A/N: Back with a bit more.
Darcy's Struggle
Chapter 17: Lighting and Thunder
Monday, December 2, 1811
Lucas Lodge bright-shone in full celebratory glory.
Mrs. Bennet stiffened noticeably as the carriage came to a stop, unhappy about the party glow of the place, the soft sound of laughter and conversation drifting from inside. It could no longer be Elizabeth's refusal of Collins that caused Mrs. Bennet's reaction, Darcy knew; he guessed it was instead an old feud or jealousy between the two women. Mrs. Bennet had been beaten to the punch (Punch! Oh, no!), as it were. Lady Lucas managed her daughter's engagement party before Mrs. Bennet had managed her daughters' engagement party, even to set a date for it.
Darcy wondered if that delay had anything to do with Mr. Bennet, his disapproval of his favorite daughter's decision. There was no particular urgency about the Bennet's engagement party; Darcy and Bingley were installed at Netherfield, and more or less at leisure. But Collins had duties back in Kent; he could not stay indefinitely at Lucas Lodge.
Still, the fact of the party, its warm invitation, rankled Mrs. Bennet.
Almost as if Darcy and she were sharing one mind, Mrs. Bennet harrumphed. "All very well, I'm sure," she said, gazing cooly out of the carriage, "but we shall see, we shall see…"
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who still seemed disturbed by her mother's earlier effusions on taller fish. Darcy jumped out of the carriage and helped Mrs. Bennet down. Then, he took Elizabeth's hand.
Elizabeth's intense, liquid kiss in the Longbourn hallway returned to the mind of both— Darcy could feel it again and see it in her eyes — and she gazed at him with the most intimate smile she had yet bestowed upon him.
He squeezed her hand firmly, indicating his recollection of her past kiss and his delight at her present smile.
Embarrassment had yielded to a mutual memory of pleasure and her eyes shone in the dark, part of the shine her native luminosity, part the reflected light from Lucas Lodge.
But Elizabeth was wholly beautiful.
Our children.
Richard stepped out and helped Georgiana down. He turned his head to smirk at Darcy, gesturing with his eyes at Mrs. Bennet and shaking his head.
Darcy responded to the gesture with an infinitesimal shrug and a resigned grin.
Elizabeth took one of Darcy's arms and Georgiana took the other. Mrs. Bennet looked back and waited for Richard, and then he quickly scurried forward to offer her his arm.
The two of them led Darcy, his betrothed, and his sister inside. He could feel a slight crosscurrent of tension between the women on his arms, due, he knew, to Mrs. Bennet's comments in the carriage.
As they reached the steps to Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth stopped them. She looked across Darcy to Georgiana. "I did refuse Mr. Collins' addresses, and I did accept your brother's — but I had no notion your brother intended to make them. It was a surprise to me, not at all expected."
Georgiana's shoulders relaxed. "To propose without in any way preparing his chosen lady — now that sounds just like Fitzwilliam."
Elizabeth laughed. "He is a hard man to refuse."
Georgiana smiled with a tincture of longsuffering exasperation. "He is that."
Darcy smiled at his sister. "I will have you know that Miss Elizabeth did not say yes to my proposal." He heard Elizabeth gasp and then snicker very softly.
Georgiana's mouth opened and stayed open for a moment, astonished. "What did she say?" Georgiana asked, puzzled, attending to Darcy and not catching Elizabeth's reactions.
"Not yet yes and not yet no. I was left in suspense, forced to wait until the next day, and then to survive to the end of a spirited cross-examination to win a yes. I felt very much the contrary party, and very much feared the opposite answer."
"Good for you, Miss Elizabeth," Georgiana said with amusement and a self-aware, inexperienced archness, "I can only guess, but I suspect every man needs to be cross-examined in love now and then — especially those too used to getting their way, too used to hearing what they want to hear."
"Mr. Darcy now appreciates I will put him through his paces. I am rather fixed in my resolutions."
She laid her other hand on his arm, increasing their contact while her gaze and her smile became reflective, and her thumb caressed him, softening her teasing words — but privately.
Georgiana nodded at Elizabeth, admiration visible on her face.
When Georgiana looked away, Elizabeth put her lips near Darcy's ear. "You are not and never were the contrary party, Fitzwilliam."
Her whisper poured into him like warm water and pooled ardently below his waist, somehow warmer there.
He prayed Georgiana had no clue of his reaction.
He kept his eyes on the door of Lucas Lodge.
Breathe, breathe!
In a manful effort to calm himself, Darcy considered Richard and himself, their sameness in difference. Seeing Richard enter Lucas Lodge with Mrs. Bennet brought the comparison to mind. And he needed desperately to distract himself, call himself back from ardency…
Richard was a thoughtful man of action, Darcy an active man of thought. Richard kept little to himself and seemed rarely to have an unspoken thought. Darcy was all unspoken thoughts; he kept almost everything to himself.
