Title: Dare to Refuse Such a Man
Rating: K+ (PG) – because I can't think of anything at this point which would constitute a higher rating. Should be sweet and clean.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency

Summary: It had never occurred to Fitzwilliam Darcy that, once he had chosen a bride, her father might dare to refuse his consent. However, a woman worthy of being pleased is also worth fighting for. DE, Regency, clean romance.

"He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask."

Mr Bennet, Pride and Prejudice Volume III, Chapter 17

Chapter Nineteen

Saturday
October 19, 1811
half past 8 o'clock in the morning

Oh! With such poundings in her head and beatings at her heart, it was no wonder that Mrs Frances Bennet – known affectionately as "Fanny" to those who loved her and "that silly bit of fluff" to everyone else – could get no rest, either night or day. And though even she would (occasionally) admit that sometimes her nervous condition was a touch exaggerated, this morning every complaint was incurably real. And all thanks to Mr Bennet and his high handed, condescending ways!

Fanny's infirmity was made all the worse because it had followed immediately on the heels of a moment of extraordinary triumph. To think that her Lizzy – often considered the best of the Bennet brood by her father and vexatiously difficult by her unappreciated and put upon mother – had attracted the attention of such a gentleman! A man of consequence, of fortune and the most decidedly handsome specimen of masculinity anyone had ever seen! Fanny never would have guessed that hoydenish Lizzy, with her pert opinions and unladylike education, would have suited a man with ten thousand a year. Had Fanny ever been asked to speculate – and she occasionally did even when they failed to do so – she would have thought her dear, sweet, lovely Jane would have been the one to marry so far above their station in life.

Not that Lizzy was without her own charms, of course, it was just that Fanny had despaired of her ever finding any husband at all due to the excesses of her impertinent tongue. In Fanny's own experience, men tended to be attracted not to a woman's brain but rather her appearance and biddable softness. Lizzy was pretty enough, even the equal of Jane when she was in her best looks, but, oh...the things she said. Shakespeare! Politics! The war! Gentlemen had each other to talk to when they wished to canvass such subjects; they looked to ladies for a bit of gentle charm to gratify their vanity.

But then, Fanny considered, the very rich were often an odd sort – just look at King George! Lord, what a silly ninny – and perhaps she had best reevaluate what exceptionally wealthy men preferred in their wives. If Mr Darcy wanted her Lizzy, Fanny would do nothing to dissuade him, even if she could not properly understand it.

Moreover, he had made his inclination perfectly clear during the assembly and would be made to honor it in the end. To think that such a proud, haughty man who had insulted half the neighborhood had such a romantic bent! He had, according to Mrs Long who had witnessed the entire spectacle up close, taken one look at Lizzy and been entirely overcome with passion. Mr Darcy had even nearly knocked the elderly lady over in his haste to get to Lizzy! And that kiss...it had all been exactly like a scene torn from one of those novels Kitty liked to read aloud after dinner.

But, instead of crowing to all the matrons of the neighborhood – especially that Lady Lucas, who flaunted her husband's knighthood as if Sir William had been elevated to Prince Regent – as was her right, Fanny was instead stuck in the limbo of uncertainty. Not because of any cold feet of Mr Darcy, or even Lizzy's contrary nature (which often seemed to arise whenever her long suffering mother's hopes were raised particularly high), but rather to the interference of Mr Bennet. Vexatious, meddling man! Mr Darcy's approach had not been entirely proper, it was true, but to tear the lovers apart and order them all home before anything could be decided upon would begin the worst sort of rumors in the community. There was no telling what Lady Lucas was spreading about the neighborhood this very moment and Fanny had, as yet, nothing to counter her vile lies.

When Fanny had insisted upon an explanation in the carriage on the way home, demanding to know why Mr Bennet had not announced Lizzy's engagement to Mr Darcy right there in the middle of the assembly hall, her odious husband had bid her be silent and commanded them all to say nothing on the matter. Fanny had persisted until Mr Bennet had threatened her pin money and then desisted, most reluctantly.

