Chapter 11
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth and Mrs Cooper turned at the same moment towards the male voice that had addressed them, with a surprise equal to that which marked their countenances.
Who could know Elizabeth in Derby? The question did not long remain.
It was Mr Darcy.
In an instant, all was clear to Elizabeth. Derby lay in Derbyshire, where stood the delightful estate of Pemberley, Mr Darcy’s own.
“Good heavens,” thought Elizabeth, “how came I not to remember?”
Yet even had she remembered, such a meeting was so little to be expected that her astonishment, rather than diminishing, increased.
Mr Darcy removed his hat and bowed, in a manner at once assured and elegant; she remembered it with unexpected pleasure.
“Mr Darcy!” said Elizabeth at last, and curtsied, making no attempt to conceal her shock. She then turned to Mrs Cooper. “Allow me to introduce Mr Darcy.”
And that the surprise might be complete, Mrs Cooper smiled. “I know Mr Darcy. I lived until I was twenty in Lambton, which lies but a few miles from your home, Pemberley.”
“Indeed, Pemberley is but a few miles from Lambton, and we often go there. Pray excuse me, I do not recall our acquaintance,” he replied.
Elizabeth wondered whether he were discomposed or merely embarrassed by the meeting, since he appeared as reserved as she remembered him in Kent.
“I do not believe we were ever formally introduced, but Pemberley is a place which all have visited at least once. It is superb.”
“Thank you,” said Darcy, bowing again. “Do you reside here at present?” he asked, looking at her, yet soon turning his eyes towards Elizabeth.
“Yes, but a few houses further on,” Mrs Cooper answered, indicating with a discreet gesture a house upon the street, one of the most elegant in Derby.
“A very pleasant street,” said Darcy; and though he seemed sincere, Elizabeth could discern no sign of pleasure in his countenance.
She recalled him now as he had been in Kent—less the proud man she had first met in the assembly rooms at Meryton than the one who spoke of tedious subjects and yet sought every occasion of meeting her.
That man stood before her still, but she could not help wondering whether it were not merely the discomfort of seeing her again after that ill-fated proposal.
It seemed as though he wished only to escape a meeting that could bring him nothing but disagreeable recollections.
But suddenly he turned to her and asked, “Are you visiting Derby?”
Elizabeth, almost against her will, became the Elizabeth of Kent again. “I am here in a capacity which renders me accountable for more than my own comfort.”
Her reply disconcerted them both—Mrs Cooper, who looked at her in surprise at the severity of her tone, and he, who perhaps saw the lady from the Parsonage who refused him so uncivilly.
“We are just returning home; you must allow us to offer you some tea,” said Mrs Cooper hastily, endeavouring to ease the strain between them.
Darcy bowed respectfully and gestured towards the distance. “I am on my way to my solicitors. I thank you.”
And, after a most proper bow, he took his leave.
“What has passed?” asked Mrs Cooper, evidently disturbed by how the meeting had concluded.
“Mr Darcy proposed to me in Kent!”
Elizabeth had hesitated but a moment before speaking.
At another time, such an occurrence as that at the Parsonage would have furnished endless conversation in her family; she must surely have related all that had passed.
Perhaps she would have spared the particulars of his most offensive reflections upon her relations.
Still, she would certainly have dwelt with spirit upon her own reply—lively and ironical, as she had been when recounting that moment in which Mr Darcy had spoken sufficiently loud for her to hear that she was not handsome enough to tempt him.
It would have been the perfect continuation—if it proved that she had, in the end, been interesting enough to tempt him to make her an offer of marriage.
“Mr Darcy proposed to you?” cried Mrs Cooper, in astonishment. She took her familiarly by the arm and nearly drew her home; and once they were seated in the drawing room, she said shortly, “I must have the whole history!”
Elizabeth smiled, since it was precisely what would have occurred at Longbourn some months before, had misfortune not fallen upon them.
Just as in their parlour at Longbourn, she began at once, without hesitation.
“We have known one another for some time, since the autumn, in fact, when he came with some friends to Netherfield, an estate not far from…us.”
She paused a moment; she had meant to say our home, but realised that Longbourn was no longer theirs, and for the first time in many weeks she regarded that truth with a pain that no longer tore at her.
She briefly closed her eyes, yet it was enough for Mrs Cooper to understand, and to take her hand in her own.
“Oh, my dear, forgive me. I cannot imagine what you endure. You need not say anything.”
But Elizabeth gently shook her head. “I must learn to live with what has happened. Perhaps, in time, I shall be able to say that my father is dead, and we—”
“I first met Mr Darcy at the ball in Meryton, where he came accompanied by his friends.”
“I know; Maddy wrote to me in detail, and we were quite astonished at how small the world may be. She told me that Jane had an unfortunate attachment—she fell in love with Mr Darcy’s friend, and it ended ill for her; but she said nothing of you. Did Mr Darcy not admire you at that time?”
At that moment, the butler entered, as quietly as ever, though plainly with something of consequence to deliver.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but the young lady and gentleman are waiting for Miss Bennet in the schoolroom.”
Mrs Cooper made a slight gesture of dismissal. “Let Clara take them out for a walk—she must contrive to amuse them; for today Miss Bennet has other duties.”
