A/N: Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones!
This is a one-shot (I know… famous last words).
Wade
After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted, by the pleasantness of the morning, to stop at the gates and look into the park. ...
She had turned away; but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also, and, holding out a letter, which she instinctively took, said, with a look of haughty composure, "I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?" And then, with a slight bow, turned again into the plantation...
P&P Chapter 35
"WAIT!" Elizabeth said with enough force to give the gentleman pause, but not loud enough to be heard more than a few yards away.
Darcy paused, stared straight ahead for a moment, and then gradually turned around to walk the few paces back to the lady.
Elizabeth felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and into yet another very awkward situation. To have declined four proposals from two men in half a year was far-far beyond what any young lady should have to endure, and yet… and yet… and yet it was to be her burden to bear.
She handed the letter back unopened, and spoke timidly, almost shyly. "Please put that away for a moment, Mr. Darcy. It would be both improper and dangerous for me to take it, let alone read it… but…"
Darcy looked far closer to a frightened rabbit than the haughty Master of Pemberley, but he thought that if he wished to behave in a more gentlemanlike manner, the least he could do is follow the lady's instruction – especially when he had just broken all the vaunted rules of propriety that he had harped on about for so long during his ill-fated proposal the previous day. It also belatedly occurred to him that he had no right to boast of the propriety of fifteen-year-old girls. Given the events of Ramsgate, Lydia Bennet looked downright demure when he really thought about it.
He tucked the controversial letter into his waistcoat pocket unopened. "My apologies, Miss Bennet. I apparently did not think this all the way through."
"May I ask an incongruous question, sir?" she asked shyly.
"Of course," he said, but it was clear he said it more out of obligation or habit than desire.
Elizabeth shuffled her feet nervously and wondered why she was going to all this fuss and bother. Given her reaction the previous day, she should either take the letter or leave it – but otherwise, just get on with her day and thence her life. Something about that thought bothered her though. The idea of 'last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry,' being the last words she ever spoke to him did not sit well. Haughty manners or not, it was uncharitable and unfair to rate him below her other erstwhile suitor.
After a bit of handwringing, she finally looked at him directly. "Do you ever think about family strength and weakness, Mr. Darcy? I mean in terms of resilience over generations?"
Darcy was completely startled by the question, which was as incongruous as she claimed. That said, he decided to leave off trying to work out what the lady meant (since he was unlikely to succeed), and just answer the question at face value.
"I think about it nearly constantly, Miss Bennet. As I said in that long-ago discussion at Netherfield, I inherit the work of many generations. I am expected to be responsible for the honor of both my predecessors and my successors. Why do you ask?"
Elizabeth saw that he was matching her handwringing by holding his hands behind his back so tightly his arms looked like he was trying to break one of them.
Elizabeth tried to lighten the tension with a small jest. "Do you think it one of those questions born of the inscrutable female thought processes that men always claim they are unable to comprehend?"
He did chuckle along with her, though nervously. "I think I can make the claim honestly, Miss Bennet. I…" and then he paused significantly, then finally continued in some exasperation, "… it is probably my fault, but I can remember almost no truly honest conversations with women since I entered society. I do not even understand my sister, let alone anyone else."
She asked curiously, "Why is that sir?"
"Do you want an honest answer, Miss Bennet? It will sound… prideful."
The way he said 'prideful' made her think there was something more to his pride than she had previously believed, or perhaps he was still stinging about the conversation in the parlor at Netherfield.
She asked timidly, "We both said horrible things to each other yesterday. Could we at least for the duration of this conversation speak honestly?"
"I would like that very much."
"Please continue, sir."
Darcy gave a great sigh. "Imagine taking your elder sister and making her rich beyond all imagining. Throw her into London society with no mother to guide her, a distant father who disdains London entirely (much like yours), and naught but a few close friends. How many honest conversations would she have with men? Keep in mind, I am speaking of Miss Bennet, not you."
