Talk Any Louder
Chapter Two
Longbourn was in an uproar. Mrs. Bennet had retired entirely to her apartments in a pique of self-pity and imaginary illness. Without the direction of their mistress, most of the servants were aimless. Jane, in whose care the Gardiner children had been left, tried to direct both the children and the maids, but neither group found her leadership inspiring. Even her natural optimism wavered in the face of so many setbacks. Mary moralized and lectured at all the people who needed it least. Kitty, the consummate follower, floundered about, trying to make a stand of her own while unsure of what that stance should be. She was at once put out that her father was angry with her, desirous of making sure everyone knew she would never behave the way Lydia had, yet also not convinced Lydia had done much of anything wrong.
Elizabeth arrived home fatigued and ill. She had, until now, regarded the Gardiners' carriage to be a superior vehicle. Three nauseating days spent pushing horses to their limit to return home as quickly as possible left her sore and queasy. Her nights on the road had been anything but restful. She had spent them lying awake. Whatever time she could spare from despairing over Lydia, she spent longing for Mr. Darcy. There would be no news of either until Mr. Gardiner reached London. Mr. Bennet would not find Lydia without Mr. Darcy's help and Mr. Darcy could not contact the family at Longbourn but through Mr. Gardiner.
Jane and the children had been keeping watch for the arrival of Elizabeth's party. No sooner had the carriage arrived at the door, than the five of them spilled out of the house. Mr. Gardiner handed first his wife from the carriage, who was immediately beset upon by her children, then his niece. Elizabeth took Jane's hands. "Oh, Jane," she said breathlessly, "has there been any news?" Elizabeth asked, though she knew there would be nothing.
"Oh, Lizzy, my mother will be so pleased you are come home," was Jane's reply. She was not equal to giving a negative reply, Elizabeth thought. The idea of her mother anxious to see her let Elizabeth know how adverse the situation had affected Mrs. Bennet.
"I shall see Mama right away," Elizabeth told Jane as they walked into the house. "How are Mary and Kitty?"
"Mary is holding up admirably," Jane answered. "She takes great comfort from Scripture." Privately, Elizabeth supposed Mary did not know what to think, but took great comfort in reciting words that sounded wise. "Kitty is in a dreadful state. She and Lydia were so close, and I think she feels the judgment of society the worst of us all."
"The news is generally known, then?" Elizabeth asked. She was too practical to think it could be hidden for long, but she hoped the family would receive a reprieve during the worst of it. Her bonnet, gloves and pelisse were left with Hill in the foyer. Jane followed her up the stairs.
"Almost from the start," Jane admitted. "We've also heard many accounts of Mr. Wickham's behavior in Meryton. He's left many debts, Lizzy."
"We knew what he was, Jane," Elizabeth said mournfully. "I should have made at least some of Mr. Darcy's account public."
"We had good reasons for not doing so," Jane added.
"Indeed, we did not," her sister countered. "We imagined that a man, who had shown no intention of reforming in the whole course of his life, may suddenly change for being in our neighborhood! We imagined that because he was leaving us soon, his character did not matter! It does not matter where he is, if he's to do harm to respectable people. And we are the ones who must suffer for that choice. I could bear it if it was only myself who had lost because of my choices, but Lydia is gone - perhaps forever! None of the rest of us will ever make a suitable match. Mama will never know any peace. She will worry about what will become of us until Papa dies, and then suffer the reality of every prophesy she's ever made."
"I cannot..." Jane began, "I cannot think it will turn out all that bad."
"Forgive me," Elizabeth sighed. "My imaginings are all dreary and hopeless. But, if we prepare ourselves for the worst, than we may be pleasantly surprised when it all turns out much better."
Before she was fit to appear before her mother, Elizabeth needed to refresh herself and change her dress. Clean skin, a fresh gown and the remembrance of Mr. Darcy's intent to forge onto London raised her spirits considerably.
When Elizabeth and Jane stepped into her mother's room, she was sitting in bed, conversing with Mrs. Gardiner.
