Mr. Darcy Came to Dinner

by Jack Caldwell

  The four others shared a look. “That is advisable, sir,” allowed Fitzwilliam, “but we had in mind a more permanent solution to our problem.” He then outlined their plans.

  At the end of the colonel’s recitation, Mr. Bennet nodded. “Your plans sound effective — and expensive. I wish you good fortune.”

  “Mr. Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam patiently said, “there is a reason we have brought you into our confidence. We need your assistance.”

  “Me? Whatever for? How can I help you?” Mr. Bennet frowned. “You do not need money, do you? For if you do, I must sadly decline.”

  “It is not a matter of funds but of legitimacy,” said Darcy. “We must go and speak to your neighbors. Your presence in our group as head of one of Meryton’s most prominent families will help loosen tongues and encourage trust.”

  “I thank you for the compliment, but I would rather not.”

  “But, sir,” cried Bingley, “we need your assistance most urgently!”

  “Oh, I do not think so,” Mr. Bennet gently rebuffed him. “You are popular enough about the village, Mr. Bingley, and I am sure the merchants will be more tempted by the money in your purse than by the attendance of an old man like me. Besides, this sort of business is not my cup of tea.”

  “I must insist upon you participation, no matter your personal aversion to it,” Darcy said. “This enterprise cannot have any possibility of failure, for there is more to this state of affairs than a few debts.” He had anticipated Mr. Bennet’s reluctance and launched into his prepared argument. “Forgive me, sir, but your daughters may be in danger.”

  “Oh, come now. I may be a gentleman, but compared to you, I am a pauper. My girls are too poor to be the target of a fortune hunter.”

  “Lack of funds will not stop Wickham in matters of this sort.” Darcy paused. “Nor status of birth.”

  Mr. Bennet blinked. He had obviously thought Wickham not as bad as this. “You are saying he is capable of dallying with a lady of gentle birth? To affect the ruin of a girl that is by no means defenseless?” He sat up. “By Jove, it is so great a violation of decency, honor, and interest as to make it difficult to believe even Mr. Wickham capable of it.”

  Darcy was grim. “I believe him capable. Indeed, I know him capable. I possess proofs that cannot be denied showing that he has been profligate in every sense of the word, that he has neither integrity nor honor, and that he is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating. Even now, I support two consequences of Wickham’s debauchery at Pemberley — one a farmer’s daughter, the other the only child of a local attorney. Both were promised marriage, but after the ladies found themselves in distress, Wickham was nowhere to be found.”

  Mr. Bennet turned white. “I see.” He seemed to consider his guest’s claims. “The assistance provided to those poor unfortunates — you are very generous, sir. Many would do differently.”

  Darcy shrugged. “They are my people. What say you, sir? Will you join us?”

  Mr. Bennet sighed resignedly. “It seems I must.”

  “Excellent.” Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his hand. “We shall begin first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. The others took Mr. Bennet’s words as a joke.

  Fitzwilliam continued. “We require one thing of you, sir: a list of the merchants in Meryton that a solider would most likely frequent and who are not opposed to extending credit. That way we may be able to plan our calls with greater efficiency.”

  Mr. Bennet looked pained. “You need this today?”

  “Within the hour would be best,” the colonel said.

  “Shall I get you pen and paper, sir?” offered Bartholomew.

  Mr. Bennet groaned and got to his feet. “No, I have sufficient store of both in my book room.” He made for the door but turned back just as he reached it. “Today?”

  “Yes, if you please.” Fitzwilliam smiled.

  Mr. Bennet sighed again, turned, and left, saying as he closed the door behind him, “The things I do for my family.”

  Chapter 7

  THE NEXT DAY DAWNED as cloudy and rainy as the days before, thwarting Elizabeth’s plans for a long walk. The weather prevented any visit from the ladies in residence at Netherfield but not from the gentlemen. To the surprise of all and the consternation of some, the object of Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s visit was not to call on Mrs. Bennet and her daughters but to collect her husband to accompany the gentlemen on what was described cryptically as “business in the village.” Mr. Bennet had given no indication that he was to undertake such an errand and, as he left, gave no clue as to what the business might be. This, of course, gave rise to much speculation by the Bennet ladies, so much so that hardly anyone noticed that Bartholomew had joined their company.

  The ladies were in the sitting room, and many were the theories bandied about. Mrs. Bennet was sure that Mr. Bingley had run into difficulties at Netherfield and needed Mr. Bennet’s assistance. Lydia was having none of that. She was convinced, despite the total absence of corroborating evidence, that the gentlemen were instead planning a surprise ball for the coming week, a conjecture eagerly endorsed by Kitty. Mary was certain that such sensible men would not waste their time on trivial matters, but she could give no opinion as to their real business. Jane was undecided, as was Elizabeth, but unlike her sister, Jane voiced that it was indeed possible that either Mrs. Bennet or Lydia was correct. Kitty, true to her inconstant personality, wondered aloud if they both could be correct, a suggestion roundly rejected by the others assembled.

