Chapter 43
The Null Assertion
“Lizzy, you seem to have completely upset the natural order of things, based on the well-known Natural Equations of Family Dynamics,” Bennet said when Elizabeth visited him in his cave.
She had given much thought to how she would deal with her father after the debacle of the previous few months.
On the one hand, it was obvious her parents had done their duty very poorly.
On the other hand, matters seemed to be working out as they should either because of or in spite of their upbringing.
The first breeze before a thought storm stirred, so she would think about it later.
For the moment, it was time to trim her sails, talk to the man, and see what happened.
“Which rule?”
“The generally accepted rule stipulates that as daughters are married, the number of females in the household decreases, thus skewing the male-to-female ratio gradually towards unity. I have one daughter married, yet 7 women under my roof, an increase of 16%. I suppose I will find out if it is linear, additive, or conditional when Jane’s gentleman finally works up his nerve—if it happens at all, that is. ”
“The other well-known rule is that the total level of whingeing in a household should decrease as daughters wed, and yet I see a dramatic increase here in my first foray back into family discourse.”
“Touché, my dear. It would seem there is little point in battles of wits with you.”
“Indeed!”
Elizabeth was modestly satisfied with the exchange. She had been so on edge with her father before her visit to Mary that she feared it would be a permanent condition. She was still not precisely happy with the man, but she was less unhappy, which was sufficient for the moment.
“One thing interests me. Is Mrs Jenkinson Miss de Bourgh’s companion or an unexpected governess for my two youngest?”
“Yes.”
“You realise that was an either-or question.”
“You assume the choices are mutually exclusive. I did not take Mrs Jenkinson’s measure at Rosings, mostly due to pride and misplaced faith in first impressions. I now believe she could fulfil both roles and even bring Mama into line if she should so choose.”
Bennet chuckled. “I would pay good money to see that.”
If he would spend money to see her mother improved, why would he not spend time and effort in the same pursuit?
There was little profit in that line of discourse, so she abandoned it.
“Mama has her own new nemesis, so Mrs Jenkinson will be spared that duty, but that brings up a question. I confess, when I absconded with Anne, I did not give a single thought to her companion, much to my discredit. I have apologised to her, but she is not receptive, asserting no wrong was committed. I wonder, though. I assume Lady Catherine is paying her wages and perhaps sending you a stipend for her upkeep. Is that true, or will I need to write to her to straighten it out?”
“So, you are in charge of Lady Catherine’s financial affairs, are you?”
“Much has happened that you are unaware of, but, no, I am in no way in charge of Lady Catherine.”
“So, she just decided, arbitrarily, unilaterally, and abruptly, to send her daughter here in exchange for Charlotte Lucas, eh? Her knowledge of Hertfordshire society must be lacking, since she could not even work out that Miss Lucas does not live at Longbourn.”
Whether she liked the teasing or hated it, she could not tell, but she would say as much as she could anyway. “That was my idea, so you may blame me if you like. The story is long, complicated, and private.”
Bennet leaned back and eyed his most unusual child speculatively.
“Do not concern yourself. I have no need to delve into your private affairs, let alone those of two ladies so wholly unconnected. I imagine I should set your mind at rest vis-à-vis Mrs Jenkinson’s expense.
Lady Catherine may well have taken care of the matter, but even if she had not, your Mr Darcy spoke with Mrs Jenkinson to ensure she was satisfied.
He offered her a pension and a cottage at Pemberley if she liked, and she apparently told him she would be willing to start practising for death when she got closer to the actual event. He seemed satisfied with her answer.”
She did not gasp, since the smirk on her father’s face revealed his aim.
Still, her answer came sharp as she fought for composure. “He is not my Mr Darcy—and what was he even doing here?”
Her father leaned back, searching for the right words. “You have only given half of the traditional answer. I will trouble you for the missing assertion.”
“Missing assertion? Perhaps we should switch to English, as that sentence is too convoluted for even me to follow.”
“You know full well what I mean. For months, everyone felt the need to tease you about him, from that first not handsome enough comment at that blasted assembly. Your response was invariably, ‘He is not my Mr Darcy, and never will be.’ You might have varied it by adding most assuredly or certainly, or occasionally by imitating his low voice and haughty manner; but the basic syntax was unvarying, aside from the extra adverbs. You have curiously cut the reply in half.”
“Perhaps I grow tired of the repetition, since it has all been said so many times before, with no measurable effect.”
“Or perhaps you are not so confident in the second assertion? I know you, my girl. You are a terrible liar, but an excellent prevaricator. Let us save ourselves some tedious attempts to pry it out of you. Simply tell me that ‘he never will be’, and I will accept your word at face value.”
Elizabeth stared at him, anger and frustration knotting together for reasons she could not name, while her father cleaned the ash from his pipe.
Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot.”
Her father paused his cleaning and nodded.
“Well, that is good. The man improves on acquaintance, and I would hate to see your general mulishness extend to condemning him forever over a month’s worth of manners no worse than mine.
He may not be yours now, but it is not beyond the realm of possibility. ”
Elizabeth nodded, but her father continued. “Tell me, Elizabeth. Do you and Mr Darcy have an understanding of any kind?”
Elizabeth blushed slightly, but answered tolerably well. “We most emphatically do not. Does that satisfy your thirst for adverbs?”
“Quite!”
“We have a mutually understood future confluence of schedules, but that is all.”
“English, if you please.”
“We mutually understand we will both be present at the monthly assembly in October. I do not expect to see him before.”
Her father chuckled. “So, you are handsome enough to tempt him?”