Darcy knew himself to be a ruminant. While capable of prodigious quickness and cleverness, giftedly retentive, enough to make him one of the best students in his years at Cambridge, his normal pattern of thought was slow, circumvoluted, and regurgitative.
Brooding.
He took life seriously; he desperately wanted to live it well, to live deliberately.
But perhaps he wanted that too much, or perhaps he pursued it wrongly. Maybe that was why Rasselas fascinated him, why he frequented it. In making the choice of life, you have neglected to live. Maybe the book was a corrective he needed, a rectifying pressure against his tendency to believe his life could be reined in, bridled, directed. Unlike Imlac in the book, Darcy could not be content to be driven along the stream of life — or, what was that other Johnsonian line, from The Vanity of Human Wishes? To 'roll darkling down the torrent of his fate'.
He would not be conquered by Heraclitean flux, sink slowly in the slippery mud of things, buried eventually beneath Napoleon's fifth element.
But he could not stand aloof above it all either. Unmuddied, changeless, pristine. Absolute control, inviolability, were impossible. Choices had to be made, consequences enjoyed or endured. Every human life was lived amid unchosen circumstances, and every choice must be besieged by unchoice. Human beings are free only in the midst of necessity.
Reconciliation to that was required.
Bingley's ironic implication was right: even Darcy of Pemberley could not create ex nihilo, and could not speak things into being, despite his estimable power in his domain. All Darcy's gifts, his mind, his looks, his wealth, his standing, and his power left him faced with the same unruly twenty-four-hour days to fill, the same basic needs for food, clothing, and shelter, for vital heat, as any other man or woman. The same basic need for love in his life.
Love.
He had unwittingly transcended himself when he told Mr. Bennet that no love is wasted.
Darcy had not been insincere, he meant what he said — but he had not known how much he was demanding of himself, how much it would take to keep faith with his own words. Like the man who prays for patience or wisdom, thinking it could be granted in the twinkling of an eye, Darcy had asked for more than he understood. Patience could be won only by difficult endurance; wisdom only by bitter enlightenment. To pray for either end was implicitly to pray for the means, pray to undergo the means necessary to secure the end.
All his life, Darcy had limited himself to promises he knew he could keep, but his words to Mr. Bennet constituted a promise he could only hope to keep; he would have to live through keeping it to truly understand it.
Darcy bowed his head to his words about love and entered Lucas Lodge walking between Elizabeth and Georgiana.
Dark hair, light hair.
The loves of his life.
The candlelight inside was golden, the air waxy.
Mrs. Bennet had introduced Richard to Sir William, and Darcy introduced Georgiana after Richard and Mrs. Bennet finished their greetings. Mrs. Bennet had exerted herself not to say anything complimentary.
Sir William bowed to Georgiana. "We are honored to have you here, Miss Darcy. We're celebrating our daughter's engagement to Mr. Collins, but we are also very happy to acknowledge your brother's good news — " Sir William bowed to Darcy and Elizabeth " — and Mr. Bingley's, though we are sorry he is in London, and not here with us. Still, we have Miss Bennet with us, and we can acknowledge her. Soon, I'm sure, we'll be gathering at Longbourn for an engagement party there. What a big time in our little country society!"
Darcy thanked Sir William and led the ladies inside.
The drawing room was large and had been emptied of furniture except for a long table at which dinner would be served. Chairs surrounded the table. The silver and china gleamed. Wide gold candelabras occupied three spots along the table, and free-standing gold ones were stationed like sentinels at each end.
Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas were standing off to one side of the room, talking to Colonel Forster and his wife. Three militiamen milled about in red coats, but none was Wickham. Miss Maria, Miss Lucas' younger sister, was seated in a chair near the engaged couple, watching them sometimes and sometimes the officers. On the other side of the room stood a couple Elizabeth identified as her uncle and aunt Phillips.
The other carriage from Longbourn had arrived, and Miss Bennet and the other three sisters entered, along with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. Mrs. Hurst seemed self-conscious about her mottled bruise but managed to carry herself with dignity. Miss Lydia walked straight to the nearest red coat, waving at the officer, "Captain Carter!", and laughing loudly. Miss Kitty followed her but seemed unsure what to do once they reached the Captain. She laughed in a faint echo of her sister. Miss Mary went to sit with Maria Lucas, after casting a longing look at the pianoforte pushed almost to the back wall.
Darcy, Elizabeth, and Georgiana walked to Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas. Darcy bowed as the ladies curtsied. Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas returned the gestures, his bow, her curtsy.
