Chapter Fifty-Five
The Bennets and the Gardiners stared after the carriage as it turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Mrs. Bennet began to wail, but Mrs. Gardiner took her in hand. “Stop it, Fanny.” Her voice was soft, but urgent.
“But with Lizzy gone, Mr. Bingley –“
“We will talk it over when the guests are gone.” Mrs. Gardiner’s voice was firm. Then she called out to the guests, “Mary asked her sister to accompany her to Kent, and of course, Elizabeth could not refuse.”
This was immediately accepted by nearly everyone; it was common enough for one sister to accompany another after marriage.
But not everyone, for Mr. Darcy immediately accosted Jane. “I rather wish I had been privy to her plans,” he began.
“Why?” Jane asked, bluntly.
Mr. Darcy shifted from one foot to another. “Well, I usually visit my Aunt Catherine, and I might have accompanied Miss Elizabeth to Kent. For her own safety, of course,” he added, hastily.
Jane managed not to laugh. “You are quite the gentleman, Mr. Darcy, particularly when it comes to escorting Bennet ladies thither and yon, but I suspect she is safe enough with Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”
“Of course, of course,” Mr. Darcy replied, feeling rather awkward now.
He was soon joined by Mr. Bingley, who was frowning. “Miss Elizabeth did not tell me that she planned to travel! When will she return?”
“I have no idea, Mr. Bingley,” Jane replied, honestly. “She felt that Mary needed her help, and there was nothing here to keep her from providing it.”
Mr. Bingley opened his mouth to protest and then closed it at once.
Finally – finally! – the guests began to disburse, and not a moment too soon, in Jane’s opinion.
Charlotte, of course, had understood Elizabeth’s action immediately.
She wondered if she should explain why Elizabeth had left so unexpectedly, but decided just a moment later that it was likely that she, Charlotte, would be blamed for putting the idea into Elizabeth’s head.
It was better that her involvement in the matter remain unknown.
Charlotte turned when she heard Mr. Fitzwilliam’s voice. “May I accompany you to Lucas Lodge?” he asked.
“Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam frowned. “No, no; you must call me Reginald. Or Reggie, as does my family.”
Charlotte blushed. “I do not think it right.”
“But I insist! Tell her, Darcy,” Mr. Fitzwilliam continued, turning to his cousin.
“Miss Lucas, he will not relent, I fear,” Mr. Darcy said, smiling at Miss Lucas while silently cursing his cousin’s forward manners.
Charlotte turned to her mother, who shrugged with a smile. Turning back to the Viscount, she said, “Very well, Reginald. Then you must call me Charlotte!”
“Excellent!” he beamed at her.
Mr. Darcy added, “We will join you at Lucas Lodge, then, Miss Lucas. Come, Reginald, we will go in my carriage.”
Mr. Fitzwilliam was clearly about to protest and demand to travel in the Lucas’ carriage, but Mr. Darcy dragged him out of the house and into the Darcy carriage.
“Are you truly going to marry her?” Mr. Darcy demanded.
“Of course I am,” Mr. Fitzwilliam said. “I keep saying it; why do you not believe me?’
“Marriage is a serious business,” Mr. Darcy said. “It requires a good deal of consideration. You will be tied to this person for the remainder of your life. Will she make you happy? Will you make her happy?”
Mr. Fitzwilliam put out a hand. “Darcy, I am not an idiot.”
“I do not think you are an –“
“Evidently you do. I am a good deal older than you, Darcy, and I have had a good many years to contemplate my future. I have always known that I would have to marry and set up my nursery, and thus have spent a good amount of time thinking about the qualities I would want my wife to have. I would want her to be kind, gentle, able to manage an estate, willing to be honest with me and help me in social situations. Miss Lucas has all the qualities I hoped for. The tingling of the fingers, and elevated heart rate are all confirmation of the fact that Miss Lucas is the perfect wife for me.” He leaned forward and went on, “And, Darcy, she appears to like me, which is absolutely astonishing!! You are going to write to my mother, are you not?”
“You know that I must.”
“Of course; she would never forgive you if you did not. I only ask that you wait until tomorrow to do so. Now be a good fellow and tell me what I should do next in order to secure Charlotte’s hand.”
Mr. Darcy stared at his cousin. “Just like that? No interest in her dowry, her connections, her ancestry?”
“None whatsoever,” his cousin promptly replied.
Mr. Darcy sighed. “She is of age, so does not require her father’s permission to marry, but nonetheless, requesting Sir William’s permission to marry his daughter would be the gracious thing to do.”
“Excellent. And then?”
“And then you ask him for permission to speak with his daughter alone.”
“Very well. And then?”
“And then you tell her that you have her father’s permission to speak with her alone and then either ask everyone in the room to leave or take her outside in order to be alone with her.”
“And then?”
“Good heavens, man! And then you get down on one knee, tell her how you feel and ask her to make you the happiest man in all of England by consenting to be your wife!” Mr. Darcy felt ready to explode.
“Is this what you will do with your Miss Elizabeth? Oh, no, I forgot; she left for Kent.” Mr. Fitzwilliam gave his cousin a hard look and then stared out the window for the remainder of the short journey.
Mr. Darcy dropped his head into his hands and wondered, not for the first time, if his cousin was an idiot or a bloody genius.