Chapter 3
She was still sat on the floor, studying the grain in the wall in a vain attempt to control her thoughts, when Jane entered the room. She hurried to her sister's side, but did not join Elizabeth on the floor, she instead grasped Elizabeth's hands and pulled her to her feet. "Mama is on her way Lizzy, we must act normally if she decides to come in." She moved away to retrieve Elizabeth's dressing gown from where Charlotte had dropped it, "With any luck she will look in on Lydia, who is already asleep, and retire directly." In a movement nearly identical to Charlotte's only minutes before, she turned, dressing gown in hand and spotted the state of Elizabeth's chemise. But Jane's frozen stare, marred only by the tightening of her lips as she suppressed tears, was utter contrast to Charlotte's forthright statements, and Elizabeth felt only grateful relief. As much as she valued Charlotte's straightforward intelligence, in this moment she desired only her sister's heartfelt compassion.
Jane had however adopted some of Elizabeth's liveliness, and she broke from her frozen trance, draping the dressing gown around Elizabeth. "I will call Betsey," Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Jane continued with a tone of reassurance, "to light a fire. We should burn your chemise. Mama will wonder at its disappearance, but that cannot be helped." Jane tugged her over to sit on the corner stool, her back thankfully to the mirror; Elizabeth did not think she could bear look into her own eyes at present. She feared that the lost helplessness swirling through her would be reflected, and she would drown in her own gaze.
They both paused to listen to Mrs. Bennet bustle up the stairs, still exclaiming over the dances of her wonderful eldest daughter, and her own fatigue. Both of her daughters breathed a sigh of relief when she passed their door without knocking. Jane stepped into the hallway briefly, intercepting Betsey, who trailed her mistress at a safe distance.
Once Betsey had departed, a young fire blazing in the grate, with unspoken curiosity at the ladies declination of assistance, Jane again turned her attention to Elizabeth. With a practicality that Elizabeth had not known her sister possessed, Jane helped her remove her chemise and dressed her in a nightgown. Jane seemed to instinctively understand that Elizabeth, not normally reserved with her sister, would not wish to be exposed for a minute longer than necessary. She again covered Elizabeth in her dressing gown, before retrieving the ruined garment. She held it aloft, examining the stains more critically than Elizabeth was comfortable with, as she moved towards the hearth. As she made to throw the garment into the flame, a knock sounded at the door, followed by their father's voice.
"May I enter? Elizabeth, I would speak with you." Jane hurriedly folded the chemise, in a vain attempt to hide the stains, before opening the door. Their father stood on the threshold, his face somber, and bearing all his years in the lines around his eyes. "Ah Jane, good, I was going to request your presence. Though you are still innocent, Lizzy will have need of your strength, and you should know what she has suffered if you are to assist her." Mr. Bennet moved into the room, gesturing for Jane to close the door behind him, and approached Elizabeth. He gently placed a hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. He observed her minutely for a few moments before bestowing a gentle kiss upon her brow, then retreated to lean against the mantle.
He began in a slow voice that frightened Elizabeth in its intensity, "I'm sure you realize that some action to protect your and your sisters' reputations must be taken." Elizabeth began to shake her head at this pronouncement.
"No, Papa please," her voice almost childlike as she pleaded with him. "You gave me your word. You said—" He held up a hand to forestall her protest.
"I will abide by my promise. I will not require you to marry your attacker, even if he should be found. I could no more bear the thought of you in such misery than you can my dear. Alas, we cannot do nothing. I believe the measures we have taken toward security will hold until the morrow, but then your sister will awaken and seek her mother's arms for comfort. We must have a solution before that occurs." He paused there to draw a deep breath, face and voice softening. "Would that I could tuck you away in my library and hide you from the world, but that will never do.
"Now, I need to hear the events that occurred after you instructed Lydia to run for aide, and before Mr. Darcy arrived. This knowledge will inform us as to the speed with which we must act. Especially in consideration of your attacker's true nature."
It was a mark of Elizabeth's state of mind that she disregarded his last statement. She dropped her gaze to her hands, unable to bear her father's gaze as she recounted the tale. Jane kneeled at her side and grasped her hands again in a silent display of warm support. Her voice adopted an uncharacteristic tremor as she described the details of Wickham's actions, and the specific hurts against her. As she spoke, he listened without comment, refusing to pain her further with requests for greater than the necessary transparency, and his eyes rested on her chemise resting in Jane's lap. He quietly retrieved it and opened the folds enough to see the tears before closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. A new tension settled upon him as he allowed silence to envelope the room once Elizabeth's words faded into tears.
