Sat, Dec 8, 1811 – Matlock House, London & Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Musical Accompaniment: Rent Take Me Or Leave Me
"Darcy, Bingley, come in gentlemen, come in."
Fitzwilliam Darcy and Charles Bingley stepped into Darcy's uncle's library and submitted their greetings.
"Uncle"
"My lord, thank you for having me."
The Earl chuckled, which shortly turned into a hacking cough, but eventually rallied to reply, "I am your uncle now, Mr. Bingley. How about if you call me 'Uncle' or 'Uncle Hough', when we are in private."
"It would be my privilege, sir. I would like it very much if you called me 'Bingley'."
"Of course. You are stepping in at a most opportune time, Son. It will be my pleasure. I suspect you and I are to see a lot of each other over the next year, yes?"
Bingley blinked in surprise, and the Earl continued.
"Come, come, young man. Let us not be awkward. You are stepping into a snake pit of my family's making, and I will be there to help you in any way I can. Just to be clear, I will not be directing you, or even advising you, per se. I will simply be available to discuss anything where I might help you, man to man. If nothing else, I may remember how some particular debacle came about, or have connections that can assist you. In the best case, maybe I can save you from repeating some of my stupider mistakes."
Darcy chuckled, and Bingley said, "I would very much appreciate it, Uncle."
The Earl nodded. "So, Bingley – how do you find my sister? Has she driven you insane yet?"
Bingley chuckled. "I take it you are not acquainted with my sisters, sir?"
"Cannot say that I am."
"Let us just say that I hardly noticed any difference at all when we added Lady Catherine to the mix."
The Earl threw his head back and laughed. It brought on another coughing fit, but he felt it was well worth the price.
He took a small sip of brandy, which may or may not have had a few drops of laudanum. "I had an amusing experience today."
Darcy said, "How so, Uncle?"
"I was going out to visit Harcourt. You know him Darcy, and I will introduce you, Bingley. He is worth knowing, as long as you know which half of what he says is complete nonsense, and which half is the wisest of proclamations."
"I shall look forward to it. Perhaps I should keep a coin handy?"
"As I was going to my carriage, some young woman came out of the park, walking at speed directly toward me and staring me in the eyes as if she meant to accost me right there in front of my own home."
Both men gave gasps of surprise, but they were more for form than anything else, since any gentleman of means was occasionally accosted by some sort of rabble.
Darcy asked, "What did she have to say?"
"No idea! She was just coming within hailing distance and I could see her opening her mouth to say something, when apparently her father caught up with her. He grabbed her about the waist, gave her a setdown that would make a drunken sailor blush, and dragged her back into the shrubbery."
All three men chuckled, as there were not all that many amusing anecdotes in their lives that particular week.
Bingley asked curiously. "What did this woman look like?"
"She was dressed as a lady, but not first circles. She had a very particular shade of brunette hair, quite lovely and somewhat distinctive. Not very tall, and otherwise unremarkable. She was wearing a muslin walking dress that had seen better days, and a man's overcoat. It was most peculiar."
"Interesting. Well, I suppose we shall never know."
"I suppose not. I was tempted to follow the pair just to find out, but by the time I got my wits about me and sent a footman to investigate, they were gone."
A knock on the door announced the butler bringing in a tea service, and the men spent the next quarter hour having tea and talking about sport and politics.
After some time, the Earl said, "Darcy – tell me about this woman of yours."
"She is not mine, Uncle."
"She soon will be, like it or not. What do you know?"
Darcy sighed. "In looks, I could borrow the description of your attempted assailant in the park. Not very tall, light of figure, hair as you described her. She seems quite unremarkable at first, but she seemed prettier after I had known her a while. She knew more about literature than any other woman I ever met and could argue philosophy or theology like a Cambridge man. She seemed to be flirting with me constantly, or I assume so since she was usually teasing and prodding about something. She would occasionally hew to an opinion she does not really possess. I actually kind of liked her before this debacle."
"Maybe you can like her again."
Darcy sighed. "If I could trust her, I suppose I could try, but how can I trust someone after they have taken away all my power of choice in the world. How can I trust someone after so thoroughly misjudging them the first time?"
Matlock chuckled. "Son, it is not as if you were setting the world on fire with your rush to marriage. Perhaps she did you a favor, driving you to something you would otherwise put off until it is too late. You will not live forever my boy, and it would be better for Pemberley to go to your son than Georgiana's second son or a distant cousin."
"Perhaps, but how do I start? I marry her in a fortnight on the twenty‑third, and I have to leave for my ship within the hour."
All three men stared at the ground, and finally, Bingley said, "Perhaps I could intercede on your behalf while you were gone."
Darcy growled. "Yes, that would work. She is already going to be put out by you supposedly abandoning her sister and getting married weeks later to another woman."
"Yes, I can see where that might be a problem. You think I might make it worse instead of better?"
"That seems likely."
They thought for a moment. "How about if you write her while you are away?"
