“Come here my child,” he said, “sit by me, there is much to discuss.”
Mr Bennet indicated the chair adjacent to his own, and Elizabeth sat where he bade and waited for him to continue. Knowing they had in the past shared a joke at the expense of her intended, Elizabeth expected her father to question why she had accepted him.
“You are aware that Mr Darcy called on me yesterday, to seek my consent for your marriage. He assured me that when we spoke, you would be in full agreement with him. That you have, in fact, already given him your reply in the affirmative.”
He rose and began to pace the floor directly in front of her. Elizabeth knew he had not yet finished so offered no reply.
“Are you out of your senses to be accepting this man Lizzie, have you not always hated him?” Her father pressed on, “Oh fear not, I have given my consent. He is the kind of man you would never refuse anything but are you sure this is what you want Lizzie?” He sat down and took her hand. “He is rich enough to be sure, and you will have fine clothes and carriages a-plenty, but will he make you happy?” Her father looked at her for an answer.
“You believe me indifferent to him father?” she asked tentatively.
“Not if you tell me it is not so, but we all know him to be a proud and unpleasant man. Do you know otherwise my dear?”
In truth, he knew his Lizzie would not marry for convenience only, yet he had seen no evidence of affection towards Mr Darcy before. Thus his visit and request were a great shock. Mrs Bennet had been unbearable in her praise of Darcy since she heard the news. And poor Mr Bingley had been quite forgotten, well almost. Every week she would lament how ill Jane had been used by him while encouraging her not to give up hope. She could not be so beautiful for nothing.
“I do father, and I like him very much, now. Though I did not always find him so agreeable, of late I have seen a different side of him. While I was in Kent, he came to stay with his aunt, and I saw him more at ease when surrounded by his own family. He is intelligent, well-read and an astute businessman. I also observed a much kinder and more thoughtful man, one I could respect. Indeed, his affection for his sister is as deep as yours is for me, Papa, and this must be a testament of a good man, do you not agree?” Elizabeth asked, purposefully wording her reply.
“Well, then my dear I have no more to say. If this is the case, and you feel assured of your happiness, he deserves you.”
He spoke these last words tenderly and leaning forward to kiss his beloved child.
Unaccustomed to sharing such loving moments with his children, he turned away, cleared his throat, and said dismissively,
“Run along now child, your mother will be pacing outside in anticipation of your emergence. I believe we shall have to endure talk of nothing but weddings and lace from now on.”
Smiling, she left the study to find her mother waiting outside as expected. Before she could protest fatigue from the journey, Mrs Bennet took hold of her hand and drew her into the parlour.
“Come, Lizzie, do hurry up. We have so much to do and so little time to do it in. Why the very idea, how am I to do all that is needed in only six weeks? To start with, Mr Hill will need to fatten and slaughter at least two pigs for the wedding breakfast. Then I will need to order quails and oyster for goodness knows how many guests! New outfits must be made for us all, and, of course, there is your dress Lizzie, which must reflect your new station in life. First, though, we must send the invitations and book the church, and the choir, and the bell ringers. Oh, heavens! How are we ever to be ready in time?” lamented Mrs Bennet.
Elizabeth had stopped listening at six weeks. Pulling back on her mother’s arm to bring her to a halt, she enquired,
“Six weeks Mama, what do you mean only six weeks?” Mrs Bennet turned and looked at her daughter with incredulity.
“Why it was Mr Darcy, my dear, he has set the date of six weeks hence and would not be challenged on the subject. When your father suggested a six-month engagement with a spring wedding, he would not hear of it. In fact, he was most insistent. Why, if it had been possible, I am sure he would have said a mere three weeks, just enough time for the banns to be read. He insists you are to be married before Christmas. Now come along girl, we have so much to do and so little time to do it in,” she said pulling Elizabeth along behind her.
