Elizabeth Bennet's Impertinent Letter

by J P Christy

  Darcy knew his words did not truthfully reflect his feelings for Elizabeth, but he feared Mr. Bennet would disapprove of their commitment to each other. I have only just won her! Given time, I will gain the approval of her family, but I cannot risk having her father discourage her from me.

  For several silent moments, Mr. Bennet glared at the younger man. Good lord, I am beginning to like this fellow a little bit, although I wish I didn’t. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “Fair enough, sir. Well, I expect you are a busy fellow, and we at Longbourn cannot expect you entertain us for the entire day.”

  Is he actually sending me away before I can say goodbye to Elizabeth? Darcy wondered.

  As if reading Darcy’s mind, he said, “I will give Lizzy your farewell. Don’t worry—you may call another day, but I wish for you and the colonel to be out of Mrs. Bennet’s sight for now.”

  “I understand. Good day, sir.” Seeing Mr. Bennet grimace when he nodded, Darcy added, “If I may say so, you seem unwell.”

  “Are you a doctor as well as the master of the largest estate in Derbyshire?” Mr. Bennet growled. “I would not have thought a man of your consequence would have time for such study.”

  “No, sir. Good day.” Reluctantly, Darcy farewelled the Bennet daughters, and very shortly he, his sister, and his cousin were mounted for their return to Netherfield. At their abrupt departure, Kitty looked at her father, wondering what had transpired, but he was staring off into the distance, unaware of her regard.

  Elizabeth returned with her father’s tea and some biscuits in time to see Darcy wave before he and the others turned their horses toward Netherfield. As she set the cup and plate on the table, her father said, “They will all return another day, my dear.” He sipped the tea cautiously and was pleased. “You’ve done well in disguising the bitterness.”

  “Thank you. Although I am lacking some of the qualities of a lady—such as painting a screen or netting a purse—I do have a few useful talents.”

  Mr. Bennet drank more tea and ate a biscuit before speaking again. “In essence, I told Mr. Darcy that I do not want to see you forced into a marriage you would not choose for yourself. So, no more letters between you any male person to whom you are not, at the very least, betrothed.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Elizabeth hoped the guilt she felt did not show on her face. I must talk with Mr. Darcy; perhaps, we could reveal our engagement now.

  “As for Mr. Darcy’s letter, I shall tell you what I told Lydia and your mother. Afterward, you can escort me to my study, where I will take a nap if you concur that I should, Dr. Elizabeth.”

  “A sound notion, sir.”

  ≈≈≈

  At Netherfield, Darcy drifted restlessly around the drawing room, unable to concentrate. Deception of any sort was abhorrent to him, yet he had just allowed Mr. Bennet to believe there was nothing more than friendship between himself and Elizabeth.

  She defended me today through the mention of her own letter—and she kept my letter. But will her parents forbid the match? Lydia is terrible girl! Her obvious flirting, her defense of Wickham, her attack on Georgiana, and now this! I will never allow our children to behave in such a manner, and I know Elizabeth will agree with me on this. Oh, good lord, Mr. Bennet would not be pleased to know I am already thinking of Elizabeth as the mother of my children!

  Darcy frowned as he pictured Mr. Bennet. Truly, the man looked quite ill. Should I send for Dr. Goldsmith? Would Elizabeth consider me officious, as when I sent for Molly, or would she appreciate my concern? It is not yet noon; mayhap medical expertise could arrive from London by tonight.

  He quickly wrote a brief note asking Dr. Goldsmith, his personal physician in London, to come to Hertfordshire or to send a competent colleague in his stead, and he added that a carriage from Darcy House would be at the doctor’s disposal.

  ≈≈≈

  Had anyone asked Mrs. Bennet about her feelings regarding her circumstances, the lady would have declared she was blessed with a good husband, five pretty daughters (no point in quibbling about Mary’s looks), and a comfortable home. And Mrs. Bennet believed that she believed what she said she believed. However, had she been pressed for details, she would have spoken at length about her nerves (no one gave sufficient consequence to what she suffered), her regrets (at having five unmarried daughters), and her fears (specifically the entailment of Longbourn, which meant she would lose her comfortable home upon the death of her husband). This unpleasantness with Lydia had vexed Mrs. Bennet almost beyond bearing. With anger simmering in her heart, she knocked on the door of her husband’s study.