She gave the effort her full attention for a few moments and sighed in resignation. Jane had been fending off men since she came out at fifteen. It would have been even worse except Meryton had few single men and even fewer who were willing to tolerate Mrs. Bennet. She thought about it for a while and finally nodded in resignation.
"She would be fending off fortune hunters and rakes all day every day."
Darcy nodded, unwilling to speak any further, and gave the lady some time to think upon it further.
Elizabeth finally asked, "May I continue with my original inquiry, Mr. Darcy?"
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he said, but this time, in a gentle, almost jesting tone. He was hoping to see just a little bit more of the spark that was Elizabeth Bennet. If this was to be their last meeting, he wanted to end it on better terms than it started.
She laughed, showing that she at least remembered the phrase from the Netherfield ball, and then began her question.
"I was thinking about strength and weakness, sir. In my great-great-grandfather's day, Longbourn included all of Sir William's land and some of Netherfield's. Its income was double or treble what it is now. My great-grandfather was not the man his father was and lost what became Lucas Lodge. My grandfather was even less than his father. He gambled away the Netherfield lands while at Cambridge, so his father instituted the entail to try to keep what was left at least intact, if not prosperous. My father is the last of the Bennets, and it will go to the Collins with an income that is £2,000 on a very good year (though, to be honest, we have few of those). He has a very silly wife and five dowerless daughters, half badly behaved, without a marriageable one among the lot. Can you see where I am going with this, Mr. Darcy?"
He did not quite see if she was talking generalities or specifics, so simply decided to address the pattern that the lady had described.
"I believe you assert that something has weakened the Bennet line nearly into extinction?"
"Exactly! We always married from the few long-standing prominent families in Meryton, whom all knew each other over several generations. No tradesmen or outsiders were even to be considered. My mother is the closest thing to an outsider to marry into the family for a century, and even her grandfather was a gentleman from the area."
Darcy managed to loosen the hold on his wrist long enough to scratch the side of his forehead in confusion, (a gesture Elizabeth found fascinating for a man who always kept himself so tightly wound).
"I assume there is more to say on the subject."
Elizabeth nodded. "Of course! Rosings, as my none too sensible cousin frequently repeats, was once prosperous enough to spend £800 on window glazing alone! Yet, here it sits with a quarter of its land fallow as far as I can tell, at least two tenant cottages empty, and the inheritance resting on a single daughter who looks hard-pressed to marry, let alone carry a son… no offense."
Darcy chuckled. "None taken! My aunt has been pretending we have a cradle engagement for years. No amount of denial will convince her, but I assume you had a point. Do you believe this to be the same sort of problem?"
"I suspect it is the same problem, only worse. Lady Catherine is the daughter of an Earl, and only the fact that you are her beloved sister's son would allow her to consider a mere gentleman. I assume such inbreeding has been the custom for generations, but for whatever reason, the de Bourghs are not what they once were."
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. "I presume you are working your way up to Pemberley?"
"Yes, sir. I have no idea what past generations were capable of, but in the current generation, the standard for the most important decision of the young master's life seems to be that he should make a half‑hearted-at-best effort at courtship and give up at the first obstacle!"
Darcy gasped loudly as if she had slapped him (again!) and Elizabeth wondered if she had pushed him too far.
She saw his face go through what felt like three shades of purple, before he finally growled, "You think 'the last man in the world' qualifies as 'the first obstacle'?"
Not to be intimidated, she snapped!
"I do, sir! In fact, I shall not scruple to assert, that the serenity of your countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable your temper, your heart was not likely to be easily touched. You slighted me the very first time we were in company, (something that goes apologized to this day). According to your cousin, you dragged Mr. Bingley away from my sister, who is my superior in every way. She was and still is very much in love with him, little though he deserves it. Since you arrived in Kent, you have been grave and silent far more often than anything else. Colonel Fitzwilliam outtalks you ten to one. I can honestly say that I had no idea you found me anything but disagreeable."
