for nothing more than her fortune and connections. As we have established that you need neither of those virtues in a wife, why should you not choose a woman who is their superior?”