Chapter 22
It was still dark when Elizabeth rose. She had slept little and poorly, but she felt both rested and too restless to lie down any longer. She rang for Janey and began to prepare for the day, one she awaited with anticipation and nervousness.
She had always enjoyed attending the theatre and the opera, but this time she would be under the sharp scrutiny of all her husband’s acquaintances and surrounded by his family.
Recollecting the gossip between the three ladies outside the dressmakers’ that she had overheard, she could easily imagine the kind of reports spread about her and their sudden marriage.
Not that she should care; no reports could harm their sort of marriage, based on mutual agreement and a detailed contract.
For better or for worse, they were bound together despite any rumours or opposition.
Still, she found herself often wondering about her husband’s feelings, his actions, his distress that he kept concealed but that often shadowed his countenance.
He was not an easy man to read or to live with, but she did not regret marrying him.
He had fulfilled his promises; his behaviour towards her father and sister was flawless, and he had offered her complete freedom to act as she wanted.
And his company, when bestowed, was pleasant, and his manners were polite and considerate, even friendly, which was more than many married women could boast.
His sister’s marriage, which seemed shrouded in painful secrecy, and the matter of the money, which he hoped would be resolved the following day, were the only shades on his character, ones she wished to overcome, but he would not allow it.
The previous night, he had seemed troubled when he spoke of his business that could prevent his meeting with Mr Crawford; the novelty of his rare openness had thrilled her so much that she had hardly paid attention to his turmoil.
Strangely, she felt no anxiety about the notion that the money — her money — would be given away the next day, though such an amount was more than life-changing for anyone.
She trusted his word, and her uncle’s, and only hoped once he completed that business, things would improve for him — and for them.
Though she was not certain what such improvement would bring.
She was about to leave her room when, on impulse, she knocked on his door, and his invitation to enter came only moments later. She stepped into his chamber. He was dressed in his shirt and waistcoat, freshly shaved, and he looked surprised to see her.
“Elizabeth, is something wrong?”
“No, I just came to talk to you…all is well. Do you have any engagements today?”
“Nothing special. May I help you with something?”
“No, I just came to enquire about you. How is your arm today? Did you manage to sleep well despite it? I have noticed you are constantly distracted and anxious these days and have probably been sleeping ill too. I hope that when you have resolved the matter with the money, you will be more at ease. I wish I could help you somehow.”
“You are very kind and considerate, Elizabeth. I am well enough, and the wound is healing. There is nothing to be concerned about. It looked worse than it was, as I told you. And you have already helped me, not just with the money but also with your patience. I apologise for the distress I have caused you with my own distress,” he said with a little smile.
“It suits you well when you smile, Mr Darcy. Even a little smile will do,” she said.
“I am glad to be able to please you, even if only with my rare smile, Mrs Darcy.”
His hoarse voice, his nearness, and the scent of his eau de Cologne made her increasingly warm inside; her poorly chosen subject of his sleeping made her face hot, and she hesitated over whether she should stay or leave.
A knock on her door pushed her to decide, and she quickly apologised to her husband, returning to her chamber.
She pulled the adjoining door closed after her, but the unexpected presence of her father inside her room startled her, and she stopped short.
“Papa? What a surprise to see you here! And so early! Are you unwell?”
“I am well. I apologise for disturbing you. What a beautiful room you have here, Lizzy. You were truly fortunate to marry Mr Darcy. I could not have asked for a better husband for you.”
“You have already said that, but I thank you. Please, come and sit down. You look a little disconcerted, and dissembling is not like you. What brings you here, Papa?”
“You know me too well, my Lizzy. Thoughts about the past and reflections about the present brought me here. I was thinking about this Thomas Crawford…”
“I confess I have not stopped thinking about him since last evening. What a shock that he appeared out of nowhere! I am all anticipation to meet him!”
“I fear I cannot share your enthusiasm, Lizzy, and I pray you will not be disappointed.”
“What do you mean, Papa?”