"Thank you, Lizzy." He murmured, controlled emotion dictating his tone. "I will not force you into this conversation further. I have much to consider and I shall not burden you with my musings until the ideas have coalesced. I expect that your mother will be slow to rise, given the lateness of the hour. If you are not about by your usual time, I shall inform Betsey to rouse you." He stepped forward, pausing to drop the chemise into the crackling fire, and again bestowed a kiss upon her head. "Rest now, child, if you are able." He then departed the room, and headed not to his bedchamber, but down the stairs to his study.
Jane again tugged a now numb Elizabeth to her feet. "Come to bed now Lizzy." She extinguished the candles, and the two sisters lay with Elizabeth curled into Jane's chest. The recounting of her ordeal had opened to floodgates that she had just barely been managing to hold shut on her memories, and Elizabeth laid awake, sharing her pain with Jane's grief long into the early morning hours.
Dawn found Elizabeth waking to the chorus of birds, not feeling as if what her senses showed her was truly reality. There was no moment of sudden remembrance, as she had never forgotten, even in sleep, the awful truth of the previous day. But though the few hours sleep did not grant her that reprieve, it did grant her better rein over her emotions, and she was able to more rationally contemplate her immediate prospects. That they were grim was undeniable, but she could now see sense where only panic had existed before at Charlotte's words.
A quarter hour later found her tucked into the large chair in her father's study, a throw wrapped around her legs, and a cup of tea cradled in her hands. The familiarity going so small way to temporarily alleviate the deep-set ache resonating throughout her frame. Mr. Bennet observed his daughter as she watched ripples travel across the surface of her tea. She was calmer in the daylight, more aware of her plight, and more able to deal with its consequences. He was heartbroken that this had befallen her, and while he never would have wished such a fate on any young woman, seeing her so dim in comparison to her usual brilliance made it even harder for him to bear. He dreaded the communication he must now make, and wished to postpone it with this silence for as long as possible.
Elizabeth was not content to wait however, and plied him with a question he had never expected to answer. "Why would the specifics of the compromise necessitate an even speedier resolution? I had thought finding a solution with as much haste as possible was necessary."
Mr. Bennet closed his eyes briefly in resignation. He forced the words to pass his lips, bluntness was the formation the sentence would assume. "If there is a risk of you being with child." A small measure of his confidence in her mental fortitude was restored by the lack of surprise elicited by this answer. Elizabeth was an intelligent woman, and Mr. Bennet prided himself on the value of her education in logic and rationality. While as a woman, she had not been educated in the finer details of farming or animal husbandry, she had grown up on a country estate and took great interest in its running. He understood her question to be a request for confirmation of what she already suspected.
When she glanced up at him with only sorrow in her eyes before taking a calming sip of tea, it gave him heart that she would tolerate his suggested course. "Regardless, your residence in the neighborhood must end, and short of banishing you to Scotland, a swift marriage could be achieved."
Elizabeth feared she understood him too well, and her otherwise flat tone held a hint of disgust. "If your plan is to place my fate in the hands cousin Collins, I think I should prefer banishment." She was unprepared for his response, as her statement had not been intended to inspire hilarity.
Mr. Bennet let out a full chuckle, allowing the first grin since the previous day to light his features. Elizabeth was by parts relieved at the humor he found in her suggestion, and annoyed that he found enjoyment in her predicament. His merriment soon abated however, and he was able to answer her with some modicum of seriousness.
"My dear, I don't believe there exists a man so ill matched to you as our cousin. I defy even Wickham that post, for he at least exhibits some liveliness of mind, no matter the nefarious bent it takes." He paused then, seeming to regain some of his former somber composure. "I must ask though, your thoughts on the tales Wickham confided?"
"Tales is indeed an apt description. His portrayal of his own character was so contradictory to what he has now betrayed himself to be. I do not believe a single word was honest, I doubt even the smallest detail." She dropped her gaze once again to her now half drained cup. Fidgeting minutely with the cup, she slowly trailed an index finger along the rim. "I am dismayed by the extent of my ill judgment." She began to gnaw on her lower lip, a gesture he had not seen in her since her entrance into society.
"And what of the man he so disparaged? What transformation has your opinion of Mr. Darcy undergone?"
