A Dishonorable Offer

by Timothy Underwood

  “We are to be the best of friends, are we not?”

  “Yes. We are. So then there is nothing wrong with me saying so much. Please know, she was not so bad before Papa died.”

  “Did she love your father so much?”

  “No — they were, it is hard for a child to tell, but I remember them barely being fond of each other. She mourned that he left her with so little money, not the loss of him.”

  Darcy mumbled as he pulled his horse alongside with them, “My father was much the opposite.”

  Elizabeth squeezed his wrist. “I…I can tell it still hurts you. That you miss your mother. And your father.”

  “I was a little older than you were when your father died. It was a year apart, twelve and thirteen. But, my uncle was the best of guardians. He…he has always dedicated himself to ensuring I received the education he believed would make me happiest. And…what you said about living life to the fullest…that is what he always tells me to do.”

  “I think you do.”

  “I hope so. But sometimes…it is hard to know what I should do.” Darcy looked at the path pensively. Elizabeth squeezed his wrist kindly. He looked back at her sweet and striking face. She had such pretty black eyebrows and long eyelashes. Such perfect brown eyes. She did not break their gaze quickly.

  Darcy at last said, “Do tell me more about Jane. What happened when your mother’s money ran out?”

  “We went to London. It was us two sent there because Mama wanted us to find husbands. We were happy for a while. But Jane is becoming desperate. No matter how beautiful Jane is, young tradesmen want a wife who brings capital.”

  “Did she have no serious suitors?” Darcy tilted his head.

  “One — Mr. Thomas. He was almost fifty and a widower with several sons. Jane had no affection for him. He didn’t want to understand Jane or care for her. He only wanted to possess such a beautiful wife. Lydia’s marriage made him abandon Jane on the point of offering. I was happy when we returned from London, because…she would not have married him, not when she had no affection for him, but I worry for my sister. I am glad she does not have the guilt refusing would have given her.”

  “You think she should have refused. You cannot think — she will not marry well. Not without money, and with your new connections it is even more impossible.”

  “Jane will marry someone who she can love, and who sincerely cares for her. I must believe and hope that. I must. She is too good and sweet. She was not meant to be unhappy.”

  “Fate is not always kind. There is great unfairness, injustice — that your sister too deserves better does not change her situation. Hope will not bring a suitor.”

  “I know. But I must hope. I know that every single member of England’s gentry is a fool. You need not preach acceptance of that reality to me.” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed brightly. “Jane is perfect, and only a fool would ignore her due to her connections and lack of money.”

  Darcy opened his mouth. He should not have said as much as he already had.

  Elizabeth slumped her shoulders. “Forgive me. I should not rage so. And each person has a duty to look after their own interests first. But I am worried. So worried. Oh I never admit it even to myself, but she might never marry, and I do not think she can be happy as a permanent dependent.”

  “Do not apologize. I should not poke at a tender point. We do not know what the future brings. I can hope she will marry very well indeed. If only your sister had some money.”

  “Yes — poverty is an even greater sin than being Lydia’s sister. Responsible young men feel they must have some money. I cannot blame them. It is difficult to establish a career. Oh, I sometimes feel as though I would do anything if I could get Jane a dowry.”

  Anything?

  Darcy immediately thought that her moral compunctions might be silenced if he provided her sister with enough money to find a man to marry.

  But that would not do at all for him. He didn’t want her to ignore her compunctions because she cared for Jane more than herself. He wanted her to see such concerns as superstitious social hypocrisy. If she agreed to be his mistress to help Jane but felt guilty and dirty… He didn’t want her to feel guilty.

  He wanted her to be happy. He couldn’t touch her unless she truly wanted him to.

  At the way Darcy froze Elizabeth hurriedly said, “I don’t mean I would actually do anything. I would not take up highway robbery, or poison off someone’s rich old uncle.”

  “Then what would you do?”

  Elizabeth blushed very red and shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “My mind goes in quite silly directions — and I will never tell you what thought made me blush — but it was quite absurd. I do not know, perhaps it is merely an expression.”

