‘I hope it will it not be dangerous,’ she said, suddenly anxious.
‘Of course not!’ said Lydia boldly. ‘Harriet says there will not be any fighting until the autumn, and I am sure I will be married by then, so I will be quite safe.’
‘In that case there can be no objection to it. You must gain your father’s agreement, of course, but I am sure he will consent,’ said Mrs Bennet.
Lydian ran out of the room, almost knocking over the side table in her haste, and shouting, ‘Papa! Papa!’
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances and they went upstairs to discuss this new development.
‘Oh, Jane,’ said Elizabeth, when they were alone. ‘I am afraid Mr Darcy was right. Lydia is an incorrigible flirt and she will disgrace us all. Goodness knows what she will get up to in Brussels. It is bad enough here, where she is under Papa’s watchful eye.’ Here she thought guiltily of Mr Darcy’s comments about her father. Mr Darcy had seen at once that Mr Bennet was a lazy father who could not be bothered to correct his youngest daughter’s behaviour. But even so, she knew that her father restrained Lydia sometimes, and that his mere presence put a curb on Lydia’s wilder excesses.
Jane put a consoling hand on Elizabeth’s arm.
‘If Mr Darcy cannot see your value, despite Lydia’s silliness, then he does not deserve you,’ said Jane.
Elizabeth smiled thankfully and put her hand over her sister’s. The two of them shared a strong bond of love and friendship and they had no secrets from each other. So it was that Elizabeth knew Jane was in love with Mr Bingley, and Jane knew that Mr Bingley’s friend, Mr Darcy, had proposed to Elizabeth.
Despite Jane’s reassurance, however, Elizabeth could not help being downcast. Although she would probably never see Mr Darcy again, she did not like to think of him hearing about Lydia’s latest wildest adventure. It would make him think he had been justified in mentioning it in his proposal. Because here was Lydia behaving like a common flirt and proving Mr Darcy right.
‘If Lydia is allowed to go to Brussels, she will bring us all into disrepute,’ said Elizabeth. ‘So far from home with no one to guide her, who knows what will happen?’
‘Colonel Forster will be there. He will not let her come to any harm,’ said Jane.
But she did not sound convinced.
‘Colonel Forster will be taken up with business. Now that Napoleon has escaped from his imprisonment on the island of Elba and returned to Paris, Colonel Forster will not have time to pay close attention to Lydia. Napoleon will not remain in Paris. He will try to conquer Europe once again. That is of more importance to a military man than a silly young girl.’
‘There is Mrs Forster,’ said Jane.
‘Mrs Forster is almost as young and silly as Lydia,’ said Elizabeth.
Jane could not contradict her, for Mrs Forster was much younger than her husband.
‘I do not like to do it, but I must speak to Papa,’ said Elizabeth, after giving the matter some thought. ‘Lydia will never acquire any common sense if she is allowed to go, and that is the least of my worries, because if she goes to Brussels without a proper chaperon I fear the consequences could be dire.’
‘I think you are right,’ said Jane. ‘Lydia is a warm-hearted girl but she is thoughtless. Her habit of bestowing her affections too lightly might lead some people to think she is a common flirt.’
‘Oh, Jane, only you could be so good as to have any doubts about the matter. But whatever her motives, we must protect her from harm, and from dragging the rest of the family into disrepute. We know all too well the harm that causes.’
Jane looked at her questioningly and Elizabeth bit her tongue. She had not meant to say so much. She had not told Jane that Lydia’s behaviour was one of the things that had caused Mr Darcy to take Mr Bingley away, and so it was consequently one of the things that had led to Jane’s broken heart.
‘It leads to gossip,’ said Elizabeth, who did not want to elaborate further as she did not want to hurt Jane.
She went downstairs and found her father in his library. It was a beautiful room lined with books. It was light and spacious and an open door led out onto a terrace, which in turn gave on to wide lawns surrounded by flower beds. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains in a delightful fashion. There was a large desk in the middle of the room and Mr Bennet was sitting behind it, reading a book. His spectacles were perched on the end of his nose and he looked perfectly at ease.