She took her time in answering him, weighing each word. "Mr. Darcy is…" In truth, she did not know what to make of the man. All she had thought she knew of him had been discredited. Adding to her confusion was the gentle concern he had shown her the night before. His every motion and utterance calculated to be non-threatening as was in his capacity, and his comforting gestures completely contradictory to the haughtiness she had come to expect from him. "He is not what I had previously thought him to be." She was unable to formulate further coherent statements on the subject, and unwilling to discuss the proud man
Mr. Bennet, however, was determined to pursue this line of inquiry. "I might suggest that you allow him a defense of his character the next opportunity you have to speak."
"I surely would, but this does not signify for I never again expect to meet him." With a deep sigh, she emptied her cup, but did not relinquish her grasp on the delicate china, using its presence as a shield from her father's penetrating gaze. "Please papa, let us return to more relevant subject. I wish to hear the elegant solution you have devised that rendered my previous suggestion so entertaining." She gingerly placed her cup on the side table before tucking the blanket more tightly across her lap. Her curled posture spoke of a resignation her father hoped to ameliorate.
"Indeed, strange as this may sound, your Mr. Darcy may be a solution, if not the solution."
"He is hardly my Mr. Darcy." Her reply was as sharp as her posture was rigid, a poor reflection of her father's repose.
"Not as of yet, though he desires to become so."
"I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Do you mean to sell me into his household staff?" her voice was filled with incredulity and confusion. The unconscious fidgeting her hands had begun in the absence of the cup, halted. Though this suggestion horrified Mr. Bennet in equal measure to how her earlier one had entertained him, he was glad to see some color on her cheeks, and fire in her eyes.
"Hardly Lizzy, you are a gentlewoman, and will remain such whilst I still breathe. No, my dear, Mr. Darcy has offered his hand in marriage. There I think I have surprised you now." The miniscule smirk upon his lips was mischievous. Elizabeth could only parrot his words as they were processed.
"Offered his hand…Mr. Darcy?" Her first reaction had been disgust. After several months of thinking naught but ill of him, she had trained herself to produce an immediate negative response to mention of the man. But, she cautioned herself from this course with the reminder of who had been her source for the rational behind her loathing. Without Wickham's testimony, she was left with only her own observation and interactions with his abominable pride and hurtful rudeness. And while these did nothing to portray him in a favorable light, they carried none of the bleakness of Wickham's web of lies.
"Lizzy, you have never uttered such a dull remark in your life. Do you comprehend the offer made to you?" His tone was still jovial, as though he was taking best advantage of this last opportunity for humor before hedonism lost all place in their lives. When she made no further response beyond a small nod he continued. "Though you know him as a proud and unpleasant fellow, I caution you from judging too harshly until you have spoken. And I do not mean the trading of barbed wit you so delight in. Only then choose your course."
Elizabeth could not move past her confusion over Mr. Darcy's motives, so she forcibly turned her thoughts to a pressing consideration. "While I do not grasp his possible motivations, they do not matter since he is not here to agree to such a course. You spoke earlier of the need for a resolution before Mama arises, time is running shorter every minute." Her urgency sobered some of his mirth as he sought to assure her of his earnestness.
"In fact, I invited him to return for a discussion this morning. I told him then as I shall tell you now, it will be your choice. If you choose to accept him, I will give my consent with all due haste, but not beforehand. I could not send you, my Lizzy, onto the path of misery when another may be found, but I believe this to one is not to be taken lightly. Now, I expect him to arrive soon, as it is nearing the normal breakfast hour. I give you leave to gather your thoughts as you see fit, but do not wander past the garden if walking is the method you choose." He stood and approached her, lifting her chin to drop a gentle kiss upon her brow as he had done the night before, before retrieving a book from the adjacent shelf. He settled himself once more behind his desk, and opened the volume, relishing the morning quiet still enveloping the house.
Elizabeth was all confusion. She found the idea of Mr. Darcy proposing to her of all people to be laughable, and yet was convinced it was true. Part of her longed to allow her feet to ramble unchecked across the countryside while her head assimilated the events of the past day, but the larger part desired the security and warmth of her father's library, not yet willing to venture alone between leafy bows again.
Elizabeth's opportunity to gather herself was not nearly as long as she had desired. She had remained curled in the chair with a fresh cup of tea to occupy her hands. Initial attempts to read the book previously left unfinished on the side table quickly proved futile. She turned her gaze out the window and allowed her thoughts to wander where her feet would not, contemplating in turn the options before her. Should she choose to reject Mr. Darcy, and no other willing bachelor could be swiftly found, banishment from Longbourn would await her. Though gentry, her family was obscure enough that it wouldn't be too challenging to find a new location where she was unknown. But she would likely be forced to take on employment to support herself. A position as a governess or lady's companion might be acceptable if she could ensure her past's secrecy. Should she be with child however, even that route would be closed to her.