By that time, she expected to be standing on her toes shouting at the gentleman but was quite surprised to find herself shrunk down upon herself and practically whispering.
Darcy, for his part, was alternating between staring and gasping inaudibly. This was far worse than the harsh words of the day before, and he had not the slightest idea what to say.
Elizabeth looked him in the eye and continued. "When I declined last evening, did you ask me why I did so in a way that I could answer intelligently – the way you might ask a difficult question of someone you loved? Did you explain what was right with me, instead of what was wrong? Did you try to make me understand your feelings in any way, aside from that first startled-sounding declaration of love?"
Darcy closed his eyes, and just shook his head in shame and further embarrassment.
Elizabeth did not like to see him slumped in defeat, which surprised her. She disliked it even more than the angry and petulant gentleman she had dealt with the previous day, so she took a chance. She carefully unclasped her right hand from her left and reached over to grasp his arm.
"That is the first obstacle, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps, the events of the months preceding it might be called obstacles –or at least they are from my perspective– but you cannot consider something an obstacle if you are not really trying."
Darcy finally looked at her hand on his sleeve, then up to her face, and answered slightly petulantly.
"Is it your contention that this is a sign of the 'Darcy weakness', Miss Bennet, and if so, why exactly do you feel the need to throw it in my face?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "Because, sir, if my contention about family weakness is correct, the Darcys need new blood or you will follow the Bennets and de Bourghs into extinction. You may be doing a very awkward job of trying to acquire it, but I do applaud the effort. You seem to be avoiding the members of the ton as well as the upstart social climbers of Miss Bingley's ilk. I applaud the effort, if not the execution."
Darcy laughed a bit in spite of himself. "Though it sounds like the severest censure, Miss Bennet, it may be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in some time."
Elizabeth laughed with him, though she was not at all certain it was funny.
She drew a deep breath, and finally said, "Mr. Darcy, I chastise you because… because… well… to tell the truth… I do not really know why I do it. I just could not stand to leave things as they were yesterday."
"Where does that leave things then?" he asked in genuine concern, mixed with a dash of puzzlement.
Elizabeth thought for some time and finally said, "I suppose you must decide something, Mr. Darcy. While I do not hold myself up as a prize – apparently my hand was something you desired at one time. It becomes a question of how much? Presuming neither of us would ever stoop so far as to force an alliance, we are still quite some distance apart. At the moment, I do not repent my refusal in the least – but I bitterly regret the manner of it. You may or may not regret proposing in the first place, but here we are."
He sighed, "Yes… here, we are," with no better idea how to continue.
Elizabeth said, "Is a marriage between us something worth winning, Mr. Darcy? It seems to me that if our union is worth having, it is worth fighting for. If it is not worth fighting for, it was not worth having in the first place. Handing me a letter and walking off without giving me a chance to reply, does not sound like fighting for something important."
Darcy snapped, "It sounds to me like taking a lady at her word. Should I keep importuning you or keep chasing you when you have made your preference clear? I would have just walked away but there are things you need to know for your own protection, as well as things I wished to say to defend my own honor. Perhaps we are still dealing with unregulated pride, but I could not stand the idea of having you somewhere in the world thinking so badly of me simply because I did not tell you some important facts."
Elizabeth had to stop a minute and think about that and finally sighed in acceptance. "I can see your point, sir. This is my second proposal in four months, and it does not seem to be something that gets better with practice."
Darcy gasped but just gave her an expectant expression, hoping she might continue now that she temporarily seemed less likely to bite his head off.
She sighed. "Mr. Collins is the heir presumptive to Longbourn since it is entailed on the male line. He came to Longbourn to 'heal the breach', meaning to marry one of the Bennet daughters. My mother offered me up as the sacrificial lamb without asking me or anybody else – even though Mary would have been a much better choice. I had to refuse him three times, and he kept saying it was the 'the usual practice of elegant females' to deny requests they mean to later accept. I had to get my father to deny permission before he finally gave up and proposed to Charlotte three days later."