Lizzy herself had been entirely unreadable the entire way back to Longbourn and Fanny had not known what to make of her. She had then disappeared into her chambers upon arrival, despite the relatively early hour, leaving the rest of them to speculate on the events of the evening without her. Even Jane's company had been declined by Lizzy and so she had remained below in the parlor with her mother and sisters looking quite troubled. Mr Bennet, to no one's surprise, had similarly vanished into his book room and barked at them all that he was not to be disturbed again until the morrow.

Eventually, Fanny had wandered upstairs herself, little though she had expected to rest peacefully with her nerves all aflutter. Hours later, though she lay awake in her bed, Fanny could not bear to stir herself enough to get dressed. Her fatigue and malaise conspired against her in performing any action greater than calling for Hill to attend her; she would take a tray in her rooms this morning, drink her soothing tea – made so by a generous dollop of spirits in her cup – and then, when Mr Bennet least expected her, storm into his study and demand that he make Mr Darcy honor his implied proposal to Lizzy. After all, a man of integrity could not go around kissing girls and not –

SLAM!

Fanny startled into an upright position, spilling the half-filled cup of tea across her lap. Thankfully, it was lukewarm and, thus, did not burn, but oh! Bother, her nightgown was ruined.

With an irritated huff, Fanny set her cup and saucer upon her nightstand and got to her feet, the remains of her beverage dripping from herself onto the carpet around her bed. Did no one in this house care a single whit about her poor nerves? Making such a racket, and at this hour…

Fanny stomped over to the door to her bedchamber, her bare feet thudding against the pine floors, and wrenched it open to thrust herself into the hallway. "Do you want to tear my nerves into shreds? Who – "

All demands to know who the noisy culprit was and further complaints about the state of her health dried upon Fanny's lips as she ran headlong into a tall personage in the corridor. Her eyes, widened by the surprise of finding a man not her husband in the upper portions of her home at such an early hour, rose several inches to discover the identity of their guest.

Mr Darcy! He had come for Lizzy – oh, Fanny knew just how it would be! A man who would kiss her daughter so passionately in front of all and sundry must, of course, wish to marry her and – oh, Lord. She must look such a mess with her hair still bound with curling strips and her nightgown stained with tea – and with no shoes or robe, either! – what would he think of her?

"Excuse me," Mr Darcy mumbled, not even glancing at the frightful sight that Fanny presented before he brushed by her and headed for the top of the staircase. Now that Fanny looked a little closer, Mr Darcy was something of a fright himself; his clothes were neat and expensively cut, but his expression was dark and thunderous. He was angry! Why, what had happened?

"Mr Darcy! Mr Darcy, wait!" Fanny cried, rushing after him only to stop at the head of the staircase when she remembered how improperly dressed she was. Mr Darcy did not heed her, however, and continued to the lower floor without even acknowledging that he was being hailed. Fanny stared after him until she heard the front door open and close with another slam similar to the one which had stirred her from her room a few minutes previously.

"Mama? What's going on?"

Fanny turned round, her expression pulled into one of bafflement, to find her dear eldest child standing a little ways down the hall at the threshold of her own chamber. Jane looked sweetly puzzled by the events which Fanny could not decipher herself. She could guess, however, the instigator of it all.

"Mr Bennet!" Fanny shrieked once she had collected herself enough to determine her next course of action. She shuffled away from the stairs, bypassed the startled Jane and headed straight for the door of her husband's book room. Whatever he had put asunder would be righted, and quickly before Mr Darcy had a chance to reconsider his choice of Lizzy for his wife.

Mr Bennet always insisted that anyone knock before being granted admission to his private space, but Fanny ignored this dictate, as she often did, in the flurry of emotion roused by the excitement of the moment. Grasping the knob, she flung it open with no consideration to the ruckus she was causing and, without further preamble, exclaimed in a helpless wail, "Oh! Mr Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in uproar. You must come and make Mr Darcy marry Lizzy, for he has just left the house in a high dudgeon and if you do not make haste I fear he will not return."

