I said this was a one-shot but I lied.
CHAPTER 2
"Mr. Bennet! I was not expecting to see you here," Mr. Darcy said. "But you are very welcome."
"I hope I am not intruding," his guest said. He carried a wooden crate that appeared to be full of paper. "I sought you out for a private discussion because I have some information and some questions for you. And, depending on how you respond, perhaps there is hope."
"Is there something I could help you with?"
"I am wishful that we could help each other," Mr. Bennet said. "You may think I am quite insane before I am done with my tale, but I hope these writings will help prove my good faith."
"Are these for me?"
"Yes, I have brought you some reading that you might find interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Engrossing, edifying, at times horrifying," Mr. Bennet amended. "I believe that you might learn fascinating things about yourself and people you care about. But I know I was quite shocked by some of the contents."
"Would you care for refreshments?" Mr. Darcy asked, waving at the decanter on the side table. "Some people find that insanity is easier to swallow with a little lubrication."
"Well, it is rather early in the day but perhaps my story will sound a bit less crazy with some fortification." Mr. Bennet said.
They both took a moment to collect their thoughts while Mr. Darcy poured them a drink.
Mr. Bennet sipped his brandy with appreciation. "I should have known that you only serve the best," he said. "I am tempted to prolong the conversation just to have time for another glass."
"But if you satisfy my curiosity faster we can toast the outcome earlier," Mr. Darcy said.
"A good point, Mr. Darcy. So I am going to start right in the middle of the story and tell you that I am here for two main reasons. First, I am trying not to die. And second, if you wish to be happy, you may need some help."
"Excuse me?" Mr. Darcy said.
Mr. Bennet sighed. "Son, please do not be offended but you know nothing about women."
Mr. Darcy looked sharply up at being called son but he did not choose to comment on that. Spinning his drink around in the glass, he waited silently for a while. "This all seems like a non sequitur but I trust that you will explain."
"A good non sequitur can be quite ruined by explanations but I will try," Mr. Bennet said. "After all, explanations are what I came here for. That and a glimpse of your famous library."
"I do not know what exactly I was expecting you to say, but certainly not any of that," Mr. Darcy said. "What do you know about my library?"
"My bout of recent reading has taught me many strange facts about you."
"What on earth are you reading?" Mr. Darcy wondered. "If you are getting anonymous letters about me I hope you consider the motives of the source."
"You may tell me your opinion about the source once you have read these," Mr. Bennet said, gesturing at the papers. "I know I was fascinated by these accounts of your life and opinions."
"What, all that?" Mr. Darcy was surprised.
"Do not try to tell me that you are not a great reader," Mr. Bennet said. "I know better by now."
"Yes but are you really implying what I thought you did? That all those texts are about me?" Mr. Darcy asked. "If you do not mind me saying, that seems crazy."
"Believe me, when the apothecary Mr. Jones and his friend first approached me about this matter, I thought they were crazy too," Mr. Bennet said. "But I have since done more research, and the truth is even stranger than what they thought."
"It sounds very intriguing," Mr. Darcy said. "But I must admit that I have no idea what is going on here."
"You see, I had asked about life insurance," Mr. Bennet said. "I thought it might help my family if something happened to me. But I was told that I could not get it because gentlemen in my circumstances are at an increased risk of dying."
"I am sorry to hear that," Mr. Darcy said. "What kind of an ailment do you suffer from?"
"I have had some worrying symptoms but presently I am in tolerable health," Mr. Bennet said. "But Mr. Jones and Mr. Fawkes had looked into some accounts of people who died very suddenly at my age, and found that several of them had striking similarities to me."
"What do you mean, striking similarities?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"I mean that most people would say they were me," Mr. Bennet said. "Mr. Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire, a bookish sort of a fellow, married to a woman who greatly resembles my wife, with five daughters, exactly like mine. His estate is entailed to a cousin who is very much like my hapless heir."
"How many Mr. Bennets of Longbourn with five daughters can there be in Hertfordshire?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"Thousands, it seems," Mr. Bennet said.
"I do not understand," Mr. Darcy said.
"I struggle with it myself," Mr. Bennet said. "But after Mr. Jones and Mr. Fawkes alerted me to the problem of all the dead Mr. Bennets I have been looking into this in more detail. And I kept finding more and more stories about families just like mine."
