Chapter 11 Leaving Longbourn
Bennet rose, and Darcy’s eyes followed him.
“Mr. Darcy, my daughters are packed and ready to remove to Netherfield Park. I will ring and have the servants bring their trunks down.”
With that simple statement, reality settled swiftly and sharply upon him, and a chill ran up Darcy’s spine.
He was the very fool he had spoken of earlier in the visit, the fool who had taken upon himself the burden of five dowerless daughters.
He must be mad. What had he done? Beads of sweat gathered on his brow.
He drew out his handkerchief, wiping first his forehead, then his eyes.
His heart seemed to leap and stumble in his chest, and for one panicked moment, he thought he might faint.
So this was how Elizabeth must have felt when her whole world turned upside down, twice, on the night of the Netherfield ball. He breathed deeply, steadying himself. Mr. Bennet was still alive and the guardian to all five daughters. Darcy was taking only one as his wife and two as guests.
He paused to consider. Bingley was apparently deeply in love with Miss Bennet.
He would invite the Bingleys to join them at Pemberley.
Perhaps, before the summer ended, Bingley would marry Miss Jane Bennet.
The thought calmed him. Bingley would be all the more inclined to propose once Jane was connected to the Darcys.
If Darcy could also find a suitable match for Mary, then the last two Bennet daughters might be more easily settled.
Perhaps having Bingley near would bring Miss Elizabeth some comfort.
Seeing her sister happy in the company of her favorite would surely offer her solace through the coming ordeal.
Since when had he become a matchmaker? Why was he doing this?
His tongue. It all came down to his unruly tongue, his pride, and his prejudice.
He realized with sudden clarity how prone he was to judging others, and worse, to giving voice to those thoughts.
Richard would have a field day once he heard of this debacle.
He mopped his brow again as he walked out to the carriage.
Calling to his servants, he explained that they would be taking three trunks instead of two.
He paced the entrance hall of Longbourn while the ladies and their trunks were brought down.
He had just wiped his forehead for the third time when his eyes fell on Mr. Collins.
The man looked disgruntled, and worse, his gaze followed Elizabeth as she stepped through the door, raking over her figure like a starving dog.
Darcy flushed hot and moved forward to meet his intended.
As he drew near, he studied her face. She looked pale and wan, with faint blue shadows beneath her eyes.
She must have slept ill. His heart went out to her.
He had brought this disaster upon her through the wretched insult he had spoken in the presence of Caroline Bingley.
It had been a comedy of errors, though there was nothing humorous in it.
Bennet had even offered to give her to his cousin. Darcy grimaced. Under no circumstances would he permit that scoundrel to lay a hand upon her. Elizabeth must have seen his expression and mistaken it as censure, for she looked suddenly uncertain. He sought to correct the misunderstanding.
He guided her by the elbow toward the rose garden, far enough that Mr. Collins could not overhear. Glancing back, he saw her sisters and mother stepping out of the house. Turning to Elizabeth, he spoke quietly.
“Miss Elizabeth, I see the shadows beneath your eyes and must assume you did not sleep well last night. I take the blame upon myself. It is my fault that you are now suffering such anxiety. Had I not spoken that insult, Caroline would not have repeated it at the ball, and you would not have fled. I know you cannot forgive me, but I want you to know that I understand it was my fault, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. But more importantly, I will not allow you to fall into the power of that roué.”
Elizabeth met his clear brown eyes, framed by those lovely dark lashes. His expression was sincere; there was no trace of pride in his manner. She relaxed, her brow smoothing.
“Thank you, sir. I did not sleep last night for fear that you would feel ensnared this morning. Because I have four sisters, I am not free to walk away unmarried. But it is not too late for you to release yourself. Just now, I told Papa that this entire embroglio was caused by Mr. Collins and me. You warned me at the ball that I was not safe and that I must not allow myself to be alone, but I did not listen. I was angry and hurt, and I fled. Then Mr. Collins, disregarding all propriety, entered the room, knowing I was alone, and placed his hands upon my arms.”
Her hand fluttered to cover her mouth. “I told Papa that Mr. Collins and I alone should suffer the consequences of the compromise.” She looked into Darcy’s eyes once more. “It is not too late for you, sir. If you harbor any doubts, please speak now.”
