Jane Bennet was gooooddd!
That was the thought that plagued Darcy for most of the trip from Cheapside to Hunsford. She was good, and the longer he spent getting to know her, rather than spying on her across a ballroom for a couple hours, the more the concluded that she was good for several definitions of the word.
For example, good was a synonym for skilled. The lady entered the parlour half-asleep to meet a man she knew her sister despised, and who she probably knew was responsible for months of torment, and about ten seconds of reaction was all he got out of her before she became polite to the point of absurdity. For a man who had spent the previous decade trying to hide his reactions to nearly everything, he had to admire her skill. She was that good.
Through all sorts of revelations, from murder and mayhem to outright betrayal, to her sister's plight, to openly admitting he had done her a great disservice—she only had one extreme reaction, which her aunt soothed within a minute, and thereafter gave very little away. He could occasionally tell she was struggling to maintain her countenance, and she certainly gave him a couple of stare-downs that were intimidating; but most of the time he may as well have been talking to a statue. It was slightly unnerving in a way, but he certainly admired her steely determination.
He wondered if her reticence was a defence mechanism against her mother's frequent and loud prognostications about how her beauty would save them (from the hedgerows, apparently). Had she been hiding for years? Had she tried other approaches and given up? Had Miss Elizabeth developed her impertinence for the same reason? More alarming—did Miss Elizabeth develop her impertinence to shield her favourite sister from their mother? It would make a certain amount of sense, and he had to admit that he had observed some actions from time to time that appeared to invite her mother's ire, which Elizabeth could certainly handle, to spare someone else. He even remembered the lady defending him against Mrs Bennet at Netherfield when the matron visited the ill Miss Bennet, and she despised him at the time. On the other hand, being her father's admitted favourite would serve just as well for an explanation.
He wondered if Bingley had a better idea of the lady's sentiments and just did not have the strength of his convictions, or if she was as guarded in private as she was in public, leaving Bingley as confused as Darcy? Obviously, neither man could boast of being the sharpest axe in the shed. Either way, although it did not reduce his guilt for colluding with Miss Bingley in the least, he thought his friend's feelings must not have been all that ardent. Darcy knew he had taken far too long to admit his own feelings for Elizabeth, and he had obviously made a complete mess of acting on them; but once he made up his mind, he knew he might well have killed to protect her. He certainly would not let a mere friend talk him out of deep feelings. Ergo, Bingley probably had no deeper feelings for Miss Bennet than he had for any of his other angels.
Later, he worked on an entirely different meaning of good: possessing goodness or virtue.
When he explained his perfidy, she forgave him almost immediately, a feat he doubted he could accomplish, and in fact, a feat he had told Miss Elizabeth was beyond him. It seemed that Miss Bennet did not suffer from implacable resentment. She appeared to spend quite a bit of time thinking through her reactions, but he suspected she mostly made her decisions quickly and made him wait because it was the most extreme punishment she could manage.
Watching Miss Bennet and Georgiana was instructive. Most of the time, he thought his sister would have smacked him if she had a fan handy, and he would have accepted it as his due. Not Miss Bennet… she was just too good!
About an hour outside of London, Darcy observed Georgiana whispering to Miss Bennet for a few minutes, and then with her encouragement, Georgiana asked a serious question. It was not the first serious question of her life, but they were few and far between.
"Brother, would you mind explaining something?"
"Of course, Georgie. You need but ask."
She paused as if afraid, which was understandable.
Darcy believed Georgiana had a rather peculiar constellation of fears, and to be honest, he believed that may have contributed to her vulnerability to Wickham. She was afraid of almost nothing physical. Big mean horse: she assumed she could tame him. Large fence in her way: she assumed she could jump it. Snow and ice: anything short of six feet was unworthy of her notice. Cliff: she would barely look.
In fact, Darcy knew perfectly well if she had been with Fitzwilliam when they found Elizabeth, she would have beat him down by a mile, and probably even bested poor Max, much to his chagrin.
However, when she met people, she suffered an even worse case of the Darcy shyness that had plagued at least the last three generations. He knew it was the Darcy shyness, not just because her surname was Darcy, but because it most certainly did not come from the Fitzwilliams, where all shyness had been bred out of the line before they even started speaking English.
Most new acquaintances would have gotten nothing but monosyllables from Georgiana, but it seemed that Miss Bennet might just break her out of it.