Darcy thought a bit. "On the one hand, I am better at writing than talking, but …"
Both his companions stared at him, waiting patiently for him to finish.
Finally, he said, "... but, we have the issue of trust. I will not know if I can trust her until she demonstrates it, or until I can talk to her face to face and tell if she is lying or not. We could both make the most fantastical castles on paper, but then come face to face and watch them all crumble and blow away in the wind. It seems pointless."
Bingley said, "Perhaps you need a sign of some kind."
Darcy looked at him critically, and at length said, "Explain."
"You hold an entirely negative view of the lady, aside from the fact that you thought you liked her at one time. I can neither confirm nor deny your opinion, since I could just as well have been the sacrificial lamb. Is there something that could happen before you leave that could entice you to take a chance on writing – on giving her the benefit of the doubt?"
Darcy thought about it for some time. "Well …"
He thought some more, and finally said, "… if her family shows something even vaguely approaching proper decorum on the wedding day, then I may try. If they are abominable …"
Bingley said, "Say no more. I would have had a hard time believing either of the eldest two could be anything like their mother but considering how much the youngest two follow her lead, it may just be that the eldest two have learned to be more subtle. You may need to wean her off their influence for a few months and try to start over from scratch. "
"How do I do that?"
"No idea, old sport. Perhaps limit her correspondence without actually limiting it?"
Darcy thought. "If make her pay her own postage, then she can consider how badly she wants to write back and forth. It is less draconian than cutting her off entirely but should limit the quantity."
Matlock asked, "How can postage bother her? Were you so stingy with her pin money that a few farthings will matter?"
Darcy looked only slightly chagrinned. "I was not overly generous, no."
Matlock thought his nephew was being quite stupid but saw little profit in trying to talk sense to him. He resolved that he would visit Mrs. Darcy while his nephew was away and try to set things straight, but there was no point in telling Darcy about it. He would object that his uncle was being officious, which was entirely true, but beside the point.
In compromise, he said, "It is not the best idea I ever heard, or even in the top ten – but not the worst either. I honestly do not see how you can do anything except keep her out of trouble until you bring Richard back.
Darcy sighed. "That was my conclusion. But I will not give up entirely. Her family may surprise me! How hard can it be to maintain decorum for one day?"
"Miss Bennet, what is the meaning of this," Mr. Bennet nearly shouted at his recalcitrant daughter.
Elizabeth had no idea whether he meant the letter sitting open on his desk, or her presence in the room where she had been delivered, no doubt at some expense, by Mr. Baker.
"As to the letter, Mr. Bennet, it seems self‑explanatory enough. I intended it as my last communication, so it was as comprehensive as I could make it. I have nothing to add. If you mean my continued refusal to let you and Mr. Darcy dictate the rest of my life, the explanation is that I am no more enamored with the idea than I was a week ago."
Still with his ire up, Bennet said, "Sit down, daughter. This cannot go on. I will have your word that you will give up these childish notions of yours and do what is right."
"Right for who, sir?"
"Right for your family. Right for Mr. Darcy. Right for yourself if you would just quit being so blasted stubborn."
Elizabeth squeezed her fists together until she thought her palms might bleed. "No, sir. I have one last hope."
"Which is," her father asked with a sneer?
"Which is, sir …" she said, and then took a deep breath and said, "… you cannot actually make me take the vows. Women in England are given almost no power in anything at all, but we do have one choice in our lives. We can decline to be married, and neither the church nor the law will force the issue. No vows – no marriage."
Bennet had been torn between anger and amusement, but the amusement flew right out the window and he slammed his fist down on the desk.
"You are being ridiculous. Perhaps I cannot force you, but I do have means of persuasion."
Elizabeth stared at him and said, "I have thought of all of those. What are you to do? You can lock me in the cellar until the wedding, and nobody will say a word. You can beat me as much as you choose, so long as you do not kill me, but that is tough to do without being detected by the groom, and I suspect he would strongly object and march away himself. Imagine him bringing suit against you for delivering damaged goods. You can throw me out to starve in the hedgerows, but since I have tried to do that twice on my own, I do not see it as much of a threat. You can take away my dowry, but since it is a pittance and not due for twenty years anyway, I am not going to hold my breath waiting. What else do you have?"
By then, Elizabeth was once again standing in front of her father's desk, her blood boiling, practically spitting in his face, while her father tried to get a word in edgewise.
Finally, he sat down and said, "You forgot one thing, Elizabeth. I can threaten something you think is important."
"I cannot think of anything that I find that important."
Bennet took off his spectacles and cleaned them with a handkerchief. "Daughter, you have had your say. You have had your say, and had your say, and had your say and your say. You have said it with your words. You have said it with your feet. You have said it with your derision. You need not worry that you were too subtle. I got the message. However …"
And with that, he put his spectacles back on with a snap, leaned forward. "You do not want to take any responsibility for what happened. There is no need to repeat your objections. Like your youngest sister and in fact like yourself, would you at least admit that I am not stupid. You may or may not have thought you were flirting with that gentleman, but I would wager that five men out of ten who saw all of your interactions would interpret it that way."