He often retreated to his library when the liveliness of his wife and five daughters became too much for him. But he was always glad to see Elizabeth. She was his favourite daughter. There was a close bond between them and he called her affectionately, ‘My Lizzy.’
When she entered the room he looked up with a frown, annoyed to be disturbed. But as soon as he saw it was Elizabeth his frown changed to a smile. He closed his book with a snap and laid it down on the desk in front of him.
‘My Lizzy!’ he said with a smile. ‘What can I do for you, my dear?’
Elizabeth did not like what she was about to do but she knew it must be done.
‘Papa, I must speak to you. Lydia has been invited to Brussels by Colonel and Mrs Forster. Both Lydia and Mamma are in raptures, but Mamma has said that Lydia must ask your permission. Has she yet done so?’
‘No. I have not had that pleasure,’ remarked her father drily. ‘But Lydia knows better than to disturb me in my library. That is a luxury I extend to you and Jane only, my Lizzy.’
‘Then I must ask you to refuse your permission,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Lydia’s behaviour is wild and unruly. Even here, in Meryton, she is gaining a reputation. If she goes to Brussels it will be ten times worse. There will be a lot more temptations there than here, and she is already talking of all the officers she will meet, as well as dukes and princes.’
Mr Bennet chuckled.
‘Never fear, dukes and princes will not be in the slightest bit interested in Lydia. It will do her good to learn her place. She will soon find out that she is the daughter of a country squire and that great men look higher for their brides.’
Elizabeth felt an uncomfortable moment, for she knew that one great man, at least, had not looked higher than the daughter of a country squire. Or, that he wished to look higher but had overcome his wishes in order to propose to her.
‘Then you mean to let her go?’ asked Elizabeth.
She was downcast.
‘I do. Lydia will never be content until she has exposed herself in a public place, and where else can she do it with so little trouble and expense to her family as in Brussels? Her behaviour on the Continent will not be known here. She can rid herself of her wild spirits, and her delusions of grandeur, without troubling the rest of us.’
‘I fear that her conduct will not pass unnoticed and might become truly scandalous if she is away from her family,’ Elizabeth argued. ‘If you only knew what trouble it had already caused.’
Mr Bennet looked surprised at this.
‘Has she scared away some of your suitors, my Lizzy? If so, they were not worth having. A man who cannot put up with a little folly in his relatives is not a man I would like to see married to you, for you love to laugh, and any man who marries you must love to laugh, too.’
‘Oh, Papa, laughing is one thing, but condoning folly is another.’
She tried to make him see the seriousness of the situation, telling him that if he did not curb Lydia soon then it would be too late, for her character would be fixed. But Mr Bennet preferred to laugh at his family instead of trying to correct them.
Elizabeth was dismayed. Her family were confirming Mr Darcy’s bad opinion of them, Lydia by being a flirt and Mr Bennet by being lazy.
At last she had to accept her father’s answer and she left him feeling disappointed and sorry. She went for a walk in the garden, taking comfort from the spring flowers which were bedecking the flower beds, and then took more comfort from Jane when she went indoors. But she was still heartsore by the end of the day. The only
thought that consoled her was that soon she would be touring the Lake District with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
Mrs Gardiner was a sensible woman and Elizabeth knew that, with her aunt, she would have a respite from the vexations of her family life. She knew her aunt would feel for her in her troubles, and if she could not suggest a remedy she would at least have some words of wisdom to impart. So Elizabeth sat down and wrote to her, telling her that Lydia had been invited to Brussels. She recounted her anxieties and asking her aunt for advice.
Then, having done all she could, she went downstairs for supper.
