Chapter Nineteen #3
Jane disappeared up the stairs, but Mrs. Bennet was not ready to allow Elizabeth to retreat to her chamber. “Did you meet Mr. Collins?” she asked, her voice little more than a murmur after a glance down the hall.
“No, Mama, I did not,” Elizabeth replied as she removed her gloves, her thoughts already on the conversation she would have to begin with both her father and Mr. Darcy. “Who is he?”
Her mother wrung her hands. “He is the heir to Longbourn, Elizabeth, and very interested in you.”
Elizabeth stopped and gave her mother a very cold stare. “Why is that, Mama?”
“Well,” Mrs. Bennet said, beginning a nervous sort of chatter, “for marriage, of course. He is here to select a wife from among your sisters.” She patted Elizabeth’s cheek.
“I told him that Jane, well, you know Jane and Mr. Bingley are likely to be very shortly engaged, but that you are entirely unattached.” She sighed happily and grasped her daughter’s hands.
“He wished to meet you both, but I told him so many nice things about you. Is it not wonderful, Elizabeth? You would be the mistress of Longbourn one day, always connected to us, to your family, your real family.” She glanced outside.
“He was on his way to Netherfield for a visit. Did you not happen to see him?”
Her head began to throb, and then to ache behind her eyes, and Elizabeth tried to think up something to say that would neither hurt her mother’s feelings nor betray her own horror at the thought.
I am not two minutes in this house before she is after me.
I cannot do this. I cannot. She drew in a steadying breath.
“I shall put this plainly, Mama,” Elizabeth said, the words rough and strange to her ears. “No.”
“No, you did not see him? How strange…”
“No, I have no wish to become the mistress of Longbourn, Mama. Not through marriage.” Nor any other way. This estate has been such a burden to Papa.
Her mother’s smile vanished, and her grip tightened. “But, Elizabeth…”
Elizabeth removed her hands and touched the side of her head. “Mama,” she said, cutting off what she was sure would be a litany of complaints, “I will not marry simply to please you. I must first please myself.”
“Selfish girl!” Mrs. Bennet cried, the words bouncing off the marble floor in an angry echo. “You always think of yourself first.”
No, Mama, that is you, Elizabeth thought instantly, and then scolded herself.
“Be that as it may,” she replied steadily, “when Mr. Collins returns, I expect you to set the man straight. I am not for him.” She handed her things to Mr. Hill and saw that his frown matched her own.
What is he thinking? Does he find me selfish, too?
Should I not be allowed to choose for myself the man I wish to wed?
This conversation would be over if she informed her mother what was happening in her father’s study, but she could not bring herself to tell Mama until she had laid out her unusual circumstances for Mr. Darcy. She did not think he would be deterred, but she did not wish to risk it.
Once Mama knew that Mr. Darcy had asked for a courtship, she would announce it to her friends as though there was a definite engagement, would begin planning a wedding, and would make a grand performance out of the whole affair.
Elizabeth dreaded it, even more for her sisters than herself.
She would soon be in London; she was not even sure she wished to be married from Longbourn.
After her uncle’s death, she had not thought of marrying, much less a wedding.
She did not know how to broach such a sensitive topic with her mother, but if there were any arrangements to be made, she would make them with Aunt Olivia.
She was in the right. She knew it. But it did not stop her from feeling guilty as her mother fluttered her handkerchief and fled upstairs in a fit of tears.
Bingley’s audience with Mr. Bennet had been swift. He was in and out of the man’s study in less than a quarter of an hour, and after shaking Darcy’s hand, was off to seek Miss Bennet. Darcy had high hopes as he entered that his request would be just as quickly granted.
Mr. Bennet was standing near some bookshelves, selecting a book when Darcy cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Bennet, but might I have a word?”
Mr. Bennet removed a book and moved back to his desk. “Yes, Mr. Darcy?” he asked. He brushed a strand of white hair from his forehead and fixed his attention on the title of the tome. “Have you come to inquire after another of my daughters?”
Darcy was unsure what to make of the man’s flippant statement but determined to be straightforward. “I have.”
