Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  Some sensible part of her mind warned, Lizzy will be furious if she learns I have read her letter, but what if she should not have received in the first place? Well, I will just look at a sentence or two; if it is nothing, I shall put it back where I found it.

  With a sly smile, Lydia unfolded the paper and began to read.

  Be not alarmed, madam, upon receiving this letter. In my eyes, you have ever been a lady of refinement, grace, wit, beauty, and good sense.

  “Oh lord,” Lydia snickered, “What sort of billet-doux praises

  a lady’s good sense? Wickham would never write anything so foolish.”

  I seek only to express my appreciation for the great favor you did me in our meeting at the parsonage.

  “Oh, a meeting at the parsonage. Was it dinner or tea?” she murmured. “No doubt Mr. Collins was there. How perfectly dull!” Then she glanced at the signature and felt a renewed sense of interest. “A gentleman … well now.”

  You were well justified in rejecting my ungentlemanly offer, and I can only be heartily ashamed at my behavior toward you.

  “An ungentlemanly offer from a gentleman,” she said with growing excitement.

  I have long reflected on your words, which showed me how far I have fallen short of the man I wish to be. Please know that I continue to strive to correct those flaws in myself that made my previous offer so repellent to you.

  “A repellent, ungentlemanly offer! Oh lord!”

  I hope in time you will forgive me my trespasses. Indeed, my fondest wish is that we will again spend quiet mornings in long walks without the prattle or the prying eyes of others. Those memories of our time together are amongst the happiest of my life. Your letter has changed me for the better. God bless you. A Gentleman

  Lydia gasped. What sort of offer had the gentleman made, and why was it ungentlemanly? Had he asked Elizabeth to be his mistress when she was at Rosings? But who? The only men she mentioned in her letters were Mr. Collins, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Breathlessly, Lydia considered each possibility. “Mr. Collins is married. Mr. Darcy is far too priggish. This must be from the colonel!” For a full minute, she was completely silent. Then, not bothering to close the bureau drawer, she raced downstairs, bellowing, “Papa, Mama, you must see this!”

  ≈≈≈

  Bouncing excitedly on her toes, Lydia watched as her father leaned against the doorway of his study and read Elizabeth’s letter. What will he say when he learns his favorite daughter has corresponded in secret with a gentleman! Surely Lizzy’s transgression far outweighs any foolish little thing I might have done on a few rare occasions.

  Mrs. Bennet, who had not read the letter, fanned herself with her handkerchief. “Does Lizzy have a suitor? Why has she not said? Has she rejected another proposal? Selfish, selfish girl!”

  Mr. Bennet, following a fitful night’s sleep, had awakened with feelings of discomfort that only intensified as the morning progressed. When his youngest daughter had shoved a paper in his hands and insisted it was a secret of Elizabeth’s, his first inclination was to disbelieve her. Thus, it was with a skeptical eye that he read the short letter once and again before he spoke. “How did you come by this, Lydia?”

  “I found it.”

  “Where?”

  “In Lizzy’s room.”

  “On top of her bureau? In the middle of the floor? Was it in plain sight?”

  “Well, plain enough sight if one were looking for something to trim a bonnet.”

  “So, you have brought me an unsigned letter that you obtained by pawing through your sister’s possessions. Tell me, did she give you permission to look in her bureau? And you know I will ask her the same question.”

  “Permission? Well, not in so many words.”

  “In how many words?”

  “We are sisters. We always share things.”

  “I do not recall a single instance in which you willingly shared so much as an apple with your sisters,” Mr. Bennet said sternly.

  Fluttering her handkerchief, Mrs. Bennet asked, “But is it important how Lydia obtained the letter? Is not the real matter whether Lizzy has a suitor … a gentleman whom she may have rejected? Is not the real matter whether our daughter has been compromised?”

  Eager to guide her father’s thoughts on the matter, Lydia said, “The letter mentions ‘the parsonage,’ so it must mean her stay at Hunsford. There were only three gentlemen there. Mr. Collins, whom she despises—and he is married! Mr. Darcy, whom she also despises, and the colonel. It must be Colonel Fitzwilliam who made her some sort of offer!”

