“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” he said, “and good morning to you, Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, Miss Catherine, and Miss Lydia.” He bowed to them all, including Mr. Collins. “I begged Miss Elizabeth to let me join you this morning. Oh!” He turned to Jane. “Before I forget, I was charged by Mr. Bingley to convey his deepest regards to you in particular, Miss Bennet, and to your entire family as well. He is likely travelling to town as we speak. I believe he will return on—”
“Saturday,” Jane said before Darcy could finish his sentence. Her face suffused with a delicate blush. “I apologise for interrupting you.”
“Not at all. Saturday is correct,” he replied with a gracious smile. “Now, I must have a word with Mr. Bennet, if he is available.”
“But—but Mr. Darcy!” said Mr. Collins, red-faced and flustered. “You cannot—My cousin—How could—Lady Catherine will be—What will Lady Catherine say? This must be Cousin Elizabeth's fault!” He glared at her and appeared torn between approaching Mr. Darcy to admonish him further and maintaining a respectful distance in honour of his consequence and his connection to Lady Catherine.
“I believe I have grasped the nature of your business, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth had not noticed her father's library door open.
“Good morning, sir,” Mr. Darcy said, turning to face him.
“Yes, well,” Papa began, only to be interrupted by his cousin.
“My dear cousin, you simply cannot allow this match to proceed! It is not sanctioned by Lady Catherine de Bourgh!”
“And what has Lady Catherine to do with whom my daughter marries?”
“Oh! Nothing at all! It is her nephew's marriage in which she must have her say, though I do not doubt my dear cousin would also benefit from her ladyship's sage advice on the matter! In fact, it is my intention to introduce Cousin Elizabeth to her ladyship as soon as possible, for you must know that—my attentions have been too marked to be—”
“Now, Mr. Collins,” interjected Mrs. Bennet, “I tried to spare you this, but you would leave the breakfast table! When I stepped out intending to discover what was keeping Lizzy, I saw her here and could easily tell what she was about. I had no idea of anything of the kind between them until that moment, you understand, or I never would have....Oh, my! But I came back immediately to spare your feelings! I tried my best, did not I, girls?”
“My feelings?” said an ever more agitated Mr. Collins. “Lady Catherine's feelings are the matter for concern!”
“Sir,” said Papa quietly to Mr. Darcy, “I will speak with you shortly. Right now I want to talk to Lizzy.”
Elizabeth looked at her father and then at Darcy, who nodded and smiled, and she slipped into her father's library. She heard Darcy addressing Mr. Collins as the door closed.
“Lizzy,” Papa said, “what do you mean by accepting this man? I can see you do not hate him any longer, but I would swear you did when you woke this morning!”
“I would not say I hated him this morning when I woke.”
“Yesterday morning, then!”
“Fair enough.”
“Do not be tiresome, Lizzy! Explain yourself.”
Elizabeth took a seat but then jumped right back up and began to pace. Her father looked worried now instead of annoyed, so she stood still and smiled at him, which only seemed to increase his worry.
“You have not had a sudden desire to be rich? I know the man danced with you last night. Did you decide to make something of his unlooked-for interest? I have never considered you a mercenary girl.”
“I am glad you have not.”
“Then tell me what this is about!”
He had used that quiet, insistent voice that was almost worse than shouting. Elizabeth looked with compassion at him. Poor Papa! He had expected this outcome no more than she had, and she ought to help reconcile him to it as quickly as she could.
“I will do my best to make you understand. I am not certain I understand it all myself, but I am certain I want to marry Mr. Darcy.” She really was certain of that. She sat down again and waited until her father did likewise.
“And it has nothing to do with pin money and carriages?”
“No.” She shifted in her chair. She was convinced that she was making the right choice: not necessarily an easy choice, but the right one. She thought a moment. “I guess you could say we have misread each other from almost the beginning of our acquaintance.” It had not been easy to own up to her mistakes, but she was the better for it. She was certainly happier for it.
“What mystery has there been in his behaviour? We could all see that he is proud and disagreeable.”
“He was not proud and disagreeable just now!” He had not been too proud to behave civilly, even amiably, towards her family. She knew it was not reasonable of her to expect her father to disregard Mr. Darcy's previous attitude towards the people of Meryton in general and his family in particular, but she found herself short of patience with him nonetheless. She was happy; could that not be sufficient? “The man outside your library is quite pleasant and spoke prettily to my mother and sisters.”
Her father did not appear impressed. For a moment he just looked at her, and then he said, “You barely know him.”
She had to stop herself from saying, 'I know him better than you think.' It would not do to give her father the wrong idea. She took another approach. “If Mr. Bingley were to call on you today and ask for Jane's hand,” she asked, “would you deny him?”
“No.”
“Jane has not known Mr. Bingley any longer than I have known Mr. Darcy, and she has hardly spent more time in Mr. Bingley's company than I have spent in his friend's.”
“I dare say Jane and her Mr. Bingley have not spent their time misunderstanding and insulting each other,” her father pointed out, raising a brow in enquiry. “I find it hard to imagine you have not repaid Mr. Darcy for that injudicious remark at the assembly.”
“Oh, I have. Twice I refused to dance with him.”
Her father seemed to soften at that. He even looked amused. “And the man kept asking.”
