A Case of Some Delicacy

by K C Kahler

  Mrs Bennet’s rate of breathing increased. “What is this nonsense you speak? Of course you will have him. It is your duty! The entail! Jane, do you want us all starving in the hedgerows when your father is dead?” This, to Mrs Bennet, was always the last word on any subject.

  “It is not my duty. I have always wished to marry for love. I do not love Mr Collins, and therefore, it would be mercenary for me to accept him. In any case, no offer of marriage was made, and Mr Collins has left us. Soon, the rumours of a betrothal will die down. I wonder how they ever started. I suppose people simply assumed too much too quickly.”

  The silence in the room was only broken by Mrs Bennet’s whimpering and keening. Elizabeth sat in awe of her elder sister—her obvious resolve, her subtle reprimand of her mother’s gossip-mongering. There was a new glow about her, a self-assuredness. Indeed, that must have been quite a stroll in the garden.

  Mrs Bennet finally broke into a wail, “What is to become of us? No one has consideration for my nerves! Such flutterings and spasms! All I wish is to see my daughters well married and secure, but everyone is against me! Ungrateful children!”

  The Bennet daughters knew well what was to follow if they did not act: hours upon hours of howling and bawling. Normally, Jane would comfort Mrs Bennet with her calming presence, but since Jane herself had provoked their mother’s “attack” this time, the girls did not know how to proceed. Jane moved towards her mother, hoping to soothe that which she had roused.

  She was immediately rebuffed. “No! You have been poisoned against me, my sweetest Jane.” Mrs Bennet turned on Elizabeth. “This is your influence! You ungrateful, meddlesome girl! You have been sabotaging my every effort at matchmaking! I care little for your security—you can foolishly throw away a wonderful gentleman like Mr Bingley as you wish. If that were your only offense—”

  “Mama!” Jane interrupted in a cross voice, which further shocked everyone in the room. She returned to her normal serene tone before continuing, “Do not blame Lizzy for this. It is my doing, and mine alone. You cannot make any two people fall in love just because you wish it. It would have been so much easier if I could love Mr Collins, but I cannot, and as he is an honourable man, he deserves better.”

  Mrs Bennet returned to whimpering. Jane changed the subject. “I am very happy you invited Mr Bingley and his party to dinner on Saturday. How will you arrange the seating to encourage conversation?”

  Mrs Bennet wiped at her eyes and sniffled. “L-Lydia must sit next to Mr Darcy, of course. Her vivacity will liven him up.” Elizabeth felt a surge of protectiveness for Mr Darcy come over her, and it troubled her.

  “Yes, of course. And what will be served? How many courses?” Jane asked. Elizabeth could see that she was successfully manipulating their mother, another first.

  “I…I must speak with Cook about it.” Mrs Bennet rose from her seat. “You really will not have Mr Collins?”

  “No, I simply could not. I am sorry.”

  “Mr Bingley seems very fond of you, does he not?”

  Jane blushed and looked down. “I believe he is.”

  “And you are fond of him?”

  Jane swallowed and looked around the room. Elizabeth knew that to admit such a thing in front of her talkative mother and sisters would be a great leap for Jane, who guarded her emotions very closely. “Yes, I am.”

  Mrs Bennet shot a reproachful look at Elizabeth. “Then Jane will sit between Mr and Miss Bingley at dinner. I have so much to plan! Cook! Cooook!” Her voice trailed off as she exited the room.

  Nobody moved for some time except Mary, who began writing furiously again, as if the interruption had set her behind on her extract.

  Elizabeth could contain her praise no longer. “Well, that went much better than it might have. Jane, you handled her splendidly! If Papa took lessons from you, we might see more of him!”

  “Wait,” Kitty interrupted with a shake of her head. “Jane is for Mr Bingley now? But what about all of Mama’s efforts to match him with Lizzy?”

  “Kitty, Mama is not the final authority on who will marry whom. It was perfectly obvious, even on the night of the assembly, that Jane and Mr Bingley…enjoyed each other’s company.”

  “I did not notice anything.”

  Lydia laughed. “Of course you did not. You always miss such obvious things. Sometimes I wonder whether you have eyes and ears.”