  “Oh, goodness, such a charming man and the second son of an earl,” Mrs. Bennet said, pleased at the possibility. “Is his older brother still in good health, do you think? Imagine Lizzy as a countess. No, that seems more a role for Jane or my Lydia here.”

  Mr. Bennet knew if he did not take control of this situation, at best it would grow into a tempest that threw the household into turmoil; at worst, it would become a scandal within the neighborhood, damaging not only Elizabeth’s reputation but the reputation of the entire family. Giving his wife an annoyed glance, he said, “I suspect this paper, which says nothing of consequence, is a joke.”

  “A joke, sir? But do you think some gentleman—”

  “Anyone can sign ‘a gentleman’ without actually being one,” Mr. Bennet said.

  “Lizzy cannot fool me,” Lydia insisted.

  “I believe she already has. All of your sisters have complained to your mother and me about your rummaging through their belongings and taking things without asking.”

  “But—” Lydia began.

  “Have they not, Mrs. Bennet?”

  “They have, Lydia,” she admitted to her youngest.

  “Indeed, daughter, we have discussed this on other occasions, which I recall, even if you do not.” The dull headache Mr. Bennet had had since he awoke was worsening. “I vow, child, you have the morals of a magpie when it comes to other people’s possessions.”

  “Why do you say Lizzy has fooled me?” Lydia demanded, hoping to change the subject.

  “Has it not occurred to you that she herself wrote this so she might catch a thief?”

  “I am not a thief!”

  “This letter in my hand proves otherwise. You are a thief and a mischief-maker. Imagine what will happen when your sisters

  learn of Lizzy’s clever ruse for exposing you? The next time you invade their privacy, you might be subject to even worse tricks!”

  “That would be unkind,” Lydia said, pouting.

  “It would be justice, but would you learn from it? What would it take for you to behave like a gentleman’s daughter?”

  Lydia sniffed, trying not to cry. “You are a gentleman; I am your daughter. Thus, I am in all ways a gentleman’s daughter.”

  “Not so!” Mr. Bennet snapped. “Your behavior, which often borders on the embarrassing, is a thing apart from your place in society.” Addressing his wife, he said, “Madam, kindly escort your daughter to her room, making certain she does not enter the rooms of any of her sisters. You, Miss Lydia, are to remain in your room until breakfast time.”

  Mrs. Bennet placed an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “Husband, do you not think you are being a bit harsh for a minor matter between sisters who—”

  “Hush! I am done with this. Leave me!” Mr. Bennet exclaimed, ignoring the furious look his wife gave him before she shepherded Lydia upstairs.

  Still leaning tiredly against the door of his study, Mr. Bennet shifted slightly to look out the window at the garden where his daughters enjoyed a game of croquet with their friends from Netherfield. Studying Fitzwilliam and Darcy, he murmured. “Is either of you good enough for my Lizzy? Her lively talents place her in great danger of an unequal marriage. It would break my heart if she was unable to respect her partner in life.” Aware that his wife and his youngest daughter, each for her own reasons, would fret over the letter as a dog worries over a bone, Mr. Bennet knew he needed a
nswers if he were to have peace in his home.

  ≈≈≈

  Kitty was the first to notice when her father came out into the garden, and she crossed the lawn to meet him. “Have you come to join us, Papa?”

  “No, but I shall sit awhile at the table there.” He took her arm, and when she felt how he clung to her, she slowed her pace.

  “You seem tired, sir.”

  “A bit. Nothing to worry about.” Sitting heavily in the chair at the table under the tree, he said, “Go back to your game, my dear, but first ask Lizzy and the colonel and Mr. Darcy to come to me.” Within a minute, Elizabeth was walking toward the table where her father sat; flanked by Darcy and Fitzwilliam, she had a hand on each man’s arm. Mr. Bennet scrutinized the trio carefully, yet he noted nothing furtive in their expressions.

  “Hello, Papa. Kitty said you wanted to see us.”

  “Sit, please, Lizzy.” The gentlemen remained standing as Elizabeth sat across from her father. Wearing a tense smile, Mr. Bennet took the letter from his pocket and tossed it on the table.

