Folly and Forgiveness: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Lizzy Brandon

  “You are too kind, Mr. Wickham.”

  “I speak nothing but the truth. Officers do not always receive a warm welcome in a town, but your mother treated us well.” He stepped closer and looked concerned.

  “How do you fare, Miss Elizabeth? Forgive my notice, but as a friend I am concerned that you are not taking care of yourself.”

  “How positively ungallant of you to notice,” Elizabeth replied, attempting to inject some humor into her voice as she tapped his arm with her fan.

  “I only worry you carry too heavy a burden. You could never look anything less than lovely, regardless of the circumstances,” he reached for her hand and held it briefly, holding her gaze for a moment before blinking and remembering himself. The moment broken, he let go of her hand and shifted slightly away. “Forgive me, that was most impertinent and inappropriate of me in such a venue.”

  Elizabeth felt herself blush and looked away. Beside her, Mr. Wickham stiffened and she looked up to him in concern.

  “Do not worry, I am not offended.” When his posture did not relax, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” he replied, with a brittle smile, before relaxing his features and turning back to her. “Do not concern yourself with my comfort when I should be seeing to yours.”

  Elizabeth looked to see what could have caused the change in Mr. Wickham and saw Mr. Darcy glaring at them from across the room.

  “I am sorry he should cause you discomfort. Please, ignore his presence.”

  “You are correct,” he replied more warmly. “I do appreciate your concern, and I am ashamed that I should be the cause of any discomfort to you on this day. Again, I ask your forgiveness for my weakness, for I have never been very talented at hiding my true feelings.”

  “And I will repeat, you have nothing to regret and no apologies are necessary. I much prefer honesty to polite pretense. Come,” she said as she sent a glare of her own to Mr. Darcy, “Let us go. I find myself in need of some refreshments.”

  Mr. Wickham offered his arm, then escorted Elizabeth to the refreshments table.

  CHAPTER 9

  The event dragged on.

  How much longer must they stay? They had already attended more than long enough to satisfy propriety.

  Darcy looked to Bingley, who had hardly left Miss Bennet’s side the entire afternoon. When Miss Bennet had begun to look fatigued, Bingley had taken her to sit on the settee where they continued to reside. His sisters had sat nearby for a while but were now taking a turn about the room, likely impatient to leave.

  Miss Elizabeth sat, not far from her sister, and conversed with the constant flow of people eager to express their condolences. He could see the strain of the day on her face, but still she smiled at each person and expressed her thanks.

  “How much longer must we stay?” he heard Miss Bingley ask. Again, she thought she was whispering and so must be speaking with her sister. Darcy held back a cringe that her words mirrored his own thoughts so exactly. He did not wish to speak with either, and so, ignored them.

  “Charles is making a spectacle of himself, to be sure,” Mrs. Hurst answered. “I have tried to tell him he must not pay such marked attention to Jane Bennet in public, but he refuses to listen to me.”

  Darcy looked back to where the couple in question sat. He could only see the back of Bingley’s head, as he spoke to Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet smiled at something he said and dropped her gaze.

  “He insists that he must see her and provide what support he is able. Honestly, I do not understand him.”

  “Nor I,” Miss Bingley answered. “Though truth be told, I do not understand Jane either. I know she must pretend great sorrow, to do otherwise would be unseemly after all, but she appears genuinely affected.”

  “Oh, she is. When I spoke with her earlier I saw her fighting tears. I said nothing of course, not wanting to embarrass her by noting her lack of self-control.”

  “Precisely Louisa! Had she any sense, she would be celebrating. Without her mother about to cause a scene with her ignorant foolishness, Jane no longer has to worry about being shamed in public. At least by her mother anyway.” The two laughed softly, amused by their own viciousness.

  Had Darcy not already been watching Miss Bennet, he would not have noticed the subtle color that rose briefly to her cheeks nor her ears turning red. She appeared to swallow, but her expression hardly wavered. Perhaps she had not heard. So subtle was the change in her face that Darcy was certain she had not heard. The slight changes must be a response to something Bingley had said.

