This chapter was looked over by SMAW and foreverhyponosis, but I confess after such a long break from posting, I was eager to post and did not give them a lot of time.
Mending His Pen
Chapter Four: Kindness
By that evening, the news of a certain gentleman's return to Hertfordshire spread swiftly throughout the neighbourhood. In a provincial community, gossip was of interest to everyone and news travelled across many tongues. Mrs. Long's information was soon verified by the innkeeper's wife. Tender-hearted young maidens sought confirmation from the officers of the _shire militia. The men gravely gave the bad news:
Mr. Darcy had returned to Meryton.
Proud and above his company, Mr. Darcy's society was wished for by no one. First among his crimes was the ruination of all the hopes of Mr. Wickham. Girls whispered Mr. Darcy had come for revenge. Men feigned knowledge of financial speculation. Mrs. Bennet condemned him for appearing though his friend Mr. Bingley did not.
And Elizabeth Bennet listened, quietly relieved.
Gossip linked Mr. Darcy's name to Mr. Wickham, to Mr. Bingley, to bankers and landowners she had never heard of and half suspected were fictional; but although she had spent two mornings with him, the gossip never mentioned Elizabeth's name. It should be impossible for a Bennet to walk with an eligible gentleman without anyone's noticing. They had gone to Mrs. Long's rooms together. Her well publicised dislike of the man must have saved her. Mr. Darcy was a man so disagreeable in the eyes of Meryton society that it was only natural he should attach himself to the person least inclined to tolerate him.
She was deeply grateful for her past silence. Had she arrived home from Kent eager to defend him from Mr. Wickham's charming defamation, she could not have been safe from the romantic presumption that so often sprung from a young man and young lady being in frequent company. Mrs. Bennet still thought of Mr. Darcy as the hateful man who slighted her daughter and thought nothing of country life. If she had any idea of his being a moral gentleman with a tendre for her daughter, he would be a house guest at Longbourn before Elizabeth had time to protest.
She did not care to imagine Mr. Darcy at the breakfast table. She could not bear the thought of Mr. Darcy in their best guest room, a place of honour last occupied by Mr. Collins. Mr. Darcy smoking her father's cigars, drinking her father's best brandy, reading aloud to the family after dinner… If Mr. Darcy intended to pressure her into a marriage, he must know her mother would be his greatest ally. Elizabeth had been saved by a very fortunate mutual dislike.
The morning after her charity visit to Mrs. Long, Elizabeth elected to stay at home with her mother. Gossip was Mrs. Bennet's favourite pastime and Elizabeth hoped to be kept apprised of anything said about Mr. Darcy. Although she told herself she was not hiding from him, it was clear that remaining at home was the wisest course. When she had gone into the village, she had met him.
Elizabeth sought refuge in the music room, waiting for callers and news. She had not the disposition of a disciplined performer, but her excited spirits enabled her to pound out notes for above an hour. She did not leave her sanctuary until Lady Lucas arrived. Having lost her oldest daughter to marriage, Lady Lucas brought her younger, sillier children with her. Had pragmatic Charlotte been happily single and at home, Elizabeth suspected her friend would have advice she would not care to hear.
Elizabeth joined her mother and sisters in the parlour to receive their visitors. Gossip and sewing were the order of the day. None of the Lucases had learnt anything new about Mr. Darcy since last night. This did not stop Lady Lucas from repeating all the same information she had related over dinner yesterday. Just as last evening, Mrs. Bennet answered her friend with lamentations of Mr. Bingley. Why could it not have been he who returned? The neighbourhood would prefer it. She could not blame Jane. Jane had tried her best to secure him.
Mrs. Bennet's insistence that Jane was not at fault for the loss of Mr. Bingley's companionship or his 5,000 pounds a year had the curious effect-as it often did-of inspiring an air of contrition in her eldest daughter. Jane had not pursued Mr. Bingley with all the determination of Charlotte Lucas making a conquest of Mr. Collins. Jane had been demure and shy, concealing her feelings admirably. Her meddlesome neighbours had no right to her heart and she had locked them out of it.
