The Question of Consent

By DJ Clawson

Sequel to "A Bit of Advice"

Author's Note: For those bothered by the name of the Darcy son, realize that it's merely the British spelling of "Jeffrey," which is the way it's pronounced.

Chapter 3 – Mr. Bennet's Grand Plan

All things considered, the Bennet train that arrived at Kirkland was rather small. It included only Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, and Kitty, whose theoretical engagement to a Brighton officer had been negated by his being assigned to France, at which point Mrs. Bennet proclaimed a frustration with this complicated business of marrying officers, who were always going to and fro, and perhaps it was better to marry a stable, civilian Englishmen.

"I have suspicions of my wife," Mr. Bennet wrote to Elizabeth afterwards, "that with Mary gone to study at the Continent, she is feeling a bit lonely and is not in such a rush to marry off the only other person in the house capable of raising the ruckus to make Longbourn seem normal." His own sentiments he did not include in the letter.

Their arrival date had been continually put off by the bad weather as fall became winter, but they did eventually make it, carrying many letters from Mary meant for her sisters. Mailing from the Continent was particularly expensive and she had done it in large packages instead, all too Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet brought what seemed to be another trunk of baby clothes, most of these obviously meant for her two Derbyshire grandchildren. (The garments meant for Lydia's daughter had to be mailed to Newcastle)

Any reservations Mrs. Bennet had for her eldest daughter moving so far away from home when Netherfield was a decent place were put out of her mind when she saw the newly-renovated Kirkland. "Is it not lovely, Mr. Bennet?" she said as they came inside. He assumed the question was rhetorical and did not answer.

Elizabeth greeted them in the hallway, and was rushed by Kitty, then properly hugged her father and mother. "Jane is in the sitting room."

"Oh dear! Why is she not in her chambers?" Mrs. Bennet said.

"Mama, where she chooses to spend her time in her own house is surely her business!"

"Besides," said Mr. Bennet, "I have sat in many cushioned chairs in my lifetime and have found them all to do relatively the same job."

"Mr. Bingley should insist on it!" Mrs. Bennet said.

"Mr. Bingley is in Town," Elizabeth reminded her mother, trying to keep her voice polite. "Miss Bingley is to be engaged and has asked for his consent."

"And she could not come here? With my poor Jane in confinement! The nerve of that woman ... but Jane! I must see her at once!"

Maybe it was age, or experience, or the fact that she was married now and in a different social position, but Elizabeth found her mother not quite so trying, and was more than willing to show her to the sitting room. Or maybe it was her mother, who did not seem so shrill, who was not actually so shrill now that the time of extreme desperation of the Bennet family was over?

But there was enough to deal with. Jane was in her armchair, wrapped in a shawl (she had insisted on it, somewhat embarrassed of her girth), busying herself with some embroidery when her family entered. This situation had been carefully constructed by both sisters. Normally she would been on the couch and have Georgie by her side and Geoffrey would be crawling around, but the proper place for two toddlers was in their nursery, under the watchful eye of Nurse, and it was decided that for the sake of their mother's nerves, some pretense of propriety must be preserved. Jane did not rise to greet them, again a planned event, because she and Elizabeth joked earlier that surely Mrs. Bennet would pass out if she did. "Mama!"

"Oh, Jane!"

They embraced what they could, and Jane put aside her needles to receive a kiss from an overexcited Kitty and then her father, who looked a bit horrified at his daughter's size, but did his best to hide it as he seated himself in a proper chair some distance away so the women could chatter. "Please bring the children," Jane told her lady-maid, who curtseyed and disappeared as if this was a completly normal occurrence.

"I must know everything of Mary," Jane insisted. "And of course, all the doings in Hertfordshire."

"And we must know of this business of Miss Bingley, if there is going to be another wedding!"

"Perhaps not," Elizabeth said too quietly for her mother to hear, but she was sitting close enough to her father for him to raise his eyebrows, and she returned this gesture with a very obvious 'I will tell you later' glance.

"And where is Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet said. "This is the first time I can recall in a long time he is not hovering about you. Miss Darcy must have some suitor that he is chasing down with a blade for him to be absent from your side."

"He is also in Town," she said between giggles. "On business. But it will bore poor Mama to death, so perhaps we should speak of it later."