Chapter Two
Mr Darcy was feeling morose. It was now a week since Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him and it had been a very uncomfortable week. He had been staying with his Aunt Catherine at Rosings Park when he had met Elizabeth again, after an initial meeting in Meryton the previous year. He had been surprised by the strength of his feelings for her. They had intensified over the winter, so that he had found himself falling in love with her.
He had tried to fight it but he had been unable to overcome his feelings. And so, one evening, he had walked down to the parsonage, where she was staying with her friend Mrs Collins, the rector’s wife, and proposed.
He had expected her to be flattered and delighted, and to accept him on the spot.
But, instead, she had been angry and insulted.
When he had finally come to a halt, she had rejected his proposal. Even worse, she had told him he was not a gentleman.
He was angry even now when he thought about it. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, not a gentleman? Why, he had been a gentleman all his life! He had been born a gentleman, and raised a gentleman, and he was one of the finest gentlemen in the land! He came from an old and very well respected family and any other young lady would have been swooning with rapture if he had so much as hinted he was going to propose. Miss Bingley would probably have fainted clean away!
And so he had gone back to Rosings and written Elizabeth a long letter, exonerating himself from any blame regarding his conduct to Miss Jane Bennet. He had also excused himself where Mr Wickham was concerned. He had met Elizabeth the following morning and he had given her the letter with a haughty bow. Then he had stalked away. Soon afterwards, he had left Rosings Park and returned to London.
He ought, by rights, to have forgotten her. Such an ungrateful young woman was not worth remembering. But the more he tried to forget her, the more he remembered.
He remembered the tone of her voice when she had told him he was not a gentleman. He remembered her expression when she said, “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
The words still stung. Even though it was now a week ago, he was still angry with her. He had done nothing wrong. He had been honest, that was all. He was blameless. But that did not alter the fact that he had proposed and been rejected, and so he must forget her.
It was easy to say, however, and difficult to do. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget her. He kept seeing her face and hearing her voice as she said, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner. Those words ran through his head again and again.
‘ . . . Darcy!’
Belatedly, he realised his cousin was talking to him.
He sat up straighter. He stretched his long, Hessian-booted legs out in front of him and he flicked a speck of dust from his black tailcoat, then he turned his attention to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
The two gentlemen were sitting in Mr Darcy’s drawing-room at Darcy House. It was a large room with tasteful furnishings and an elegant fireplace. The gentlemen were sitting facing each other on opposite sofas, their drinks next to them on convenient side tables. The evening sunshine was lighting the room and painting bright stripes across the luxurious carpet.
‘You were saying?’ he asked, trying to bring his thoughts back under control.
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at him intently.
‘You are very distracted these days. Is anything wrong?’ he asked.
‘No. Nothing is wrong. What could be wrong?’ asked Mr Darcy, with a haughty raise of one eyebrow. ‘Pray continue.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam continued looking at him intently for another few seconds then gave a slight shrug. He took another sip of his drink, returned his glass to the table, and then carried on.
‘I was saying that if we are to stop Napoleon once and for all we must do it this year. It was a mistake to imprison him on the island of Elba when we forced him to abdicate last year. Elba was too near the mainland and the short distance across the sea tempted him to escape and raise another army.’
Mr Darcy forced himself to think about what his cousin was saying, because it was of great importance to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he liked his cousin. Indeed, it was not only important to his cousin, it was important to the whole country. Napoleon had escaped from Elba in February and gathered followers on his way through France. He had marched on Paris with an army at his back and the news of his approach had driven the French king out of the city.
‘Just when we thought the Napoleonic wars were over, Napoleon has started them all over again,’ he said, to show he was listening.
‘Yes.’ Colonel Fitzwilliam sat forward in his seat. He was wearing his uniform and although he was not a handsome man, he looked imposing in his regimentals. ‘We should have attacked him at once but we left him time to gather his forces and make his plans. When he emerges from Paris, as he will, we must win a decisive victory against him, otherwise we will face more years of war.’
‘And you think it will be fought near Brussels?’ asked Mr Darcy.