Mr Bennet jolted upright in his chair, his fully loaded pen smearing a dark smudge across whatever he had been scribbling, and gaped at Fanny like a gasping fish. There was a long moment of agitated silence before he seemed to come to himself and shook off his bewilderment, transforming his expression into one of barely constrained patience. Fanny was quite familiar with that look. "Do come in, Mrs Bennet," he invited, his words heavy with sarcasm.

Contrary to popular belief, Fanny was perfectly aware when her husband was teasing her, she simply preferred to read the meaning she chose in his words. It was a simple matter, really, as though she could often tell that he was being facetious by his tone and expression, she could not always divine the particular import of what he was saying. Lizzy often could, sometimes Jane, but Fanny had no use for deciphering convoluted insults; it was frequently enough to simply know that she had been insulted.

In this particular instance, Fanny was entirely uncaring in relation to Mr Bennet's disparagement. She flounced into the room, shaking her handkerchief in his direction, and marched herself into position before his desk where she could make him all the more miserable for being so...so...whatever he was being. Fanny was lacking in a few details, but she would suss out exactly what her husband was being in short order. "Well?" Fanny insisted, widening her eyes and fixing Mr Bennet with her most displeased expression. "What have you to say for yourself?"

"I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said Mr Bennet, reclining back into his chair with an infuriating air of impassivity. "Of what are you talking?"

Fanny clenched her teeth together and rallied her patience; he was deliberately misunderstanding her, impossible man! "Of Mr Darcy and Lizzy, of course! I passed Mr Darcy in the hallway, looking thunderous, and I just know that something has happened! Tell me, did he come to ask for Lizzy's hand or not?"

Mr Bennet shrugged his shoulders laconically in response. "And if he did?"

"Then – ," Fanny experienced a surge of joy; Mr Darcy, a man of ten thousand a year, wanted to marry her Lizzy! Her enthusiasm bubbled over like a tea kettle heated over an open fire. "Then they are engaged? Oh, Mr Bennet! I am entirely overcome – there is so much to do, so much to plan. I must speak to my Sister Philips – oh, and send a letter to Sister Gardiner, for she will know the best warehouses – but where is Lizzy, that dear, dear girl?"

Mr Bennet let her carry on for a short period in this way, irritation writ across his face, before he called her to order. "I did not say that they were engaged, Mrs Bennet, only that he asked for her hand. I refused him."

"But – " Fanny stared at her husband, inspecting every line of his face for some sign of his cruel mockery, but he was unusually stoic. He was not even sporting that ever present little smirk of superiority he was so fond of. "You cannot...no, this is one of your jokes. Shame on you, sir, for teasing me so!" Panic was sharpening Fanny's voice into a shrill wail.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Mrs Bennet; I am not joking in the least. I have forbidden the match between Mr Darcy and Lizzy, but the news is not all bad. Lizzy is still to be married," he paused, likely just to vex his wife with anticipation, before concluding, "to my heir, Mr Collins."

Mr Collins? That horrid man who held Fanny's fate and that of her daughters in his hand when Mr Bennet was dead? She had never met him before, but Fanny was inclined to dislike Mr Collins thoroughly due to his role in the entailment nonsense, certain that he meant to turn them all out into the hedgerows before Mr Bennet was cold in his grave. Now a new sin could be added to that odious man in depriving Fanny of a son-in-law who was one of the wealthiest, most respected personages in all the land. Who was Mr Collins, pray, that he should be allowed so many liberties in disrupting the lives of the Bennets?

"Mr Collins?" Fanny reiterated, her pitch still high. Mr Bennet winced and she was glad of it; he deserved that and more for what he was suggesting. "Hang Mr Collins! What has he to do with anything? Lizzy has caught herself a husband of ten times his consequence!"

"If Lizzy marries Mr Collins," replied Mr Bennet with an air of forced calm, his mouth puckered into a sour frown, "you shall not be thrown from Longbourn upon my death. I would have thought that would make you happy, Mrs Bennet."

Was her husband entirely daft? Certainly, had a greater catch not come along, Fanny would have been satisfied to see Mr Collins married to any of the girls – well, perhaps not Jane or Lydia, who could be expected to do much better – but that was neither here nor there. "What is Longbourn to Mr Darcy and his ten thousand a year? I am sure he has a grand estate of his own somewhere – Derby, I think it was – and is perfectly capable of seeing to the needs of all his dear family upon your passing. Lizzy, dutiful girl that she is, would set us up in style! Moreover, she can throw the rest of the girls into the paths of other rich men – what need have we of Mr Collins?"