"Do you mean fictional tales, or biographical accounts of your life and family?"
"To a great extent, they are both at the same time," Mr. Bennet said. "There are things that I definitely recognize as true about me or my family members. One particularly eerie story reported a conversation that I had with my daughters almost verbatim. But there are discrepancies as well, such as events that never happened or relatives that we do not have."
"So those stories must have been written by someone who knows your family intimately," Mr. Darcy said.
"I thought of that," Mr. Bennet said. "But one person could never be as prolific a writer so it would have to be several people who know us very well indeed. And some of these accounts describe things that I did that I never told a soul about as well as people whose life is far removed from mine so I have no idea who the writer could have been."
"Very curious."
"In some of these texts Mr. Bennet is definitely the worst father in all of England," Mr. Bennet said. "And I would love to believe that I am not exactly the same person that is being written about."
"I suppose we all have the capacity to do both bad things and good," Mr. Darcy said.
"One theory that I have is that the stories represent parallel paths that my life could have taken," Mr. Bennet said. "Maybe all those Mr. Bennets were me at one point in my life. But something turned out differently and it changed the outcome. Maybe I went left instead of right, the coin fell on heads instead of tails, the horse that lost a shoe on Tuesday became lame on Monday instead."
"Fascinating," Mr. Darcy said.
"I missed the stagecoach and stayed an extra day in town. The great-uncle lived a year or two longer. The baby that was a girl was a boy," Mr. Bennet said. "It may be a seemingly minor detail, but entire fortunes are changed."
"For the better or for the worse?"
"Both, I think," Mr. Bennet said. "In some amusing accounts the family is very well off and lives happily ever after but in others there is one disaster after another, and only the hardiest can handle the problems."
"You say that bad things happen to you in those stories?" Mr. Darcy asked hesitantly. "That is, to the Mr. Bennet described in them."
"Yes, I have died a thousand deaths," Mr. Bennet said dramatically. "Well, perhaps not quite as many. But my counterpart dies quite suddenly in a number of these accounts. Coincidentally, often within a few months of the present time."
"It must be quite frightening for you."
"It is," Mr. Bennet said. "I do not know if they predict the future but I am not yet ready to die, and I would wish to see my daughters better settled before I go."
"Their fortunes are rather uncertain, i understand," Mr. Darcy said.
"There were some stories in which I had a son who would inherit Longbourn and my daughters had dowries but alas, in my current circumstances they are less lucky."
"Was one of your daughters a son ín those stories or did you have more children?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"I had five sons in one of the stories," Mr. Bennet said. "And there was a lady from Derbyshire named Wilhelmina Darcy."
"I do not know her," said Mr. Darcy.
"You might know her better than you think," Mr. Bennet said. "She seems to share some quirks of personality with you."
"Well, writers have their licence to make things up," Mr. Darcy said.
"Yes, some of it is clearly fictional," Mr. Bennet said. "I trust that none of my daughters are witches, and there are some tales about body swaps that seem highly implausible."
"Body swaps?"
"As in, one of my daughters might find herself inhabiting another person's body, and that person magically becomes her for a while," Mr. Bennet said. "They keep their original thoughts but have to act like the other person would, in order to avoid suspicions of madness."
"Oh, anything might happen in fairy tales," Mr. Darcy said. "A body swap story does sound very entertaining."
"My daughter did not find it amusing," Mr. Bennet said. "She was mortified at the thought of being mistaken for somebody else, and that gentleman in particular."
"If this sort of a swap really happened one would become rather intimately acquainted with another person's body, and I can see how it might be rather embarrassing for a gently bred maiden," Mr. Darcy said.
"Yes, and for her father as well," Mr. Bennet said. "Thankfully none of that has taken place and likely never will. As a parent, I could not condone any body swaps. The impropriety of the necessary touches, the dishonesty involved in concealing the change, and the uncertainty of when and how one is going to change back… I would be extremely disturbed to lose any of my daughters that way."
"Did they come to any harm?"
"Not physically," Mr. Bennet said. "But the father in the story had no idea that his daughter had been replaced by a stranger."
"So, you could not actually be certain that one of your daughters has not been replaced by a stranger by now," Mr. Darcy said. "It might be that you just have no idea."