"Miss Darcy! What an honor, what unutterably gracious condescension! It is as if an angel from on high winged down to lowly Meryton to bless our engagement. I am, you may know, the rector of Hunsford, patronized by your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh." Mr. Collins shot a look at Darcy when he said 'patronized', the look as clumsy and layered with self-regarding humility as Darcy might have predicted. This is the true likeness between Collins and Lady Catherine, the abyss of their self-regard. Darcy noticed a shift in Georgiana's features — she had just realized that the corpulent cleric standing before her was the man who had proposed to and been refused by Elizabeth.
It was the first time the two couples had faced each other as couples and Darcy admitted it was awkward and absurd.
Collins was incapable of deep regard for anyone but himself, as his succession of offers proved, and the only pain Elizabeth had caused him was wounded pride. But as pride was so much of the man, the wound was consequential. And it was clear he wanted to cause her pain, if possible; it was in the rise of his shoulders, the downturn of his lips.
"Is not all this," Collins gestured widely, "is not all this most remarkable? To think that a family such as this, the family of my darling Charlotte, Sir William, and Lady Lucas, would go to such trouble, to such inordinate lengths, to celebrate an addition — a small, humble addition, almost nothing, and yet! — yes, go to such trouble to celebrate an addition to their redoubtable family. It is most pleasing, most gratifying. Why, just a moment ago I was sharing with my darling Charlotte the number of candles burning in this room, this room alone, all burning for me." Charlotte narrowed her eyes and Collins, noting the shift in her features, eventually understood, though the self-correction went against his inclinations. He did at least omit the number. "That is, all burning for us, for me and my darling Charlotte. It seems like a foretaste of heaven. The commendation of our mutual choice is most gratifying, most pleasing. It makes my having assured Charlotte, during my address to her, my having assuring her in the most animated language, of the violence of my affections, seem fated — as if any similar assurances must have been the merest theatricals, a rehearsal for the real thing, practice for the capture of a heart worth having." Collins ended this painful period with a supercilious, superfluous bow, not aimed at Charlotte but at Elizabeth.
Charlotte frowned. Elizabeth smothered a smirk. Georgiana listened and watched with surprised and appalled fascination. Darcy wanted only to strike the man.
But instead, Darcy tried to shift the topic.
"Speaking of captures, did you ever capture your hat?"
"My hat, sir?" Collins was doing his best to balance his resentment toward Elizabeth with his sycophancy toward Darcy, and that was made harder by Elizabeth being on one of Darcy's arms. It was hard for him to respond to them differently while they stood entwined.
"Yes, when I saw you outside the barracks, a rushing, mighty wind claimed your hat and you were chasing after it."
"A rushing, mighty…? Oh, yes, it was claimed by the breeze and led me on a merry chase, but I did eventually secure it. Very kind of you, sir, very kind, to ask after the state of my hat."
Darcy led Elizabeth and Georgiana away so that others could greet the couple. Georgiana tilted her head forward so that she could see Elizabeth past Darcy. "That man? That man proposed to you?"
Elizabeth nodded, her eyebrows climbing slightly. "In the most animated language, although, he seems to believe now that his words then have the same relationship to an actual proposal as stage thunder does to thunder."
Darcy laughed aloud. "Stage thunder. All noise and no actual effect. Hard to imagine a more perfect image of that man."
Georgiana covered her laugh with her hand and kept her eyes on Elizabeth. "I can hardly imagine going from that proposal to Fitzwilliam's proposal."
"From stage thunder to thunder," Elizabeth said with an oracular expression.
Georgiana glanced at Darcy to see his reaction but he schooled his features. He was not sure what Elizabeth meant but he could not ask her at the moment.
Elizabeth invited Georgiana to join her and speak to her sisters, Lydia and Kitty, who were still talking to Captain Carter. Darcy found his arms unoccupied and he walked to the opposite side of the room, taking up a position against the wall, but careful to smile. More of Meryton's citizenry were now making it into the room, and a short line of final well-wishers had formed to pay their respects to Collins and Miss Lucas.
Darcy could not help but stare at the couple of honor, as if seeing them at a distance allowed him to see them more clearly. Perspective. Elizabeth had called Miss Lucas' acceptance of Collins unsound, and Darcy had to agree. Miss Lucas seemed a clever, amiable woman. Collin, by contrast, was a man who was neither. But Miss Lucas wanted security, a home of her own, to break her dependency on her family even if that meant becoming dependent on Collins. Neither of them knew what it was to love the other and Darcy could not imagine that changing. Collins was too in love with himself to spare any love for anyone else, and Miss Lucas was too clear-headed to succumb to illusions about her husband. Their marriage would forever and always be a contractual affair, a bargain that brought neither what they wanted but only a placeholder for it. Collins wanted Elizabeth and ended up instead with her best friend, a woman who, from Collins' point of view, was Elizabeth's understudy. His pride regretted the loss of the leading lady. Miss Lucas wanted a home, but it came with a stuffy bit of animated furniture, the rector himself.