“Apparently! Now, if you please, might you answer my second question, or did you think I would forget?”
Bennet chuckled and continued cleaning his pipe.
“He was in Hertfordshire ostensibly on business, though whether it was urgent is a matter of conjecture. He was supposedly here to look after Netherfield as a favour to that young pup whose name is no longer spoken. He looked in on the tenants, ordered repairs, and oversaw the replacement of some of the servants.”
Despite her general annoyance with her father—and to be honest, Mr Darcy—she asked, “You used both ostensibly and supposedly in one breath. Are you implying that Mr Darcy came for some other purpose?”
Having finally cleaned his pipe to his satisfaction, her father reached for a pouch of tobacco and replied tangentially.
“Did I ever tell you about my boyhood friends, Evan and Cecil?”
“Is this a distraction, or a way to answer the question?”
“While I may not be the best parent, would you at least credit me with enough understanding of my daughter to see the folly of distraction? You are like a dog with a bone. No amount of distraction has worked in the past, so you may assume I know the futility of such an endeavour. Furthermore, since we both know it will not work, there is little amusement in the attempt.”
“Very well, Father. Tell me about the notable Evan and Cecil.”
He noticed that Papa had become Father over the previous months, but there seemed little profit in comment. She was a grown woman and would address him as she chose.
“They were the quintessential wild boys, always daring each other to bigger feats of derring-do. It came to a head one day when Evan threw down the gauntlet about swimming across a particularly nasty stretch of the river. Cecil drew the short straw and tried first.”
“And—”
“He nearly drowned. Some rapids carried him a mile downstream, waterlogged, with a broken arm and scarcely alive. He caught a fever and took to his bed for a fortnight of near-death entertainment. He eventually survived, but it was a very near thing.”
“And this applies to my Mr Darcy how?”
Bennet wondered if ‘my’ was a slip of the tongue or a deliberate provocation but decided to ignore it for the moment. “Cecil eventually recovered, and Evan carried around a look of almost desperate contrition for some time.”
He pressed the tobacco into the bowl. “Your Mr Darcy reminds me vaguely of Evan. I could hardly recognise the man. He was here for just over a week. He was unfailingly polite to everyone. He stayed at Netherfield but dined with one family or another every night. He paid back every debt of civility with compound interest. He was quite the favourite. He was even polite to your mother for an entire evening, deflecting every matrimonial question like a skilled fencer.”
Elizabeth sat back, stunned. She had expected the man to do…
something… though she had no notion what exactly.
Coming to Meryton and repairing his reputation had not been among the possibilities she considered, and she could not decide whether to be impressed by his efforts or annoyed by his presumption.
Shakily, she asked, “Did he offer any explanation for this change?”
Bennet finished filling his pipe, so he delayed an answer by walking to the fire for a brand. He meant to be deliberately provocative; Elizabeth waited patiently.
Bennet returned with the pipe in full bloom. “Several people asked him that exact question, and he simply said he looked in the mirror one day and realised he had not acted as a gentleman should. He returned to make amends.”
Despite herself, Elizabeth flushed and stared at her foot.
“Tell me, daughter. I find the temporal proximity of these events too convenient to be coincidence. He was in your company for some time in Kent, and the next thing I know, he is here being amiable. I suspect the man is preparing the ground for an invasion of some sort.”
Elizabeth chuckled at the crude analogy. “Well—”
Bennet waited. “Let us say that Mr Darcy and I understand each other better than we did, and leave it at that.”
Bennet drew a few puffs from the pipe. “He called on me for a few games of chess. I must say he thrashed me within an inch of my life. He is almost as good as you.”
“I am only so good because the precision and ceremony of the game calm me. My skill is more a testament to my defects than an accomplishment.”
“Be that as it may, he will be a formidable opponent next time you engage him.”
“What makes you so sure there will be a next time?”
Bennet drew a few more puffs. “As I said, daughter, you have leave to chastise me for my actions all your life, but I should at least like to be acknowledged as not entirely bereft of understanding. I can tell something occurred between the two of you. Now, you are a woman grown, so I will not pry or demand an explanation, but pray, do not pretend I am stupid.”
“So, what did the man say that has you so convinced of your belief?”
Bennet puffed again. “Have no fear that he said anything to sully your reputation, raise gossip, or create expectations. He was very careful about what he said in company. He was even more careful to apportion his time evenly between all the families, showing neither preference nor avoidance. By the time he left, he had convinced everyone to accept whatever explanations they deigned to dream up. Most assumed a relative took him to task, and he allowed that thought to flower unopposed.”
“I see.”
“I asked him about that one day, hoping to distract him during a game. I asked why he had missed whatever it was he saw in the mirror before. Have you any idea what he said?”
“I assume you will tell me… eventually.”
“He said some mirrors are better than others,” he replied with a chuckle.
“I see.”
“I asked him to elaborate, and he said he had recently discovered a much more effective mirror.”
“Did he mention anything else about this mirror?” She frowned.
“Not a thing… except—”
“Except what?”
“All he would suggest was that a proper mirror should be about 5⒈／⒉ feet high.”
Elizabeth coughed a few times, but could not help joining her father in laughter. Exasperation now joined the list of emotions the Derbyshire gentleman inspired.
Bennet’s mirth slowly faded. “Is there anything I should know about your gentleman, aside from the likelihood of being dragged to an assembly in October?”
“No, Papa… there is nothing more at present.”
Bennet noticed the softening of her language and the hedge of at present; more than either, his daughter’s face had turned thoughtful and wistful.
There was unlikely to be any profit in more discussion of Mr Darcy, but perhaps other topics might suffice.