Chapter 5 Love Inestimable Despite Flaws
“I love him, Papa!”
“That is not love, Lizzy, but if you are absolutely certain that you will have him…?”
“Imagine what you like about my incentives—” Mr Bennet shook his head whilst one corner of his mouth turned upwards; he was wrong of course.
Mr Darcy had come as promised, though significantly later than breakfast. He had whispered a pardon in her ear; apparently Mr Bingley was not an early riser by nature and not at all after a late-night ball.
Elizabeth had admittedly fretted the hours before his arrival, concerned that he might have changed his mind.
Her mother’s hysterics following Mary’s refusal of Mr Collins had done nothing to alleviate her misgivings.
When Mr Darcy finally arrived with Mr Bingley, asking for her father whilst his friend begged for a private moment with Jane, she swore that nothing would prompt her to doubt him ever again.
It was fixed: she loved Mr Darcy, and no one else would do.
“Papa, I am quite determined that no other gentleman could ever compare.”
Mr Bennet looked only mildly hurt by her insinuation that Mr Darcy was the best man she had ever known. His expression turned wry ere long.
“I see… I gave him my blessing, of course. I would never dare to refuse such a man, and I wish you very happy.”
Elizabeth met Mr Bingley on her return to the parlour, where Mrs Bennet was loudly lamenting Mary’s rejection of Mr Collins.
When she entered, Mr Darcy was offering for a distraught Mary, who until this day had never opposed anything her parents had ever demanded, to join them in London once they had returned from their bridal trip.
Being subjected, for hours on end, to her mother’s scolding had reduced her most stoic sister to tears.
Mr Darcy’s compassion was humbling; he resolved every problem he encountered, in stark contrast to her father, who hid in the book room to avoid Mrs Bennet.
“I cannot impose upon a newly married couple. I am certain Lizzy will not approve.”
“Then you are mistaken,” Elizabeth assured her.
“I do not mind.” She would like to say that Mary was welcome to visit whenever she wished but feared that she and Mr Darcy would never have a moment of privacy.
She was eagerly anticipating being quite alone with her future husband if the kisses they had shared were anything to go by.
“Mary will never marry a lord, being so plain, but a second or third son with an unmarried older brother would do nicely. Or better yet, take Lydia to town instead. Her beauty and liveliness will surely attract a baron, at the very least.” Mrs Bennet’s thoughts never strayed long from marrying off her daughters.
Elizabeth held her breath and fervently wished her mother would retire to her bed.
It was fortunate that Mr Bingley offered a convenient distraction by returning from Mr Bennet’s study.
She had hoped to relate their news to the matron in private, to spare Mr Darcy from her exaggerated effusions and embarrassing comments upon his wealth and consequence.
It was very well that the attention reverted to Mr Bingley, who garnered Mrs Bennet’s notice by relating his own news.
“I am engaged to be married,” he cried. “My dearest Jane has consented to be my wife, and Mr Bennet has kindly given us his blessing.”
Mrs Bennet shrieked, fainted, and was once again carried to her room. The gentlemen took their leave soon thereafter, and silence descended upon the sisters, who remained deep in their own pleasant musings.
“How droll… You are to marry the proud Mr Darcy. I shall henceforth address you as Mrs High-and-mighty.”
Elizabeth stared at Lydia and hoped that her disgust was evident on her face. “Mr Darcy has reason to be proud. He is a distinguished gentleman of excellent connections, but I dare say he is not improperly so. May you be as fortunate as I when it is your time to marry.”
“I would never settle for a mere gentleman. It has to be a dashing officer, or I shall not marry at all. If I cannot be the first Bennet sister to wed, I shall choose the most handsome husband of all my sisters. Then, you can envy me at your leisure…”
Elizabeth raised her head and laughed because such was her happiness. Not even the most ridiculous comment from her silliest sister could lower her spirits.
#
Longbourn, December
11th
Is longing fatal?
Mr Darcy’s sojourn to town had lasted much longer than Elizabeth’s patience.
Due to business and family obligations, he had remained for two exceedingly long and tedious weeks.
It was a blessing and her salvation that he wrote excellent letters—full of longing and assurances that he would indeed return to her much-sought-after company.
His long letters contained not only flattery; Elizabeth surmised that she learnt more about her husband through his written words than in all their conversations combined.