"Lizzy, Lizzy, my dear Lizzy," her mother gushed out when she saw her second daughter, "You good girl, clever girl, we are saved!"
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged confused glances. "Has there been news?" Elizabeth asked. If any word had reached Longbourn, her assumption was that it would have reached Jane, acting as the head of the family in their father's absence and their mother's convalesce, before it reached the sickroom.
"There has, there has, you know very well there has!" her mother cried.
"I am sorry," Elizabeth stammered, "but I did not know. Pray, what is the news? Has my father found Lydia?"
"Your father," Mrs. Bennet harrumphed. "Your father is responsible for all of this, you know. Had he only taken us all to Brighton, like I wanted, Lydia never would have run off."
Elizabeth again requested that her mother share her news.
"My sister," Mrs. Bennet said, with a pointed look to Mrs. Gardiner, "told me straight away that Mr. Darcy has gone to London to search for dear Lydia."
"Mr. Darcy?" Jane repeated.
"Oh," Elizabeth said, feeling herself grow red and turning away, "yes, yes, that was his intention."
"What a clever girl you are, Lizzy," her mother cooed. "Now, I have always thought you too clever for your own good, but this was a good scheme and I dare say no one could have thought of it but our own sweet Lizzy."
At this, Elizabeth was confused, and told her mother so.
"Mr. Darcy is an unpleasant man and I despise the sight of him, you know, but he is so very rich. Such a proud fellow! Thinks himself quite above us all! But quality people, you know, they think it their duty to provide for the less fortunate. A very commendable trait, I have always thought. I dare say anyone but my Lizzy would want to hide our disgrace from a man like him, but she told him, made it his responsibility and now he shall take on all trouble of saving my poor Lydia."
Elizabeth did not think this a very flattering portrait of herself or of Mr. Darcy. "Lydia is a gentleman's daughter, Mama. I do not think Mr. Darcy thinks her so low as all of that."
"There can hardly be any other explanation," her mother insisted. "And right he is to think so, if it should take his interference to make the match."
Here, Mrs. Gardiner looked very pointedly at Elizabeth, but she could not fathom what her aunt wished her to say. Her mother's conjecture was absurd, but Elizabeth and Jane had had very little success in the past of bringing their mother to any rational understanding of the world.
"I do not think that alone can account for his involvement," Mrs. Gardiner suggested, when Elizabeth failed to provide the desired intelligence.
"He does have a long-standing relationship with Mr. Wickham," the niece suggested, having no success divining exactly what her aunt hoped for her to add. "If Mr. Darcy has any feelings of responsibility towards the match, I am sure they come from that quarter."
"Elizabeth does not do Mr. Darcy's feelings enough credit," was Mrs. Gardiner's reply.
Mary chose this time to enter, baring a tray of tea things. Elizabeth was offered a reprieve from answering her aunt's uncomfortable suggestion. She was of the opinion that Mr. Darcy's actions were rooted at least partially in a preference for herself, but to share such a theory with her family was more mortification than she could bear. In light of Lydia's actions, there would be no proposal coming. Elizabeth did not think her mother could ever forgive her should she learn that she had already refused the man.
Indeed, Elizabeth felt her mother would be quite justified in her anger. Though she had been able to enter Derbyshire perfectly content with her refusal, if not the manner in which she refused, Elizabeth had not been able to leave without regret. Returned to Longbourn, her past self appeared to Elizabeth as a frightfully stupid girl.
The mother, aunt and three sisters partook of tea and cakes. Conversation was directed by Mary, who related the contents of a recent conversation between Mrs. Phillips and the curate at Meryton. In her retelling, Mary appeared largely unaware of how condemning the clergyman's words had been. Had she given much thought to the matter at all, it was unlikely she would have repeated it to the mother of the girl in question with so little emotion.