  “Enter,” Mr. Bennet said.

  Opening the door, she found her grim-faced husband reclining on the well-worn sofa near the room’s small fireplace. He looked at her expectantly but, as was typical, he did not invite her to enter, so she remained in the doorway. “Did you speak to Lizzy?” she asked, her tone cool.

  “I did. As I suspected, it is all much ado about nothing. A joke. I do not enjoy this turmoil in my home, madam. Lydia must be curbed. Is she in her room now?”

  “She is.”

  “Good. We may have a peaceful dinner yet.”

  “How can you be so harsh, Mr. Bennet? She is just a child.”

  “If that is so, she should remain in the schoolroom until she can comport herself as an adult. You brought her out into our local society too soon, I fear.”

  “I do not recall you advising against it, sir!”

  “Point taken, my dear. The fault is mine.” When his wife made no reply, he asked, “Is there something else you wish to discuss?” His tone made it clear that he hoped she did not.

  “You said if I welcomed Mr. Bingley, he would offer for our Jane,” she accused. “The neighbors said he danced with her three times at the assembly! You have also seen how Mr. Ainsworth has singled out Mary for his attentions. And I cannot tell whether the colonel prefers Lizzy or Kitty. Yet, for all of these comings and goings of eligible men, there are no betrothals. If I could see but one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield and the other girls equally well married, I should have nothing to wish for. But it seems this is not to be, and the threat of poverty hangs over my head like the … the Greek sword.”

  “The sword of Damocles,” Mr. Bennet said automatically, but he blanched when he saw her furious look.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bennet, gentleman scholar! If only you took as much interest in your family as you do in your precious books! Lizzy could have married Mr. Collins. Should have married him! It would have saved us. But she refused, and you let her.”

  “Collins is repulsive and foolish.”

  “Mr. Collins will take away my home when you are beyond the cares of this world. Having Lizzy marry him would have been a small sacrifice compared to the good it would do for this family. She would have been mistress of Longbourn! All your daughters know she is your favorite!”

  “Just as they know that Lydia is yours, madam. And if I prefer Lizzy’s company, it is because she makes intelligent conversation; she speaks of matters other than lace and who danced with whom. For my part, I am glad she will not be mistress here; no doubt you would impose yourself into every decision. It would not be a happy household,” Mr. Bennet sneered, the pain he felt making him uncharacteristically blunt. “And if Collins had offered for Jane or Lydia. Would you have agreed to such a match?”

  “Jane and Lydia can do better.”

  “And you believe Lizzy cannot?”

  “I blame Lizzy for her foolish insistence on marrying for love.”

  “I assure you, Wife, she did not hear from me that marriage is a lifetime of mutual affection and respect.”

  Mrs. Bennet continued as if he had not spoken. “I blame her, but I blame you more!”

  Approaching with a cup of willow bark tea, Elizabeth heard her parents’ bitter utterances. Although they often sniped at each other, they rarely had confrontations such as this. Upon reaching the study, she said, “Excuse me, please, I have tea.” Mrs.
Bennet’s surprise at the arrival of her least-favorite daughter was such that Elizabeth was able to slip past her. “Papa, I have flavored it with lemon as well as honey this time,” she said, noting with alarm that her father’s forehead was shiny with sweat.

  “And you did not think to bring anything for me?” Mrs. Bennet asked. “Well, I should have expected as much.”

  “There is more willow bark tea in the kitchen, Mama. I will fetch it if you like.”

  “I would like for you to leave us. Your father and I are having a private conversation.”

  “Yes, talking in raised voices with you standing in a corridor!” he exclaimed.

  “Please, Papa, drink your tea.” Elizabeth helped him hold the cup as he sipped.

  The sight of Elizabeth assisting her father rather than obeying her mother’s command was further evidence to Mrs. Bennet that the two were united against her. “As I said, husband, I blame you both, but I blame you more.”

