Four Horsewomen
Darcy settled into the corner where all three ladies had a good view—and an easy swing with their fans, should it prove necessary to knock some sense into him.
Jane leaned forward slowly and regarded him with care. “That happens to me as well. Not often, but whenever I read a letter from Lizzy, for instance, I see her and hear her voice reading. I also have visions of my aunt or my grandmother from time to time.”
Ellen added, “For me, ‘tis my ‘da, or me brother as died five years ago, but I see the same things.”
Anne added, “I always thought I might be mad, and if not, it might give my mother an excuse to commit me, so I never mentioned it.”
Darcy curiously asked, “Who do you see, Anne? I see my mother, and do not take this amiss, but I hope you do not share that habit.”
Anne laughed softly. “No, neither of my parents. I saw entirely too much of their advice in my waking hours. I see… well… mostly I see Lady Anne.” at which point she blushed furiously, as if she were stealing something precious from her cousin.
“Do not look so concerned. I mostly saw my mother or Lady Matlock, but rarely the last few years. One could argue my mother came to you because she found me a hopeless case.”
Everyone laughed at that.
Jane said, “People do not talk about this sort of thing, mostly because they believe others will think them daft. None of this should leave the carriage.”
Everyone nodded, so Jane continued, “I know my sister Lizzy sees such things when she is distressed, and probably other times I do not know about. It has happened rarely, but there have been instances when she thought three or four people were all yelling at her at once. It is disconcerting—and she would be most unhappy to learn I shared it.”
“Have you witnessed this?” Darcy asked. “Can you tell when it is happening?”
Jane wondered what he did to awaken Lizzy’s ghosts, because it took quite a lot. “I saw it once, but I shall not describe the scene, as it was unnerving. Her eyes lose focus and stare at the spot where all her visions are speaking instead of the person she is with.”
Darcy blew out a breath. “I have visions as well, though not as disconcerting as that. My mother used to give me good advice regularly, but as I grew older, and frankly less sensible, she appeared less often. I had not seen her for years until—”
Jane started forward in her seat and said quite enthusiastically, “You saw her standing between Ellen and I, did you not?”
Darcy smiled at the memory. “I did. It was wonderful and sad at the same time. It struck me that you two could pass for sisters.”
Anne exclaimed, “Yes! I never put it together, but it makes sense.”
Jane smiled happily. “Well then, Mr Darcy. If I am to be the new vision of your mother, perhaps you should tell me the words she tried to pound into your head. Perhaps we can make a dent.”
Darcy laughed, wondering how so much laughter and heartache could exist in his breast at the same time. “I shall tell you the exact words she said there beside the fallen log.”
He prepared himself, pitched his voice slightly higher for effect, and repeated his mother’s long-ago words: “One of these days, my son, one of these days, some woman is going to pull you off that high horse of yours,” then continued the rest of the speech, culminating in, “I only hope whoever brings about your reckoning will be able to see my real son before ‘tis too late.”
All three women stared, mouths agape, so Darcy resumed his own voice.
“So, you see, it was fate. My mother spent all those years counselling Anne, while waiting for my heart and my mind to accept her word, and then naturally came to see me at the exact moment when I could identify the four horsewomen.”
Nobody spoke for a moment, until finally Ellen said, “You’re one short.”
He gave a grim chuckle. “She is apparently touring the northern counties with her new friends. She may very well pull me all the way from my high horse to my grave.”
Jane, having leaned back against the squabs, came forward to take Mr Darcy’s hands once more.
She hesitated, as if expecting a vision of her aunt to chastise her for her utter lack of propriety, or perhaps her mother’s ghost to urge her to greater feats of daring; she was about an inch short of compromise.
Holding his hands, she asked, “Why did she leave, Mr Darcy? What did you say to her?”
Darcy stared down at their clasped hands and grimaced. “I made the worst proposal in the history of the English language. I told her that I admired and loved her, then asked for her hand in marriage after having insulted her abominably.”
Jane gasped, and a slow smile spread across her face. “And how did she react?”
Darcy looked at her intently. “She… well… now that you mention it—”
“Yes, yes. Remember her exact words and manner. It may be important.”