Elizabeth pursed her lips together. How typically insufferable of the man, this was something they should have discussed, or at the very least, he should have mentioned his desire to have an engagement of so short a duration. Clearly, he had no idea of all that was involved. And how would it look to be wed with such haste, as well as leaving her to find out in such a fashion, it was inexcusable! She hoped he might be dissuaded from such a course. And where was he? Perhaps he was seeking refuge at Netherfield, waiting for her to calm down before showing his face. No, she knew he was no coward. Maybe he had chosen to take lodgings in Meryton; it was closer to Longbourn after all?
Elizabeth turned and asked her mother,
“Speaking of Mr Darcy Mama, did he say where he was staying at present?”
“I believe he will be staying at Netherfield for the intervening period. Though he did indicate that he had business in town today, he assured me he would return to dine with us tonight.”
So that was why her mother had sent Lydia and Kitty to Meryton, to provide a feast of the proverbial fatted calf. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Well, now he was to be part of the Bennet family, he would have to become accustomed to her mother’s excessive fawning. Then it struck her; he would not be a Bennet, she would be a Darcy. Only six weeks with her family before leaving Longbourn to start her new life in Derbyshire. The familiar ring of Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be no more, replaced with Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley. Elizabeth hoped she would do it justice.
The rest of the day went by in a whirl. Her mother had already chosen a selection of dress designs, made a guest list and selected a variety of dishes for the wedding feast. All this in just a day, Elizabeth marvelled. She was exceedingly pleased when her mother finally insisted she retire for a nap before her betrothed arrived. Having caught a man like Darcy, she must now ensure she kept him, her mother had said. Elizabeth was too tired to argue. The journey home had fatigued her more than she’d realised, and so she gladly went to her room.
Elizabeth removed her dress and placed it on a chair before happily climbing under the warm blankets. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, and no Darcy to give her the answers. Why had Darcy insisted on being married in only six weeks? A December wedding was vulnerable to the weather. It seemed indecently hasty to her. Why had he gone to town, leaving her to face the inquisition of her parents alone? What did he expect of her as his wife? When would she meet his sister? Oh, it was most vexing of him to leave her with no indication of what he was thinking, or indeed planning for their future! She punched the pillow in frustration; until he returned, there was no point in fretting.
The calling of her name roused her from her slumber. Elizabeth realised she must have slept longer than she had intended because Jane was gently shaking her by the shoulder.
“Lizzie, Lizzie, it is time to rise and dress for dinner. Mama has sent me to help you, and she is most insistent on what you are to wear tonight. It is to be the white muslin with the yellow daisies, with matching ribbons in your hair.”
The irony that her mother had chosen that particular dress was not lost on either Jane or Elizabeth. Daisies were a symbol of loyal love, faith and innocence; whether Darcy knew this, or would even care, she did not know. As Jane began to brush Elizabeth’s hair, she whispered in her ear,
“Mr Darcy is to dine with us, are you not excited, Lizzie?”
Elizabeth smiled, offering no reply, she merely continued to hand Jane the pins for her hair. Excitement was not what she felt; mild annoyance better described what she was feeling at present. Jane decided she must take this opportunity to ask her sister a vital question concerning her betrothed. She hesitated, t
hen asked,
“Lizzie, I know we have little time now, but answer me one thing before we join the others, am I to be happy he will be my brother?”
Elizabeth could see no point in burdening Jane with how her wanton behaviour had resulted in her betrothal.
“You may take pleasure in welcoming Mr Darcy as your brother Jane. Now come, or we will start the evening with a scolding from Mama.”
CHAPTER 6
When Jane and Elizabeth entered the sitting room, they were surprised to see the rest of the family already gathered there. Her mother was seated in her favourite chair, the one that afforded her the best view of the room. Lydia and Kitty sat together on the divan by the window, and Mary sat at the table with her book of sermons open. Even their father was present. He was standing in front of the hearth with his coat tails thrown over his arms, warming himself by the fire. The November cold had found its way into his bones, he said in jest.
It was not Mr Bennet’s normal practise to join the ladies before dinner. Usually, one of the girls was hastily despatched to recover him from his study in time to say Grace. The fact that he was already in attendance marked the austerity of the occasion.
