This story keeps taking turns that I did not anticipate in laying out Darcy's backstory. The good news is that I've basically got the next chapter done; the bad news is that I'm still not sure when the narrative will resume with the present day. I am at the mercy of one Mr. Darcy, and as we well know he enjoys having the power to arrange things to suit himself.

Be warned, that Darcy shows himself to be quite the chauvinist here and that Darcy's cousin John is even more vile in this chapter than you may have expected. It troubles me a little how easily I conjured this up (what does that say about me?).


11. My Relations' Opinions

After Bingley left Pemberley, I had no further source of how the Bennets fared, for it was not I who had written to Sir William Lucas and I had no intention of beginning such a correspondence now. I had resigned myself that any further interference regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her family ought not to be attempted, for I seemed to have made things worse rather than better. Yet, the remarks of Lady Catherine during our very Easter dinner showed me that the effects of my actions in attempting to help were even worse than I had yet known.

At the table were Lady Catherine, Cousin Anne, Mrs. Jenkinson, the Collinses, and my cousins on the Earl's side: Richard and his elder brother John, the Baron of Hatchington. After the first remove (the first course had been filled almost entirely by Mr. Collins praising my aunt, her food, her wisdom and her beneficence without any remark, save during the prayer, about He who this day was truly about), Lady Catherine declared "The worthy will rise to a higher station in life, the sinful shall sink to their true depths of depravity. So it has been shown through the example of what has befallen the Bennets."

I had long been familiar with this philosophy of hers, which closely matched that of my father. Essentially she believed our position in life was proof all was well with us. I was not as sanguine that this must be so; believed our position in life could not fully absolve all our actions (although it seemed to work well enough for Prinny).

"What is this that you speak of, Madam?" my cousin Richard asked, the name "Bennet" apparently sparking his interest.

"Ah yes, Fitzwilliam, you have some acquaintance with that family in the person of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I ought not to have shown her any favor, but she seemed a prettish sort of woman, not too high bred, who knew what was due those of rank, although she had decided opinions for one so young, had not enough sense of her place in the world.

"I certainly questioned the good sense of her parents, however. Five daughters raised without a governess; all five out at once.

"It would have been good for Miss Bennet if she married when she had the chance. Mr. Collins paid her the highest compliment, trying to restore her family by offering for her hand."

Lady Catherine then turned toward Mrs. Collins, "Of course, following her refusal Mr. Collins chose well. Mrs. Collins has been a most dutiful parson's wife."

Lady Catherine nodded her agreement with her own pronouncement and then ruined the compliment given to Mrs. Collins by adding "I cannot fault Mr. Collins for wishing for someone of more beauty to grace his arm. Many a lesser man has been tempted by a pretty face combined with a womanly figure. Too she had youth in her favor, fine teeth and a delicate nose . . ."

I detected a faint pinking of Mrs. Collins's face, shared in her mortification. While it was certainly true that she had not the beauty of the Bennet sisters, it was not kind to speak of it before her, to praise such features that she lacked or were imperfectly formed in her, certainly not. It was not well done at all.

Lady Catherine then glanced over to Mr. Collins. This was his opportunity for him to pay his wife some compliment, provide some praise, and I tried to will him to do so, but nevertheless he did not.

Instead Mr. Collins remarked, "Yes, Cousin Elizabeth certainly is lovely, but in truth I preferred her elder sister, who was the fairest woman I have ever beheld, but I was warned off pursuing her by Mrs. Bennet as she was likely to be engaged."

He grimaced then, making his pig-like face even uglier. In truth, between the two of them, Mrs. Collins certainly had the nicer visage and by far was the better company. However, as I have frequently observed, generally even the ugliest of men if he has some sort of prospects can get a wife fairer than himself. I suppose this is God's way of bringing mankind ever closer to perfection, for it improves the future generation, hopefully makes it more attractive than the one before without a diminishment of intellect, which almost solely comes from the man.

Unfortunately for their child, the one time I viewed her, well all their worst features seemed wedded together, but she is young yet. Perhaps she might yet improve.

Rather than realize how he was wounding Mrs. Collins, Mr. Collins added, "Save of course Miss de Bourgh, who is surely the jewel of the land, a diamond among rocks." Mr. Collins then inclined his head toward Anne and gave something of a seated bow to her.

As a male fully unrelated to Mrs. Collins, it would have been uncouth for me to do so, but I was tempted to say something in praise of her appearance. I was certain that Miss Elizabeth would not like to have her plain friend disparaged so.

