Chapter XVI #2
“She does,” agreed Mr. Gardiner.
“That is curious, but I wonder what it has to do with the situation with Lydia.” Then Mr. Bennet’s eyes widened. “Did not Mr. Darcy have a prior acquaintance with Mr. Wickham? I recall Wickham speaking of it to excess.”
“Yes, Papa,” said Elizabeth.
“That is all interesting, but Mr. Darcy can have nothing to do with this business with Lydia.” There was in Mr. Bennet’s eyes a certain measure of anger that Elizabeth had seen but rarely. “Do you mean to say that you spoke to Mr. Darcy, of all men, about our troubles?”
“Before you judge,” said Uncle Gardiner, “You should listen to what Lizzy has to say.”
A protest hovered on the tip of his tongue, but Mr. Bennet held it in and turned an expectant look on Elizabeth, one she took as sufficient inducement to speak.
“Papa, Mr. Darcy is not so unconnected with this business as you might suppose. He has resolved to call Mr. Wickham to account; he claims he should have done it before. The most critical point, however, is that Mr. Darcy proposed to me in Derbyshire. I accepted.”
“Accepted?” blurted Mr. Bennet. “Lizzy, do I hear you correctly? After refusing Mr. Collins, a man none of us respected, you turned to Mr. Darcy, of all men, and accepted his proposal?”
“Yes, Papa, I have.”
“And you should reconsider your opinion of Mr. Darcy, Bennet,” said Mr. Gardiner. “The man was nothing but civil and gracious to Madeleine and me when we were in Derbyshire.”
Mr. Bennet, however, shook his head, appearing disquieted.
“Lizzy, let me advise you against it. Have not you always despised the man? Did he not insult you at your first meeting? Better to live a life of penury than with a man you cannot respect, even if he can give you possessions and position aplenty.”
“Papa,” chided Elizabeth, “do you suppose that I of all women would accept Mr. Darcy for his wealth?”
“Did you not?” asked Mr. Bennet. “Or did you sell yourself to him to obtain his assistance in this business with Lydia? What am I to think of a man who throws himself into another family’s disgrace under such circumstances?”
It was not an unreasonable assumption, though the accusation stung.
Elizabeth knew her father was not speaking from pride or hurt, but from genuine concern that she, the most beloved of all his children, might end in an intolerable situation with the man he imagined Mr. Darcy to be.
When he saw her expression, her father softened a little and took her hand.
“Elizabeth, I do not speak this way to offend or accuse you, but because of my concern. I would not have you unhappy in life, my dear.”
“It appears I have gone about this in a most backwards manner, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Please listen, and I shall tell you what happened in Derbyshire—then you will understand.”
Dubious though he was, Mr. Bennet agreed, and Elizabeth spun her tale, though maintaining brevity because of the hour.
While she spoke, Mr. Gardiner’s housekeeper and a maid entered with their dinner, but Elizabeth paid no attention to it until she finished speaking.
Mr. Bennet listened, intent on her tale, and the longer she spoke, the more his opposition softened, though his chagrin appeared to grow in equal measure.
When she finished, Elizabeth focused on her dinner while her father sat back and considered everything she had said.
“That is most curious, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, wonder coloring his voice. “When you departed, you were so set against Mr. Darcy—to see you so altered is a shock, even given what you have experienced.”
“I was not set against him, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “Not when I departed for Derbyshire. I simply had not spoken of him. After my return from Kent, I had many weeks to reconsider my opinion.”
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “That confounds me more than anything else—Mr. Darcy proposed to you in Kent while you stayed with my foolish cousin. It appears we have all misjudged the man.”
“No one more than me,” replied Elizabeth, feeling the weight of her error in judgment.
Though he nodded, Mr. Bennet turned to Mr. Gardiner, who had remained silent while she spoke. “Do you have anything to add? You must remember Lizzy’s opinion from Christmas.”
