by D. L. Carter
Mr. Bennet nodded and tossed down his shawl.
“Good answer, young man,” he declared before handing the well stirred coffee to Bingley and going to the door.
“Jane! Jane!” Mr. Bennet ceased his shouting and turned back to his visitor. “My daughters, you may have observed, are strong willed creatures, and hold their own opinions. But, for what it will be worth, I shall promote your cause. Grant me a moment to speak with her and you may make your appeal.”
“Thank you sir,” said an increasingly nervous Bingley, and then he heard the sound of Lydia’s voice.
“Why must I go upstairs?” protested Lydia. “It is only Mr. Bingley and he is of no account.”
“Ah, Mr. Bennet,” said Bingley, reluctant to speak of unpleasant matters and spoil the moment. “Speaking, as we were, of strong willed young ladies. Your daughter, Lydia. Has anyone spoken to you of her being seen out and about in Meryton?”
“Has she now?” replied Mr. Bennet, not particularly surprised. “Yes. I do know. I imagine I could name the days and the hours, the house being silent in her absence. However, I shall speak to her, again.”
Then he opened the door in response to Jane’s hesitant knock.
Jane stepped through, saw Mr. Bingley, and blushed. Mr. Bennet took her by the hand.
“My dear daughter. I have some advice for you, if you will hear it?”
“Certainly, papa,” she replied, her gaze flicking back and forth between the men.
“Don’t be more of a fool than necessary. And remember, our cousin Mr. Collins taught us, life is very, very short! Here, my girl, is a good man who wishes to be your husband. Be a good girl and put him out of my misery!” And with that he quit the room.
***
Mr. Bennet stood in the corridor listening to the scratch and settle of his old house. Distantly he could hear his wife’s querulous commands to the cook. Mary was tormenting the pianoforte, a more cheerful composition undertaken with reluctance at her father’s command.
Somehow that girl managed to make A Dance in May sound like a funeral in December.
Kitty’s voice sounded from the breakfast room, issuing a greeting to Elizabeth.
And distantly …the gardener cursing.
Nothing more.
Dammit. Bingley was in the right. Lydia was not only absent from the house she was absenting herself at will.
With a sigh he departed in search of his wife. He had news to please her and news to set her nerves to fluttering.
***
Lydia returned an hour later to a house in shambles. Not very surprisingly Jane had accepted Bingley and her mother rejoiced. Lydia felt a distant touch of approval of the match. She had seen the fine feathers Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst paraded about wearing and was quite convinced Lydia would display that finery better. They were too plain to look well in the silks and lace and feathers and the London fashions.
A rich, complacent brother-in-law was all to the good.
After listening at the door long enough to be certain of the gossip - and tucking it away in her mind to be relayed to Aunt Phillips later, Lydia proceeded to her room. She had a page or two of lessons to complete to satisfy her father. He would not release her from captivity until he was certain she was reformed and she had returned, disappointed that Wickham had not come as planned to their rendezvous, to complete them.
Only let Jane marry Bingley, persuade him to be generous to his new sisters and Lydia would be happy.
Except, Lydia crept up the back stairs to her chamber to discover her father seated before the door.
Inside her chamber Lydia discovered the room had been stripped of all her decorations, beads, ribbons and fripperies. A bare bed, plain quilts and a single chair and table with her schoolwork set out was all that remained.
Lydia was no longer happy.
***
The constable of Hunsford rode up front with the coachman. Another man Darcy did not know rode in the footman’s perch. Both carried heavy chains and iron cuffs and did not hesitate to let these horrible things be seen. Possibly the second was Meryton’s constable recruited to take Elizabeth away should Darcy fail in his arguments this morning.
As the Bennet carriage swayed to a halt the jury gathered round, peering in the windows and annoying the horses.
Mr. Bennet was the first to descend and frown at his friends, his neighbors. Then he turned his back on the throng to extend a hand into the carriage. Miss Jane descended next and was quickly claimed by a beaming and proud Mr. Bingley.