Mr Bennet flicked his eyes up toward the ceiling – most disrespectful and hardly the way to treat one's wife of the past four-and-twenty years – before saying, "Regardless of your opinion, or anyone else's, the matter is settled. I made a deal with the current Mr Collins' father some years ago and I will not renege on it. Lizzy is to marry Mr Collins and that is my final word on the subject."

Fanny opened her mouth to object again, not nearly finished in her diatribe, but Mr Bennet cut her off with a silencing hand.

"Now that we understand one another, I shall be glad to have the library to myself again. Please close the door on your way out, Mrs Bennet."

With the least civility possible, Fanny found herself dismissed. Mr Bennet swept the ruined sheet of parchment from his desk, withdrew another from the stack within his drawer and began whatever she had interrupted upon her entrance anew.

Well!

Fanny turned away from her husband with as much dignity as he had left her and retreated from the room with her nose in the air. Insufferable man! As recompense for such intolerable behavior, Fanny made sure to slam the door behind her and hoped that he ruined yet another sheet of parchment because of it.

What she needed now was to lie down and rest her poor nerves. They had been greatly abused already and Fanny could not take another aggravation. Really, she was beginning to feel a little faint from all of this excitement. As soon as she could reach the bell pull, she would call for her salts to revive her.

"Lizzy?" Fanny's attention was drawn to the end of the hall just as she was about to reenter the mistress' chambers and she looked up, her nerves momentarily forgotten, to see dear, sweet Jane standing before Lizzy's door. "Please, Lizzy, let me in."

Fanny abandoned her intended destination and walked toward the place where her eldest was quietly pleading for entrance to her sister's room. The only response from within was silence.

When Jane noticed Fanny's presence, she straightened up and fixed her mother with a look which was, for the placid Jane, full of anxiety. Her mouth was turned into a little frown and her brow, so clear and smooth regularly, wrinkled a bit in concern. "Oh, Mama, it is Lizzy. I do not know what has happened, but she has locked herself in her room and is quite upset...has this something to do with Mr Darcy?"

Knowing full well how close her two eldest daughters were, Fanny assumed that Jane's guess was based on better knowledge than she had. No doubt Lizzy had told Jane all about her Derbyshire love affair when she had kept it from the rest of them – aside from Mr Bennet, who was currently at the heart of whatever was going on. "Oh, yes, I suspect that is exactly what bothers her! Your father is being so high-handed, refusing poor Mr Darcy's suit and disappointing all our hopes!" Most especially Fanny's.

Jane glanced at Lizzy's closed door, clearly longing to breech it and comfort her sister. It was largely quiet inside save for – was that a sob?

Fanny found herself suddenly unsettled, all of her usual pretenses to such a state aside. Lizzy had always been tough as nails, hardly ever a tear from that one even when she had been a babe. Jane had been a serene child, only crying when necessary or overcome, but Lizzy had been almost invariably happy from the moment she came into the world. Happy and full of trouble, her precociousness being the first quality which had garnered Mr Bennet's attention and established her as a favorite (he was fooling no one, they all knew it was so). Aside from the demanding wails which denoted hunger, Lizzy had been all babbling cheerfulness from infancy and into her childhood. Fanny could only recall a handful of times that Lizzy had cried out of either pain or anguish, the last one being when she had been about nine – eight? – and Mr Bennet had sold the family pony because its upkeep had become a burden on their finances. Since then, to Fanny's knowledge, Lizzy had not shed a single tear.

Quite disturbed now that she had thought on the matter more deeply, Fanny darted forward, her steps rushed to attend her child, and rapped upon the wood with frantic energy.

Moments later, a tremulous voice which sounded not at all like Lizzy responded. "P-Please go, Jane...I would...I want to b-be alone."