  “I assure you I feel the weight of my failures, madam. Instead of relenting to your incessant demands for fripperies, I should have insisted on putting away money for dowries.”

  “Into the hedgerows we will go when Mr. Collins and greedy—”

  “Oh, spare me your talk of hedgerows! As well you know, when I am dead, you and our unmarried daughters will move to Cooperwood Cottage. I have invested some money in your brother’s business. With those funds and your jointure, the cottage will be a comfortable home if you live simply.” Mr. Bennet struggled to stand, feeling short of breath as if a giant hand were squeezing his chest. “Is this my day for repeating my conversations? First Lydia’s pilfering and now you and your hedgerows!”

  Before Mrs. Bennet could respond, Mr. Bennet collapsed on the floor with a very final-sounding thud.

  ≈≈≈

  Standing on the portico at Netherfield, Darcy watched until the footman carrying his message was out of sight. “If this is unnecessary,” he muttered, “I will apologize; I am getting rather good at it.” Turning, he saw Fitzwilliam in the open doorway.

  “Another letter! Dare I ask who the intended recipient is?”

  “I have asked my physician to come to Hertfordshire; Mr. Bennet did not look well today.”

  “Beyond his understandable annoyance with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Surely, you have some details of your crime for me?”

  “Oh, very well! I wrote her a letter—nothing improper—”

  “Other than a gentleman giving a letter to a lady to whom he is neither married nor betrothed.” Such as my correspondence with my dear Master Penn.

  “Fitz, do you ever think that some of our social constraints are excessive?”

  “Good deflection. Are you now endeavoring to be useful to the lady’s family?”

  “If it is within my power to spare them the pain of losing a parent, I will do so.”

  “The old boy looked as bad as all that, did he?”

  “He did.”

  Norris entered the library to announce, “Nuncheon is served.”

  When Fitzwilliam and Darcy entered the dining room, they found Georgiana sitting in the host’s seat. “I doubt Mr. Bingley will be joining us, so I am seeing the room from his viewpoint.”

  The sound of horse being reined to a hard stop on the gravel drive caught everyone’s attention. “It’s Bingley—and in quite a hurry,” Darcy said, looking out the window.

  Fitzwilliam said, “It seems you will not be our host, dear.”

  As Georgiana was rising from the chair, Bingley rushed in. “Mr. Bennet has had some sort of attack—he collapsed! I notified Meryton’s apothecary before coming here. I shall go back to Longbourn, of course, but I thought you would want to know.”

  In an instant, Darcy was standing before Bingley with his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “Take a breath, friend. I have just sent a letter to my physician in London. I am confident that he or a colleague will arrive as soon as may be.”

  “How did you know?” Bingley asked.

  “When I spoke with Mr. Bennet earlier, I saw he was unwell.”

  “But he lives?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “He was unconscious but alive when I left,” Bingley said.

  “And Longbourn is entailed away,” Georgiana said.

  “That miserable Mr. Collins,” Fitzwilliam said. “If you wish to marry Miss Bennet, I suggest you propose forthwith; the parson will swoop in like a vulture when Mr. Bennet dies. As a husband, you might be able to delay his claiming the estate.”

  Darcy added, “You might gain a bit of time for the ladies to resettle elsewhere.”

  “I decided to propose to Jane as I was riding here.”

  At the sound of a throat clearing, everyone turned to see Mrs. Pimset. “Shall I serve nuncheon now?”

  “There’s a crisis at Longbourn, and we ….” Bingley hesitated.

  “Yes, I heard, and it is regrettable. Still, you will all need to be strong for the Bennets, so I suggest that you take time to refresh yourselves with food. Eat as little as you wish, but this may be your last proper meal together for awhile as you see to the care of your friends.”

  Georgiana said, “Thank you, your recommendation is sound; you may serve the meal, Mrs. Pimset. Also, if you have suggestions as to how we might assist the Bennets in this difficult time, please share them with us.”

  “Yes, Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Pimset said and left to instruct the servants to bring out the meal.

  “Bingley, are you committed to marrying Miss Bennet?”

  “I am, Darcy, so if you intend to tell me why I should not—”

  “I have no such design. After our meal, I will ride to London to arrange for a special licence from the archbishop, if you wish.”

