Chapter 10 A Fragile Peace
CHAPTER TEN
A FRAGILE PEACE
“Why should I believe you?” Mr Bennet asked, nearly scoffing as Darcy concluded his account a short time later in his study.
“I have sent for my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, who can confirm every particular,” Darcy replied, his tone measured even as his composure was strained.
He was unaccustomed to having his word doubted and could scarcely believe Elizabeth’s father received his report with such indifference.
Elizabeth reached over to give his arm a light, reassuring squeeze, a gesture that did not escape her father’s notice.
“Still, I do not ask you to take my word alone. Colonel Fitzwilliam will bring the receipts for the debts I purchased from Wickham. I redeemed them more than once—first in Lambton, then later at Cambridge—always on the condition he receive no further credit from any of the shops where he had run up debts. After my father’s death, I refused to continue that pattern.
Instead, I gave him the thousand pounds bequeathed to him in my father’s will, together with three thousand in place of the living he declined.
He claimed he had no interest in taking holy orders, and since he had not completed his studies at Cambridge, I doubted he could. He said he would study the law.”
“Now he is in the militia?” Mr Bennet asked, at last setting aside his dislike and listening in earnest.
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “He wrote to me a little over a year ago, declaring the four thousand pounds insufficient and demanding the living he had renounced. He was displeased when I refused—he remained unqualified for the post—and would not give him additional funds, which he would doubtlessly squander. That ended our acquaintance, until he thrust himself upon my notice again this past summer. I will not weary you with the particulars, but suffice it to say that whatever regard I once had for him is extinguished beyond recall.”
“You call him a libertine and a rake; does that sum it up?” Mr Bennet asked.
“The man thinks only of himself and pursues his pleasures wherever he may,” Darcy replied.
“He incurs debts with no intention of honouring them and takes whatever is offered without a thought. That includes trifling with ladies—particularly the young and unsuspecting, who cannot discern they are merely being used.”
Mr Bennet nodded. “I shall warn my daughters to be cautious,” he said after a moment of consideration.
“Papa, Mr Darcy has already spoken to me of Mr Wickham, and Mary overheard us on the way home,” Elizabeth assured him.
“We shall be on our guard and will also warn our sisters to be cautious of that man. Still, I would encourage you to speak with them as well—especially Lydia—for you have far greater authority in their lives than I do. They will listen to you more readily than to me.”
“I cannot say what my friend observed of the exchange between us, but I believe your younger daughters noticed how he nearly fled at the sight of me,” Darcy interjected.
“They will likely draw their own conclusions, and Miss Elizabeth may guide them further. Still, your caution will carry the greater weight. Indeed, all the militia officers should be regarded with care, and it would be well for your younger daughters to understand that such men seldom prove steady husbands.”
Mr Bennet gave a short, humourless laugh. “A poor prospect indeed. A uniform may dazzle their eyes for a time, but it neither puts food upon the table nor keeps a roof overhead.” He paused, his gaze narrowing on Darcy, albeit with perhaps a fraction more respect than before.
His voice gentled as he continued as if he wished to offer counsel to the man who seemed determined to win his daughter, despite Mr Bennet’s own reservations about the match.
He was concerned for Elizabeth and feared that Darcy might yet discover she was not his equal—at least not in the way society measured such things—no matter what he professed at present.
Mr Darcy’s feelings appeared to have shifted with unsettling speed, and Mr Bennet would not see his daughter trapped in an unequal or unhappy marriage.
“Still, wealth is no assurance of happiness. A prudent lady must weigh many considerations—although some gentlemen seem convinced their fortune renders all others irrelevant.”
Elizabeth nearly scoffed at her father’s mistaken surmise, but Darcy signalled her to let him answer.
Meeting Mr Bennet’s gaze with steady composure, Darcy spoke in a voice that was calm yet edged with resolve.