The likelihood of quickly finding another eligible, and willing man was appallingly slim, even more so if she attempted to retain her current station. More worryingly, any other available men she was acquainted with were members of the local community, a locale she would do best to avoid in the future. While Mr. Darcy was appearing ever more her brightest path, she recoiled from the thought of connecting herself to a man she had spent so much time reviling, however wrongly.
Her reverie was interrupted far too soon by the sound of a guest entering the front hall. Her father closed his tome, and stood from the desk. As he made his way to receive their visitor, he fixed Elizabeth with a warm smile and asked her to await them in her current attitude. Though she could not make out the words uttered, she recognized the somber baritone belonging to Mr. Darcy. She quickly fixed a new cup of tea to occupy her shaking hands before the gentlemen could be heard moving in her direction.
Mr. Bennet allowed his guest to lead him into the room before pausing on the threshold. "As you are acquainted, I will forego the typical banter that precedes an engaged discussion. Though it would not traditionally behoove me to do so, I will allow you some opportunity for a private conversation. I feel my presence to be a hindrance to the formation of any understanding, and am in need of a discussion with your sister." Turning to Elizabeth directly, he said, "Ring if you have need or want of me," and departed. He left the door open to give some semblance of propriety to the assuredly improper situation.
Darcy aimed a deep slow bow in her direction and lowered himself into a chair at her gesture of invitation. Both sat in the unbearably awkward silence, engaged in avoiding each other's gaze and fidgeting with the object in their grasp. Darcy rotated his hat, shifting his hands along the brim while he gathered the courage to speak the statements he had prepared.
He cleared his throat, only able to lift his eyes onto her at the last moment before speech. "Miss Elizabeth," his voice was soft and even deeper than his normal baritone, and the utterance of her name caused her eyes to jump from her teacup to meet his. "Please allow me to first say how sorry I am for the hurts that have been inflicted against you. It is a suffering no person should be subjected to, especially one such as yourself, who is blameless in the development of such a fiend. He should have been exposed long ago, and it is to my shame that it was not done. I can only now hope to remediate some of the damage my neglect has caused."
The look in her face was incredulousness, as if she could not comprehend his words. "Sir, I must have mistaken you, but you are professing guilt. Are you motivated into action by a guilty conscious? Though I know not how that could be." Elizabeth could not understand this man. The haughtiness she had thought him in possession of would not have been moved by guilt. Though perhaps pride might, if he felt this in any way impugned on his honor. If this was his true character, she was less inclined to accept his charity.
He bowed his head again at the force of her accusation. "Though I am driven to rectify what is in my power to do so, it is not solely responsibility which moves me to ensure your personal happiness."
She repressed a scoff at his remark and seeming inability to elucidate further. "You speak of my happiness, but what reason do I have to believe that you shall treat me more kindly, nay make me happier, than would Wickham. He at least was charming, you have done naught but scorn me upon our every meeting."
This was enough to raise his eyes to her face. His posture stiffened to match that newfound intensity of her eyes as his tone lost its softness. "Scorn? Forgive me madam, if I have caused some offence in my attentions. I had believed only enjoyment was felt as your conversation was that greatest pleasure I have found in this county."
"Do you always treat your preferred conversation partners with derision when they are not in your immediate presence?" One of her eyebrows was arched up in challenge.
Darcy understood her inference and saw she lacked the playfulness previously exhibited. "Please do not place weight on the insipid commentary issued and inspired by Miss Bingley. It is out of deference for her brother, only, that I have adopted a strategy most effective at soothing her more vitriolic ill-humor. I pay her only enough mind to provide the minimum necessary response."
"You find the temptation of her brother reason enough to find her tolerable." Elizabeth uttered this statement in the flattest voice he had ever heard from her. Her face had become expressionless, eyes glinting dangerously.
Just as he opened his mouth to continue the same vein of his previous assurances, he froze. She could see the understanding wash over him as his jaw clicked shut. He dropped his gaze again to his hands as his deep voice issued forth softly. "I can only offer my most heartfelt apology for such a comment. Had I known you heard or even that you were the lady Bingley mentioned, I would have done so long ago. My mood was abominable that evening for reasons entirely unrelated to your presence, and my displeasure should have been aimed elsewhere."