  Darcy walked away, not wishing to hear any more of the cruel remarks the women thought so witty. Even less did he want to admit he had harbored similar thoughts. He would never be so thoughtless as to actually state so out loud, let alone within hearing of one sure to be wounded, but he was ashamed that the same idea had crossed his mind. He walked to the edge of the room by the hallway, considering going to another room, or escaping the house altogether. As he considered his options, Miss Bennet walked by him and into the hallway. For her to have walked past him without any notice was unusual, but much could be forgiven of those grieving a loss such as hers.

  Concerned, he walked into the hallway, but did not see her. He was about to return to the room when he heard a soft sob. Looking to the library he noticed the door slightly ajar. Moving closer, he was able to discern Miss Bennet standing inside, her hands covering her face. Darcy shifted, uncertain whether he should offer a handkerchief or allow her continued privacy and the belief she was yet unseen.

  Before he could decide, Miss Bennet stood tall and wiped her face. She took three slow and careful breaths before turning around. Darcy ducked into a nearby room, not wishing to be caught spying on a private display of grief. After a few moments, Miss Bennet walked back to the drawing room, head held high showing no trace of her obvious discomfort. Darcy followed and watched her take her seat near Bingley and continue her conversation.

  Had he not heard the heartless words of his friend’s sisters, or watched Miss Bennet so keenly, he would never have suspected her to be distressed.

  Darcy had always prided himself on his ability to hide his feelings behind a bland social mask. He had learned early to protect himself from the prying eyes of others. Miss Bennet appeared to have mastered the skill even better than he had himself. Had he heard such slander at his own mother’s funeral, he would not have stayed so composed.

  His respect for Miss Bennet increased, along with his amazement at his discovery. He mentally reviewed his interactions with Miss Bennet. He had allowed that she had perfect manners and was a model of propriety, but perhaps she was too perfect. The social defects of her youngest sisters and parents were apparent, but even Elizabeth often behaved outside the boundaries of propriety.

  Of course, Elizabeth’s improper behavior was what he found most engaging – her willingness to assert her own opinion and challenge that of others around her, her disdain for rules of comportment when circumstances required action. She had walked three miles in mud – highly improper to be sure, but a display of genuine affection for her sister he found endearing. Elizabeth often argued with him and was one of the few females he was not intimately acquainted with who had ever done so.

  But her elder sister? He had never seen Miss Bennet behave with anything but the strictest propriety. She always appeared calm and sought to put others at ease. He had never seen anything but a pleasant countenance, even when she was recovering from her illness. Had he not noted earlier that her appearance was little affected by the passing of her mother? What lady could truly feel nothing at such a time, yet she hid her grief and sought to comfort others.

  How had Miss Bennet even learned how to comport herself in such a manner? Certainly not from her parents or their guidance. She had no example to follow as far as he had seen – perhaps the mother of a friend had guided her. She must have worked to model what behavior she saw in others. Being the eldest daughter of a ridiculous woman must have taught h
er at an early age to disguise her feelings. The insults from Bingley’s sisters were unlikely to be the first she had overheard in a crowded room. Yes, Miss Bennet’s mask was more than equal to his own.

  If she could disguise her distress so well, might she disguise other emotions as well? Darcy had never known a woman who did not take every opportunity available to display her interest for a gentleman she sought. Never, until possibly now.

  If Miss Bennet were truly determined to be the very model of propriety in company, would she not also disguise her feelings for a gentleman? Considering the manner her youngest sisters chased after officers, Darcy thought the eldest sister likely concealed her interest in gentlemen as well. Miss Bennet seemed to be the counterpoint to every poor behavior he had witnessed in the other Bennets. Logic would suggest that she would temper her displays of affection proportionally to the overexuberance of her youngest sisters.

