Chapter Sixteen #4
“George wants me to marry Mr. Darcy, and I do not think I have ever met a man who would make a better father than Mr. Darcy. He is a man of upright character, he has been patient and kind, he lets George pester him, he reads to him, and he talks to George in such a happy manner. Emily also loves to sit next to him and show him all her little drawings and toys. Though she is, I must confess, rather more enamored of Georgiana and her piano. I love to watch it—even when his fever was at its worst, and the pain from his wound was great he never snapped at the children or showed any impatience with them. He refused much of the laudanum I tried to make him take, and his pain was without doubt severe. He is a man who is the opposite of Wickham. When he makes a promise, he solemnly does all that he can to achieve it. He cares about his duty, about his honor, and he seeks to avoid harming or imposing upon others. He is fundamentally kind and caring. Besides, I like to talk with him.”
“And he is handsome,” Papa added, “which a gentleman ought to be, if he can possibly manage it.”
Elizabeth flushed. “I assure you, that I have put any such thoughts to the side, and it is my sober belief that I did not let my attraction to his person affect my decision in any undue amount. But it cannot be a disadvantage in a marriage that I like the look of my partner. And I have reason to be confident that he likes my looks.”
“Do you?” Papa asked with raised eyebrows.
Elizabeth flushed and stared down at her hands. She absolutely could not look at her father.
Especially after they had agreed to marry, she had seen how Darcy’s eyes lingered on her. If he was not thinking about anything in particular, his eyes usually drifted towards her, in an almost shy way.
It certainly was not why she had accepted him. But this knowledge filled her with an extra eagerness for the marriage to in fact happen. That thought made her face grow even redder.
And she had noticed how he reacted when her fingers brushed against his chest as she changed his bandage.
“Ahem.” Papa interrupted her reverie. “You two like the look of each other. Though of course neither of you are the sort of ordinary person who would marry for such a ridiculous reason. I see.”
“Papa…”
“It is rather easy,” Papa said, “to forget that you are very much not a maiden, but rather one of those young widows full of life, desire, and of a clear knowledge of what precisely both involve—do not blush Lizzy. I have always liked to say shocking things.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I insist that is not why I agreed to a marriage.”
“I believe you.” Papa sighed. “Well, well, well.”
“Well, what?—and tell me about all of this money you have set aside with retrenchment and economy.”
“What? Oh yes, the better part of three thousand in consols. Not so much with five daughters, one of whom has two children of her own. But matters would be less tight than before. And I do not feel any likelihood of dying soon. We have gotten into the habit of a more restrained pattern of living, and we can maintain it. In fact, handing journals and books around with a few other gentlemen, instead of purchasing them all myself, has led to pleasant enough conversations.”
“Oh, Papa. And you did this for me?—But you said nothing about it. Perhaps, you have a bit of pride as well.”
Papa laughed. “I dare say I do. But I acted for all of you. The shock of your elopement was enough, I think, for your mother to be easier about spending less. And the same for me as well. So, if you will marry this Mr. Darcy, do not use the need for money as your explanation to yourself of your behavior. Though I suppose Mr. Darcy has far more than I could ever save.”
The waves slapped on the beach.
A seagull swept near them, gave them a look with its eye, and then settled on the ground five feet away.
“Would you like to sign the settlement documents,” Elizabeth asked. “They are only completely legally binding on Mr. Darcy, but not on me, as I am not yet one-and-twenty.”
Papa studied her. She again had that sense that he was hiding a smile. “And you are determined to marry him.”
“I am.”
Papa tapped his fingers on the ground next to him. “Well. Well. Well.”
“Just say what you are thinking.”
“I suppose I ought. No, I certainly ought. Have you considered the possibility that the Lady doth protest too much?”
“What do you mean?”
“You speak in a highly appreciative way of Mr. Darcy. It certainly was not his wealth that you dwelt on in describing him, but rather his good character, his ability to endure under pain, his kindness to your child, and the pleasure you find in his conversation.”
“Is that not all to the good? Are those not features that a person hopes to see in someone they mean to marry?”
“Yes, I might even go so far as to say that a lover could hardly be more delighted in describing the virtues of her partner.”
Elizabeth blinked at Papa.
He raised his eyebrows in that annoying satirical way.
She had missed Papa. And her pride had made a fool of her by keeping her from seeking his help, and his counsel for these past years.
“I am certainly not in love with him,” Elizabeth replied. “You recall, I have been in love before. I do not have those flutters of delight every time he says something inane in my praise.”
“From what I saw of his manner, I suspect that when Mr. Darcy praises you, it is not inane.”
Elizabeth flushed. He did praise her frequently, and she did like that.
“I am wholly capable of sitting with him for an hour,” Elizabeth said, “while talking about practical subjects, or books. And we have not once engaged in a fierce disagreement about which one of us loves the other the most.”
“Is that what your home life with Mr. Wickham was like?”
“At times,” Elizabeth sighed. “But Papa, I assure you, I am not in love with him.”
“As proven by your willingness to marry him,” Papa agreed cheerfully. “You would never marry anyone who you actually admired.”
“No, no, no.” Elizabeth replied. “Admiration is a word that is composed of multiple meanings. I admire Darcy a great deal. But I do not have that feeling towards him which convinced me to elope with Wickham.”
“Though you would have happily enough eloped with Mr. Darcy.”
“Papa, what do you hope to do? Are you seeking to convince me that I shall make a mistake due to my passions? I have considered that possibility. But when I examine my soul, I find a great deal of belief in Mr. Darcy, a great deal to admire in him—I think I know him well, and he me. My admiration is based on facts that I have seen and heard of his behavior.”
“Ah, yes,” Papa replied. “No one could ever love a person based on what they have done, only what they imagine that they shall do.”
“And yes,” Elizabeth continued, half ignoring what Papa had said, “a man may change. Though not always for the worse—I never imagined that you would tell me that you had saved money at the rate of five or six hundred a year—Mr. Darcy’s virtues are not so fragile that I ought to expect them to disappear tomorrow.
That I like him so much terrifies me, but ultimately, this world is filled with doubt, confusion, and uncertainty.
One must choose. I have given this serious thought, and I shall marry Mr. Darcy, even though it is possible that I am making a mistake.
You shall not convince me to be changeable by trying to convince me that I am once more a stupid girl in love. ”
“Well,” Papa said after pausing for some time. “Well. At least you do not love him. There is that.”
Elizabeth rather thought there was something wholly ironical in Papa’s tone. “Exactly. If I did, then I would not trust myself.”
Papa sighed, he laughed a little, and then he shrugged and pushed himself to stand.
As Papa brushed the sand off his pants, he said, “If you would be happy to have me sign your documents, I will happily do so—after reading them carefully, of course. As a responsible father must. I suppose that if he marries you out of duty, and because he shot your husband, which I am sure is his sole motivation—”
“He also likes George,” Elizabeth reminded him.
Papa looked at her in that ironical way.
“Yes, his sole motivation, besides affection for your son. In any case, he can hardly expect me to provide a dowry under such circumstances. I shall place what money I have collected into the dowries of your sisters. And I shall need to continue the habits of economy, for their sake. Oh, well. But before I decide whether to give Mr. Darcy that blessing he asked for, I must speak with him in private myself.”