Implacable Resentment

by Jann Rowland

  At her prompt, the door opened, and a head of golden tresses appeared. “Elizabeth?” called Jane.

  Relieved to see her dearest sister, Elizabeth motioned for her to enter the room, which Jane did, though she still appeared to be uncertain of her reception.

  “Elizabeth . . .” Jane trailed off before summoning her courage and continuing. “Are you well, Elizabeth?”

  “As well as can be,” replied Elizabeth with an indifferent shrug.

  Jane frowned. “I am not certain I believe you.”

  “Indeed, all shall be well.”

  “But what of Mr. Collins? And Papa?” Jane appeared to be struggling with her emotions. “I cannot imagine that you have agreed to marry Mr. Collins, of all men. I believe I know your opinion of the man, Elizabeth.”

  “You are correct, Jane,” said Elizabeth. “I did not agree to marry him.”

  There was a grim set to Jane’s countenance when Elizabeth confirmed her suspicions. “How can Papa do this?” asked she, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. “Surely he can see that you have no feelings for the man.”

  “Oh, I assure you that I have plenty of feelings for the man!” Elizabeth could not keep the bitterness from her voice. “Contempt, anger, and disgust are foremost among them.”

  “But Elizabeth,” said Jane, stepping forward to take her hand, “what will you do?”

  Though she thought for a moment to illuminate Jane concerning the particulars of her plan, Elizabeth reluctantly decided to keep it from her sister. Jane was too good-hearted, and if Mr. Bennet asked, Elizabeth was not certain her sister would be able to keep her confidence. Besides, she did not wish to burden Jane with the knowledge that she planned to throw herself on the mercy of Mr. Darcy.

  “Do not concern yourself, Jane,” said Elizabeth quietly. “But know that I will not allow my father to do this to me without a fight.”

  Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. “Will I see you again?”

  Elizabeth laughed and embraced her sister. “How could I throw off such a wonderful sister? I assure you that we will meet again, Jane. It will likely not be for some time, but it will happen.”

  Jane smiled through her tears. “I shall miss you. It has been very enjoyable having my little sister with us again.”

  “And I shall miss you,” said Elizabeth, forcing the words out through the emotion coursing through her. She would not trade her years with the Gardiners for anything, but at that moment, Elizabeth cursed her parents for causing her to miss so many years of being loved by a most angelic sister.

  The sisters spoke for a few more moments, Jane for the most part admonishing Elizabeth to be well, and then Jane departed, leaving Elizabeth to her empty room and her thoughts. It was not many more moments before Elizabeth decided to retire herself. It would be some time before the house settled down. Until that time, she might as well get a little rest. Then she would make her escape.

  Regardless of Elizabeth’s intentions, sleep was impossible to come by. In the window of her mind, she kept replaying the events of the evening, running over the state of her relationship with her father and mother, and wondering at the events which had led to the state between them. A part of her wondered what her relationships with her parents would have been had her life not been overturned. Would she be closer to her mother or father? Would she be a favorite of either or both of them?

  No, she doubted that would be the case. The thought of being her mother’s favorite was quickly rejected. The woman was silly and vapid, and she would automatically choose her youngest and silliest—the one most like her—as her favorite. And as for her father . . . Well, Elizabeth could not imagine being close to Mr. Bennet either. He was a strange man, and she did not believe that he would have emerged from his bookroom for anyone. It was best that she depart and disappear from the Bennets’ lives forever.

  When the appointed time arrived, Elizabeth roused herself from her bed and prepared to depart. She had not changed into her night-clothes, so it was a simple matter of twisting her hair into a knot and taking her case out from where it was hidden underneath her bed. As she moved to the door, she turned and took one last look at the room she had inhabited for the past two months. There was very little in the way of memories attached to this room, and she certainly had no fondness for it. No, she would not miss Longbourn.