He had followed the events in the newspapers and he had talked to his cousin, as well as other military friends and acquaintances, about the matter.
‘Our plan is to use Brussels as a base for gathering the European armies and then we can march on Paris together as a unified force,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘It took the might of combined armies to stop him last year and it will do so again. The Austrians, Prussians and Russians are all with us on this. Brussels will be full this year.’
Mr Darcy took a drink, turning the glass in his hand.
‘Will it work?’ he asked. ‘Do you think you will be able to defeat him? He is a gifted general.’
‘Yes, we can defeat him – as long as all the different European princes and their armies stop squabbling with each other long enough to do the job. Every prince wants to command the army, and a lot of them don’t have any military training. But I think they will see sense in the end.’
‘Let us hope so,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘No one wants to see Europe plunged into another war.’
He envied his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam would soon be leaving England and Mr Darcy had a sudden urge to join him. Since Elizabeth Bennet’s refusal, he had nothing to remain in England for.
He was thoughtful for a few minutes, then he said, ‘When are you going to Brussels?’
‘I sail in four days’ time. Why?’
‘I think I might come with you.’
‘Does this have anything to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet?’ Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, giving him a hard stare.
Mr Darcy gave him a discouraging look, returning his stare with interest.
He had told Colonel Fitzwilliam something of the matter, because he had written in his letter to Elizabeth that she could ask Colonel Fitzwilliam for confirmation of the Wickham affair. But he had not told his cousin that he had proposed to the lady, and he did not intend to. Nor did he intend to admit that she was the cause of his desire to leave England. He did not want anyone to think that the daughter of a country squire – a country squire, for goodness sake! – had any influence over him.
‘No. Of course not. How could it possibly have anything to do with the lady?’ he asked in a repressive tone of voice. ‘I have not seen her since we left Rosings and I doubt if I will ever see her again. Why should you think it had anything to do with her?’
‘B
ecause it is not like you to suddenly decide to leave England,’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam bluntly. ‘There is something behind it, I am sure.’
Mr Darcy lifted his glass and put it to his lips. The amber liquid swirled inside the crystal as it travelled to his mouth. Then he returned the glass to the table.
‘If I do not travel now, who knows when the chance will come again? If Europe is once more plunged into war then it will be impossible. Besides, I need a change and the Continent is pleasant at this time of year. I thought I might take Georgiana with me,’ he added on a sudden impulse. ‘It will do her good to see something of Europe and it will give her a chance to practise her French, as well as her Italian and Russian. She is of an age to enjoy it and she will learn a great deal that she cannot learn from books. She will have new museums and galleries to visit. She is fast turning into an accomplished young lady and it will put the seal on her accomplishments.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked thoughtful.
‘There is something in what you say. Georgiana is not a little girl any more. She is turning into a young lady. Yes, I think it will do her good to travel.’
‘It will be safe, will it not?’ asked Mr Darcy.
Although he liked the idea of taking his sister to Brussels, he did not want to do so if there would be any danger.
‘Oh, yes. Most of our best families are going. As you know, my mother is taking my sisters. She says there will be more balls and parties in Brussels than in London this year. I am sure she will like to have Georgiana with her when you have business to attend to. My sisters and Georgiana will all benefit from each other’s company.’
‘Then it is settled,’ said Mr Darcy.
Colonel Fitzwilliam finished his drink and then bid Mr Darcy farewell.
Mr Darcy began to make his arrangements . . . and he tried to banish the image of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which was never far from his mind.
Chapter Three
Breakfast at Longbourn was a miserable affair the following morning. Lydia had departed at 6am, waving and laughing and promising to find husbands for all her sisters. Mrs Bennet had wept and hugged Lydia and told her to enjoy herself, and had then waved her handkerchief at the departing carriage. She had finally retired indoors with a sob and a great many loud lamentations, and she now sat at the breakfast table, pouring the tea and sighing loudly whenever anyone looked in her direction.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 3 Page 20