Being that the curate was married, Mrs. Bennet had very little interest in his opinions of her daughters and instead chose to spend this time digesting what her sister Gardiner had said regarding the feelings of the very single Mr. Darcy. A single man in possession of good fortune must be in want of a wife; if such a man was to spend his fortune on a ruined girl, his inducement could only be interest in one of her sisters.
"Jane," Mrs. Bennet interrupted suddenly. Mary was put out, but used to her contributions being pushed aside in favor of Jane. Owing to Mary's subject matter, Elizabeth found she had less sympathy for Mary's plight than she might normally have had. "Jane, dear, leave the running of the house to Lizzy."
Equally trained in the art of running a household, Elizabeth was surprised at this sudden need for her skills. Deference to seniority demanded that while her mother was indisposed, her responsibilities as mistress fell to the eldest daughter.
"Have I displeased you, Mama?" Jane wondered, having never in the whole course of her life done anything that earned her mother's disapprobation.
"No, no, dear, of course not," Mrs. Bennet said tenderly, patting Jane on the cheek. "But we cannot have you do anything to loose your bloom."
"Whereas the bloom my youth is an acceptable casualty," Elizabeth interjected. "Though I am younger, so it may require more than merely the running of a household to defeat."
"That's enough out of you, Miss Lizzy," her mother pronounced. Internally, Elizabeth could only shrug. She was a necessity to her mother for nearly an hour - the longest stretch of her life so far. "Jane," Mrs. Bennet continued, addressing her eldest daughter again, "when Mr. Darcy comes, you must be agreeable."
This declaration was a shock to all present.
"We thought him such a great friend to Mr. Bingley and I am more disappointed than any of you to know his loyalties are so easily overpowered, but Jane, if he will save our family's reputation for you, then, however distasteful you may find it, you must accept him."
Jane, unable to process such a vulgar idea, was speechless. Elizabeth, all indignation cried out, "Mama!" Mary looked at Jane with some sympathy. Mrs. Gardiner smiled to herself in some private amusement and shook her head.
"Sister, you misunderstand."
"Oh, how I wish that were so," Mrs. Bennet said mournfully. "I would not like to see my Jane with such an unpleasant man. But to take on the office he has chosen to take on - well, there is only one reason for it. Jane is a good, dutiful girl; if he wants her, he shall have her. She has such a sweet temperament. I dare say she can make the best of it, if any woman could."
Kitty entered, wondering about some bit of ribbon she had misplaced, just in time to ensure that every woman in the household was present when Mrs. Gardiner corrected her sister: "It is Lizzy that is engaged to Mr. Darcy."
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth truly understood what her mother complained of when she spoke of her nerves, for this simple sentence, from the mouth of a respected aunt, made her feel very ill. She had a great disappointment in hearing such an announcement and knowing that it was false. She had wished for such a thing, but knew it to be impossible. To have it claimed by another person made all the impossibility of it worse. Additionally, the announcement was a great shock to her family. Elizabeth dreaded both the effusive reactions and the inevitable disappointment when she revealed the truth.
Kitty laughed. Mary recited verse. Jane hugged her. Mrs. Bennet found her second daughter once again in favor.
And Elizabeth, Elizabeth said, "Aunt, I am not."
Mrs. Gardiner's countenance faltered for a moment. Attempting to mollify feelings that she misinterpreted in her niece, she said, "I am sorry to say it so plainly when he has not spoken to your father, but in the circumstances, I thought it best not to be obtuse."
"There is nothing to say to Papa," Elizabeth said honestly. "I will admit Mr. Darcy shows some partiality, but we are not engaged."
"Then, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet, undaunted by the awkwardness shared by aunt and niece, "you will make yourself agreeable to Mr. Darcy when he returns for you. I will have none of the foolishness you showed Mr. Collins."
"A simple task to fulfill," Elizabeth observed, "for Mr. Darcy is no fool."
Kitty laughed again. "He's not fool enough to marry Lizzy! You've got no dowry!"
Pained as Elizabeth already was by Mrs. Gardiner's misconceptions, Kitty's remark had little additional effect. "That's no obstacle. He has money enough."