  Relief shone on Bingley’s face. “Indeed, I do! Thank you!”

  “I presume Miss Bennet is of age,” Fitzwilliam said.

  “Yes, and Mr. Bennet has said we have his blessing.”

  Georgiana smiled. “Something good may yet come of this tragic event.”

  ≈≈≈

  Following Mr. Bennet’s collapse, Lydia and Mrs. Bennet had remained in Mrs. Bennet’s room. Aloud, they blamed Elizabeth and her “joke letter” written to entrap Lydia. Privately, however, each wondered whether her own behavior might have contributed to Mr. Bennet’s attack.

  Meanwhile, the other Bennets divided the responsibilities of their world among themselves while they waited for Mr. Darcy’s physician. Jane would take charge of the household; Elizabeth would handle tenant matters and issues arising beyond the walls of the house; Kitty would be responsible for messages to and from the apothecary, their friends at Netherfield, and their relations in Meryton; and Mary would assist the others as needed and oversee the preparation of tinctures in the still room.

  “When we see Lydia,” Jane said, “I will tell her she is needed to provide comfort and company to Mama.”

  Mary suggested, “The four of us—also Mama and Lydia if they are willing—should continue to have dinner together every night so we may share our thoughts and draw strength from one another. Hill or the maid could sit with Papa for that little while.”

  “That is a wonderful idea, Mary,” Elizabeth said, and Jane and Kitty agreed.

  ≈≈≈

  At Castle Fal, Lady Penelope was dressing for dinner when she heard Renata’s voice outside her bedroom door. “Mamá, open the door, por favor.” When her ladyship opened the door, Renata entered carrying a box with both hands. “A courier brought this,” Renata said, setting the box on the bed. “I think Lady Fitzwilliam misses you.”

  Or Christopher. His mother does not have my direction … unless he gave it to her, unless something has happened to him. What if he has been sent back to the Continent? In an instant, she was sitting on her bed, holding the box in her lap. While the sender’s name was clearly written as Lady Fitzwilliam from Netherfield, Hertfordshire, the handwriting matched that on the direction Fitzwilliam had given her. Lady Penelope sighed
with relief; all was well. “Gracias, dear girl. Did you enjoy sailing with Hedrik today?”

  “It was wonderful! He said we will go again tomorrow.” Renata did an excited little dance where she stood but stopped suddenly. “Ay, perdón, Mamá, adults do not dance when they are happy.”

  “Not very often, no, but perhaps we should. There is no one here to see except ourselves, and I like your dancing,” Lady Penelope said. Renata kissed her cheek and hurried out of the room.

  This moment deserves a dance of happiness, her ladyship thought as she removed the wrapping paper, delighted to know Fitzwilliam was thinking of her. By the time she had read his chatty letter twice, she was late to dinner, where she found herself anticipating having quiet time alone when she might savor both his letter and the port he had sent.

  ≈≈≈

  After Bingley ate a hurried meal at Netherfield, he returned to Longbourn with the news that Darcy had sent to London for his personal physician. Then he stayed with the Bennets through dinner, although Lydia and Mrs. Bennet took trays in the latter’s bedroom. It was well past sunset when Bingley left for Netherfield, and a short time later, Dr. Samuel Goldsmith arrived in a Darcy House carriage.

  Jane and Elizabeth greeted him at the door and introduced themselves. Jane added, “We appreciate your coming so quickly and so far, sir.”

  “Where is Mr. Darcy?” Goldsmith asked.

  Elizabeth said, “He left for London on another matter shortly after he sent the message to you. We have made our guest room ready, sir, and we will prepare a dinner tray so you may have refreshment in our parlor or your room, as you prefer.”

  “Right now, I prefer to see my patient,” the doctor said.

  “Of course.” Elizabeth escorted Goldsmith to her father’s bedroom, answering his questions regarding her father’s collapse.

  Upon reaching Mr. Bennet’s door, the doctor took a moment to consider the young woman beside him. Clearly, she was not the hysterical type; indeed, she had an air of calm reliability about her. “I cannot promise all will be well, Miss Elizabeth, but I will promise to do my best.”