by D. L. Carter
Darcy gave a low groan and when Elizabeth glanced toward him, rolled his eyes.
Elizabeth hid a giggle behind her work again.
Bingley accepted the note extended to him.
“What say you, Mr. Darcy?” said Elizabeth softly. “Illness or sudden, inexplicable family emergency?”
“The charge of illness must be defended later,” replied Darcy in a low voice. “I suspect Miss Bingley will plead some other excuse. I have faith in her imagination.”
Whatever Miss Bingley wrote did not please her brother. He read the note, scowled, then deliberately and carefully arranged his features into a pleasant smile.
“It seems they cannot accept today for fear of offending the cook but that will not change my decision. I shall remain. You, Darcy?”
“The same, Bingley.”
It was not until they were refreshing themselves prior to dinner that Darcy was able to question Bingley regarding the note’s contents.
“She is packing!” snapped Bingley. “My sister has every intention of returning to London and has ordered the household packed up. The rooms put under covers. Well, she shall learn I am not to be overridden. When I get home I shall have the servants put all to rights again. I am staying, Darcy, whether she goes or not.” Bingley pierced Darcy with a stare not often seen. A look of utter determination. “And you?”
“I will remain with you, Bingley, of course!”
“Excellent! Good fellow.”
***
Mrs. Bennet dominated the dinnertime conversation. It was obvious that her endless river of words did not please everyone. For once it was Kitty who was fidgeting in her seat, looking about and jumping when there was a pause in the flow of conversation almost long enough for her to claim her share, therefore it was quite apropos of nothing when she burst out as the mutton was served, “Papa, why didn’t you tell us the entail was broken!”
Mrs. Bennet stared at her daughter blankly, her breath wheezing in and out and then, to the astonishment of the table, sincerely fainted.
In the hubbub that followed Mr. Bennet left the management of his wife to his housekeeper in order to corner Kitty.
“How did you come by this intelligence, miss?” demanded Mr. Bennet.
“Why, from Mr. Denny,” said Kitty, her delight at being the first with the news fading under the pressure of her father’s gaze. “He said it is all over Meryton! Everyone knows.”
Mr. Bennet stepped back, cupping his chin in his hand, scowling at the wallpaper.
“Papa,” ventured Elizabeth. “Is it true?”
“Not yet,” said Mr. Bennet, with a glance toward his wife who was recovering apace with aid from Mrs. Hill and Jane. “We are awaiting news from the north. I was waiting for confirmation that the last remaining Bennet cousin died without issue before speaking of the matter to my family. I did not want excessive excitement to lead to greater disappointment should another heir be found, but it seemed my preferences were not respected.”
Before any other could speak Mrs. Bennet sat upright.
“What are we to do? We shall be cast out to starve…”
“Mrs. Bennet,” interrupted her husband. “Who do you imagine will do the throwing?”
“The crown,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Unclaimed estates revert to the crown!”
Mr. Bennet laughed and sank back in his chair. “My dear Mrs. Bennet, I never thought you considered me so high. But, to put your mind at ease, it is only noble gifts that revert to the crown. Since my ancestor did so plebian a thing as buying this estate we do not have to return it to the king.”
“Then we are saved,” shrieked Mrs. Bennet swinging from despair to joy in an instant. “Lizzy. Oh, how well done of you to throw Mr. Collins down the stairs. Now I can be calm.”
“It would be the first time in our marriage,” observed Mr. Bennet.
“But this is the best news. Oh, how I wish I could speak to my sister, Phillips,” here Mrs. Bennet directed a glare toward her husband and then she laughed. “Oh, nothing shall cast me down again. This news has set me up forever. We are saved.”
Mr. Bennet concentrated on his food in silence. After a time he sent for Mr. Hill and dispatched him with a message.
All three courses and seven removes were not enough to the excesses of Mrs. Bennet’s joy. And no amount of shushing or begging on her daughters' part would serve to silence her. After dinner, seeing the degree to which her mother’s performance was embarrassing Elizabeth, Darcy declared he and Bingley must make an early night and depart.