Forced to concede to the truth of that, Kitty had nothing more to say. "I hope you do marry him, Lizzy," she said anyway.
Elizabeth was unsure if she should thank her sister for this sentiment. Her mother was quick to answer, declaring that Elizabeth certainly would marry him, should he condescend to ask. There was to be an assembly in a month. If Elizabeth did not dance the first set with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth, her mother declared, will have used them all very ill. Elizabeth refrained from arguing with her mother's assumptions about Mr. Darcy's attendance at a public ball in Meryton. Jane pressed her sister's hand in sympathy. After Mary said something indistinct about a female's reputation, Elizabeth claimed fatigue and excused herself that she might rest before dinner. Mrs. Gardiner rose immediately afterwards and followed her out of Mrs. Bennet's apartment.
"Elizabeth," her aunt implored, taking Elizabeth's arm and drawing her aside, "your uncle and I accepted Mr. Darcy's help because we thought you engaged. We allowed the two of you so much privacy as a favor." Mrs. Gardiner dropped her voice. "The parlor at the inn - how long where you alone together?"
Knowing as well as her aunt did the dangers of letting that conversation be heard, Elizabeth was just as quiet when she answered, "Not above an half-hour."
Even this period of time was too long to safeguard the reputation of a most beloved niece. "He should not have stayed, once he saw that you were alone."
"Perhaps not," Elizabeth admitted cautiously. Inwardly, she reflected that a young man did have his reasons for desiring the exclusive company of a young lady. He could hardly wish to make a proposal in company. "He saw I was in distress. What else could he do but try to comfort me?"
"It is not his place to comfort you if he is not your intended," Mrs. Gardiner chided. "He knows this. He is too intelligent, too proper a man to have not considered this."
"In truth," Elizabeth protested, "I do not believe he did. If helping the helpless is not just cause to remain in someone's company, what is?"
"Elizabeth," her aunt sighed. Mrs. Gardiner was normally of too sanguine a temper to grow frustrated with her niece, but on this occasion, Elizabeth's evasiveness was drawing her close to it. "What is your relationship with Mr. Darcy? None of us has correctly divined it."
She pressed her lips together. "I first heard of Mr. Darcy at an assembly. Mr. Bingley wanted to introduce us. Mr. Darcy refused to make my acquaintance and said some very rude things about me, besides. I made a joke of it, but in truth, I was very cross.
"We continued to meet. We could not help it. He rarely participated in conversation, but when he did, we quarreled. I thought myself very clever, arguing with a man so few would."
"This account of Mr. Darcy is so unlike the young man we had the pleasure of meeting at Pemberley." The same was true of every account Mrs. Gardiner had heard.
"He was very different at Pemberley than when I saw him last autumn or even in the spring," Elizabeth reminded her.
The aunt remained skeptic. "But such a change?"
"People are often changing," Elizabeth replied. "It is what makes the study of character so fascinating. Oh, I think in essentials people do not change. But the faces they show in different situations, those can show a great deal of variation."
"The difference in being at his own home versus the guest of another, you mean."
"Yes," Elizabeth drawled, "but also, I think he was also trying harder to make a good impression. He knows he often gives offense without meaning to when he makes new acquaintances and he wanted you and my uncle to like him."
"We did like him," her aunt answered. "We liked him very much."
Elizabeth smiled. "I'm very gratified to hear it. I like him, too."
"But you are not engaged to him."
"No."
"Are you anticipating his address?"
Elizabeth hesitated, before answering, "I was." She feared saying more, unwilling to publicize his humiliation at Kent. However, she could not allow her aunt to labor under the impression a proposal was imminent, when the truth was it was impossible to conceive. "What Lydia has done," Elizabeth hasted to add, "has ended any hopes I may have had in that quarter. He would never willingly be connected to Mr. Wickham."
"Oh, Lizzy. You do him too little credit."
"I am in that habit. So, I shall hope for a better outcome."