Darcy had his mouth hanging open.
Elizabeth continued, "So, I suppose that your acceptance that 'no means no' is admirable – all things considered."
She stared at the ground in embarrassment.
Darcy cleared his throat. "If I decided not to give up at the first obstacle, would I be 'fighting for something worthwhile' or 'refusing to take no for an answer,' Miss Elizabeth?
She thought about it and finally sighed. "I would hope to vacate my current position as 'Mistress of Hypocrisy', Mr. Darcy. I suppose it all depends on how you refuse to give up. Mr. Collins just kept repeating the same arguments over and over, expecting to browbeat me into submission. My mother did the same, although she would have more success browbeating a rock."
Darcy chuckled, glad to see she seemed to be returning to less murderous humor.
With his own sigh, he said, "It is certainly too late to start over, but…" then he paused significantly, and finally continued, "… my image of you has changed with this conversation. You are stronger than I realized. Perhaps, I can change your image of me, and see where that takes us."
She smiles slightly. "At the very least, we should be able to improve on 'mortal enemies until the end of time.'"
Darcy chuckled and smiled (surprisingly handsomely). Elizabeth was not certain she had ever seen him truly smile, but she had to admit that she had seen this smile's younger cousin occasionally when she caught him staring at her.
She said, "I still fear obligation, Mr. Darcy. Suppose we do this? Tell me what is in that letter you worked on all night in three sentences."
He looked surprised. "Three sentences?"
"Yes, that should do the trick, I would think."
Darcy put his hand over the top of the pocket holding the letter as if he was trying to suck inspiration into his fingertips through the cloth. He took a deep breath before starting.
"George Wickham is a criminal, liar, gambler, cheat and seducer, who was educated at my father's expense, though all of it was entirely wasted on gambling, booze and women, who asked for and received £3,000 in lieu of a living my father bequeathed to him, which he subsequently spent along with another £1,000 he received outright in four years, then asked for the living again when it fell vacant unexpectedly, and when denied, he tried and nearly succeeded in seducing my fifteen-year-old sister to elope with him just to get her dowry of £30,000."
Darcy was breathing hard at the end of it, and Elizabeth was so shocked she had turned pale and was swaying on her feet.
Feeling bold, Darcy took hold of her arm and led her off the main path into a trail that was mostly hidden from sight. He led her a few dozen paces to a small bench next to a pond, where he wiped off the seat with his handkerchief and helped her sit. He was perfectly aware she was made of strong enough stuff that she would have been fine without his intervention, but he (correctly) reckoned that a poor excuse was better than none and getting her out of sight could only help his case (so long as they were not observed).
Elizabeth sat for some time, giving way to every variety of thought–re-considering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself, as well as she could, to a change so sudden and so important. At length, it was the story of Miss Darcy that turned it from a rather fanciful tale that she was only half-inclined to take at face value (even though she had to sheepishly admit she had done so with Mr. Wickham's story), to the opposite extreme. Nobody would use his sister so abominably if it was not only true but very important to the man to convince her of his veracity.
She finally looked at the gentleman, who was watching her carefully with obvious concern.
She finally laughed, though there was no humor in it. "That is quite a run-on sentence, Mr. Darcy."
He laughed, though his was just as brittle. "With only three sentences, I cannot waste punctuation."
She nodded and sighed sadly. "I believe you, Mr. Darcy! I am ashamed to say that I believed Mr. Wickham, apparently only because you wounded my vanity and he flattered it. I feel so very stupid."
She wondered how Jane would take this news. What a stroke was this for poor Jane! who would willingly have gone through the world without believing that so much wickedness existed in the whole race of mankind, as was here collected in one individual.
She finally said, "Now, I suppose I shall have to work out how much of my disapprobation of you was directly fed by Mr. Wickham's lies, and how much you earned. I fear, the result will not earn me any praise for my supposed intelligence."