Georgiana stammered and stuttered a bit, but finally asked an erudite question.
"You speak of reputations, but I do not understand. If a gentlewoman was similarly injured in Lambton, she would not be compromised by simply having a man carry her to medical attention, even if he was a gentleman. Nobody would ever ride in a carriage if that were the case. I have seen the doctor without a maid in attendance plenty of times. You spent a half‑hour alone in the library with Miss Elizabeth at Netherfield, yet you remain unwed. I think you even mentioned in a letter that you have been accidentally meeting her for walks right under Lady Catherine's nose, and even met her alone in the parsonage a couple of times. Why would she be compromised? More to the point, Miss Bennet has been in my company this whole time, and will not leave my side until Miss Elizabeth recovers, so why do you need to worry about her reputation?"
Darcy stared at her in wonder. He had never even overheard his sister ask such a long and detailed question of Mrs Annesley, and yet, she asked him in Miss Bennet's presence. It was remarkable, and all to the credit of the lady, he was certain. He obviously could not claim any for himself.
He looked to Miss Bennet to see what she thought, but she just raised an eyebrow in a gesture hauntingly reminiscent of Miss Elizabeth. "I wondered that myself, sir. Nobody has been compromised in living memory in Meryton without engag —"
The way she chopped her sentence off to protect Georgiana's sensibilities was quite endearing, so he addressed that first.
"You need not censure your speech. I have learned the hard way that ignorance is dangerous. I believe my sister understands what you meant and would not swoon if you finished the sentence."
"Of course not," Georgiana said with a confidence he quite appreciated.
A glance at Mrs Annesley showed that she was satisfied. Some companions might be put out when a stranger succeeded where she had not, but that lady was wise enough to understand that different lessons could be learned at different times, places, and circumstances. She had done her part, and taking assistance from another reflected her skill and wisdom.
Darcy began a subject he mostly despised.
"The rules seem very simple when you look at them in the deportment manuals, but they are, in fact, somewhat complex. Allow me to explain."
"We would appreciate it," Miss Bennet said for the group.
"It all comes down to reputations, and that all depends on what people do, but even more, what other people think they did."
Darcy could see Miss Bennet understood almost immediately, while Georgiana was a bit confused.
"As unfortunate as it is, a lot depends on the relative statures of the participants, their situations in life and so forth. How gossip spreads depends on the facts, how they are perceived, how they are presented, and how they are disbursed. A more salacious tale spreads faster and farther than a more mundane one, correct?"
"Correct," Jane replied, apparently having witnessed it first-hand, while Georgiana nodded.
"Suppose Miss Elizabeth accidentally turned her ankle and was helped back to the cottage by Mr Collins's nephew, or a neighbour she had known for years. Nobody would think twice, because —"
He was amused when Georgiana laughed a bit nervously. "Booooorrrrrrriiiiinnnnnggg."
"Exactly! If she quite accidentally was knocked over by a careless driver, bad timing, or bad luck, and the injury was a broken leg instead of a twisted ankle; would that be any different?"
"I suppose not," she said, but Darcy could see the gears turning in her mind.
"Now, how tedious is it if we substitute Mr Collins's nephew with the second son of an Earl and a decorated war hero, who is known to be out and about on his own in the area regularly, at suspiciously coincident times of day?"
Darcy suspected Georgiana had gotten about half of it, and looked towards Miss Bennet, who sighed in resignation.
"Now it is exciting… thrilling… even titillating. My mother, aunt, and sisters worked such a simple thing as rumours of Mr Bingley taking the lease on Netherfield for a week without pause. They would beat a story like that to the bone for months, embellishing, exaggerating, and —"
"And —" Darcy asked his sister with a pained expression.
Georgiana replied with a ferociously pained expression.
"It would become salacious by definition. A rogue like that must steal a kiss because he just could not help himself, regardless of how impractical it might be with her screaming in pain. She must have been at fault to be alone with a man and a broken leg in the first place, because no gently bred woman should walk alone where she could be at risk. She would —"
Darcy nodded and would have taken his sister's hand if Miss Bennet had not already done so.
"Now add murder, jealousy, possible madness to the mix —"
Both ladies gasped as if they had not had the least idea of what they were getting into, and Darcy suspected they probably had not. He had faith that Mr Gardiner did, and Mrs Gardiner seemed the type of lady who could read the situation like a book, but both of his companions still had a touching level of innocence.
