Chapter Twenty #2
Mr Bennet emerged from behind the rise with what he considered remarkable dignity under the circumstances. "Lizzy."
Mr Darcy bowed. "Mr Bennet."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable enough to satisfy nobody.
"I fear I have interrupted something."
"You have not," said Elizabeth quickly.
Mr Bennet looked from one to the other.
"No?"
"No."
"Excellent. I am always pleased to discover I have imagined entire conversations."
A faint colour appeared in Darcy's face.
"Perhaps we should return to the others," Elizabeth said.
"A capital idea."
Nobody appeared especially pleased by it.
They walked back towards the picnic together. Mr Darcy, whether from prudence or discomfort, gradually allowed himself to fall behind. Mr Bennet waited until he was well out of earshot before speaking.
"Lizzy, I wonder whether you have ever heard of Miss Bucket."
Elizabeth looked at him blankly. "I beg your pardon?"
"Miss Bucket. Or perhaps, Mr Derby?"
"I am quite certain I have never met Miss Bucket or this Mr Derby."
"No. Nor had I until four nights ago. Nevertheless, she appears to have acquired a considerable reputation."
The colour arrived so suddenly in Elizabeth's face that Mr Bennet felt a grim sort of satisfaction.
"Oh lord."
"That was more or less my reaction."
She covered her eyes briefly. "Papa."
"I spent an evening at an inn listening to many men, very few of them gentlemen, discuss a scandal of some local renown. It included a gentleman from Derbyshire, a card party, a young lady called Miss Bucket, and behaviour which they considered entirely shocking."
Elizabeth groaned and looked towards the sea.
"I believe that the gentleman from Derbyshire shall prove to be Mr Darcy."
Elizabeth made no answer.
"And it seems a remarkable coincidence," Mr Bennet continued, "that I should then discover him yet again taking your hand when his attentions are unwanted."
"It was hardly the scandalous embrace the good people of Dorset appear to imagine."
"No. Though I suspect the good people of Dorset would be disappointed to hear it."
Despite herself, a reluctant smile flickered across her face.
Mr Bennet's expression softened slightly. "You know, Lizzy, one disadvantage of being a very wealthy man is that the world develops an unfortunate habit of agreeing with you. Doors open. People accommodate your every whim."
She glanced at him. "You make him sound dreadful."
"I am speaking generally."
"You are speaking of Mr Darcy."
"I am speaking of any gentleman who has spent his life frequently getting his own way."
Elizabeth was quiet for a few moments. "He is not like that."
"No?"
"No."
Mr Bennet considered this.
"I do not care how rich he is," he said at last. "Or how handsome, before you rush to his defence on that score as well. He does not get to have his own way simply because he wants something very badly."
Elizabeth laughed. "I assure you I have no intention of defending his handsomeness to my father."
"A great relief."
"Nor has Mr Darcy ever expected me to agree with him."
"That is useful because you rarely agree with anyone."
"Exactly."
They walked a little further. Mr Bennet glanced sideways at her. "You are annoyed with him."
"I am."
"Good."
Elizabeth looked surprised. "Good?"
"Very good. Any man who acquires the habit of taking liberties deserves to be made uncomfortable."
She shook her head.
"It was not a liberty."
"No?"
"It was..." She stopped herself.
Mr Bennet waited.
"It was foolish," she finished.
"Ah."
That answer worried him rather more than the alternative.
???
Later that afternoon, after most of the party were resting after an abundance of fresh air and Mrs Makepeace’s hearty fare, Mr Bennet found Mrs Bennet sat at the shore.
He watched her smile at a group of children whose mighty sand edifice was now being slowly crumbled by lapping waves.
Their shrieks of delight and horror caused his wife to shake her head indulgently.
Wasn’t it simpler when their girls had been that age?
Without suitors or uncertainty or the complexities of adult life to stumble over. He walked over to join her.
"I have been looking for you," he said.
Mrs Bennet glanced up. "Have you?"
"Not very diligently."
"That sounds more like you."
He sat beside her and for a few moments they watched the sea in silence.
Once such a silence would have been impossible.
Mrs Bennet had always regarded silence as a temporary condition requiring immediate correction.
She seemed perfectly comfortable with it now.
The change still had the power to catch him unawares.
"You have made a friend of the sea."
Mrs Bennet smiled faintly. "I think it has made a friend of me."
"I am beginning to suspect Lyme has improved everyone."
"It has improved you a little."
"An outrageous accusation."
"I thought so."
The smile lingered.
Mr Bennet looked out towards the water. "I have been thinking."
Mrs Bennet laughed. "That is always dangerous."
"I am surrounded by critics."
"You have spent twenty-three years encouraging them."
"I cannot deny it."
She glanced at him then, amusement still softening her expression.
"I thought," he said, "that perhaps we ought to begin considering our return."
Mrs Bennet was quiet for a moment. "Because of Jane?"
"Partly."
"And because of Lizzy."