Elizabeth had decidedly more pity for Jane's heartbreak than Mr. Darcy's. Jane suffered quietly, refusing to injure any other person with her disappointed hopes. She remembered Mr. Bingley with fond words and praise when remembrances could not be avoided. When discouraged, she retreated. Mr. Darcy had not been so agreeable. These meditations on the correct way to be disappointed in love were put to an end by Mrs. Hill. The housekeeper conferred briefly with Mrs. Bennet, who then made a valiant attempt to throw the entire household into chaos.
"That Mr. Darcy is come!" Mrs. Bennet declared. "He has been shown in to wait on Mr. Bennet even now! I should like to be in that room, yes, indeed! Mr. Bennet will tell him what we have all wished to!"
"My father is not insensible to the demands of deference and rank," Jane said quietly. Her fingers stitched steadily. "Mr. Darcy honours my father by calling on him."
Elizabeth's own hands curled themselves into fists around her scissors. No longer able to contemplate cutting thread, she wondered what the men could be discussing. She had told Mr. Darcy her father had not read his second letter. He should not make direct reference to it knowing it had gone unnoticed. But suppose he felt it necessary to repeat what he had written in person?
"You know what he said about our Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet howled. With a shake of her finger, she insisted, "Mr. Bennet shall not soon forget that!"
Elizabeth squealed suddenly. "I cut myself on my scissors," she admitted to the many sets of eyes on her. "Pray excuse me."
Jane followed her out of the sitting room. "Are you bleeding? Shall I fetch my court-plaster?"
A thin line of blood marred the pad of Elizabeth's ring finger. "I do not believe it requires a plaster. I had not been attending my sewing. It is a much wanted lesson." She sucked on her finger, appraised it and finding the line of blood to be collecting again, returned the finger to her mouth.
The sound of Jane's sharp intake drew Elizabeth's eyes upwards.
Mr. Darcy was staring at her, red in the cheeks.
Her finger fell out of her mouth.
"My sister cut her finger," Jane said swiftly.
"I have court-plaster," Mr. Darcy said, "Shall I cut you a piece?"
"No," Elizabeth said, "No, I thank you. It is a small cut. The bleeding has nearly stopped."
"I understand you called on my father," Jane said, turning to Mr. Darcy.
"Yes. I had also hoped to pay my respects to Mrs. Bennet. Is she at home to callers?"
"Indeed, she is. She is with Lady Lucas and her children now, but I am sure the party would be pleased to have you join them."
Jane lead the way to the sitting room. As she opened the door, the end of a speech by Mrs. Bennet travelled into the hall. It sounded suspiciously like, "...never get a husband!"
"Mama," Jane said, stepping inside, "Mr. Darcy would like to see you."
Though any man, even those worth 10,000 per annum, could expect only the disapprobation of a woman whose child he slighted, those feelings were easily forgotten when he paid his respects to the mother. Primping her hair, Mrs. Bennet bid, "Show him in, Jane!"
Mr. Darcy entered, and lingering near the doorway, bowed. Elizabeth slipped in behind him and returned to her spot on the sofa. The handkerchief she had been working on was in pitiful shape, creased and stained with blood. As she smoothed the wrinkles, Elizabeth felt the cushion beside her dip. She raised her eyes to Mr. Darcy, who had not sat until he was able to pick a place near her. His eyes were fixed on her hands.
She had been safe from the gossip so far, but that could not continue to be the case if he stared at her in her own mother's sitting room. When the usual inquiries about the weather and the roads were made and over, Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy, I simply cannot suffer to stay indoors when it is so beautiful outside! Would you oblige me to take a turn in the wilderness?"
He received the invitation with an eagerness that made her heart sink. In trying to prevent her mother's effusions on wealthy and lovesick young bachelors, she had given his expectations cause to rise. Perhaps on Mr. Darcy's grand estate, the wilderness was a suitable place for lovers to do whatever it was he thought to be adequate love making, but her father could only boast of three trees on his.
"Kitty," Elizabeth said, stuffing the wrinkled, stained handkerchief into her workbag, "do come with us. You were saying only yesterday you hoped to take exercise to-day."
Although she looked like she had swallowed something particularly foul, Kitty was made to agree. Mr. Darcy's hopes appeared sufficiently dashed and the selected party promised a disagreeable outing. It would have to do.
Once the trio had begun trampling through Longbourn's uninspired grove, Kitty fulfilled her sister's prophecy of unpleasant conversation by asking Mr. Darcy the same question her mother had asked everyone else: "Why is Mr. Bingley not come back?"