“The Crawfords disapproved of your mother marrying me just as much as the rest of her family. They had many objections against me, which turned into resentment, even hate, after your mother tragically died. They blamed me for her death, you see, and never forgave me.”
“I am sorry, Papa, but we both know that blaming you was ridiculous. And I never understood what objections they could have. After all, you were a gentleman!”
“One with little fortune, no consequence in the world, or connections, and not much to recommend me except my genuine love for your mother…and for you, Lizzy. I want nothing but to know you are safe and protected from harm and suffering. The young Thomas Crawford — if he is who he proclaims himself to be — might carry the same grudge and spite.”
“If he does, I shall easily dismiss him. We have comfortably lived without him for the last twenty years, and we surely do not need him now. But I hope that will not be the case. Why would he go to so much trouble to find us if he only intends to show the same resentment? I pray he is an amiable, educated, and reasonable man.”
“He certainly acts impulsively, or he would not have gone to Longbourn directly. Make of that what you will.”
“I see no fault in his actions, Papa. He could not have known that you and I were not there, and he certainly could not have guessed that you wished to keep anything connected to my mother’s family from your present wife.” Elizabeth could not hide the reproach in her voice.
“I admit my weakness, Lizzy, and I am not ignorant of Fanny’s flaws, but she helped me when you were just an infant and—”
“And you married her and allowed her and her child to have a much better life and take control of ours. I can understand why you did it, Papa, but I cannot approve of it. She is not a good influence, even on Lydia and Kitty. Thank God dear Jane does not resemble her at all.”
“Fanny helped me raise you, Lizzy.”
“And you helped her raise Jane. She should be at least as grateful to you as you are to her. But she is accustomed to pretending, demanding, imposing her will, and it is too late for you to keep her under good regulation. But all this you know already, Papa.”
“I know. That is why I thank the Lord that you married a good man, who is responsible for you and your fortune. He will protect you better than I was ever capable of doing. I shall not deny that I am flattered by the consideration he shows me — something that your mother’s family never granted me.”
“Mr Darcy is a good man. I am glad you two seem to find each other’s company agreeable.”
“I certainly do, and I pray not to lose his good opinion.”
“Why would you? You are a good man, too, Papa, and neither of you is without fault.”
“Mr Darcy will give you the place in society you deserve. I had always feared that you might not find your way into the higher circles, despite your fortune. As Mrs Darcy, you are where you belong.”
“I could not care less about the higher circles of society. In truth, if Mama was not as she is, if she had treated me differently, I would have been perfectly happy to remain at Longbourn for the rest of my life and spend my money bringing joy to all of you, Papa.”
“Still, you are much better as Mrs Darcy than as Miss Bennet, Lizzy. And perhaps you may still bring joy to your sisters by helping them further.”
“That sounds very much like Mama,” Elizabeth replied. “I shall take care of all three of them, but only on my terms. Lydia and Kitty will have to improve their minds and their manners before asking for any other sort of help. As for Jane…perhaps she will find her happiness sooner than we imagined.”
“What do you mean, Lizzy?”
“Nothing particular, Papa. Now let us go to breakfast. Jane must be there already.”
She took her father’s arm, and they walked out of the room together. Not for a moment did she notice that the adjoining door to her husband’s chamber remained open a crack, nor that he was listening with curiosity and embarrassment from behind it.
***
When he heard his wife leaving her room, Darcy blew out a breath and pushed the door closed.
Ashamed and angry with himself for listening to what he was not meant to hear, he put on his coat and went downstairs for breakfast. Nothing that he had heard was new or surprising to him, but it was an intimate and none-too-happy conversation between father and daughter, sharing lived distress and sorrow.
Mr Bennet proved to be a complex mix of education, wit, and honour, with weakness and carelessness, which reminded him of his own father.
Two fathers, different in character, fortune, connections, and situation in life, but so similar in allowing themselves to drown in the sorrow of the painful loss of their wives and allowing the same kind of malicious influence to ruin their lives.