Chapter 2
Elizabeth’s worries
about becoming the new Mrs. Collins did not live long. Her father ignored her
mother’s insistences and cries of indignation, and supported Elizabeth in her decision
of refusing Mr. Collins’ proposal. The rejected parson decided to leave
the Bennet’s household and found refuge at Lucas Lodge, where he, after
only a few days of enjoying their hospitality, turned his attention towards
Charlotte Lucas.
The news about the departure
of the Netherfield party came in the shape of a note that Miss Bingley sent to
‘dearest’ Jane. It was a short missive in which Caroline expressed
her delight at being able to finally return to Town, and where she made it
clear that she had no intention of ever returning to Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth, though surprised
by the suddenness of their removal, saw nothing there to lament. This meant
that the inscrutable Mr. Darcy was not in the neighbourhood anymore and that
Jane, upon Mr. Bingley’s return, would be able to see her intended
without the vigilance of his sisters or his friend.
But Jane’s
interpretation of the letter was entirely different from that of her
sister’s. Nothing in Caroline’s lines assured her that Mr. Bingley
fostered plans to come back to Netherfield in the near future. Jane’s
construction of Miss Bingley’s message left her with little doubts that
their departure was definitive. She was inclined to believe that Mr. Bingley
had some other interests in mind that would keep him entertained in London.
“The passage that particularly
hurts me is the one where she mentions Miss Darcy,” said Jane after
reading the first lines of the letter. “Evidently, Miss Caroline aspires
to become her sister. It is now clear to me that she neither expects nor wishes
me to marry her brother. She is perfectly convinced of Mr Bingley’s
indifference towards me and, suspecting the nature of my feelings for him, she
is kindly putting me on my guard.”
“I think it is exactly
the opposite. Miss Bingley knows that her brother loves you and sees you as a
threat to her designs to join the Darcy family.”
Jane shook her head. “It
cannot be.”
“Jane, we are neither
rich enough nor grand enough for them. That is why she urged him to return to London. You pose an
obstacle to her plans of becoming a member of the Darcy family. What best way
to dissuade him than keeping him as far away from you as
possible?”
“Then, how can I have
expectations about him when his own sisters wish him to be married to someone
else?”
“You should not care
about what they think, Jane. Mr. Bingley will come back to ask you to marry him
and then you will prove Caroline that she was wrong.”
“Oh, Lizzy!” Jane
embraced her sister as her anguish took the best of her, “The whole
winter! So many things may happen in three months!”
Elizabeth gave her sister a
comforting embrace. It broke her heart to see Jane in such misery but there was
not much she could do to change what had happened. Her only hope was that Mr.
Bingley would be man enough to ignore his sisters’ influence and return
to Netherfield to continue his pursuit of Jane’s heart.
Days passed slowly after that.
Winter was upon them and there was not much the family could do to entertain
themselves except reading, embroidering and taking an occasional walk into the village.
For a few days, even when Elizabeth
had not mentioned her encounter with Mr. Darcy to another living soul, she was
on pins and needles in worry that it would somehow become public. She had this
unpleasant sensation that one morning she would wake up to an angry father
ready to confront her about the incident and that the entire village would be
pointing their fingers at her and doubting her morality.
Equally distressing where her
thoughts of the gentleman that had put her in such a delicate position. Her
recollection of their encounter in the woods and the sensations it awakened
were so tumultuous and contradictory that they barely allowed her to sleep.
There was anger for sure, and remorse, but also confusion for sentiments she
knew she should dismiss as inappropriate but which infused too much heat into
her veins, making the task of forgoing them impossible. There were times when
her lips tingled at the memory of that kiss, when the mere recollection of his
lips pressed against hers was enough to build a powerful warmth that would
start in her stomach and then spread over her chest.
She could not understand why
this gentleman occupied such a predominant space in her mind. Elizabeth knew in her heart that she did not
like him, that she could never admire a man like Mr. Darcy. Not that she
considered him ill-favoured, no. In fact, Elizabeth
could not disallow the handsomeness of his features or the attractiveness of
his physique yet these inarguable attributes were not enough to compensate his flaws.
The gentleman was proud –inappropriately proud--, arrogant and rude.
Undeniably, he was the owner of a sharp wit, his movements were full of manly
grace, even his handwriting –she spied once a letter he was writing to
his sister—was clear and neat. Yet all these positive traits inherent to
his person paled when faced to faults of character so evident that could be
neither overlooked nor forgiven. His honour had been questioned several times
and his true nature had been exposed in both his deals with Wickham and in his
assault to her person.