  Jane had just turned to ask Elizabeth’s opinion when Mr. Collins made his first appearance downstairs in two days.

  “Madam,” said he to Mrs. Bennet, “as you know, my leave of absence from Hunsford extends only for another week. Therefore, may I solicit the honor of a private audience with your fair daughter Elizabeth during the course of this morning?”

  One could hear a pin drop in the aftermath of this request. Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered, “Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy — I am sure she can have no objection. Come, girls, come away. I need you all upstairs.”

  The matron gathered her work together, and the other girls rose to their feet in differing manners of expression — Jane concerned, Mary shocked, and Kitty and Lydia amused.

  “Mama, do not go, please,” Elizabeth called out. “Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that we all cannot hear.”

  Mrs. Bennet paused for a moment, hesitated, and then said, “No, Lizzy. I desire that you stay where you are.” Upon seeing Elizabeth’s vexed and embarrassed look, she added firmly, “I insist that you stay and hear Mr. Collins.” She concluded in a more hopeful voice, “All will be well, my dear.”

  Elizabeth could not oppose such an injunction, and after a moment’s consideration, she deemed it wise to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible. She sat down again. Mrs. Bennet and the others walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.

  “Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life.

  “But before I am run away by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying — and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”

  The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with any emotion made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use the short pause he made to gather his thoughts to stop him from continuing further.

  Mr. Collins then launched into a rambling monologue on the subject of his motives for matrimony. Every girl dreams of a declaration of love and dev
otion from her lover, and Elizabeth was no different. Mr. Collins’s speech, for all his talk of emotions, was as far from this lady’s ideal of a proposal as any man could make. Rather than beauty, character, kindness, and love, Mr. Collins spoke of duty, economy, and deference. The most outrageous statement he made indicated he was led to seek an alliance with the family at Longbourn not out of a personal desire to bridge the breech between the Bennet and Collins families, but solely on the advice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh! He claimed that, should his choice of wife satisfy the exacting standards of that august personage, the grand dame would condescend to visit her.

  “Allow me to observe, my fair cousin,” he said, “that I do not calculate that Lady Catherine de Bourgh will hold her most justifiable resentment over her nephew’s un-gentlemanly abandonment of the lovely Miss de Bough against you or your family as long as proper deference is paid. No one of your station could influence someone of Mr. Darcy’s rank. Therefore, there must have been some great negligence in his upbringing for him to so throw off all notions of duty and what is owed to my most exalted patroness, his aunt.”

  The reader may be assured that this statement did away with any amusement Elizabeth may have felt in listening to his ridiculous proposal, but Mr. Collins continued too quickly to be interrupted.

  “The fact is, as I am to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father, I could not satisfy myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible when the melancholy event takes place. This has been my motive for securing my life’s companion from Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your esteem.”

  Mr. Collins was wrong — very wrong. Any respect Elizabeth might have had for the gentleman due to his profession dissipated as her anger rose at the clergyman’s crass reference to the entail. She had decided within five minutes of meeting him that Mr. Collins was the last man on Earth she could be persuaded to marry, and every word now uttered by the vicar reinforced that resolve.

  Mr. Collins was, of course, ignorant of his object’s revulsion of his person. “And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection,” he pompously proclaimed. “To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature on your father since I am well aware that one thousand pounds, which will not be yours till after your mother’s demise, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly silent, and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips after we are married.”

  Elizabeth felt it was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. “You are too hasty, sir. You forget that I have made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honor of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them.”

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, the man only smiled. “I know it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept when he first applies for their favors and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am, therefore, by no means discouraged by what you have just said and expect to lead you to the altar ere long.” He took a step towards her. “Let us seal our inevitable agreement with a kiss.”

  “No!” Elizabeth cried, to no avail. Mr. Collins continued towards her, for he was not to be denied. She spun about, took to her heels, and dashed out of the room.

  Mr. Collins followed closely. “Such behavior is uniformly charming!”

  Rather than flying up the stairs, the impulse of a moment found Elizabeth in the parlor occupied by Mr. Darcy and the maid Sally. She did not falter at their astonished looks but continued into the room until Mr. Darcy’s sickbed was firmly between her and the door — and her most determined suitor.

  “Mr. Collins,” she panted, “I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies who is so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time! I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.”

  “What the devil is going on?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  “Mr. Darcy, this is a private matter,” said Mr. Collins. “Elizabeth, come away. It is not proper for my betrothed to be in the room of a gentleman.”

  “Excuse me?” sputtered Mr. Darcy before turning to Elizabeth. “Betrothed?”