  “My letter!” Darcy and Elizabeth exclaimed simultaneously, although his voice was guttural while hers was a gasp. As she blushed, he smiled to himself: She kept my letter!

  Fitzwilliam looked from Darcy to Elizabeth to Mr. Bennet. “Am I the only one who does not know what this is about?”

  “Congratulations, Colonel, your innocence in this matter has just been confirmed. You may leave us now, as your cousin, my daughter, and I have a puzzle to resolve. Mr. Darcy, please sit.”

  “Good day, Mr. Bennet,” Fitzwilliam said. After giving his cousin a clap on the back, he returned to the others. So, my morally rigid cousin, you wrote her back!

  Darcy took the chair beside Elizabeth’s. Hoping his voice sounded calmer than he felt, he asked, “How are you today, sir?”

  “Perplexed but determined. Did you write this letter signed ‘a gentleman’?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Elizabeth said, “In Mr. Darcy’s defense, I wrote him a letter first. I signed it ‘a lady.’”

  “An excellent disguise; no one would mistake you for a lady if you wrote a letter to a man to whom you are neither related nor engaged,” Mr. Bennet said, giving her a pointed look. “So, Mr. Darcy, what ungentlemanly offer did you make to my daughter?”

  Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged brief glances, each hoping the other understood that they would not address his most recent proposal and her acceptance. Then, giving his full attention to Mr. Bennet, Darcy said, “I proposed marriage to Miss Elizabeth.”

  “If it was an honest proposal, why does your letter say it was ‘ungentlemanly’?”

  “Because it was probably the rudest proposal in the history of the world.”

  Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth. “Is this true?”

  Reluctant to criticize the gentleman to whom she had recently pledged her heart, she said, “I would not say it was the rudest proposal. Mr. Collins’s offer was also quite dreadful.”

  “Do not toy with me, Lizzy. Did you reject Mr. Darcy’s offer?”

  “I did, Papa.”

  “What about these long walks away from the prying eyes of others—presumably, without a chaperone? Please explain.”

  “You know how I love to walk,” Elizabeth said. “And when the weather was fine at Rosings, I would ramble along the paths. On the morning I encountered Mr. Darcy, it seemed silly to interrupt my ramble to go find a chaperone to join us.”

  “Why did it seem silly?”

  Darcy said, “Because your daughter disliked me and never imagined I would offer her marriage. At the time, however, I was under the impression she had a tendre for me.”

  “Then you should have arranged for a chaperone!”

  “Yes, sir, I should have.”

  “How many walks? How often?” Mr. Bennet asked Elizabeth.

  “I am not exactly certain,” Elizabeth said, looking at Darcy. “There was that first walk when we met by accident.”

  Mr. Bennet looked at Darcy. “Did you meet by accident?”

  “Yes, but when Miss Elizabeth mentioned the path was her favorite, I began walking there regularly in hopes of meeting her.”

  Recalling the day, Elizabeth gave a little laugh. “I said that so you could avoid me on future walks. I was certain you did not wish to be in my company.”

  “Yet I thought you were encouraging me to meet you there.”

  Oh, for pity’s sake! Mr. Bennet thought. “On these walks, you simply conversed?”

  “Mostly we walked. Mr. Darcy dislikes idle conversation,” she said. Wincing, Darcy nodded.

  “And yet, sir, you thought yourself to be courting Lizzy?”

  “I did, sir, fool that I was.”

  “Are you less foolish now?” Mr. Bennet rubbed his left arm absently.

  “I hope so. Any improvement to be seen in me of late is the result of questions raised by Miss Elizabeth in the letter she gave me after she declined my proposal.”

  “Do you have the letter with you? I should like to read it.”

  “No, sir. May I ask how you came across this letter I wrote?”

  “Ah, well. My youngest daughter, who is annoyed at being excluded from society, is a rather spiteful creature. She found it when she was rummaging through Lizzy’s things.”

  Elizabeth made an exasperated noise. “Papa, we have all talked to Lydia about this!”

  “Yes, my dear, and as with every other topic your sister does not wish to hear, she ignored our remonstrations about privacy and personal property. Thus, I suggest you find a better hiding place for anything you do not want to see in Lydia’s hands. By the bye, she believes the author of this is Colonel Fitzwilliam. Also, your mother is seeking a means of parlaying the letter into a proposal from somebody … anybody.”