She stood quietly, watching him. Their eyes locked together for what could have been a lifetime.
After a long moment, he said, “No, Miss Elizabeth. I do not repent my decision. I choose to marry you.”
She reached out and placed her hand upon his. “Papa told me you believe yourself the cause of this embroglio. You are not. It was I. I should not have left my father’s side. I was safe with him. Mr. Darcy, do you truly wish to marry me?”
Darcy was struck by her courage, her willingness to speak plainly, to release him, even while she faced her cousin’s threat.
She accepted responsibility for her own part in the affair.
What he felt in that moment was something new to him.
Something he had not felt for a woman. Was it admiration? Affection? Protectiveness?
He placed his hand over hers. “I wish to marry you, Miss Elizabeth. I want to protect you and shield you from all that you fear. I give you my pledge, you will be safe with me.”
She smiled faintly. “Very well then, sir. You may help me into your carriage.”
Bennet stood upon the road, watching the carriage roll away with his three eldest daughters. Somehow, he knew that none of them would ever return to his home to live again as maidens. His spirits fell. He was not accustomed to despondency, yet he felt it keenly now.
His wife’s shrill voice broke his reverie.
“Oh, Mr. Bennet, Lizzy will be married by the end of the week, and perhaps Jane will catch Mr. Bingley while she sojourns at Netherfield Park. Who could have foretold such good fortune? Lady Lucas will be green with envy!”
Collins stared at Frances in disbelief, and Bennet flushed with shame. He must take his wife in hand. If Lydia could be reclaimed, so too could her mother, and he would reclaim her if it was the last thing he did.
He turned toward the house and invited Collins to accompany him, but paused to address his wife.
“Frances, you will not take the carriage out today. It is no part of my plan to allow you to gossip about our daughters to the denizens of Meryton.” He gestured toward Mr. Collins.
“You have the heir to account to now, madam. He will be responsible for you should I die tomorrow. It would be well for you not to bring shame upon him or his house.”
She looked at her husband, surprised and embarrassed. “Sir, I do not know what you mean.”
He huffed. “Oh, I believe you do. You may go indoors and see to Lizzy’s room.
Have it cleaned and made up, for she will no longer live here at Longbourn.
Leave Jane and Mary’s rooms as they are; perhaps they will return, though I doubt it.
When you have given Hill your instructions, you may join me in my study.
We will begin reclaiming your mind today, so that you may become more acceptable to the heir.
Who knows? You might even be so altered that he will feel charity for you when he inherits and finds you come with the property.
Or perhaps one of your sons will take you. ”
He gave a sardonic grin. “But as you are now, no one would have you.”
Drawing out his watch, he added, “Shall we say two o’clock? That gives you two hours to harry poor Hill about the empty bedchambers before you present yourself in my study.”
Turning to Collins, he said, “Come, sir. I wish to review the ledgers with you this morning. They are very straightforward; it will not take long.”
The two men moved toward the study, while Mrs. Bennet stood motionless where he had left her, rooted to the threshold of the house.
Bennet felt a pang of guilt. He had been too cruel.
All the shame and frustration he had endured during the twenty-three years of his marriage seemed to be breaking loose at last. Perhaps it was because his emotions were frayed from losing Lizzy in so painful a manner.
Her courage in facing a marriage to a stranger had undone him, and now every pent-up frustration, every regret, was spilling out with his helplessness to save her.
There was no escape. She must marry, and Mr. Darcy, at least, was an honorable man.
In the short time they had known him, he had never spoken a lewd word, nor cast a disrespectful or lecherous glance at any of his daughters.
Not so with Collins, who could scarcely remove his eyes from Elizabeth, staring at her as though he were stripping her bare.
Bennet shivered. No, Elizabeth had no choice.
She must marry, but not Mr. Collins. She could never endure the indignities that union would bring.
He drew out the ledgers for the past two years and placed them before his cousin. Opening the oldest, he began methodically to explain each category, each figure, and the improvements made to increase the yield for the following year. Two hours passed before the men completed the review.