Chapter 3
“Miss Smith!”
“Mr Jones!”
That was how our ninth encounter began, though me kissing the backs of both hands was new, and might well be the basis of a new tradition.
As Elizabeth and I had agreed before we were rained out, I gave Bingley enough history to know part of our story. I obviously did not mention that I bought my grandfather’s pistols from her when she was not yet fifteen, but said we knew each other from London, and the names were a private joke.
At the time, I was not certain which made my friend’s brain hurt the most—the fact that I was capable of a private joke, that I was friends with a marriageable lady, or that I could not possibly object to what he did with his latest angel.
For the moment, I would do nothing, but when Miss Bennet became my sister, I suspected we would have words about my expectations. I was not Mr Bennet.
Elizabeth greeted us in the corridor along with her elder sister.
“Jane. Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy would like a quiet word with my father. It might be best if nobody in the drawing room became aware of his presence prematurely. We will greet the family properly in a bit.”
Miss Bennet and Bingley looked astonished and confused, but my friend was up for anything, so he gave a big smile and gallantly offered his arm to lead Miss Bennet into the lion’s den.
It took but a moment for my ears to suggest a good reason she was still Miss Bennet at her age.
The noise was deafening. I did not say anything, nor did Elizabeth aside from her grimace.
I squeezed her hand. “Courage, my love. You have yet to experience the dubious pleasure of meeting my aunt, Lady Catherine. Your mother will not frighten me, and she will soon be far away.”
“Too true, but I suspect you are gaining an appreciation for why I wish to marry sooner rather than later, and why I refrain from asking you to publicly court me.”
“You know that I would not allow her to stop me if you wanted more time. I would happily court you here, or simply have you visit your relatives in London, or even my aunt and sister. All you need do is say the word.”
“I do know, and I appreciate it, but of some pleasures, a little goes a long way. I know my heart, and you know yours. We have been inadvertently courting for the past two years. It is time to get on with it; delaying the inevitable profits nobody.”
“Let us see how indolent your father is. From what you said over the years, he should not be terribly difficult, and if he is… well… I am not to be trifled with any more than you are.”
“Let us not count our chickens just yet.”
We might have carried on, but she was knocking on the door, and it was time to beard the lion.
~~~
We entered a fairly well-stocked library that was no match for Pemberley but nothing to sneer at either.
I remembered discussing literature, history, and philosophy for some time the year Elizabeth turned eighteen, and I assumed I was seeing the source of her education.
I tried to cling to the appreciation of the man for letting his daughter learn, or even teaching her, as I would need that to keep my anger at his lack of care for his offspring in check.
“Papa, may I present Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mr Darcy, my father, Mr Bennet.”
The man looked up with a bit of a scowl from a book he had been reading by the fire. From earlier discussions, I concluded his location and occupation were typical, since indolence seemed his chief defining characteristic.
After looking me up and down with curiosity, suspicion, or both, he gave the standard response, “Mr Darcy, welcome to Longbourn.”
“The pleasure is mine, sir,” I replied politely, though whether the encounter was to be a pleasure or not remained to be seen.
Mr Bennet looked carefully at his daughter, and I speculated he read something of our purpose in her demeanour.
He gestured to another chair. “Have a seat. Would you care for tea, or something stronger?”
“Tea would be appreciated.”
Elizabeth said, “I already asked Hill, so it shall be here soon.”
With that, we sat down, with Elizabeth in a chair between ours like a referee.
I wanted to take her hand but dared not.
I gave a bit of my background for about five minutes while waiting for the tea.
We were both anxious and reluctant to get down to business but allowed the soothing ritual to drag out the event.
When the tea arrived, Elizabeth served, and we all partook for a few minutes. It seemed mildly curious that the man did not try to send Elizabeth away, but I have no idea if that was typical or not.
Eventually, it came time to get down to business.
“Something tells me you came here with a purpose.”
“I have sir. I seek your consent and blessing to wed Miss Elizabeth.”
We had discussed my approach, and Elizabeth suggested I just get on with it, since any attempt to soften the blow would just make her father look for ways to make sport of us.