As they walked out into the chill night they encountered Mr. Phillips arriving. The solicitor saluted them with a preoccupied air before knocking on Mr. Bennet’s door.
“What is that all about?” asked Bingley when they were on the road to Netherfield.
“Both good news and bad news for the family, if it is true,” guessed Darcy. “If the mother cannot be muzzled the news will spread that Elizabeth Bennet deliberately killed her father’s only heir so as to free the family from the entail!”
“Dear God,” whispered Bingley. “Just when I thought it could not get worse.”
***
The next morning Jane and Elizabeth breakfasted early so as to avoid their mother, then took themselves out into the garden. For Elizabeth, her mother’s excessive joy was more difficult to tolerate than her derision and disdain. Strange though the thought was, Elizabeth found it difficult now to find affection for her mother in her heart. For the longest time she had very little respect for the flighty, easily distressed woman who’d birthed her but had known that she should love her. She had known that she should, but found it very difficult. Now it seemed even the illusion of affection was gone. Lizzy grieved more now for the loss of the illusion than the affection she should have experienced.
These were not thoughts she could share with Jane. Jane persisted in trying to see some good in all of this, and if she knew Elizabeth’s thoughts in the moment, would direct her energies into forming a reconciliation. And, for the foreseeable future Elizabeth was not certain she wanted reconciliation.
It was as well the sisters had good hearing for they were early alerted to the arrival of Mr. Phillips, accompanied by his wife, and were able to hide behind the shrubbery.
Mrs. Phillips had imposed upon her husband to make a second visit in response to Mr. Bennet’s late night summons so that she might innocently pay a call on her sister.
Mr. Phillips betook himself to the bookroom while Mrs. Phillips hastened up the stairs and into Mrs. Bennet’s chamber with no one, she supposed, the wiser.
“Oh, sister,” cried Mrs. Bennet, woken out of a deep slumber when Mrs. Phillips closed the door. “Is it not excellent news? Why, nothing could be better! Mr. Bennet’s estate shall go to his daughters, as it should from the beginning. I shall never have to leave my home!”
“Yes, indeed,” was the reserved reply.
“Who would have thought so much good would have come from Lizzy being a hoyden? I could almost forgive her for refusing Mr. Collins as she should, but now, nothing could be better. My dearest Jane shall marry Bingley, putting the other girls in the way of other rich men, except Lizzy. No, Lizzy shall marry Mr. Wickham and relieve Mr. Bennet of the worries of the estate. Yes, that shall do very well for all of them.”
“Wickham?” replied Mrs. Phillips, who was not aware of Mr. Wickham’s pointed attentions.
“Yes. Did you not know, sister, that Mr. Wickham’s father had the stewardship of a very large estate to the north? Mr. Wickham learned at his father’s knee all that was required to make an estate prosperous.”
“That is very well. But why is he to marry Lizzy?”
“Oh, that girl. She has ruined her name with this scandal and a steward’s son is as high as she can aspire now. Yes, Mr. Wickham shall do very well for her, if I can persuade Mr. Bennet, who is so stubborn and disagreeable, and she will have to be happy with it. But the other girls, sister, no doubt Mr. Bingley is agreeable enough to take them
about in London. They shall do better.”
“Yes. Yes. That is very good news. But have you heard the latest?”
Warned by her sister’s expression and tone the smile faded from Mrs. Bennet’s face. “The latest?”
Chapter Fourteen
After speaking at length to Mr. Phillips, Mr. Bennet went to his window in time to see Lizzy and Jane walking in the weak sunshine. He tapped rapidly on the glass to catch their attention and beckoned them in.
When they entered he gestured them to seats beside the fire and tried to organize his thoughts.
“I suppose, girls, after last night’s announcement you have some questions.”
“Is it true?” inquired Jane glancing toward Mr. Phillips. “Have we confirmation?”
“I do not know, as yet,” said Mr. Bennet and explained all that Mr. Phillips had presented to him. “You see, don’t you girls, why I did not say anything to your mother? I did not want her getting excited and then being disappointed.”
