Another Proposal, page 6
Thus decided, Darcy kicked his mount into a canter. The sooner he completed these tasks, the better.
Chapter V
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice reached Elizabeth as she remained in the sitting-room, astonished at what had just taken place.
When her sister approached her and caught sight of her face, she frowned and stepped forward, her brows narrowed in concern. “Are you well, Lizzy? You are paler than the dress you are wearing!”
Elizabeth could spare no thought for the sprigged muslin dress she wore, her eyes instead finding Jane’s, wondering how she would take this news. Knowing Jane, she would attempt to find the good in Mr. Darcy as was her custom, and while Elizabeth might not have credited it only the previous day, it seemed her sister was correct.
“Mr. Darcy just proposed to me!” blurted Elizabeth without thinking.
The widened eyes of her shocked sister brought some sense back to Elizabeth, knowing she was not the only one astonished by this news. “Mr. Darcy proposed to you? Two proposals in one day?”
The way Jane said it, coupled with the strain of the day and Elizabeth’s own surprise, provoked her to laughter, such as she had never indulged in before. In the past, the elder Bennet sisters had often admonished their younger siblings for the raucous laughter in which they indulged, but Elizabeth did not think they had ever allowed themselves to laugh to the extent that she did at that moment. The hysterical edge in her mirth seemed to concern Jane, but she remained silent and watchful, seeming to understand Elizabeth required this release to regain her composure. It was only a few moments until Elizabeth found herself returning to normal, though given the events of the morning, normalcy might forevermore be unattainable. The normalcy to which she was accustomed, at least, was at risk.
“Only you, Lizzy,” said Jane with fond affection when Elizabeth was finally spent. “Others might cry to release pent up emotion, but you laugh.”
“You must remember,” replied Elizabeth, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands, “that I dearly love to laugh—it is so much better than crying. Do you not agree?”
“I do, Lizzy. Now, will you not explain to me how this day has all come about? When I went upstairs to rest, I had no idea events of such significance were occurring. What of Mr. Collins and your rejection of his suit?”
Of Mr. Collins, Elizabeth did not wish to think, and she shrugged away Jane’s question. “I neither know nor care. Mr. Collins departed in Charlotte’s company for Lucas Lodge, and I can only hope we will not see him again before he returns to Kent.” Elizabeth paused and the disgust for the parson’s words hit her once again. “But Jane, the venomous words he directed at me as he was leaving! I wonder how they could come from a man of God!”
“Tell me, Lizzy,” prompted Jane again.
So, she did, beginning with the parson’s departure and her mother’s hysterics, then moving to Mr. Darcy’s arrival and his words. Elizabeth canvassed the proposal, their mother’s eavesdropping and interruption, and at last, moved to her conversation with the gentleman, his startling revelations about Mr. Wickham, his astonishing feelings for Elizabeth herself, and the final promise she had made to him to begin again. Through it all Jane listened—she was, perhaps, the best listener Elizabeth had ever met—and though she seemed surprised at times, she gave her support, making no judgment. When Elizabeth finished relating her tale, she was eager to hear Jane’s opinion. It was not what she might have expected.
“Through your recitation, you have spoken of Mr. Darcy’s feelings, Lizzy. What of yours?”
Confusion fell over Elizabeth and she did not know how to answer. When Jane did not press her, Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “I do not know what I feel for Mr. Darcy. How can I know? His proposal was so unexpected, and his declaration of his feelings more so if anything. Never could I have believed that cold, disapproving Mr. Darcy might have a heart!”
The last Elizabeth spoke in jest, but Jane gave her nothing more than a slight smile. “Lizzy, I know Mr. Darcy behaved abominably the first night we met him, and I understand the reasons for your antipathy. But I must tell you I never thought as badly of the gentleman as you did.”
“Of that, I am well aware,” said Elizabeth. “Jane, when do you ever think ill of anyone?” When Jane opened her mouth to speak, Elizabeth cut her off. “I do not think you naïve or too trusting, my dear sister, but you must own you attempt to find ways to think well of others, even when they are not deserving of it.”
