Chapter Nine #4
Elizabeth laughed. “My dear, what if we read the book twice later? That is twice as many times as reading it once.”
Mr. Darcy, appearing beside them, said quietly, “That seems to be an excellent offer, and I might carry you about while you wait for Elizabeth.”
A frisson ran down her spine at his informal use of her given name, and she swallowed. Emily did not seem to notice, however.
“Oh, very well. If I must.” It was one of those things said in such an adult tone that always made Elizabeth giggle as the little girl stretched her arms out to her father, who took her.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy’s eyes met as she handed over the child, and he smiled at her.
Suddenly Elizabeth felt enormously better about the whole matter, even if she did not trust that feeling.
When she entered her father’s room, she found Mary reading from a collection of sermons. Mr. Bennet looked even more improved than he had that morning, his face almost symmetrical. “Papa, might I speak to you?”
“Instead of…uh, the Reverend…Fordyce?” Despite the slowness of his speech, her father’s eyes twinkled.
“You said I might choose whatever I wished to read!” Mary exclaimed.
He smiled at his middle daughter, both sides of his face lifting but one much less than the other. “Pleased by. Choice. It…different from my usual.”
From Mary’s expression it was clear that she was not quite certain whether to be offended or not.
Her father lifted his arm, this time the weak one, and waved her away.
When she had left the room, he turned to Elizabeth.
She was terribly anxious that this would make him unhappy.
He must blame himself a little, and Mr. Darcy was right that she was in this situation in part because Mr. Bennet had failed to economise.
But she loved her papa so dearly, and he might die suddenly.
He had been a good father, the best of fathers, at least in the ways he could manage.
He smiled at her.
“I must tell you something. Something that is, I think, good news. It ought to relieve us of much anxiety. It is nothing to be concerned about.”
“Make concerned.” He struggled to sit up straighter, then clenched the fist of his good hand. “Bad. Bad. I…was very wrong. Did not care for you. Collins, marry?”
“No, no, no.” Elizabeth took his hands. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” The echoing tone of surprise in Mr. Bennet’s voice would have greatly gratified Elizabeth, had she wished to be gratified by startling her father in such a case. “Tall, proud man? Insulted you. Insulted Charlotte?”
Elizabeth had not even thought about that. She would have to apologise to her friend. Though, as attracting Mr. Darcy—which Elizabeth had never consciously tried to do—had been her friend’s advice, she had good reason to hope that Charlotte would forgive her in this matter.
She was made unhappy thinking about it. “Yes, that man.”
“Well.” Her father frowned.
He did not appear desperately agitated. That had been Elizabeth’s chief fear. There did not seem to be the sort of nervous energy in him that the doctor had warned might lead to a return of the apoplexy.
He simply looked sad.
“Thought you’d marry Collins. Very bad. But little choice. I did bad. Greatly ashamed of…me.”
“Papa, you always loved me. You have always nurtured my mind, encouraged my reading, and shown delight in my presence. What else might I want from a father?”
“Money.”
Elizabeth burst into laughter, more than a little surprised by how sharply he had spoken.
He smiled at her. “Apologise. Wish you didn’t have to. But don’t know. Mr. Darcy. Did not…expect. Don’t understand.”
“He told me the story of what happened to his wife. It assured me that he is an honourable man. I am confident he will not deal with me with any harshness—not with what I would consider to be harshness. At least not if I act in accordance with the marriage vows. Emily is a delightful child. You will like her when you meet her. And Georgiana is my dear friend. She has come every day to sit with us…I have hopes of being happy.”
“Do you admire him?”
“Yes.” What? Elizabeth had not known that.
“But I do not know what that means. I only think highly of his character. Even his flaws are noble, though they scare me. They ought to scare me, as I shall live under his control. But he is not cruel. I do not even think he is cold. Oh, I fear loving him more than I fear indifferent amiability with him. He said that he cannot love, and I half believe him. He was hurt terribly. I do not know what our domestic life will be like—at Netherfield I liked to sit about and play with Emily while he played with her as well. He has a good mind, a well-informed mind. He is clever like you are. He will try to be kind. I do not…I do not think you need to fret.”
Her father frowned. He wiped his hand over his forehead. It was the weak hand. “If only I had not…blockhead. I have been…a blockhead. But I can hope. Always will fret. But Lizzy. My blessing. Whatever it is worth. Send him in. I may never be…better able.”
“Oh, Papa.” Elizabeth kissed him on the forehead.