Standard Disclaimer: I am not Jane Austen. I will never be Jane Austen. I can only hope she will eventually forgive me for playing with her toys.

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Chapter Four

Elizabeth woke to birdsong and Charlotte. For a blessed minute knowledge was absent from her mind and she was sleepily puzzled by Charlotte's presence in her bedroom. Then she noted the cursed letter in her friend's hands and memory returned.

"Oh," she said dully. "You found it."

Charlotte glanced down at the letter. "No," she replied in a carefully neutral tone. "As matter of fact, it was given to me by Mr. Darcy."

"Oh." This seemed odd, but it required some further thought before the reason was clear. "You returned early from Rosings? Was Lady Catherine displeased over something?"

Charlotte's response was a crisp, but not unkind, "I think before we discuss anything further you had best eat." She motioned to a platter set on the nightstand holding tea, toast, and a little fruit.

Elizabeth nodded and applied herself to the meal. When all but the last of the tea had been consumed and the cobwebs removed from her mind she looked up at her wonderful, practical friend with bitter-sweet gratitude.

"Thank you, Charlotte. You always seem to know just what is needed."

This seemed to make Charlotte strangely uneasy. "Do I? I wonder if you will continue to think so."

"Charlotte?" Elizabeth asked, puzzled.

Her friend set the tray to the side then took Elizabeth's hands in her own.

"Eliza," She said, "You have been my dearest friend these many years. I know that you have not always approved of or understood my decisions but you have always stood by me. There is something we must discuss now, something I know you will not want to hear. Please, I ask you now to hear me out, to listen to all I have to say. If when I am done you choose against my counsel I will never speak a word of reproach and will stand by you as you have me. But I ask you to hear me now."

Elizabeth nodded hesitantly, gut clenching. Charlotte began, her tone once again neutral and even.

"You asked if we returned early from Rosings. We did not. In fact we were quite late and I was considerably surprised to find Mr. Darcy here. He very politely begged the use of my parlor as a place for uninterrupted contemplation and I consented. He was here for most the night." This information surprised an exclamation from Elizabeth, but Charlotte pressed on.

"Around midnight I stopped to look in on my guest. He– Eliza, I have rarely seen such pain. He masked it quickly, but I felt obliged to offer what aid I could. That is when he gave me Kitty's letter. We talked. He knows of the extent of your circumstances, knows what you face. Eliza, he asked me if you might reconsider, if you might think him the lesser of evils."

Elizabeth shook her head wildly. "Charlotte, you don't know what he said! How could I possibly accept such a man? I would be crawling on my knees for scraps of his esteem the rest of my life! And you know my vow."

"I know your vow" Charlotte said. "And I know why you fear an unequal marriage, or any marriage that is not grounded in affection and respect. Your fears are not without foundation. However, I ask you, for a moment, to see past them. There are other dangers to consider, ones to more than yourself."

Elizabeth sucked in a breath.

"For your sisters' sakes, will you hear me?" Charlotte asked gently.

Bands of steel wrapped around Elizabeth's chest, stilling the air in her lungs, but she nodded. Charlotte spoke calmly then, and at length, of the future. She seemed to take great care not to exaggerate the ills the Bennet sisters faced, but neither did she diminish them, or spare any detail which would give weight to her words. Of the monotony, enforced humility, and sheer labor involved in a lifetime of employment there was much to elaborate. She painted no less eloquent a picture when speaking of the spinster's lot, of being a loved but unwanted burden, a nonentity without purpose in life; the contempt of a society without tolerance for perceived failure; and the pressure she would inevitably feel to accept a man, any man, regardless of his character, to relieve these pains. To all this she added the difficulty of escape from either existence, and the vulnerability to fate's caprice.

Opposed to this, and while acknowledging the dangers of matrimony, she laid out the contentment that could be found as mistress of one's own domain, the satisfaction in easing the lot of others (which would be no less Eliza's than hers, as the lady of a large estate), the refinement of her talents only possible for a woman with time to call her own, of quiet moments of peace found in smaller pleasures, and opportunities for the study of a wide and varied society available with the ability to travel.

The final defeat however came when Charlotte spoke of her fears for all the Bennet's safety, but most especially for Jane. Sheltered though Elizabeth was, her father had taught her too much of human folly to place much faith in human virtue, especially when the victim had been denied by law and custom of any means of redress. In the end, when the servant opened the door to inform Charlotte that the 'fine gentleman' was returned, Elizabeth was despairing, but resigned to her fate.

"Forgive me, Charlotte," Elizabeth begged, shamed by her own naiveté, "for any pain my judgement caused. I never truly understood what you faced."