"You ought not to be so severe upon the couple," Miss Bennet said to Darcy as she joined him.
Darcy smiled at Elizabeth's older sister, struck anew by how beautiful she was, and by the similarities between her face and Elizabeth's that their different colorings and dispositions had hidden from him until that moment. Darcy liked Miss Bennet very much, he decided.
"Severe?"
"You have a most intense stare when you are thinking, sir. And when you are feeling. Lizzy suffered under it at Netherfield when she took care of me. She thought you disapproved of her. Strongly."
"No, much the opposite."
"So we now know. I am glad for my sister that it is so," she said with a sweet smile.
She lifted her eyes to Collins and Miss Lucas and her smile trailed away. "Charlotte has made a complex decision, and I understand it, in one way, but I cannot approve it."
"No?"
"No. She does not love him as she ought, so she ought not to marry him."
Darcy turned to face Miss Bennet. "You take that conclusion to follow?"
For all her softness of person, a glint showed in Miss Bennet's eyes that made their light blue seem much like Elizabeth's dark brown. "I do."
Darcy stood quiet for a moment. "Do you then disapprove of Elizabeth marrying me?"
"I don't. Why would I?"
Darcy bit the inside of his lip before he answered. "Because she told me before she accepted me that she does not love me."
She gasped softly. "Wait, is that why my father read you that passage of Conjugal Precepts?"
"Yes," Darcy nodded, "a lack of mutual affection. What did you think? Did Bingley not explain?"
She shook her head. "Mr. Bingley did not explain and I did not ask. I thought I understood, thought my father was being…difficult because of your different stations in life, that sort of inequality…different manners, a failure of 'conformity of manners'…not an inequality of affections." She said the last softly and with a dubious tone.
Darcy looked away from Miss Bennet and toward Elizabeth.
She and Georgiana were talking and laughing with Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty. Captain Carter was talking to another officer a short distance away. Georgiana was focused on Elizabeth, and Darcy saw the old bright glow in his sister's countenance, the one that had dimmed so since Ramsgate. Elizabeth seemed as pleased with Georgiana as Georgiana was with her. All that he had hoped for and more.
He looked back at Miss Bennet. "So, does your conclusion follow in your sister's case?"
"She has never told me she does not love you, Mr. Darcy. Although," Miss Bennet paused, recollecting, "she has not told me she does. When we have talked, she does what Lizzy always does. She teases and jests. And I suppose I simply assumed…"
"I understand," Darcy said gently, not wanting to seem to offer any sort of correction or criticism. Like Bingley, Miss Bennet was all candor, pure of heart.
"And this is why Elizabeth and Charlotte have been at sixes and sevens? It is not just that Lizzy disapproves of what Charlotte has done, but that Lizzy seems to have done the same?"
"Yes, Charlotte called Elizabeth a hypocrite," Darcy said after making sure no one was close enough to hear.
"Oh, oh, that is…unfortunate. But they seem to have moved past it."
Darcy nodded. "Yes, as much as they can. Time and distance will likely do the rest. They are both rational."
Miss Bennet stared at her sister for a long moment. "Lizzy does not look unhappy, Mr. Darcy, does she?"
At just that moment, Elizabeth's starlight twinkling laugh reached his ears, blended with Georgiana's more earthy giggle.
"No, she does not. She is not formed for unhappiness or melancholy."
"But you would have her happiness depend on you?" The question seemed mostly rhetorical.
Darcy answered anyway. "I would have Elizabeth happy. What constitutes that happiness is not mine to dictate."
Miss Bennet's blue eyes were very soft when she faced him. "Not being in love and not knowing you are in love are two different things. Do not forget that, Mr. Darcy. Love is not like physical pain. You can be in love and fail to know it." Her manner and tone grew more confident. "Lizzy enjoys sketching characters but there is one character in Hertfordshire that she has never sketched."
Darcy thought about Elizabeth's comment about his intricate character, her difficulty knowing him, about him being like blue, shades and shades. "Mine?"
"She is sketching yours daily, Mr. Darcy, filling it in constantly. But no, the character she has never sketched is her own. Self-knowledge is difficult."
Darcy felt Miss Bennet's remark profoundly. "Yes, Miss Bennet, it is."
She smiled at him in her serene, celestial way. "Perhaps your task, sir, is not to create affection in my sister, but to help her own the affection she already feels."
A/N: Well, the site is malfunctioning — as it regularly does — and it has dried up responses. Love to hear from you!
The second half of the party next time, and then a crucial event the next day. Three or four more chapters to go, and maybe an epilogue.