The chairs to either side of Mrs Bennet had been left vacant, clearly for the two remaining sisters. Elizabeth gave an inward sigh; her mother had certainly gone to great lengths to impress their guest this evening. Who, she noticed as the mantel clock chimed eight, appeared to be running late. Knowing Darcy to be a stickler for punctuality, this was most out of character for him.
Before she had time to expand on this thought, the unmistakable sound of a carriage on the gravel drive could be heard. Her mother indicated where they were to sit, leaving just enough time for her to give everyone a final glance of approval before Hill knocked and announced their guest.
“Mr Darcy sir,” Hill said, then moved aside to allow him entry. The Bennet women stood and executed their curtsies in unison while Mr Bennet gave the curtest of nods in acknowledgement of his arrival.
“Mr Bennet, Mrs Bennet, and Miss Bennets,” Darcy said.
As he gained entrance to the sitting room, he paused to make a slight bow, instantly seeking out Elizabeth and holding her gaze for the briefest of moments.
Elizabeth felt her heart begin to race, and her breathing felt constricted. This was their first meeting since their betrothal had been approved, and he knew she would be anxious. His glance had silently offered her his support.
Both Elizabeth and Darcy were also conscious that Mr Bennet would be observing how they interacted together. Along with the entire household, thought Elizabeth. Darcy straightened and gave no one, least of all Mrs Bennet, the chance to speak before he began his apology.
“I beg you would forgive my tardy arrival Sir, Ma’am, but my business in town was of a most urgent nature and could not be delayed. It took slightly longer than I anticipated,” he said, addressing Elizabeth’s parents, “and I am afraid I must ask your indulgence in one other matter if I may. I have brought another guest to sit at the table with us tonight. With your permission Ma’am?” he asked the lady of the house.
Well! Mrs Bennet thought, still as high and mighty as ever. Conscious of the good fortune Lizzie and Darcy’s marriage would bring to the rest of her family, she tempered her reply.
“Why, of course, Mr Darcy, bring as many friends as you like. We are a sociable family and would welcome any acquaintance of yours to our table.” she fawned insincerely.
Wishing for the evening to go as smoothly as possible, Mr Bennet added his own comment,
“I am sure whatever delicacies cook has prepared for us, it will stretch to accommodate one more person my dear.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush at her mother’s artificial pleasure, and she looked under her lashes at Darcy, gauging his reaction. Surprisingly, a warm smile graced his lips with no trace of the insolent sneer he usually wore, especially when near to her mother.
He excused himself with the promise to return momentarily. As the door opened and Darcy re-entered, they all strained to see past him, wondering who would follow. When his guest emerged from the portal, loud gasps of recognition and approval rippled around the room. Getting to her feet, Mrs Bennet gushed,
“Why Mr Bingley, how very good to see you, you are most welcome sir, most welcome indeed.”
She had managed to drown out everyone else’s salutation; her genuine pleasure at his arrival was clear to all. She decided, having returned Mr Bingley to their midst, even Mr Darcy’s tardy arrival could be forgiven.
“And you too Mr Darcy, you are most welcome,” and she gave a deep curtsy.
“Bingley,” was all Mr Bennet bothered to say, for he knew he stood no chance of being heard while the women fawned over the young buck.
Elizabeth looked at Jane and saw a rose blush stain her cheeks while a shy smile formed on her lips as she looked at their unexpected guest. Bingley only had eyes for Jane and was clearly as much in love with her as ever. So, Elizabeth mused, Bingley was his urgent business in London. He must have travelled to town in order to make a clean breast of it to him. It appeared he had taken her reproofs to heart and was trying to make amends.
Elizabeth glanced at her mother. The look of anticipation on her face, at the possibility of another daughter becoming engaged, was evident. Judging by her sister’s countenance, she was not wrong in her expectations. Jane loved Charles still.
At that moment, Mrs Hill entered and announced dinner.