“I prefer to think well, Lizzy. It would not do to make an erroneous judgment on another.
“While I cannot think like you, I understand, and I think highly of you for it.” Elizabeth paused and sighed. “Of Mr. Darcy, however, you must own there are other reasons for my distaste for the gentleman. Yes, his slight at the assembly was callous and unthinking. It is, however, his behavior since that has reinforced my opinion of him. My understanding of Mr. Darcy has improved, but his open arrogance and disdain for our neighbors has not endeared him to anyone. The gentleman admitted these failings himself.”
“That is to his credit, Lizzy.”
“It certainly is,” replied Elizabeth, “and I do not dispute it. Some part of me, however, wonders if his feelings for me are true.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh, I do not accuse the gentleman of imaginary regard, such as that displayed by Mr. Collins. But I must wonder how long it will last, whether he will grow distant as we age, or if he will regret his impetuous decision to offer for me when he is questioned in town for his interest in a penniless girl from the country who has neither fortune nor connections to tempt him.”
“And yet he has put these considerations aside for your sake, Lizzy.”
“He has—for the present.”
For a moment, Jane looked into her eyes, not saying anything. Then she seemed to come to a decision, for she smiled and stated: “Charlotte has often commented on Mr. Darcy’s propensity to look at you, has she not? It seems he has, and in a manner which cannot be confused, considering his actions this morning.”
To that, there was nothing Elizabeth could say, no rebuttal she could make. Elizabeth did not even attempt to claim he was looking at her to find fault, for Mr. Darcy himself had discredited such a notion and in such a way as to render Elizabeth’s arguments unsound.
“As to your other comments about the gentleman,” continued Jane, “a good woman may soften a husband’s manners, and his love for you may provide that impetus. And finally, his declaration of love for you cannot be disbelieved—now it is up to you to learn if you can love him, and if you can, share your love between you and strengthen it in a manner which will sustain you through whatever trials you may experience together.”
Elizabeth gazed at her sister, wondering when Jane had become so wise in the ways of the world. When Elizabeth made this observation, Jane demurred, as she had expected, prompting her to catch her sister in an embrace. Everything seemed right in the world when Jane was nearby to give her calm, rational opinion.
The door to the sitting-room opened moments later, and Mr. Bennet stepped in, but not without first peering inside from the edge of the frame, seeking to determine what lay beyond. Seeing only his eldest daughters, Bennet grinned and entered.
“All has been quiet for so long, I wondered if it was safe to exit my bookroom.” As he drew close, he looked on them, taking in their appearance. “It seems you are none the worse for wear, given the events of the morning.”
“I believe I shall be well, Papa,” said Elizabeth, giving him a wan smile.
“Had I any doubt of your fortitude, Lizzy, I should have bestirred myself before and braved all of my wife’s displeasure.” Mr. Bennet sat nearby and chuckled. “But I know my silly cousin’s antics will not affect you.
“Well, now that you have had one proposal, Lizzy, how do you find it?” Mr. Bennet’s chuckle turned to open laughter. “Have you acquired a taste for gentleman falling over themselves to earn your favor? Or should we arrange for another young man to come and make love to you in the most inept manner possible?”
While their father continued to allow his mirth free rein, Elizabeth shared a glance with Jane, her sister’s look questioning, while Elizabeth’s was resigned. There was no reason to keep the matter from him, for he would soon know; it could not be kept a secret when Mrs. Bennet already knew of it.
“There is no need for you to arrange anything, Papa,” said Elizabeth, releasing a heavy sigh as she did so. “Not an hour after Mr. Collins’s proposal, I received another.”
“Received another?” echoed Mr. Bennet, his mirth vanishing, replaced by confusion. “You have my apologies, Lizzy, but I did not know you had another suitor hiding in the bushes. Who, may I ask, has proposed to you?”
“It was Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth.
Her father’s eyes widened in shock. “Mr. Darcy? Mr. Bingley’s proud friend? That gentleman proposed to you?”
“He did, Papa. And while I can term his lovemaking inept as you said, for I had no notion of his interest, he was not so ineffectual at it as Mr. Collins.”