Mr. Bennet was dumbfounded for a moment, then he laughed. "Thank you for that, Mr. Darcy. That was one possibility that I was not worried about before I came here, but now I am concerned about that too."
"You are very welcome," Mr. Darcy said. "I believe in being prepared for all eventualities."
"These stories have been a great help in that respect," Mr. Bennet said.
"It seems that these stories of yours are very fanciful and imaginative," Mr. Darcy said.
"I would say there were one or two that were the result of dreadfully misplaced creativity," Mr. Bennet said. "The gross improprieties that were committed by the people in them… I do hope that I am the only person who has read them, as the reputations of certain people bearing the same name as the characters might never recover."
"I am sorry that somebody wrote such scandalous things about your family," Mr. Darcy said.
"Well, there might be a thing or two about your family too," Mr. Bennet said.
"Somebody is slandering my family?"
"Well, it is only slander if it is not true," Mr. Bennet said. "Which I am not qualified to judge. But I thought that you should know that these things are floating out there."
"I am confused," Mr. Darcy said. "I thought you said all this has been written about me. But it is about your family?"
"It seems like the threads of our fates may have been tangled up together when you and Mr. Bingley arrived at Netherfield, and now the Darcy destinies may hang upon events in the Bennet sphere and vice versa," Mr. Bennet said. "So we could say it is about both our families."
"Why? Who would write about us?"
Mr. Bennet shrugged. "You know as much about that as I do. Who would wish to write about us, and why? I have no idea."
"I have always valued my privacy and this seems like a rather disturbing intrusion," Mr. Darcy said.
"I know exactly how you feel," Mr. Bennet said. "Reading about my death over and over again seemed like an attack, and some of the things that have been said about my daughters feel like they were violated. To think that anyone would put these indecent thoughts on paper about young gently bred maidens who never hurt a soul."
"Could it be blackmail?" Mr. Darcy asked. "Is someone threatening to ruin their reputation?"
"No one has asked me for any money," Mr. Bennet said. "But I would certainly hate to see some of this more widely circulated, for fear that someone might believe it is true. It only takes baseless gossip to stain a girl's good name, and being the subject of such salacious tales could launch a thousand on-dits."
"And are you sure that it is all baseless?" Mr. Darcy asked.
Mr. Bennet eyed him sternly. "As a father, I must certainly hope so. But in many cases you would be in the best position to confirm or deny."
"Confirm what?"
"Did you or did you not visit my daughter's bedroom while my two eldest were at Netherfield? Did you stay the night or impose upon her person?"
"Of course not!"
"That is what my daughter said and I am glad to see you agree."
"I take it that these tales cast some aspersions upon my own character," Mr. Darcy said.
"Let us say that some liberties were taken that I would rather not believe," Mr. Bennet said. "If true I would have to insist upon certain countermeasures."
"Oh," said Mr. Darcy.
"Fortunately for you, the number of different versions of the tales makes it more difficult to decide that any one version must be the truth."
"Goodness," said Mr. Darcy. "So you are saying that my reputation is preserved because there are too many stories of my misdeeds? It is certainly the first time I have been in this position."
"Yes, and in some cases, the alleged incident will happen some time in the future. So even if true, are you guilty of it at the present time?"
"I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention," Mr. Darcy said. "If somebody is penning such scandalous accusations about me I should be aware."
"It is not all bad, if that helps," Mr. Bennet said. "For the most part, you are being described as a conscientious estate owner and an honourable man who is scrupulously honest, if a bit abrupt in his manners. But your aunt seems to be a character and your sister lacks some sense."
"Why are my aunt and my sister mentioned in tales about your family?"
"Curious, is it not?" Mr. Bennet said. "To the best of my understanding, it seems like their fate is connected with us through you."
"Your fate and my relatives are connected?" Mr. Darcy echoed. "Why would that be?"
"Long story short, in many of these accounts, my daughter will get to know your aunt next spring, while visiting her friend in Kent, where both you and my daughter will engage in some bad decision making, and I am apt to get killed," Mr. Bennet said.
"Oh, that is terrible," Mr. Darcy said. "But surely I would not wish to do anything to endanger your health."