Miss Bennet looked like she was about to turn green, but Darcy was not about to insult her by suggesting she might not attend her sister. He had not been slapped yet, but the night was yet young.
He leaned forward and stared at them. "Now add an Earl who will worry about his reputation far more than that of some unknown country girl, and a vindictive old lady desperate to shift the blame and cast aspersions anywhere that might distract from her own guilt. Perhaps her wonderful and perfect daughter caught Miss Elizabeth in a compromising position with her nephew, and he killed her out of spite, since no man can ever be anything but a savage once he has been to war."
Georgiana was white and shaking by then, but Miss Bennet was rubbing her back exactly like Darcy himself had earlier, and he was glad to see it.
Mrs Annesley, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, added, "You may as well finish."
"You may chastise me at your leisure for not giving fair warning, Miss Bennet, but you are about to enter a realm of cutthroat us vs them. Those in this carriage, the rest of your family, Miss Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam comprise us, and the entire Fitzwilliam family very well may serve for them. As I told your uncle, it may get ugly."
"Are you asserting the most likely outcome is Lizzy and I married to you and the colonel in whichever pairings work best, while in open warfare with an Earldom?"
"Possibly, though I hope to prevent that. Your reputation is not sullied yet, and there is a better than even chance I can keep it that way. That is why I have such impeccable references as Mrs Annesley and Mrs Collins instead of a maid. You may not be forced into anything, though of course, you may assume an appropriate offer is open if you choose."
Georgiana gasped. "Was that a proposal, brother?"
"Not in the least. It was a statement of fact and an offer of protection, in other words, a more explicit offer of what I already agreed with Mr Gardiner. Miss Bennet will know how to act when the time comes."
Georgiana just shook her head in wonder but reflected that anything ending with Miss Bennet as a relation was perfectly fine.
Darcy looked to Miss Bennet. "Beyond that, without question, should Miss Elizabeth survive, she must marry. The colonel or I would be ideal, but I would no more force that upon her than I would duel my cousin. If she cannot abide one of us, I can find her someone else suitable, but she will not have long to decide."
He watched Miss Bennet long enough to let her absorb all the implications.
"Is your cousin a good man. Would Elizabeth be happy with him?"
"Beyond question! He has reservations about making her follow the drum or live with his parents, (or more likely the Darcys), but between us, I have been trying for five years to convince him he has done his duty to king and country and more. I regularly beg him to allow me to give him an estate so he can settle and be happy. To be completely frank, if Miss Elizabeth does not recover well enough to follow him, or he finally succumbs to my obviously good advice, I will not scruple to use her health to convince him to refrain from returning to war. His luck cannot last forever."
"How would you feel about your cousin marrying the love of your life… presuming she is still the love of your life?"
"I would… endure it."
"And how would you feel about marrying me if it came to it?"
"I would consider it the greatest privilege, and we would be happy together," he said earnestly.
He observed her looking at him carefully in her inscrutable fashion that he thought he was just beginning to understand.
Of one thing, Fitzwilliam Darcy was certain. Elizabeth Bennet was and would always be his first love, but he most certainly would not feel like he got second best with Jane. She was different from Elizabeth, but she was certainly not less.
Naturally, he vastly preferred the thought that his cousin might find himself far luckier than he had any right to be.
A/N: For the record, I've long believed that while compromises were a thing, compromises in fiction are very different from what they were both in real life and in literature of the time. It was both more and less complicated than we portray it, and nowhere near as common.
Georgette Hyer popularized the trope, and much of Regency fiction goes along. For example, JA's characters frequently did things that would be compromises by Romance Novel standards. The half-hour in the library, the accidental meeting in the parsonage, the *GASP* Hunsford Proposal if observed (by the servant who let Darcy in the door), or the walks in Rosings might be considered compromising. Emma seemed to spend an awful lot of time with Mr Knightley.
I could go on, but I think if we just accept that it's a not quite accurate plot device and move on, we'll all be cool.
I should also point out that in the real Regency world, infidelity, gambling, and other vices were rampant, and extra-large seven-month babies were far more common than you might think.
I have an ongoing series called "The Compromise Chronicles" that does nothing but play with the compromise trope, sometimes to high levels of absurdity (nothing unusual for me). I added a small sort-of essay about compromises in Chapter 14 of CC.
A/N: I have now posted everything written, so things may slow down.
Wade