As days progressed, the
memories of that encounter started to fade. Elizabeth became her usual self once again,
free from preoccupations about indecent encounters or images that should never
be part of a young lady’s thoughts. But, this brief time of happiness did
not last long. Ten days after the gentleman had left Hertfordshire; her worst
nightmare finally became true.
Elizabeth was in Meryton on
an errand for her mother, blissfully ignorant of the rumour that had been
spread over the village like the outbreak of a bad disease. She noticed some
signs that something was wrong along the way, but Elizabeth never connected the ill disposition
of the villagers with her presence there. Mr. Owen, the milliner, usually a
very amiable man, barely spoke two words to her. Judgemental eyes followed her
everywhere. But what ensued after she reached home was even worse.
Longbourn was in uproar when Elizabeth arrived at the house.
Mrs. Bennet was lying on the sofa crying in earnest while Mrs. Phillips tried
to comfort her.
“Oh, sister! She is our
ruin! Lizzy will ruin us all! First she refuses Mr. Collins and now she is Mr.
Darcy’s mistress!”
Elizabeth hastily approached
her mother “Mama, what happened?”
“You should be ashamed
of yourself, Lizzy.” Mrs. Phillips turned around with a furrowed brow.
“We never expected such horrid behaviour from you! It is a fortune that
the gentleman implied is not one of those reckless soldiers!”
“What?” cried Elizabeth. “I
don’t understand!”
“Do not pretend to be
innocent,” her aunt rejoined. “You and your lover have been
unmasked!”
Elizabeth paled at the
accusation, guessing the subject that caused such a dramatic scene. “It cannot
be …”
Mrs. Phillips returned her
attention to her sister, whose hand she was patting energetically. “You
must stay calm, Fanny, or you will suffer a stroke. See? Lizzy says it cannot
be. I am certain that this was a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? There
is no misunderstanding!” shrieked Mrs. Bennet. “They were seen
together in the woods! Kissing of all things!”
“Then,” Mrs.
Philips replied with the solemnity the case demanded, “Measures should be
taken. Something should be done to rectify this calamity.”
It took Mrs. Bennet a moment
to interpret her sister’s words and understand what this suggestion
implied, but as soon as she guessed her meaning, Mrs. Bennet’s
calculating mind was awakened and she forgot of despair and fatality and quickly
saw a way to obtain profit from this crisis. Smelling salts were pushed aside
and the servants fanning their mistress were dismissed. She sat up, her face
lit up at her good fortune.
“They must get
married!” she gasped. “Oh, sister! What a wonderful idea! Mr.
Bennet must run post haste to London
and make that man marry my Lizzy!”
Mrs. Philips was startled for
an instant, but soon saw the wisdom –and the opportunity-- in her
sister’s declaration. With five daughters to get rid of, what best than
use this situation to marry one of them off? And to a rich man like Mr. Darcy,
of all means! Perhaps this was not the best way to do it, but as she already
knew, there was no scandal that could not be covered with a few coins.
“Indeed he should,
Fanny. That man should be called on his recklessness.”
Mrs. Bennet clapped
enthusiastically. “We shall have a winter wedding!”
Elizabeth witnessed the
scene with stupor. The entire village knew of her misfortune and her most mercenary
parent saw her disgrace as a vein from where she could extract gold.
But Elizabeth knew that this was not the end of
the matter. There was one more person she would need to confront. She glanced
at her father’s study and saw him standing by the threshold, glaring at
her with stern and jaundiced eyes. No invitation needed to be voiced. Elizabeth lowered her
head and headed for her father’s sanctuary as scared and penitent as a
prisoner taking his last steps to the gallows. The door was closed behind her
and Elizabeth
steeled herself for the worse.
“Is this true,
Lizzy?” Mr. Bennet asked. While he had been determined to give her the
chance to explain, his words failed to conceal his disappointment.
Elizabeth could hardly
speak. What was there to tell? She could not accuse Mr Darcy of abusing her,
could she?
“Father,” she
began, and in a submissive and remorseful tone, she told him about the argument
she had with her mother because of her refusal of Mr. Collins’ proposal
and how she happened upon Mr. Darcy in her escape. Mr. Bennet listened quietly,
hands clasped behind his back, his countenance grave.
