Chapter 11 Elizabeth #2
When Mr Darcy rejoined the group, however, he looked…disturbed. Elizabeth swiftly organised a walk in the gardens, and of course she and her suitor walked more quickly than anyone else, so they would have privacy. “What has happened?” Elizabeth asked him.
“Your father rang a peal over me for meeting with you privately and taking liberties. He said he had spied your swollen lips when you came back from your walk this morning.”
“We are to be married. And it is not as if we were indiscreet or in danger of…well, you know.”
Mr Darcy rubbed his hand down his face and then remained silent for several long moments.
Finally, he sighed. “I am seven years older than you; of course your father is upset with me for flouting propriety. I listened to his complaints and apologised, and of course I said that, to make it right, I would marry you promptly. But then your father became very huffy, and he said that you are too young, we have not known one another long enough, and he would not approve a wedding just because I cannot control my baser passions.”
“He said that? I thought you were doing well in your courting his favour.”
“I did, too. But seeing you this morning angered him.”
“I have to go speak with him!”
“Perhaps that is unwise.”
“I have to try. I do not wish to wait three years to wed you.”
Mr Darcy returned to the parlour as Elizabeth went to the library, to speak with her father.
“So, your young man ran to tell you his woes, did he?” her father said. He had a singularly unsympathetic expression on his face.
“We talk to each other about everything, Papa. I immediately saw that he was upset, and of course I asked him what had distressed him. Of course he told me the truth.”
“Lizzy, you say that you talk to each other about everything, but that cannot be true.”
“Yes, that is a small exaggeration,” Elizabeth admitted.
She remembered that Mr Darcy had said he would not describe his improper dreams—not yet, he had said.
“But we have talked about our hopes and dreams of the future, our pasts, the friends and family members in our life—and of course his parents, who have passed.”
“Has he told you about his mistresses?”
Elizabeth was a bit shocked at her father’s question—in part because his expression was calculating.
She shot back, instantly, “We have discussed the topic. He has had no mistresses, he will have no mistresses in the future, and he does not like the way that society accepts behaviours from men that it does not accept from women.”
She saw her father jerk back in surprise.
“And you believed him?” he asked. “Lizzy, you are not so foolish.”
“Papa, I met Mr Darcy in London, while I was under Uncle Edward’s protection.
I met him when he was surrounded by family, and Aunt Maddie met them all then, as well.
I can assure you that my uncle and aunt already knew something of Mr Darcy’s sterling reputation before I even met him, and they looked into that reputation further.
I met friends of Mr Darcy’s, and they were consistent in their reports of him. ”
She leant forward and went on, “I met some men who knew Mr Darcy and who did not like him. He, in turn, despised them. Those men criticised him. Do you know what they said?”
Her father just stared at her, blinking.
“They said that in school he was called the Monk because he lived like one, and they mentioned that he had never danced a first set with anyone before me, and they warned me that he would have no idea of how to satisfy me.”
She watched her father cringe.
“Those are some of the many reasons that I believe Mr Darcy. That is some of the evidence that he has not had a mistress. What is your evidence that he has had one? Do you have any evidence at all?”
Her father shook his head.
“He is a good man, Papa—the best man I know—and we wish to marry.
If you do not give your consent, I will attempt to use the law against you, and if that is impossible—if the law is on your side—I will speak with both of my uncles about what can be done, how you can be worked on.
I will not wait until I come of age; if I must, I will elope.
“It matters not to me if you approve or disapprove of my suitor. For years I have begged you to pay more attention to all of us—to your daughters—to make more effort to provide education, to at least try to improve our prospects. I pleaded with you to curtail Mama’s excesses and Lydia’s carelessness.
You have never moved a muscle to exert your parental duties. But now you think to do so?”
She had been staring into her father’s eyes as she scolded him, and he had met her fiery gaze with his own stubborn one.
But now, finally, he dropped his eyes. She continued with a softer tone—but her words were still stern, almost as if she was the parent and he the child.
“No matter what happens, Papa, no matter how we wed, Mr Darcy will settle enough money on me to keep me safe, and his will and testament will protect me and any children we may have. The only real effect of you withholding your permission is that I will rarely if ever see you and Mother again. I will definitely be seeing my sisters, even if we have to wait until each becomes of age and can escape you.”
Her father’s face was red, and Elizabeth knew she had to stop her rant; it could not be healthy for her father to be so angry.
She stood up. “Call for him or me when you are ready to give us permission to wed. I will wait a week before taking steps against you.”