Chapter 11
Eleven
“What if Papa refuses to give his consent?”
Next to Jane on the sofa, Elizabeth set aside her book of Wordsworth’s poetry—a recently gifted volume from Darcy that had become a favourite—to respond to her sister’s fretful question.
“He will not. Even if he does, which is so unlikely as to be improbable, you are of age and can marry where you like.”
Jane’s knee bounced as she replied, “But I should hate to disappoint him. How can I wed a man that my dear father disapproves of?”
Taking up her sister’s nearest hand, Elizabeth cooed a soothing refutation.
“Dearest, you are worried over nothing. Papa will not deny his consent or his blessing—it is not his way. Have you ever known him to say nay to anything we or our sisters have ever asked of him? Aside from entry to his book-room, that is.”
“No, but…”
“And even if he were inclined to reject Mr Bingley’s suit—which, again, he assuredly will not—do you think there is any chance he would gladly endure Mama’s indignation? Even should he dare, she would change his mind within the hour with her incessant harangues.”
“That is true,” Jane conceded, biting her lip. “It is only that I expected Mr Bingley to call by now, so I cannot help worrying over what has delayed him.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand. “If aught has delayed him, it would be our mother’s raptures in welcoming him to the family. I promise you that he will be at our doorstep ere long, full of good news.”
And Elizabeth proved to be right, for the gentleman arrived barely half an hour later, bursting into the parlour with so much palpable enthusiasm that there was no doubt of his journey to Longbourn being a complete success.
Mr Bennet’s approval was writ large upon his features, which were strained by the abundant joy he could not disguise.
He went directly to Jane and sat on her other side to deliver the glad tidings.
Pleased as Elizabeth was for her sister, she could not help looking to the empty doorway behind Mr Bingley for any sign of his friend.
Mr Darcy had visited nearly every day since stating his intent to woo her three weeks ago, and she had come to anticipate his calls with an enthusiasm that sent her heart racing.
Alas, he had not come with Mr Bingley, causing Elizabeth to shrink back in disappointment.
How strange it was to wish for Mr Darcy’s presence!
It was not so long ago that she had grudgingly offered him an olive branch for his service to Jane, and not much longer since she had absolutely detested him.
Now she looked forward to their conversations, eagerly watched for his arrival, and could actually imagine a future in which she was allowed to indulge in his company whenever she pleased.
A quick glance at the mantel clock reassured her that it was still a touch early for his appearance, for Mr Darcy punctually arrived at Gracechurch Street at exactly the same time every day to pay his calls, and it was a quarter to the usual hour now. Soon. He will be here soon.
“Here you are, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth turned at the endearment to find Mr Bingley—whom she had allowed the privilege of addressing her informally as soon as he had proposed to Jane—proffering her a letter with her mother’s handwriting scrawled across the front.
She accepted it without any particular expectation of its contents.
“I wonder why my mother would send me a letter as well as Jane.”
“I suppose to inform you of her travel plans.”
“Travel plans?”
“Your mother intends to come to town with your two youngest sisters to assist Jane in shopping for her wedding clothes.” He spared a moment to turn a glowing smile upon his betrothed before continuing, “I believe you can expect them on Tuesday.”
Elizabeth’s nose wrinkled at the information.
She loved her mother and was not disinclined to see her again, but the boorishness of inviting herself into someone else’s home was distasteful.
The Gardiners would not complain, for they were used to Mrs Bennet’s ways, but hosting three additional people could not but strain a household that had little time to prepare for them.
And Mama is not yet aware of my new understanding with Mr Darcy.
She flinched as this thought scuttled across her brain.
Mrs Bennet was no proponent of the gentleman, having taken his insult to heart more than Elizabeth herself back in the autumn.
She was known to observe her daughters with a critical eye, but woe betide anyone outside the family who dared.
Mrs Bennet was proud of her coterie of girls, and any advice, no matter how unwelcome or unfeeling, was always intended to be in their service.
An outright attack on any of them provoked Mrs Bennet’s maternal nature, and Elizabeth was unsure whether all Mr Darcy’s wealth could assuage her mother’s outrage.
Unexpectedly, a warm feeling suffused her chest on Mrs Bennet’s behalf.
Whatever could be said of her, whatever her faults, she did love them to the point of unfailing loyalty.
Elizabeth knew she often vexed her mother with her pert opinions and wild ramblings, yet Mrs Bennet was a staunch defender of even her most troublesome daughter.
With fond feelings, Elizabeth at last opened her mother’s letter.
Much of it was effusions over Jane’s engagement and the aforementioned intention to come to London sans invitation—oh, Mama—but there was an additional paragraph towards the end that reinvigorated the irritation Mrs Bennet generally inspired in her second daughter.
I hope you will follow Jane’s example and find yourself a beau whilst you remain in London.
I have already asked Mr Bingley to make me a list of any friends of his who might suit, and I expect you to behave in a manner befitting a lady when being introduced to them.
None of your impertinence, if you please!
Simply hold your tongue and agree with everything they say—it is not so difficult.
Take Jane as your model. If nothing else, I will not have you ruin the chances of Kitty and Lydia, who are sure to make quite the impression on all the eligible gentlemen.
So long as you do not frighten them off, I daresay they can have their pick.
The only wonder to Elizabeth was that her youngest sisters were willing to leave the militia behind in Meryton to pursue Mr Bingley’s friends. Then she recalled the amount of shopping London afforded and decided it was not so mysterious after all.
Elizabeth was distracted from her brown study by the announcement of Mr Darcy’s arrival.
