Some say opportunity only knocks once, but that is untrue. It may knock any number of times, but each time you do not open the door is one less time that you can take advantage of it
The Wythes declared they were more than happy to host her should she have consent, beginning that very night. Elizabeth explained that she did not even have any clothing, but such was waved away as of no importance. Both young women were similar in size, and it was no great feat to share.
Margaret was fascinated that Elizabeth had four sisters, and doubly excited to borrow one of her own, even if only for a month. Sharing dresses would be much more privilege than chore.
Margaret was only recently returned from school and the Wythes had moved in her absence, so she had no real friends nearby. The family was surprisingly lacking in curiosity about what caused Elizabeth’s predicament. The Wythes assumed there was a man involved, and it would sort itself out eventually. Aside from that supposition, they liked the young lady, so were disinclined to pry. Margaret was so happy to have a new friend, she never gave it a second thought.
Elizabeth knew she had lit a fuse on a powder keg, the fuse short and the explosion large—but she needed time to think and plan. Her second refusal was not likely to be well received at Longbourn, let alone Pemberley; and perhaps Mr Collins was right for once. This could very well be her last proposal of marriage—or not, since she was attracting about three per annum at present.
Either way, she was not of a mind to be forced into anything. She might regret that choice when life became difficult, which might be sooner than she would prefer, but she could not do it. She knew she did not have the strength to spend a lifetime seeking the attention of a man who did not respect her. What happened when his ill-advised infatuation wore off, as it must? What happened when he came to be annoyed rather than charmed by her impertinence, or when her opinions opposed his? What would happen when his friends in the first circles looked down on his wife with disdain? What would happen when the disappointed harpies of the ton began sharpening their knives at her expense and he did not even know what was happening?
Was the offer even still open? What happened when a proposal was not answered? Was this covered in the rules of propriety? How ill-mannered was she to walk out on a man who had just proposed marriage? Was the offer considered open until an answer was given? Was lack of a yes construed as a no; or worse yet, was a lack of rejection considered acceptance? How long before the offer was considered retracted or accepted without an explicit answer? Elizabeth had no idea but needed time and deep reflection to work it out. None of those seemed likely at Gracechurch Street or Longbourn. She could not keep such a thing from Jane or her aunt, and if her mother got a whiff of the idea, she would pack her off to Pemberley within the week.
After some consideration, she answered her host’s question.
“I should be most happy to accept your generous offer, if you are certain it would be no bother. I should be very distressed to cause any difficulties.”
Margaret squealed in delight, and the Wythes smiled their indulgence. They spent the rest of the trip discussing the particulars of how the visit could be arranged without Elizabeth visiting Gracechurch Street, which she was not at all inclined to do, since that would defeat the entire purpose of the scheme. She neglected to explainwhyshe was disinclined to spend a few hours travelling a few miles, and they refrained from asking.
She would write to Jane once the die was cast but she could not make herself do so immediately. She could not let a single person know she was running from a proposal from one of the richest men in England. She just… could… not… even with Jane.
Elizabeth assured the Wythes that a few notes would suffice and further assured them she had sufficient funds to reimburse any expense after the journey, an idea soundly rejected. She was to be their guest, and kindly refrain from further attempts to curtail them in the matter.
The only impediment was that they would be in town for only a week before another journey. She would need to obtain consent to travel with them or return to Gracechurch Street when they left. Mr Wythe explained the journey.
“I visit estates to secure the purchase of wool. It is shearing season. We visited estates this past fortnight, and we have more to visit on the next journey. I like to take the family. The journey takes six weeks, with ample time for sightseeing. I visit the flocks, oversee the shearing, negotiate contracts, and we have days to devote to other amusements.”
Elizabeth could not believe her good fortune, with the perfect situation falling into her lap. She did not deserve her luck, but she would take it. All she need do was obtain permission, which would require the tiniest bit of finesse, but could be managed.
Perhaps at some point during the journey she would determine how to refuse Mr Darcy gently; or more likely, waiting a month or more would solve the problem without requiring an explicit answer.
Lizzy, many of life's little problems just go away if you simply ignore them, so it is best not to panic and overreact.
She was downcast to find she contemplated following the worst of her father’s advice, hard on the heels of her mother’s. They could never again claim she was not a dutiful daughter who never listened.
To distract herself and keep up the conversation required by common civility, Elizabeth asked, “And where, pray tell, is this journey to take us?”
The Wythes appeared self-satisfied, and Mrs Wythe answered for the group.
“We are going to the most wonderful county. I believe you will love its wild and untamed beauty. We shall visit several grand estates in Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth tried not to show her shock and consternation, but after a moment she thought better of the scheme. In Derbyshire, she could learn something of the gentleman without the inconvenience of enduring the man himself, or his disapproving relations. If she could learn more of his defects, she could return to Longbourn justified in her refusal. If she were lucky, she might even learn enough of the gentleman to discover why he was so clearly deranged. Perhaps it was a congenital malady? Derbyshire should do very well for a destination.
Fully aware of the great fortune that she did not deserve raining on her head, she replied, “I am honoured and quite pleased to be invited, and if you remain certain, I will make arrangements.”
Everyone expressed satisfaction with the scheme; they were quite a merry party when they entered their own neighbourhood.
Elizabeth penned vague and slightly misleading notes to Gracechurch Street, Longbourn, and Hunsford. She took the added expense of writing Charlotte express again, since she would be distressed by her absence. Worse yet, Mr Darcy might have reported her departure, which would provoke questions that should neither be asked nor answered, though she suspected Mr Darcy would keep his own counsel. He would make every effort to hide what occurred. What man with even a sliver of pride or sense would tell anyone a woman fled a proposal? No, in the end she thought herself quite safe from detection by Mr Darcy’s friends, so she need only let Charlotte know all was well and trust her to manage her husband and Lady Catherine. She well remembered Charlotte could invent stories for hours, and she had no scruples directing her husband.
Her correspondence complete, Elizabeth retired to Margaret’s room for many hours of excited chatter and few of sleep, wondering what the journey to Derbyshire would teach her.
Pursuit
Halfway between Hunsford Village and Rosings, Darcy slowed from a run to a walk—for several reasons.
He did not wish to incite gossip, or anything else that might involve Rosings in his or Elizabeth’s affairs, nor risk damaging her reputation. He also had his dignity to consider. Running was most unseemly. In the recesses of his mind, he also sheepishly admitted it might be because he was sweating like a pig, panting like a racehorse, and near collapse. He was no athlete, and it was far easier to cover a few miles on horseback than on foot.
By the time he returned to Rosings, he was restored to reasonable regulation in body. His spirit, on the other hand, was battered and bruised. His pride was best left unexamined.