The older man looked up and blinked. “I was in jest, sir.” He frowned and waved at a set of chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
He selected a chair and eased his long frame into it. “Mr. Bennet,” he began, slightly unnerved by the pensive expression upon the man’s face, “I am here to request a formal courtship with Miss Elizabeth.”
“I knew Mary was holding something back,” he clucked. “I shall have to speak with her.” He looked up to address Darcy more directly. “Is there something in the air over there at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy stared back. He was unsure how to respond to what he thought was a joke. But why would a father joke about a request for formal courtship of one of his daughters?
Mr. Bennet seemed amused by his confusion. “You have spoken with Lizzy and she has accepted this courtship?” Mr. Bennet removed his glasses and tossed them on the desk.
Darcy nodded. “I have and she has, sir.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes warmed. “Did she give you much grief about it first?”
He shuffled his feet, sheepish. “She did, sir.”
This confession was met with a small laugh from Mr. Bennet, and Darcy realized that Elizabeth’s laugh had come from the Bennet side of the family.
“You have no doubt surmised that I have granted permission for your friend to court Jane,” Mr. Bennet said slowly, sitting down and leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He tapped his fingers together. “Elizabeth is more complicated.”
Darcy felt his heart began to beat a little faster. “How so?”
The man raised a hand. “Do not panic, son. I am not going to refuse you if Elizabeth has accepted.” He moved to the bell pull.
“It is simply that we must also write my aunt. I may be her guardian in law, but she is Elizabeth’s guardian in truth.
” He waited by the door. “I should not wish to run afoul of her trustee, either.” A maid arrived, and Mr. Bennet requested tea.
After the girl returned to the kitchen, he turned to Darcy.
“I presume Elizabeth has explained all of that to you.” He took his seat again and leaned back in his chair.
“There is much she has not related even to me, but I have my suspicions.”
Darcy was bemused. He had expected Mr. Bennet to ask about his intentions, his income, his ability to support a family, even his connections, but the man seemed almost uninterested in those matters.
He thought Mr. Bennet meant to call Miss Elizabeth to have tea with them, but instead, he had the maid pour for two, and when she left, he raised his cup and sipped his drink.
He spoke again only once he set the teacup back in its saucer.
“Mr. Darcy, first, I should tell you what I told Mr. Bingley some time ago, when I noticed his attentions to my eldest daughter. The girls all have dowries that while not the equal of his sisters, will still allow them a comfortable independence should I pass before they are wed.” Darcy felt distinctly uncomfortable at such an allusion, and Mr. Bennet chuckled.
“Do not you worry, Mr. Darcy. As far as I know, I am in excellent health.”
“Bingley may not be when I see him next,” Darcy grumbled, and Mr. Bennet laughed again.
“I did ask him to keep that under his hat, Mr. Darcy,” he said, waggling his rather bushy eyebrows. “It is good to know the man can keep a secret.” He cleared his throat. “However, Lizzy herself does not possess a dowry.”
Darcy felt that the older man was studying him closely, and he refused to respond to that last bit of information. Finally, Mr. Bennet sighed deeply.
“I suppose,” he said, “I should begin at the beginning. When I am finished, we will call for Lizzy to fill in the parts she has not yet revealed to me.”
Darcy agreed. “She did ask whether I planned to stay the day,” he admitted. “I thought she was perhaps exaggerating.”
Elizabeth’s father smiled, a wistful twist to his lips. “She has been known to exaggerate, Mr. Darcy, but typically only in the service of a joke. In this case… well, let me tell you my part in the story, and you can be the judge.”
Elizabeth washed her hands and face in the warm water Mrs. Hill had sent up and tried to regain her composure.
She had not been far off when she told Aunt Olivia she felt like a ten-year-old girl when she was with her mother.
Fanny Bennet was the only person she knew who could push her to such a childish outburst with so little effort.
Even Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had not elicited this kind of response, and that was after a month of verbal assaults.
Now Mama would feel ill-used and be a trial for her sisters and the maids much of the day, no doubt the source of Mr. Hill’s displeasure.
Perhaps Jane’s news will cheer her up. She collapsed in her desk chair and laid her head on her folded arms.
She had time. Papa would call for her when her presence was required.