Author's Note:
Hi, guys! I can't believe how sweet you are! Thank you for your kind comments. I know I say it all the time, but I really mean it. You make me smile. Especial thanks to monlokiana. I loved your review so much! I think the best thing you can tell a writer is that you see what they tried to do with their characters and the story, and that you see the role each character plays. We never know if what we are trying to do is what we are actually doing and it always looks better in our minds, so thank you so much!
This chapter is basically more explanations (first to Mr. Bennet, and then another honest conversation between Lizzy and Darcy). Still, I hope you enjoy it!
Stay safe and healthy!
Jen
"Well, I am extremely happy for both of us," Bingley smiled.
"And so am I."
19.
As soon as the gentlemen entered Longbourn the next day, Bingley looked at Elizabeth so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud:
"Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?"
"I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view."
"It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?"
Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Fitzwilliam professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.
During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be asked in the course of the evening: Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man; but whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation. In the evening, soon after Mr. Bennet withdrew to the library, Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy rise also and follow him, and her agitation on seeing it was extreme.
Fitzwilliam was extremely nervous as he walked towards Mr. Bennet's sanctuary. He knew little of the man, but what Elizabeth and Mr. Gardiner had told him. He knew he was intelligent and witty, that he enjoyed teasing and laughing at the folly of others just as his Elizabeth. But most importantly, he knew Mr. Bennet loved Elizabeth above all things, and he worried that he would prefer for her to remain with him than to have a man he did not know anything about—except for the fact that he was proud and arrogant—take his Lizzy away. He did not wish to tell him about Lydia or about Hunsford, but he would do anything to attain his consent and marry his daughter.
He stopped in front of the door and knocked and when he heard 'Enter,' he tried to remember Elizabeth's words to calm himself:
"Papa only wants my happiness. If he can be convinced that I will be happy with you, he will consent," she had said.
While any father of the ton would heartily give him his daughter's hand, here was a man who could not care less about his fortune or connections. No, he had to convince him of his love and respect for Elizabeth.
He opened the door and stepped inside and realised at once that Mr. Bennet had not expected to see him.
"Mr. Darcy! I see you have escaped the ladies, but I cannot blame you," he smiled. "Would you care for a drink?"
"Yes, sir, thank you," Fitzwilliam replied.
"Have a seat," Mr. Bennet told him and he complied. "I must admit I am not surprised that you did not bring Bingley with you, he will not be kept away from my Jane," he chuckled.
Fitzwilliam tried to smile through his nervousness. "Yes, that is the prerogative of a man who is both in love and engaged. He is an excellent man, you need not fear about him."
"I do not," Mr. Bennet chuckled. "But I admit I do take great delight in teasing him. He is far too easy to tease, I fear."
"Knowing Bingley, he will take it happily."
"Indeed. But I assume you did not come to see me to assure me of your friends character."
"No, I came to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage," Fitzwilliam managed to say.
Mr. Bennet looked stunned for a whole minute. They both sat in front of each other in silence as the older man processed this information. After a while, Mr. Bennet seemed to get out of his trance and said:
"I am afraid I do not follow you, sir. You know my eldest is engaged, and I cannot believe that you would want any of my other daughters."
"Do you think so little of them, sir?"
"I certainly do not! But I thought you did. You cannot be speaking of Elizabeth, who I believe is both beautiful and intelligent, but you do not deem worthy enough to dance with. You cannot be speaking of Mary for you have not spend a single hour in her company and you cannot be speaking of Kitty, for she is still too young and silly to be the wife of someone like you."
Fitzwilliam was startled. "Why do you believe I do not deem Miss Elizabeth worthy?"
"Is it Lizzy, then?" he asked, still confused. "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, I am not usually this slow, but you have said that Elizabeth is barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt you, and after that, you have glared at her and ignored her as much as you possibly could."
The young suitor was now horrified that his beloved's father knew what he had said about Elizabeth and how he had acted.
"I have behaved horribly, sir, the last time I was in Hertfordshire. From the moment I stepped into this county until long after I had left it. I am not surprised that you think so badly of me. But I assure you, I believe Miss Elizabeth is beautiful, intelligent, witty, and compassionate, and so many other things that we could be here all day. And that is why I wish to marry her."
