Urgently, Darcy
Page 2
“Indeed I was troubled, Lizzy. The whole idea seemed so peculiar that I was sure at first that I should not trouble you about it at all. I was in fact already composing a letter of reply to tell Mr. Fitzwilliam that I could not settle myself to put the strange proposition before you as it seemed so out of the way. That was my resolution, even in the knowledge of all of your difficulties at Longbourn. It was only when I received this morning another letter that I realized that the only right course of action is to let you decide for yourself on how I should proceed.”
“Uncle, I regret being the cause of such a long anguish for you. You know that you could have put the matter to me at once. It is strange indeed and quite possibly out of the way, but I would not have been distressed by it. I’m quite sure that I would have settled on the same view as you did, though, and declined this peculiar suggestion without further ado. It is thoughtful of you to bear so much trouble on my account, Uncle.”
“This new letter, Lizzy, is from the gentleman in question himself, and he now presses for a response. The gentleman declares his name to me, but he asks me that I should not disclose his identity to you.”
“Oh, Uncle. Would I know him by his name, this gentleman?”
“Almost certainly not, Lizzy, which is only one of the many reasons I find his request absurd. You would likely not know his name, but I most certainly do. He is a man of wealth, such that his family name is very well-known in financial circles. Nevertheless, why he would think I might hold his confidence from you I cannot imagine. No, Lizzy, if you wish to know more, I will show you his letter and you will know his name whether it means anything to you or not. If you are not interested in pursuing the matter, then there is perhaps no need.”
"I think that I am not interested, Uncle. What kind of a man would make such a proposition to a stranger, other than a man in the loneliest and most isolated conditions? When Mr. Fitzwilliam described the area of the West from which he hails, he did not refer to it as sparse or scarcely populated. I know no reason to think of a man in the conditions that he described being in desperation for a wife unless he was either so vain and proud or so unattractive in his manners or his personal habits as to be intolerable as a marriage prospect." … "No, Uncle, I believe that your first judgment was correct and that I will have none of him."
“You do not wish to read his letter, then.”
“I see no purpose in it.”
"As always, Lizzy, your judgment is good. Should I counsel you to take four long breaths, or shall I simply throw the letter away?" Elizabeth's eyelids closed as she shook her head. He took a closed envelope from his desk and he cast it into a waste basket under his desk.
Elizabeth’s thoughts brought into her mind an image of a man on the far side of this great land. A man who expended his efforts in pursuit of her. The picture took a hold of her imagination. Whoever it was that had taken such a particular interest in her, it was not a thing that she could very easily dismiss. Elizabeth’s curiosity took a hold and it began to get the better of her. She resolved herself and thrust the letter and its envelope back to him.
“Uncle Gardiner, your first instinct was right as always. The whole prospect is an amusing diversion, but too absurd and outlandish to merit any serious consideration.” As she handed the envelope back to him, a small piece of heavy paper dropped out and fluttered to the dark Turkoman rug. The fragment landed face up. On it was an ink and watercolor sketch of a gentleman.
Elizabeth’s hand went to her chest. “Oh, my.” The gentleman was broad, dark and formidable.
“Oh, that’s the sketch that Colonel Fitzwilliam made of the man.”
Elizabeth stooped to retrieve it. Closer up, the brooding eyes beneath his dark brow impressed Elizabeth powerfully.
“I wonder if perhaps I spoke too hastily, Uncle.” She swallowed to recover as her words stumbled. With something that emerged sounding like a nervous laugh, she said, “The proposal took me by surprise. You say that the other letter is from the gentleman himself?” She blinked, “I find that I am in fact quite interested to read it.”
Her uncle smiled as he retrieved the letter and passed it to her. In his smile, Elizabeth was sure she saw that he had known all along that she would wish to know its content sooner or later.
The envelope and the letter within were of a heavy cream stationery. The handwriting on the outside was a bold, exact, and assertive, elegantly formed script. On the letter itself, the penmanship was no less perfect. The communication was direct to a point of being terse and almost bracing. It read,
Mr. Gardiner,
I had from Mr. Fitzwilliam a recommendation for a young lady with whom you are also acquainted, as I am given to understand. She is described to me as presentable, keen of mind and sharp of wit as well as being adequately educated and accomplished, in social graces at least.
I need first to impress upon you the need for your strict and absolute discretion in all the details of this business, up to and including the withholding from the young lady in question knowledge of my family name. Should we proceed, naturally it will become necessary for her to know of me but I shall advise you when that time arrives.
In the matter, I shall provide transportation to the young lady so that I may interview her and satisfy myself of her suitability. Should she prove wanting or inadequate I will also return her safe and in good health to be restored to her family. Let me say at this point, though, that if my friend and confidant in this matter has been candid and truthful as I have always known him to be, then I have every reason to think that she will do perfectly well.
Please advise me by telegraph immediately as to the young lady's disposition. I must know the soonest possible date when she can make herself available to travel. Needless to say, I shall be responsible for the bearing of any expenses you may incur.
Urgently, and for your secure knowledge alone I am, Fitzwilliam Darcy.