Although he had a lady on each arm, Mr. Darcy shrugged.
"Does he know you are come back?" Kitty pressed.
"You misunderstand the matter, Kitty," Elizabeth burst. "Mr. Bingley reports to Mr. Darcy, but he will settle for nothing less than complete independence from the wants of others."
"Mr. Bingley respects my opinion," Mr. Darcy corrected, terse. "When he asks for my impressions, I give them."
"I do not understand your meaning," Elizabeth replied. "Are we to understand you did not inform Mr. Bingley or that you are not interested in his opinions, but he was given every opportunity to express them?"
Kitty looked afraid. Elizabeth wished she had brought a braver companion. She would not have forced Jane into the company of the man who stole her beau, and Mary could not have been so easily pressed into leaving her studies. She should have brought Lydia.
"I shall not be made to defend words I did not say," Darcy answered. "You may choose to profess opinions that are not your own, but it is not a predilection I share."
"Did you inform Mr. Bingley of your intentions?"
"I did not."
"Why?"
Darcy hesitated before answering. "Miss Bennet, I would not inform anyone of my intentions until given permission to do so."
Elizabeth blushed. Of course Darcy could not tell anyone he was following her to Hertfordshire. Until the engagement was settled between himself and her father, it would be improper to speak of it. "Of course," she murmured, hoping Kitty would consider anything odd about her reaction to be embarrassment at being found too impertinent. "Please accept my apologies."
"It is true," Darcy conceded, "I am not accustomed to having my movements restricted by others. Even if I had all the freedom to speak of my intentions that I might wish for, the opinions of other parties are not something I relish. Tempers that are easily persuaded may be seen as more amiable than those otherwise, but I prefer my own counsel. This is, perhaps, a failing in the eyes of some."
"You sound as though you are up to something very wicked, Mr. Darcy," Kitty sniffed.
Privately, Elizabeth agreed. But she said, "Mr. Darcy is simply reminding me of a conversation we had with Mr. Bingley some months ago. He believes it is not a virtue to be easily persuaded and that if your friends ask you to do something, you had best do the opposite!"
"Lizzy asked me to take a turn with you! Mr. Darcy, would you like me better if I had refused?"
"I find the most admirable characters to be those with a strong sense of purpose," Darcy declared. "To be dissuaded from your own convictions is no virtue."
"I would much rather go inside," Kitty admitted. "Lizzy made up all that about exercise. I never said that!"
"Let your own mind be your guide, Miss Catherine."
Kitty happily took this tacit permission to drop his arm and return to the house.
"Very opportunistic," Elizabeth observed. "You chose your target well. I do not believe that would have worked on someone who is not afraid of you."
He shrugged. "I should like to have some time alone."
"I should like to know the truth about Mr. Bingley."
That gave him pause. "I have been candid, Miss Bennet."
"With me, perhaps, but not with your friend. You seek a connection to the same family you told him was unsuitable."
"Our circumstance cannot be compared to that of Mr. Bingley."
"I wonder if he would think so!"
Darcy exhaled. "I am quite resigned to disapproval from my friends and relations regarding our connection. There is nothing to be done for it."
"Mr. Bingley was so amiable and kind throughout his stay in Hertfordshire that I would not dare suggest he would disapprove of any lady you might choose. Had you proposed to Pen Harrington, he would wish you every joy imaginable. But even the easiest temper would not be able to overlook your disapproving of one sister while set upon another."
"Perhaps," he said thoughtfully, "I was mistaken in attributing your coquettish behaviour to a wish to tease gone too far. If it is a reunion between your sister and Mr. Bingley you require, I shall tell you, I am not convinced it would be in the best interest of either."
Any protest that she was not a coquette would be taken by him as flirting. Elizabeth had learnt that already. "Why is it that you are the party that must be convinced? It is not your happiness that was ruined!"
"If Mr. Bingley was to return Netherfield and found your sister's company not so sweet as he remembered, would you consider the fresh pain something she deserved?"
Elizabeth stilled. The idea of Jane, whose spirits had scarcely begun to rise, wounded further was a bleak picture. Mr. Bingley's accommodating temperament was one Elizabeth had long respected. His lack of conviction was a failing, but the accompanying willingness to listen and respect his friends and family was admirable. It was a weakness of will that caused him to hurt Jane, not a wicked temper. To return to Netherfield and disregard the girl who had once been his favourite would be callous. It would be cruel. It would be entirely unlike Mr. Bingley.
