Chapter XII #2
Fortunately, Darcy did not suffer from the same defects as Mr. Collins.
Darcy’s defects, though they had harmed him in her estimation, were not those that would expose one to ridicule.
And with Miss Elizabeth’s assistance, Darcy thought he could overcome—or at least mitigate—the reticence that had plagued him for much of his life.
First, he would need to convince her that he could be the man she needed.
The way to do that was not to try to present himself as something he was not, but to display his good qualities and his willingness to attend to his faults.
“If you are not of a mind to accept me,” said Darcy, feigning unconcern, “perhaps I shall simply allow the knowledge of my interest to slip to your mother.”
Miss Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but he caught the tiniest hint of a smile. “Oh, yes, of course,” said she, her tone desert dry. “That worked so well with the last suitor who had my mother’s support.”
“Ah, but I am a much greater prize than your cousin, am I not?”
“Greater, perhaps, but not more important in my mother’s eyes,” said Miss Elizabeth, throwing him a knowing smile. “Mr. Collins will inherit Longbourn, after all. Mama was most interested in a arrangement that would allow her to remain here for the rest of her life.”
“And yet, she can live at Pemberley if Mr. Bennet precedes her in death,” replied Darcy, considering himself reasonable. “Or better yet, the dower house is unoccupied—Mrs. Bennet would have the house to herself and have access to you and our children at any time of her choosing.”
Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “That does not change the fact that my father is the one who must approve a proposal and force me into compliance. As he has declined to do so once, you cannot suppose he would do anything other than support me, even if I refused one hundred suitors.”
“As for one hundred suitors, I know nothing of them, but I am inclined to induce you to accept one.”
Though she stared at him with wonder, Miss Elizabeth looked away, a hint of embarrassment staining her cheeks. She then looked about and seemed to remember where they were—if anything, her blush grew more pronounced.
“We must have created a spectacle, Mr. Darcy,” said she, gesturing around them. “All my sisters, your sister, and Mr. Bingley have retreated to Longbourn while we were speaking.”
“Would a spectacle improve my chances of persuading you?”
Darcy stifled a chuckle at her sudden, sharp glance. “Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I can cheerfully endure the ridicule of my family if it means I do not marry a man I do not wish.”
“Then it appears that I must redouble my efforts.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“In the usual way—by attention and constancy.”
Darcy extended his arm to her. “Shall we proceed to the house? You can tell your family that you stopped to show me something of interest.”
“I doubt they will believe me.”
“Then let them think what they will,” replied Darcy. “There is no need to speak or make any announcement. If you are of a mind to give me a chance to persuade you, let this be a matter between us.”
Though Darcy could see how Miss Elizabeth studied him, he knew at once that he had convinced her.
Not to accept his overtures—that would not come for some time yet, and not until after he had made complete amends and shown her what sort of man he truly was.
The truth was more subtle and grounded: an openness and willingness to withhold judgment.
It was perhaps the best he could reasonably hope for.
UPON ENTERING THE HOUSE, they found the housekeeper and a maid waiting to take their winter garments; then Miss Elizabeth led Darcy into the sitting-room where the others were all waiting for them.
Though Darcy had not thought anyone had noticed their absence until they entered the house, the look Bingley directed at him was curious, mixed with knowing.
Miss Bennet’s expression, approaching satisfaction, also did not escape his attention.
Darcy wondered if he should revise his opinion of Miss Bennet—she appeared much more observant than he had supposed.
“Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet, peering at her daughter. “I suppose there is no reason to question why you came back late. Given your penchant for the outdoors, I cannot but suppose you were traipsing about the grounds.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room and surprising himself, “Miss Elizabeth and I stopped for a little conversation. She was kind enough to answer a few questions.”
Mrs. Bennet regarded him, open skepticism clear, but she did not make an issue of it. “Lizzy is the best one to answer questions, of course,” said Mrs. Bennet. “How . . . gratifying it is that you have taken such an interest, Mr. Darcy.”
Then the woman turned back to Georgiana and began speaking animatedly with her, curious since she was in a group containing the youngest Bennets. Miss Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye, as if trying to understand his thoughts, though her glances at her mother said much.
As Miss Elizabeth sat near Georgiana, Darcy turned his scrutiny back to Mrs. Bennet.
The woman had certainly never hidden her disapproval of Darcy, but now that he knew about Miss Elizabeth overhearing him at the assembly, Darcy thought he could draw some conclusions about why that was.
For a woman who put all her hopes in her daughters’ ability to find and marry men who could support them, any slight against them must be anathema.
For some moments, he watched Mrs. Bennet, his conclusions a little startling.
Mrs. Bennet was loud, uncouth, and seemed to know nothing about the social graces, including little of how to comport herself.
She was also a mercenary mother, that most detestable of creatures, whom Darcy had learned to avoid within moments of his debut in London.
However, at the same time, she was also a good-hearted sort of woman, one who gave freely of herself, had acted to make a young girl who had never experienced the love of a mother welcome in her home.
Underneath her desperation, he also sensed she was a woman who loved her daughters and wished the best for them, even if her actions were not always wise.
Darcy could not approve of her in a general sense, nor could he ignore her behavior, which was, at times, less than proper.
But he could credit her for giving birth to two worthy daughters in Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, and for caring for his sister.
While many other women toadied to Georgiana, hoping to get close to Darcy himself—Caroline Bingley being the most blatant of those—Mrs. Bennet did not do so, hoping to capture Darcy for her daughters.
Mrs. Bennet’s clear disapproval of him told that story without any ability to dispute it.
Yet, Darcy knew that the moment Mrs. Bennet became aware of his interest in her second daughter, she would become his firmest supporter, nearly as high as Bingley stood in her esteem.