His reaction to this woeful
tale was not what Elizabeth
had expected. There was no anger or spite, or ill-tempered shouting, just the
bitter disappointment of a parent who had just seen the downfall of his
favourite child.
“So ... you accepted his
kiss,” her father affirmed, saddened by her confession.
“Yes, for an instant ...
once I realized what was happening, I pushed him away. I’m so sorry,
papa, it was a wretched mistake. I don’t know what came over
us.”
Mr. Bennet rubbed his fingers
on his forehead in an attempt to think of the best solution to their dilemma.
With a sigh, he thus proceeded. “Very well, child, we shall discuss this no
further. What is done is done and there is nothing we can do to change it. Your
reputation has been seriously compromised. I fear your mother is right. I must
sojourn to London
and have a serious conversation with Mr. Darcy. I only hope he is a man of honour
and that he accepts his duty.”
For the second time that day, Elizabeth thought her
heart would stop. “Are you contriving for me to marry him?”
“I have no other choice,
Elizabeth.”
“There must be another
way.” Elizabeth
insisted with increasing desperation. “I could travel to London. I can live with my aunt and uncle for
the winter. I’m most certain they will take me in. Everything will be
forgotten when I come back!”
“The matter is finished,
Elizabeth. As much
as it pains me, I see no other way to solve this without disgracing us all. I
shall depart for London
tomorrow morning.”
The definiteness in her
father’s voice told Elizabeth
that was the end of their colloquy. She bowed her head, tears brimming her
eyes, in silent submission.
“Go now,” he
dismissed her, “stay in your room. I shall deal with your mother
myself.”
Elizabeth obeyed. When she
reached her bedchamber, she flopped herself on her bed and cried until she fell
asleep.
London’s agitated
life did very little to distract Darcy. When the excitement of the arrival
passed and he fell once again in a tedious routine, he grew uninterested of his
surroundings even when faced with the diversity of amusements that the social
season offered.
Bingley was in no different
state. His mood was quite dull lately and Darcy found it impossible to cheer
him up. He was constantly mentioning Netherfield and Miss Jane in their
conversations despite Darcy’s efforts to deflect their chats towards safer
subjects. The Bingley sisters, on the other hand, were more direct when the
name of a certain lady was mentioned and would usually dismiss the topic as
tedious and unsuitable to their liking. Poor Bingley, with no one to share his
misery and overwhelmed by the memories of his beloved, decided to leave Town
and depart for Conwy, his cousin’s estate where he would stay for the
rest of the winter.
His friend’s lowness of
spirit and sudden departure made Darcy reflect upon his own actions, forcing
him to reconsider the advice he gave Bingley regarding Miss Jane Bennet.
Bingley was displaying an unusual consistency in his affection for the lady
–Darcy never imagined it would last beyond the carriage ride to London- so perhaps it was
true love from his friend’s part. If Bingley’s love survived the
winter, maybe it would be convenient to let the lovers reunite and allow things
to progress on their own. But if Bingley had forgotten the subject upon his
return from Wales,
then Darcy would be proved right and Miss Jane Bennet would become just another
name in the long list of women with whom Charles Bingley had been
infatuated.
Two days after Bingley’s
departure Darcy found a visitor waiting for him at his Townhouse when he
arrived home after spending the morning in his club.
“Richard!” Darcy
smiled at his cousin, Col. Richard Fitzwilliam. “I thought you were in Scotland. What
a pleasure to have you here.”
The cousins shook hands. Darcy
poured two glasses of port and handed one to Richard as they sat down to
converse about the latest news.
“What brings you to London?”
“My regiment is encamped
in ---shire for the remaining of the month so I decided to pay you a visit. I
must join them in two days time. Tell me Darcy, how was your stay in Hertfordshire?”
inquired the colonel.
“Nothing out of the
ordinary.” Darcy shrugged. “These small villages are very much
alike.”
“When will you learn to
enjoy yourself, cousin?” the colonel chuckled, “I thought that
spending more time in Bingley’s company would liven you
up.”
“Bingley’s spirits
had been uncommonly low these days.”
Fitzwilliam’s brows
frowned with concern, for he knew Bingley to be a cheerful fellow. “Is
anything the matter with him? Is he in good health?”
“Yes, he is in good
health, but his heart has suffered another disappointment.”
The colonel smirked.
“Yet again?”
“He is travelling to Wales for the
winter, trying to forget this young lady he met in Hertfordshire.”
Darcy’s eyes were fixed on the hearth as he spoke.