  “But everyone was talking about Jane and Mr Collins. How was I to know that it would be Jane and Mr Bingley instead? Why did no one tell me?”

  Elizabeth tried to be gentler with Kitty than Lydia had been. “Because it was not certain. It is indelicate to speak about potential engagements and courtships before they are official. If you ever have questions about such things, do not blurt them out when other people are present. Wait until you are alone with any of us to ask.”

  Kitty nodded. “Thank you, Lizzy. I shall ask you or Jane.”

  “You may ask Mary too. She can advise you about these matters as well as Jane or I.”

  “What about me?” Lydia demanded. “I could see that Mr Bingley mooned over Jane just as well as you could.”

  “Yet you went along with all of Mama’s schemes for him and for Mr Collins without question.” Lydia appeared unhappy with this observation but did not contradict it. Elizabeth addressed her two youngest siblings. “Do you see how much trouble the gossip about Mr Collins has caused poor Jane? She and Mr Bingley could have been courting properly all this time if only he knew the rumours about a forthcoming betrothal were false.”

  Jane began to protest but was interrupted by Lydia. “Mr Bingley is much better than Mr Collins, Jane. I am happy for you.”

  Jane blushed again. “Lydia, Lizzy, nothing is settled. Nothing has even been spoken, really.”

  Elizabeth seized the opportunity for teasing. She spoke to her younger sisters again. “Oh, but it will be soon, I am certain. He is half in love with Jane already. You should have seen them at Netherfield together. They were all bashful blushes and quiet tête-à-têtes.”

  “Do tell us all about it, Lizzy!” cried Lydia. “I suppose, for Jane’s sake, it is better that Papa insisted on her staying at Netherfield instead of me. But oh! How I wish I could have stayed too! I should have turned my ankle. Mr Darcy would have carried me around all week, and he would be half in love with me by now!”

  Elizabeth shot an alarmed look at Jane. Had she told the others about Elizabeth’s trips up and down Netherfield’s staircase in the arms of Mr Darcy? Jane shook her head slightly, indicating she had not revealed that bit of information, but then she grinned. Elizabeth reconsidered her plan to reveal all the romantic details of Jane’s Netherfield stay to Kitty and Lydia for fear of some sort of retribution from her much-altered sister.

  “But Lizzy, tell us about Mr Bingley’s behav—” Kitty stopped suddenly, a terrified look coming over her face. “But who must marry Mr Collins now? Mama insists he is coming back.”

  “Not I—I am for Mr Darcy! And not Jane either. It must be one of you three!” Lydia announced before Mary’s persistent scribbling distracted her. “Good lord, do you extract the entire book? I cannot understand why you should continually make extracts from books you already know from memory.”

  Mary placed her pen down and folded her hands, muttering about the devil’s workshop.

  Elizabeth brought them back to the subject at hand. “None of us must marry anyone if we do not wish it. Papa would never force us into a marriage. Mama may carry on about one couple or another, but we need not oblige her. If we did, Jane would have married that fat Mr Burns who wished to court her when she was sixteen.” Kitty and Lydia snorted at the memory.

  Elizabeth continued, “And Mama certainly has no sway over the gentlemen involved, otherwise John Lucas would have proposed to me two years ago. These gentlemen have minds and wishes of their own; they are not simply trophies to be won or prey to be trapped.” Elizabeth did not mention Mr Darcy, but she knew by Lydia’s frown that she ha
d already made the connexion.

  Elizabeth looked at each of her younger sisters in turn before continuing. “Choosing to marry is the most important decision of a lady’s life. You need not settle for the first man that asks you. I wish to share common interests with my future husband, to find mutual respect and affection with him. We should all strive for such a marriage.”

  “Your sister is wise, girls.” All five ladies turned to see Mr Bennet standing in the doorway. “Many people come to regret imprudent marriages made under the influence of silly infatuations or monetary concerns. I wish better for my children. I shall never force you to accept any man, no matter how rich he is or how your mother carries on.” He glanced at Mrs Bennet’s empty chair. “I can offer you that much at least, if not a very secure future. I leave it up to each of you to find the best way to balance your security with your happiness. I hope you find both.”

