Chapter Twenty One #3
“And then to laugh at their inconsistencies,” Darcy said. “But my dear, I only worried because I saw that you did not like how she spoke of Mr. Wickham.”
My dear.
She did not think that he had ever called her that, but the endearment slipped out of him so easily.
Mr. Darcy received a wide smile from Elizabeth, and she said, “You were my perfect hero, and I thank you.”
“Has married life been what you both anticipated?” Papa smiled at them.
Elizabeth blushed.
“I can see that you look far better than before, Mr. Darcy—is it married life, or the natural recovery following a significant wound?”
“It is Elizabeth’s care and ministrations, beyond any doubt,” Darcy replied in a solemn tone.
Papa peered at him in such a way that Elizabeth giggled.
“We did,” Elizabeth offered, “consult a surgeon about the bullet remaining in Mr. Darcy, but he thinks that it is unlikely to ever cause any significant problems, and that any attempt to remove it would be far too dangerous.”
“One should never undertake surgery, except for the gravest reasons,” Mr. Bennet agreed. “And your sister, Mr. Darcy. She seems as attached as ever to the children and to be healthy.”
Both Darcy and Elizabeth frowned and looked at each other. “I am anxious for her,” Darcy said slowly. “Elizabeth has said the same. There likely shall be permanent consequences from her interaction with Mr. Wickham.”
“Whether or not she is with child,” Papa said, “there were permanent consequences—But this is not a matter for humor. What do you mean to do? I should mention that Mrs. Bennet is rather hopeful that you will invite some of the girls to spend some months with you.”
“To throw them into the paths of other rich men?” Elizabeth said with some distaste.
“It is strange that I can both be delighted to see a person and yet find it difficult to listen to what they say—while we do not know what we shall do for Georgiana, nor even if we shall do anything, it would not be wise to have one of my sisters with me—ought I feel guilty about that? The thought had never even occurred to me.”
She liked having Georgiana around. While she loved her sisters, it was a matter more of knowing than of feeling at present.
“I do not think so,” Papa said. “You have not seen them for years.”
“I wonder. I think that my determination to never take anything that could reduce their dowries was a matter more of pride than of love.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and he said seriously, “Pride that leads to acting to help others cannot be despised.”
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth said. “But we must always do what we can for each other. It is not good to always refuse to seek help. That was my mistake.”
“I am delighted to hear you say so much.” Papa said, “I may be as surprised as you were when you heard that I had saved some three thousand pounds.”
“I am proud of you, Papa, for doing so much,” Elizabeth smiled at him.
“What would you do for Georgiana, if she were your charge?” Darcy asked Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth was a little surprised to hear her husband ask Papa for such advice.
After thinking for a period of time, Papa said, “I do not know. I would be extremely angry at myself, which—”
“I assure you,” Elizabeth said, taking Darcy’s hand and squeezing it, “that has already been attempted, without improving matters.”
“You have been kind to her.” Papa said, “Kinder I think than I would have been.”
“You have been kind to me,” Elizabeth said.
“I had years in which my temper had time to cool. There were at least three months when I intended to delight in the observation of your misery as you came to understand my superior wisdom, but alas, too late.”
Elizabeth laughed, though she perceived that Darcy was not at all amused.
“My dear Papa,” she said.
“It is a hard thing. A hard, hard thing,” Papa said.
“No matter what you think of her, there shall be the judgement from the public. The easiest thing, perhaps, would be if you can see her married well, before any child is born. But…I would not force anyone to marry when they are unsuited, and with such an urgency.”
“My friends, acquaintances,” Darcy said, “even total strangers fete me—I always was well respected, but people think highly of me in a wholly different way now. I hate it. There are some who see the matter as a tragedy, and view me as a murderer, and I like them better for it. Though I gained honor and renown by killing a man in a duel, everyone thinks far worse of Georgiana than before. Her character is ruined in the eyes of the ton…the duel was also to protect her honor. But that is not what happened.”
“Where did you gain that notion?” Papa said.
“Duels are never about that. The purpose of the duel is to prove to others that you cannot be trifled with—why do you think that many fathers will savagely beat their daughters for an intimate connection with a man they dislike? In many countries, though fortunately only rarely in England, the ordinary course is for a woman’s brothers to murder her if she is found to have lost her virtue—this is not to protect the woman.