“He’ll forget her
within the blink of an eye, as he always does.”
“I fear in this case it
might not be as easy as we think.”
“If that’s the
case and his affection is real, then why must he forget her?”
“Well…. the lady
was not appropriate for him.” Without giving away many details, Darcy
told his cousin the story Bingley and the beautiful girl he met during their
stay in Netherfield
Park.
Three days after Col.
Fitzwilliam’s departure Darcy found himself alone in his townhouse reading
the letters his steward had sent him to update him with the latest news from
Pemberley, his estate in Derbyshire. His sister Georgiana was in Bath, visiting some
acquaintances and with Bingley out of town, Darcy’s outings were
restricted to his club and an occasional walk in the park.
Many of his acquaintances were
already there; invitations for dinners and other events weren’t lacking
yet all these exclusive and supposedly interesting events were dismissed as
boring and unattractive. To complete the unpleasant picture, Darcy’s mere
presence in Town was enough to situate him once again in the centre of the
husband hunting market, making him the object of desire of ambitious mothers
that wanted to secure the future of their daughters. The Season was politics
adorned with feathers and lace. Everyone talked about everyone, backgrounds and
connections were investigated and compared and young ladies were exhibited by
their mothers like mares at Tattersalls (*).
Even surrounded by the most
beautiful women of this country, Darcy could not stop thinking of the young
girl he had met during his visit to Hertfordshire. Every lady he was introduced
to seemed unattractive and unqualified when opposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
None of them had her liveliness of spirit, her natural beauty or her sparkling
wit. Even those of superior breeding, ‘accomplished’ according to
Miss Bingley standards, failed in comparison with the enchanting Miss Bennet.
He knew the incident was still fresh in his mind, yet despite his greatest
efforts to leave it behind, there was not a day he could pass without
remembering their kiss in the woods or night where she would not show herself
in his bedroom while he slept. The woman had to be a sorceress, Darcy
reflected, as there was no other possible explanation for this long lasting
infatuation. What kind of spell had his nymph cast on him?
Darcy’s reverie was
interrupted by a knock at the door. It was his butler, announcing there was a
gentleman requesting an audience with him.
“I’m not expecting
anyone. Did the gentleman give you his name?”
“Mr. Thomas Bennet,
sir.”
Darcy’s mind went blank
for an instant but soon it was flooded by hundreds of images which he would
have wished never to be compelled to face. He could only conjure on one reason
that could have brought Mr. Bennet to knock at his door and with no little
trepidation he realized that his worst nightmare had just come to life. With a
few differences, this incident resembled what he had suffered in Ramsgate and
very much alike that case, the mishap had reached the ears of the
victim’s guardian. The first occurrence had been resolved with a generous
check; would Mr. Bennet require a pecuniary compensation for the inconvenience
as well? Darcy was at loss as what to believe. He knew he was not blameless in
this affair yet he found himself wishing the man that he was about to face did
not have a mercenary inclination. He was also aware that simple minds
were easily corrupted and was certain that if Mr. Bennet’s was not of the
mind of requesting a lieu, his calculating wife had surely instructed him with
the numerous advantages they could obtain from this transaction if they played
their cards well.
“Sir?” the butler
insisted.
Darcy looked up, startled.
“Show him into the parlour, I shall be there in a moment.”
The gentleman squared his
shoulders and straightened his tailcoat. With a deep intake of breath, he
headed to the parlour, praying that the other man was not carrying his shotgun
with him.
Mr. Bennet waited in the
parlour of the Darcy townhouse with increasing uneasiness. He had come to
London with one sole purpose in mind, and that was confronting the man who had
taken unwanted liberties with his second eldest daughter and to
‘negotiate’ a reparation for the damage the gentleman’s
conduct caused to his child’s reputation. His choices on the matter were
scarce and unappealing and he knew in his heart that whatever the outcome of
this meeting was, he would never be completely satisfied by it. It would be either
disgrace to his name and family if the gentleman refused to accept his
obligation, or to see his most beloved child married to a man she could neither
love nor respect.
Mr. Bennet was not foreign to
the knowledge that there was not much he could do if Darcy refused to comply
with his request to marry his daughter. Calling him to a duel was not an
acceptable choice for the elder gentleman, as he knew that he would never
survive a match against the young and athletic Mr. Darcy.