Elizabeth was far from forgiving him, but her curiosity had been piqued. This she felt was the most opportune moment to glean an honest answer from the man. "What could have caused you to so thoughtlessly deliver such a slight?"
His voice was stronger now, as they had returned to a subject of conversation he had prepared to expound. "The explanation for my behavior that evening is in actuality a rather long tale. I have already decided you deserved possession of this knowledge, regardless the outcome of any understanding. I should warn you, this topic is likely to be distressing, for it centers on George Wickham, and I have no desire to pain you further." His gaze returned to hers and he regarded her with unusual openness. At her nod of assent, he set his hat on the desk at his side, and firmly clasped his hands. "As you may already be aware, George Wickham and I have known each other since our childhood…" As he settled into his story, Elizabeth could not help but notice the eloquence with which he spoke, and the rich, smooth baritone the words were sounded in. He had obviously rehearsed this speech, but it only served to increase his talent as an orator. He spoke in depth of his dealings with the man, from childhood, through university, and beyond, culminating in their most recent meeting in Ramsgate. "Georgiana was heartbroken at his defection, convinced as she was of their mutual affection. It was from this event, and in this state, I left her in trusted care in London, and came to assist Bingley as we had previously arranged. It was my desire to protect her from any recrimination that prevented me from exposing him, and left him free to inflict himself upon you."
Elizabeth could hear the deep-seated guilt ringing in his voice. That he believed her predicament to be his fault was obvious, just as his desire to atone for it added a new dimension to his character. But Elizabeth could not see past the explicit emotions, intent as she was on self-recrimination of her own. She had prided herself, perhaps even beyond the extent she had accused Darcy of, on her ability to measure a character with alacrity. That she had assumed false knowledge of both men so easily shook the foundations of her equanimity more than the attack itself ever would. Now faced with the evidence of her foolishness, she could not employ any of her previous wit.
"So you would marry me to assuage your conscious?" Her bald statement caused his eyes to jump in alarm. His response was more forceful than she had expected has he sought to deny her suppositions.
"No Miss Elizabeth, I do this because you are too good by far to suffer such a fate. I could not see you humbled so."
She regarded his new intensity, but her current distrust of her own instincts forced another scornful comment thru her lips. She desired to understand him and would force him to account for himself. "You sing praises now, and swear to your enjoyment for our dialogue, but I cannot ignore the evidence of my eyes. I have seen you measuring me, judging my worthiness while we were in company, and finding me wanting. Why would you now resign yourself to suffer my faults?"
She could see by his surprise further proof that she had indeed misjudged him terribly. "You have believed throughout the length of our acquaintance that I have found you lacking? That could not be further from the truth. If I could not tear my eyes from you, it was in admiration only. I have spent many hours assuring myself that I have never met another woman who is your equal. I do not consider marriage to you lightly. Though I do believe the blame for your fate and the responsibility for reparations should be laid at my door, I do not offer simply to assuage my guilt. I mean it very seriously when I ask if you would do me the honor of accepting my hand?"
Though he had acquitted himself well against her accusations thus far, she could not help needing one further point of understanding. "What of my family?"
Darcy's faith in his ability to understand was not so shaken as her own, and he immediately perceived the true nature of her question. "I give no weight to the opinions of society in general, and the ton in particular. I seek to please only those who can claim me in either family or close personal circles. As my wife, you would be chief among them. If you worry over their future comfort, there is no reason to do so." His voice turned gentle as he slipped forward out of his chair to kneel in front of her. His hat and her teacup had long been abandoned, and he reached out to grasp the fidgeting hands upon her knee.
"Miss Elizabeth, if you do me this honor, I will never harm you." His quiet assurances soothed the tiny knot of fear she carried with her. "I will never allow others to harm you, and do my utmost to prevent any hurts."
She stared at this foreboding man who gazed up at her so earnestly. She did not believe him to be kind, and any respect she held him in was garnered by this conversation alone. But she did not doubt that his indomitable pride would ensure the promises made, and he was, unquestionably, very rich.
"Yes." With that one word her heart fractured every so slightly more for the now abandoned notion of giving it to a man she loved. It was strange how misplaced that notion was, for that ability had already been denied to her the moment she stepped out of the ballroom, and she was only just feeling its lost.
"Yes," Darcy repeated, still kneeling before her. His eyes now filled with warmth as the first true smile she had ever seen them bear graced his features. The long moment was interrupted by a small cough and a subtle knock on the doorframe as her father reentered his study. Though he did not perhaps regard her with complete contentment, he held a sense of relief about his mien that reflected her own at the decision made.