Elizabeth gasped, and yelled, "FLIRTING! You are mad! Was I in in some way too subtle in voicing my disapprobation?"
Bennet slammed the desk with the flat of his hand. "'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' The bard had it right. Or perhaps you would prefer Congreve's 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Now, admittedly, they can just as easily apply to men as women, but you get the picture. Darcy probably does think you were flirting with him, and I am not at all uncertain myself."
Elizabeth growled menacingly. "My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! Still, your ignorant assessment of my actions does not change the material fact that I can and will refuse to marry him."
Bennet sighed. "Well then, Miss Elizabeth, let me tell you how it will be. I will not live forever, so someone will be married from Longbourn within the month. If you do not marry Darcy, I will of course throw you out of the house without a farthing, which is nowhere near as diverting as you think it might be. Your aunt and uncle will not help you, since you will be simply reaping what you have sown. Then I will betroth one of my more compliant daughters, which at this point, amounts to any of them, to Collins! I think Jane might make an adequate Mrs. Collins!"
Elizabeth gasped in horror. "You would not!"
"Why not? Right or wrong you believed that I might do the same to you, and if you think I am bluffing about getting my daughters married and settled, the past fortnight should have taught you different. What makes you think Jane is safe? Your own words in this letter here suggest it as an acceptable solution."
Elizabeth just stared in horror. She might be able to handle Mr. Collins and make a marginally adequate husband of him. Charlotte Lucas definitely could. She could not think of anyone else who would, and Jane would be singularly unable. She simply did not have the strength of character. No matter how much Elizabeth might despise her sister right at that moment, she was not quite willing to consign Jane to an even worse fate than the one she was trying to escape. Mary was no better, as she was actively frightened of the man. Kitty and Lydia were far too young and silly to have their lives ruined.
She said, "And if I wed Mr. Darcy?"
"As Mrs. Darcy, you would have some ability to help your sisters. Your marriage contract, as stingy as it is, does have provision for your mother and sisters. They would not live well, but they would not have to scrape by on your mother's portion. Also, being the sisters of Mrs. Darcy will give your sisters some boosted social status, which might help them find husbands. Do not worry, I will not ask you to actively help, nor will I let your mother browbeat you. Just the name will be sufficient."
Elizabeth stared at him. "So, you want my word that I will marry Mr. Darcy."
"Not just that, daughter. I would also have your word that you will try to make a go of the marriage. I can assure you from experience that a bad marriage is not something to aspire to. You and Darcy are more alike than you think. For certain, he is a prideful, arrogant, stubborn, pig‑headed man who thinks much too highly of himself and looks down on everyone not of his circle – but I have seen worse men tamed by the right wife, and you have your own stubborn streak. You can do it if you put in some effort."
"And why, exactly, would I put in the effort. Why not have a marriage of convenience and mutual antagonism like yours, where he goes his way and I go mine except for the occasional meeting necessary to birth an heir."
Bennet stared at the floor. "For your own benefit, Elizabeth. I realize we are not at all close now, and likely never will be again. I realize I may not have been a very good father, but I would prefer to see my mistakes end with this generation. You can do better, but only if you will let go of your own pride and moderate your own stubborn streak. I truly think if you scratch the surface of your Mr. Darcy, you will find oak."
Elizabeth thought about it for several minutes. "I think I truly hate you, Father."
He nodded philosophically. "If that is the price to be paid, I will bear it. I still hold out hope that if you will just relent a little bit, that you could have a good marriage – perhaps even a great one. I am afraid though, that the task will be upon you, and you alone. Mr. Darcy is unlikely to be the first to bend."
"So, you expect me to not only marry him, but then swallow my pride and …"
"Yes, swallow your pride and do what it takes to make you happy. Darkest before the dawn, and that sort of thing."
Elizabeth thought for several more minutes. "I suppose you win! As you predicted, I will not send my sisters to suffer in my place. I will offer one bargain that is non‑negotiable. I will stand up with the man, and I will say the vows. Before that, if you want to give me a trousseau, you are to let Aunt Gardiner purchase it with no interference from my mother, not even an opinion or even her presence. I will make my wedding dress myself from my ballgown. I have my own ideas about my appearance in this debacle. And then, after –"
Bennet looked at her carefully, and asked, "– after?"
Elizabeth blew out a big breath. "After that, I will be a dutiful, polite, and obedient wife, bending on every issue and following every directive to the letter. However, I will give him six months. If during that time he says or does something genuinely kind, just one thing, verbally or in writing, then I will do my best to get over my prejudice and make either a contented life, or at least not miserable. If, after six months, I have not heard a single kind word, I will do whatever I must to make my life bearable."
"That does not sound like that much of a challenge to me. I accept your bargain."
With that, Elizabeth left the room without another word, took the sewing basket, and went to her own room, to begin the improvements for her ball gown, soon to be wedding dress.