He was also aware of the fact
that Darcy could very well choose to fulfil his obligation in different ways
–in case he admitted his wrong- without feeling the necessity of marrying
his daughter. He could offer to employ her as a governess in his estate or even
to marry her to an acquaintance who owed him a favour. Granted, Mr. Bennet did
not want his Lizzy to suffer such cruel fate. As a father, it was his
obligation to protect her and assure her the best possible future under the
circumstances. Even if his heart told him that he should slap that air of
superiority from Darcy’s face, he knew he had to be smart and patient and
that he needed to come to an understanding with the younger gentleman if he
wanted this subject to be resolved to his satisfaction.
“Mr. Bennet, it is a
pleasure to see you again.” Darcy entered the library and saluted his
visitor with a polite bow.
“I wish I could say the
same, sir. You can be certain that my presence here is anything but pleasurable
to me,” Mr. Bennet stood firm.
Darcy maintained his composure
despite the unfriendly greeting. “I can imagine the reason that brings
you here. Be certain I am at your service.” He gestured to the decanter
and said, “Would you like something to drink before we start?”
Mr. Bennet studied his
opponent for an instant. At least he was not pretending the
‘incident’ did not happen. “Yes, thank
you.”
“Port or
brandy?”
“Brandy, Sir. I think
that we will both need something strong.”
Darcy poured the drinks. He
gave Mr. Bennet his goblet and gestured his guest toward a comfortable arm
chair.
Mr. Bennet kindly refused to
seat. Instead he squared his shoulders and went directly to the point. “I
have been informed that you and my second eldest daughter have had a very
improper encounter before your hasty departure from Hertfordshire. That you
somehow” ---he paused here – “imposed on her. What do you
have to say?”
“Unfortunately, sir, it
is the absolute truth,” Darcy said with contrition. “Be not
alarmed, sir. You have my word as a gentleman that my behaviour, though
blameworthy, had not compromised your daughter’s virtue in any
way.”
Mr Bennet felt a rush of anger
in his veins at the young man’s hypocrisy. How dared he talk of the word
of a gentleman! “My daughter informed me of what transpired between the
two of you. Her version agrees with yours, that it was merely a stolen kiss,
but that does not make the circumstance less reproachable.” He paused to
observe Darcy’s reaction, though his expression remained unreadable.
“I shall go to the point. You were discovered, sir, and my
daughter’s honour was compromised.”
Darcy’s face blanched.
“This is a very unfortunate circumstance, indeed. It was never my
intention to importune your daughter, sir. I wholeheartedly apologize.”
Mr Bennet lost all the
composure that he could have withstanding. “Mr. Darcy, your apology is of
no use in this case. This ‘unfortunate’ mishap as you so lightly
describe it has seriously damaged my daughter’s reputation. You were seen
by others, sir, and those who witnessed your actions had no scruples informing
the rest of the village of the occurrence. As I have already stated, my
daughter’s reputation has been practically ruined and if you do not care
to do anything to repair this ‘unfortunate circumstance’, I fear
the ‘circumstance’ will affect her life forever.”
Darcy remained silent, looking
at the elder man without uttering a word.
“Mr. Darcy,” Mr.
Bennet continued. “I came to London
not for one minute doubting that you, sir, are indeed a man of honour. My
daughter’s welfare or complete disgrace is in your hands. Now what are
you going to do?”
The young gentleman walked
towards the window and stared outside for a moment, trying to gather his
thoughts. Mr. Bennet was not merely requesting a compensation for his
daughter’s misfortune; he wanted her honour to be restored. And there was
only way to accomplish that: marrying her to the gentleman that had put her
morality in question thus cleaning her name and that of her family.
He had never imagined he would
find himself in a predicament such as this. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of
Pemberley, proud of his name and position, but whenever Miss Elizabeth Bennet
was concerned, his superior breeding and self-control faded away and he was
just a man exposed by the raw intensity of his feelings. He had always set very
high standards for himself and was proud of his accomplishments, still in this
case, he had failed. A moment of weakness had allowed his emotions to rule over
his reason and miserably affected another human being, one that happened to be
a woman he admired, the woman that, until now, he did not permit himself to
love.
I came to London to forget her and now here is her father
requesting me to marry her. Would that be such an ill fate? Darcy reflected
introspectively. Certainly, it was not. He did not see anything fateful or
wrong about marrying the beautiful Miss Elizabeth Bennet. On the contrary, the
mere idea of espousing her was becoming increasingly attractive.