  Elizabeth was quite sure Mr Bennet had never spoken so seriously to Lydia or Kitty before. She sent her father a warm smile. Her relationship with him since her return had been somewhat tentative as each discovered its new limits. They spoke more openly now, rather than just the superficial witty banter they had shared before. Mr Bennet would always prefer retreating to the quiet of his books rather than confronting his wife, but he was making some effort to improve his youngest daughters. Elizabeth acknowledged and accepted his nature now, yet she continually encouraged the positive steps he was taking.

  Mr Bennet could not speak seriously for long, however, and his normal wit soon intruded. “As I understand it, one of my daughters has made a significant movement in the direction of both security and happiness today. The very embodiment of security and happiness wrapped up in one five-thousand-pounds-a-year package, a man called Mr Bingley, was spied through my library window walking out with my eldest daughter. Though my eyesight is not all that it once was, Jane and this Mr Bingley looked quite cosy, even under the eager eyes of their chaperones. So Jane, shall I make an effort on Saturday to converse with your Mr Bingley, or would you rather I discourage him?”

  “Papa…” Jane sighed. “He is not my Mr Bingley.” Jane’s cheeks were the reddest Elizabeth had ever seen them.

  “Not yet,” Kitty corrected.

  Jane recovered slightly. “I should hope you will be friendly and polite, and thank him for his kindness to Lizzy.”

  “Indeed, I shall. I see you are being tight-lipped, Jane, something I greatly appreciate in any of the six females who share my house, so I shall tease you no more. Instead, I should like to speak with Elizabeth, if I may steal her away from you all for a moment.”

  He offered his hand to help Elizabeth rise and walk with him into the library. He closed the door behind them. and they settled in their chairs.

  “Now, Lizzy, tell me your impressions of this momentous visit today.”

  “Mr and Miss Bingley seemed at odds somehow, though they talked and laughed as if there were no tension between them. It was very peculiar. I believe Mr Bingley’s visit was a declaration of sorts about his intentions towards Jane.”

  “But you detect dissension from the fashionable Miss Bingley? How can anyone disapprove of Jane?”

  “Miss Bingley disapproves of everyone in Hertfordshire. We are not rich or connected enough for her. But I think she is resigned to her brother’s decision. She was the one to suggest they walk in the garden, a suggestion Mr Bingley seemed to appreciate.”

  Mr Bennet considered this for a moment before observing, “Mr Darcy did not accompany his friend today.”

  Elizabeth dreaded the subject but kept her voice indifferent. “No, apparently he had estate matters to attend to.” She added with a roll of her eyes, “Lydia was quite disappointed by his absence.”

  He chuckled, though Elizabeth knew his levity was as forced as hers. “It is just as well. A prominent man like Mr Darcy may find amusement among normal people for a while, but he will go back to his great estate, his important family, and his superior society, and forget all about his few months spent among us. Anyone who hopes for more from him is bound to be disappointed.”

  This was not the first time Elizabeth had heard similar speculation about Mr Darcy. Logic told her it must be true, though deep down… “I must agree with you and with Miss Bingley, who said much the same to me while the others were walking in the garden. Of course she has her own special way of elevating Mr Darcy and diminishing everyone else.”

  “Oh dear, we find ourselves in agreement with Miss Bingley. Will wonders never cease?”

  They shared a smile before Elizabeth broached a delicate subject. “Papa, as you know, the Netherfield party is to dine here Saturday. Will you speak to Lydia about her behaviour towards Mr Darcy? I doubt Mr Bingley would mind her antics, but there is no need to give his sisters further reasons to disapprove of us.”

  He sighed. “I shall speak to her as best I can, Lizzy. But I do not wish to cast Mr Darcy as the forbidden fruit. It would be much better if she simply becomes bored with his taciturn nature.”

  “But he is not always taciturn, Papa. When the mood strikes him, he can be quite a lively conversationalist.” Mr Bennet eyed her, and she wished she had kept that opinion to herself.

  “I very much doubt the mood will strike him to converse energetically on any topic Lydia may bring up. But I suppose we shall see on Saturday. In the meantime, I shall speak to Lydia. Please send her in when you go.”

