by Jennifer Joy
Under his breath, Darcy said, "I'm sending for my doctor. Expect our call tonight or at first light."
"Please, Mr. Darcy, do not act so hurriedly. I am certain it is nothing."
"Sir, I am concerned. Imagine how Elizabeth feels; how all your daughters will feel knowing you are ill."
Mr. Bennet wiped the film of sweat off his brow, attempting to chuckle and make light of his condition. "Their mother has raised them to fear my passing."
Darcy had not agreed with Mrs. Bennet on most subjects, but he could hardly see any benefit to Mr. Bennet’s daughters if their father were to die. Especially the unattached. "Unless one of them is willing to marry Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet’s fears were well-founded. And even then, Mr. Collins would be free to choose whom to allow to remain at Longbourn."
Sitting taller and straightening his shoulders, Mr. Bennet sipped his brandy. "While I realize the futility of changing your mind once it is made, I beg of you not to act so soon. I shall be well tomorrow."
"And if you are not?"
"Then, I will allow you to do as you please."
Darcy narrowed his eyes, examining Mr. Bennet and finding him sincere. "I will call on the morrow to see for myself."
"You do not trust my judgment?" asked Mr. Bennet with a weak smile.
Smiling in turn, Darcy said, "What man is to be trusted when he is ill? We are poor patients and do more to try the tolerance of our nurses than ten women twice as ill."
"And from whence comes such wisdom? Mrs. Bennet complained of the same numerous times."
It was progress to see Mr. Bennet speak of his deceased wife without his chin quivering or his eyes filling with tears.
"I remember my mother saying as much." His dear, enduring mother who had been much too good for the life she had married into. It brought Darcy comfort to know he had brought her happiness. Georgiana, too, would have brought Mother endless joy … had she survived the birth.
"Are you well, Mr. Darcy? Perhaps it is you who needs the doctor," suggested Mr. Bennet.
Changing his expression, Darcy said, "Death is an enemy. It takes those whom we hold close much too soon and picks its victims in such a way as to inflict the most pain.”
Mr. Collins, who seemed intent on joining them from across the table, took half the tablecloth along with him, toppling glasses of Sir William's best brandy over to soak through the linen.
Mr. Bennet peeked over his spectacles at his heir, saying in a low voice, "I know it is wicked of me, but why could someone like that not be the next victim? Why must death choose those whom would be missed?" He bunched his cheeks as he contemplated the man who would eventually inherit his estate. "I do not think anybody would miss him."
"Take care what you wish for, Mr. Bennet. Who is to say the next male in line is any better?"
Mr. Bennet sighed, a hint of color brightening his face. "Oh, he is. He is infinitely better."
"Then see that nothing happens to Mr. Collins during his stay in Meryton. With all the recent murders, you would be the prime suspect were he to suffer harm."
Sitting back in his chair, Mr. Bennet said, "More is the pity. What a nuisance that I should place too much value on life to make such an evil deed possible.”
Mr. Bennet nodded to the bane of his existence, who took a seat in the empty chair next to him.
Mr. Collins leaned forward, cleared his throat importantly, and squirmed in his seat as if he could only utter the words he wished to say once he found a comfortable position.
Mr. Bennet pinched his lips together — an example of forbearance worthy of imitation.
Darcy nearly laughed at the conundrum into which Mr. Bennet had backed himself. Mr. Bennet would be the last person in the world to cause bodily harm to anyone — even a man so disagreeable as Mr. Collins. It was simply too much work. And Mr. Bennet was renowned for avoiding any decision or exertion beyond what was absolutely necessary.
Sir William stood between Bingley and Richard, patting their shoulders enthusiastically and putting an end to whatever Mr. Collins had thought to say. Together, the gentlemen crossed the room, signaling that it was time to join the ladies and very near time for the newlyweds to depart for their wedding tours.
Darcy had already given great thought to his and Elizabeth's tour. She did not know much of England, and they would have to cross a lot of it to arrive at Pemberley.