  “Mr. Collins is mistaken,” Elizabeth insisted. “I have refused his proposals. He must withdraw.”

  “You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin,” returned the clergyman with a smile, “that your refusal of my addresses is merely words of course. It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy of your acceptance or that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my connections with the family of de Bourgh, and my relationship to your own are circumstances highly in my favor.”

  “Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Darcy, “the lady has refused you.”

  “Inconceivable! She knows better than that.” Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth, and his smile dissolved into a sneer. “My dear cousin, you should take it into further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Besides, I will one day be the master of Longbourn, and I shall extend my charity to my family,” he emphasized the word, “as Our Lord commands.”

  Elizabeth gasped at the flagrant threat. Mr. Collins had virtually avowed that should Elizabeth not marry him, Mrs. Bennet would indeed starve in the hedgerows! She could say nothing at present, but Mr. Darcy felt no such restraint.

  “How dare you, sir.” Mr. Darcy did not bellow as he had when under laudanum. He did not even raise his voice. Instead, he enunciated in a cold, clipped, unemotional manner. The effect was that each word slammed into Mr. Collins like a blow. “How dare you speak so to the daughter of a gentleman? You would use your power over a young lady’s family to satisfy your base desires? By God, sir.”

  Mr. Darcy, red-faced and furious, threw off the bed sheet and struggled to rise, causing Mr. Collins to cringe in fear. Fortunately for Elizabeth’s sensibilities, he wore breeches. Sally dashed to Mr. Darcy’s side, but he would not heed her requests to lie back and instead used the young maid’s shoulder as support. His look was deadly, his appearance frightening. His eyes were blazing, and had they been swords, Mr. Collins would be pinned against the opposite wall.

  Mr. Collins tried to placate him. “Sir . . . sir, you misunderstand! I meant no such thing!”

  Mr. Darcy was relentless. “I warned you, man. I warned you against angering me. You should be happy I am immobile, for if I could stand on my feet unaided, you and I would meet on a field of honor, you scoundrel. I would take great pleasure in puncturing your pompous exterior and feeding your carcass to the pigs. You are no gentleman and deserve no courtesy whatsoever.” Mr. Darcy lowered his voice further. “Heed what I say, for my mind is no longer clouded by laudanum, and I will fulfill this vow: You will withdraw, man, and you will no longer impugn yourself upon the ladies of this house, or heaven help me, I will see you destroyed.”

  Elizabeth was transfixed by the scene. Judging by Mr. Darcy’s frigid voice, his trembling fists, and Mr. Collins’s blanched response, she had not a shred of doubt that Mr. Darcy meant every word he said and that Mr. Collins knew it, too. Sweat broke out on the parson’s face even though the air was rather cool. He took first one and then a second step backwards before fleeing the man who had just declared himself the Bennet family champion.

  Once the echo of Mr. Collins’s flight up the stairs died away, Mr. Darcy sagged against the bed, a groan escaping his lips.

  “Oh, sir!” cried Sally. “Now see what you’ve done! You’ve done that rascal proper, but you’ve taxed yourself overmuch! You must lie
down, sir!”

  Mr. Darcy’s distress spurred Elizabeth into action. “You must return to bed,” she demanded as she moved to help the maid.

  “Miss Elizabeth, do not,” he weakly protested. “It is not suitable that you assist me.”

  Elizabeth would hear none of it. “For what you did for me, it is the least I can do. Come, Sally, gently now.” Between the two of them, Mr. Darcy was reestablished in the bed, Elizabeth trying valiantly not to take notice of his state of undress or the solid muscle beneath his nightshirt. Trying — and failing.

  Mr. Darcy’s face was white with pain. “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? I hope you did not take fright.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Goodness, no! I am only thankful for your actions. But you are the one in pain, not I. Is there anything you can take for your present relief? A glass of wine — shall I have one fetched for you?” Sally began moving towards the sideboard, but Mr. Darcy forestalled her.

  “No, I am well.” He smiled. “I only want . . . ” His voice trailed off, and his eyes darkened as he stared at her. Elizabeth could not move for the world. Mr. Darcy’s lips moved as if he meant to say something but made no sound. Finally, he broke his gaze on her and said, “A bit of rest is all I need. It was an honor to be of service to you.”

  “Please do not do it again!” Elizabeth begged. “You might have reinjured yourself! You must take care and get well.” As an afterthought, she added, “Think of your poor sister!”

  Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and chuckled. “I am well rebuked. It shall be as you say.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Good. I will leave you in Sally’s capable hands. Rest now, good sir knight, for one never knows when another damsel in distress might be in need of a hero.”

  She excused herself and made her way to her bedroom upstairs, taking care that the hallway was empty of any sign of Mr. Collins.