Mrs. Bennet, pale and dressed in deep mourning, accepted her husband’s hand. The delicate black lace veil concealed her features but the way she clutched her handkerchief communicated her distress.
Finally Miss Elizabeth descended. Her mourning gown flattered her creamy complexion and her chocolate curls danced beneath her black trimmed bonnet. Darcy smiled to see her, a change in expression that did not pass his aunt’s attention.
“Why is that woman not in chains?” shrieked Lady Catherine, and had the reward of seeing Darcy go bone pale.
“Because she is innocent of any crime!” roared her father, and then he leant against his wife, pale and wheezing.
Mrs. Bennet clutched at her husband, supporting his weight until Elizabeth could take his other side.
Darcy started forward. Until this moment he had not given a moment's thought to Mr. Bennet’s age or health or how he was enduring the many slings and arrows cast at his family.
Before Darcy could reach the family both Jane and Elizabeth were at their father’s side, releasing their mother and offering him what strength they had.
“Quickly now,” cried Bingley to his servants. “Fetch Mr. Bennet inside. A settee, bring one to the ballroom. A glass of brandy for Mr. Bennet. All of you, please come in and we shall settle this matter once and for all.”
“Optimist,” muttered Darcy.
Darcy followed along behind Miss Jane and Elizabeth. As they approached the stair with their father between them Mr. Bennet tried to lift one foot, then stumbled against them, almost falling back a step before they caught him.
Darcy gasped, remembering where he had seen a stumble just like that before, and turned to face a started Caroline.
“Miss Bingley. I have heard you comment more than once on Mr. Collins’s clumsiness. Indeed, in the ballroom you were overheard extending your pity to poor Miss Eliza that she must stand up with such a man.”
Startled, Caroline recovered herself sufficiently that she let out a small giggle.
“Well, of course. It was a ridiculous sight. Mr. Collins with his pretensions and posturing. First he turned in the wrong direction, and then he got his feet muddled and fell. Poor Miss Eliza. How she blushed for him.” For a moment Caroline’s habit of snide remarks and wicked humor re-emerged but she paused, startled to hear her own words and blushed for herself for the first time in her life, glancing toward a sour-faced Lady Catherine before continuing in a quieter tone. “That is to say, he made a very poor showing during the dance, missing steps and I was concerned from time to time that his stumbling manner of walking and general clumsiness would cause an injury to another guest. He seemed to walk sideways from time to time, as if he could not trust his footing.”
“Indeed,” said Darcy. “We all took note of it.” He glanced about the gathering. “You all, well many of you, were present at this ball. Either outside or within. You marked it, did you not Sir Lucas, the manner of Mr. Collins’ walking?”
“I did,” said Sir William, frowning at the memory. “I was behind him in the receiving line going up the stairs, as it happens. He would advance with his left foot and then bring up the right to keep it company. Such an odd way of walking, I said to Lady Lucas. Very strange.”
“Yes,” said Darcy. “And the rest of you. Did you see him walking about the town? Did he stumble left and right? I have heard that he tried to pass off one stumbling event as a deep bow to a scullery maid.”
Several men laughed. Tha
t story had made the rounds.
“What is the point of all this?” demanded Lady Catherine.
“The point, aunt, that you yourself should also confirm, is that Mr. Collins was, as Shakespeare said, “Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere.” There was a general laugh. “Mr. Collins presented himself before this community of Meryton as a youth desiring respect and earning it not at all. I observed all of you observing him. Sir Lucas, you laughed behind your hand while Mr. Collins was trying and failing to flatter me with his attentions. And Mr. Bennet, content to laugh at the absurdity of the world, must admit a relationship with the fool and permit him hearth room.” Mr. Darcy turned to the recovering Mr. Bennet and bowed. “You had my sympathy, by the way.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, weakly.
“And next you all heard of Mr. Collins was that he was dead in a fall down a flight of stairs. Oh, but instead of turning to each other and saying the man’s clumsiness, that you have either observed or heard reported, was the cause, and to repeat the tale, which was a funny enough story to enjoy, you allowed your mind to turn to an evil interpretation. That he was done to death. What nonsense!”