Darcy chuckled, though with little humour. “The words are easy enough. She said not a word. Not. One. Word. She walked from the parlour, donned her bonnet, took up her reticule and pelisse, ran to Hunsford Village, and boarded the first coach.”
Jane gasped, though not in surprise; it was the sudden realisation that everything now made perfect sense. “Go on. That is not all.”
“I did not piece it together until you mentioned her ghosts. For what seemed hours, but was likely a minute or two, she stared fixedly at a spot some five feet to my left and gasped several times.”
Jane nodded. “Too many ghosts… It is odd though… very odd… completely unexpected.”
Darcy squeezed the hands still held in his. “What is odd?”
Jane shook her head to clear it before continuing.
“She must have had several ghosts advising her, and it seems certain some counselled her in the strongest terms to accept a life of ease and luxury, and another chance to protect her family. She evidently picked one and took their advice, but from the very last person in the world I would have expected.”
“Who would that be?”
“Our mother.”
He looked doubly confused, as if the concept of anyone taking advice from Mrs Bennet was too much to comprehend.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“The advice she followed,” Jane replied. “What an odd thing. She followed Mama’s advice. Who would have thought!”
“Could you be more specific?” Darcy asked desperately.
“Very well. This is important for you to understand. For as long as I can remember, my mother has tried to ‘correct’ Lizzy’s deportment.
I have no idea why Lizzy is her least favourite child, but it is so.
There have been many different, often contradictory, bouts of ‘advice’, but most common is some variation of this:”
As Darcy had before her, Jane sat up straight, raised her voice to a screech, and mimicked her mother.
If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all!
Everyone looked at Jane. “My mother had a dozen variants.”
If you cannot be pleasant, at least be silent!
A true lady is polite and demure under all provocations!
“Lizzy was a bit impertinent, but mostly she is very intelligent and unwilling to spend all day nattering about nothing, or listen to absolute nonsense without challenge—nor is she willing to appear stupid just to attract a man, and makes no bones about it. All this quite vexes my mother.”
Everyone paused for a moment, before Jane continued, “She probably pushed Lizzy over the top with her all-time favourite.”
Jane raised her voice to emulate her mother again.
“Well, Miss Lizzy Bennet! If you cannot say something nice, say nothing at all and take yourself elsewhere until you learn to keep a civil tongue in your head!”
Jane stared at her hands. “It sounds as if Lizzy seized upon that one.”
Darcy’s mouth fell open. Jane glanced up and stared at him, waiting for the gentleman to put two and two together, hoping he came up with four.
“She left to avoid saying something not nice?”
“Exactly.”
Darcy looked at her in consternation and asked sheepishly, “How, not nice?”
Jane looked pained. “Unless her feelings changed significantly from the time the colonel boasted of your skill at pulling Mr Spineless Worm away from me—which was less than four hours—we are contemplating very-very not nice!”
Darcy hung his head, looking as though he might revert to weeping again.
He took a deep breath. “I imagine I should answer your first two questions then.”
“You may as well.”
“There is nothing wrong with your family or you. Not a single thing! The fault is entirely mine. As my mother warned me, I filled myself with pride over my wealth, my position, my history, my family, and my perceived superiority of mind; all of it complete nonsense when compared to your sister. As to your second question, I convinced Bingley that you did not hold him in particular regard merely because I listened to your mother boast about ‘capturing’ him loudly and publicly, then watched you for a few hours, seeing no sign of particular regard in your eyes—as if any proper lady would let another man see that.”
Darcy sighed.
Jane said, “It was arrogance and presumption to guide Mr Bingley, but he is a grown man and made his own choices. I am better off without him.”
Darcy leaned forward. “That it ended well does not mitigate the presumption and heartlessness of the act. I could have insisted he take his leave like a man. Your lack of censure does not mitigate the wrongdoing. I do not believe it.”
“What do you believe, Mr Darcy?”
“I now believe my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events built so immovable a dislike for me in your sister. If she looked at me with implacable resentment and disgust, it would show nothing but good sense. She never desired my good opinion, and I certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.”