First, they would stay in London at Darcy House for the season. All the best theatrical works and expositions were on display then. When she had had her fill of excitement, they would turn north, traveling at their leisure and stopping wherever she wished until they reached the most beautiful piece of land in the country (not that Darcy was partial).
They would walk the grounds of Pemberley every day and end their sojourns with tea in the library. Elizabeth would love the library … which reminded him to add a stop at Hatchards bookshop during their London stay.
The ladies were pleased to receive the gentlemen in the music room. Miss Bingley exhibited her talent on the pianoforte while Mrs. Hurst struggled to turn the pages in time. Mrs. Bingley stuck by her father's side from the moment they entered the room, no doubt, to ascertain the state of his health before departing. Mr. Bennet was a far better actor than Darcy had suspected him capable of being. He smiled often and patted his newly married daughter's hand repeatedly to disguise the tremor in his hands.
Finally, it was time to depart.
Elizabeth found her way to Darcy’s side as the wedding party waited for their carriages. Bingley, after a brief conversation with his wife, joined them.
"Darcy, Miss Elizabeth, do you consider it best for us to postpone our trip? My Jane cannot bear leaving her father when he appears ill, and I could not separate her from her family if we can be of assistance."
"Think nothing of it, Bingley," said Darcy, with a nod of agreement from Elizabeth.
"No, Darcy. I see how it is. Mr. Bennet has been greatly affected by the death of his wife and it would not be kind to take all of his daughters away from him at once when they can offer him comfort. We had thought it enough to return in a month’s time, but perhaps we ought not to leave at all."
Elizabeth smiled at her brother-in-law and pulled Mrs. Bingley close to her free side. "You are very kind, Mr. Bingley. If you are to return in a short month, you had best enjoy the time you have with Jane to the fullest. Father is merely overwhelmed and we will see him put to right."
Wrapping her arms around her sister, Darcy overheard Elizabeth whisper to her, "You must enjoy your time with your husband. Do not worry about us. Father would be devastated if he thought you canceled your plans because of him.”
“And what of you, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bingley insisted, pulling away from their embrace.
Elizabeth answered without hesitation, “I will be devastated if your delay causes Father to postpone my wedding day."
Darcy could not agree more.
“Father may very well think of another excuse to delay your wedding once we return. You are his favorite, and it will be a difficult thing for him to allow you to leave so easily. We can stay at Netherfield Park,” suggested Mrs. Bingley.
“With Miss Bingley and the Hursts in your home? No, Jane, you have already cut your tour short and we would not have you change your plans any further for our benefit.” Elizabeth left out any acknowledgment of her sister’s concern that Mr. Bennet create more obstacles to her departure from Longbourn. Truth be told, the thought had occurred to Darcy as well as it had to Bingley’s wife.
Mrs. Bingley looked at Darcy and he was quick to agree with his betrothed. How he loved Elizabeth. Her unselfish love for those whom she held dear would make her fast friends with his sister, Georgiana — and Georgie desperately needed a friend. She was of the age where he felt incapable of guiding her as she required. Her new companion had come highly recommended and had passed Darcy's particularly strict requirements by her own merits (What brother would not do the same after Mrs. Younge's treachery?). But a companion
was not enough. What Georgie needed was their mother and, while Darcy wouldn't put that impossible task to Elizabeth, he held high hopes that the two women he most loved in all the world would become as close as sisters.
Elizabeth’s sincerity convinced Mrs. Bingley to continue with their wedding tour on the understanding she would write immediately if Mr. Bennet worsened — a condition Elizabeth willingly accepted.
Darcy exchanged goodbyes with Bingley and Richard, waving with their friends and family members as the newlyweds’ carriages clattered down the gravel path, thus conveying them onward to the next chapters of their lives on comfortable, velvet squabs. He was happy for them. And incredibly jealous.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes brimmed with joyous tears; her smile illuminated her face with an innocent bliss he craved to see every day. Tiny freckles danced across the bridge of her nose and disappeared into her rosy cheeks. The corners of her lips curled up, taunting him to kiss them. Never before had anyone tempted him to lose his composure as she did.
He handed Elizabeth into her family’s carriage after Miss Mary and Miss Lydia had been assisted inside, holding her hand longer than he needed to.
Before the coachman closed the door, he reminded Mr. Bennet, "I will call on the morrow."
"Very well, Mr. Darcy. You shall see I am well, and I will retire into my study so you may spend your time in better company." Mr. Bennet looked pointedly at Elizabeth.
She laughed. "You are not so unwell to have lost your sense of humor, Papa. That would truly cause concern."
"Until the morrow," Darcy said to Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet was correct to assume Darcy was more interested in her company than in his, but though the gentleman put on a good show, he had concerned Darcy enough to offer to send for his London doctor. He would have the letter ready to send should Mr. Bennet not dramatically improve over the course of the day. On the other hand, if Mr. Bennet was much improved on the morrow, it meant they had another battle on their hands — the battle to win his consent.
Turning to Tanner, who smacked their horses’ reins impatiently against his palm, Darcy said, "Shall we return to the inn?"
"I thought you would never ask. I need a drink." Tanner mounted and touched his heels against his stallion's sides, taking off at clip quick enough to make Darcy wonder from what he ran.
Chapter 4
Father rested his head against the carriage cushion all the way back to Longbourn.
Lydia, too occupied with Chloe, did not notice his discomfort.
Mary, who had decided to accompany them home instead of returning to Meryton with Aunt and Uncle, looked disturbed (though Elizabeth suspected it was not principally out of concern for Father).
When they arrived home, Mary asked, "Papa, might I have a word with you? I need your counsel in a serious matter."
Asking Mrs. Hill to send in a tray of dry toast and tea, Father followed them into the drawing room, explaining, "The food was too rich for my poor stomach."
"I thought you looked poorly. Do you require a doctor?" asked Mary.
"Not yet. It will pass. Contrary to your mother's constant concern, I have always enjoyed a hearty constitution. I will not go down so easily," he replied.
Lydia snorted. "It is a good thing. I would be forced to marry Mr. Collins and I am saving myself for someone infinitely more handsome."
"I wish he would ask you. Then, perhaps, I might have some peace," said Mary vehemently, drawing all eyes to her — Elizabeth in unsurprised interest, Father in inquisitiveness, and Lydia in shocked disbelief anyone would prefer Mary over her. Even Mr. Collins.
Father asked, "You do not wish to receive Mr. Collins' attentions?"
Mary said "No” with such depth of feeling, it staved off all further inquiries regarding her certainty.
Elizabeth, always having believed true love worth waiting for, was pleased to hear that Mary, by all appearances, was unwilling to resign herself to a life of mind-numbing, superfluous conversation and mundane people-pleasing with Father’s heir.
Lydia, her nose firmly out of place, huffed. "What makes you think Mr. Collins would prefer you to me?"
Mary answered in her forthright way, "Because he has called at Uncle’s every day this week."
With a gasp, Lydia clutched Chloe to her bosom, stroking her shiny fur and muttering, "Shocking, simply shocking. What has this world come to?"
“You would not accept him were he to ask you anyway, Lydia. I do not see why you should be affected in the least by him showing an interest in me,” observed Mary.
Father said to Lydia, "The sooner you understand the world does not revolve around you, my dear, the better. Would you be jealous over your sister's unwanted success when you admitted to despising the gentleman in question? That is a selfish view, Lydia, and I challenge you to correct it lest your future husband come to believe you the silliest wife in all of Christendom." He accepted the tea Mrs. Hill offered, the elderly housekeeper showing her approval of the long-overdue chastisement with a firm nod.
Elizabeth wanted to laugh at the reactions in the room. She was proud of Father for correcting Lydia. However, Lydia was unaccustomed to receiving discipline of any sort. She gasped in short breaths and swayed on the chaise, apparently undecided whether she should erupt into a toddler-like tantrum or faint in shock.
"Calm yourself, my dear, and put a spoon of sugar in your tea," Father said kindly, taking the lid off the sugar bowl.
Deciding she would rather have sweet tea than continue in her current state, Lydia reached for the bowl, stirring a spoonful of sugar into the liquid and greedily reaching for another.
Father rested his hand over hers. "One is quite enough, Lydia. You must ensure there is enough for everyone else."
With a scowl, Lydia mumbled some nonsense to Chloe about King Charles.
Filled with pride for her decisive sister and authoritative father, Elizabeth turned to Mary. "You do not wish to encourage Mr. Collins? Do you think he will make an offer soon?"
Mary nodded. “Since Mr. Collins’ recovery from the poisoned cake, he has called often at Uncle's home. However, this week, he has called daily. Aunt, of course, encourages it. Like Mother, she believes all of our problems will be solved if one of us marries him, but I cannot find it in me to do it. A month ago, I might have considered it my duty to agree. I would have thought it a sacrifice necessary to ensure the futures of my sisters."
Elizabeth reached over to squeeze Mary’s hand. "That is considerate of you, but none of us would ever ask you to become a martyr for our sakes."
Mary smiled. "I am blessed to possess such thoughtful sisters."
Lydia, never one to keep her mouth shut when she could make herself sound bad, said, "I would have! Do you not realize what will happen to me if Father dies and you do not marry Mr. Collins?"
Mary pursed her lips, inhaled deeply, and continued, "I have not refused him yet, as he has not made an offer. I am not so unrealistic as to believe I shall ever again receive another offer of marriage, and so I will not make a decision to refuse him lightly. I only seek to buy myself some time to determine my future. Once the decision is made, it cannot be undone.”
"You surprise me, Mary. I had believed you agreeable to the match, but I will support whatever decision you make regarding Mr. Collins. Have you spoken with your Uncle Philips about this?" asked Father.
Mary looked down and shook her head. "I am so happy with the work he allows me to do, I would rather not say anything which might make him regret my presence in his home. I am sorry, Father. It is selfish to want to continue on there when my proper place is at home with you."
Father's eyebrows knit together. "What a silly sentiment, my dear girl. Why should you not want to continue in a home where you have found a worthwhile occupation and a healthier sense of worth? I can only apologize I did not take greater care to offer you the same here. Now, tell me, Mary, how can I help you? Do you wish for me to speak with your uncle? Or with Mr. Collins?"
Mary
paused, unaccustomed to being taken seriously. Had she been present at home during the past few weeks, she would have noticed the gradual change come over their father. For the first time, he took an interest in the estate — meeting often with his land steward — as well as a more active interest in his daughters. Elizabeth was grateful for it.
"No, I think not. I gave my reasons for not speaking to Uncle Philips and would rather you not mention it to him. As for Mr. Collins … I sense the vicar is tiring of Mr. Collins' company and he is soon to request that he depart to tend to the needs of his own parish. Such a solution would be the answer to my prayers were he to heed the vicar’s suggestion. However, Mr. Collins has expressed his desire to remain in Meryton. My fear is that Aunt Philips will sense an opportunity and invite Mr. Collins to stay with them."
Father observed, "At which you would have to return here or be forced into a marriage you are uncertain you want. Mr. Collins, with your aunt’s help, would soon wear you down until you accept him merely to have some peace." Father took off his spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose. "I think I understand you, Mary. I must invite Mr. Collins to return to Longbourn. However, I must also consider Elizabeth and Lydia."
Elizabeth was quick to reassure him. "It is a good idea. He would not dare attempt to court me when I am engaged to the nephew of his esteemed patroness—"
"An engagement said lady does not support and will do what she can to prevent," interrupted Father.
"It is true," Elizabeth acknowledged. "However, Mr. Collins will be limited here. If you were to encourage his interest in the running of the estate, he could be kept occupied. Lydia and I are in no danger from him.”
Lydia huffed. “Speak for yourself. If Mr. Collins stays at Longbourn, he is sure to propose to me and it will be awkward for me to refuse him.”
"Allow me a bit of time to ponder your problem, Mary. Whatever I decide, I will act before the day's end or risk your Aunt Philips' interference." He put on his spectacles and nibbled on his toast.