"Your friend is not so cruel as you would suggest," Elizabeth argued.
"I do not suggest that he is cruel," Mr. Darcy protested. "He is a young man with an easy temper. He falls in and out of love often. You cannot assume his feelings have not changed after so many months."
"Have they?"
He seemed taken back by a direct question. "I do not know," Mr. Darcy admitted.
"You should try asking," Elizabeth bit, "when you do not know someone's heart."
"What would you have me say?"
"I would have you confess to Mr. Bingley all that you have confessed to me. You know the deception was beneath you. You should not compound your error by refusing to hold yourself accountable."
"It is not a matter of my wishing to forget my error," he sighed. "If observation does not grant knowledge of what is in someone's heart then we cannot know if further meddling is a kindness or a cruelty. Mr. Bingley may have fallen in love with three other ladies by now. Your sister may have decided a man so easily moved should not be trusted with her future. I would not wish to bid my friend to return, tell him that he has her heart and have him find that he has nothing."
"Ask him," she repeated. "Ask Mr. Bingley what he wants, I shall ask Jane. I have not shared my knowledge of the affair with her. I thought ignorance of scheming parties would serve her better, but perhaps neither of us are as good a friend as we would wish to be. We should supply our friends with all the information we have and let the choice be theirs."
"And if the response is not the one you wish for?"
"It hardly matters what either of us wish for! I shall support my sister no matter what she decides, even if she could never bear to see him again! I suggest you do the same for your friend."
The rest of the walk was spent determining how to deliver their information to the interested parties. If Darcy was disappointed that such a discussion supplied him with no opportunity to whisper sweet words or steal kisses, he hid it well. Elizabeth supposed such demonstrations were not characteristic of him regardless.
Because Mrs. Bennet set a fine table and enjoyed hosting, it was late when Elizabeth and her sisters could escape pouring coffee and entertaining the neighbourhood with songs. When the house was finally quiet and the supper guests had gone, Jane linked her arm through Elizabeth's and the sisters went upstairs to retire.
Alone in their bedroom, Jane said, "Oh, Lizzy, I was worried when Kitty returned to the house without you." She spoke with anxiety; the walk had been hours ago, yet she had not been able to ask about it until now. "Were you able to convince Mr. Darcy this has all been a dreadful misunderstanding?"
"In truth," Elizabeth replied, "I did not attempt it. We spoke of Mr. Bingley."
Jane looked away, then recovering herself, murmured, "It is only natural. Mr. Bingley is an acquaintance you share. I hope Mr. Darcy was able to assure you he is in good health."
"Jane," her sister sang, "what would you think if Mr. Darcy invited Mr. Bingley to join him?"
"I should think it would suit Mr. Darcy very well to have a friend in the neighbourhood. Mr. Bingley has every right to come live in a house he has let and I am sure Mr. Darcy must prefer Netherfield to staying at the inn."
"Would it suit you?"
"What suits me cannot have any importance to Mr. Bingley."
Jane was so good. Humble and demure and all the things a lady ought to be. Jane was too beautiful to think herself of no consequence to men, yet she did. Elizabeth knew herself to be vain; she could never have that purity. "I have concealed something from you I ought not have."
Her sister's pretty face was marred by confused suspicion.
"When Mr. Darcy and I were in Kent, we spoke of Mr. Bingley, as is natural, and I learnt his decision to remain in Town was made for reasons other than what we have supposed."
"Lizzy?"
"He thought you were indifferent to him." The words rushed out. "Mr. Darcy convinced him of it! Mr. Darcy thought you did not take any particular pleasure in his friend's company and convinced him to stay in London. Mr. Bingley thinks highly of Mr. Darcy's discernment, and is of an easy character besides. He wants to think well of his friends. He wants to believe them."
Jane's shock was great. "I do not understand."
"I always suspected he had a hand in Mr. Bingley's defection. Oh, I thought his sisters to have the greater share of the blame, but I never thought Mr. Darcy innocent… We had spirited conversations at Netherfield about if it was a fault or virtue to be easily persuaded." The crush of words did little for Jane's spirits.