"I do not mean to accuse you of murder," Mr. Bennet said. "I am collateral damage, my death is not an intentional result."
"That is a relief," Mr. Darcy said. "Sort of."
"There were a couple of tales in which one or more people were stuck magically repeating a day until they got things right and made the right decisions," Mr. Bennet said. "And while the idea was fantastical it got me thinking that the same pattern repeats in the more realistic depictions. These stories make it seem like the universe wants to protect you and my daughter from the effects of your own stupidity."
"To protect me and your daughter from our own stupidity?" Mr. Darcy asked, feeling very stupid indeed. "Which daughter do you mean?"
"Try to guess," Mr. Bennet said. "Pardon me but you two nincompoops seem intent on sabotaging your own happiness. And my death is one way to fix it, so several of the alternative Mr. Bennets in these accounts end up dying, a few months from now."
"So soon?"
"Around Easter, a few months after the Netherfield ball." Mr. Bennet sipped his drink. "You may understand why this is not a desirable future to me."
"You think these stories can be trusted to predict the future?" Mr. Darcy asked sceptically.
"Well, clearly not all of them," Mr. Bennet said. "They could not all predict it correctly at the same time as they predict different things. Some describe forks in the road that we have already passed and calamities that we have already avoided. My wife did not die in childbirth and the girls do not have an abusive stepmother. It is too late for me to play the tyrannical father and force my daughter to marry Mr. Collins. And never did I become a duke, thank goodness."
"Congratulations."
"But several of these accounts have followed our life remarkably closely up until now, and there are so many significant commonalities in what they describe about the future I cannot help but wonder whether there is some element of truth."
"If there are supernatural elements like body swaps and witches they sound more like fairy tales to me, and I would be more likely just disregard them."
"At first I thought the same but then again, where do all these stories come from and how do they know our family secrets? I could not rule out magic as the source," Mr. Bennet said.
"Gossip sheets can be quite vicious these days," Mr. Darcy said. "And I believe servants know almost everything."
"For you, perhaps," Mr. Bennet said. "But never before has my family been interesting enough for anyone to write about us."
"That is precisely what I would wish for," Mr. Darcy said. "A life of responsibility and propriety is hardly interesting for the gossip columnists."
"I do not believe the gossip columnists can be blamed for this," Mr. Bennet said. "Frankly I think it is more likely to be the work of Providence or our fairy godmother than some mischievous human. Perhaps I have been given a glimpse of the future to give me a chance to avoid some of the mistakes I have yet to make."
"Such as what?"
"For one thing, I have learned that allowing Lydia to go to Brighton with the Forsters would be a very bad idea."
"No doubt," Mr. Darcy said. "I know some of these beach towns are quite good places for a young girl to get in trouble."
"I think you do indeed," Mr. Bennet said. "So that is a future I am trying to avert."
"I wish you luck."
"I wonder if there is a book of possible futures for all of us, and when we make decisions we turn to a different page in the book, to continue the story."
"An intriguing idea."
"So this is why I think these stories describe possible futures. There are some common elements that happen in several different accounts that are otherwise not the same. And I cannot help but feel that they are a warning," Mr. Bennet said. "I would be a fool not to heed it."
"Yes, by all means," Mr. Darcy said. "Keeping young girls properly chaperoned is a good idea for anyone, at any time, and I think you should take good care of your health, and be very cautious so you avoid any accidents."
"Certainly," Mr. Bennet said. "But I hope you can help me avoid some further problems."
"I would do what I could but I still do not quite see why I am so closely involved in tales of your family," Mr. Darcy said
"You may have thought me crazy before but this is going to be the really insane part for you, I dare say," Mr. Bennet said.
"Then do go on, I beg you."
"Although my reading was at first concentrated on the dire fates that happened to me, if I am being entirely honest I must say that I could not be considered the protagonist in most of these accounts," Mr. Bennet said. "To a casual reader, wholly unconnected with the family, most of them would appear to be romances. The main source of conflict usually is whether one or more couples get together, and the happy end, if there is one, consists of a wedding. If I was reading novels I would say that the calamities that happen to the Bennet family often function as a plot device to make the female main character reconsider the male main character's worth as a suitor. As the father, I am an expendable minor character and my death will make her less likely to spurn an offer of financial security."
