Chapter 13 Mr Bennet
Mr Bennet
Mr Bennet went to bed embarrassed. He had tried not to show how angry he was, how ashamed he felt, how…diminished he found himself to be.
At whom was he angry? Perhaps the better question was, at whom was he not angry?
Certainly that Darcy fellow was vexing. It was not enough that he had to be handsome enough to tempt Lizzy away—oh, no, he had to be rich, as well.
But it had been extremely discomposing to realise how intelligent and knowledgeable and likeable the fellow was.
And…well, the sincerity had simply radiated from Lizzy as she claimed he was the best man she knew.
Mr Bennet, knowing what he knew, having seen the man in action, having heard from others…
he had to admit that he did indeed seem to have high principles and a good character.
Bingley, of course, was more irritating than vexing. His sweet Janey seemed to look at him with stars in her eyes, but Mr Bennet was positive that the man would either move on to some other lady, or prove himself unworthy, or most likely just leave the area, still unattached.
As for Lizzy—she had given him a set-down that was wholly unexpected.
He had never dreamt of being scolded in such a way, not by anyone, and certainly not by one of his daughters!
It was…. Well, to be completely honest, it was as glorious as it was horrifying.
His Lizzy was so…so strong…so determined.
She had said that she and her beau told each other almost everything—but Mr Bennet hoped she had not told Darcy everything that had been said in their little tête-a-tête. It would be humiliating for others to know about the set-down.
He had studied Darcy carefully as they met again at the dinner table, and he seemed more composed than he would be, surely, if he knew….
Mr Bennet managed, somehow, not to even consider if he was angry with himself.
When he awoke the next morning, a bit later than usual, he moved slowly through his morning routine.
His man always had some warm water ready to wash with, and he had plenty of garments that were loose enough and soft enough to be reasonably fashionable but more comfortable than constricting.
He shambled into his library without seeing anyone, which was customary, and he loved his hot coffee, warm roll, and daily newspaper, each of which was brought to him as it was every day, without him having to trouble himself to ring for service.
He did not allow his morning routine to zig off into contemplation about the previous day’s troubles or zag off into action to address those troubles.
He carefully did not investigate to ensure that Lizzy did not have another early-morning tryst. He cautiously did not not emerge from his library to peek at her, as she arrived for breakfast, to see if her lips were swollen or red.
He certainly did not consider sending for her to give her his blessing to marry, but nor did he spend even a moment attempting to come up with a strategy to ensure that she did not “take steps against him.”
He did none of those things. Instead, he sipped his coffee, nibbled on his buttered roll, and buried his head in his newspaper.