“The truth!” declared a rather confused Lady Catherine.
“Again Shakespeare is useful,” shot back Darcy, “for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. You all decided to place the worst sort of interpretation on the events for your own entertainment. After all, Miss Elizabeth Bennet is much respected and admired. It isn’t as if what you said would do her any harm! Everyone would know it is not true. But it would be a good joke while the story lasted.” He glared about the assemblage. “Except by saying it, you forced the truth to change and become what you have said. Evil, vicious gossips, each and every one of you. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, the which in every language I pronounce, stuffing the ears of men with false reports! Be ashamed, gentlemen. Be very ashamed for all the damage you have done to the Bennet family!”
Silence reigned while those familiar with Shakespeare marveled at Mr. Darcy’s memory and the others waited for instruction. Should they stay or go? Should they go inside or leave?
Eventually Mr. Darcy took pity on them and addressed himself to the pair of magistrates and coroner and without suggesting they should go inside to either the parlor or ballroom said: “Gentlemen, you left us last night to review the inquisition in the matter of the death of Mr. Collins. What have you determined?”
“I reviewed the proceedings of the coroner’s court and cannot find that it deviates at all from the accepted forms,” said Sir Michael, with an apologetic look toward Lady Catherine. “Now, with the additional information from this morning I am more inclined toward accepting the verdict of Mr. Jeffers’s coroners court of inquiry. Mr. Collins died in an accident as a consequence of his own clumsiness.”
“Thank God,” sighed Mrs. Bennet and promptly fainted into a startled Mr. Bingley’s arms.
***
Mr. Bennet was hastily taken into Netherfield by his family and the apothecary.
Mr. Darcy remained behind to address the jury.
“Gentleman, this days work is not yet done. I insist that you will all render apologies to the Bennet family and begin to make recompense. You will rehearse the truth and begin to spread that about to your friends and neighbors. Your entertainment at the expense of the Bennets is done.”
“I shall begin,” said Mr. Prescott, stepping forward and folding his hands as if upon his pulpit. “I hold the greater shame of not reprimanding you all from the pulpit, as is my duty for your baseless gossip. I am very sorry for the sermons of the last two weeks, as they have encouraged you all to think meanly of the Bennet family. Miss Elizabeth in particular is owed my apology. She has committed no sin in the eyes of God or man.”
Mr. Prescott bent his head to lead his parishioners in prayer.
Lady Catherine snorted and tightened her grip on the curate at her side.
“Darcy. Attend me,” declared Lady Catherine. “We have no part in this nonsense. Send for my carriage. We shall depart at once.” She shot a glare toward the constable and magistrate who had failed her utterly. “You two should start walking. Tis a goodly way to the coaching inn.”
Darcy bowed in her direction and vanished into the house. Bingley, taking mercy on the two rejected by Lady Catherine, offered to have his own coach brought round to take them to the Meryton Inn.
Chapter Twenty-two
In the parlor of Netherfield, the family was engaged in a quiet celebration. In addition to thwarting Lady Catherine’s attack, there was the engagement of Bingley to Jane to be talked over and acknowledged. Mrs. Bennet rallied herself enough to be almost as silly as usual.
“Oh, my dearest Jane, I am so happy. So happy. I knew you should not be so beautiful for nothing. And Bingley. Oh, how proud we are to have you join our family. Such a good, kind man. Oh, let me kiss you. Mr. Bennet, is this not wonderful news? We have a son!”
“So I see,” said Mr. Bennet slowly from the settle where the apothecary was fussing over him.
“That is hardly welcoming,” scolded his wife.
“I hope you will excuse me,” said Mr. Bennet, heavily. “I am fatigued by the events of the day.”
Mrs. Bennet dismissed her husband's pallor and fatigue with a wave and set about insisting wine and refreshments be fetched for the celebrants. Miss Bingley claimed a headache and retreated to her chamber. She was not missed.
“Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy stepping closer. “A glass of brandy might serve you better?”
