Chapter 13
No sooner had Mr Clinton departed than her uncle burst into the room and cried, “Well? Have you accepted?”
Elizabeth broke into laughter, as if a weight had been lifted after so much agitation.
Nor was it merely the day’s events or Mr Clinton’s proposal that occasioned such relief, but all that had lately occurred; for Mr Darcy’s declaration had never left her mind, continuing to disturb her whenever she thought upon it.
“I have accepted,” she replied. But her uncle, who knew her exceedingly well, perceived the playful sparkle in her eyes and dropped into an armchair. “You have refused him as well! A record indeed in our family—three proposals, three refusals.”
“No!” cried Elizabeth, laughing again as she awaited the arrival of her sister and aunt, who were, at that very moment, upon tenterhooks.
“My dear ones,” she began, when all were seated, “it was indeed a proposal, yet not of marriage. And I entreat you to be very open to what Mr Clinton has offered me, for it is at once precious and unexpected.”
“You are still underage; any proposition must be amended by Mr Bennet,” exclaimed her uncle, alarmed by the notion of an offer from a stranger.
“For only a few months more, Uncle. And in any case, I hope you have some confidence in me by now. Mr Clinton is the proprietor of one of the most distinguished young ladies’ academies in London—”
“Heavens!” cried her aunt. “The Margaret Clinton Academy?”
“Precisely. How do you know of it?”
“It is truly one of the most reputed establishments, though admittance is exceedingly difficult. I made enquiries once, for the girls.”
“Well then, they shall be admitted when their time comes, for Mr Clinton has offered that I become the Principal of the Margaret Clinton Academy.”
A general oh rose through the room, each listener betraying a different sentiment—astonishment, admiration, and, in Mr Gardiner’s case, a measure of apprehension, for he discerned obstacles sooner than the ladies did.
“My resolution is made,” continued Elizabeth, not wishing to allow time for any protest. “I shall begin as soon as may be.”
“As I just said, you cannot, however, take such a decision entirely upon yourself,” replied Mr Gardiner in the same slightly anxious tone. “Mr Bennet will wish to speak with Mr Clinton.”
“I shall write to him at once. Indeed, Mr Clinton himself desires to confer with Papa.”
“And should our father not approve?” asked Jane, already troubled by the thought of life without Elizabeth.
“Four hundred pounds per annum, besides several other advantages which he has listed for me—do you think it an offer to refuse?”
Elizabeth drew forth the paper she had barely had leisure to peruse before their arrival.
It contained not trifles, but privileges of the highest order—one hundred pounds yearly for apparel, an apartment at the principal house on Devonshire Place in Marylebone, and another at the estate near London, in Hampstead, both belonging to the Academy; a personal maid; and, above all, the liberty to direct the institution according to her own judgement—to reform, or to continue, as she thought proper.
Every idea, he had said, would be welcomed.
She read the list aloud and smiled at their countenances. It was a life few women might command alone; only unmarried heiresses and widows enjoyed such freedom to govern both life and fortune as they pleased.
“I shall now go and write to my father,” she concluded.
Jane followed her at once, eager to understand what their lives might become should Elizabeth indeed remove from Longbourn.
“Do not be sad, my angel. You shall marry,” said Elizabeth, as soon as the letter was sent.
“Perhaps,” replied Jane, thoughtful yet calm.
Elizabeth cast her a searching glance. Indeed, Jane was at last recovering; for even a month earlier, such an alternative would have brought her to tears, persuaded that her affection for Mr Bingley would never fade, and that she could never accept another man in marriage.
Closely embraced, they seated themselves upon the small bench at the head of the bed. They both felt the need to talk—to chatter easily as they had been used to do at Longbourn—for each, in her own way, required that a sense of normality should be restored.
Jane murmured that her heart was mending and that she hoped, in time, to be her former self again. She lamented Elizabeth’s departure, yet rejoiced for her, knowing that her sister desired to make a life of her own far more than to seek a husband.
Elizabeth then spoke of Charlotte and her new life, recalling in the end every particular that came to mind of that day at the Parsonage.
“Do you think you would have accepted, had it been a gentle offer of marriage?” asked Jane.
“No, I do not think so,” answered Elizabeth. “Indeed, I believe I should have declined his proposal—though in a civilised manner.”
“Do not imagine that I feel no remorse,” she added after a pause.
“Never ought I to have spoken to him in such a tone, whatever his offence. If I begin work at the Academy, that shall be the first matter to amend—this failing of mine to think before I speak, and to lower my voice by two degrees in every answer. My father would scold us when we made mistakes, but never when he was teaching us. Education, I now perceive, must be firm yet kind. I have learnt so much from him—not only knowledge, but conduct.”