A snort was her father’s response. “No, I suppose that must be true—not every man can possess the mixture of arrogance and ham-fisted incompetence my cousin possesses.
“Then you have refused two proposals in the space of a single day!” cried Mr. Bennet with glee. “Oh, this is admirable, Lizzy—I cannot have imagined a more farcical scene for a Wednesday. I can only regret I was not here to see how your second proposal came about, for I imagine it must have been as amusing as the first. Come to think of it, I have missed both, for which I am most disappointed.”
Once again Elizabeth looked at Jane and groaned. “Actually, Papa, I did not exactly refuse Mr. Darcy.”
If Elizabeth thought Mr. Bennet’s earlier shock was extreme, it was nothing compared to the look of utter stupefaction with which he regarded her now. “I apologize, Lizzy, but I must own to being flummoxed. How does one ‘not exactly refuse’ a proposal? Surely you have not accepted him?”
“No, I did not accept him. But it was not a simple matter of delivering a rejection, for my mother became aware of it and accepted on my behalf.”
Once again Mr. Bennet snorted in laughter. “She did not wish to take any chances a second time, did she?”
That was not far from the truth, Elizabeth reflected. Having little choice, she related the events of the afternoon a second time, though this time with more brevity than her account to Jane. Mr. Bennet laughed in all the places Elizabeth thought he would, exclaimed over Mr. Darcy’s actions, and shook his head when she turned to the subject of Mr. Wickham. When she completed her recitation, he leaned back and regarded her, concern mixed with amusement and worry.
“That is a tale far more preposterous than I might have expected, Lizzy. Of first concern, however, is the actions of your mother—I should have thought she would lose no time in confronting me again, demanding my consent to your marriage to Mr. Darcy, and yet she did no such thing. Where is she?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I assume she retired to her room, for I can only imagine the state of her nerves.”
The rolling of Mr. Bennet’s eyes informed his daughters what he thought of his wife’s imaginary nervous condition. “Then that is quite out of character. But let us put it aside for the moment; I shall look in on your mother after we finish here.
“Next, though I hesitate to bring it up, you know your mother’s character is such that she will not allow this matter to remain unknown in the neighborhood. When she gathers herself, her first act will be to go around to all our neighbors proclaiming the match.”
Though Elizabeth could not know what she felt—fear, anger, resignation, annoyance, and many other emotions churned within her—she did know what her mother would do. The mitigating factor was Mr. Darcy’s declaration he would not force her if she decided against him. But Mrs. Bennet would not be so caring for her feelings.
“I see you understand,” said Mr. Bennet. “Then let us put that to the side too, for the moment. At present, I am more concerned about this Mr. Wickham and your lover’s account of him. First, are you certain you can trust his account rather than Wickham’s?”
When Elizabeth made to protest, Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “Elizabeth, I am inclined to believe Mr. Darcy over this Mr. Wickham. Not only is he a prominent man in society—which does not grant him worthiness by itself—but Mr. Bingley thinks highly of him, and though the man is eager to please, I do not think his judgment is faulty. Though I would not cast aspersions on you, my dear, you must own you were fervent in your praise of the one and your denunciation of the other. I wish for your honest assessment of this new information you have gained.”
By the time her father finished his explanation, Elizabeth could feel the heat in her cheeks. There was no escaping it—she had been blind, vain, absurd, and her vaunted judge of character had failed.
“I am aware of my deficiencies, Papa,” said Elizabeth, exerting herself to speak. “Having heard Mr. Darcy’s side of the tale and understood how Mr. Wickham left out many important points, I cannot do other than assume Mr. Wickham’ purpose was to mislead. When comparing the two men, I agree with you—I do not think there is any question Mr. Darcy’s is the more believable tale.”
“Do not make yourself unhappy, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone soothing. “We would not be human if we did not occasionally suffer a lapse of judgment. Yours is so often on the mark that it may have surprised you to be mistaken. No one is free of error their whole lives.”
“I agree, Lizzy,” said Jane.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth with feeling, though she still felt quite embarrassed.