  Darcy stayed by the wall and continued to watch Miss Bennet with a new respect. He had done her a disservice in assuming he could recognize the feelings of others while at the same time believing he could disguise his own from everyone else.

  He was not the only one who wore a mask in public.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mr. Bennet paced his library with a glass of brandy. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance. A gloomy day to be sure, much like the mood of Longbourn.

  It was time. Much as he would prefer to delay this conversation further, he needed to speak to his daughters. He had made up his mind, had even spoken to his brother Gardiner to ensure the man would not be offended by the decision. His brother had smiled and wished him luck, perfectly understanding the necessity of action.

  Still, Mr. Bennet stayed in his library, watching the rain fall in the garden. He should have called Lizzy and Jane in yesterday, or in the days before, but had been able to reason that his decision was not yet final and he should not burden them unnecessarily over an event that may not come to pass. Now that the time to act was upon him, he wished, more than anything, that he could ignore it as he so often had in the past and go back to reading in his haven of peace and quiet.

  Somewhat disgusted with himself – had he not only yesterday determined that he would cease this tendency to escape from unpleasantness by ignoring it? – he put down his glass and rang for Hill.

  “Please send Elizabeth and Jane in to see me,” he requested, then sat at his desk and waited.

  “Papa, you wished to see us?” Elizabeth asked a few minutes later from the open doorway.

  “Yes, yes. Do come in Lizzy, Jane.” He waved them over and gestured to the sitting area as he rose from his desk.

  “First, how are your sisters today?”

  “Much the same as they have been. Lydia continues to alternate between incoherent sobbing and complaints about how drab mourning clothes are.” Elizabeth remarked in irritation. “Kitty and Mary visited with Maria Lucas earlier before the rain started.”

  “Good, good.” He could see more irritation cross his daughter’s face and knew she had expected more from him. He had seen that look often of late, but had chosen to ignore it. He hated that he had to ignore it now, but could spare no more time speaking of his other daughters if he was to get to his purpose in calling them.

  Mr. Bennet paced in front of the fireplace, aware that Elizabeth and Jane shared an anxious look. He had never been one for idle movement and rarely came out from behind his desk when he allowed visitors. They were both intelligent girls and he was not surprised they had picked up on his unease.

  “Forgive me, girls,” he said at last as he stopped in front of the window and looked out at the rain. “I find myself desirous of your thoughts on a matter, yet I find myself hesitant to speak.”

  “Is something the matter, Papa?” Jane asked anxiously.

  “No, nothing is the matter, Jane, besides the same problems that have long plagued us. Do not make yourself anxious, I have no new bad tidings to deliver. I am attempting to remedy what issues I can.” He turned away from the window to face his daughters.

  “I have been a poor planner for you and your sisters. As a young man, I always assumed I would have a son to inherit and take care of any unmarried children when I passed. Once it became obvious I was mistaken and there would be no son, I should have practiced greater economy to provide for your futures, but your mother . . .” he trailed off and looked away. No, he would not say anything against their mother. Despite her fears for her children, she had been unable to economize. As he had done nothing to force the issue, the fault was his.

  Clearing his throat, he continued, “Nevertheless, I failed to provide for your futures. I find myself in a position now where that failure has forced me to act. Were you and your sisters already married, or in any other way secure in your futures I would be content to live out my life here alone in my library. As you are not, I find myself in need of a wife in hopes of producing an heir who will see to you once I am gone.”

  Elizabeth and Jane looked to each other, warily, and Mr. Bennet gave a grim chuckle.

  “I am well aware, in ways I was not as a young bridegroom, that there are no guarantees in life. I may well end up with no heir and additional daughters in need of future support. Yet I see little alternative.”

