Elizabeth was the only daughter he would allow to use such a tone when speaking to him—he would not even tolerate it from his wife—but it did not prevent him from frowning at her. “Your opinion is different?”
“Lydia going to Brighton might prove our undoing, Papa. Mrs. Forster is no fit chaperone; there is no telling what Lydia might do to ruin us all.”
“I rather think she will discover her own insignificance,” replied Mr. Bennet. He put his book to the side and fixed his attention on Elizabeth. “She has not the means to become a target for fortune hunters; any man of sense would wish to stay scrupulously away from any hint of scandal, for who would wish to be tied to a silly little flirt forever?”
“Yet, I believe there are many men who believe they would suffer no consequences for dallying with her.”
“The danger is minimal,” disagreed her father. “Now that Mrs. Forster has issued the invitation, if I forbid Lydia from going, she will make our lives all miserable. Do you wish to endure her screeching from sunup until sundown for who knows how long?”
Elizabeth reviewed the arguments in her mind. Telling him of her suspicions of Lydia’s improper means of provoking the invitation would only amuse him, and an appeal to the likelihood of her ruining them had already failed. Wickham was gone, so any appeal with the information of his bad conduct would not work. There was only one avenue she could think of that might bear fruit.
“I apologize for speaking so frankly, Papa, but it cannot be helped.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes widened as Elizabeth took a deep breath, steeling herself to make her case.
“Do you not understand, Papa, what a great disadvantage such an unrestrained and improper sister must be to us all? Can you not see that she treads the very edge of ruining us, such that Mama’s desperate need to see us all married may not come to pass?”
It was several moments before Mr. Bennet replied, for he regarded her as if trying to make her out. “Might I assume you speak of something particular? Has your sister frightened away one of your lovers?” He attempted a grin, though Elizabeth could see that he did not offer it with his usual mirth. “If she has, Iadvise you to forget him, for any man who cannot withstand a little of the ridiculous is not worthy of you.”
“No, Papa,” replied Elizabeth, not reacting at all to his jest. “I have had no suitors of late as you well know. Resentment is notmine, but another’s.”
Mr. Bennet was no dullard, for he caught her inference at once. “Might I assume you speak of Jane’s recent adventure into the quagmire of romance?”
“I do, Papa,” said Elizabeth. “As I spent the spring in Kent, Mr. Darcy visited his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh while I was there. Mr. Darcy inferred Mr. Bingley’s failure to return for Jane was the unrestrained behavior of certain members of our family.”
Eyes wide at her revelation, Mr. Bennet stared at her. It was, Elizabeth supposed, a leap, for Mr. Darcy had not been explicit. The implication of his words, however, was unmistakable, such that Elizabeth thought herself entirely justified in her extrapolation.
“I cannot imagine how such a subject arose between you,” said her father at length. “As far as I was aware, you and the gentleman could not exchange more than the barest of civilities without arguing.”
“That is irrelevant, Papa,” said Elizabeth. Nothing could induce her to speak of the scene in the parsonage’s parlor. Distasteful though it was, she would invent something if her father pressed her.
“I suppose it is,” conceded he. “Mr. Bingley did not appreciate the antics of my youngest?”
“I think Mr. Bingley might have overlooked it,” replied Elizabeth. “But Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley’s sisters are more judgmental than Mr. Bingley.”
Mr. Bennet nodded thoughtfully. Then he shook his head and sighed.
“What I told you of Lydia’s behavior should I deny her is nothing less than the truth, Lizzy. It will become impossible to live with her. I may need to send her to a nunnery just to get a little peace.”
“Is it not better to endure her childish tantrums than risk our family’s reputation?”
A grimace was Mr. Bennet’s response. “If the danger is as profound as you believe.”
When Elizabeth tried to speak, Mr. Bennet waved her to silence. “I am not witless, you know. Idounderstand the risks, though I am not as convinced as to their extent as you are.”
Elizabeth nodded but did not speak. She had done what she could. It was now in her father’s hands.
“Allow me to think on the subject for a time, Lizzy,” replied Mr. Bennet. “When I decide, I shall inform you.
“Thank you, Papa,” said Elizabeth.
Though Bingley was an excellent friend, the man who could lay claim to the title of “best” friend was his cousin, Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam of His Majesty’s Dragoons. Fitzwilliam was of age with Darcy, possessed the same open cheeriness that characterized Bingley’s manners, and knew Darcy better than any other. As his post had been in London for some time—much to his mother’s relief—Fitzwilliam was often in Darcy’s company. One day, not long after Bingley announced his departure for the north, Fitzwilliam visited his cousins, spending an evening dining with them.
One other facet of his character was his tendency to tease Darcy whenever he felt he could provoke him, a habit that had provided Darcy with much embarrassment. While Fitzwilliam was in his usual form that evening, his provocations were more thought-provoking than mortifying.
“I am surprised to see you still in London, Cousin,” saidFitzwilliam when they retired to the sitting-room after dinner. “You usually depart for Pemberley at the first available opportunity.”
Darcy shrugged. “Travel to Pemberley also consumes three uncomfortable days in the carriage. It is a simple matter to stay home and avoid society and the city is still comfortable.”