“Yes. I was a blind fool.” She shook her head. “Last night I flaunted my foolishness by spending the first dance refusing to speak to him and the second questioning and accusing him. It was awful. Do not laugh, Papa!”
Her chuckling father paid her no heed.
She smiled reluctantly. “I admit to being ridiculous. It was that horrid conversation, however, that led to our present understanding. Mr. Darcy discovered that I did not like him. He had not realised it until then, if you believe it. For my part, I discovered that an old acquaintance of his had spread lies about him and that what I had assumed was mutual dislike was not mutual after all.”
“An old acquaintance? I do not imagine anyone bearing the name of Bingley has said anything derogatory about the man.” His eyes suddenly brightened. “Is it the new officer from the north I have heard you and your sisters giggle and sigh over? I admit to rarely listening to Lydia, but she was quite voluble last week when you all came back from your aunt's. She raved about a certain soldier's looks and then complained that he made several mentions of Mr. Darcy, of all people, during a game of lottery tickets! I remember being surprised even a redcoat could draw Lydia's attention away from lottery tickets, so fond is she of that game.”
“Yes, Mr. Wickham is the man. He is the son of the late Mr. Darcy's steward and something of a ne'er-do-well.”
“So Mr. Darcy has gone from being your enemy to being the man you want to marry! That is a great deal to sort out during a pair of dances—or a single dance, if you refused to talk to him for the first one. How did you manage to settle it all? I know he did not ask you to dance a second time. Your mother would not have kept silent about that. Neither did you appear to be friendly when we left the ball.”
Elizabeth did not wish him to know about the letter, so she did not answer immediately.
Her father looked squarely at her. “Now I may seem an old man to you girls, but I know what manner of sounds I heard outside my library door. Please tell me a few kisses have not turned your head and caused you to throw away your good sense.”
Her shoulders drooped.
She told him as much about the letter as she dared without revealing any specifics regarding Miss Darcy. Her father looked none too pleased, and from his few remarks, she gathered he was less disturbed by the contents of the letter than by the fact that she had received it at all. She waited a moment for his brow to relax and for him to dismiss or make a joke of it, as was his wont with disagreeable things, but he continued to frown at her. It occurred to her that he might suspect her of withholding something from him. If so, did he believe it to be more than it was? Did he perhaps think she had gone further than she ought, further than morality, and not just prudence, dictated? The thought was painful.
“I hope you know me well enough, Papa,” she said unhappily, “not to believe the current state of affairs between Mr. Darcy and myself was built on a foundation consisting solely of improprieties!” She tried to smile despite her consternation, but her father's expression did not change, and that dampened her spirits. She turned from him and said no more.
Elizabeth had not expected to be sat in her father's library this morning, at odds with him over a marriage proposal from Mr. Darcy, of all people! The threat of Mr. Collins's addresses had been nothing to this. Mr. Darcy was no Mr. Collins, whose sole attraction was being heir to Longbourn. If she wished to marry him, especially after having detested him, why could Papa not trust that she must have very good reasons?
She could only guess that her father did not appreciate having to adjust his ideas to these new circumstances. He was, in truth, likely to grant Mr. Darcy anything he should ask, but he appeared to be annoyed because Elizabeth would not spare him the bother.
Jane would never have faced this sort of enquiry or disapprobation over a suitor. Even if there had been any number of letters—or kisses, for that matter—her father would have questioned nothing of consequence. Jane, however, was unlikely to go from hating a man to loving him; she would begin and end thinking well of any man she wished to marry. That would make an application for her hand blessedly uncomplicated.
Elizabeth thought about Mr. Darcy. There seemed little uncomplicated about that man or about her acquaintance with him.
Just as she was considering whether to say something in Mr. Darcy's defence, as defending her own behaviour had accomplished nothing, her mother burst into the room. “Mr. Bennet, you must come quickly! There is such a to-do! Your cousin looks as red as a tomato, and he insists Mr. Darcy is engaged to Lady Catherine's daughter!”
“What is this?” Mr. Bennet said, looking at his wife with interest.
Papa must believe he has found a way round this matter, Elizabeth thought. It would be best for him to be disabused of that notion without delay. “Mama, there is no engagement between Mr. Darcy and his cousin.” She smiled at a sudden thought. “Do you recall last night at supper, when you spoke to Lady Lucas about my marrying Mr. Collins, as if it were a settled thing?”
“Oh, that!” said Mrs. Bennet, catching her meaning with gratifying quickness. “No, no. I see. I see! Never mind that now.”
“Exactly, Mama. Mr. Collins speaks only of Lady Catherine's preferences, and no more. Mr. Darcy has already told me of it. His aunt will not be pleased, but that cannot be helped.”
“I suppose not, but Mr. Collins is so angry, going on and on about his patroness's disappointment! He was even a little rude when I begged him to finish his breakfast and let Mr. Darcy be.”
“I ought to go and rescue Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, imagining he must be quite weary of Mr. Collins's impertinence. Rising from her chair, she looked up and saw mild surprise fading into resignation on her father's face. Her mother's face was a picture of almost girlish excitement.
It was time to leave this room. “Come with me. Mama,” Elizabeth said, taking her mother's arm. She determined to enjoy this rare moment of accord between them. “If Mr. Collins will not relent, we can remind him that the choice is Mr. Darcy's, and he prefers to have you for a mother-in-law rather than Lady Catherine.”
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