  “Suppose we took up highway robbery together. How much would you need to steal before there was enough for your sister?”

  “Oh, I would not be so greedy — really. When I fantasize about it…I give her five thousand pounds. It is what Mama wasted. It would not be above the station she was born into.” Elizabeth added hurriedly, “I know that must be but a trifle to you — but to someone in Jane’s position it would mean everything.”

  “Five thousand is more than a trifle for me. But not very much. You are not extravagantly greedy in your fantasies.”

  “Should I be?”

  Elizabeth looked at him directly with her eyebrows raised. Darcy looked aside. “Thank you for telling me of your sister.”

  Elizabeth’s smile when she replied was soft and sad. “I do…I really do understand her situation. But she was meant to be a mother and a wife."

  “What about your own situation? The scandal affects you as much.”

  “Oh. I am not selfish. I will not think of myself in this case. Besides, I can be happy anywhere.”

  “You do not expect to marry? Are not family and children part of most girl’s dreams? I beg you not to reply with your quip that a short, bald man will marry you at last. What do you really hope?”

  He peered at her closely, waiting for a reply.

  Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, nibbling at her lower lip. “My dreams were never focused on marriage. Jane wants that. But for me…so many marriages I see are unhappy, or just tolerable. I cannot stand the thought of such intimacy without great affection. I would far prefer to remain a spinster, so long as I am a spinster aunt, than to marry without the deepest affection. I know women are expected to only feel complete once married, but I enjoy my life as it is at present. I am completely happy.”

  “You cannot want to stay…” Darcy hesitated. He didn’t want to poke at her again. “I am glad that you are happy.”

  “Mr. Darcy, despite the doubt in your voice, I really am happy. I love the countryside, I adore my friends and my sister, and I have my books. I do not need material things.”

  “It is not…material things are not of so great importance. But while you are brave and determined, over time… I do not think life in Mr. Phillip’s house will seem so palatable forever.”

  A frown marred her face. “Well, there is nothing I can do on the matter. So I’ll not let it make me unhappy.”

  Darcy nearly said: What if there was something you could do. Something that seems wrong, but really is not, not in any important way. She cared too much for her friends and sister. They were the center of her life.

  But she could not stay in her uncle’s house forever. And he wanted her more than ever.

  Darcy shook all those thoughts away. He should focus on the present. “I hope you are never unhappy. Never. Enough somberness. Miss Elizabeth, let us go towards happier topics.” He grinned at her, and at first hesitatingly and then happily, Elizabeth grinned back. “Choose the next subject.”

  Chapter 9

  Jane could not recall ever looking so well as she had these past weeks.

  She sat in Charlotte’s dressing room at Longbourn while Charlotte’s maid did the final touches to her hair. Lizzy grinned at her and Charlotte thoughtfully
tapped her cheek. Jane knew she always looked well, but she saw in the mirror that today there was an extra glow about her cheeks and eyes. The yellow curls hung neatly about her cheeks and ears and lilies had been woven into her hair forming a small halo.

  Elizabeth cried, “My Jane looks perfect!”

  Charlotte nodded at Elizabeth’s enthusiasm, tapped her cheek for few seconds more, then she clapped her hands enthusiasm. “Mary, bring my blue cashmere shawl — the one Mr. Collins bought last time we were in London. I am certain Miss Bingley has never seen me wear it.”

  They were going to a party held by Charlotte’s parents at Lucas Lodge, and as had become their habit since Bingley entered the community, Elizabeth and Jane had gone to their friend’s house to dress. Charlotte thought there was some hope that she could catch Mr. Bingley, and Jane made no pretense to herself: she wished to catch him.

  It was not delicate or proper, but she did not care. She would use any trick she could think of to convince him to marry her.

  Charlotte was not romantic. She believed that a woman ought to try for the best catch she could find, and then fall in love at her leisure following the wedding. Jane could not let herself fall in love with Mr. Bingley, because she would end heartbroken if she did.

