Title: Dare to Refuse Such a Man
Rating: T (PG-13) – Most of this story is turbulent, but relatively innocent. However, there are some scenes which hint at/depict domestic violence.
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
PSA: I hope that you and yours are safe and healthy during the COVID-19 crisis. Take precautions for yourself and others and please don't hoard any goods that your family doesn't need; we're all in this together, even while we remain physically apart.

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 Thirty-Four

Saturday
November 16, 1811

Bennet stared at the bottom of his glass and lamented how empty it was. He was inclined to refill it, but the decanter on his desk was similarly drained and he was in no mood – or condition – to teeter down to the wine cellar for another bottle. He could call upon the aid of a servant, but that would disturb his solitude, something which he had avoided since throwing his boorish, stupid, vicious cousin from the house the day before. Instead, he would blearily watch the last blood red droplets pool at the bottom of his cup as he internally castigated himself for the biggest blunder of his life.

Having done little else for the past thirty-something hours, Bennet was heartily ashamed of himself for what had transpired. The full culpability could, perhaps, be parceled out to others in some small measure – Collins, for instance, the brutish blackguard, or that meddling patroness who had put him up to the violence meted out against Lizzy – but Bennet felt the whole of it upon his own shoulders. After all, who should suffer but himself? It had been his own doing, his own selfishness, and he ought to feel all the responsibility for it. He wished to believe that he was being too severe upon himself, but he knew it not to be the case and, for once in his life, he meant to feel how much he had been to blame. He was not afraid of being overpowered by the impression and assumed that it would pass away soon enough. Probably far sooner than it should.

In the meantime, Bennet had much to think about and much to atone for. He could not expect to be completely forgiven under the circumstances – nor did he feel himself deserving of such magnanimity – but it was now his duty to put whatever he could to rights. Beginning, naturally, with withdrawing his objections to Lizzy's marriage to Darcy. Assuming that Darcy's note had been truthful and that Lizzy's faith in her lover was not misplaced, Bennet would have the chance to at least make amends by giving his consent and setting a wedding date. He had been tempted, in one of his more sober moments, to go ahead and send a note to Mr Stephens to begin the calling of the banns, but Bennet was timid about doing anything so overt until Darcy himself returned to Hertfordshire. Further, his handwriting was not in top form after so much drink and he could not fathom inviting another into his sanctum for dictation. He would wait.

Another task to perform, one which Bennet felt not a single ounce of hesitation in carrying out, was speaking with his brother Philips on the matter of Collins. In his muddled state, Bennet was not perfectly clear on exactly what sort of punishment could be meted out to his cousin for the savagery committed against Lizzy, but a legal mind – no matter how directed it was by the bearer's wife – would have some idea of how to proceed against Collins. Bennet had already considered and rejected the idea of simply turning Collins over to the local magistrate, Mr Purvis, for the sake of preserving Lizzy's reputation and dignity, as well as that of his other daughters. If there was anything Bennet had learned in pitting himself against Mrs Bennet over the past several weeks, it was that rumors were not easily quelled and there was no telling what tale Collins might spin, particularly in light of a betrothal that he, himself, had sanctioned at the time the attack had taken place. Further, the cur might escape all sanction entirely if Lady Catherine were inclined to use her influence in Collins' defense. But he could not bury himself in his books as he had done previously and allow the injustice to stand; Philips would know what to do in order to exact a pound of flesh from his flabby cousin while still maintaining a certain amount of discretion. Yes, he would visit Philips on Monday – the morrow being the Lord's Day and, thus, all matters of business not devoted to His worship suspended – and inquire about what needed to be done. He must endeavor to become sober by then.

Such practical planning, conducted early in his path to inebriation, had comforted Bennet and distracted him from his guilt with its logical coolness. However, as he sank more deeply into drink, his mind returned to the emotional weight of everything he had – and had not – done to injure those he cared for most. Bennet wished, most desperately, to believe that he had not ruined Lizzy's happiness by his selfish, lazy endeavors, but the half-decanter of port he had drank made him paranoid. In the darkness of his most pessimistic thoughts, he had convinced himself that he had consigned Lizzy to a lifetime of loneliness and ridicule by chasing Darcy out of Hertfordshire, never to return. Only by reminding himself of the great lengths Darcy had previously gone to in order to find Lizzy, the various and very public displays of affection he had scandalized the neighborhood with, and the indisputable devotion he had shown had pulled Bennet out of the manic abyss into which he had descended. Darcy would return for Lizzy. Bennet prayed it would be so as he had never prayed for anything before.