“Mr. Darcy, you have been everything kind but, forgive me, at the moment I cannot give you the time or attention to adequately express my thanks.”
“The cause of justice demanded it, sir, and I was honored to be of service…” he hesitated, “and very glad to be successful.”
Mr. Bennet gave him a faint smile even as his wife shrieked and rushed about demanding congratulations from all her daughters and servants - that being all that was available to her.
“I must leave soon,” continued Darcy. “I have tasks to undertake to see that the involvement of my aunt is at an end.”
Mr. Bennet nodded.
“But, before I go, might I have a moment's speech with Miss Elizabeth?”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet gathering his waning strength. “You are the sort of man to whom I can refuse nothing, under the usual pass of circumstances, but today? Forgive me, I think it best that you offer Elizabeth your general goodwill in the presence of all her family.”
“Sir, I beg you…”
“No, Mr. Darcy. Please, no. At the moment you are her hero and I do not regret it. Indeed, I thank you, but be honest. We should be honest, we men together. You are not in a position to offer her anything more than your good wishes. Give them and depart and I shall wish you well in the future.”
With a sigh Darcy bowed. The few steps he took to reach Elizabeth’s side seemed a thousand miles and yet accomplished too soon. This was like to be the last time he called upon her and he set himself to memorizing her features. Her smile was warm, still welcoming and his heart ached.
“Miss Elizabeth. Please accept my best wishes for your future, your health and happiness. It has been my honor to know you and to aid you. If, in the future I may be of service …”
“Mr. Darcy,” interrupted Mr. Bennet before Elizabeth could respond.
“Indeed.” He inclined his head to both of them. “God bless you all.”
He stalked down the stairs to where his horse waited impatiently. Elizabeth stood with her father watching as he left, her hand half lifted to wave but he did not look back.
Lizzy could not hold back the tears that filled her eyes. “Papa? Papa, why were you both so odd? Why did he leave?”
“Oh, my dear girl, I am hoping that you respect Mr. Darcy… and nothing more.”
“More? What more can there be?”
“Do not think to fool me, daughter. I have known you
from your first breath.”
Elizabeth turned and took a few steps down the path recently trod by Mr. Darcy.
“I admire him greatly, father. He is everything a man ought to be, intelligent, patient, caring. Strong.” Her voice faltered and faded away. Tears stood on her cheeks until she brushed them impatiently away.
“And you love him.”
“I would like to, father, if you have no objections.”
“Myself, I would rejoice to see you placed with so fine a man and know that you can easily respect your partner in life, but, my dear, I must tell you Mr. Darcy is betrothed.”
“Betrothed? But papa, I have heard nothing of this. And Miss Bingley, would she be pursuing him so very much if she knew?”
“It is a recent event,” said Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy informed me that his aunt has promoted an alliance between him and her daughter and, as a price paid for her to relinquish her persecution of our family he has extended his hand to his cousin.”
“Oh, papa, is there no end to his goodness?”
To his surprise, and perhaps greater pain, Elizabeth did not cry. Instead she went to a window and stood staring off into the distance. Mr. Bennet was convinced that for the remainder of her life his Elizabeth's heart would live in Derbyshire.
***
Later than morning saw Lady Catherine’s carriage, with her footmen, magistrate, constable seated on roof and drivers box - and her newly chosen vicar of Hunsford inside with the Lady, trundling through Meryton accompanied by Mr. Darcy on horseback. The blinds on Lady Catherine’s travel coach were quite firmly closed. The town of Meryton had severely disappointed Lady Catherine and she would not grant them any condescension.
Darcy, however, looked about himself fixing each place in his memory. There was the place where Miss Elizabeth shopped for her ribbons and bows. There was the lending library frequently honored with her attendance. There, his lip curled, was the church whose fellowship had scorned her and where in the fullness of time she would be wed. He closed his eyes against the pain. She had been redeemed. Not immediately but in time her intrinsic goodness would shine through and her neighbors would, blushing for their own foolishness, accept her back to the fold and pretend that the shaming never happened.