The evening repast was a lively event, with the ladies chattering about wedding preparations, and the gentlemen attempting to steer the conversation to more masculine pursuits. They failed miserably. After dessert, the ladies excused themselves and went to the withdrawing room for coffee. The men remained in the dining room to enjoy some of Mr Bennet’s finest port. The atmosphere and conversation had an over formal air. All three men were on edge though for very different reasons. Darcy was well aware that Elizabeth’s father was not fond of him and eyed him with open suspicion. Bingley could hardly contain himself and wanted to ask Mr Bennet for his consent to marry Jane immediately. But he had yet to propose to her and so must be content with asking if he may call early tomorrow.
Mr Bennet surveyed the two men who had sat at his table, ate his food, and now wanted one of his daughters. Both were very rich to be sure, but that was where the similarity ended. He knew Bingley had a good heart, and displayed a cheerful disposition, and it was obvious that Jane loved him deeply. When he made his offer for her tomorrow, he would bestow the lad with a favourable answer. Darcy was another matter. Mr Bennet considered himself to be a good judge of character. Until now, he was content with his view of Darcy as a proud and unpleasant fellow, used to having his own way in all things. Yet Lizzie had assured him otherwise and was he to doubt her word? Yes, he admitted, it vexed him greatly that he could not define Darcy’s character better.
Presently, the men joined the women for coffee, and all were vastly relieved to do so. The stilted conversation on shooting and fishing had dried up very quickly, and long, pregnant pauses had followed, along with much foot shuffling by Bingley. In the dining room, Mr Bennet again took up his position in front of the fire while Darcy and Bingley joined their ladies.
After such a disastrous half hour, Darcy decided to make a concerted effort to engage Mr Bennet on a subject he knew he enjoyed, books.
During a lull in the conversation, he turned to Elizabeth’s father and asked,
“Mr Bennet, Miss Elizabeth has imparted to me that you share my passion for literature. Might I enquire if you have purchased anything of interest of late, perhaps something you could recommend?”
Mr Bennet looked at him square on. He saw no deceit in his face, but a genuine interest, and decided to throw the lad a line. Elizabeth approved of him so he would make an effort to understand him better.
“I have Mr Darcy, one I have found to be well-written and most amusing. The Miseries of Human Life by a Mr James Beresford, no doubt we co
uld all find something in its text to relate to, don’t you think? I’d be interested in having your thoughts on it, sir. Lizzie, take Mr Darcy through to the library, you may wait while he reads a few pages. Then come back and give me your verdict, sir.”
Darcy masked his surprise better than Elizabeth at this unexpected opportunity to enjoy a few moments alone together. When her father registered the look of concern on her face, he interjected,
“Fear not Lizzie, Mr Darcy is a gentleman. Run along and don’t keep the fellow on tenterhooks. I would know what he thinks before the night is over.”
Elizabeth picked up a candlestick and led the way to Mr Bennet’s book room. Shutting the door behind them, Darcy let his body fall against it.
Alone at last. Had it only been two days since he had held her in his arms, tasted those sweet lips? Would she favour him with such a reward tonight, he wondered?
Elizabeth set the candle down on her father’s desk and walked to the long wall that was filled with bookshelves. Tracing her finger along the spines, she pretended to search for the required text. Aware that Darcy was watching her, she decided to give no credence to his observance. If she turned, he would surely notice how shallow her breathing had become and the blush that stained her cheeks. This excitement she felt when in his presence was new and unnerving, and she seemed unable to control it.
While Darcy waited for her to attend him, he wondered, has she missed me too? Growing impatient, he opened and closed the door again, but still, she showed no sign of acknowledging him. Would that she paid such attention to me as those blasted books. Had he not rode to town and fessed all to Bingley to put right his interference and then suffered a severe tongue lashing for his trouble? He had then ridden hard back to Longbourn with Charles in tow so he could keep his dinner engagement with her family. Though she had been right about many of his faults, could she not at least acknowledge that he was trying his best to address them?
Enough he decided, their time together was short, and all too soon they would be obliged to return.
Mr Darcy's Struggle Page 4