How their discussion might have proceeded from that point Elizabeth could never know, for the sound of rapid rapping on the front door reached their ears. Jane had just arisen to see what was the matter when Mrs. Phillips burst into the room, Mrs. Hill trailing her with alarm.
“Lizzy!” cried the woman. “What news I have heard! I offer my sincere congratulations for a most splendid conquest! Never would I have thought one of my nieces would capture such an illustrious man!”
“Capture an illustrious man?” gasped Elizabeth, looking on her aunt with horror.
“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Phillips, ignoring or not recognizing Elizabeth’s consternation. “Why, talk of your engagement is all over Meryton! You were very sly to have refused Mr. Collins when he proposed. Were you aware that Mr. Darcy would offer his hand soon after? You must have known! Elsewise you would not have refused such an eligible offer as the one Mr. Collins presented!”
As her aunt prattled on, Elizabeth’s heart grew colder, and an awful certainty made itself known. Her father, however, was quicker to voice what Elizabeth was thinking.
“Mrs. Phillips,” said he, cutting her off mid-sentence—the woman had always possessed a hint of deference for Mr. Bennet, likely due to his position as the sole gentleman in the extended family. “Am I to understand this matter of Mr. Darcy and Lizzy is being discussed throughout the neighborhood?” At her aunt’s nod, Mr. Bennet asked: “Is it Mrs. Bennet who is spreading these tales?”
“Of course, it is!” exclaimed Mrs. Phillips, looking at him as if he were daft. “Who should inform the good people of the neighborhood but her own mother?”
“Who, indeed?” echoed Mr. Bennet. He turned and regarded Elizabeth. “It seems, Lizzy, we have discovered the whereabouts of your mother, and it is not where we thought, though I suppose we might have guessed.”
“Mama must have departed immediately after confronting Mr. Darcy and me,” said Elizabeth, feeling as miserable as she ever had.
Mr. Bennet nodded and turned back to his sister-in-law. “Do you know where Mrs. Bennet is now?”
“I do not,” said Mrs. Phillips. “I believe she was to visit the Gouldings and the Lucases, and she had already visited the Robinsons when she came to see me.”
The snort which comprised Mr. Bennet’s response spoke to his amusement. “All four—including you, Mrs. Phillips—among the most determined gossips in the neighborhood.” Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth. “Given the time that has passed, she must have leapt from the carriage, run into the sitting-rooms and declared her news, and then run out again to spring back onto my poor conveyance, eager to inform as many as she possibly can.”
Mrs. Phillips appeared scandalized at Mr. Bennet’s characterization of his wife, but Elizabeth knew it was in all probability entirely accurate. Even Jane did not protest, for she knew their mother as well as Elizabeth did herself.
“Then there is nothing else to be done,” said he, rising to his feet.
“What do you intend to do, Papa?” asked Elizabeth, fearing she already knew the answer.
“I shall ride to Netherfield,” replied her father as he exited the room. “Mr. Darcy must know what has happened.”
It was clear to the sisters that Mrs. Phillips did not know what to make of the discussion she had just heard, but the moment demanded she speak of the situation, and speak she did. Elizabeth did not have the heart to respond. Mrs. Phillips would not like her comments if she did.
“It will not be so bad, Lizzy,” said Jane in a low, comforting tone. “You already have Mr. Darcy’s love—I am sure he will provoke yours in return.”
Jane’s rosy view of the world did not provoke much confidence in Elizabeth, but she refrained from worrying her sister with a long, drawn-out sigh. “I suppose there is nothing I can do. My acceptance—or lack thereof—is now a moot point. There is no choice but to consider myself engaged to Mr. Darcy.”
Had Miss Bingley been more self-aware, she might have realized Darcy’s reasons for wishing to stay in Hertfordshire were not the reasons she wished. Unfortunately for the woman, no such thought crossed her mind, making it easy for Darcy to manipulate her into doing what he wished. It was not, perhaps, the most laudatory way to behave, but Darcy remained philosophical about it. Miss Bingley was determined to prevent her brother from offering for Miss Bennet, and Darcy did not think his refusal to depart would deter her to any degree.