"Mr. Darcy, I do not wish to insult you, but I do not know you. Certainly your favouring my Lizzy shows good taste and much sense, but I am not sure if I trust that your feelings will be strong enough to survive what you will have to face by marrying an unknown country girl."
"My feelings have been of long duration."
"Really? For I have seen nothing of them."
"As I had intended. I did not wish to raise expectations I did not plan to meet."
"And now you plan to meet them?" Mr. Bennet seemed to grow more distant with each word. "I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I do not care about your power, your money, your connections, or how many windows there are in your estate. I cannot, and I will not, make Elizabeth marry you."
Fitzwilliam who had grown more nervous and terrified with each word, was now a little relieved by the last phrase.
"Make her?" he repeated. "Sir, she has accepted me. I would never ask you to force her."
Mr. Bennet, who had seemed so determined a minute ago, now went back to confusion.
"Lizzy? My Lizzy has accepted you?" he asked dumbfounded.
"Yes, sir, or I would not be here."
"No, that is not possible. I may not know your feelings, but I know my Lizzy's and she has been very vocal about her dislike of you."
Fitzwilliam, though pained by hearing this, asked:
"Was that recently?"
"Recently? Well, no, she has not spoken about you for some time, but it is only logical since you were not even here."
"So she spoke so negatively about me when I was here the first time, not after?"
"Well, yes. But when could she have changed her opinion? You did not see each other until recently."
"We spent a lot of time together in Kent, and later in Derbyshire. I assume she did not mention that."
"No, she did not. She has been very secretive, my Lizzy. And you, young man, have a story to tell if you want her hand."
Fitzwilliam nodded and accepted his fate as he began his story:
"I have..." he hesitated and then decided for the whole truth. "I have loved your daughter almost since I met her." Mr. Bennet gave him and incredulous look. "Yes, I know I have not behaved as a man in love when I was last here, and there is a good reason for that. I fought my attraction, for I had always thought that I was expected to marry someone from the first circle, with a good dowry, and high connections, maybe even a title. Miss Elizabeth met with all my requirements for a wife, but those. So, I said as little as I could to her, and tried my best to be distant and aloof. You must understand that I was always accosted by young ladies in search for a husband, and I grew to believe that every woman must be trying to catch me."
Fitzwilliam saw the small smile on Mr. Bennet's lips as he tried to hide his amusement.
"You may laugh, Mr. Bennet, I now laugh at myself for such arrogant presumption. I did not wish to raise her expectations, so I left for London. I did my best to forget all about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I went to as many assemblies and balls as I possibly could and was absolutely sure that sooner or later, I would find someone more suitable for me. But I did not. I could not forget her and I was growing more and more desolate when my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and I went for our yearly visit to my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I did not expect to see Miss Elizabeth there, but there she was."
"Visiting Mrs. Collins," Mr. Bennet nodded. "And you say it was not your intention to see her there?"
"My intention then, was to escape her. I am not sure what I would have done if I had known. But there, I realised that my feelings had not changed, if anything, they had grown. I fought it for as long as I could until I could no more. And then, I asked for her hand."
"What?" Mr. Bennet sat straight. "You have been engaged since April?"
"No, sir."
"No? She rejected you then."
"She did, and I deserved it. I delivered the most insulting proposal ever heard."
"What did you say?"
"I spoke of degradation, of social inferiority. I told her I had fought my feelings in vain and... and said I could not congratulate myself on the match."
"And after such speech you expected her to say yes?"
"Believe it or not, I did. I expected her to be happy as many more mercenary women would have been."
"But my Lizzy is not mercenary."
"No, she is not. She rejected me in such a way that left no room for me to believe that I might persuade her. She said she had disliked me from the beginning and that I was the last man she would marry."
"And how did you go from there to here?"
"I spend three months reliving that day. I was angry at first, and then I realised that my behaviour towards her, and everyone here at Hertfordshire had been deplorable. Miss Elizabeth had been wrong about some things, but most of the fault was mine and I did my best, during those three months to amend for my behaviour to others I had before considered beneath me."
