“He is not a very sociable fellow, that Darcy,” said Mr Bennet. “’Tis one of the things I like best about him.”
“He is a fine man,” Mr Bingley declared, smiling widely at Jane. “It would be impossible to ask for a superior friend. When I informed him I meant to ask for Miss Bennet’s hand today, he said I would be a fool if I did not, and that I could not have made a better choice of bride.”
Jane returned his smile until Kitty’s coughing fit brought forth another lecture from Mrs Bennet regarding her nerves. Talk returned to wedding plans and shopping campaigns, and while fruit tortes, apple cake, and even sugar plums were served, Elizabeth made an effort to eat. It all tasted like dust in her mouth.
She had not needed to go to the folly to see Mr Darcy’s latest kindness; hiding from it, and him, had failed utterly. His goodness had come to her in her own home.
* * *
Mary was entertaining them all with a tune on the pianoforte when Mr Bennet tapped on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Come to the book-room, please,” he murmured.
The blood in Elizabeth’s veins froze in a sudden panic. She imagined fleeing from the room and running for the remainder of her life.
Her father had timed his request perfectly. Elizabeth would not disrupt the evening by showing her defiance. How could she bring darkness to her family while they celebrated Jane’s engagement? She paused to appreciate the way Mr Bingley sat watching his future bride with every sign of contentment. Knowing how overjoyed Jane was, and what a good man he was, gave Elizabeth the strength to endure whatever her father had to impart.
She followed him to his book-room, feeling as though she were headed to the guillotine, despite her resolve. She sat, staring at a point beyond his head.
“Well, Lizzy,” he said, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, “you have done yourself no favours these last two weeks.”
She brought her gaze to his face, wondering if he somehow kneweverythingshe had been doing. Had he followed her to the folly? Never mind that she and Mr Darcy had not been there together except that first time; obviously it was not de rigueur to spend all of one’s time in a folly furnished like a fairy tale cottage, enjoying the comforts placed there by a gentleman few knew she considered a friend.
Her father was not looking at her, but at the ceiling. His fingers were steepled in front of his face—which, contrary to her expectations, showed no signs of anger.
“I do not understand what you mean, Papa.”
His eyes met hers. “You have been wandering about in the out of doors for hours, flitting around to every parish committee as though you fear for your eternal soul, then moping about the house with a hang-dog expression, even refusing to eat. Your mother believes you are coming down with some ailment and wishes to call in Mr Jones.”
His complaints were so patently unfair, that for a moment she was tongue-tied. “You cannot expect me to be overjoyed that I am to be married off to a man old enough to be my grandfather?”
“Thatis a dramatic exaggeration, as you well know,” he said with a condescending smile she despised. “Plainly, giving you time to accustom yourself to the marriage is doing you no good. You asked for a period of reflection, and I agreed, but you have used it to embrace self-pity. You cannot recognise your own best interests. We shall be dining with the Gouldings Friday evening. Your betrothal will be announced to the family then.”
“Friday?” she cried in shock and disbelief. “But it is already Thursday! Surely you could find enough compassion in your soul to wait until after Jane is wed.”
“Your mother plans a prodigiously excessive celebration to accompany Jane’s nuptials. You would not want that, and it would be inappropriate given Goulding’s recent bereavement. He and I are agreed it is best for you to wed quietly and to do it soon.”
“I hate you.” She believed it, too, with every piece of her person.
He closed his eyes briefly, and his voice was rougher than it had been a moment ago. “I would rather have your hatred, knowing you will be well provided for all the days of your life, than retain your affection knowing it is accompanied by an uncertain future.”
“Spare me whatever stories you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night,” she hissed. “You are not insisting on this for my sake or that of my mother and sisters. Jane will soon be well-married. I shall always have a home with her. You know as well as I do that Mr Bingley is an excellent man. He will ensure my mother and sisters have everything they require. Mary might accept Mr Collins, and Mama would not even have to leave Longbourn. This hasnothingto do with what is best for me and everything to do with your irresponsible, selfish behaviour. What possessed you to put yourself into so much debt? You are no better than Mr Wickham!”
His expression turned to granite. “You believe you will never wish for a home of your own, that you would not enjoy being mistress of your own future? You do not know yourself. The vicar has already been informed. The first banns will be called this Sunday. We will not discuss this further. Go.” He pointed at the door.
His mind was made up, and she would have no further reprieve. Without another word, she stalked from the room.
Elizabeth lay awake all night long, staring at a shrinking candle until it sputtered out. At first light, she dressed in her warmest clothing and quietly left the house before her father was likely to have left his rooms. She was determined to arrive at the folly early and send a message with the servant who lit the fires that she needed, desperately and at all costs, to speak to Mr Darcy.
I am going to run away. I shall take a position as a governess or a-a bootblack. Mr Darcy will agree to give me a reference.Papa cannot threaten Jane with unwanted matrimony now that she has accepted Mr Bingley’s suit. My life shall be my own, however lowly.
One phrase rang as a drumbeat in her head:I cannot, I cannot, Iwillnot!
However, when she reached the folly at last, no fires burned. “No!” she screamed aloud to the empty room, throwing herself to the hearth rug before its barren, cold grate. “No! You cannot leave me alone now, when I need you most!” The sobs she had been unable to free in the night tore from her, and she simply let them come, crying until she was spent and sore.
The morning’s panic diminished with her tears.
I ought to have expected this, she thought.I have never been here this early.Picking herself up off the floor, she flung off her hat, wrapped herself in the woollen shawl, huddled onto the chaise, and stared at the bleak hearths.