Chapter V
“Lizzy?” Jane’s voice reached Elizabeth as she remained in the sitting-room, astonished at what had just taken place.
When her sister approached her and caught sight of her face, she frowned and stepped forward, her brows narrowed in concern. “Are you well, Lizzy? You are paler than the dress you are wearing!”
Elizabeth could spare no thought for the sprigged muslin dress she wore, her eyes instead finding Jane’s, wondering how she would take this news. Knowing Jane, she would attempt to find the good in Mr. Darcy as was her custom, and while Elizabeth might not have credited it only the previous day, it seemed her sister was correct.
“Mr. Darcy just proposed to me!” blurted Elizabeth without thinking.
The widened eyes of her shocked sister brought some sense back to Elizabeth, knowing she was not the only one astonished by this news. “Mr. Darcy proposed to you? Two proposals in one day?”
The way Jane said it, coupled with the strain of the day and Elizabeth’s own surprise, provoked her to laughter, such as she had never indulged in before. In the past, the elder Bennet sisters had often admonished their younger siblings for the raucous laughter in which they indulged, but Elizabeth did not think they had ever allowed themselves to laugh to the extent that she did at that moment. The hysterical edge in her mirth seemed to concern Jane, but she remained silent and watchful, seeming to understand Elizabeth required this release to regain her composure. It was only a few moments until Elizabeth found herself returning to normal, though given the events of the morning, normalcy might forevermore be unattainable. The normalcy to which she was accustomed, at least, was at risk.
“Only you, Lizzy,” said Jane with fond affection when Elizabeth was finally spent. “Others might cry to release pent up emotion, but you laugh.”
“You must remember,” replied Elizabeth, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands, “that I dearly love to laugh—it is so much better than crying. Do you not agree?”
“I do, Lizzy. Now, will you not explain to me how this day has all come about? When I went upstairs to rest, I had no idea events of such significance were occurring. What of Mr. Collins and your rejection of his suit?”
Of Mr. Collins, Elizabeth did not wish to think, and she shrugged away Jane’s question. “I neither know nor care. Mr. Collins departed in Charlotte’s company for Lucas Lodge, and I can only hope we will not see him again before he returns to Kent.” Elizabeth paused and the disgust for the parson’s words hit her once again. “But Jane, the venomous words he directed at me as he was leaving! I wonder how they could come from a man of God!”
“Tell me, Lizzy,” prompted Jane again.
So, she did, beginning with the parson’s departure and her mother’s hysterics, then moving to Mr. Darcy’s arrival and his words. Elizabeth canvassed the proposal, their mother’s eavesdropping and interruption, and at last, moved to her conversation with the gentleman, his startling revelations about Mr. Wickham, his astonishing feelings for Elizabeth herself, and the final promise she had made to him to begin again. Through it all Jane listened—she was, perhaps, the best listener Elizabeth had ever met—and though she seemed surprised at times, she gave her support, making no judgment. When Elizabeth finished relating her tale, she was eager to hear Jane’s opinion. It was not what she might have expected.
“Through your recitation, you have spoken of Mr. Darcy’s feelings, Lizzy. What of yours?”
Confusion fell over Elizabeth and she did not know how to answer. When Jane did not press her, Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “I do not know what I feel for Mr. Darcy. How can I know? His proposal was so unexpected, and his declaration of his feelings more so if anything. Never could I have believed that cold, disapproving Mr. Darcy might have a heart!”
The last Elizabeth spoke in jest, but Jane gave her nothing more than a slight smile. “Lizzy, I know Mr. Darcy behaved abominably the first night we met him, and I understand the reasons for your antipathy. But I must tell you I never thought as badly of the gentleman as you did.”
“Of that, I am well aware,” said Elizabeth. “Jane, when do you ever think ill of anyone?” When Jane opened her mouth to speak, Elizabeth cut her off. “I do not think you naïve or too trusting, my dear sister, but you must own you attempt to find ways to think well of others, even when they are not deserving of it.”
“I prefer to think well, Lizzy. It would not do to make an erroneous judgment on another.