"If the stories are romances focusing on your daughters, have you considered the possibility that they were written by your daughters?"
"I have but I cannot see it as at all likely," Mr. Bennet said. "Longbourn is not a large house and if anyone wrote this much somebody would have noticed. I have certainly not ordered such a lot of writing supplies. Lydia, Kitty and Mary would have been sure to describe themselves in a more flattering manner, and Jane would have described everyone more kindly."
"And Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"If Lizzy had enough wisdom and insight that she could write these stories then we would not likely be in such a pickle," Mr. Bennet said. "But sadly I fear that she is labouring under some misapprehensions that could lead to bad decisions that might take a lot of grief and misfortune to fix."
"I am still not sure what my role in this is."
"It should be clear by now that you are one of the protagonists," Mr. Bennet said.
"I am?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"Yes," Mr. Bennet said. "That is why I decided to share this with you. You, or all those alternative Mr. Darcys, are a very important character, one might say even the hero. The time that you and Mr. Bingley arrived at Netherfield is a significant turning point in the fates of the Bennet family, it seems, and a lot of things may change depending on what you do."
"For the better or for the worse?"
"Again, a bit of both, I should say," Mr. Bennet replied. "You do not know your powers."
"I just wonder…" Mr. Darcy said. "Anyone can make up stories about me, but it does not mean any of the details are true."
"Right, most of the details probably are not," Mr. Bennet said. "For example, you would not believe how many different ways a simple country ball can go wrong in these stories. And most of it clearly did not take place, or the gossips of Meryton would have known about it."
"About mishaps at Bingley's ball?"
"Yes, mostly fanciful I should think," Mr. Bennet said. "So I do not believe the events are necessarily accurate. But I believe in some of the character traits and emotions that come through, things that stay the same across different events unfolding. I think those may point to a heart of truth herein."
"As if these stories somehow describe true personalities and how they would react?" Mr. Darcy seemed thoughtful. "Do you really think it is at all likely?"
"I thought you might not believe me," Mr. Bennet said, and opened the lid of his box. "So I have chosen some texts that I think you should read first."
"Why?"
"Because of what they are saying about you," Mr. Bennet said. "We are not well acquainted but after reading these, I feel like I know exactly who you are. And if you recognize yourself on the pages like I recognized myself, it might take you a long way towards being convinced."
"You think you know me based on a few stories written about me?" Mr. Darcy seemed still sceptical.
"Well, why do you not let me tell you what I think I have learned about you from these pages? To my way of thinking, the things that are repeated in several stories are more likely to be factual. But if I am wrong you could tell me."
"All right," Mr. Darcy said cautiously. "I do not promise to confirm or deny but I am curious to hear how I am perceived."
"Fair enough," Mr. Bennet said. "So, here is what I think that I know. You grew up in Derbyshire, both your parents are dead. Your living relatives include an earl, a cousin who is a colonel, and an aunt in Kent who wants you to marry her daughter because she is too useless to charm anyone else. Your mother was Lady Anne, your father's name might or might not be George. He was never aware that his godson was a no-good rascal. You gave that man three thousand pounds in exchange for a living he did not want but later he has been complaining that you ruined his life. He was hoping to get his hands on your young sister's dowry but you reached Ramsgate in time to prevent an elopement."
"Did Mr. Wickham tell you this?" Mr. Darcy asked angrily. "The man has some nerve slandering my sister after all that our family has done for him."
"No, it all came out during an argument with my daughter," Mr. Bennet said, gesturing at the box. "It is all there in those stories. I really would advise you to take the time to read a few of them."
"If this sort of gossip is out there, I definitely should know," Mr. Darcy agreed.
"Again, I do not think I would call it gossip," Mr. Bennet said. "I consider it more like a premonition."
"Who was the person who told your daughter about Wickham?"
"You," Mr. Bennet said.
"No, I did not."
"More precisely speaking, several of the Mr. Darcys depicted in these stories told her."
"I am sorry but I find that very difficult to believe," Mr. Darcy said. "Supposing that my sister was really planning an elopement, why would I choose to tell anyone in Meryton about it? It might cause a scandal, I do not know whether anyone here is trustworthy, and nobody here needs to know."