  Once outside her door, Elizabeth closed it quietly behind her, making her way down the hall and subsequently the stairs as quietly as she could manage it. There was not a sound to be heard throughout the house. Satisfied she was about to make her escape, Elizabeth turned and made her way deeper into the house, and eventually made her way to the kitchen. There, espying Mrs. Hill near the back door, she approached her with a smile of gratitude.

  “Here is your outer wear, Miss Elizabeth,” said the housekeeper, helping her into her pelisse. “I have sent the footman to his bed. There should be no impediment to your escape.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hill,” said Elizabeth with some emotion.

  The woman nodded. “Are you certain you will be well?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “It is no more than a three-mile walk to Netherfield. I do not suppose there will be brigands in between here and there.”

  Though her words were intended to be a jest, Mrs. Hill paled slightly. “I wish there was something more I had been able to do, Miss Elizabeth. But I dare not call upon John, the stable boy, as I believe he would run directly to Mr. Bennet with such news.”

  Reaching out a hand, Elizabeth touched the woman’s arm, partially as a thankful gesture and partially to reassure her.

  “It is of no moment, Mrs. Hill. The roads around Meryton are very safe. I do not doubt that I shall arrive at Netherfield completely unscathed. Once again, I thank you for your unstinting devotion and care. I shall miss you dearly.”

  “And we shall miss you, Miss Elizabeth. But I believe you go to a much better place. May God bless your journey.”

  Almost overcome with emotion, Elizabeth favored Mrs. Hill with a watery smile before turning toward the door. The housekeeper opened the door and made a shooing motion to Elizabeth, though she was not unaffected by emotion herself. Steeling herself for what was to come, Elizabeth turned to the door and stepped through it.

  And was confronted by the thunderous expression of her father.

  Elizabeth gasped and shrunk back from the man, but he made no move toward her. He merely watched her, though he was wearing an insufferable smile of satisfaction, clearly enjoying the fact that he had anticipated her flight.

  “I see I was right to be suspicious of you. I did not think you would accept your lot without argument.”

  “No, I will not, father,” said Elizabeth, gathering herself. “Mr. Collins is a fool, and I will not marry him.”

  “You will,” was Mr. Bennet’s maddening and emotionless reply. “If I have to tie you to the pew and recite your vows for you, I will see you married to him. You owe it to your mother and sisters.”

  “I owe them nothing!” cried Elizabeth. “Certainly not to a woman who made my first nine years of life miserable.”

  Mr. Bennet snorted and turned to the housekeeper, regarding her as a lion might eye a fat pig. “I expected my daughter to try to escape. However, I did not expect your involvement in this, Mrs. Hill.”

  An attempt at defiance from the woman was admirable, but she soon crumpled under his pitiless stare and looked toward the ground.

  “The only reason I am not removing you from the premises is because of your long years of service to my family. You will go to your room and return to your duties on the morrow. And you will have no further contact with Elizabeth.”

  Mrs. Hill looked up at Mr. Bennet at these edicts, and she appeared to be on the verge of some retort. But Elizabeth knew that she would not escape this night and that she did not wish for Mrs. Hill to lose her position.

  So Elizabeth put a calming hand on her shoulder. “Please, Mrs. Hill. Do as he asks. There is nothing further to be done tonigh
t.”

  It was evident that she wished to be of further use, but Mrs. Hill nodded once in Elizabeth’s direction. “Very well, Miss Elizabeth. I will return to my room.”

  “Selfless to the last,” jibed Mr. Bennet as the housekeeper retreated. “I know not how you managed to pull her into your schemes, but I shall tell you this—if I catch her acting contrary to my will again, no length of service will save her from dismissal.”

  Elizabeth locked her father in a disdainful glare. “I would not have her dismissed on my account.”

  “And yet you have brought the woman to the very brink tonight.”

  “You may believe what you wish, father. Perhaps I have more faith in the innate goodness of my fellow man. Of course, there are always exceptions.”