"I never wanted you to understand. I prayed each day you would find the marriage of equals you longed for. It did not seem so impossible that, with your wit and vivacity, you might attract to you just such a man. But time has run out, my dearest. You have a chance now for at least a little settled happiness, even if it is not that greater joy you desired. Will you not grasp it?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded, pushing down the silent wailing protests of her heart. "You may inform Mr. Darcy that, upon further consideration, I have seen the merits of his kind offer and will be down to discuss the matter shortly."

Charlotte's shoulders slumped with relief. She gripped Elizabeth's hand gently as she rose. "Thank you, Eliza, for hearing me. I will send Nancy to you immediately. Have her pack lightly, I can send the rest of your items straight to Longbourn. I would suggest you dress for travel, as you will wish to be away from Hunsford before Mr. Collins learns of this turn of fortune."

"Oh, goodness! I hadn't even considered– Once again, Charlotte, you are the embodiment of wisdom." Faced with this prospect Elizabeth sprang up from her bed, as though expecting the master of the house to burst in at any moment with his effusions. "I doubt I could withstand his sympathies at present without saying something truly nasty."

She halted in opening her closet door and turned haunted eyes to her friend. "Do you believe, given my nature and Mr. Darcy's, do you truly believe I am doing the right thing?"

"Yes." Charlotte smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth. "Of material comforts you will want for nothing, and your gift for laughter will supply the rest. And whatever else he may be, I believe proud Mr. Darcy is also a man greatly concerned for your happiness. It will not be so ill a life."

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Elizabeth paused a moment on the stairs, gathering her courage for the coming interview. What did one say to a man already once firmly, even violently, rejected? There were no social guidelines covering this precise event, and in her current state Elizabeth feared her errant tongue. Her sister's futures rested on her shoulders and she felt the weight of them. But neither a hundred minutes or a hundred years could be enough to prepare her for this meeting.

She forced her feet to move.

Mr. Darcy was standing, hands clasped behind him, looking out the parlor window as she approached the door. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. Was he still angry? Triumphant? Begrudging of the attraction which forced him once more to the breech?

He turned at her entrance, silent for a moment before inclining his head. "Miss Bennet."

"Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth replied. She indicated a chair and took her own seat. He did not follow suit, instead clearing his throat.

"I have arranged a carriage and chaperone to take you to your sister and on to Longbourn when you are ready. This is regardless of any decisions coming from this meeting."

She voiced gratitude for this generous gesture, concealing her surprise at the uncharacteristic consideration. A hush fell which neither seemed eager to break. Elizabeth attempted to swallow the lump lodged in her own throat, gave up, and forced herself to speak.

"I understand from Charlotte that you are willing to overlook my behavior last evening." She was faintly surprised her voice emerged merely hoarse, instead of croaking like a toad.

"Only if you will overlook my own. I realize my words could not have been more poorly, or painfully timed. Your response…was not without cause. We were not, I think, either of us at our best." His answer was subdued, and she nodded an acceptance of this olive branch. "Your time is necessarily limited by the press of events, so I will not try your patience long. Instead, I would say only this. I admire you immensely, Miss Bennet. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Elizabeth girded her courage about her. "Mr. Darcy, I have thought hard about this, and for the sake of my family I will accept your hand if you are determined in this course. But this is a step which once taken cannot be undone, and so I must ask. Your grounds of objection last eve can only be strengthened by these events. Though I am a gentleman's daughter, I am now an orphan and my remaining relations survive by trade or by the assumption of my father's estates. I can bring only a threadbare respectability to marriage, and a surfeit of dependent sisters. Furthermore, whatever your own feelings, you are now aware that my own affections are not engaged. By any worldly measure the advantages in this match are entirely to myself. I would not have a moment's compassion or generosity reward the both of us with a lifetime sentence. Can you truly be satisfied with such a partner?"

He was silent again, still studying her, his expression indecipherable. Elizabeth waited, heart in her throat, praying she had not mortally offended him. She could not begin to discern how he regarded her query. A problem, she reflected with a shadow of self-mocking humor, that was not likely to alter, given their precedent of miscommunications.

"I comprehend your concern," he said at last. "You may be assured however that I am not a man much given to impulse, especially in weighty matters. I would not have renewed my offer had I not been certain of the worth of the goal. Nor am I one to lay blame at another's door for my own choices. Whatever our future, you need never fear my reproach."

"Very well then, sir," she said, suddenly a little light headed. "We are engaged."

"Indeed."

Awkward stillness followed. The typically expected pleasure of such a moment contrasted painfully with the tangled emotions of both parties, making each hesitant of speech.

"I'm off to London shortly," Darcy said abruptly. "The business side of things, you understand."

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth murmured.

"It would be good to know to whom I must apply for your hand."

This inquiry caused tears to well up, but Elizabeth would not permit their fall. Darcy stepped toward her as she struggled for speech, reaching out, but at the shake of her head let his hand drop to his side.