After reading, she sat for a moment with the letter in her lap.
“The man is arrogant and his penmanship is proud and vain. I do not think I would wish to know such a man.”
“Of course, Lizzy,” her uncle was rising to guide her back to the parlor. “Don’t give the matter another thought. I will let both of them know that there is to be no gain in pursuing the matter.”
Holding the little piece of paper tight in her hand, Elizabeth asked, “May I keep the sketch, though?”
After studying her for a moment, her uncle responded “Of course, Lizzy. If it amuses you, why shouldn’t you keep it.”
She was already slipping the portrait into her purse before they left the study.
Her need for tea was by then becoming urgent, and with the return of her aunt, Elizabeth consumed two generous slices of cake. In that time Elizabeth, of course, had to repeat and detail all of the news from Longbourn.
“He’ll tell me what you said,” her aunt indicated her husband with a nod and inclining her eyebrow in his direction, “But he’ll miss out everything that’s important.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice, “Only we ladies know the things that matter,” and she winked.
They discussed the situations of every member of the family, including Elizabeth’s father, though Elizabeth had little news.
“You’ve no knowledge of how long Mr. Collins will keep him in Maine, then?”
“We have no news of it, Aunt.”
“I think Mr. Collins is getting good use of your father, Lizzy. Better than his entitlement, I suspect. Your father can sometimes be too nice for his own good, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth agreed but moved the conversation along to the lists of messages from her mother. Aunt Gardiner was able to supply many of the requests Elizabeth's mother had sent with her, and so, when it was time for her to return home, she was able to take along a good deal of packages.
For the remainder of her visit, though, her mind never completely let go of the picture in her purse and she did not recover entirely from her breathlessness.
4
They sat together on the bed as they always had, in the familiar scent of cottons, down feathers, and the lavender that they kept under their pillows. Whenever there was a confidence to share or anything that one of them needed to discuss, this was where they would come. It was their habit to bring all matters of importance to be shared in the relative seclusion of this very room, as they had ever since they were very young girls.
Jane listened, astonished. When she had heard all, she said, “Of course, you aren’t thinking of going.” Then, peering into Elizabeth’s face, “are you?”
Elizabeth said nothing because truly, she did not know. As it often was, she didn’t know what she thought about things until she had talked them through with her sister.
Jane shook her head. “You know nothing about him, Lizzy!”
“I know that he’s very full of himself.” Elizabeth said, “I know that he is a vain and proud man, proud to a point of arrogance.”
“Then how could you possibly bear him? Really, Lizzy. It’s impossible.”
“It’s impossible. Of course it is.” Elizabeth nodded. It was an absurd notion, of course it was. But something had to be done about their situation. While their father discharged his obligations to Mr. Collins, the transaction seemed to hurt the family finances more than help them as far as Elizabeth could see. With each passing month, their mother seemed more worried about the housekeeping and the outgoings. Elizabeth sighed. “Whatever will we do?”
She thought some more about Mr. Darcy. It was impossible, wasn’t it? “It would be impossible if he didn’t have the guidance and good advice of a kind and insightful wife, perhaps.”
Her sister smiled as she shook her head. “Why would you even be thinking of such a thing, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth took out the watercolor sketch of Mr. Darcy and passed it to her sister.
"Oh," Jane said, coloring up a little. "Goodness."
“According to Colonel Fitzwilliam, the man is tall, broad and strong.” Jane’s eyes gleamed and she pressed her lips together. Elizabeth added, “And he is very rich. Apparently.”
“Lizzy.”
“So, I wonder if the right kind of wife might not be what he needs to guide and coax out the very best in him.”
Jane looked at the picture again. When she looked up, it was with a perplexed frown. “What if there is no ‘best’ to be found, though, Lizzy? What if your impressions of him are all correct and there is nothing to be done about him at all? What then?”
“Then, dear sister, I would have doomed myself.”
The peal of their giggle rose like church bells at a wedding.
“But you are right, of course. I cannot possibly go. Not really. It’s only a fantasy.”
“Why, Lizzy?”
"The journey is long and hazardous. If I was able to travel there and arrive safely, only to discover that he was entirely unbearable and unsuitable, what could I do? I would be trapped there." She paused. "And, most importantly, the biggest reason of all that I can't possibly go.” She took Jane's hand, "is that I would be without my sister, by best-beloved Jane. Who would be there to give me the sound advice that I need? With whom would I share my troubles, my fears, and my joys?" Elizabeth's head shook. Once. Firmly. "Who would make me laugh? No, Jane. I cannot go and that is all. I shall send a note to Uncle Gardiner in the morning."
Jane gripped her hand tightly. “Well, Lizzy, I don’t know. I would be bereft if you were to go, it’s true. I don’t think I could bear to be without you. But you must think about what would be best for you.”
“Nothing could ever be the best for me, Jane, if it caused me to be parted from you.” Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. “I will write to Uncle Gardiner straight after breakfast.”
“I must confess, Lizzy,” Jane’s voice had a wistful drift. “I am a little envious. I can’t help wishing that I were being solicited by a brooding and formidable man of good fortune from afar.”