If – when Darcy did come back, as his longstanding loyalty implied, he would make Lizzy a far better husband than that dolt Collins ever would have, violent tendencies aside. Bennet could see that now; she could have been neither happy nor respectable with a man such as Collins. She needed a gentleman she could look up to as a superior, which Collins certainly was not, either in upbringing or education. She would have scarcely escaped discredit and misery. Had the marriage gone ahead, Bennet realized that he would have had the grief of seeing her unable to respect her partner in life. With Darcy, Lizzy would have her match in consequence, intelligence and affection – something which Bennet had blindly ignored in favor of having his own way. To think that he would have parted with Lizzy to someone less worthy had she not been so obstinate and Darcy so headstrong. The thought sickened Bennet and he fought off a wave of nausea.

Bennet set his glass upon the desk and it toppled over. His bumbling hand caught it before it rolled off the edge of the desk, but just barely. He set it upright and then slowly withdrew lest he upset it again. He had not been so foxed since his university days. It might have been yet worse had he not already drank half of his port the night before...everything.

The scene from the breakfast room flashed across Bennet's mind and he groaned, leaning forward to hide his face within the folds of his arms. Papers crinkled beneath him as he settled into a useless lump across the desktop, overcome by wretched guilt. He could still hear Mrs Bennet's shrieks echoing inside his head as she beat that whelp Collins over and over with her tiny little fists. He had quite forgotten how feisty she could be after so many years of scoffing at her "nervous condition." Perhaps there was something to it, after all, considering how little control she had been able to exercise over herself in her violent chastisement of Collins. Only carrying Mrs Bennet out of the room where she could neither attack her target nor see Lizzy sprawled out on the floor had calmed her fit in the slightest. Upon reaching the back sitting room, Mrs Bennet had collapsed into a weeping slump in Bennet's arms almost as if she had simply run out of the energy required to fight. He had settled her, still sobbing, into her favorite chair and promised to send someone to tend to her whilst he dealt with the situation in the breakfast room.

Mrs Bennet, with renewed fear and panic in her eyes, had grabbed hold of his arm and begged him, "Mr Bennet, swear to me – swear to me that you will not give Lizzy to that man! You cannot – cannot – " before her speech had dissolved back into wrenching tears.

That Mrs Bennet could even think him capable of consigning Lizzy to the whims of such a brute was all his own fault. Had he not, over the past weeks, stubbornly refused to consider anyone's feelings on the issue other than his own? Had he not thrown his daughter at a simpleton without regard to her future happiness? Had he not ignored many of Collins' worst qualities and swept away all attempts by his family to point them out? It was truly no wonder his own wife would believe that Bennet would look the other way.

He had assured Mrs Bennet, after swallowing the lump of guilt which had welled in his throat, that he had no intentions of giving Lizzy to Collins after this debacle and she had somewhat relaxed, sinking into her chair in a boneless heap. The tenor of her sobs switched from anguish to relief at his promise to dissolve the betrothal between Lizzy and Collins and so it seemed that she believed him. After gently promising once more to send her some aid, Bennet had left to attend the matter most requiring his immediate attention.

Throwing Collins from the house had been satisfying, but Bennet dearly wished he had done more – both before the incident and during its execution. The buffoon deserved far more than a set down and some rough handling, but Bennet had not considered himself so in control that he would not beat him to death. The world would have been better off without a toad like Collins in it and Bennet would have suffered little remorse for having removed him from it, but he could not leave his wife and daughters unprotected in the wake of the consequences such an action would bring about. Even if Darcy were still willing to take Lizzy to wife if his father-in-law were executed for murder, it was Bennet's responsibility to see to his family's care. Thus, he had not allowed himself the cathartic release of giving Collins a dose of his own medicine. Should he ever see that miscreant again, however…

Bennet shook his head to dispel that train of thought and regretted it instantly as his head began to swim. After allowing a moment for the dizzying sensation to pass, Bennet retrained his mind in another direction. Namely, how he would ever face Lizzy again after what had happened. Even should she have the goodness to ever absolve him – not that he even slightly deserved it – their relationship, such as it was before the Collins fiasco, would never return to what it once was. That ship had decidedly sailed and sank in a storm. And this was the best case scenario that Bennet faced with his favorite child; she had already threatened to never forgive him for his meddling more than once.

He would not blame Lizzy in the slightest if she decided to never speak to him again once she was married and off to Derbyshire with Darcy, but perhaps Bennet still had something of a chance to improve the circumstances of the others before they, too, left him forever. Bennet had often wished, before this period of his life, that, instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. He now wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that respect, he need not have feared any threat that the elder Collins could put forth. The funds could have been irretrievably assigned to the ladies of Longbourn to see to their future needs, or he could have used them to combat his late cousin's frivolous lawsuit, should the man have ever decided to actually take it to the courts. The betrothal between Lizzy and the younger Collins had, at the time, seemed like exactly the sort of easy solution he had wished for in the wake of Lydia's birth – one which would cause little expense or inconvenience to himself. Bennet should have done more, thought less of his own comfort and convenience, and told the elder Collins to take his deal with him into the bowels of Hell.