“Yes, father,” said Lizzy, “but now she has heard, what are we to do?”
“Nothing more than we are already doing. The mourning period stands us in good stead. She cannot go calling and gossiping.”
“But the townsfolk already know,” said Lizzy. “Kitty heard from Lt. Denny which means the militia know as well as all the gossips of Meryton. We were the only ones in ignorance.”
Mr. Bennet ignored the implied criticism.
“Yes, and I lay that at the door of your aunt. Apparently your Uncle Phillips had the lack of foresight to permit her to learn the news. That foolish gossip, of course, did not delay an instant to consider the consequences of her actions. I have heard from Mr. Phillips … what is it, my dear?”
Elizabeth had risen to her feet.
“She is here, now. She came this morning with her husband. Mrs. Phillips is upstairs with mother. I thought you had given permission for the visit.”
Mr. Bennet charged out of the room, shouting up the stairs for his wife.
Mrs. Bennet appeared with Mrs. Phillip smiling smugly behind her.
“Again, Mrs. Phillips? Again?” cried Mr. Bennet. “Must I order the door locked and barred against you?”
Mrs. Phillips sniffed and straightened. “I have a responsibility to my sister. My nieces.”
“Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet. “I have endured your sister throughout our marriage out of respect and affection for you despite the fact that nothing that happened between these walls did not end up bruited about the town. Your sister is the most alarming gossip in the county. If she has no story to tell she creates one. If she can makes matters worse with her tongue, she does so. There is a reason she wanted the house that overlooks the main street of Meryton. It is so no event, good or ill, can escape her gossip.”
“What is the harm of a little friendly chat?” said Mrs. Phillips.
“I did not appreciate being informed by the publican when my wife was enceinte with our first child and appreciated it less learning from the same source that she miscarried our son.”
Mrs. Phillips smile wobbled.
“Know this, madam – that I will endure it no longer. If you cannot keep your teeth shut I shall terminate my agreement with your husband. Now, leave and stay away, but most importantly to your future comfort, stay silent or it will be you starving in the hedgerows.”
“I should not permit that,” declared Mrs. Bennet. “My own sister. Certainly not. I shall have her live with me. I would not permit you to cast her out and she would say the same for me!”
“Then why do you wail daily for the last twenty years at the danger to yourself?” demanded Mr. Bennet. “Did you not expect your family to rescue you? To shelter and feed you? Surprising that you were not so complacent the entirety of our marriage. I am quite shocked.”
With that Mr. Bennet walked back down the hall, nodded to Jane and swept Lizzy into his bookroom.
“Papa,” said Lizzy, near to tears followed him in. “What is it? Why are you so angry? I have never heard you speak so.”
“Perhaps I should have. It is my own fault that your mother has run so wild but I would not exert myself to calm or comfort her. If she didn’t have the sense to realize I would take steps to see to her safety then …” he glanced toward the door and his voice trembled, “Perhaps she did not truly know me.”
“Oh, papa.”
“Yes, well then. That is beside the point. I, my dear Lizzy, am a sorry excuse for a husband and father. I have been wrong and am in part responsible for your sufferings. No, do not dismiss my share of the responsibility. But I must say, I have always been proud of you. You are strong, my dear. Stronger than I am myself. Always you have held yourself to a high standard and refused to be cast down by the follies of your silly mother and, dare I say, equally silly father.”
“Papa, what is it?” never had Lizzy heard her father speak so. He was so cast down. So sad. Almost broken.
“Always your spirit rises at any attempt to overwhelm you. I must ask you, Lizzy dear, to continue despite what is to come.”
“Oh, papa, you are making me frightened.”
“I must warn you. I would not have you hear it from any other. Your Uncle Phillips has reported further gossip in Meryton…”
Elizabeth settled into her chair with a sigh.
“What can they possibly say now?”
***
“Charles, how could you?” cried Caroline as she ran down the steps to greet them the previous night, as Charles and Darcy climbed the Netherfield stairs slowly. “I tried to warn you and you would not heed me. How could you associate with a known murderess? Dine in company with her. And to drag Mr. Darcy into your foolishness? It is beyond my understanding how you could do something so lacking in sense.”