He sighed again. “Miss Elizabeth is likely lost to me, or at the very least, frightfully angry, and probably afraid. She is just hiding to gain her majority so she can say what must be said without fear of being forced into marriage.”
With that admission, even Anne did not have the heart to say anything. Nobody could think of anything to alleviate his misery for quite some time.
After several minutes, Ellen timidly asked, “Might’n I ask a question, Mr Darcy?”
“Of course. You can ask any question of me at any time, for the rest of our natural lives.”
Ellen blushed a bit. “All’a those things as-you say about Fate. Do you believe ‘em? Am I to meet your Mr Breton based on fate when you seem to have nary a hope for it yer-own-self?”
Darcy regarded her quizzically, so Ellen continued. “Listen to yer dear Mother. You’re just despairin’ acause you only have three of your horsewomen. You’re not defeated—you’re giving up.”
Surprisingly, Jane laughed uproariously. Everyone else joined in because they had no idea what else to do.
Finally, Jane spoke. “What was it you said? ‘I am hoping the horsewomen signal redemption and renewal.’ Are you so certain you are beyond redemption?”
Ellen, not to be outdone, reached across and clasped his hands, which already held Jane’s. “Are you to give up at the first obstacle?”
His spirits lifting, Darcy laughed. “Only if that first obstacle is my last breath.”
Jane laughed, released his hands, and leaned back against the squabs. “Much better! Much, much better. I was not finding the hangdog, defeated Darcy to my taste, nor do I think my sister would think much of him. Prepare yourself, sir. You have some courting to do.”
Darcy started in surprise. “Do you know where Miss Elizabeth is?”
“Annie, rap this knucklehead a few times, if you would.”
“Consider it done.”
“You have a narrow-minded idea of courting. Your—what did you call it—selfish disdain, offended nearly everyone Lizzy loves and respects for a ten-mile circle. If you want her love and respect, you need to court the good opinion of those who can convey that to her. It is either that or go north and ride aimlessly in search of her.”
Darcy stared, and slowly, a smile spread across his face.
“Miss Bennet… Miss Taylor… Anne… Your words have taught me to hope, as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I now know enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you thought your sister absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would now acknowledge it and send me packing with my tail between my legs.”
Jane laughed, then leaned forward. “I can promise you nothing, save my every effort to allow you to make a less abominable proposal.”
“I shall follow your counsel to the letter.”
Jane leaned forward again and met his eyes.
“As for the other questions: no more spineless worms! I find them distasteful. I have no idea whether I should severely chastise you for interfering in my courtship—which was none of your business—or kiss you for pulling an inconstant man from me. In future, I would appreciate it if you let me make my own mistakes.”
Darcy gulped and nodded.
Jane smiled brightly. “Cheer up. Three of your horsewomen are on task! Oh, and one other thing you said was in error. Yours was not really the worst proposal in the history of the English language. In fact, it was only the second worst proposal Lizzy received since Michaelmas. I believe Mr Collins’ was worse—and this is important—my mother tried with every tool at her disposal to force Elizabeth’s acquiescence, and she was never certain if my father sided with her out of concern, indolence, or perversity.
You should give my sister some clemency for running from you. ”
Darcy shook his head, trying to order his scattered thoughts, from the absolute horror of any man—let alone Mr Collins—being wed to his Elizabeth, to a final reckoning of how much worse his error was than even he had believed.
“I do not blame her for running from me,” he said at last. “The fault was entirely mine, and so must the remedy be.”
“No-no-no. Though I applaud your industry and desire to make amends, remember that your pride brought you to this impasse in the first place. You have friends; trust in us to put you to rights. I am no Lady Anne, but I know a thing or two.”
“I shall follow your instructions to the letter,” Darcy said with a laugh. “Would it disturb your uncle if I sent one of my maids from Darcy House to take Miss Taylor’s place for a while, that she might properly recover?”
“You only want her present to protect yourself from Anne and me.”
Everyone joined his laughter. “In my position, would you not do the same?”
“We will help you.”
Everyone nodded, and Anne added one last thought. “Oh, and Cousin… try not to stuff it up this time.”