But before the arrival of his fifth daughter and the death of all hopes for a son, Bennet had been unforgivably indolent in planning for the future and now his family suffered for it. He had tied his favorite child to a man so far beneath her that he had nearly ruined her every chance at happiness, only to preserve himself some small effort over the years. He was heartily ashamed of himself for failing to protect and provide for them all. He would do better; starting that very day – or whenever his drunkenness abated, more like – Bennet would do a thorough assessment of the estate's finances and determine where they could be saving, what they could do to ensure better crop yield, and generally improve their standing. If Lizzy were inclined to be generous with him – or if he could at least prove to her that he was sincere in his intentions to be better – she might be willing to assist him in making these decisions. She would not do it for him, he had no illusions about that, but perhaps she could be convinced to do so for her mother and sisters. Even if not, Bennet would simply burn the midnight oil until he had sorted it out for himself. It was the very least he could do as the master of Longbourn.

And, honestly, with both Lizzy and Jane attached to wealthy and consequential men, Bennet's efforts were halved. It was too little, too late to add much to the dowries of his eldest daughters, but he might still improve the prospects of the three youngest. And Mrs Bennet. Yes, he would be sure to find some way to ensure her upkeep, as well…she deserved as much, considering the lengths she had gone to in order to protect Lizzy from the misery Bennet had attempted to inflict.

Recalling some of his wife's methods at thwarting him brought a limp smile to Bennet's lips. He might have been irritated with her during the execution of her plans, but in hindsight he was forced to admit that Mrs Bennet – or Fanny, as he had once fondly thought of her – was far more clever than he had ever given her credit for. Honestly, he should not have doubted her as much as he had considering the crafty methods she had employed to lure him into marriage in the first place, but in his resentment he had ignored all signs of her intelligence, preferring to wallow in what was, ultimately, his own mistake. As the years had passed and Fanny had grown more "nervous," Bennet had dismissed her as "silly" and "ridiculous," doing nothing at all to nurture that little kernel of canniness into something more appropriate. She might have been a better companion all this time had he made some effort to improve her mind. But he had not and then blamed Fanny entirely for the failure of their marriage. Considering recent events, Bennet was forced to acknowledge that his wife was more than he had thought and deserved greater respect from himself and everyone. Though accustomed to doing the opposite, Bennet would attempt to show Fanny that he recognized her as an equal going forth. Perhaps then they might enjoy some semblance of what their relationship could have been the past four-and-twenty years.

Yes, Bennet had much to atone for after years of neglect and selfishness. But he would be better. He must be.

A light rapping upon the door indicated to Bennet that he had somehow attracted a visitor to his solitude, despite having not emerged from his library for more than a day. He lifted his throbbing head from his arms and stared at it; it was blurry around the edges and faded in and out of focus. When he did not immediately answer the summons, the person knocked again. "Papa?"

When Bennet heard the voice, smothered by the closed door, his heart seized. Lizzy.

"Papa, please open the door...I have brought your dinner."

Bennet swallowed, but still said nothing in response. He could not allow Lizzy to see him this way, drunk and slovenly. Further, he thought with a wince, it would be tortuous to look upon the evidence of Collins' brutality and his own failure upon her face.

There was a long moment of silence before Bennet heard the clatter of a tray full of dishes set upon the floor in the hallway. "Good night, Papa." And then footsteps trailing away.

Bennet slumped back in his chair, his heart and mind both throbbing with regret. He was still behaving like a cowardly lout and avoiding that which he did not wish to face. He would do better, he savagely reminded himself, he would make amends. He must.

Despite his blurred vision, his unsteady coordination and the overall illness that he felt, Bennet stood and staggered over to the door. He opened it, picked up the dinner tray his sweet Lizzy had left for him, and brought it inside, grateful to see a carafe of coffee amongst the other victuals. He set it upon his desk, resettled himself in his chair and poured himself a cup of the invigorating liquid. After draining it, he poured himself another and then reached for the handle of his desk drawer where his ledgers were stored.

Author's Note: No, it's not so easy to just forgive and forget Mr Bennet, but at least he recognizes that and intends to be a better man in the wake of his mistakes. Don't feel obligated at all to think better of him if you don't wish to, but I think it's fair to acknowledge that he's not unrepentant or evil. Also, let's all remember that forgiveness is often more cathartic for the person doing the forgiving than the person being forgiven.

Up next, Lady Catherine descends...dun dun dunnnnn.

Also, thanks to amr from A Happy Assembly who pointed out a small, yet important, grammatical error in Ch 33 and taught me a little something. I meant to correct it before my next posting day, but obviously did not get to it. Whoopsie.

Next Update: July 13, 2020 (MONDAY)
Expected Completion: July 31, 2020

– MrsMarySmythe