"Lizzy, open the door," Fanny called out, gently. When, after an extended pause, Lizzy had neither responded nor let her in, she tried again, more firmly. "Lizzy, as your mother and the mistress of this house, I demand that you open the door this instant."

There was another pause in which Fanny thought she would have to insist yet again, but then she heard a soft shuffling from within the chamber beyond the door and she waited. The sound of a key turning within a lock preceded the trembling turn of the knob and, finally, the door opened to reveal Lizzy standing just over the threshold.

Fanny barely recognized her second eldest child, such was the anguish on Lizzy's face; her eyes, so vibrant and sparkling with cleverness usually, were reddened from crying, tears were dripping unheeded from the tip of her chin and, most telling of all, her expression was twisted into what Fanny could only describe as pain. She looked wan and ill, all signs of her robust health absent and leaving only shivering weakness in its place. Fanny was almost inclined to deny that this pale, sickly creature was her Lizzy at all!

"Oh, Lizzy!" cried Fanny, so overcome by the state of her child – her precious, witty, optimistic babe – that tears welled in her own eyes. She spread her arms wide and Lizzy, her face crumpling like a ball of paper clenched in someone's fist, fell into them, burying her face against Fanny's bosom like she had not done since she was very small. Lizzy's sobs then began in earnest, shaking her shoulders and catching in her throat as if she were choking on them, and Fanny pressed her hand against her daughter's head and began stroking her curls. She shushed Lizzy, pressing soft kisses to her crown, and rocked her in place until some of the violence of her emotions subsided.

Once Lizzy's weeping had settled into breathless hiccuping, Fanny ushered her back into the bedchamber, arms still wrapped protectively around her child's shoulders. She further directed Lizzy over to the bed and encouraged her to sit upon the mattress where Fanny joined her. Jane followed them inside and, far more gently than anyone else in the house had done this morning, closed the door behind them, sealing them inside where they could attend to Lizzy with more privacy. Luckily, none of the other girls had yet stirred; they were all heavy sleepers, as young women tended to be in adolescence and especially after a late night of dancing and revelry.

After a few more minutes of rocking, petting and humming a soothing tune into Lizzy's hair, Fanny drew back and used the crook of her finger to tip her second daughter's chin up. "Now, child, tell me what has happened. What has your foolish Papa done?"

Lizzy's shoulders clenched with a spasm even as she calmed, a residual effect of being so overwrought. Mrs Bennet was familiar with the phenomenon, having raised five girls these past three-and-twenty years, most of whom were not as level headed as Lizzy tended to be. "H-He said that I could not m-marry W-W-William and..."

The story of Lizzy's summer romance spilled from her as easily as her tears had and Fanny listened, tempted to interject here or there but reining in the impulse to do so while her daughter purged. Jane, seated across the room at Lizzy's vanity, watched with concern but not surprise; as Fanny had surmised earlier, she was already acquainted with the particulars of Lizzy's courtship with Mr Darcy. Fanny wanted to be indignant that no one had thought to tell her any of this, but supposed that Mr Bennet had forbidden it – a supposition which was confirmed by Lizzy herself toward the end of the tale. How typical of him! He knew, no doubt, that Fanny would have not rested had she known of the potential wealthy son-in-law Lizzy had managed to attract and had kept the information from her to keep his coveted peace. The coward! Well, he was not about to get off so easy now that the cat was out of the bag.

"...and I do not know what to do, Mama!" Lizzy complained, flailing her hands into the air with indignation as she drew her story to a close. Sharing her burden seemed to have done wonders for her composure and, despite still being rather red and blotchy, she was no longer actively weeping. Her primary emotion seemed to have switched to anger at her father (and, truly, he deserved it). "Papa has been so stubborn since he showed up in Derbyshire to bring me home. Do you know, he would not even explain why he had done it? He did not even tell me that he had betrothed me to Mr Collins until this morning when William came to ask for my hand!"

"But Mr Darcy did propose, did he not?" Fanny prompted, leaning forward with eagerness to hear Lizzy's answer.

Lizzy nodded rapidly. "He did! This morning, I happened to meet him out on my walk and he asked me to marry him."

"And you accepted him?"