Mrs Hill entered breathing like a dog in heat. She must have run and was casting apprehensive glances over her shoulder. The rhythmic taps of a cane hitting the floor notified the residents that a guest was approaching.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh to see you, ma’am.”
Mrs Hill curtsied and moved to make way for a tall, formidable woman whose straight back and forceful presence did not indicate the walking stick was needed to support her.
“May I offer you some tea?” her mother’s voice squeaked.
The lady neither replied nor requested an introduction. She scrutinised each and every person in the room before her eyes came to rest upon Jane.
“Are you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” she snapped.
Jane smiled serenely. “No, your ladyship. I am Miss Jane Bennet.”
To end the farce, Elizabeth stepped forward. “I am she.”
The ever-present Mr Collins, who had prolonged his stay due to his swift change of heart and engagement to Miss Lucas, smirked at her before bowing to the floor in front of his patroness.
The toad must have written to Lady Catherine and apprised her of Elizabeth’s engagement to Mr Darcy.
His objections had been vocal when the happy news had been related to him; he had made all sorts of vile accusations like proclaiming Mr Darcy was already engaged to his cousin, forcing Elizabeth to wait for four tormenting days before Mr Darcy’s reassuring letter arrived.
An agony she had yet to forgive him for.
Lady Catherine barely offered Mr Collins a nod before shooing him out of her way.
“You have a pretty sort of wilderness beyond your small garden.”
“It is nothing compared to Rosings, I am sure, but it is larger than Sir William Lucas’s,” Mrs Bennet interrupted, but the lady paid her no mind.
“I should like to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company,” Lady Catherine suggested with a steady glare at Elizabeth.
“Go, dear,” her mother cried. “And show her the hermitage as well.”
Elizabeth obeyed for the sake of her family, to end the awkwardness, and to receive the scolding she was certain would follow.
“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand my reason for coming hither.”
“I am not,” Elizabeth agreed.
“Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”
“He has.”
“This match to which you aspire can never take place. Mr Darcy is engaged to my daughter.”
“If it was so, he would never have made an offer to me,” Elizabeth retorted assertively.
Lady Catherine hesitated, then replied, “Their betrothal is of a peculiar kind. They have been engaged since infancy as the dearest wish of her mother as well as his. Now that our plans for the union might be accomplished, I shall not allow a young woman of inferior birth, of no consequence in the world, and wholly unallied to the family, to prevent it. They are suited in every way, from their descent from ancient lines to their education. Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy?”
“The Bennets came to England with William the Conqueror. If you have no other objections than the wish of his mother and aunt, I shall not jilt him.”
“You will be censured, slighted, and despised by all of superior society.”
“A heavy misfortune indeed, but as Mrs Darcy I shall have such extraordinary sources of happiness that I shall have no reason to repine.”
“What if he is shunned to the detriment of his income and must live on a pittance of what Pemberley is worth?”
Elizabeth hesitated. How dependent upon his fortune was Mr Darcy? Would he resent her if his income was significantly reduced? No, it was impossible because she had every faith in her betrothed and was even more certain of their love.
“I am a decent seamstress and would supplement our income by taking on work.”
Lady Catherine stepped intimidatingly closer. “I am not in the habit of brooking disappointment,” she hissed.
“That makes your ladyship’s situation more pitiable, but it has no effect on me.”
Lady Catherine turned away before making the vilest accusation yet. “You remind me of myself as a young lady.”
“That is the most insulting observation anyone has ever made about me,” Elizabeth cried and made to leave.
Lady Catherine threw back her head, laughed heartily, and halted her movement.
“I was not speaking about your beauty but your character. I see in you a younger version of my headstrong, wilful self. Never lose your opinionated, obstinate streak. It will serve you well.” Lady Catherine frowned, and her eyes searched Elizabeth’s countenance.
“You truly do remind me of someone I have not seen for decades. Are you certain you do not have German ancestry?”
Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. How could Lady Catherine know that her grandmother was of German descent? No, it must be a coincidence. It was best not to mention it. Grandmother Bennet’s reconciliation with her brother was by no means a certainty, and divulging family secrets was not her place.
“As I said, the Bennets are of ancient French descent,” Elizabeth replied evenly. It was not a lie, merely an omission.