He snorted. "It is not as if I can claim any bragging rights. I thought you were expecting my address. I fear I own the market on arrogance and stupidity."
She wanted to contradict him, but since he was not precisely wrong, it would seem disingenuous.
Instead, she said, "You have two sentences left, sir," thus closing the book on George Wickham. If they managed to remain at least friends, she imagined there would be time to deal definitively with the cretin later. She certainly would have to do something about him.
Darcy heaved a great sigh and started a sentence he did not expect to go quite so well.
"I observed your sister, Jane, most carefully at the Netherfield ball, once Sir William's assertions and your mother's endless boasting made me aware of a general expectation of a marriage, but the serenity of her countenance, and the way she looked at my friend with no more nor less approbation than anyone else, convinced me that her heart was not easily touched, which would be very bad for my kind-hearted friend, who deserves a match of equal affections, and who is not in a very good position to deal with that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by your mother, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father."
Elizabeth jumped up from the bench and stomped all the way around the small, poorly tended pond in the center of the glade Darcy had brought her to, burning with rage. However, when she found herself on the other side of the pond reaching for a rock, and she could not work out if she wanted to burn off her frustration by making a big splash in the pond or throw it at Mr. Darcy's head – she paused and looked over at the gentleman. Her ire was softened by the man's countenance. He looked like he was watching his life end right in front of his eyes, and she realized that she had been frightfully unfair asking him to summarize in one sentence something that she could easily discuss for hours. Her family mortified her! She remembered thinking at the ball that, had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success.
She had twenty years to learn to deal with her family, while Mr. Darcy had weeks. If she was truly honest with herself, she would have to sheepishly admit that she would not willingly marry into her family either. That realization put her into a complete state of shock. Mr. Darcy had correctly identified her family as the worst behaved family of her acquaintance, yet he had volunteered to join it. How much more mortifying for a Mr. Darcy than a Mr. Bingley to join such a family, and yet he proposed marriage.
She quite surprised herself by running back around the pond, until she was standing in front of him breathing slightly heavily.
"Mr. Darcy, we will discuss Jane and Mr. Bingley at another time, but, for the moment …" then she paused in embarrassment, as if she was unsure of herself, but then sucked up her nerve and continued, "… for the moment, let us just accept that you are partially right, and leave that sentence as-is. I imagine the longer description in your letter might have softened the blow?"
He looked rather uncomfortable, but his basic honesty forced him to shake his head.
"Probably not, Miss Elizabeth. I started the letter with a feeling of bitterness, and I fear it would have been obvious …" then he also drew a shuddering breath before continuing, "… but, as you say, we can discuss it another time. If your sister does esteem Bingley more than I believed, perhaps the problem can be resolved in both their favors with a few words spoken in the right place and time."
She very deliberately sat back down on the bench she had abandoned a few minutes earlier, and also very deliberately, several inches closer to the gentleman.
She gently said, "One more sentence, Mr. Darcy."
The gentleman noticed her new position, primarily because he was always acutely aware of Miss Elizabeth. He thought it just might be possible that he was past the first obstacle. All he needed was one more sentence, and he had the ideal candidate. It did not even require refinement. It was perfect, exactly as written.
"I will only add, God bless you."
The look of wonder on her face was everything he had ever dreamed. It taught him hope, as he had scarcely ever allowed himself to hope before, and his answering smile conveyed his own sentiments.
With a Jane-like smile, Elizabeth said in wonder, "That was what you hoped to be the last words you ever said to me?"
Darcy saw that she was looking at him in wonder from a foot away, so feeling very bold, he halved the distance between their lips. He got close enough to show intent and allow the lady to show her own desires by closing the gap of her own volition, yet far enough to allow easy escape, should that be her choice.
Then he gave her a very gentle smile.
"Certainly, not! You cannot seriously believe that I would give up at the first obstacle."
~~Finis~~