“But in my place, you would not go.”
“I might not.”
Elizabeth poked her in the chest and said, wide-eyed, “You would!” and they both fell to helpless laughter again.
Jane asked her, “Lizzy, have you talked with Mother about this yet?”
“I confess that I have not. First I needed to talk to you. But I do mean to delay that pleasure for as long as it seems possible to do so.”
“You must though, Lizzy.” Jane’s smile was almost sly. Elizabeth knew that her sister understood why she would not hurry to discuss the matter with their mother. Jane’s lips pulled tight. “You know you have to do it.”
“I do. And yet still I feel no urgent wish to hasten the interview.”
Their laugh fluttered like the wings of two birds at play. Jane was earnest when she said, “I wish that I were traveling far away.”
“That prospect does have its own appeal, Jane. I won’t attempt to deny it.”
Mrs. Bennet was in the withdrawing room. Mary and Kitty sat with her and were pleading for new dresses. When Elizabeth told her mother that she needed to speak with her, Mrs. Bennet frowned at her and said, “Well, go on, you great goose. What is it? Speak, child.”
“It would be better for us to speak in private, Mother.”
Mrs. Bennet became excited. “Mary, Kitty, hurry away now.”
“The dresses,” Mary was insistent, “We must have them, mother.”
And Kitty added, “Lydia is getting a dress,” and she put her hands on her hips. “We must have dresses, too. Lydia is younger.”
Mrs. Bennet’s arms waved, “We cannot discuss this now. We have some matter of Elizabeth’s that will not wait.”
“What is it, Elizabeth?” Mary spoke but slanted her shoulders away, and looked at the carpet instead of directly at her.
Sweetly, Elizabeth told her, “It’s something that you have no need to be concerned about.” Deftly, she maneuvered the two younger girls to the door and out.
With a smile as she shut the door behind her, she began to relate what had passed between herself and her uncle. As the telling of her afternoon progressed, her Mother became more and more agitated until, at the end, she said, "No, Elizabeth. No. Under no circumstances. No. While your father is away, I cannot be without you. Not for a week, not for a day. I cannot hear of it."
“Father has hardly been back here seven days in the year and a half he has been with Mr. Collins doing their business. He may not be back for more than a few visits at any time in the next year. More, even. There is no way to know what it is that Mr. Collins is requiring of him, Mother. What if some gentleman here in Boston were to make a proposal to me?”
“Then save for in the most exceptional of circumstances, if the gentleman in question would not see sense and propose to Jane instead, as is proper, then I should have to write your father and direct him to withhold his permission for the marriage. No. No, Elizabeth. No, I will not entertain the idea of it. Jane must go and that will be an end of the matter.”
Elizabeth wondered whether to tell her mother that she had reached the same conclusion herself, although for entirely different reasons. Before she had a chance to finish considering her response, her mother’s agitated face reddened. Her round frame shook and she puffed as she spoke again.
“Jane must go. That’s it. It’s obvious. Clear as day. Jane is the eldest, and she is the prettiest. Her looks and her pleasant disposition will win this wealthy man over. She will win him and make him want to marry her. Then she will be the one who will be able to save this poor, wretched family. My poor, poor babies. Poor Lydia and poor miserable Kitty. Poor, poor, plain Mary. If not, we will have no chance of escape from financia
l ruin. Nothing is coming in to pay for Lydia’s new clothes or for Mary’s piano lessons and heaven alone knows how I can survive another month without all of my treatments.”
“Mother, the gentleman’s proposition is to me, not to Jane.”
“But how can you go, how can you leave me? I cannot do for a day without my sensible Elizabeth. Who can take charge when I am indisposed? Who else has the clear head to oversee your father’s business affairs? There is no-one here who can help me to take care of little Lydia’s needs and Mary and Kitty. I would see you go and I know that you would be happy and you know that I want nothing more than your happiness, but I simply cannot do without you, child. I cannot and there is an end to it. I would have a heart attack at the first delivery of the mail. I would perish and then who would there be to care for my poor little babies?”
Mrs. Bennet's arms waved and she dug into her puffy bag, pulling out combs and powder puffs and all manner of toiletries until she found her smelling salts.
“I shall write to this man. This gentleman, if that’s what he is. Immediately. Straight away. But I don’t know him. I don’t know who he is. I don’t even know his name or where he lives. Oh, Elizabeth, how can you even be considering this hare-brained scheme? Where can you be thinking of going? I can’t think what has come over you, girl.”
Her face sank and her body fell limp as she held the bottle out, weakly, to Elizabeth. After she unscrewed the top, Elizabeth held the bottle out at arm's length. She turned her face as far away as possible while keeping the bottle and her mother's face in sight. She wished to avoid the vapor herself as much as she could but she didn't want to push the bottle into Mrs. Bennet's nose.
Her mother roused and said, “But you said something about that Mr. Fitzwilliam. I will write to him. He seemed a very sensible gentleman, I know that I can rely upon him. He can be trusted. That’s it. I’ll tell him that you are needed here and that I cannot possibly do without you.”