"You say Lizzy had been wrong about some things. What were those things?"
"Well, my feelings for one, but mainly... she had been wrong about Wickham."
"Oh," Mr. Bennet collapsed in his seat as he poured himself and Fitzwilliam another drink. "Haven't we all?"
"Yes, my own father included, Sir. Wickham is a good actor and an excellent lier."
"Yes, so I found out. Did you see her again in Derbyshire?"
"Yes, she was turing Pemberley, my father's estate, when we came across each other. My family and I were supposed to arrive the next day, but we came home a day early. The following days, I did my best to prove to Miss Elizabeth that I had changed. Then she was called away back to Longbourn and when I came here with Bingley, I was not sure of her heart, and, thinking it was still untouched, went back to London so as not to cause myself more needless pain."
"And why did you come back?"
"My aunt..." he did not know how to say it.
"Oh, yes, the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh was here along with your parents. Alhough I saw little of her, your parents stayed for tea."
"Yes. Well, my aunt tried to dissuade Miss Elizabeth from marrying me."
Here, Mr. Bennet could not hold his laughter back any more.
"Oh, my! I can imagine Lizzy's response to that. My Lizzy does not like to be ordered about, especially not by someone who does not have any possible right."
"Yes, my aunt was quite agitated when she told me of their conversation."
"I can well imagine. What did she tell you that would make you come back?"
"She told me Miss Elizabeth had refused to promise not to marry me, and that was enough encouragement for me to try again. So, I came back and yesterday, while we were out walking, I proposed again and this time, I was accepted."
"I see," Mr. Bennet said.
"Mr. Bennet, I know you have no reason to think well of me. But I give you my word as a gentleman that I am completely and deeply in love with your daughter. If you give me her hand, I will respect and cherish her; I shall treat her as my partner, as my equal, for the rest of our lives. She and our children will never lack for anything, be it material comfort or love."
Mr. Bennet smiled now and seemed to relax.
"Very well, Mr. Darcy. You have convinced me. Elizabeth will reach her majority in a few days, so I do not think it signifies much at this time, but you have my consent."
Fitzwilliam relaxed too, then.
"Thank you. It means everything to Elizabeth and so, it means to me, too. But tell me, Mr. Bennet, do I have your blessing?"
"I need to speak to Lizzy before that. If I see her as happy with her choice as I believe a future bride should be, then, yes. But, I hope you know the type of woman you are marrying, Sir."
"What do you mean?"
"My Lizzy, as you have probably noticed, is headstrong and independent, opinionated, and tenacious. She will not make a submissive wife and she will probably not take orders even from you."
"I do not wish for a submissive wife, sir. I said I wanted a partner, not a servant. She does not take orders from you?"
Mr. Bennet smiled. "I do not give them. Lizzy is very complaisant with me because I never ask for ridiculous things. I am not saying she will not listen to you, that, she will. When I want her to do something, I ask her kindly and give her reasons, if needed, and she will do anything I ask out of love, not obligation. I have raised her as my equal, encouraged her mind and even her impertinence. I delight in her, but I have always known that the man who married her would have to understand all this and accept it."
"I do, sir."
"Let me give you an example. There was a time, Lizzy was fifteen, I believe, when I did not want her to walk one path near Longbourn for I knew the rains had been heavy and it would have been dangerous for her to walk there. You know, I suppose, how much Lizzy loves walking. Most fathers would have simply forbidden their daughters from walking there. I, instead, explained to her why the road was dangerous and told her I feared for her safety. I will never forget her reply. Without my even asking she said: 'Do not worry, Papa. If it will bring you peace to know I am not walking that path, then I promise I shall not walk there until you tell me it is safe again.'"
"So she can be persuaded with reason."
"As you and I would also be. But women are treated as children, and Lizzy does not appreciate that. Tell me, you would not like your wife to order you about, would you?"
"I would not."
"But you would do anything she asked of you?"
"Yes."
"Then, you see the difference."
"I do, and I do not think I would have ordered her about even without this warning. I have too much respect for her intelligence and spirit."
"Oh, yes," Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Her spirit is something else. Now, go back to the parlour and call her here to me, so I can give my blessing."