“Indeed, sir. Fortune alone is a poor foundation for marriage. Respect, affection, and honour are of far greater worth—and without them, even the grandest estate must prove a desolate home. Fortunately, when I marry Elizabeth, we shall have all of those between us.”
Mr Bennet raised a mocking brow as he glared at the man in front of him. “If you remain here long enough to make your proposals. I appreciate your efforts to preserve my daughters’ reputations, but I cannot see how the matter truly touches you.”
“It touches me because I intend to marry Elizabeth very soon, and when I do, her family will be mine,” Darcy said with quiet resolve. “We have spoken of this before, sir. Elizabeth may not yet have made her decision, but I know my own. I will not leave her—unless she tells me that is her wish.”
Both men rose, instinctively stepping nearer as though neither would yield ground to the other. Their voices remained quiet, but it was clear that the tension between them was building.
“We shall see,” Mr Bennet replied coolly. “If you are still in Meryton at Christmas, I may consider giving my blessing to this courtship. Elizabeth will be of age in May; if you remain here that long, you might marry her then.”
“I cannot linger in Hertfordshire so long,” Darcy answered, his voice firm.
“I must go to London for a few days to bring my sister if I am to spend Christmas here, for I would not leave her alone. At Easter I am obliged to visit my aunt in Kent, after which I must return to Pemberley for the spring planting. If Elizabeth wishes it, I will remain—but I doubt she will desire to wait so long once her mind is made up.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth interjected quickly, stepping forwards to place herself between the two men.
“You are being nonsensical. Do you truly expect Mr Darcy to remain in Hertfordshire for six months or more when he has an estate of his own to manage? You are being wholly unreasonable. Why are you so set against him?”
“He is toying with you, Elizabeth. Can you not see it?” Mr Bennet asked, his expression lined with concern.
Elizabeth’s face softened as she looked at her father, yet she did not yield.
“He is not,” she said firmly, stepping back to Darcy’s side and resting her hand upon his arm.
“I may not always have liked him as well as I do now, but I do like him very much. He is a good man, Papa—better than you are willing to believe.”
Mr Bennet’s eyes softened at the earnestness in his daughter’s voice, his tone cautious.
“You are not mercenary, Elizabeth, so I know you believe what you say. But he has yet to prove himself to me. If you announce an engagement and he deserts you, your reputation will be ruined, and so will your sisters’.
He is wealthy and can act as he pleases without danger to himself. ”
Elizabeth lifted her chin, her voice quieter but no less steady. “Papa, have you not always trusted my judgement before?”
Mr Bennet nodded slowly, his eyes softening again as they lingered on her.
“Then trust me now,” she said, her tone gentling. “Trust that I have considered the matter carefully, that I know Mr Darcy better than you think. Remember, he has not yet asked for my hand, only for permission to court me. I may still refuse him, if I discover we will not suit.”
She spoke the last with such a playful tilt of her lips that the tension in the room eased a little.
Mr Bennet gave a reluctant chuckle, and even Darcy allowed the ghost of a smile.
For a moment, the two men—so different in temperament—were united by their affection for the spirited young woman who stood between them.
Mr Collins had been vexed to find the master of the house unwilling to receive him immediately upon his arrival, and his discontent only grew when, upon entering the drawing room, he discovered neither his cousin Elizabeth nor Mr Darcy present.
Their absence, together with the indifference his cousins showed to his conversation—Mary included—seemed to him a deliberate slight.
He seated himself stiffly, his countenance dark.
“No one asks what kept me so long?” he muttered at last. When no one replied, his displeasure deepened, and he began contemplating ways to teach his cousins proper behaviour towards a clergyman.
Mrs Bennet, unsettled by Mary’s silence towards her cousin, dared not reproach her for inattentiveness.
Her husband had made it plain that any further interference in her daughters’ matches would invite consequences she was unwilling to risk.
She therefore busied herself with observing Jane and Mr Bingley, whose cheerful conversation rendered them quite oblivious to the rest of the room.
“Oh, how charming you two look together!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight.