When Elizabeth made it back to the house, she found the Gardiner's hire coach parked in front. The coachman tugged the brim of his hat at her and she nodded at him.
She stood in front of the door and paused for a moment. She took a breath, counted to three, let out the breath and opened the door. Head high, she advanced to meet her fate.
Inside, instead of the expected pandemonium, there was – silence. The stillness was more ominous than had there been a mob baying for her head.
She went down the hall to her father's book room and knocked on the door.
"Enter."
Elizabeth opened the door and stepped in. Her father gestured to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. She noticed that her new travelling dress and pelisse, the ones she was meant to be wearing when she left Longbourn after the wedding breakfast, were draped over the back of the other chair. On the seat was the matching bonnet and reticule; on the floor were her new half boots. She tilted her head at her father.
"Your Aunt Gardiner will help you to change after our meeting."
"Here?"
"There will be no point in going upstairs after we are finished here."
"After I've changed, then what?"
"You will go to town with the Gardiners. They will assist you in finding a position commensurate with your accomplishments."
"So, I'm to be a governess or a companion."
"Do not play the ingénue with me. It is your choice. You could have been the wife of a great and rich man; but no, you chose a life of genteel poverty." He squinted at her. "Or have you chosen to follow the drum? Is your penniless, but oh so charming, redcoat hiding in the shrubs outside, waiting to whisk you off to Greta Green?"
Elizabeth huffed. "If you mean Mr. Wickham, I can assure that I wish to have nothing to do with him" and then to forestall any questioning as to why her opinion about Mr. Wickham had changed so quickly, she said "you supported me in my refusal of Mr. Collins, why can't you support me in my refusal of Mr. Darcy?"
Mr. Bennet stared at her like he had never heard such a stupid question before, notwithstanding he had been married to Mrs. Bennet for the past twenty-four years. "You never accepted Mr. Collins' proposal. It was easy to support a refusal when there had been no acceptance." Mr. Bennet pointed at Elizabeth. "You accepted Mr. Darcy's proposal and not immediately; you consulted with me, and with your aunt and uncle Gardiner, you pondered on it, but in the end, you accepted his proposal. You clearly, and unequivocally, agreed to marry the man. You have had the past month, while the banns were being read, to change your mind. You could have written him a letter or even deigned to speak to him the four times he came to call on you. If you had thus refused him, in a civil and private way, you would still have been ruined but we might have been able to mitigate the damage. I would have been unhappy, but I still might have supported you." Mr. Bennet shook his head, in a slow and sad way. "But no, you waited until all the expenses had been incurred, all the preparations had been made, all our friends and family had gathered, and then refused Mr. Darcy in the most public and humiliating way, without regard to him, your family or even yourself. I cannot support a refusal rendered in such a cruel way. I cannot even imagine any justification you might have for doing so." He glared at her.
Elizabeth refused to be browbeaten by her father; she would not accept being chastised; she had done nothing wrong. Colour now high in her cheeks, she pointed her finger at her father and let fly.
"Mr. Darcy has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of …." Here Elizabeth came to a sudden stop, today Mr. Darcy had given hope back to Jane, she could not jinx that. She started again.
"Mr. Darcy has reduced Mr. Wickham to his present state of …" Again, Elizabeth stopped. What was she saying? After what that rogue had said to her today. She started to panic. What was a good reason for her refusal? She cast around. His character. Of course.
"Mr. Darcy is arrogant, conceited, and has a selfish disdain of the feelings of others. He is no gentleman."
Mr. Bennet slapped his hand on the desk and Elizabeth startled. "Enough!" He held up his finger. "To give you one example, one of many, but one that I think is truly demonstrative of how he has acted in the most gentleman-like manner, is how he treated your mother over the past month. He was solicitous of her nerves, diplomatic in steering her away from her more fanciful notions, and had wholly convinced her there no hedgerows in her future. Behaviour you would have noticed if you had not been indisposed with your monthlies every time he called." He sniffed. "Even at her angriest at me, your mother's monthlies never lasted a whole month."
Elizabeth's anger had not abated. Unfortunately, angry people are not always wise in what they say.
"Mr. Darcy said I was only tolerable and refused to dance with me at the assembly.
Mr. Bennet stared at Elizabeth; his mouth open. He leaned back in his chair. "You mean to say that all of this … " he waved his hand about "this Sturm und Drang is because Mr. Darcy pricked your pride? Vanity, your name is woman." He shook his head, swiveled his chair and looked out the window.
"It's frailty. 'Frailty, thy name is woman' is what Hamlet said" said Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet turned back to face her. "My version is more apropos. You know, I am starting to think that you were justified in your refusal." He held up his hand. "Not because you were right; more out of pity for Mr. Darcy. The ancient Greeks had a proverb: 'Camels never forget an injury.' And you are a camel, a stubborn, vindictive camel. If you had married Mr. Darcy, every time you had an argument, and all couples argue, every time that would be your ultimate trump card." He then spoke in a falsetto voice. "You said I was only tolerable and refused to dance with me. For the rest of his life the poor man would be hearing 'You said I was…"
"Please stop" said Elizabeth. "You've made your point. I've no good reason for refusing Mr. Darcy. What good reason do you have for saying I should have accepted him?"
He tilted his head at her. "You mean beside the fact he is a kind and rich gentleman who will take care of you, your mother and your sisters in a style and with a generosity beyond any of your and their wildest dreams? Is that not enough?"
"Not if there's no love."
"Love." Mr. Bennet snorted.
"Mama says you married for love."
Mr. Bennet snorted so hard that he started coughing. He poured himself a finger of brandy and sipped.
"Your mother and I married in a hot hasty haze of lust and infatuation. When that dissipated, we were at our leisure to repent. If you're looking for lust you should look to your tin soldier boy, he positively reeks of the stuff. You should be looking for …"
"I told you, he means nothing to me."
"Methinks the lady protests too much."
"That's not how it goes…"
"You know, in your own way, you are as pedantic as Mary. Now back to the point I was trying to make. Love is too amorphous a concept. You want love, Jane wants love, your mother wants love. I am sure Mr. Darcy wants love. And the meaning of every one of those loves is different. You should be looking for affection, it may not be as intense as lust but it will last longer and do you much more good. And, at the very least, I think you would find affection with Mr. Darcy, if you would give him something more than a dog's chance."
"But …"
"No buts. I can see from that look on your face that there is no point in arguing with you. You are intent on wallowing in your mire of self-righteousness. So be it." Mr. Bennet picked up his penknife and started twirling it in his fingers, looking at it like he had never seen it before. For the longest time he said nothing, but then he spoke.
"I have always been a selfish man. I want what I want, and what I want, I get. Lucky for Longbourn's finances my tastes are not extravagant. I am not a gambler, not a drunkard, not horse mad, nor house proud. I want my solitude, I want my books, I want my port, my pipe. And I have them. I care not for my wife, my daughters, my estate." He held up his hand. "Do not object, the proof is out there for all to see. The problems that are coming, the hedgerows that beckon your mother, are not my problem. Après moi, le deluge. I will be safe in my grave when the butcher's bill comes due. And pending then, should some trifle draw my awareness to the truth of your mother's worries, I have always been able to sip some port and ponder some Latin elegiac verse until the feeling went away."
"Then, last month, Mr. Darcy brought you home, a proposal in hand. And he volunteered, I did not ask, I did not demand, he volunteered – he volunteered to take care of you, your mother and your unmarried sisters, with such a generosity that is beyond my imagination. I thought then I had been saved; that when I came to be judged I might not be found so wanting, every thing having worked out in the end for the good." He shook his head. "But it is not to be. I find that my favourite daughter, the heir of my intellect and love of books, is also heir to my selfishness." He sighed. "I do not begrudge your failure to embrace martyrdom for the sake of your family. I am no better. I hope you find a position that allows you to indulge yourself as I have indulged myself."
Mr. Bennet opened the top drawer in his desk and took out a billfold. He counted out six five-pound notes and handed them to Elizabeth. "Do not keep these all in your reticule, it is too easily stolen. Keep them somewhere where you can access them in a hurry if you have to. Maybe they can be sewn into the lining of your pelisse or hidden somewhere in your shoes. Be careful, governesses and companions, especially young pretty ones, are often preyed on by the men in a house. If you even feel the tiniest bit threatened use these funds to flee to the Gardiners."
"Can't I come home, Papa?"
"Only if you do so as Mrs. Darcy."
"That's impossible now."
"Yes, that's the rub." She started to correct him and he put his hand up to stop her. They both chuckled; quiet, weak chuckles.
"I am going to miss our discussions. If Mr. Bingley ever returns to carry off Jane there will be no sense left in this house." Mr. Bennet stood and blinked his eyes, trying to dislodge the dust that seemed to have lodged there. He walked around his desk and squeezed Elizabeth on her left shoulder. "I will send in your Aunt Gardiner to help you change." He opened the door.
Elizabeth stood and turned to him. "Can't I say my good-byes?"
Mr. Bennet shook his head "If you must be gone, you best be gone quickly." He patted her on the shoulder. "God be with you, Lizzy."
Mr. Bennet turned away from Elizabeth and left the book room, closing the door behind him.