"Of course! And then brought him home to speak with Papa – " Lizzy stopped speaking, her anger cutting off the end of her thought like a hot brand cauterizing bleeding flesh. She made a visible effort to cool her temper before clarifying, more calmly, "Yes, I accepted him. Not that it matters since Papa has denied his consent and I am not yet of age. I have already told him that I would never marry Mr Collins, not even if he dragged me up to the altar by my hair, and he still refuses William's suit! What am I to do, Mama?"

Another way in which many people underestimated Fanny Bennet was in believing her incapable of circumventing her husband's will. Quite to the contrary, Fanny was good at it, even if her methods were poorly understood. What most saw as caterwauling was actually her greatest weapon; Mr Bennet was, above all else, an indolent man who prized his peace over other most everything, including the wants and needs of those around him. All Fanny usually needed to change her husband's mind was persistence – and sometimes simply the threat of it worked just as well – so there was very little effort involved in getting what she desired. When Mr Bennet insisted on being stubborn, however, that required a different approach, one which Fanny only used when she felt strongly enough to disrupt the delicate balance of the household. This situation called for it.

"First, wash your face and put on a more fetching gown," Fanny instructed briskly, patting Lizzy's hand. When both her daughters stared at her as if she had lost her mind, Fanny grinned at them and leaped to her feet, calling over her shoulder as she opened the door to the hallway, "We are going to visit your Aunt Philips. Come now! Up, Lizzy – and you, Jane. Be ready to depart in half an hour."

"But Mama," Lizzy was continuing to goggle at Fanny uncomprehendingly, "why are we going to visit Aunt Philips? Should we not petition Papa to reconsider, or – or – "

Fanny waved her handkerchief dismissively at her daughters and rushed from the room to scamper toward her own chambers, an optimistic bounce in her step now that she had a plan. "Half an hour, girls! Hill! Hill!"

A Note on Etiquette: One of the major downsides to sharing anything you've created online (writing, artwork, music, a video and so on) is the unrepentant disrespect you get sometimes in response. I am not at all accusing most of my reviewers in behaving this way – the vast majority of you have been wonderful even when you had a criticism to impart – but there have been a few lately on this story and "A Happy Accident" who cannot seem to keep their tone civil. I will remind anyone inclined to be rude or make unfounded accusations that no one is asking you to read this or any of my other works and that your disrespect is unwelcome here. I am happy to accept criticism as it often helps me improve, but it's important to maintain civility when offering it. It mostly only irritates me, but those of an artistic bent – such as writers – are often very sensitive and can be easily discouraged by overly harsh words. If your intent is to help, please point out issues with respect. If not, don't bother to review at all and move on to something that you prefer. I'm not at all saying that you should sugarcoat your comments or make up compliments that you don't feel, only that you should treat the author as a human being rather than some anonymous, faceless entity that lives inside your computer and treat them with the same kindness and respect that you expect for yourself.

All of that said, I'm not inclined to disallow Guest reviews because that would be punishing the majority for the crimes of the minority and that's not right. I also won't bother to delete any unkind reviews, only occasional duplicates, as I have been so far. I will also proceed to IGNORE any comments with a disrespectful tone from henceforth and only respond to those who can maintain civility, regardless of the content of their review.

You already know if this message applies to you. Let's play nice.

Author's Note: This might seem odd, but I felt more emotional planning/writing this chapter than all of the more angsty ones that came before it. As a mother, I deeply empathize with Mrs Bennet here; when your child hurts, you hurt. Even a woman as silly, simple minded and, yes, self centered as Mrs Bennet would feel the same. You can't look at your baby's pain, no matter how old they are, and not feel it yourself. Jeeze, I can't stop tearing up...I feel a little silly, but there you go.

On a more amusing note, I don't think I've ever used quite so many exclamation points in a single chapter, lolz. Mrs Bennet is an excitable thing, isn't she?

Anyway, now that Mrs Bennet is on the case you can bet that Mr Bennet won't get away with his selfishness so easily. He underestimates her at his own peril. The plot thickens!

Next Update: April 24, 2020
Expected Completion: July 24, 2020

– MrsMarySmythe