"I believe it is my uncle Gardiner who receives the guardianship," she managed to say, and relayed the address. "But he and my aunt will no doubt accompany Jane and I home."

"Thank you." Darcy hesitated, then asked, "Miss Bennet, how may I best ease–"

"Don't!" she cried. Then, in a calmer tone, "Don't. If you are kind to me now I will shatter, and I cannot afford it. Please."

A shimmer of understanding moved in his eyes. "As you wish. We will meet again in Hertfordshire then. Fair travels, my lady." With this Darcy bowed and strode from the room.

From the window Elizabeth watched him mount his stallion. There was, she noted bleakly, something about a good rider on an excellent horse which could impart a noble air to the plainest of men. One such as Mr. Darcy became positively heroic. She turned away and tried to quell the persistent sensation of suffocation.

So, this is the plot bunny—not simply a marriage-of-convenience plot, but a question of what would it take for Darcy and Elizabeth to get together after his disastrous first proposal, and before Elizabeth learns to think better of him, and where do they go from there? Well, specifically it was the scene of the previous chapter, but the rest follows.

Notes from my research: Another long one, but some topics can't be justly dealt with as in a single paragraph. I'm finding a lot of those.

On finances — I knew, in a vague way, that much of the characters' interactions were dictated by relative finances and expectations. Certainly much is made of how 'brave' and principled Lizzy is, and of course Darcy is rich. But I wanted to get a better understanding of how the subtext of finances really affected things, so I did a little digging. I came away from it a bit shocked. I will deal with relative incomes of various characters later (too much info to load into one addendum), but for now here is the bottom line on Lizzy's and her sisters' prospects. I imagine many of you know these details already, but it can't hurt to have it laid out.

My resources give the absolute minimum household yearly wage for mere survival as £20 per year. £25 was the lot of the 'laboring poor', the lowest an independent woman might expect, and was considered a 'very narrow' income. Forget about servants or any luxuries.

Given Mrs. Bennet's ways I think it fair to wager her £4,000 lump sum inheritance is already spent. I am not certain, but with her death that sum may have been absorbed into the estate regardless. The remaining settlement of £5,000 is to be split between her five daughters upon her death. Invested in the 5% Government Bonds this would yield each a yearly income of £50, only a bit above double the minimum necessary survival wage. (Also known as the Funds, these were a favored way of handling a woman's inheritance – primarily for the stability. There were always other ways a woman's inheritance could be handled, investment schemes and such, but even when honest these had a high risk of going belly-up.) By way of contrast Caroline Bingley had a lump sum of £20,000 settled on her. Assuming she invested instead of spending it, she would have a yearly income of £1,000, without any additional support from Charles.

Lydia's support and habits, most likely taking after her mother's (and without having to account for rent), cost Mr. Bennet £90 a year. It's probably safe to say Lydia at least would not handle the transition well. Even if the other's successfully transition and economize they would most likely be finagled into making up for Lydia's excesses. If they did not get a handle on living expenses in time their prospects would be far bleaker—possibly even the hedgerows of Mrs. Bennet's nightmares.

If the Bennet sisters lost their settlement funds they would be cast into a position of complete dependency upon their uncles. (Depending upon your interpretation of the canon text, this could be a severe hardship for the uncles.) They have no marketable skills except perhaps sowing. Lydia and Kitty are too young to be governesses or companions, even if they had the personalities for it; Mary who studied so hard for her accomplishments is now physically incapable; and Elizabeth and Jane… Well, there was a reason the ladies of households preferred their governesses, companions, and female servants be older and/or plain, which would make their finding employment difficult at best and dangerous at worst.

With the lack of financial training of many upper-class ladies (mere household management doesn't cover all the needed skills) it was not unusual for orphans and widows to lose what little they had through ignorance or the connivance of merchants and con-men, and become dependent on their relations' good will. If their relations have no good will, or if they have no relations (and without marketable skills), they could be forced into choice between starvation or a life of prostitution to survive. And this is without the expense from my story of a double funeral and medical care for Mary.

Scary stuff. It's no wonder that Elizabeth would accept Darcy. The real wonder is that she dared to refuse Mr. Collins! Looked at realistically Lizzy is incredibly naïve and impractical, so much so that were I a gentleman I might think twice about marrying such a silly woman.

Overall, Austen treated the matter of finances with astonishing lightness in Pride and Prejudice. Most likely for the same reasons romance authors since her have done the same. We often read romances in large part for a fantasy, a dream. The introduction of too much reality can destroy the illusion. We can take Lizzy at face value, and think kindly on Mr. Bennet, only because Austen chose not to confront Lizzy with the true evils of her situation.

(My calculations here are for the 5%'s, which is the benchmark Austen's characters use, but I have found there were for 2% through 6% Funds as well. It all depended on what options the government was offering at the time.)