Lady Catherine continued ". . . but things have certainly turned out as they ought, in you marrying Mrs. Collins, although it is unfortunate that your first child was born female and cannot inherit. Far better a girl child, though, than one born out of wedlock."

Richard screwed up his brow upon our aunt's final pronouncement and I confess that I was hardly less confused, although quickly I formulated a supposition, one that I did not like well at all. I did my best though, to keep my expression bland. None knew I had ever attempted to propose to Miss Elizabeth and I preferred that my past favor remain hidden.

"What has befallen the Bennets?" Richard attempted to redirect Lady Catherine's conversation.

"Her family has fallen down, down, and in consequence my parson, Mr. Collins shall soon be leaving us (indeed this is the final time he shall grace our table), to restore that family estate to its proper God-fearing state."

"How?" Richard inquired.

"Perhaps our Easter dinner is not the best place to speak of it," Lady Catherine pronounced. "But then again, as the one who died for all sinners rose again on this day, perhaps it is only fitting to speak of those who have rejected the Savior's sacrifice and gift."

She considered further and then explained, "The youngest Miss Bennet ran away with a common soldier, but rather than being married, threw away her good name and ended up employed in a brothel. Although rescued by her uncle, when returned to her family her father suffered a fit and died."

I saw the color rise in Richard's face, while his older brother who knew nothing of the Bennets simply seemed amused. Richard opened and closed his mouth once, twice, thrice, yet no words came. If Anne had even heard her mother's words, she gave no sign that they bore any significance to her; she seemed as unconcerned as a reptile might have been. Mr. and Mrs. Collins, who must have been the source of the information, hardly had any reaction at all.

Into the silence I responded, "I am grieved to hear of it." I did not want anyone to suspect I already knew, for Richard would not like that I kept this information from him and Lady Catherine would wonder at the source of my information, make it her duty to find out more.

Lady Catherine commented, "Well you might be surprised, Fitzwilliam, Darcy," she nodded at Richard and then at me. "Yet, the family did not take this as a sign to excise this venomous snake from their home; no indeed. Instead, they welcomed back into their bosom this unrepentant sinner who had not the sense to end her earthly life to expiate her sins.

"Indeed, she did not even shuffle off this mortal coil when it became clear that the despicable acts she performed for any and all would result in her bearing a poisoned fruit."

Then, there, Lady Catherine alluded to what I feared, but I listened on intently, hoping I was wrong.

"Any other woman suffering such shame would have taken her own life (though that be sin as well), or made sure such child never drew breath. Lately she is delivered of a son, who bears no name but her own.

"The Lucases (the parents of Mrs. Collins), though naturally enough they have not seen him themselves, have heard tell that he may be part Indian or China-man. Any sensible woman would have let herself succumb to childbirth fever given such mortification."

The Baron Hatchington snorted, perhaps struck by the notion that no one can just will one's self to die, or perhaps of a mind that a woman who runs away in a failed elopement and then ends up in a brothel can hardly be sensible to begin with. Or perhaps he was just amused by hearing Lady Catherine's account.

"Many a time, I have regretted telling Mr. Collins to let the Bennets have their six months of mourning, for I certainly would not have given such advice had I known she would have such a child, but a gentleman does not go back upon his word, no matter what it costs him, and I suppose it was just as well for little Catherine to not be so young for the journey.

"And the thieving wretches that they are, the Lucases have told us the Bennets are selling the contents of Longbourn though all of its furnishings, books and the like should have come to Mr. Collins complete. 'Tis not right, but truly they must have always been bad. God himself must have known they did not deserve to live a life of leisure."

In a sudden, salacious turn, she opined "I am curious to learn if the other girls will take up some useful employment, although who would employ them now? If they have no success with that, perhaps instead they shall end up like their sister, employed upon their backs."

Lady Catherine cackled then, and I had never been more ashamed to have her as my aunt. I was formulating a defense of them, but Richard who had reddened with anger spoke first.

"While I certainly do not know the particulars of all that has taken place regarding the Bennets, I'll not have you speak so of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her other sisters. She is a lady to be sure. While the parents, the mother and the father, were tasked with raising this young fallen woman to be a God-fearing and upstanding, surely her sisters are not responsible for the licentious behavior of their sibling."

Mr. Collins interjected "When I visited Longbourn, I recall Cousin Lydia tried to get me to read to all of them from a novel, a novel from the lending library no less! I would not do so, no indeed. Yet her parents, her sisters, seemed to find nothing wrong in such behavior.

"Too, at the Netherfield Ball, Cousin Lydia partook of far too much punch, I am certain of it, and danced with many a common soldier there, yet none intervened. I say that when-"

Richard interrupted him, "If this Miss Lydia is the youngest of the sisters, she must be very young indeed and has paid a heavy price for her poor judgment. But who among us when young has not acted in a way that much bad could not have come of it?" Richard looked over at me then, and I knew he was thinking of Georgiana.

"Yes," I agreed. "Youthful follies are entirely too common, and all too rarely is a man condemned for the effects of his actions upon an innocent. While the family and that sister have paid a heavy price, none can think Miss Elizabeth is at fault for her sister's conduct; just being related to a sinner is nothing remarkable." I could not resist adding, "If it were, Mr. Collins would thereby be unfit for his office as would we all."

Mr. Collins sputtered and replied. "The Bennets surely spared the rod. Mrs. Collins and I shall not act in such a way with our daughter. Indeed, although she is usually meek and quite proper, I have employed discipline in my own home on occasion when it is needed and rightly so. I rather think Cousin Elizabeth would have required far more correction meted out than does my dear wife." He nodded, seemingly pleased with himself.

I felt my sympathy for Mrs. Collins increase. While I did not approve of how my father had treated my mother in their marriage, he had never raised a hand or implement to her, said more than once "Physical punishment of wife, child or beast is beneath our dignity. We must always be kind those who God has made weaker, has not gifted with rationality of great men. A woman regardless of her age, a child of tender years, a horse, (also servants and most commoners) are ruled by their whims and caprice. We cannot fault them for this, must as their betters be merciful to them and direct them in the ways they should go."

The conversation then moved on to other things, but I was certain that Richard would wish to discuss the matter further when we were away from our aunt and the Collinses. Indeed I was correct, but I did not anticipate that Richard would declare his intent to marry Miss Elizabeth to rescue her from her state, or the agony and anger this would cause me.

I took the rare action in confiding in John of my desire for Miss Elizabeth and determination that we keep Richard from his folly. John gave me much advice, including telling me "Darcy, you are a lucky man, with the power to choose most anything. Given her situation, she will accept whatever you take of her. Have her for an hour, a day, some months or a year or two."

I protested "But she is of the gentry, it could hardly be right to act that way with such as she and I cannot believe she would freely chose such degradation. She is rather different than her sister Lydia."

John rolled his eyes. "Have you not been listening to me? Her position in life is not what it once was. The choice is yours. She has no father to defend her and even if she did, you are a fair shot, far better than most.

"Once her maidenhead's blood be upon your Thomas, you own her for as little or as long as you want. I advise you to just seize her immediately and sate your lust right away, so you do not question yourself, give her no time to work on your human feelings. If she resists, knock her around a little; she will soon learn that it is better to let you have your way."

"I could never...It wouldn't be right." I protested.

I much preferred my own musing about returning to Miss Elizabeth and being welcomed with an embrace, of hearing her confession that she was wrong to doubt that I knew best, that she regretted rejecting. Better still would it be if she told me (blushing and averting her gaze for such a confession would be most improper) how she had longed for my touch, had feared it, but now could not resist being mine in any capacity I might offer. I wanted a willing and warm woman in my arms.

Still, I did not leave, for I was captivated and fascinated by his suggestions, found it stimulating to glimpse upon this hidden world, the world my father would have likely wanted for me.

"To salve your conscience, afterwards, if you so chose and if you think the matter will become known, you may compensate her relatives. As for me, I would not do it at all. They are her favors after all, far better to give her some pretty baubles as payment, promise more if she pleases you well and take her away before anyone can miss her.

"If you are fortunate, once you have set her up in a house in London or near Pemberley, taken her away from all she knows (by doing so placing her fully under your power), and made her understand that this is her life now, she shall prove lusty, shall soon be bouncing most happily upon your tickle tail, take you down her throat with joy, content to be set up well in her own situation with coin that you should not miss at all.

"Should you have any trouble with her, I find it can be most effective to threaten to sell her to a brothel. Women can be logical when it suits them. Far easier to service one man than a dozen or more a night."

Although I was tempted to argue with John, could never act in the way he suggested, could not do any of it, for it would not be right, it did occur to me that if making a less than honorable proposition, a veiled threat might serve me well.

"Once you tire of her or if she prove less enjoyable than you hope, I shall find you an actress of prodigious appetites (for her you will have to make a sizable outlay, but it is worth it in my experience) and the former Miss Bennet shall find a new protector. Indeed she may prove pleased to be relieved from the constraints of living an honorable life of poverty to chose her next sponsor freely."

I asked, "Have you acted thus?" What he had said, it was a revelation. Vile, depraved, certainly, but I had not understood how things worked for those of us with the power of such awful choice available to us. I was most curious to learn more of how he had lived.

"Yes, a time or two. The first did not prove suitable at all. I found her too boring and staid once she accepted the way of things. The second, I should not have taken her with me to the theatre for Lord * managed to lure her away with promises of better than I had for her. If she had asked me, I would have told her that she did not want to be under his power. That one likes it rough, almost cost her an eye.

"But I had my revenge. After I was married I found myself at a house party at which Lord *'s daughter also attended with her particular friend. She was a pretty little thing but naive and vain, had an almost vacant garret, had just had her first season. She did not recall that I was married, and with a few empty promises I was able to debauch her most thoroughly and the silly little thing kept coming back to me again and again. I recall, she had a most pleasant handful." John spread out his fingers to demonstrate how large.

"She got married some four months later, to the fourth son of Baronet , went away to the country and though they tried to conceal it, had a baby of the male persuasion much too soon."

John chortled.

"Were you not afraid that Lord * would call you out, or perhaps hire someone to beat you? Did you not regret that your child would be raised by another man?"

"No, not at all. Lord * is a coward at heart and still needs my father's support in the House of Lords. He did say something or other to my father, but then when I explained the whole thing to him, the Earl took my side of things. As for the child, what is it to me? I learned that I could sow well, should have a heir by now. Too, I likely improved Baronet *'s line. They claim a distant relationship to those on the thrown, point as evidence their incidents of those with bleeding disorders."

John shook his head then, "It is frustrating that in three years of marriage, all I have is a daughter to show for it. I just want my wife to have a son or two and be done with it. Sex for procreation's sake alone is drudgery, far less fun than with my wife in watercolors."

He slapped me on the back then. "I wish you much success with your mission, but I warn you that you may lose Richard's friendship when all is said and done. He can be rather stubborn in holding a grudge, I hope this woman's commodity is worth all the trouble."

I did not answer him. I would keep the peace and not question how he lived. I had much to think about from our conversation.

While up until that day I imagined that I was done ever considering a further association with Miss Elizabeth, either a marital or debauched one, I wanted to be the one to have her gratitude, I wanted to be the one she was beholden to for her rescue from her dire condition. Not Richard, never Richard.

I could not imagine Miss Elizabeth having anything more than an amiable marriage with Richard. I did not think it possible that he could hold her in any real regard. Their association had been of too short of a duration, borne of boredom, based on politeness. And given his limited resources, even should his inheritance come through, I did not doubt that eventually he would regret not seeking out a woman of means, but by then it would be too late.

I also thought myself to be superior to Richard in every way. Richard might be the son of an earl, but had not my wealth. He had no head for figures, often spent more than he ought, requiring help from me, his father or his brother when this occurred. He was not so bad as to be a spendthrift, but I had long ago stopped keeping track of the money he had "borrowed."

Any woman should delight in my visage as I rose over her to do my marital duties, should enjoy seeing my face every day. Richard by contrast had always been a plain man, with his eyes set just a smidge too close together, his nose beak-like, and added to this now was a long puckered scar that crossed his lips and chin.

Of course, much perhaps as was true for Mrs. Collins, Richard's pleasant company, amiability, counterbalanced some his deficiencies to be sure. He was undoubtedly more as ease before strangers, of a more consistent temperament than me.

But I do not think that this outweighed that Richard was not a person capable of discussing philosophy, examining the deeper questions in life. I also thought that on the whole, except perhaps in understanding military strategy and horseflesh, I had the far better understanding, a much superior intellect in everything, the discernment and excellence that my father had bequeathed to me.

While I would have given Richard another one of the Miss Bennets, perhaps the eldest, Miss Jane Bennet, with less hesitation, believed them to have as much of a chance at happiness if not more than she might have with Bingley, who frequently fell in love and out of love (although this latest bout had seemingly lasted longer than most), I did not want to let Richard have Miss Elizabeth. No, he was not worthy of her. But since he could not act rationally, I would have to take that choice away from him for his own good, for her own good too.


A/N: I actually thought the Lady Catherine (and Mr. Collins to a lesser extent) was pretty hilarious in this chapter and wonder if you will agree. Did you notice how Darcy thinks about things his father has told him and just accepts them? Irony of ironies, Darcy believes he is discerning and thoughtful, but doesn't question whether his father was correct or whether it was Darcy's father himself that was ruled by his own whims and caprice, or that Darcy is now doing the same. Too his casual chauvinism, although probably far from atypical in this time, causes him to think that he knows best. How do you think these blind spots have affected his dealings with Elizabeth?