  “Sir, do you think now is the best time to make such a decision? Perhaps waiting a while will give you better clarity on your options. Certainly, there can be no great urgency to decide right now.” Elizabeth was obviously uncomfortable providing marital advice, and under any other circumstances he would have found the situation immensely diverting. His Lizzy was a sharp one and he had long praised her for her good judgment. Perhaps he had puffed up her vanity on that score, but could see no harm in the girl having confidence in her own fine discernment. He almost wished he could hear what other advice she might offer, as it was likely to be at least as sensible as any offered by someone actually married.

  “Do not worry, Lizzy, I am not planning to elope next week,” he replied with a forced chuckle. “Nevertheless, your mother’s passing has given me a greater sense of urgency in making plans for you. No man likes to think of his own mortality, but I must admit I worry how much longer I will be here to care for you. No,” he raised his hands to calm his daughters, seeing he had frightened them, “No, do not worry, I have no immediate concerns nor reason to suspect my time may be short. My family history, however, does not bode well for me. I am fifty years old. My father died at the age of fifty-two, and his father and uncles did not live past the age of fifty-one. I would be a fool if I did not consider their ages when evaluating how much longer I may survive.

  “I can and will start preparing better for your futures when I pass. The most significant change I could make, however, would be to produce an heir and see that you have a secure home. To do so, I must remarry. It is because such a decision would bring about great change that I wished to speak with you both.”

  He came near and put a hand on a shoulder of each daughter. “This is your home, for however much longer it may be, and I do not wish you to be made uncomfortable in it. One of my primary concerns would be to find a wife suitable to join our family, not one who would cause great upheaval.” With a great sigh, Mr. Bennet walked back to the window and once more gazed out upon the rain beating down on the garden. It seemed he was not ready to fully abandon old habits of avoidance.

  “Your younger sisters need guidance. I trust the two of you to set a good example and correct them when necessary. I need to see to their education more than I have. I let your mother . . .” Again he paused, censuring himself for the trail of thought he had followed. No, it was not their mother’s fault that he had not enforced any discipline, and placing any blame on her was grossly unfair and unkind as well. He had given up any efforts to check their behavior long ago. He had been a poor husband and father and must now accept his responsibility for the results.

  Mr. Bennet blinked a few times and cleared his throat before continuing. “I have allowed them to become
silly and boisterous and grow into exactly the sort of person I desire to avoid in marriage.” He paused, again gathering his thoughts, before forcing himself to continue.

  “If I am to go forward with this idea, I need to marry a woman of good sense and steady judgment, but not one so rigid in propriety as to be lacking a sense of humor. If I am to live the rest of my life with someone, I wish her to be a woman with whom I can have both serious discussion and laughter, preferably at the same time,” he concluded with a self-deprecating smile.

  “I loved your mother.” He stopped to collect himself. “I would not have married her if I had not. When I first met her, it was her laugh and the obvious pleasure she took in everything she did that caught my eye. I had found a lovely and lively girl who enjoyed my company and I imagined a long and happy marriage to follow.

  “People change over time. Life throws out the unexpected and unfortunate and each of us must make our own way forward. I came to realize that talking in ballrooms and at parties provides a shallow image of a person, and more importantly, I had poorly judged my own needs.” Mr. Bennet again turned back to the window to escape any reproachful looks his daughters might send his way.

  “The cracks in the ground between us, that neither of us had noticed in those ballrooms, began to grow wider. Worse, neither of us made enough of an effort to bridge the widening gap. Instead we retreated further away from the ravine forming between us.” Mr. Bennet lapsed into silence thinking back on that confident, cheerful girl he had loved, the one with whom he had shared his dreams for the future. The only sound in the room came from the rain tapping against the window.

  After several minutes, he again cleared his throat and turned to his daughters. “I say this not to disparage your mother, nor to discourage you on chances of marital felicity, but because it has been weighing on my mind these last weeks and I do not wish to make the same mistake again. A man of fifty understands a great deal more about the world than a man of seven and twenty. I do not expect a love match, but I will find a companion compatible with my habits and outlook. I would not have you fear I would choose a lady who would cause constant conflict in our home.”