“I hope that, once I am engaged in the affairs of the Academy, my life shall gain a sense entirely different from what it has been, and from what I ever dreamt of—but infinitely satisfying and full of animation.”
Mr Clinton had allowed her until after Easter, when the pupils were to return from their vacation.
That gave her some days to speak with her family, to persuade them that she was acting rightly for herself and, in the end, for them all.
She already imagined how she might assist her father, take Kitty to be educated, and even have Mary join her at the Academy.
“You shall not believe what has happened!” cried Elizabeth in a lively tone at dinner, on the evening when Mr Bennet arrived in London accompanied by Mrs Bennet and the three younger daughters.
At the table were likewise the two daughters of the Gardiners, Hannah and Emma, whom Mrs Gardiner already delighted to imagine among the first pupils of the Academy conducted by her niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
A solemn silence fell upon the party, for all were eager to hear Elizabeth’s story.
“When Mrs Gardiner told me that Mr Clinton desired to see me, I had for a moment the wild notion that he had come to make me an offer of marriage. I was terrified—terrified at the mere situation of being proposed to for the third time, after having already refused two. I could still hear my uncle’s laughter at so strange a record, yet there was more to my alarm than amusement.
Mr Clinton is a gentleman of my father’s generation…
How could I refuse him without committing some dreadful act of impoliteness?
I knew not what words to use. And when he began, ‘I come to ask your—’ the pressure grew so great that, for several seconds, all went dark before my eyes, as if I were fainting, and I did not hear the end of his sentence. ”
“No!” cried Lydia in astonishment, and the whole company burst into laughter, for she had spoken precisely what everyone felt. “You thought he came to offer for you?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, looking affectionately at her sisters.
“And?” continued Lydia, ever the one to ask the most numerous and indiscreet questions—yet upon this occasion all depended upon her to learn more from Elizabeth.
“Fortunately, I said nothing, and Mr Clinton took my hesitation for shock and continued to explain his errand.”
“Only imagine how ridiculous it would have been for Lizzy to exclaim, ‘I shall not marry you!’” cried Lydia, and again laughter rang round the table.
“Exactly! I should have died of shame. But I soon recovered, and guessed rather than understood what he proposed.”
“We have already been to see the house,” confessed Mr Gardiner, betraying the secret he shared with Elizabeth, who had been dying of curiosity to behold it before the visit arranged with Mr Bennet.
“Clinton Academy for Young Ladies, Devonshire Place, Marylebone, London… Grandiose, impressive,” Elizabeth said, with a pride she had already begun to feel.
Mr Bennet looked at her with deep affection.
He had received a long letter from Mr Clinton containing every particular that a father might require.
Yet he knew the decision was already made, for it was all his daughter had ever dreamed of.
The meeting appointed for the morrow was intended chiefly that the two gentlemen might become personally acquainted, each foreseeing in the other a friendship soon to be formed.
“Exactly as Lizzy says,” continued Mr Gardiner. “A house of six levels, with a white-stucco facade, columned doorways, fanlights, and wrought-iron—”
“And so much more,” interrupted Elizabeth, cutting her uncle short in her eagerness. “The Clinton Academy occupies two adjoining houses in Devonshire Place, their facades identical and united by a single flight of stone steps—”
“Grand indeed!” cried Mrs Bennet, probably the only one to give her full approval the instant she heard of the advantages of such a position.
“It was a splendid experience—but we did not get out of the carriage,” acknowledged Mr Gardiner, glancing at Elizabeth; the two smiled at one another with comic guilt.
“I hope I shall see it myself,” declared Mrs Bennet, and it sounded like an order. “I would never allow you to reside anywhere I have not first inspected.”
“It is not as though she were removing to her husband’s house,” observed Mr Bennet, with his customary humour. “I fear that there you shall not be mother-in-law, and so shall enjoy no rights at all.”
“Rights?” exclaimed Jane, in a tone very foreign to her gentle nature, which betrayed that she had not yet forgiven her mother for the interference that had helped to part her from Mr Bingley. “A mother-in-law has no rights in her son-in-law’s house.”
“I am inclined to agree,” said Mr Bennet.
But the attention of all soon returned to Elizabeth, for it was her evening. Questions and laughter flowed until near midnight, and even the youngest remained upon their chairs to the end.
“A new chapter begins in the history of our family,” said Mr Gardiner, visibly moved.
“And who knows,” added Mr Bennet with a knowing smile, “perhaps likewise in the lives of many young ladies who shall pass through the doors of Clinton Academy, whilst Elizabeth presides there, and for many years thereafter.”