It is to prove the murderous virtues of the man. ”
“Yet…yet…I was filled with rage at how he had hurt my sister. And he was filled with his own rage towards me. And that is why it happened.”
That evening Mrs. Bennet threw the first of many parties that were to be held in Elizabeth’s honor.
It was clear that she was a fascinating creature to her neighbors.
The unpleasant part was that it seemed to her that the story that Mr. Darcy had killed Mr. Wickham so that he could marry her was generally believed. It was odd to Elizabeth how a tale so clearly without foundation could spread so easily.
In the end Elizabeth tried as much as possible to adopt Papa’s view of the matter: What do we live for, but to make sport of our neighbors and be made sport of in turn.
The chief joy of the evening had been renewing her acquaintance with Charlotte Lucas.
The next day Charlotte came to Longbourn to visit in the morning.
After twenty minutes conversation in the drawing room, and a demand from George to Papa Darcy and Elizabeth to together read to him the new book that his grandfather had given him, Elizabeth and Charlotte went out following the children and Georgiana running back and forth excitedly in the yard.
Mr. Darcy retreated to the library with Mr. Bennet to either play chess or argue about a report of a barrow excavation that was described in a journal they both subscribed to.
“I do hope,” Elizabeth said, “That Mr. Bingley likes the neighborhood, and Netherfield. He is a dear friend to Mr. Darcy, and I found him handsome, personable, and an easy delight to converse with.”
“And,” Charlotte said with a smile, “I imagine that you have other motives.”
“You certainly,” Elizabeth cried, “cannot imagine that I have already married all four of my sisters to him at once.”
Charlotte grinned. “I meant that you might find it preferable to stay at Netherfield than at Longbourn when next you visit the neighborhood—it appears crowded.”
This brought another laugh from Elizabeth. “It is. It never crossed my mind to imagine Longbourn too small for comfort—but it is not in fact a lack of rooms.”
“No?” Her friend raised her eyebrow.
“You are well acquainted with all of the parties to the question, except for Mr. Darcy—but when I say that he is reserved and fastidious, and takes time to become close to people, in general, although he was quick to fall into easy habits with me, you will know all that there is to know upon the subject.”
“I think it is you who seems to find more difficulty bearing up than Mr. Darcy.”
“My mother,” Elizabeth replied laughingly, “is very much in awe of him—and a few words to her, suggesting quietly things that he particularly dislikes hearing, has done wonders to the tenor of our connection in the drawing room. I think she does not understand the scope of freedom that proper settlements give to a woman and thinks that I ought to be far more afraid of Mr. Darcy than is reasonable.”
“No, she is right. To offend a husband is not a small thing.” Charlotte said seriously, “It is a matter I have given much thought.”
Elizabeth also gave it some thought. “I…I suppose, in neither marriage, have I felt any fear of my husband. I knew how to manage Wickham, and while I do not think I can manage Mr. Darcy so easily, there is no need with him to worry.”
“You trust him then.”
This struck Elizabeth.
Trust?
She had thought it was impossible to trust a man again after how thoroughly she had been disappointed by Wickham.
With a widening smile, Elizabeth replied, “I do, completely.”
“You have been very fortunate,” Charlotte said. “I know you must assume that many odd things are said about your marriage, and that—”
“I will say it again; Mr. Darcy did not kill Wickham for my sake.”
Charlotte laughed. “I referred to the notion that you are a fortune hunter. But it is clearly not true—and not simply because that is not your character.”
“I paid a great deal of attention to prudential considerations in accepting Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes, but you also did so because you like him.”
“And because I trusted in his good character,” Elizabeth replied.
“Only a fool would pay no attention to prudential considerations twice,” Charlotte said. “I observed that there is a strong mutual attachment between him and the children.”
Elizabeth smiled happily at that notion. “It is delightful to watch—for a week he would glow from within, as though he had been given a treasure worth a thousand pounds, every time George called him Papa Darcy—I did not let George say that until we actually were married.”
“You do not wish him to simply call Darcy ‘Papa’?”