"I see," he said simply, and was quickly distracted by the arrival of his grandchildren. Georgiana Bingley was handed to her grandmother at Jane's insistence, and her new handler quickly made every attempt at combing back that Bingley hair that stood up like a flame, with no success. Geoffrey Darcy was brought to his grandfather, and Mr. Bennet was shyly beaming as he took the toddler into his arms.

"Baa!" said Geoffrey, and being the lively child he was, it was not clear whether he was trying to escape the grasp or merely find a preferred position.

"No, no, Grandpa. Can you say 'Grandpapa?'"

Geoffrey mumbled incoherently.

"'Grandpapa.'" This seemed to bring Mr. Bennet no end of amusement. "Okay, how about her? Surely you recognize your mother. Can you say 'Mama'?"

"Don't tease him," Elizabeth said.

But Geoffrey would not be quiet or still. He flailed at his mother, who offered her hand, and he grasped her pinky with his small hand and held it tightly. "Yeff!"

Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror. "Oh no!"

"Oh no?" Mr. Bennet said. "I do believe the child has said his name. Or tried."

"But Darcy is not here. Oh, papa, we cannot tell him his son said his first word while he was out preventing another marriage!"

"Well, then we shall have to – What?"

"Yeff!" Geoffrey repeated, apparently delighted at his mother's look of shock. "Yeff. Bah. Yeff!"

"Geoffrey," Elizabeth said, half-serious. "You will cry and crawl all you like, but you will hold that in until Papa gets home. Do you understand?"

"I daresay he doesn't," Mr. Bennet said. "Now – perhaps we should take my grandson somewhere else before he further incriminates himself in front of witnesses, and you will tell me all about Darcy's current marriage-related schemes."

They were actually able to make an easy escape into the parlor, what with the women fawning over the forcibly idle Jane and her daughter. Elizabeth called for tea as she took Geoffrey into her own arms, and faced her father's inquiries. When the servants had left, she spilled all of the details, which was basically a summary of the entire visit of Bingley and Darcy, brief as it had been. "I've not heard from them since, but as it's only been a day, there may not be news. Odd, is it not?"

"Odd, indeed." Mr. Bennet frowned his thinking frown. "Drawing from my own experience in talking people out of marriages – "

"Papa – "

"I still am inclined to say, with no informed prospective whatsoever on this matter, that surely if Miss Bingley has found someone suitable, than he must be suitable. But then again, if Charles Bingley has found some reason to disapprove – "

" – which he hasn't – "

"Yes. Stranger and stranger. I would say, either he has some brotherly instinct or he is simply unwilling to let her go. Though, the later does not seem likely, knowing what I do of his general disposition. Thinking of it, it was quite insightful of him to go to Mr. Darcy on the matter. To be frank, Elizabeth, if any man is good at finding fault in people, it is your husband."

"I am not insulted," she said with a smile.

"And you say this suitor – he is Scottish nobility?"

"An earl. But with a new fortune, made in Australia. His own estate is apparently in disrepair."

"Well, I am also somewhat an expert in old estates being in disrepair," Mr. Bennet said in all humor, "and I cannot fault him on that. It is a curious matter, though. So your husband headed off to Town – "

"He was more than willing to take me," she quickly defended, "but he was correct in his assumption that I would not leave Jane alone."

"But now that she is not alone – "

"I cannot think of a reason to join him. I barely know Town; I do not know what help I would be," she said honestly.

Mr. Bennet took his tea and went into his thinking posture. There he was for some minutes, and Elizabeth was busied watching Geoffrey, who she had set down on the floor and was busy making his way about the expensive carpet.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Bennet announced, "I have never been to the north."

"Never?" This came as no surprise. Her father was not a great traveler, and spoke almost nothing of his trip to the Continent when he was a young man, except to say it included only the major parts of France. Despite his love of appearing at Pemberley, she was quite sure he did not enjoy the journey there one bit.

"Yes, I suppose I should see it once before my death, and if your mother is correct, I will surely drop any day now. We must go at once then. At least to the lowlands." He continued before Elizabeth could object, "It is not terribly far from here, I understand. A day or two to the border, perhaps less if we did not stop at the major sites to admire the grand beauty of the English countryside. Though of course your mother would have no interest, nor would Kitty, and they would be of great comfort to Jane in her time of need, or at least, keep her utterly distracted. She might not even notice we were gone."