Though he was not certain if he could endure all her flattering attentions, he thought he was capable of enduring it.
The question was, did he wish to improve her opinion now or enjoy a few days with Miss Elizabeth free of her mother’s effusions?
It was a simple decision in the end, for Darcy decided that it was best for Mrs. Bennet to become accustomed to the notion of his interest.
“IT WAS SUCH A SPECTACLE, Mama,” said Lydia, relating the events of the day to a clearly curious Mrs. Bennet.
“The officers did not have much to say, which vexed me greatly, but our friends were not so judicious. It seems Mr. Wickham had debts with most of the merchants and was found to be dallying with some of the ladies in town.”
“I heard it was Sally Hobbes, the haberdasher’s daughter,” said Kitty.
“Or Tilly Davies,” said Lydia.
“If it were Tilly, Mr. Wickham had best take great care,” said Mr. Bennet. “Davies is as broad as an ox and twice as strong and has a temper as hot as his forge. If he lays hands on Mr. Wickham, there may not be much left of him after.”
Mrs. Bennet watched this all with disbelief. “Mr. Wickham? But he is so charming and kind. How can he be a wastrel?”
“The same as any other man,” replied Mr. Bennet. “And Mr. Wickham is more dangerous, for he is adept at making people believe him.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes found Mr. Darcy and became cold. “What have you to say of this business, Mr. Darcy? As I recall, you have a history with the officer.”
For a moment, Elizabeth thought Mr. Darcy might deflect or choose not to answer. Instead, he surprised her by offering her mother a smile.
“Indeed, I have some knowledge of Wickham, Mrs. Bennet. Though I shall not speak in depth of his depravities, I would caution against believing anything he says. Wickham has several unsavory habits which eventually drive him from any community, though his manners are sufficient to buy him welcome until he is discovered.”
“Then it is well that his habits have caught up with him,” said Mr. Bennet. “It seems we have you to thank, Mr. Darcy, for your intervention in this matter.”
“Not at all, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “In this instance, your thanks should go to your second eldest daughter, for she was the one who set today’s events in motion.”
“Lizzy?” demanded Mrs. Bennet. “What has she to do with it?”
Mr. Darcy turned to direct a deliberate look at Elizabeth, an eyebrow raised in question. Elizabeth, seeing no reason to hesitate, spoke up at once.
“I learned about Mr. Wickham’s character from Mr. Darcy and Georgiana when Jane and I visited Netherfield.” Elizabeth shrugged as if it did not signify. “With that knowledge in hand, I could not simply allow Mr. Wickham to do as he would without consequences.”
“That is my Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, appearing both amused and proud. “The question is, what did you do?”
“What do you suppose I did when it pertained to the merchants?” asked Elizabeth rhetorically. “I spoke to Sir William.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes lit up with comprehension. “Of course. Then Sir William, sensing danger to his former fellows, acted at once, involving the colonel.”
Mrs. Bennet appeared to absorb this, then she looked at Mr. Darcy, her expression bordering on unfriendly. “Then why did you not do anything about Mr. Wickham if he is so very bad?”
“It was my intention to act against him,” replied Mr. Darcy, ignoring his previous inaction. “As Wickham possesses certain information that may cause harm if it were released, I needed to act with prudence.”
“Then Lizzy took matters into her own hands,” said Mr. Bennet, his laughter unreserved. “Unless I am mistaken, it is much better this way.”
“It is,” agreed Darcy. “Sir William approaching the colonel with suspicions about Mr. Wickham’s activities cannot be traced back to me; if Sir William is not explicit about his source, Wickham has no reason to speak about what he knows.”
“A man like that might do so anyway,” replied Mr. Bennet, sobering at once.
“He might,” said Mr. Darcy. “If he does, his tales are likely to be taken as the vengeance of a bitter man, at best fabricated or exaggerated.”
“Yes, I can see what you mean. Then it has all turned out for the best, I dare say.”
“Indeed, it has,” said Mr. Darcy. Then he turned again to Mrs. Bennet. “Miss Elizabeth has shown uncommon judgment and spirit today—qualities that honor your family, Mrs. Bennet.”
Mrs. Bennet blinked, as if she had not expected to be addressed with such civility.
“Indeed! Well—yes. Lizzy has always had a great deal of spirit. Though I am sure Jane has more gentleness . . . and Kitty is very good-natured . . . and Lydia—Lydia is the life of us all!”
“You have much to be proud of in all your daughters.”
“You see, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, “it is fortunate we have at least one daughter capable of frightening villains into prison.”
“Mr. Bennet! Pray do not speak so—gentlemen do not like girls who meddle in men’s affairs!”
“On the contrary, madam,” said Mr. Darcy. “I should think any gentleman of sense would value it.”
Elizabeth could not help but glare at Mr. Darcy, though the gentleman did not appear at all repentant. It was, she supposed, the best he could have done without stating his interest in her openly, and Elizabeth had a notion of just how much Mr. Darcy might come to regret his actions.
Thus, she smiled sweetly at him; Mr. Darcy returned a wide grin.
That only threw further fuel on the flames, for Mrs. Bennet, watching Mr. Darcy as she had been, noted it.
At that very moment, Mr. Darcy became more than just a man who had slighted one of her daughters—in Mrs. Bennet’s mind, he became a suitor.
And Mrs. Bennet was not one to allow matters to proceed without interference, especially not when she thought she could provide a nudge in the right direction.
That her mother did not provide that nudge at once was a matter of some interest to Elizabeth.
Were she to guess, she might suppose that her mother, sensing that Mr. Darcy was not a normal gentleman and, more importantly, that he was wealthier than any other man they knew, was now taking the time to consider how best to proceed.
Elizabeth knew, if Mr. Darcy did not, that an unfettered Mrs. Bennet would do no credit to them all.