  The shawl was brought and arranged in pretty folds around Jane’s shoulders. It was very soft, and Jane ran her fingers over the luxuriant material. The color matched her complexion perfectly. She had had such a shawl for her own once. But they had sold it to cover a debt to one of Meryton’s shopkeepers. She knew she should not lust after pretty things, but Jane very much missed her old life before the money ended.

  Elizabeth suddenly squeezed her hard about the shoulders. “Aren’t you glad I made you talk to Bingley?”

  Jane schooled her voice, reminding herself she could not let herself be in love with him. “Yes. I do like Mr. Bingley very much, and I am glad we are friends. He is such an amiable gentleman.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip and appeared as though she wished that Jane had said something more passionate.

  Jane dearly loved her conversations with Mr. Bingley. She had never liked a gentleman so much before. It would be so easy to fall in love with him.

  Bingley was so kind; when she had lost half of Elizabeth’s money at the card party, he happily gave her a dozen shillings to make it up. It had been improper for her to take the money from him, but being proper had never helped her.

  “Oh, I am so happy!” Elizabeth squeezed Jane again and exclaimed, “Everything shall turn out well. I know it. These days I feel so happy, as though nothing can go wrong.”

  The reflection of the two sisters made a very pretty picture in the mirror. Jane accepted that her acquaintance with Mr. Bingley would end in nothing. Even if it was becoming hard not to hope, just a little.

  Jane worried for Elizabeth. Elizabeth did not even realize she was falling in love with Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth had always been the strong one, invulnerable and able to survive anything. But what would happen when Elizabeth realized she had fallen in love, but Mr. Darcy was just playing?

  Charlotte stood now that they were all dressed and ready. “I talked to my father yesterday, and later in the evening we will clear the drawing room and make Mary play some dances."

  Elizabeth clapped enthusiastically. “Delightful idea. There are never enough dances. We shall make sure Jane and Bingley dance for a quite long time."

  “And you with Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth laughed and blushed.

  “Also, Lizzy,” Charlotte continued, “You shall play a little. I know that you are out of practice, but you appear to good advantage when singing.”

  “Do you think?” Elizabeth grinned and raised her eyebrows. “But I am not trying to impress anyone.”

  “That is no reason not to impress him.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  Dressed and beautiful, the group from Longbourn walked across the quarter-mile of fields to Lucas Lodge. It was a pleasant afternoon, with a low wind that did not make their hair blowsy. While she did not walk near as much as Elizabeth’s hour every morning, Charlotte was a walker, and she preferred not to call her carriage when unnecessary. Even though they had no entail to worry about and a son, the Collinses were quite frugal.

  If Mama and Papa had been like that, her life would not be so wrong.

  Mr. Collins held his wife’s arm, and he spoke in his slow but amiable manner about what he would do to prepare the garden for the next spring over the winter months. Charlotte nodded. His manners were still excessively studied — though Mr. Collins had improved enormously since coming into the estate and marrying. He was not at all handsome like Mr. Bingley.

  Mr. Bingley was too perfect for her to have any hope of it ending happily. In the future, if she ever saw another opportunity like Mr. Collins or Mr. Thomas, she would seize it.

  Mary walked at Jane’s side, with her severe bun pulling the skin of her forehead back tight. It reduced what little beauty she could claim to nothing, but Mary never wished advice from Jane or Elizabeth on such matters. She said little, and what she did say was about how much effort she’d put in of late to mastering drawing. In the past years, since they had lived in different houses, Mary and Jane had grown even further apart. They did not share interests.

  Elizabeth smiled and hummed under her breath.

  She was in such a high mood. Jane was so glad Lizzy had returned to Longbourn with her. Their life with the Gardiners had been more pleasant, and Mr. Gardiner did not hate them like Mr. Phillips did. Jane thought Mama also hated them, or at least Elizabeth. If she were separated from Elizabeth by some accident of fate, would they grow different the way she and Mary had?

  Jane vowed to herself that no matter what occurred, they would always feel so close.