"The two of us?"

"Well, if we take my grandson, he might come home with not only his first words but a Scottish accent. And then the Master of Pemberley would be most displeased on both accounts," he said.

"Papa, be serious. We have no reason to go to whatever barony this earl controls, nor do we know its location, only that it is in the lowlands."

"You said he is Lord James Kincaid? Then surely, there can only be so many earls named Kincaid living in the lowlands, and if my geography is right, the lowlands are not very large at all. I'm sure the information we need would be quite easy to acquire." He stood up. "Though, if you would prefer to stay back with the women – "

"Now you are just making fun," she said. "And what explanation should we give for this?"

"Give whatever explanation you like; Mr. Bingley is so accommodating that we could take six carriages with us and he would not be the least perturbed, and if this is to be a thing to make Mr. Darcy fall so horribly out of love with you, I would be quite surprised."

"But Jane – "

He took her hands. "Jane is quite far away and we will not be more than a few day's journey at the worst. And I would place my remaining fortune on a bet that she will not put up any objection to you getting some fresh air. But if I think, if we are to do this, then time is of the essence."

She could not imagine it. Actually, she could imagine it, but it still seemed like such a wild endeavor –

"Mr. Bennet!" came Mrs. Bennet's usual shrill.

"Also of the essence is a way to explain this to your mother," Mr. Bennet said. "You'd best think of something while I handle whatever crisis she has imagined now. You were always the quick thinker, Lizzy. I have no doubt you'll have the whole plan by the time I return."

He was quite right in his estimation, and as soon as the carriage was ready and Geoffrey set back for his nap (and another harsh word about talking), Mr. Bennet and his second eldest daughter were on the muddy roads of Derbyshire, headed north.

There were many reasons why Mr. Darcy liked to fence. It was one of the few athletic endeavors he truly enjoyed beyond walking, not because he was a lazy man, but because he had no great love of killing birds or other animals, archery seemed entirely medieval, and there were few other sports which a man of leisure could be expected to take part in and not be considered an uncouth ruffian. He also liked it because he was quite good at it, or so he fancied himself. Perhaps this love had blossomed the first time he bested George Wickham at eleven years old. It was a time when a year was a marked difference between boys, and Wickham had already had a growth spurt while Darcy was still "a boy" in appearance, and so he took great relish in his first successful duel against him. It was at point that Wickham gave up the sport entirely, or at least, gave it up in Darcy's presence.

And then there was Cambridge, where it was a way to arguably be "social" without actually having to chat much. He considered talking during a match unprofessional, as did most of his peers, and by his second term he had invented multiple excuses to escape from the post-match drinking bouts. He kept his athletic figure (which at times was more of a flaw than a boon, especially when being at balls), and he could even wrote home that he had made "friends" – which delighted his father to no end, he imagined.

Though he was never captain, never became an international competitor, and probably would never reach that skill, he kept it up over the years, at fencing clubs and with his private trainer at Pemberley. During the period between his proposal at Rosings and his return to Hertfordshire, he had nearly worn the poor man out.

His wife, of course, had her own explanation for all of this, one he did care to think of. He made every attempt to change the subject when she brought it up, but she had the wit to make such comments in bed, where he was entirely at her conversational mercy and merely waited it out, usually with a pillow over his head.

The final reason (if he counted Elizabeth's) for his love of the sport was that it was, in his estimation, the best way for him to get the measure of a man. There was something about the intimacy of swordplay – an expression he did not use around his wife, lest it give her further ideas – that brought out the nature of a man. He knew he was exposing himself, in fact, as a man of great strength and determination, but also of honor. He never cheated, or not intentionally and to his knowledge, and he never resorted to the dirtier tricks of swordplay that were somehow within club rules. Even as a fighter he was Mr. Darcy, of Pemberley and Derbyshire, and showing anything more or less would be an assault on his general character. He did not know if other fences shared his beliefs, but he did not doubt that a few philosophers among them did.