The man looked stunned, so I continued. Loath as I was to admit it, her father had to know at least some of our history to explain the precipitous engagement.
“I have known your daughter a few years through a distant connection with your brother-in-law, Mr Gardiner,” I said blithely.
It was even somewhat true in a way, since whoever set up our initial anonymous meeting probably knew her uncle vaguely, and Elizabeth definitely stayed with her uncle whenever we met.
“We have come to know each other quite well, and I have been in love with her for some time. It is not the work of a moment. This morning, I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”
Elizabeth had told me she went to assemblies, musical events, and such when in London, so allowing him to assume we met at one was an omission I could live with.
The implication that I knew Mr Gardiner could not hurt either, though I hoped he did not ask for any details of that entirely fictitious acquaintance.
His face was becoming stonier and stonier as I went on, and I at least appreciated his position. If someone came to me with the same cock and bull story, I would be sceptical too—very sceptical!
Elizabeth said, “You need not be concerned we ever did anything improper, Papa, but I have known him for some time, though we were each unsure of our mutual love and never discussed it until he declared himself—as is proper. I want this very strongly.”
He still stared, which made Elizabeth nervously continue.
“He can care for me, and he also makes any worries about the entail moot, since he can take care of Mama and any unwed sisters in case of your demise. Think what a load that will be from Mama’s mind, and how quiet the house will be once I am well settled and she need never fear the hedgerows again. ”
He looked back and forth between us suspiciously and finally asked, “I would know more about these supposed earlier meetings. Why have I never heard of you?”
“The same reason you never knew about the other men I met in London. I am not exactly a misanthrope, and everyone knows London is better territory for husband hunting. You have never been the least bit interested about what I got up to there, and to be honest, though I had high hopes for Mr Darcy for the last few years, I thought them to be just that: hopes. I never imagined he might fall in love with little old me, nor act on it. I am ecstatic that he did. You well know none of your daughters have aught to recommend us aside from our charms, and I count myself the luckiest woman in the world to learn he found what he seeks in me.”
Her father continued looking very sceptical, and I hoped he was not due for a belated bout of parental assertiveness.
“Why the hurry,” he asked. “Is there a… pressing reason?”
“I will not dignify that with an answer,” Elizabeth snapped.
I could not blame her but did not want to wind the old man up, since it was the exact same question I would ask in his position, and I suspect I would have asked it sooner and more emphatically.
Even though I could not really respect the man overall, I had to give him his due in that particular topic.
I continued in what I hoped was a reasonable tone. “The only pressing reason is that we have already accomplished that which a courtship is designed for. We know each other better than most couples on their wedding day, and we would like to get on with our lives.”
“There must be more to it than that,” he said suspiciously.
Elizabeth had her temper under control, which I assumed was a skill she had to practice regularly.
“The pressing reason is that I do not want to endure the torture of a courtship at Longbourn,” she half-snarled.
“You saw how long Mama blathered on about Mr Bingley dancing twice with Jane. You yourself commented on it. She has been castigating Mary and me as the most unworthy of her children for years, and she has called me a ‘spinster in the making’ more than once. How exactly do you expect her to react if I start receiving calls from a man Mr Darcy’s station?
If you wonder, peek in the drawing room right now and see what poor Mr Bingley is suffering. I refuse to endure it!”
“You will endure what I decide you will, Elizabeth. Your majority is still six months away unless you plan to do something mad like elope to Scotland.”
Elizabeth looked like she would break a tooth if she were not careful, and I tried to calm things without giving ground.
“I would vastly prefer not to do that,” I replied, not entirely willing to close the door on the idea entirely. I wanted the man to know I was serious and stubborn (like our Miss Smith).
“Do you expect me to just trust your word, Elizabeth?”
“I do. I have never lied to you.”
“Ah… so you do not consider lies of omission to be such?”
Elizabeth looked angry, and started to get mulish, but then seemed to realise he was trying to goad her into saying something he could react to in some way that might make him feel clever or powerful.
“What omissions would those be?” she finally asked with an icy voice.