“While I cannot think like you, I understand, and I think highly of you for it.” Elizabeth paused and sighed. “Of Mr. Darcy, however, you must own there are other reasons for my distaste for the gentleman. Yes, his slight at the assembly was callous and unthinking. It is, however, his behavior since that has reinforced my opinion of him. My understanding of Mr. Darcy has improved, but his open arrogance and disdain for our neighbors has not endeared him to anyone. The gentleman admitted these failings himself.”
“That is to his credit, Lizzy.”
“It certainly is,” replied Elizabeth, “and I do not dispute it. Some part of me, however, wonders if his feelings for me are true.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Oh, I do not accuse the gentleman of imaginary regard, such as that displayed by Mr. Collins. But I must wonder how long it will last, whether he will grow distant as we age, or if he will regret his impetuous decision to offer for me when he is questioned in town for his interest in a penniless girl from the country who has neither fortune nor connections to tempt him.”
“And yet he has put these considerations aside for your sake, Lizzy.”
“He has—for the present.”
For a moment, Jane looked into her eyes, not saying anything. Then she seemed to come to a decision, for she smiled and stated: “Charlotte has often commented on Mr. Darcy’s propensity to look at you, has she not? It seems he has, and in a manner which cannot be confused, considering his actions this morning.”
To that, there was nothing Elizabeth could say, no rebuttal she could make. Elizabeth did not even attempt to claim he was looking at her to find fault, for Mr. Darcy himself had discredited such a notion and in such a way as to render Elizabeth’s arguments unsound.
“As to your other comments about the gentleman,” continued Jane, “a good woman may soften a husband’s manners, and his love for you may provide that impetus. And finally, his declaration of love for you cannot be disbelieved—now it is up to you to learn if you can love him, and if you can, share your love between you and strengthen it in a manner which will sustain you through whatever trials you may experience together.”
Elizabeth gazed at her sister, wondering when Jane had become so wise in the ways of the world. When Elizabeth made this observation, Jane demurred, as she had expected, prompting her to catch her sister in an embrace. Everything seemed right in the world when Jane was nearby to give her calm, rational opinion.
The door to the sitting-room opened moments later, and Mr. Bennet stepped in, but not without first peering inside from the edge of the frame, seeking to determine what lay beyond. Seeing only his eldest daughters, Bennet grinned and entered.
“All has been quiet for so long, I wondered if it was safe to exit my bookroom.” As he drew close, he looked on them, taking in their appearance. “It seems you are none the worse for wear, given the events of the morning.”
“I believe I shall be well, Papa,” said Elizabeth, giving him a wan smile.
“Had I any doubt of your fortitude, Lizzy, I should have bestirred myself before and braved all of my wife’s displeasure.” Mr. Bennet sat nearby and chuckled. “But I know my silly cousin’s antics will not affect you.
“Well, now that you have had one proposal, Lizzy, how do you find it?” Mr. Bennet’s chuckle turned to open laughter. “Have you acquired a taste for gentleman falling over themselves to earn your favor? Or should we arrange for another young man to come and make love to you in the most inept manner possible?”
While their father continued to allow his mirth free rein, Elizabeth shared a glance with Jane, her sister’s look questioning, while Elizabeth’s was resigned. There was no reason to keep the matter from him, for he would soon know; it could not be kept a secret when Mrs. Bennet already knew of it.
“There is no need for you to arrange anything, Papa,” said Elizabeth, releasing a heavy sigh as she did so. “Not an hour after Mr. Collins’s proposal, I received another.”
“Received another?” echoed Mr. Bennet, his mirth vanishing, replaced by confusion. “You have my apologies, Lizzy, but I did not know you had another suitor hiding in the bushes. Who, may I ask, has proposed to you?”
“It was Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth.
Her father’s eyes widened in shock. “Mr. Darcy? Mr. Bingley’s proud friend? That gentleman proposed to you?”
“He did, Papa. And while I can term his lovemaking inept as you said, for I had no notion of his interest, he was not so ineffectual at it as Mr. Collins.”