  Her father snorted, but he said nothing in response to her blatant innuendo and instead took her by the arm, leading her back up the stairs. Their progress was not silent, and as the stairs ran past the entrance to Mrs. Bennet’s bedchamber, they awoke her, and she cried out with fright, howling some nonsensical lamentation about how highwaymen had entered the house.

  “Be silent, Mrs. Bennet!” snapped Mr. Bennet as he led them past her room.

  “Now, Elizabeth,” said her father as they arrived at the door to her room, “you will retire immediately. There are to be no more adventures this night.

  “John!” barked Mr. Bennet.

  In the dimness of the corridor, a tall man, lean but with corded muscles under his shirt, stepped forward. Elizabeth realized that he must have been following them from below, though she had not noted his presence at the time.

  “You will keep watch outside Elizabeth’s door tonight. See that she does not leave the room for any reason.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bennet,” said the man in a soft voice.

  Elizabeth shuddered as he looked at her with a merciless stare, and she immediately opened the door and slipped into her room. Behind her in the hall, the mocking voice of her father drifted into the room as though on wings of sound, “Good night, my little Lizzy.”

  Though Elizabeth attempted to rest, her sleep was fitful. Images of her father staring mercilessly and handing her off to a ridiculous demon named Collins flitted in and out of her dreams. Interspersed with those dreams, she found herself pursued by some nameless calamity which never quite managed to catch her, but which she conversely could not escape. It was a miserable night, made even more so by the fact that Elizabeth spent her waking moments wondering how to affect her escape from her father.

  About the best plan she could muster was to wait until Mr. Darcy visited. If she could catch him before he approached her father, she could make him aware of what had occurred. She was certain his regard was real, and she had no doubt he would not take kindly to her father’s actions.

  Finally, when the morning had arrived, though the landscape outside her window was still laboring under the absence of light, Elizabeth rose from her bed and dressed in a simple but serviceable gown. It was gray and drab, and it suited her mood. She then opened the door to the room and confronted the stony visage of her captor.

  “The master said you were not to leave your room.”

  “Does the master intend for me to starve?” asked Elizabeth imperiously. “I wish to go down to breakfast. You may accompany me to see that I do not run if you must.”

  The man seemed to consider the matter for the moment before he stepped away from the door and motioned toward the stairs. He said nothing further, but his pointed look seemed to suggest that he would not be gentle if she should be so foolish as to run.

  The breakfast room was empty, as her father had not yet appeared this morning, and with the stable hand waiting outside the room, Elizabeth entered. A maid soon arrived with a tray of muffins—it still was quite early, and Elizabeth felt a momentary pang of remorse for imposing upon the staff in such a manner. She forced herself to eat a few bites of the breakfast which had been provided.

  The true reason she had insisted on being allowed to come down for breakfast was quite different from what she had told the man. On the far side of the breakfast parlor, down a short hall, sat the tray on which the Bennets normally set their outgoing correspondence. Having written a letter to her uncle that morning in her room, she proceeded to exit the breakfast room and inserted the letter under some others which were already there. She then returned to her breakfast without anyone being the wiser.

  After she had returned to her room—under the watchful company of the detested stable hand—she sat at the window, watching the outside world. It was still quite early, so the landscape was as of yet gray, but while Elizabeth sat there, she watched the gradual increase of light, noting the abundance of pale pink and red pastel brush-strokes playing on the undersides of some fluffy clouds floating in the distance. When the sun finally peeked over the horizon, bathing the house in a dazzling array of light, Elizabeth reflected that it was ironic that the sunrise should be so beautiful on such a dark morning.

  Her contemplation of the heavens was interrupted when the door to her room opened and Mr. Bennet walked in. Elizabeth rose to her feet and regarded him with no little derision. He took a letter from his pocket, tossing it on her nightstand with a sharp twist of his wrist. It was the letter she had written to her uncle.

  “I anticipated this from you as well,” said her father. His manner was all insolent smugness, as if he believed himself so very superior for having guessed at her ploy.

