Chapter 14 Ultimatums #2
Elizabeth stared, hard and unyielding.
“I have thought of all of those. What are you to do? You can lock me in the cellar until the wedding, and nobody will say a word. You can beat me as much as you choose, so long as you do not kill me, but that is tough to do without being detected by the groom. I suspect he would strongly object and march away himself. Imagine him bringing suit against you for delivering damaged goods. You can throw me out to starve in the hedgerows, but since I have tried to do that twice on my own, I do not see it as much of a threat. You can take away my dowry, but since it is a pittance and not due for thirty years anyway, I am not going to hold my breath waiting. What else do you have?”
By then, Elizabeth was once again standing in front of her father’s desk, her blood boiling, practically spitting in his face, while her father tried to get a word in edgewise.
Finally, he sat down, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“You forgot one thing, Elizabeth. I can threaten something you think is important.”
“I cannot think of anything I find that important.”
Bennet looked confusedly at the spectacles in his hand and cleaned them with his handkerchief to buy time.
“Daughter, you have had your say. You have had your say, and had your say, and had your say and your say. You said it with your words. You said it with your feet. You said it with your letter. You said it with your derision. You need not worry you were too subtle. I got the message. However—”
And with that, he put his spectacles back on with a snap and leaned forward menacingly.
“You do not want to take any responsibility for what happened. There is no need to repeat your objections. Like your youngest sister and in fact like yourself, would you at least admit that I am not stupid. You may or may not have thought you were flirting with that gentleman, but I would wager that eight men out of ten who saw would interpret it that way.”
Elizabeth gasped, and yelled, “FLIRTING! You are mad! Was I, in some fashion, too subtle in voicing my disapprobation?”
Bennet slammed the desk with the flat of his hand, his blood up to match his daughter.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks. The bard had it right—or perhaps you prefer Congreve’s Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Darcy almost certainly thinks you were flirting with him, and I am not at all uncertain myself.”
“My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! Still, your ignorant assessment of my actions does not change the material fact that I can and will refuse to say the vows.”
Bennet sighed resignedly.
“Well then, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, let me tell you how it will be. I will not live forever, so someone will be married from Longbourn within the month. If you do not marry Darcy, I will of course throw you out of the house without a farthing, which is nowhere near as diverting as you seem to think. Your aunt and uncle will not help you, since you will be simply reaping what you have sown. Then I will engage one of my more compliant daughters—which at this point, amounts to any of them—to Collins! I think Jane might make an adequate Mrs Collins!”
Elizabeth gasped in horror. “You would not!”
“Why not? Right or wrong you believed I would do the same to you, and if you think I am bluffing about getting my daughters married and settled, the past fortnight should have taught you differently. What makes you think Jane is safe? Your own words in this letter suggest it as an acceptable solution.”
Elizabeth stared in horror. She might be able to handle Mr Collins and make a marginally adequate husband of him. Charlotte Lucas certainly could. She could not think of anyone else, and Jane was singularly unable. She simply did not have the strength of character.
No matter how much Elizabeth might despise her sister right at that moment, she was not quite willing to consign Jane to an even worse fate than the one she was trying to escape.
Mary was no better, as she was actively frightened of the man.
Kitty and Lydia were far too young and silly to have their lives ruined.
“And if I wed Mr Darcy?”
“As Mrs Darcy, you would have some ability to help your sisters. Your marriage contract, as stingy as it is, does have provision for your mother and sisters. They would not live well after my demise, but they need not scrape by on your mother’s portion.
If nothing else, Mr Darcy’s pride and sense of familial obligation demand they be reasonably settled.
Also, being the sisters of Mrs Darcy will give your sisters some boosted social status, which might help them find husbands.
Do not worry, I will not ask you to actively help, nor will I let your mother browbeat you. The name will suffice.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “So, you want my word that I will marry Mr Darcy.”
“Not just that. I would also have your word that you will try to make a good marriage. I can assure you from experience that an unhappy marriage is not something to aspire to. You and Darcy are more alike than you think. For certain, he is a prideful, arrogant, pig-headed man who thinks much too highly of himself and looks down on everyone not of his circle—but I have seen worse men tamed by the right wife, and you have your own stubborn streak. You can do it if you put in some effort.”
“And why, exactly, would I put in the effort. Why not have a marriage of convenience and mutual antagonism like yours, where he goes his way and I go mine except for the occasional meeting necessary to birth an heir.”
Bennet stared at the floor.
“For your own benefit, Elizabeth. I realise we are not at all close now, and likely never will be again. I realise I may not have been a particularly good father, but I would prefer to see my mistakes end with this generation. You can do better, but only if you let go of your own pride and moderate your stubborn streak. I honestly think if you scratch the surface of your Mr Darcy, you will find oak.”
Elizabeth thought about it for several minutes. “I think I truly hate you, Father.”
He nodded philosophically. “If that is the price of protecting my family, I will bear it. I still hold out hope that if you will just relent a little bit, you could have a good marriage—perhaps even a great one. I am afraid though, that the task will be up to you, and you alone—at least in the beginning. Mr Darcy is unlikely to be the first to bend.”
“So, you expect me to not only marry him, but then swallow my pride and—”
“Yes, swallow your pride and do what it takes to make yourself happy. Darkest before the dawn, and that sort of thing.”
Elizabeth thought for several more minutes.
“I suppose you win! As you predicted, I will not send my sisters to suffer in my place. I will offer one bargain that is non-negotiable. I will stand up with the man, and I will say the vows. Before that, if you want to give me a trousseau, you are to let Aunt Gardiner buy it with no interference from my mother, not even an opinion nor even her presence. I will make my wedding dress myself from my ballgown. I have my own ideas about my appearance in this debacle. And then, after—”
Bennet looked at her carefully, and asked pensively, “After?”
Elizabeth blew out a big breath. “After that, I will be a dutiful, polite, and obedient wife, bending on every issue and following every directive to the letter. However, I will give him six months. If during that time he says or does something genuinely kind, just one thing, verbally or in writing, then I will do my best to get over my prejudice and make a contented life, or at least not miserable. If, after six months, I have not heard a single kind word, I will do whatever I must to make my life bearable.”
“That does not sound like much of a challenge. I accept your bargain.”
With that, Elizabeth left the room without another word, took the sewing basket, and went to her own room, to begin the improvements for her ball gown, soon to be wedding dress.