Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
MONDAY, 9 DECEMBER 1811
T he time had finally arrived for Elizabeth to confront her father. He had avoided her when she visited Longbourn on Friday, did not come to Netherfield on Saturday or to Lucas Lodge that evening and stayed home from church on Sunday. It was clear he was avoiding her, but she would not allow it any longer.
As previously arranged with Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth and Darcy arrived at Longbourn early Monday morning. Elizabeth intended to arrive when no one else would be downstairs, knowing Mr. Bennet rose early and repaired to his study to avoid the rest of his family.
Just before nine, the Darcy carriage arrived at Longbourn, and the door opened before the couple even had time to step down. Mrs. Hill showed them directly to Mr. Bennet’s bookroom. After a sharp rap on the door, similar to the one Mrs. Hill typically employed when she brought the master his tea, she heard the call of “Come.”
Elizabeth entered just behind Longbourn’s housekeeper, who carried a tea tray with three cups. After pouring tea for Elizabeth and then Darcy, the housekeeper finally prepared Mr. Bennet’s cup and set it in front of him.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked in her usual manner.
“I suppose I should ask why you have allowed two people to enter my private room without my permission,” Mr. Bennet said with asperity.
“The Mistress, she told me to show them straight to your study when they arrived. Besides it is Miss Lizzy, sir, and she has always had free reign of the house and your study. You do not mean to suggest that the room is off limits to her now, do you?” Mrs. Hill asked in pretended innocence.
Mr. Bennet frowned and dismissed the servant before turning his gaze on his uninvited guests. “I suppose you have come to complain about how ill-treated you were, eh, Lizzy?” he remarked with a cynical smile. “You could have had it far worse, my dear. At least you were still unmarried when Mr. Darcy found you again. Had I had my way, you would have married Collins long ago. I must admit, I thought him a more sensible man from his letters. Still, I suppose it is for the best, as even you would have had a hard time with the man.”
Elizabeth’s expression hardened. “So I should be grateful, should I?” she retorted, her tone laced with mockery. “It is a miracle of chance that your schemes failed, and I should thank you for it, I suppose. For four years, I lived with a broken heart while you squandered the money intended to secure my happiness on your own whims. You would have married me off to that man—a fool, if ever I met one—and condemned me to a life with him treating me as a mere possession, a servant in his house? But then, that seems to be how you have viewed me all along, does it not?”
Mr. Bennet waved his hand dismissively. “You would have had Longbourn, Lizzy, and stayed close to your family. At sixteen, you were hardly capable of making a proper decision. Mr. Collins might not be as handsome or as rich as this gentleman here, but you would have managed him easily enough. He is weak, a man who needs a strong hand to guide him, and I daresay you would have made it work.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, struggling to breathe through her rising anger. “You cannot have it both ways, sir,” she said, her voice tense. “Either I would have been content to be married to a fool or miserable with him, but not both. As it stands, my decision at sixteen to accept Mr. Darcy’s proposal has proven to be the right one. At twenty, I cannot imagine a better husband, or a better man. No, Father—you are the weak one here. You accepted money for the fleeting satisfaction it brought you, giving no thought to the consequences for me or anyone else in this family.”
She took a steadying breath, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Even now, I suspect you are contemplating how to convince Fitzwilliam to pay you what you imagine you are owed. Despite all your efforts, Collins refused to come sooner, delaying the marriage you had planned for years. Even if he had come, I would not have submitted to your schemes. The day you introduced him and declared what was expected, I would have found a way to leave Longbourn, one way or another.
“I cannot fathom the depth of your selfishness to plan this, to accept money in exchange for my happiness. You were never truly a father to any of us girls. The love I thought you had for me, as your proclaimed favourite, was not even that much, for you only wanted me here as an unpaid steward.”
Mr. Bennet hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. “I wanted to give you Longbourn,” he said, his voice lacking its usual confidence. “You would have married my heir, and I believed from his letters that he would have allowed you to guide him. If I trained you as a steward, it was so one day you might manage the estate as its true master.”
Elizabeth’s laugh rang out, sharp and disbelieving. “Do not claim you acted out of any affection for me. That is absurd. Your only aim was to tie me to Longbourn, ensuring I stayed here to manage everything in your stead. You cannot possibly expect me to believe that his letters ever painted him as a man who would bow so easily to your demands. For years, you schemed to lure him to Longbourn to marry me, yet he refused, citing his own reasons. What did you imagine would suddenly change once I became his wife? He is completely devoted to his former patroness and now lives in fear of losing his position, knowing she lacked the authority to appoint him in the first place.”
Darcy spoken then, his voice edged with contempt for the man sitting in front of them. “Even now, despite our marriage and that of Miss de Bourgh, he clings to the delusion that both unions could be annulled by his late patroness, as if we were mere pieces on a chessboard for her to rearrange at her will. He has convinced himself that Elizabeth could still yet be his wife and that I would be relegated to marry my cousin by force of some imagined authority.”
He stood up straighter, glaring at his wife’s father as he continued. “Tell me, sir, is this the husband you deemed suitable for your daughter? I endured less than half an hour in his company and had more than one passing thought of shipping him off to the Hebrides. To condemn Elizabeth to a lifetime with such a man would have been nothing short of cruelty to the daughter you claim as your favourite.”
With each word, his anger grew, his eyes blazing as they locked onto Mr. Bennet’s. The air in the room thickened, the weight of Darcy’s condemnation laying forth bare truths too long ignored. Mr. Bennet’s mask of indifference cracked, revealing the guilt and discomfort he could no longer hide.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “I could not refuse the money. The scheme to marry Elizabeth to Mr. Collins came later, a convenient excuse when you inevitably arrived. When you returned, I hesitated, but with my wife and daughters absent, it was easier to claim she was already married than to admit the truth.”
Darcy’s response was cold and cutting. “There is much you could not manage. Your daughters have suffered the consequences of your negligence and indifference. A wise man would have safeguarded some of that money for their futures. Properly invested, even six thousand pounds could have provided dowries or ensured their future security. Instead, you squandered it. Had you somehow forced Elizabeth into marriage with Collins, your other daughters still would have faced futures as bleak as ever. While you might place the burden of their education on your wife, it was your duty to equip her with the tools necessary to fulfil that role. Yet you did not. Whatever your daughters have learned, they owe to others—not to you. Instead of doing anything to benefit your family, you sat here, ignoring them and allowing them to continue in ignorance.”
Darcy’s voice grew harsher, but Elizabeth’s steady hand on his arm stopped him before his tirade could continue. “It is of no matter now, Fitzwilliam,” she said gently. “Mama has invited the Gardiners to spend Christmas here at Longbourn. When they return to London, Kitty and Lydia will accompany them. Mama has realised they require proper schooling, and my husband has graciously offered his assistance to make it happen.” This last was directed at her father, who flushed in indignation.
“Am I to have no say in this? No request for my permission, nor even my opinion? I am their father, am I not?” he challenged.
“Are you?” Mrs. Bennet asked, entering the room with an uncharacteristic quiet. “In the last fifteen years, you have scarcely involved yourself in the education of any of your daughters except for Lizzy who you taught to manage the estate in your stead. You left the youngest three entirely to my care, and I did my best with them although I was not raised a gentlewoman. I did the best that I could, and you watched me, knowing it was not enough. I now understand that Kitty and Lydia require a proper education to prepare them for society.
She took a breath, glancing at Mr. Bennet, who appeared taken aback. “Now that Lizzy is married, she can introduce the girls to other young men. But they will need to learn proper decorum before they can be received in society. A governess might have served, but I believe it will be better, particularly for Lydia, if she is away from Longbourn for a time. She is a flirt, and I think she needs to be away from the influences here.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed, her usual bustling energy giving way to an uncharacteristic stillness as a flicker of introspection softened her features. For a moment, she seemed to grapple with the weight of her thoughts, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter and tinged with regret. “Clearly, I will need to make some changes as well, though I am less confident in my ability to do so.” It was obvious to those present that she was reflecting on her own role in shaping Lydia’s wild behaviour.
The sight startled Mr. Bennet, who was unaccustomed to such moments of self-awareness from his wife. Elizabeth, however, recognised the vulnerability in her mother’s demeanour. Without a word, she reached across the table and gently squeezed her mother’s hand, offering silent reassurance. The gesture seemed to steady Mrs. Bennet, silently urging her to continue down this unfamiliar path of reflection.
The two women had spoken privately the day before at Netherfield, where Mrs. Bennet had shared her regrets and concerns with her daughter. Gathering herself, Mrs. Bennet went on, “When I spoke with Kitty yesterday, she expressed an interest in the arts, so I am hopeful that my sister Gardiner will be able to recommend a good school in London.”
“So everything has been arranged without my input,” Mr. Bennet said, leaning back in his chair, giving the appearance of indifference. “Then I suppose my funds will not be required either.”
“Do not think you are escaping your duty so easily, sir,” Mrs. Bennet cried more in her usual manner, earning a smirk from her husband. “Lizzy has offered to contribute a portion of what is required for the girls to attend school—particularly in purchasing the clothing required for them to attend. However, you will be paying the school fees. You have neglected your daughters long enough, and it is high time you took responsibility for their futures.”
For several minutes, Mr. Bennet looked at his wife in surprise, having rarely heard her speak in such a forceful manner. “Doing so will require you to spend less on other things, such as dresses and other fripperies,” he retorted after a moment.
“Yes, but I will not be the only one who will be forced to give up some of my luxuries. You will begin saving for your daughters’ futures. With Lizzy married, and Jane going to stay with her, we will require less at the table and will be more restrained when we do entertain. When our guests depart, we will speak of ways we can reduce our overall expenses,” Mrs. Bennet said forcefully, causing her husband to look at her in surprise yet again.
Instead of watching Mr. Bennet open and close his mouth like a fish several times, Mrs. Bennet stood. “Come, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy. The girls are waiting in the drawing room to farewell you. I do wish you could remain in the area longer, but I do understand your desire to return to your home.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Bennet,” Elizabeth said coolly, her tone final. “If you ever choose to do more than offer excuses, I shall read your apologies with interest. Until that time, spare both myself and my husband the trouble of your letters. While I will not deprive my mother and sisters of my company, rest assured that on my next visit, I have no intention of disturbing you in your bookroom. As you have made clear, your solitude matters more than your family. Next time, I will leave you to it, for I am certain I shall be quite content never to exchange words with you again.”