  “But then, I might as well allow the letter to be sent,” continued he in a conversational tone. “By the time it made its way into the hands of my brother, it would be much too late for him to do anything.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  “Put on your best dress, Elizabeth, for today is your wedding day.”

  Shocked, Elizabeth gaped at him. “You cannot do this!”

  “I assure you that I can.”

  “The banns have not been read!” sputtered Elizabeth. “The church has not been booked. Nothing has been prepared. You cannot simply decree something and expect that it will be accepted by the church.”

  “Mr. Jones will marry you because I tell him to. The rest of it does not matter. Now, I suggest you prepare yourself, for you will be married today!”

  “You cannot make me marry him!” cried Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy asked only yesterday if he could court me, and I told him he could!”

  That brought her father up short, and he peered at her for a moment before a truly unpleasant smile came over his face. Shaking his head, he said: “I had not thought you desperate enough to lie in order to save yourself.”

  “I am not lying,” said Elizabeth with an indignant huff.

  “So you say,” returned her father, his manner all insolence.

  Elizabeth glared at him. “Do you suppose that no man will look twice at me, or am I so repulsive that my only recourse is to be shackled to an imbecile like Mr. Collins?”

  “I suppose that you spin tales of regard so that you may purchase a little time in which to make your escape. I also suppose that a man of Mr. Darcy’s standing in society would not even look twice at penniless waifs such as my daughters.

  “But do not concern yourself, Elizabeth. Should Mr. Darcy come to request your hand, I will ensure he understands how happy you are to be marrying such an amiable and eligible gentleman as my cousin.”

  And with that, Mr. Bennet turned and departed from the room.

  Elizabeth stared after him, wondering if her father had taken leave of his very sanity. Could he not see what a boon it would be to have a connection to such a wealthy man as Mr. Darcy? Would it not raise the chances for all of his daughters to make a good marriage?

  And the sudden nature of this wedding was beyond her comprehension. While she could not state with any certainty what had been done, she knew at the very least the banns had not been read in Longbourn church as she had attended each of the past three weeks. How could her father think that he c
ould force a marriage without the proper forms being met?

  Still, his face and voice had been utterly implacable, and Elizabeth knew that he was serious. He seemed intent upon making her marry his cousin; nothing she said had made the slightest dent in his resolve.

  Elizabeth glanced around the room quickly, and espying the window, she went over to it and opened it, peering out to see if there was anything she could use to climb down.

  There on the ground, however, stood the stable hand watching her. “You may wish to reconsider, missy,” said he. “It would be a shame if your only escape was to fall to your death.”

  Elizabeth glared imperiously at the man before she shut the window and began to make for the door, only for it to open from the other side.

  “I must say that I did not expect that you of all my daughters would be the first to be married,” said Mrs. Bennet as she bustled into the room. “Still, I suppose I must do what I can to make you presentable.”

  “You might as well save yourself the trouble, mother. I will not marry the man.”

  Mrs. Bennet clucked and moved to Elizabeth’s closet to look at her dresses. “Your father says that you will. What you say does not truly matter, now does it?”

  “Has the entire family gone mad?” cried Elizabeth. “I will not marry the man. I detest him!”

  “He is not precisely what I would have chosen for a son-in-law, but since it is you, I suppose it is fitting. It is not as if you deserve much more.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her mother. As the woman was busy nosing about her closet, she did not see the daggers with which Elizabeth was impaling her through her eyes.

  “As for your possessions, I suppose we can pack them up and send them after you. Though I must own that my Lydia would look very well in some of these frocks.” Mrs. Bennet sneered at her. “It is not as if you will require them in Kent with such a husband.”

  “Even if my father forces me to the altar, I assure you that I will not speak,” said Elizabeth, keeping her voice calm. “He can force me to the church. He can force Mr. Jones to marry us. He may even be able to force me to sign the register. But I promise you, mother, that regardless of what my father does to affect this travesty, it shall not make it any more valid.”