Mr. Bennet took a little green notebook out of his crate. "This one is purported to be written in your perspective and might shed some light on your reasoning."
Mr. Darcy accepted the notebook but he did not open it. "Can it truly be called my perspective and my reasoning if I know nothing about those thoughts and conversations and would not make such a decision myself?" he challenged Mr. Bennet.
"Fair enough," Mr. Bennet said. "This one is purported to be written in the perspective of an alternative Mr. Darcy, one who would have those conversations and who would make such decisions. He seemed to think that it was information that was important for my daughter to know."
"Which daughter would that be?" Mr. Darcy asked. "I recall that you have five."
"Come now, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said. "Disingenuity does not become you."
"I beg your pardon?"
Mr. Bennet flipped through a notebook, and then another. "If there is any grain of truth in any of these tales, then you must know exactly which daughter I am talking about."
"Sir, I would not wish to signal any intentions that I do not have," Mr. Darcy said.
"Believe me, I know," Mr. Bennet said. "You have a fondness for my Lizzy and her clever tongue and fine eyes, but you have been struggling against your inclination, trying very hard to hide your fascination, because your illustrious relations want you to marry an heiress and you consider yourself obliged to choose someone from the ton. You think that I am an insignificant country dullard, that my wife is shrill and vulgar and my youngest daughters are embarrassing and silly. My wife's brother is in trade and you have deemed him an undesirable connection, sight unseen, although there is a chance that if you ever met him in person you would deal very well together. Which is why you and your most devoted admirer, the ever-amiable Miss Bingley of the feathers, have been trying to convince Mr. Bingley that my sweet Jane is a fortune hunter, going as far as to deceive him about Jane being in London."
Mr. Darcy nearly choked. "What – when– why — how—?"
"How do I know that?" Mr. Bennet asked. "Your disdain for our family is all well documented, here in these notebooks."
"I have never said that I disdain your family, sir."
"You did not really have to," Mr. Bennet said. "These tales put it in words of four syllables but it was always rather obvious from your demeanour. You refused to dance with Lizzy and to speak with anyone else, and your haughty sneers made you no friends in Meryton."
"I am very sorry if I have offended," Mr. Darcy said stiffly.
"Well, I would not lie to you, I must admit that my pride was a little stung to read what you thought of us," Mr. Bennet said.
"What various alternative, possibly fictional versions of me thought of you."
"Yes, that too," Mr. Bennet said. "But if I am being honest I must admit that a good deal of what you said is perfectly true."
"What I said?"
"Well, what various alternative, possibly fictional versions of you would be telling Lizzy a few months from now," Mr. Bennet amended. "It is true that the behaviour of my family is sometimes lacking in propriety and I should do more to rein in my youngest daughters before they ruin us all."
"I told Miss Elizabeth that her sisters will ruin you all?"
"Not in those exact words," Mr. Bennet said. "But you would tell her that you disapprove of her family and did your best to save your feckless friend from Jane's evil clutches."
"Really?" Mr. Darcy was doubtful. "How would such a topic of conversation ever come up?"
"Disguise of every sort is your abhorrence, apparently," Mr. Bennet said. "As well as tact."
"Excuse me?"
"Tact and diplomacy are the stratagems of the cunning and dishonest, and you believe more in the value of hacking through the table with an axe."
"An axe?"
"I dare say it is more traditional to tell the girl that you are proposing to that she is beautiful, kind and clever but it may be going out of fashion," Mr. Bennet said. "Brutal frankness makes for a more memorable scene."
"You have an interesting sense of humour," Mr. Darcy said.
"If you think I am funny you should read about your first proposal," Mr. Bennet said.
"First proposal?" Mr. Darcy asked. "There were several?"
"This brings us back to my original point," Mr. Bennet said. "Son, you know nothing of women."
"Thank you," Mr. Darcy said.
"In a shocking turn of events, a girl does not wish to have her family insulted during a proposal of marriage."
"You are saying that I proposed to Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"Well, not yet," Mr. Bennet said. "But you will."
"According to these stacks of paper," Mr. Darcy said.
"Yes," Mr. Bennet confirmed. "Not one of your finest days, allegedly."
"And why is that?"
"The argument will be quite acrimonious and leave you both humiliated and miserable."
"Not happily engaged?"