"Yes, sir," Fitzwilliam said as he stood up.
"Oh, and Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes?" he turned around.
"I would like to get to know you more if you are planning to take my Lizzy from me, and so far away, no less!"
"I would like that, too, Mr. Bennet. You will always be welcome at Pemberley and we will visit."
"I will hold you to that," Mr. Bennet smiled and as Fitzwilliamd quitted the study, he heard the older man say: "If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure."
Fitzwilliam rose the next day, anxious to see his fiancée and contented that would only be about an hour before he saw her. Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, and Kitty were to come to spend the day at Netherfield, with the younger girls as chaperones. He was particularly anxious about Elizabeth's conversation with her parents, as he had not had the opportunity to ask her himself the night before. She had smiled at him when she came back from seeing Mr. Bennet, which he took as a good sign, but he still wanted to hear it from her that he gave both his consent and his blessing.
It seemed to take the longest time until finally, the Bennet girls had come. Congratulations were given to the newly engaged couple and immediately they separated into groups. Mary sat with a book on her hand, close to Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth; she was near enough to see them, but nor hear them. Kitty, on the other hand, joined the other couple and sat close enough to be part of the conversation. Being of such amiable disposition, neither Bingley nor Jane minded very much and happily made room for her.
"Papa gave us his blessing," Elizabeth finally told him.
"Thank the Lord."
Elizabeth chuckled. "You thought he would not give it?"
"I spent more than an hour there with your father trying to persuade him. He did not seem excited with the prospect."
"Oh, he still isn't. But that is understandable, I suppose. You are stealing his favourite daughter."
"I am," he smiled at her. "Was he too difficult for you to convince?"
"Well... I did have to sing your virtues. Do you believe that is difficult to do?"
"Indeed! For first, you would have to find them."
Elizabeth laughed. "I have found many in the last few months. Actually... I hope you do not mind, but I thought I needed to tell him about Wickham, and what you did for Lydia."
Fitzwilliam sighed. "I would have preferred it if he did not know."
"I know, but I thought it spoke of your character."
"I do not want you to be payment for something I should have done anyways, Elizabeth."
"I am not. He had given his consent before that. But Papa was planning to pay Uncle Gardiner back because he believed that the amount that had to be paid would be too much for my uncle to bear. Now, he is relieved of that burden, for I know you will allow him to pay you back with less urgency than my uncle would have required."
"You are wrong, then."
"Am I?" Elizabeth asked, astonished.
"Indeed. I will not allow your father to pay me back in any way, now or ever."
"He will offer and insist."
"He may do so, the answer shall remain the same," he replied. Then, wanting to change the subject, he asked. "What about your mother? How did she take the news?"
"Oh, Mama," she sighed. "She is as excited as you can imagine her and then some more! She declared you will be her favourite son in law."
"At least someone in your family will be fond of me."
"Jane is also fond of you, Papa will learn to be very quickly and Mary and Kitty are merely intimidated by you."
"And what about the second eldest Miss Bennet?" he asked with a smile.
Elizabeth smiled mischievously before replying with a serious face:
"I dare say she shall learn to tolerate you with time."
Fitzwilliam chuckled, to the rest of the party's surprise.
"Well, I am satisfied with the Bennets, then."
Then, they spoke about their wedding, and, after asking for the other couple's opinion, they agreed they would all marry the same day on a double wedding, the first days of December.
"May I ask something?" Elizabeth asked Fitzwilliam when they were speaking alone again.
"You may ask anything of me, and I will do my best to reply honestly."
Elizabeth's spirits had rose to playfulness again and she wanted Fitzwilliam to account for his having ever fallen in love with her.
"How could you begin?" said she. "I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning, but what could set you off in the first place?"
Fitzwilliam smiled tenderly at her.
"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
"My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners—my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?"
"For the liveliness of your mind I did."
"You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable you would have hated me for it: but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure you know no actual good of me—but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love."
"Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was ill at Netherfield?"
"Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may be; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what made you so unwilling to come to the point at last? What made you so shy of me, when you first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called did you look as if you did not care about me?"