A snort was her father’s response. “No, I suppose that must be true—not every man can possess the mixture of arrogance and ham-fisted incompetence my cousin possesses.
“Then you have refused two proposals in the space of a single day!” cried Mr. Bennet with glee. “Oh, this is admirable, Lizzy—I cannot have imagined a more farcical scene for a Wednesday. I can only regret I was not here to see how your second proposal came about, for I imagine it must have been as amusing as the first. Come to think of it, I have missed both, for which I am most disappointed.”
Once again Elizabeth looked at Jane and groaned. “Actually, Papa, I did not exactly refuse Mr. Darcy.”
If Elizabeth thought Mr. Bennet’s earlier shock was extreme, it was nothing compared to the look of utter stupefaction with which he regarded her now. “I apologize, Lizzy, but I must own to being flummoxed. How does one ‘not exactly refuse’ a proposal? Surely you have not accepted him?”
“No, I did not accept him. But it was not a simple matter of delivering a rejection, for my mother became aware of it and accepted on my behalf.”
Once again Mr. Bennet snorted in laughter. “She did not wish to take any chances a second time, did she?”
That was not far from the truth, Elizabeth reflected. Having little choice, she related the events of the afternoon a second time, though this time with more brevity than her account to Jane. Mr. Bennet laughed in all the places Elizabeth thought he would, exclaimed over Mr. Darcy’s actions, and shook his head when she turned to the subject of Mr. Wickham. When she completed her recitation, he leaned back and regarded her, concern mixed with amusement and worry.
“That is a tale far more preposterous than I might have expected, Lizzy. Of first concern, however, is the actions of your mother—I should have thought she would lose no time in confronting me again, demanding my consent to your marriage to Mr. Darcy, and yet she did no such thing. Where is she?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I assume she retired to her room, for I can only imagine the state of her nerves.”
The rolling of Mr. Bennet’s eyes informed his daughters what he thought of his wife’s imaginary nervous condition. “Then that is quite out of character. But let us put it aside for the moment; I shall look in on your mother after we finish here.
“Next, though I hesitate to bring it up, you know your mother’s character is such that she will not allow this matter to remain unknown in the neighborhood. When she gathers herself, her first act will be to go around to all our neighbors proclaiming the match.”
Though Elizabeth could not know what she felt—fear, anger, resignation, annoyance, and many other emotions churned within her—she did know what her mother would do. The mitigating factor was Mr. Darcy’s declaration he would not force her if she decided against him. But Mrs. Bennet would not be so caring for her feelings.
“I see you understand,” said Mr. Bennet. “Then let us put that to the side too, for the moment. At present, I am more concerned about this Mr. Wickham and your lover’s account of him. First, are you certain you can trust his account rather than Wickham’s?”
When Elizabeth made to protest, Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “Elizabeth, I am inclined to believe Mr. Darcy over this Mr. Wickham. Not only is he a prominent man in society—which does not grant him worthiness by itself—but Mr. Bingley thinks highly of him, and though the man is eager to please, I do not think his judgment is faulty. Though I would not cast aspersions on you, my dear, you must own you were fervent in your praise of the one and your denunciation of the other. I wish for your honest assessment of this new information you have gained.”
By the time her father finished his explanation, Elizabeth could feel the heat in her cheeks. There was no escaping it—she had been blind, vain, absurd, and her vaunted judge of character had failed.
“I am aware of my deficiencies, Papa,” said Elizabeth, exerting herself to speak. “Having heard Mr. Darcy’s side of the tale and understood how Mr. Wickham left out many important points, I cannot do other than assume Mr. Wickham’ purpose was to mislead. When comparing the two men, I agree with you—I do not think there is any question Mr. Darcy’s is the more believable tale.”
“Do not make yourself unhappy, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, his tone soothing. “We would not be human if we did not occasionally suffer a lapse of judgment. Yours is so often on the mark that it may have surprised you to be mistaken. No one is free of error their whole lives.”
“I agree, Lizzy,” said Jane.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth with feeling, though she still felt quite embarrassed.
