Chapter 10
Library
Longbourn
Thomas Bennet poked the fire with more vigor than usual, and was rewarded by a shower of sparks along with a few enthusiastic spurts of flame. It was a chilly day, and the library was a bit cool for his taste.
He pulled his wingbacked chair a little closer to the fire, sat down, took a sip of brandy from a waiting glass, and then, at long last, picked up the two letters which had been delivered to him this morning.
One was a bill, and he threw it aside. The other was more important, and he paused a moment to calm himself before breaking the wax and spreading the missive open.
14th December 1811
Hunsford,
Mr. Bennet,
I am most grieved to hear that my beloved Cousin Elizabeth is ill. I will remember her in my prayers and look forward to the day when I can make her my wife.
I spoke of the matter to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and she informed me that while occasional illness is permissible, it had best not be a regular occurrence.
When Elizabeth is mistress of my parsonage, she will be expected to manage meals and servants, along with serving as my helpmeet in caring for the local tenantry.
It is also important that she be available on a regular basis to visit Lady Catherine.
As I mentioned when I had the honor of staying at Longbourn, one of the greatest blessings of my situation is that I am permitted to spend time with the most noble lady who oversees Rosings, and she has promised to spend considerable time with Elizabeth to help her learn her duties.
Speaking of Lady Catherine, I must finish this letter, as I have been invited to dinner and must dress for that most honored occasion.
Sincerely,
William Collins
Bennet tossed the letter aside onto the table beside his chair and leaned back, steepled his fingers together and stared into the fire.
Collins was a fool, easily fobbed off with the simplest obfuscation of the truth.
Nothing in his words expressed the slightest doubt in Bennet’s story of Elizabeth’s illness, and his impatience was, at least for the time being, allayed.
Bennet’s position remained tenuous, but he had bought himself some time in which to search for Elizabeth.
His chances of finding her seemed slim, but should he do so, there could be but one outcome.
She would marry Mr. Collins, and he would force her to do so by whatever means necessary.
If she were at all dutiful, she would recognize the necessity for the union herself.
Since Mrs. Bennet had not had the sense to bear a son, she and her daughters were left in a terribly precarious position.
The entail would yank their own home from beneath them when Mr. Bennet died, and Elizabeth’s marriage to Mr. Collins would provide for not only herself, but her mother and sisters as well.
Her stubborn attitude infuriated Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth obstinately clung to a fantastical notion of romance and love, gleaned straight from novels, and used her childish ideas to justify to herself her defiance of her own father.
Her imagination had run away with her, and instead of the natural obedience of a child to her parents, she obeyed her own wishes even to the point of risking scandal to the whole family!
She thought entirely too much of her own cleverness, did Miss Lizzy, letting selfishness rule her and insisting on having her own way with no regard to the consequences for herself or her family.
None of this would have happened if her mother had fulfilled her own responsibilities, but Mrs. Bennet had never exercised any control over her daughters.
Instead, she let each of them do whatever they wished.
Jane, against all odds, had turned out well enough, quiet and meek and sensible and obedient.
Even Mary, though dull and stupid, showed a natural piety and duty towards her parents.
The youngest two were scarcely worth mentioning, silly, frivolous young fools without a thought in their heads between the two of them, petted and spoiled and pampered by their lightminded mother.
Elizabeth, however, should have been reined in, chastened and taught sobriety rather than being permitted to read whatever she wanted and form her own foolish ideas.
She believed herself so intelligent, but in truth she was merely a rebellious chit.
It would serve her right if he quit searching now and left her to meet her fate.
She thought the gutters of London were preferable to a comfortable marriage and a home of her own?
Very well, let her learn the truth in the bowels of London and die there.
Perhaps that would take the sparkle out of her naive optimism.
The letter to Jane notwithstanding, Elizabeth would not last long alone and adrift in the seedy underbelly of the great city.
The rote memorization of facts acquired from a book would by no means prepare a gently bred and largely talentless young lady to make her own way in a harsh urban environment.
It would indeed serve her right, and Mr. Bennet was seriously considering abandoning her to her fate.
Of course, that would still leave the problem of the inheritance.
Mr. Collins was in daily expectation of hearing that his bride was prepared to meet him, and to have to explain now that Elizabeth was not in truth suffering from scarlet fever with the Gardiners but had run away would be an insurmountable embarrassment.
Bennet would appear to be dishonest, and worse, stupid.
Elizabeth’s disloyalty and foolishness would bring scandal and shame on the family and make Mr. Bennet a laughingstock.
No, as much as he might wish to wash his hands of Elizabeth and call off the search, it was better to keep looking and hope to find her within a few weeks.
As soon as he knew where his rebellious daughter was, Bennet would seize her at once and drag her back to her home.