"When I was in Kent," Elizabeth said, forcing herself to try to tell a clearer narrative, "a cousin of Mr. Darcy was visiting as well. Colonel Fitzwilliam told me that Mr. Darcy was lately pleased to have saved a friend from marriage. I thought the friend must be Mr. Bingley. When I asked Mr. Darcy about it, he confessed."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"I could not bear to cause you such grief, to know scheming friends and concealments had ruined your happiness."
Without a word, Jane sat on the edge of the bed.
"If Mr. Darcy were to write to Mr. Bingley and tell him how wrong he was, and Mr. Bingley threw over every other thing to gallop to your side-as he should!-would you welcome him?"
"Oh-oh-yes, of course, Mr. Bingley is always welcome to come to his own house."
Elizabeth eased herself onto the mattress beside her sister. "But would you welcome him? Could you forget that he abandoned you?"
"Lizzy, we don't know what is in Mr. Bingley's heart."
"We could. With your permission, Mr. Darcy will ask him."
"Oh, Lizzy, I do not think that would be-"
"No, you have been suffering from the loss of a man well-suited to answer all of your wishes-suffering because he believed something that was not true. Mr. Darcy will confess his wrong-doings and correct Mr. Bingley's information, but only if you wish for him to do so. If Mr. Bingley still loves you, he will return."
Jane was quiet.
"Others have interfered in the affairs of your heart too long, Jane. I shall not convey anything you do not wish to Mr. Darcy and he shall not write a line to Mr. Bingley without your approval."
"What if he has forgotten me?" Jane's voice was tiny, lost.
Elizabeth stiffened. Mr. Darcy seemed so confident that was the case. "Then we shall laugh at him!" Knocking her shoulder against her sister's, she added, "I shall remind you of every stupid thing he ever did until you cannot remember why you ever favoured such a man."
"Be serious, Lizzy!"
"How can I be serious when you are suggesting such silliness! A man with eyes in his head and sense in his brain forgetting my Jane is impossible."
"It has been many months," Jane protested. "A man so amiable will have made other friends."
It was possible, all too likely and Jane seemed determined to not let her sister dismiss the worst ending out of hand. "Perhaps he has," Elizabeth grudgingly conceded. "But you would know. You would know you had tried. If he really has no intentions towards you, you would know that as well. And then perhaps you could begin to forget him."
Her sister said nothing.
"If you do not wish to try," Elizabeth said cautiously, "that is perfectly all right. Mr. Darcy will not write if you do not wish him to."
Jane laid her head against Elizabeth's shoulder. "Yes, yes, Lizzy, I want to see him again."
That night, she wrote to Charlotte. It was a short letter, but one she was pleased to post the next morning. She pretended not to notice Mr. Darcy behind a newspaper when she gave the letter to the innkeeper. The visitor was a well-bred man, the sort who was too aware of the edicts of polite society to cut an acquaintance. He folded his newspaper and joined her.
"Good morning, Miss Bennet. I hope you are well."
"I am indeed," she replied, cheerful. "And yourself?"
"Very well. I see you are posting a letter."
"Yes." She grinned at him, too pleased with the knowledge that it was she he was scheming with now. Their code words were not terribly sophisticated, but the entire thing was exciting. "Oh! I must pick up any post for Longbourn as well!" Abashed, Elizabeth admitted, "I nearly forgot!"
As the innkeeper rifled through his mailbag for the post to Longbourn, Mr. Darcy said casually, "I have a letter to write myself. It is long overdue and I confess I have been struggling with it. I am not precisely sure what it should say."
With great pleasure, Elizabeth said, "It should say yes!"
Darcy bowed. His unexpected gallantry as a conspirator made her want to laugh, but she spied something over his shoulder than gave her pause.
"Miss Bennet? What is the matter?"
Gesturing towards the window, Elizabeth drew his attention to the men outside-all in red coats. "I have never seen the officers behave so," she said warily. There were four of them, moving down the streets, rapidly in and out of shops, conferring and separating.
One of the men burst into the inn. It was Mr. Chamberlayne. He appeared out of sorts.
"Good God, man," Darcy said at the sight of him, "what is the matter?"
"Since it is you, sir," Chamberlayne said, "I suppose you ought to know: Mr. Wickham is missing."