  “Papa, I am sorry to have overstepped the bounds of propriety, but I assure you nothing untoward occurred between Mr. Darcy and myself at Rosings.”

  “Truly, sir, our brief conversations in Kent are best described as a comedy of errors, although they did not so at the time.” Darcy chose his words carefully as he described the past.

  Mr. Bennet slouched in his chair, reflecting upon what he had heard. However, Elizabeth, concerned by his appearance, leaned over and put a hand on his arm. “You do not look well, sir.”

  “What every father wishes to hear—that he is ill-looking.”

  “You will not put me off with joking. How do you feel?”

  Mr. Bennet covered her hand with his and sighed. “I agree there is nothing particularly salacious about this note. But do not tell your mother of Mr. Darcy’s proposal.”

  “I won’t.”

  “So long as the knowledge of this letter—and I insist you take possession of it, Mr. Darcy—remains within the walls of Longbourn, we just might brazen it out.”

  “Yes, sir,” Darcy said.

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Darcy tucked the letter into his waistcoat pocket, hoping his face did not show his delight that Elizabeth had kept it. When Mr. Bennet said nothing more, Darcy stood, considering the interview to be at an end. Elizabeth remained seated, however, her hand still on her father’s arm.

  “Is there something else, my dear?” Mr. Bennet asked.

  “If I bring you some willow bark tea, will you drink it?”

  Mr. Bennet was torn between calming his daughter’s concerns and telling her the truth. “I admit to some tiredness and a bit of pain, more like a pressure, about my,” pausing, he gestured at his chest and stomach, “my middle. But these are to be expected for an old man such as myself.”

  “Will you drink the tea?” she persisted.

  “Probably not.”

  “If I add honey and bring your favorite biscuits, will you take a few sips, please, to ease my mind.”

  Mr. Bennet sighed again. “Probably.”

  “Kindly excuse me, gentlemen, for I have an important task.”

  27

  “Mr. Bennet has had some sort of attack!
”

  As Darcy watched Elizabeth hurry into the house, Mr. Bennet watched Darcy. Finally, he barked, “Kindly sit, sir. I do not like people to loom over me.”

  Startled, Darcy gave Mr. Bennet a tentative smile and sat. “My apologies.” He thought, Surely there is no harm in telling him of our agreement, but I must speak with Elizabeth first.

  “I will tell you why I wish for this matter to go away. I accept that you and the colonel are gentlemen. Some would say you are above my daughter in consequence; however, I do not concur. I consider my daughters and myself to be your equals.”

  “I agree, sir.”

  “And know this: I have yet to find anyone who is Lizzy’s equal in intelligence, wit, diligence, and graciousness.”

  “I agree with that as well.”

  He scowled at Darcy. “It would devastate me to see my darling girl forced into a marriage with a man who does not recognize her for the jewel she is. While I realize that men of your wealth marry for reasons other than affection, this would not do for my Lizzy.”

  “Miss Elizabeth deserves nothing less than the deepest love, respect, and admiration from the man who wins her hand.” It seems I have underestimated how much Mr. Bennet dislikes me.

  “Our entire family is aware of how you insulted Lizzy at the assembly last year—and of your habit of staring at her with great disapprobation.”

  “I was wrong, and I have apologized.” He was unaccustomed to being scolded, yet for the sake of the future he hoped to have with Elizabeth’s family, Darcy maintained his composure, realizing that these thoughts had been festering in Mr. Bennet’s mind for some months.

  “Did you return here solely for the purpose of bringing Mr. Bingley back to my Jane?”

  “In fairness to Bingley, I merely encouraged him to follow his heart.”

  “Have you followed your heart, too? The last I knew of the matter, you did not approve of any of us in Hertfordshire and, to be frank, none of my daughters cared for you.”

  “Miss Elizabeth told me so in person and in her letter; I will be forever grateful to her for revealing me to myself. Should you bless the match between Bingley and Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth and I will be in company on occasion. Thus, I am here now to show I that have heeded her words so she can be at ease with me.”