There were numerous reasons why he had never fenced Bingley. The first, and most obvious, was that Bingley had only minimal instruction and there was no way Darcy could properly lower his skill level to make the match even fun without making it obvious. The second was that Bingley absolutely refused and looked terrified at the prospect, the one time it was brought up over a meal in Cambridge. The third, and most complex, was that he had no desire to fence Bingley, because he knew Bingley. Charles Bingley was a man whose character was generally obvious to everyone, and the last bit of it, the bit that was so inner to him that he was hardly aware of it, even Darcy knew just by being his acquaintance. In other words, he could get the measure of the man, full and complete, from a few conversations. Bingley was kind, generous, outgoing, and good on every level. He was so determined to see the good in everyone and being so agreeable that he willingly suffered the social consequences of occasionally looking like a dunderhead, but Darcy was convinced that he was on some level aware of what he was doing.

Bingley was not stupid; in that unspoken estimation, Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were wrong, and it was one of the reasons that Darcy disliked them both so. He was actually quite intelligent. What little aspect of the Bingley family trade he did take part in, he was quite good at in terms of numbers, and in Darcy's estimation, relied a little too much on his stewards and servants, but social propriety kept him from taking a real interest in the origins of his fortunes and he knew it. It was, in fact, in academics that Darcy had truly come to know him. Though Darcy was a senior and Bingley in his first year at Cambridge, they both fulfilled their Latin requirement at the same time, Darcy having put it off for as long as possible, and they became friends through being study partners, which was most advantageous to Darcy, for it seemed that Bingley was quite skilled in languages and by the end of the semester was practically his tutor.

So, the one proposal for a match between them was quickly and eagerly denied by Bingley, and Darcy pressed no further.

But Bingley was not the matter at hand. Instead it was this Lord Kincaid, Earl of shire, who was enough of a fencer to have a visitor's pass at the exclusive London Fencing Club, to which Darcy paid membership dues whether he was there more than once a year or not just to keep his membership.

The duel was to be in the early afternoon, after Darcy had finished his supposed business meeting. Of course he had nothing of the sort, with his steward at Pemberley, but he was reluctant to be seen strolling the streets of London when he was supposed to be here on most urgent matters, so he stayed inside his considerable townhouse. Unfortunately for him, Georgiana did not depart quickly enough and she immediately noticed his hanging about. She found him in the parlor, reading a book Elizabeth had recommended from his own library.

"Brother – "

As she went into her inquiries, he realized he could hide it no longer without a string of lies that he had no desire to burden his sister with. Clearly, if they were to be in the same house during this conspiracy, she was at least to know of it. "I must confess, I am not hear on the type of business that would require a meeting with a steward."

"Oh." She frowned. "Darcy, you're keeping something from me."

"And I that easy to read?"

"To most people, you are enigma. But to me, yes, you are easy to read. And to my sister, you are an open book, I think."

He smiled at the memory of Elizabeth. "You have taken on some of her wit, I see."

"So you are saying I have no wits of my own?"

"All right," he said, and motioned to the servant for tea. "She is definitely a bad influence on you." When the servant was gone, he motioned for his sister to join him and explained the whole matter to her, to the best of his abilities.

"How strange," Georgiana replied to all of this. "Everyone likes him. Except you and Mr. Bingley, it seems. But you have no reason for it."

"Call it a brotherly instinct."

"I can speak for your brotherly instincts," she said, without having to elaborate further, and it was nice to see that even a passing, obscure reference to the Wickham incident did not only not bring her to tears but could be instigated by her. "So how do you will think you will go about this investigation? Though, I do not know much on the matters of business."

"I do, but not business abroad, beyond our holdings in the East India Company. I confess to knowing next to nothing about Australia. Bingley knows more than me, and his guess is as good as mine."

She bit her lip, then said, "I should remind you, brother, that you now have relatives in trade."

The Gardiners! Of course! And they were right here in Town! "Georgiana, I am in your debt. Would you care to join me on a call to the Gardiners?"

"I would love to." She put a finger to her lips. "And yes, I know, not a word of this to anyone. You do not have to say it."

"Clearly your intelligence surpasses my own," he said, and kissed her gratefully on the cheek before rising. "Now I must prepare for my actual business in Town. Thank you, Georgiana."

"Only promise me to keep me part of all of your exciting conspiracies, as this is the most exciting thing to happen to me in months." She added with dramatic gravity. "I mean, terrible as it is."

He could not help but chuckle a bit. "Yes, terrible indeed."

...Next Chapter – The Very Friendly Duel