“Caroline,” said Bingley, in a soft but firm voice. “If you find it too uncomfortable to watch you may, indeed, depart. I shall remain! Where is the housekeeper? If I do not have you to direct my household I must practice instructing her in person.”
And with that he swept up the stairs. Darcy inclined his head at the furious woman but said nothing.
“Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, please,” cried Caroline. “You must aid us. Poor Charles has let his infatuation with his current flirt blind him to all that is proper and right.”
Caroline clutched at Darcy’s sleeve as he passed.
“Miss Bingley, I regret under the circumstances I am unable to assist you as I have already given my word to aid Bingley in this.”
“No. No. How can it be you do not see what I see? Association with this family will ruin us as well!”
“Perhaps. But, perhaps, if they maintain their dignity, rise above the slurs and accusations, the Bennets will regain their place in society!”
With that Darcy stalked off to the safety of his chambers. His valet tended to him in silence and soon enough Darcy was ensconced in a comfortable chair before the fireplace, brandy in hand.
Miss Bingley’s words and her distress remained ringing in his head.
Struggle though he might, he could not rid himself of the knowledge that if his dearest sister’s story was to be revealed she would have earned the same rejection, the same derision as currently rained down upon Miss Elizabeth and her family.
Each time he saw someone turn away from one of the Bennet sisters, or heard the hate-filled, evil-minded words that fell from Miss Bingley’s lips, he cringed, imagining poor Georgiana struggling to bear up under that self-same attack.
And the thought of the hypocrisy soured his stomach and tore at his soul. All of those sanctimonious hypocrites who stood in judgment were taking joy in the suffering they inflicted. He could see them now. Those ancient cats seated around the ballrooms, tearing reputations with sharp teeth and vicious words. And gloating. Oh, how they preened with the consciousness of their own superiority!
He snarled and rose to pace the room.
No! Respect for society's written and unwritten rules notwithstanding, he could not, would n
ot, inflict a sneer, a snub, a shaming on Elizabeth.
She had done nothing wrong. Nothing! And Georgie? Who was society to decide that she should be punished, overlooked, insulted simply because she trusted where she should not? Loved not wisely. Trusted an untrustworthy man. Why should she bear the shame of his bad behavior?
Both women suffered. Georgie, alone with her new companion, disillusionment, could barely lift her head in company.
And Miss Elizabeth. The beautiful, charming, delightful Lizzy. He put down the glass, not daring to add the burn of the liquor to the burn in his heart. What would become of her now?
***
After the conversation with her father, wherein Elizabeth spent more time trying to comfort him than receiving comfort she, she left the bookroom and walked slowly to the parlor. At this hour the room was unexpectedly vacant. Mary had set aside this hour of the day for reading. Kitty was off somewhere, playing least in sight from her father, or entertaining Lydia.
Well, now. It seemed that the caring, charitable, Christian inhabitants of Meryton, her lifetime home, had declared her an intentional murderess.
They hated and despised her, not reluctantly, not honestly, based on a life of sin and degeneracy, but with great joy because until the moment Mr. Collins died Elizabeth had been a popular, well-regarded gentlewoman and this, her father reminded her, was the reason the Roman citizens cheered the lions.
Elizabeth sat, and without consulting a page of music, began playing a selection from a light Italian opera. The music comforted and cheered her and for once she concentrated on her fingering to exclusion of the song.
The ever-changing gossip was not far from her mind. Her spirit might rise, even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that, but the truth of the matter was no man would want to marry her. Not now. Not after the gossips were done with her reputation.
Well and good! If that were her fate then she would take comfort from Mr. Bingley’s ongoing attentions to her sister. If the gossip so far had not driven him away, then he would laugh at the suggestion of murder. And when he and Jane married, Elizabeth would retire from society. She would be governess to their many children and teach them to play the pianoforte very ill. She stopped and went back over a section where her fingering was not the best. She should work on her skills, concentrate harder on her work. Yes, she should prepare for her future life.