  They were effusively greeted by Sir William. Mama had already come to the party with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, and she looked over Jane and Elizabeth. After a careful scrutiny Mrs. Bennet said, “Hmmmph. You look very pretty, Jane. Nothing shall ever come of it. If only you had met Mr. Bingley before Lydia ruined us all. Lizzy, your curls are out of arrangement. Make some effort. Even though it will be useless.”

  Soon officers and other guests began arriving. There was plenty of pleasant conversation and handsome redcoats. There was something dashing about a uniform, even though many officers in the militia were undisciplined and poor.

  The room filled with the happy din of conversation. The Lucases had crammed the punch table with excellent wines and little snacks. Sir William loved to entertain, not to impress his neighbors, but so that he could see them all happy and conversing with each other.

  The mahogany wood of the piano gleamed in bright candlelight from the chandeliers. Mary had already sat down at it, preferring not to talk much in a crowd of this sort, and she was softly playing on the ivory keys some simple air that made a fine accompaniment to conversation.

  Then he arrived with Mr. Darcy.

  Bingley wore that close fitted blue coat he’d worn at the assembly when he danced with her. The play of his face and eyes as he looked around and then brightened on seeing her entranced Jane. He and Mr. Darcy immediately walked to where Jane and Elizabeth stood with several officers. Jane knew she looked exceptionally well, especially in Charlotte’s fine shawl. She smiled brightly at Bingley, instead of checking herself over a last time.

  Bingley took her hand and said with warmth and enthusiasm, “Hello, hello. Miss Bennet, I am so pleased to see you again.”

  Happiness bubbled in her breast at his eager manner. “And I am very pleased to see you.” Charlotte had said she should try to show more than she felt if she hoped catch him. Jane fought her natural inclination to hide her feelings and bit her lip and blushed, saying awkwardly, “It would have been a…it would be impossible to enjoy the party without you.”

  Bingley almost frowned at that. Jane wondered if she was too forward. He would just leave if he thought she had any hopes. He was always so caref
ul to not talk beyond the limits of a polite conversation. He always went to talk to someone else after twenty minutes.

  In a rush Jane added, “That is too say, Charlotte plans for us to dance later tonight, and you are a better dancer than anyone else. You have a mastery of the art. Elegant. I mean nothing else.”

  Bingley brightened. “Of course. And I shall be delighted to partner with you.”

  Darcy said something to Elizabeth, and she laughed with a pealing ring. Mr. Darcy had a self-satisfied smirk. The officers they had been speaking with before looked annoyed at how the new gentlemen had seized the attention of the pretty girls. Jane hurriedly addressed a remark to Captain Denny, who smiled and replied amiably. Jane felt her anxiety for Elizabeth again. Her sister was too happy.

  Darcy seemed an honorable gentleman who would not flirt so much with one unmarried girl if he had no serious intentions. Maybe there was some hope.

  Like clockwork, after twenty minutes Bingley left to talk with other acquaintances. Jane felt a small hole grow in her stomach as she watched him from the corner of her eye. He looked so fine and the back of his jacket fit tightly about him as he talked to John Lucas and Mrs. Long.

  This was Lydia’s fault.

  Damn the slut.

  Jane tried to push her sudden desire to find Lydia and scream and scream at her away. Jane wanted to be happy and herself. Elizabeth would be shocked if she knew what she’d just thought.

  Darcy continued to attend on Lizzy, his handsome face sporting a real smile, not that perfect dimpled look he showed to every woman, but something that only appeared when Lizzy teased him. Maybe Darcy wouldn’t break her sister’s heart.

  Jane knew that her features and skin were more perfect than Lizzy’s, but there was a light and liveliness in Elizabeth that she didn’t have. If one of them were to marry so very well, despite everything, it was much more likely to be Lizzy. Jane liked that. Her sister deserved every happiness.

  Mr. Darcy’s gaze showed he was entranced. He could see what made Lizzy so special and dear. But Jane was no fool. Such things rarely mattered. Great gentlemen never marry the pretty sisters of someone like Lydia. Mrs. Dirt.