“I appreciate the offer but prefer to continue on my own. Sooner or later, I must face him. I imagine the proposal has expired by now, but I owe him a straight answer, and I owe it to myself to understand what I have either avoided or squandered.”
“You seem to discount the possibility ofacceptance, Lizzy?”
“Do you really believe a man who proposed marriage to a woman who would not answer and hid for several months, would not have retracted the offer, Margie?”
“Ho-Ho-Ho!” Mr Wythe laughed.
Elizabeth stared in consternation, while the gentleman laughed some more.
He glanced at his wife. “You do not understand an engaged heart yet. My Dorothy accepted my first proposal, but had she denied me, it would only have delayed the inevitable. I suspect that if your lunkhead is anything akin to a man truly in love, that two months or two years would only inconvenience him. I believe the offer to still be open.”
Elizabeth just stared, but the gentleman had not finished.
“Think on this. Suppose I snap my fingers, and you are Mrs Darcy. What would happen when you went to Town to join the first circles?”
Elizabeth tried to picture it. For several minutes she considered the prospect, her face falling with every passing moment.
“I have considered that, though not deeply. I imagine it might be difficult. Every matchmaker and daughter in the first circles will assume I compromised him, or some such nonsense. Some will accept me, but many will disparage me, either to my face or behind my back.”
Mr Wythe leaned forward again, and said carefully, “Let us giveLogistikonfree rein. Presume that instead of a hawk, your Mr Darcy is more akin to a tasty hare. All those matchmakers must have been circling like vultures foryears. Might such a man be not quite so acquainted withThumosas a person with a more typical upbringing?”
Elizabeth thought about it for some time before finally nodding.
Very gently, the father said, “And is it even remotely possible that such a man, under the unanticipated thrall of Thumos or Eros or whatever you want to call his particular malady,mightfeel it hisdutyto acquaint you with the snake pit he proposes to drag you into?”
Elizabeth gasped at the notion, but then decided she should take it seriously. She thought furiously, while Mr Wythe took out his pipe and began tamping down the tobacco, and the ladies called for more tea.
After some time, Mr Wythe asked, “Any thoughts?”
“Only that you should call me Lizzy after all this.”
“It will be our privilege.”
“And… and… well…Logistikonsuggests the slim possibility that he was in earnest, but simply terrible at proposals. It is not something that can be taught well, nor practised.”
Everyone laughed heartily and they moved on to lighter topics for the rest of the evening.
After more tea and biscuits, they started preparing for their beds.
Mr Wythe said, “You are aware, Lizzy, that Pemberley is but thirty miles to the east. We could stop there if you like.”
Elizabeth gasped, started. “Yes, that will work. I shall just speak with the housekeeper and say, ‘Good day, I am Elizabeth Bennet. Your master proposed to me, and I refused to answer, but if you do not mind, I would stay a while so I can interrogate you.’ That will work!”
With a laugh, they all retired. Lizzy knew there was one estate in Derbyshire where she would not be going, but after all this thought and discussion, she thought she might just let her twenty-first birthday elapse, then return to Longbourn and see if he eventually appeared.
Yes, that would work
Vernon
Lizzy, you will never understand your father until you can imaginea brilliant but socially naïve young man being thoroughly outclassed by an uneducated barrister’s daughter; thus, ending up marrying great beauty but living with silliness.
You will never understand your mother until you can imagine a woman who got everything she ever thought she wanted in her young life; but ended up with a husband who ignores and belittles her, whilst not lifting a finger to actually help.
Further imagine a woman who thinks her chief duty in life was to bear a son, but got five daughters for her trouble, none of which seem willing to get themselves out from under her roof, according to her understanding of how the world should work.
Uncle Gardiner’s intervention with a headstrong and stubborn fifteen-year-old Elizabeth, fresh from a screaming fit with her mother about ‘coming out to capture a husband,’ had soothed her feathers enough to make her think things through just a bit more. She still never quiteagreedwith her mother on everything, but she at least eventually mostlyunderstoodher.
The conversation returned to her mind almost immediately after she dragged her body, weary from a night of tossing and turning, into the coach for the trip to the Vernon estate via the small village of Sudbury. She had been told Sudbury was like Meryton or Kympton. Mrs Wythe mentioned they had some shopping there that would be quite enjoyable, as the proprietor carried goods that werenotFrench, and definitelynotsmuggled, but otherwise fascinating.