How their discussion might have proceeded from that point Elizabeth could never know, for the sound of rapid rapping on the front door reached their ears. Jane had just arisen to see what was the matter when Mrs. Phillips burst into the room, Mrs. Hill trailing her with alarm.
“Lizzy!” cried the woman. “What news I have heard! I offer my sincere congratulations for a most splendid conquest! Never would I have thought one of my nieces would capture such an illustrious man!”
“Capture an illustrious man?” gasped Elizabeth, looking on her aunt with horror.
“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Phillips, ignoring or not recognizing Elizabeth’s consternation. “Why, talk of your engagement is all over Meryton! You were very sly to have refused Mr. Collins when he proposed. Were you aware that Mr. Darcy would offer his hand soon after? You must have known! Elsewise you would not have refused such an eligible offer as the one Mr. Collins presented!”
As her aunt prattled on, Elizabeth’s heart grew colder, and an awful certainty made itself known. Her father, however, was quicker to voice what Elizabeth was thinking.
“Mrs. Phillips,” said he, cutting her off mid-sentence—the woman had always possessed a hint of deference for Mr. Bennet, likely due to his position as the sole gentleman in the extended family. “Am I to understand this matter of Mr. Darcy and Lizzy is being discussed throughout the neighborhood?” At her aunt’s nod, Mr. Bennet asked: “Is it Mrs. Bennet who is spreading these tales?”
“Of course, it is!” exclaimed Mrs. Phillips, looking at him as if he were daft. “Who should inform the good people of the neighborhood but her own mother?”
“Who, indeed?” echoed Mr. Bennet. He turned and regarded Elizabeth. “It seems, Lizzy, we have discovered the whereabouts of your mother, and it is not where we thought, though I suppose we might have guessed.”
“Mama must have departed immediately after confronting Mr. Darcy and me,” said Elizabeth, feeling as miserable as she ever had.
Mr. Bennet nodded and turned back to his sister-in-law. “Do you know where Mrs. Bennet is now?”
“I do not,” said Mrs. Phillips. “I believe she was to visit the Gouldings and the Lucases, and she had already visited the Robinsons when she came to see me.”
The snort which comprised Mr. Bennet’s response spoke to his amusement. “All four—including you, Mrs. Phillips—among the most determined gossips in the neighborhood.” Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth. “Given the time that has passed, she must have leapt from the carriage, run into the sitting-rooms and declared her news, and then run out again to spring back onto my poor conveyance, eager to inform as many as she possibly can.”
Mrs. Phillips appeared scandalized at Mr. Bennet’s characterization of his wife, but Elizabeth knew it was in all probability entirely accurate. Even Jane did not protest, for she knew their mother as well as Elizabeth did herself.
“Then there is nothing else to be done,” said he, rising to his feet.
“What do you intend to do, Papa?” asked Elizabeth, fearing she already knew the answer.
“I shall ride to Netherfield,” replied her father as he exited the room. “Mr. Darcy must know what has happened.”
It was clear to the sisters that Mrs. Phillips did not know what to make of the discussion she had just heard, but the moment demanded she speak of the situation, and speak she did. Elizabeth did not have the heart to respond. Mrs. Phillips would not like her comments if she did.
“It will not be so bad, Lizzy,” said Jane in a low, comforting tone. “You already have Mr. Darcy’s love—I am sure he will provoke yours in return.”
Jane’s rosy view of the world did not provoke much confidence in Elizabeth, but she refrained from worrying her sister with a long, drawn-out sigh. “I suppose there is nothing I can do. My acceptance—or lack thereof—is now a moot point. There is no choice but to consider myself engaged to Mr. Darcy.”
Had Miss Bingley been more self-aware, she might have realized Darcy’s reasons for wishing to stay in Hertfordshire were not the reasons she wished. Unfortunately for the woman, no such thought crossed her mind, making it easy for Darcy to manipulate her into doing what he wished. It was not, perhaps, the most laudatory way to behave, but Darcy remained philosophical about it. Miss Bingley was determined to prevent her brother from offering for Miss Bennet, and Darcy did not think his refusal to depart would deter her to any degree.
