Mrs. Bennet burst in first and she was practically beaming at me. “Well, congratulations,” she said, and then the other girls, the younger ones whose names I did not even remember, were all around asking me all sorts of questions. When would we get married, would I marry Lizzy—that was what they called her—if she could not walk down the aisle or would I wait until her ankle was healed, where did I wish the wedding breakfast, and would I be inviting my family, and—
“You have not even waited to determine if I said yes!” cried Elizabeth from across the room.
Her mother gave her a withering look. “If you have refused him, I shall never speak to you again.”
Elizabeth huffed. “I have not refused him.”
“Well, good, then,” said her mother. “Very good.”
Mr. Bennet stood outside the doorway, and he beckoned to me.
I made my way out of the gaggle of skirts and chatter to him.
“With me, Mr. Darcy?” he said.
“Of course, sir,” I said, “but there will be time, if we wish to draw up legal documents, I think, and we needn’t—”
“I wish to speak to you,” he said. “Just the two of us. Man to man.”
Oh, wonderful. This was exactly what I wished to do, have a conversation with her father, after everything. Had she told him the things I said to her in that dilapidated house? My stomach turned over.
If I’d had the presence of mind to think of an excuse, I likely would have, and I would have fled the house, telling him that I should speak to him at another time, but I could think of nothing, so I ended up in his study with the man.
His desk was cluttered with all manner of papers and books, most of them open to various pages and turned over, spine up, as if he thought he would be picking them back up to continue reading. Perhaps he would, but there were at least ten of them like that. How many books could he be in the midst of reading at once?
He didn’t sit behind it. Instead, he leaned into the desk and folded his arms over his chest and looked me over. “I’m going to come right to it, sir, and I do not mean any offense by this, but I have to say, I do not think my daughterlikesyou.”
I winced. “I’m aware of that, actually.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Well, under the circumstances, it seems I do her less evil to compel her into a marriage that saves her reputation and her family’s future than I do to leave her be and let these rumors run roughshod over the countryside.”
He only considered me.
“You do not agree, I suppose. You do not wish me to marry her?”
“Lizzy is not easily pleased, you see. And she is a bit fanciful, though she would deny she is. She has a bit of a poet’s soul, I’m afraid, but she also has enough intelligence and practicality to understand that poets often starve. She is doing this for the reasons you say, to mitigate damages from these rumors, but I think she will ultimately regret it. I have experience being married to a woman who wishes she’d married someone who isn’t you, I must say. I cannot recommend it.”
“I’m certain Mrs. Bennet—”
“Oh, believe me, I know what I am saying. You’re the sort of man who could have a wife who would be slavishly grateful to be your wife, the sort of woman who would wake up every day and count herself lucky and blessed to be Mrs. Darcy. My daughterwill never, ever be that, and I’m not sure if you quite understand what it is you are giving up.”
“Perhaps I don’t wish to marry a woman who counts herself so poorly made as to think that I am doing her a favor by marrying her.”
“You are doing Lizzy a favor, though, are you not?”
“I…” I squared my shoulders. “She doesn’t like me, sir, but I like her.”
He laughed. “Oho. Even worse, I should think.” He rubbed his chin. “The rumor will fade. Rumors always do. If you wished to make amends, somehow, though I read your letter and I have spoken to Lizzy, and none of this seems to be your fault, and so it is therefore not your responsibility. But if you did wish to make some kind of amends, there are easier ways. For a man like yourself, adding to her dowry would be nothing to you and would make all the difference to her. In the long run, I can tell you, it would be cheaper than having a wife.” He smirked.
“She’s funny like you are,” I said. “That must be where she gets it.”
“You do like her,” he said.
I was embarrassed. “If you do not wish to give us your blessing, sir—”
“I have not said that,” he said. “Of course I do. I shall not stand in Lizzy’s way. There is no point in such a thing, anyway. She always finds a way through, or around, you see.”