"Not the first time, usually," Mr. Bennet said. "According to most of the stories, she sends you away with a bitter rebuke, although if you persist in being a good, honourable sort of a fellow you might prove yourself to her later."
"I had not imagined that my proposals would be so unwelcome," Mr. Darcy said thoughtfully. "What with Pemberley and my house in town, some ladies have considered me quite the catch."
"No doubt," Mr. Bennet said. "But I imagine if Elizabeth was one of those women who valued you for what you own you would not have liked her half as much."
"I dare say you are right," Mr. Darcy said.
"You could have had Miss Bingley for the asking, at any time," Mr. Bennet said. "Or your cousin, apparently."
"Actually I am not sure," Mr. Darcy said. "My aunt has long desired me to marry my cousin Anne but it is very difficult to tell what Anne wants. She does not often dare to contradict my aunt."
"In any case, I think you have been spoiled for choice," Mr. Bennet said. "But the apples that fall in your lap are never as good as the one you climbed the tree to pick."
"What do you mean?"
"There have been so many willing ladies that you have tried to dodge that it never occurred to you that you might need to make an effort to please a woman worthy of being pleased."
"But if she refused my proposal it does not seem like she wants to be either picked or pleased."
"Well, she is likely to say that you are the last man on earth she could be prevailed upon to marry." Mr. Bennet shrugged. "But it is a woman's prerogative to change her mind every now and then, for a good cause."
"If I start out the last on her list I do not like my odds," Mr. Darcy said. "It must be quite a doomed affair and I should look elsewhere for a wife."
"You could have courted her better," Mr. Bennet said. "But it is not like you to lose hope."
"How would you know?"
Mr. Bennet gestured at the pile of paper again. "After reading all that i feel like I got to know you quite well."
"Yes, it seems that these stories substantiate my character flaws in a rather detailed manner," Mr. Darcy said.
"And your virtues," Mr. Bennet said. "You are steadfast, loyal, honourable and honest. You are diligent in your duties and always willing to help others even if it means great personal sacrifices for yourself. If these stories depict your character at all accurately you would certainly make my Elizabeth very happy one day and I shall be honoured to call you son."
"Thank you," Mr. Darcy said.
"If I am still alive to see it," Mr. Bennet added.
"I hope you see all your daughters very happy one day," Mr. Darcy said.
"If these stories are to be believed, my Lizzy is almost guaranteed a happy ever after. It is as if the universe conspires to see to her happiness, no matter the obstacles she faces."
"When she gets her happy end in those stories, is it always with me?"
"Very nearly so," Mr. Bennet said. "There are a few versions in which she marries someone else but the husbands are likely to be just a detour on the way to an eventual happy end with you."
"The writer must support our pairing," Mr. Darcy said.
"You might be soul mates," Mr. Bennet said. "Soul mates are doomed to vex each other for a lifetime."
"I am not sure I believe in soul mates," Mr. Darcy said.
"Mind you, your cousin the colonel will almost certainly end up dead if he marries my Lizzy so if you love him you might wish to warn him off."
"Miss Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam? They have a similar sense of humour and I could see them dealing well together," Mr. Darcy said. "But it would save time if I just killed him myself."
"The same goes for you," Mr. Bennet said. "If you marry someone else she will die of consumption, drown, fall from a window or get killed in a carriage accident while running away with her lover, so you should only marry ladies that you would prefer dead."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, just reporting my findings," Mr. Bennet said. "If you marry your cousin Miss de Bourgh she is not likely to survive childbirth. Lizzy will make a kind governess for your children but her French pronunciation is atrocious and your mother-in-law is going to hate her."
"Is this a really clever trick in order to convince me to offer for Miss Elizabeth? It seems that an awful lot is being assumed, implied, and taken for granted, but I must tell you that I have not decided to pursue a connection and would not like to have my hand forced."
"I know," Mr. Bennet said. "Your scruples are all well documented in here."
Mr. Darcy took a notebook from the pile and opened it randomly, reading aloud: "The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father:—pardon me,—it pains me to offend you…"
"I gave that one to Lizzy to read as well," Mr. Bennet said. "If I were you I would not offer for her just yet."
"Oh, what did Miss Elizabeth say?"