  Elizabeth rose and kissed his cheek, which he accepted with some surprise for it was an unusual gesture. “Thank you, Papa.”

  As she left the library, Elizabeth repeated to herself: We shall see on Saturday.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stared out his window, not seeing any of the countryside stretching before Netherfield. For the last ten days, he had thrown himself into physical and mental exertion in an attempt to rid his mind and heart of a certain young lady. He had not had much success, but Darcy blamed circumstances beyond his control rather than any lack of determination on his part.

  First, it was Bingley. When not singing his angel’s praises directly, he somehow managed to relate everything back to Miss Bennet no matter how unrelated the subject. Naturally, with a certain young lady’s sister’s name constantly in the ears, Darcy could hardly help thinking of the young lady herself. Bingley and his Miss Bennet had come to an understanding of sorts, though an unspoken one for now. Bingley was confident she returned his feelings, and Darcy knew it was only a matter of time before his impulsive friend formalised the understanding by asking for a proper courtship. For only the second time in his life, Darcy envied someone. His jealousy of John Lucas was merely a blind, mindless reaction to that man’s past and possible future with…a certain young lady. But Darcy’s envy of his own friend was quite different. He envied Bingley’s freedom to choose whom he wished as well as his somewhat foolhardy resolve to ignore all other concerns but those of the heart.

  The second reason for Darcy’s failure to remove a certain young lady from his thoughts was quite simple. He had dined with that very same young lady less than a week ago in her home. Miss Elizabeth’s company had been as ever delightful despite the behaviour of her mother and the singular concentration of her youngest sister on him. He had even allowed himself the pleasure of one unencumbered conversation with her, a supplement to their previous literary discussion. This time, Mr Bennet participated to some extent—when he had not been eyeing Darcy suspiciously—but it did not detract from Darcy’s enjoyment. On the contrary, her father’s participation only lent a further sparkle to Elizabeth’s fine eyes. During such a conversation, he could completely forget about Mrs Bennet’s bewildered stare and Miss Lydia’s petulant pout, and he paid no heed to Bingley’s foolish grin, Miss Bennet’s serene smile, and Miss Bingley’s scowl. Miss Elizabeth was seated nearly as far away as possible at the table, but to him, it was as if no one else were in the room. If only…

  Darcy checked his thoughts. It would not help at all to dwell on the impossible. He resolved not to think about
dinner at Longbourn or any of the other precious memories involving Elizabeth Bennet, at least until he left Hertfordshire. Then he could relive them all—which he knew he would—without fear of slipping in his resolution. He was scheduled to leave in four weeks’ time, but Darcy began to doubt his own abilities to withstand temptation for that long. Perhaps he should hasten his departure to town. He could not leave before Bingley’s ball, however, which would take place in a se’nnight. He owed his friend that much.

  There was a knock on the door. With his permission, a footman entered bearing a letter from Rosings. Darcy sat down to read, happy for a distraction. It began in the usual way; Anne asked after his and Georgiana’s health, and commented on news she had received from other members of the family. But then she moved on to the topic that had lately filled their letters to each other: unsuitable attachments.

  How did you enjoy dinner in company with your L? I saw C. last week. It will likely turn out to be the highlight of my November. Melancholy seized me so fully afterwards, that Mother declared I was relapsing and nearly called back that old fool apothecary, Mr Mortimer.

  What a lovesick pair we make, Cousin. After reading your last letter, I must admit to a shameful sort of satisfaction that you now suffer in love as I have for the last half year. At least we can commiserate over our impossible attachments. Thank goodness you sent Tess and Roger to us from Pemberley. There is nothing as invaluable as a loyal servant except of course, a pair of them! I have never been more grateful for their help in exchanging our secret letters. Who else could understand my struggle as you can?

  I must admit to another bit of mischief. I have been applying to Mr Collins for information about all the young ladies of Hertfordshire. (He is only too happy to oblige, as you can imagine.) I had quite given up discovering your secret, for none of the charming L.s he described, given names or surnames, seemed likely suspects. But then, clever cousin, an idea struck me: nicknames! Have no fear; your secret is safe with me. It is only fair that I know the identity of your beloved since you are actually acquainted with mine.