Her heart stuttered a beat as he strolled into the room—a whole five minutes early, according to the clock—and came to her with an endearing tilt to his lips.
She set Mrs Bennet’s missive aside and gladly joined him in their favoured chairs beside the window.
“The roads are just dreadful this time of year!” declared Mrs Bennet as she slumped into a chair beside the fireplace. “Were it not for my dear Jane’s sake, I would not have risked the journey at all.”
Kitty and Lydia, also apparently fatigued from a scarce four hours in Mr Bingley’s luxurious carriage, lolled about on a sofa and added their complaints to their mother’s.
“Lord, I am so hungry!” said Lydia with a petulant whine.
“And thirsty!” added Kitty.
Elizabeth exchanged a wearied glance with Jane but otherwise did not respond. To indulge their grievances would only encourage them to greater heights of woe.
Mrs Gardiner, behaving with the decorum her guests seemed incapable of, assured them that a tea service was on its way up from the kitchen and did her best to make them comfortable. Mrs Bennet, always happier wallowing in her nervous misery, was not so easily mollified.
“It will be a trial to parade up and down Bond Street tomorrow, exhausted as I am, but we shall forge on.” She said this with a listless wave of her lacy handkerchief.
“You need not overexert yourself, Mama,” replied Jane. “We can always begin our shopping in a few days, or even next week.”
With far more spirit than she had yet shown, Mrs Bennet sat up straight in her chair.
“What? And waste all that time? Gracious, girl, you have no notion of how much we shall need to buy. You are to be married to a wealthy man, and that comes with a long list of necessary items to see you fitted out for your new role in society.”
Jane exchanged a glance with Elizabeth that belied her discomfort at being spoiled so. “Oh, I am sure I shall not need more than the usual number of items.”
Mrs Bennet was aghast. “Nonsense! I shall not see my daughter disgraced before the ton. What would people say?”
While silently admitting that her mother had a point, given the supercilious nature of London society, Elizabeth made to change the subject for Jane’s sake. “Where is Mary?”
Mrs Bennet stuck her nose up in the air and gave a disdainful sniff. “She would not come. She wanted no part of our ‘fripperies’, as she called them, and chose to stay at home with your father. I say good riddance, for Mr Bingley’s friends would be wasted on her.”
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Jane frown.
“As for you, Miss Lizzy”—Mrs Bennet sat up straighter, finger pointed menacingly at her second daughter—“I expect you to make every effort to attract a suitor. You are already almost one-and-twenty and in no position to be as particular as you were with Mr Collins. Any eligible gentleman will do.”
Even knowing that Mrs Bennet’s directive came from a place of fear and a determination to see her girls properly cared for did not lessen Elizabeth’s annoyance with her. Any eligible gentleman would do? She begged to disagree. Only Mr Darcy would satisfy her.
A second after this thought arose, unbidden, in her mind, she felt the earth-shaking truth of it. I have lost my heart to Mr Darcy!
Such a discovery made Elizabeth wish to throw herself into his arms at once, but alas, Mr Darcy and his cousin were paying their annual visit to their aunt in Kent—a duty he would have preferred to forego, but feared he could not without calamity befalling her mismanaged estate—and would not return until late Thursday, at least. He had promised to be present at dinner at Gracechurch Street on Friday, but she had no expectations of him before that.
A mere four days had never felt like such an eternity to wait!
“Fanny,” interjected Mrs Gardiner, ever keenly attuned to brewing disputes, “you ought to know that Lizzy has already gained the interest of a desirable gentleman who has been courting her for nearly a month now.”
Mrs Bennet and the younger girls turned simultaneously to Mrs Gardiner, who sat placidly with her hands folded in her lap as if she had not just delivered astonishing news.
Astonishing to them, at least, who never seemed to credit Elizabeth with any beguiling qualities.
She might have laughed at their stunned expressions were she not so dumbstruck over her epiphany regarding her feelings for said gentleman.
“Lizzy has a beau?” cried Lydia with an insulting amount of incredulity. “Who is it?”
Mrs Gardiner looked to Elizabeth—a silent nudge. Clearing her throat, she haltingly said, “Mr Darcy.”
“Mr Darcy!” Mrs Bennet repeated at a shrill pitch. A second later, she scoffed. “Do not tease me, Lizzy, for I know he does not find you handsome. Who is it? One of your uncle’s clerks? I suppose that would not be wholly unacceptable, should none of Mr Bingley’s friends show interest…”
Elizabeth sat up straighter and arranged her features into a serious configuration.
“I assure you that I am in earnest, Mama. Mr Darcy has been calling on me these past three weeks, and he assures me that his intention is marriage. Whatever he may have said in the past he has apologised for and persuaded me that he did not mean it.”
Mrs Bennet observed Elizabeth with narrowed eyes, skimming her gaze up and down her daughter’s form, presumably for any sign of deception.
Elizabeth allowed this without objection, acknowledging to herself that her mother had just cause to assume she was being made the butt of a joke; Mr Bennet was prone to leading her into a farce, and even Elizabeth herself had made sport of her mother’s understanding before.
If Mrs Bennet was suspicious, it was well earned.
“Hmm,” was all Mrs Bennet ultimately said in response.
“I have invited Mr Darcy as a guest to the dinner party on Friday, and you can observe for yourself how he dotes on Lizzy,” reported Mrs Gardiner. “Once you have seen them together, I daresay you will be plotting her wedding clothes as well as Jane’s.”
“We shall see, I suppose,” was Mrs Bennet’s sceptical reply before the conversation moved on to listing every article of clothing she insisted Jane would need as Mrs Bingley.