Darcy turned slowly and faced
the elder man, his decision made. “Mr. Bennet, I suppose that you are
suggesting that I must marry your daughter in order to preserve her
honour.”
“Indeed I am, sir, and I
am happy that we understand each other so well.”
Even on the verge of admitting
defeat and granting the other man his wish, Darcy could not repress his absurd
pride. “Mr. Bennet, as you know, my position in society is very much
above the one of your family and you can imagine how much it will be affected
if the news of this ‘incident’ is spread into my social
circles.”
“Yes sir, I am aware of
that.” Mr. Bennet answered, waiting for his foe to elaborate more on the
subject. This was not the moment to loose his temper.
“As you said before, I
am a man of honour. I was raised with good principles and have followed them
all my life. As a man that takes full responsibility for his actions, I inform
you that I know my duty. I will marry your daughter, Mr. Bennet.”
Mr. Bennet slowly released the
breath he was holding. It was done.
Darcy sensed that the matter
was not over yet. Despite the relief he saw on Mr. Bennet’s features, the
upset parent did not look happy.
“You seem unsatisfied
with the outcome of this conversation, sir,” Darcy grunted with a frown.
“Unsatisfied? Indeed I
am, sir. How could I ever be satisfied?”
The bitterness in Mr.
Bennet’s tone was clear. “Your daughter will be making a most advantageous
marriage. Is that not good enough for you and your family?”
“Do you think I could be
proud of giving a most beloved child in marriage under the present
circumstances? What father will find pleasure in forcing his daughter to marry
a man she does not love, a man she dislikes so much?” Mr. Bennet’s
words did not fail to startle the proud groom-to-be. “A man whose
reckless behaviour leads me to think that, whenever the opportunity arises,
will run after the first pretty face that crosses his way? No father would wish
his daughter such an unpleasant destiny,” he finished angrily.
Darcy could not believe what
he just heard. Elizabeth
disliked him? He, a rake?
“Sir, I perfectly
comprehend your feelings. I understand your concerns for you daughter’s
welfare and happiness. But I can assure you, she will never suffer from such an
infliction from my person.”
The father of the bride let
out a chuckle of pure bitterness. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, you may think
me naïve. Yet, I am not. You strayed once.”
“You misunderstand my
nature, I …” Darcy attempted to explain himself.
“Spare me the words,
young man. I fear I have seen enough of this World to know the likes of you
never change. It is not the first time a wealthy man takes too many liberties
with a maiden that he would never take with ladies of his same rank. I have
seen it happen many times.”
Even though Darcy understood
the foundation of Mr. Bennet’s concern, he could not allow anyone to
insult him in that manner. In his defence, Darcy said, “Mr. Bennet, I
fear you have every reason to distrust my words and suspect future
indiscretions, yet I feel obliged to explain the circumstances that forced me
into that behaviour. I am not a rake, I assure you. My misconduct that day was
the result of a moment of weakness.”
“Weakness?” echoed
the enraged father scarcely believing Darcy’s impudence.
“I profess the most
profound regard towards your daughter.” Darcy finally admitted.
Mr. Bennet raised his
eyebrows, not for one minute believing Mr Darcy could be attached to Elizabeth in any way.
Regardless, Darcy continued, with the conviction of a man that knew to have the
best intentions at heart.
“I have been her most
fervent admirer since the day I met her. I feel the deepest regard for your
daughter, sir. As my wife, she will be forever respected and cherished.”
Mr. Bennet could not believe
what he just heard. “Indeed!”
Darcy dropped his gaze
momentarily, then looked at Mr Bennet in earnest pledge. “I give you my
word.”
The mode of Darcy’s
declaration convinced Mr. Bennet of the sincerity of his speech. Perhaps the
other gentleman was mistaking lust with affection; still, this was more than
Mr. Bennet had expected to hear from Darcy’s lips. If he truly cherished
his daughter or at least his feelings were close to this emotion, Elizabeth would be able
to achieve some happiness in the future.
“I believe you, young
man, and it gives me some comfort … under the circumstances.”
“I am glad,
sir.”
“Well son, it is
settled.” Mr. Bennet sighed and inwardly thought, “Do not fool
yourself, Mr. Darcy, things will not be as easy as you imagine.”
Aloud, he said, “You have my daughter’s hand, sir; you must now win
her heart.”
(*)The first bloodstock’s
auction house, founded in 1766 by Richard Tattersalls. The company is world
renowned for selling the best thoroughbreds and hunting horses.