"I? Not care about you? I thought it was the other way around. I was shy because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement."
"But I was embarrassed. I am the sister of the silly girl who eloped and even to this day does not regret it. Worse yet, I am sister to Wickham, I thought you would never..."
"I will not allow Wickham to intervene in my happiness. I was embarrassed too. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable by giving you unwanted attentions."
"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner."
"A man who had felt less might."
"How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you would have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when you would have spoken if I had not asked you! My resolution of thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. Too much I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned the subject? This will never do."
"You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of removing my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to wait for an opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me hope, and I was determined at once to know everything."
"Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? Or had you intended any more serious consequences?"
"My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me, or at the very least, befriend me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made. What about you? You told me you started seeing me in a more favourable light thanks to my wonderful housekeeper, but when did you...?" he trailed off for she had never said the words.
"When did I realise I loved you?" she asked, with a smile on her face, for she knew why he had not completed his sentence.
"You do?" he asked softly.
He knew that the fact that she had agreed to marry him meant she held some affection for him, but whether it was enough to be called love, he did not know. Elizabeth looked at him lovingly, just as he remembered he had wanted her to look at him when he visited Longbourn, and she reached for his hand, trying to keep them hidden from Mary, whom she knew to be a very strict chaperone.
"Maybe you need to hear it," she whispered, just in case anyone else could hear them. "I love you, Fitzwilliam."
The so longed look on her face, the use of his Christian name without the honorific, the realisation—as they were holding hands—that she was now wearing his mother's ring and her admission of love were enough to undo him, and he was sure that were it not for the fact that they were in company, he would have kissed her senseless and hurried the wedding to tomorrow. But he held himself back and enjoyed the waves of pure happiness and elation that went through his whole body.
"You were very wise to say such a thing to me when we are so well chaperoned," he managed to say.
Elizabeth both chuckled and blushed.
"You have not answered my question," he added trying to distract himself.
"Oh, that!" she said, and took her hand from his. He instantly missed it.
"The following days, your behaviour was so altered that I realised I had judged you wrong, and needed to start again on my assessment of you. I liked what I saw then. You were not distant and grave anymore; you smiled and teased and received my aunt and uncle—who I had thought you would never receive in your home—very politely. I was astonished and confused, and then... Then Lydia ran away and I thought your every feeling must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. I could neither wonder nor condemn you for it, but the belief of your self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to me, afforded no palliation of my distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make me understand my own wishes; and never had I so honestly felt that I could love you, as then, when I thought all love to be vain. That day you left me at the inn, I thought I would never see you again and I grieved."
"I thought I had made the depth of my feelings for you obvious at Pemberley. Did you not know I loved you then?"
"I suspected it and when I found out what you had done for Lydia, my heart did whisper that you had done it for me. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations; and I soon felt that even my vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on your affection for me;for a woman who had already refused you, as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against a relationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! I thought every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. I was ashamed to think how much you had done. But you had given a reason for your interference, which asked no extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that you should feel you had been wrong; you had liberality, and you had the means of exercising it; and though I would not place myself as your principal inducement, I did believe that a remaining partiality for me might assist your endeavours in a cause where my peace of mind must be materially concerned. You had other considerations even before that. I could not expect your affections to survive this also. I actually thought that you must have been congratulating yourself on your escape. For myself I was humbled; but I was proud of you—proud that in a cause of compassion and honour you had been able to get the better of yourself."
"You thought I was congratulating myself for having escaped marriage with you?" He asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes," she admitted. "I thought you were happy you had not renewed your offer that day at the inn."
"I would not have renewed it then, for I believed it impossible that you would accept me. But had you accepted me, I would have stood by your side through everything. I would not have cared what was necessary."
"I realise that now, for you did stand by me even though you had no reason to do so."
They were silent for a minute before she asked, amused:
"Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to befall her?"
"I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to be done; and if you will give me some time, it shall be done directly."
Then, to his shame, he realised that in his happiness he had not written his own parents!
"What is it?" she asked.
"I have just realised I have not written to my parents. They must be very worried by now. I should write to them immediately."
"Well, if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected."
I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.
Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.
This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.