"She was not best pleased with you," Mr. Bennet admitted. "I made her promise that she would not refuse a proposal but I would not like her to feel her hand was forced either. You need to do some courting."
"I would rather not have a reluctant bride at my wedding," Mr. Darcy said.
"I understand, all the lace is enough tragedy," Mr. Bennet said. "Although most of the stories in which you have a reluctant bride end happily as well."
"What about your other daughters?" Mr. Darcy asked. "You did not say whether they get a happy end."
"I am not sure," Mr. Bennet said. "The things with your feckless friend Bingley are a bit up in the air. If he comes back he is likely to end up happily married and completely besotted with Jane. If he goes away he will marry some snooty friend of Miss Bingley's and Jane might find someone better, perhaps even a viscount or an earl."
"A viscount or an earl?"
"Or a colonel," Mr. Bennet said. "There were stories that paired your cousin the colonel with all of my daughters in turn. He seems like a bit of a rake to me, to be honest, far too fond of any ladies who cross his path."
"I have never noticed that kind of behaviour from him," Mr. Darcy said. "But I am sure any of your daughters who ended up with him would be treated kindly."
"The evidence is inconclusive about Kitty and Mary as several of these accounts omit their fate. But I am rather concerned about Lydia who might be less lucky in love."
"Is she to be left alone or married to the wrong man?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"You know Mr. Wickham?"
"Mr. Wickham is a first class scoundrel and Miss Lydia would be better off under a lock and key than connected to that man in any manner," Mr. Darcy said decisively.
"That is what I thought," Mr. Bennet said. "In several of these stories he entices her to elope with her and I am not quite sure how to prevent it. She is grounded at Longbourn in some of these, yet manages to escape with the blackguard. I have attempted to tell her of the dangers of elopements and hinted that Mr. Wickham may not be of good character. But she is rather impervious to reason and difficult to convince that a handsome man could be a bad husband."
"If he marries her he is already a much better man than I thought," Mr. Darcy said. "While he has been interested in dallying with plenty of ordinary girls, I had thought him to be looking for heiresses to marry. He has expensive habits and a lot of debt."
"Is there anyone who might be interested in pursuing him for his debts? He could not elope if he was in jail."
"Well, perhaps," Mr. Darcy said. "Mind you, he would look more handsome as a war hero. A scar across the cheek and a missing ear would add some gravitas to his boyish good looks."
"The Wellington beauty regimen," Mr. Bennet said.
"Let us see if he can advance in his military career," Mr. Darcy said. "Or maybe we can find someone more dashing to replace him in Miss Lydia's affections. An elopement would certainly not do, and we have to prevent it."
"I agree…" Mr. Bennet said thoughtfully. "It is just that in many of these stories Lydia's elopement was your chance to prove yourself to Lizzy. She liked you a great deal better after finding out you acted kindly and decisively and made great personal sacrifices to help her secretly. And if Lydia does not elope, how can that be achieved?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"No, I am more than a little worried about that, I confess," Mr. Bennet said. "Because the other alternative seems to be that Lizzy likes you a great deal better after finding out you acted kindly and decisively and made great personal sacrifices to help her family after I am dead."
"Oh," Mr. Darcy said.
"I do not want Lydia to ruin her life, and I do not want to die. Which is why I am really hoping that you and Lizzy can figure it out soon."
Mr. Bennet divided the stories into two piles. Looking closer, Mr. Darcy could see there were scribblings in the margins, like some kind of code. "See here, these texts have me walking Elizabeth down the aisle. But look at the other pile. Look at the amount of paper that has been devoted solely on stories that have her father die before she accepts your proposal."
"Oh, indeed, it looks like there are quite a few," Mr. Darcy said hesitantly.
"Like you said, I do not like my odds." Mr. Bennet sighed.
"So what happens to Miss Elizabeth?"
"If she knows that I am dying she might accept a proposal she would otherwise reject, for prudential reasons. Or she becomes a companion or a governess and falls in love with you after she is sure her status is far too low for you to consider marriage," Mr. Bennet said. "It is sure to get more complicated before anything is settled."
"I am beginning to think I should have danced with her at the assembly," Mr. Darcy said.
"You would be married by now," Mr. Bennet said.
"There is a story about that?"
"Several."