She turned again to Elizabeth, smiling, and with evident impatience for the continuation.
“I behaved most abominably,” said Elizabeth.
“How? When?”
“At all times,” she confessed, “but I speak particularly of our meeting just now. That answer—”
“Indeed, it was singular—perhaps even severe. But if there exists between you so complex a history, it may be understood.”
“Unfortunately, it is neither to be understood nor excused. It is what my father has always reproached me with, in the hope of correcting me: I speak before I think, I allow my feelings to frame my replies, instead of my reason.”
“You regret it,” said Mrs Cooper, and Elizabeth had the distinct impression that beside her sat Mrs Gardiner, with the same gentleness and understanding.
“Oh yes, I do not regret it on his account. What pains me is my own failure to improve.”
“There is time, my dear; do not judge yourself too harshly. Such profound sorrow, and indeed the whole of your story, so full of distress, may excuse much. I am persuaded that all your father wished you to become will yet be possible, when this torment has passed.”
“Will it ever pass?”
“The pain of having lost your father will remain with you always; but you will have a home of your own, and your family home will become a cherished remembrance…not a loss.”
Elizabeth thanked her with a sad smile. Then, without haste, as though seeking to set her own thoughts in order, she related what had passed from Hertfordshire to Kent, and dwelling at times where the fault had been her own.
Yet, by instinct, she resolved not to tell the whole truth, nor to reveal the odious manner in which Mr Darcy had spoken of her family; she said only that he had confessed the struggle within his own heart, between his attachment and the inferiority of her family’s standing to his own.
She then spoke of Mr Bingley and Jane, but again without entering into particulars. Under no circumstance, even though it was entirely untrue, would she allow a stranger to doubt her elder sister’s honour. It was sufficient to say that his arrogance had deeply offended her.
“Do you regret anything?” asked Mrs Cooper at last, with gentleness.
“My conduct—that is certain. In Kent, and again in the street just now. It is as though he draws forth that combative side of me which I cannot govern.”
Mrs Cooper regarded her without speaking.
But the ten years she possessed beyond Elizabeth told her one thing only: a woman does not contend so earnestly with a man she believes herself to regard with indifference.
That, however, Elizabeth must discover for herself.
If she had only just begun to understand the past and to reflect honestly upon what had passed, then her history with Mr Darcy was but at its commencement.
She avoided, however, the slightest allusion to it.
“May I ask you a question?” Elizabeth said at last.
“Certainly—anything.”
“I should never have dared to ask it had it not been for…my father’s departure from us, had I not myself passed through a great sorrow.”
“I understand,” replied Mrs Cooper. “You wish to know about my husband’s death.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“I shall speak honestly to you. Mr Cooper was twelve years older than I.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Elizabeth in surprise.
“Yes. He conducted business with my father, and I believe my father had intended him for Maddy. I don’t know what happened. I think Mr Gardiner appeared, and matters hastened from that moment; Mr Gardiner, I believe, admired Maddy very much. And so I married Mr Cooper.”
“Just so?” Elizabeth asked.
“I know scarcely anyone around me who married otherwise. I believe there are perhaps two friends of mine who truly fell in love, but even they married only because their parents approved.”
Elizabeth was genuinely perplexed, as though only at that moment she fully understood that such was indeed the reality of the world.
It still astonished her that young women married men chosen by their families, though the same thing existed all around them.
Charlotte herself had accepted Mr Collins because Sir William had wished it.
“What we experienced was something exceptional, and certainly it came from Papa—from his liberal views.”
“Without doubt.”
“And Mama accepted it as well. Certainly, she protested and attempted to persuade us that life was otherwise, but it was always Papa who granted us that freedom. Now, placed as we are, I sometimes wonder whether he acted rightly towards us, because our very situation forbade such liberty. Good God, I do not wish to judge him, nor do I. I am grateful to think as I do, but had I been like other women, matters might now be simpler for me. I am torn between gratitude and perplexity.”
“I hardly know what to say…from a distance, I admire Mr Bennet greatly—”
“Do not mistake me; I adore him for all he gave us. But it is so difficult now, because I wait for love, when perhaps I ought to accept a husband and save my family.”
“And could you do it?”
Elizabeth reflected quite a long time; yet, however hard she tried, it was impossible to answer.
“Perhaps the answer will come only when I stand face to face with such a proposal. But that was not truly our subject.”
“No; you wish to know whether I was happy with Mr Cooper.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I lived two cheerful years with him. He was a man who loved amusement, though I do not believe he loved me. He desired a family, an heir; I gave him both, and then he departed before Violet’s birth, never seeing his daughter.
He died of a fever in Antigua, but his affairs had been so well conducted that a considerable fortune remained to me.
I sold everything in Antigua, the businesses here continue to prosper, and I manage them through my solicitors. ”
Elizabeth looked at her with admiration. She had appeared fragile as porcelain, yet Mrs Cooper seemed, in truth, a woman of steel.
“And as for sorrow…I shall not deceive you. I was grieved, but I recovered quickly. Nothing compares to your situation.”
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. Indeed, the circumstances were entirely different.
“Listen to me, Elizabeth. I wish you to understand that here you shall always have a home,” said Mrs Cooper. “But perhaps it is time to consider that changing oneself is not necessarily a misfortune.”