There she would marry Collins, and if she refused, she would remain locked in the attic until she was ready to obey her father and do what was best for her family.
***
En Route to Mrs. Gregson’s House
Friday, 20th December 1811
The route between Darcy House and Half Moon Street had become so familiar that Darcy rather thought his horses could traverse it without a coachman.
The carriage was, once again, rolling along this familiar route, bearing Darcy and his sister to visit their great-aunt, as well as her charming young friend.
He felt it to be his duty. After all, Aunt Gregson was old enough that she could live respectably without a companion, and to acquire a permanent houseguest now could upset the rhythm of her life.
As for Miss Bennet, the circumstances surrounding her arrival at Mrs. Gregson's house were sufficient to disturb the most steadfast of ladies.
Darcy was keenly aware that it was his responsibility, as the one who had introduced an addition to Aunt Gregson's household, to ensure both women were managing happily in their new situation.
Of course, he knew perfectly well that Miss Bennet and Great-aunt Gregson were getting along famously.
Both were intelligent, kindly, well read and spirited women.
If anything, Miss Bennet's youthful vitality had brightened the sparkle in the spry old lady's eye.
Neither one needed Darcy's oversight, as they had already settled together into a fine routine.
His visits were, he thought, welcome, but it was obvious that they were entirely superfluous.
The excuse of checking on the ladies would suffice, however, to disguise how impossible it was for him to keep his distance from Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.
“Brother?”
He looked at Georgiana, who had come along today for the first time in a week. He would have to remember to be careful to call Elizabeth by her false name.
“Yes, Georgiana?”
She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling in the way he had not seen since before Wickham had tried to entice her into a runaway marriage. His heart warmed to see that mischievous glint.
“Are you in love with Miss Wantage, Fitzwilliam?” she asked.
His eyes flared wide, and he could not decide whether to breathe in or out, with the result that he coughed three or four times before he recovered enough to gasp, “What?”
Now the mischief was gone, replaced by a wooden look, and his heart sank.
“I am sorry,” she said, turning to look out the window of the carriage. “I was … I am sorry.”
He stared at her, and his heart broke. He could not lie to his sister; he could not.
Nor could he lie to himself.
“Yes, I am in love with her,” he said softly, and she turned toward him, her eyes wide.
“Oh Brother, I am so glad!” she cried out. “She is wonderful!”
“She is, but … but there are complications.”
Georgiana frowned. “What complications?”
He sighed deeply and reached out one long arm to take her hand in his own. “She is not actually Miss Wantage. Her real name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Georgiana’s mouth dropped open for a second, and then she demanded, “Elizabeth Bennet? From Hertfordshire?”
“Yes! But how did you know that?”
“You mentioned her more than once in your letters, Fitzwilliam. You described her as handsome and clever and charming.”
“She is all those things.”
“She is, but why is she … I do not understand!”
He explained the entire matter to her, of the entail on Longbourn, on the arrival of Mr. Collins, the heir to the estate, who also served as rector under Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Of Miss Bennet’s flight from Longbourn, and the hand of Providence which allowed Darcy to bring the lady to Mrs. Gregson’s house instead of allowing her to disappear into the dangerous bowels of London.
When he finished speaking, they were only a few minutes from Mrs. Gregson’s house, and Georgiana’s expression was grave.
“What will you do, Brother?” she asked softly.
“I do not know,” Darcy confessed with a sigh. “I am in love with her and wish for her to become my wife, but her father is determined that she marry Mr. Collins, and she will not reach her majority until May.”
“But surely you are far better a husband than a parson, even one who is heir to an estate!”
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, “but there are two problems. One is that Mr. Bennet is an eccentric, and I do not trust him to behave appropriately. He is determined that Miss Bennet wed her cousin. The other is that … Georgiana, Miss Bennet may not wish to become my wife.”
If possible, Georgiana looked even more shocked than earlier. “Not wish to marry you? Whatever are you speaking of? You are the most wonderful gentleman in all of England!”
He laughed cheerfully at this and said, “Oh, my dear sister, I appreciate your kind words, but I must confess that I was not particularly courteous when I first met the charming inhabitants of Meryton. I was, regrettably, overly proud.”
“Surely not!”
“I was,” Darcy said. “I have apologized, and I believe Miss Bennet likes me well enough, but not enough for us to marry. Moreover, I would not wish to press her, you know. Her life is sufficiently difficult without another unwanted suitor.”
Georgiana frowned at the word unwanted, but then, just as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of their great-aunt’s house, she said, “I do understand what you are saying. Is there any way I can help?”
“Just be yourself, my dear,” he said as the carriage door opened. “Miss Bennet needs a friend.”
“I understand,” Georgiana said solemnly.