“I do,” replied Mr. Gardiner. “If you recall, Madeleine and I never made Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance—until we came across him in Derbyshire, we never knew him.
“What I can tell you,” continued her uncle, “is that Madeleine and I both noticed Mr. Darcy’s affection for Lizzy within moments of making his acquaintance. It was clear in the way he greeted her, sought her out, and deferred to her. He presents the very picture of a man in love.”
Mr. Bennet snorted, though he did not protest. “Then he has changed a great deal—the Mr. Darcy I remember from November was proud and aloof. He paid no attention . . .”
Eyes suddenly wide, Mr. Bennet stared at Elizabeth with astonishment. “As I recall, the dance at Netherfield.” Then he burst into chuckles and added: “Miss Bingley appeared fit to be tied when he danced with you and not her.”
“With Miss Bingley’s opinion,” replied Elizabeth, “I am well acquainted.”
“Yes, I dare say you are.”
Mr. Bennet paused and considered this epiphany, then he nodded. “There was evidence from the autumn that he found you agreeable, though I did not see it until now. At the ball, he watched you a great deal, though I recall you suggested he was attempting to find fault.”
“That is absurd!” exclaimed Mr. Gardiner. “What man looks to excess at a woman he finds unappealing?”
“It appears we have all been blind,” said Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth did not respond, for she felt the justice in Mr. Gardiner’s point.
“Mr. Darcy will come tomorrow morning?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“Yes, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “He did not say what time, but I suspect it will be early.”
“Well before visiting hours, or I shall eat my hat,” said Mr. Gardiner.
Mr. Bennet nodded. “I shall enjoy seeing the lovesick swain he has become.”
“Oh, Papa,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head with exasperation. “Do not treat him like Mr. Collins—Mr. Darcy will not misunderstand comments made at his expense, and the regard he professes is quite real.”
“No, I cannot suppose he will,” replied Mr. Bennet. “Yet I am curious all the same.”
With that, Elizabeth had to be content. She and her uncle focused on their dinners, then they sought their beds. Tomorrow, Elizabeth thought as she lay between crisp sheets, would be a long day—far longer than any of them wished.
THE FIRST THING DARCY did when he stepped into his house was to inquire after his cousin’s whereabouts. Since his footman had ridden on ahead, his staff had at least a little forewarning of his arrival, for which he was grateful, as his housekeeper had arranged a hot meal for him.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam has been staying here for the last two weeks,” advised Monroe, his butler. “He is not present at the moment, but we expect him to return before long.”
“Excellent,” said Darcy, thanking him. “When he returns, please inform him that I wish to speak with him at once. I shall take dinner in my study.”
“Very good, Mr. Darcy.”
With no valet to care for his needs, Darcy untied his cravat and draped it over the back of his chair, seating himself behind his desk to write some letters.
The first was to his man of business, asking him to undertake the delicate task of finding someone who might marry Miss Lydia if a suitable sum were settled on her.
The second letter was to his banker requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience.
Darcy contemplated a third, a means of dispensing with the distasteful obligation to inform Lady Catherine of the impossibility of her designs.
What stopped him was the knowledge that a letter would provoke Lady Catherine to erupt in rage, journey to London to confront him or—and the notion made Darcy’s blood run cold—journey to Hertfordshire to confront Miss Elizabeth, not knowing she was in London.
No, Darcy decided, putting his pen and ink away.
There was no choice but to inform Lady Catherine in person and warn her against any volcanic displays.
Lady Catherine would rant and rage, and she would almost certainly confront her brother and demand he enforce Darcy’s compliance, but if he spoke to her himself, he did not think she would then accost Miss Elizabeth.
For that moment, Darcy put Lady Catherine from his mind, as a maid entered with a tray.
By the time Fitzwilliam arrived, Darcy had finished his dinner and had settled before the cold hearth, a glass of brandy in his hand.
He was not thinking of anything in particular, but the notion of Wickham facing the consequences of his crimes had occurred to him.
It was not at all unpleasant to consider.