When Least
Expected
a Jane Austen fan fiction vignette
by Lucy
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" Mr. Bennet missed his second
daughter exceedingly;
his affection for her drew him
oftener from home than any thing else could do.
He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially
when he was least expected."
Jane Austen
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In which Mr.
Bennet ruminates upon the unfolding character of Mr. Darcy.
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Mr. Bennet walked into the breakfast room looking ready for
travel to the great surprise of his wife and two daughters. "Well my
dears, I will be off now," he declared in his usual understated tone.
"Off?" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Why whatever do
you mean? Off to where?"
"Pemberley."
"Pemberley? Now I am all confusion!" replied his
wife with a look of such consternation upon her face as to serve as testament
to her assertion. "For I do not believe our dear Mrs. Darcy has said
anything about a visit in her latest letter, and I do not suppose she would
have you and not her sisters or her mother as well, although you two were
always so particular with one another. But now she is Mrs. Darcy better to send
one of the girls, perhaps Kitty, so that she might meet some eligible young men
of fortune too."
"Kitty will not go anywhere until she proves she has
learnt some sense. Furthermore, I said nothing about an invitation my
dear."
"What? Am I to understand that you plan to simply drop
in on our dear Mr. Darcy without a proper invitation?"
"Yes. I do not believe my Lizzy would be too put out,
nor that her husband would be either. He quite recommended to me a visit to
Pemberley when they were not yet married. I believe he wishes to show me the
library."
"The library? Mr. Bennet, you can hardly expect that
Mr. Darcy wishes you to visit now. They are still so newly married."
"Why such strange consideration on your part I do not
comprehend Mrs. Bennet. It is not as though they were married but a fortnight
ago. They have been married these few months already and have had quite enough
time to accustom themselves to the notion."
"But Mr. Darcy is a man of ten thousand pounds a year,
and so right and proper in all he does. He cannot look well upon such
unannounced callers. People of his station are very particular, Mr.
Bennet." She paused for a moment and sighed with satisfaction. "My
dear girls, your sister has made such a match! We must be sure she keeps him
and therefore we must be all that is condescending. We would not want him to
repine his choice and send her back to Longbourn, for I do not imagine she is
any less impertinent now. She should watch her tongue, at least until she
produces an heir."
"I do not believe that I have ever heard you utter
such nonsense Mrs. Bennet, and that is saying a good deal. She is my daughter, and
if her husband were worth twice ten thousand pounds a year, he is still just
her husband, and so I will visit when I see fit."
"Twice ten thousand pounds a year? Ha! You speak of nonsense,
and is that not nonsense? For not many are worth even what our dear Mr. Darcy
is worth. Oh, what a fine match she has made. How rich she is. But I do still
find it so surprising, Jane being so much prettier than Mrs. Darcy. But fine
men can be so capricious. To think, three daughters married."
"Mrs. Bennet, I have had enough of this silliness. I
am off to visit my daughter and that is the last word I wish to hear on the
subject. I shall send word from Pemberley."
And, indeed, that was the last word, as Mr. Bennet
immediately departed from his family and entered the carriage on route north,
laughing all the while. If she only knew his real worth, he mused, why she would have
palpitations of nerves to last quite the rest of her lifetime.
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Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly-her
conversation, her sense and her musical laughter. He was ever so eager to see
her ensconced in her new home, but mostly he simply wished for her company. He
could not deny to himself, however, that he felt an equally great curiosity to
see the man himself in his own environs-at Pemberley-for he firmly held that
this was the key to a final understanding of his exalted son-in-law.
Mr. Darcy had proved a very difficult riddle for Mr. Bennet
to solve. An enthusiast of human folly, he had, upon first acquaintance, found
it rather simple to disregard Darcy as nothing more than a rich, arrogant and
unpleasant man well above the country company in which he found himself as a
result of his friendship with the congenial Mr. Charles Bingley. He had never
thought much upon the nature of such an odd pairing--for steady friends they
most evidently were, if as different as two men could be--because the
friendships and connections of people so wholly unconnected to himself proved
to Mr. Bennet as interesting to contemplate as the latest fashions in lace and
bonnets. But Mr. Bennet found he was forced to no longer disregard the man when
he so very unexpectedly found Darcy in his library standing in front of him and
asking for his beloved Lizzy's hand in marriage. At that moment it became an
issue of the utmost importance for Mr. Bennet to understand this taciturn young
man, and hopefully think well of him too. So he quickly, upon the particular
request of Elizabeth as well as from his own now heated curiosity, took to
trying to comprehend the man who had won Lizzy's hand, and, apparently, her
very high esteem. That it had all come about at all was difficult enough to
work out, but that she should love him, admire him as the best man she had ever
known, was perplexing in the extreme.
He was resolved to understand the man, but the wish proved
farther to the course. For Mr. Bennet found that upon returning to Longborn as
the accepted future husband of his dear Lizzy, Mr. Darcy was, while evidently
more civil and less silent, still not at all talkative, and still determinedly
unreadable. While he was everything proper, attentive and dedicated in a lover
that a father could desire, he had not Bingley's visible enthusiasm. Oddly,
while Mr. Bennet found Bingley's enthrall at the feet of Jane just short of too
much the ridiculously besotted suitor, Mr. Bennet found he would have been
comforted to witness more signs of Darcy's tender devotion. That Darcy looked
at Lizzy a great deal was clear, but what the expression in his eyes meant was
less so. But that Lizzy was happier by the day was undeniable.
"What is it about this man that has so won her
esteem?" he would ask himself.
The larger picture remained quite unresolved for Mr.
Bennet, but he did have hints, hints about the man's true character and
devotion, tantalizing and dramatic hints that left him curious for more. He
felt sometimes as though he had been handed a large tome and given but a single
brilliant passage to read, leaving wonderment at what else might lie within.
That first tantalizing hint came about at the same time as
the engagement. Mr. Bennet had a mostly brief and simple conversation with Darcy-for
he could not but give his consent to such a formidable man, and unlike the
ebullient Bingley, Darcy offered little more than a terse statement of his
tender regard for his intended bride, as though the necessity of asking for
consent was quite enough. A lifetime of habits of restraint cannot be overnight
reformed, after all, regardless of the depths of affections concerned. But it
was precisely this reserve that left Mr. Bennet so uneasy with the intended
match that he had insisted on speaking with Lizzy to be quite sure that this
was her heart's desire. What he learned in that conversation-that she loved him
dearly, that Darcy had proven his steadfastness of devotion and proven himself
a man of honor, generous in the extreme--left Mr. Bennet astonished. The next
morning, when Darcy came to call on his now betrothed, Mr. Bennet therefore
requested a private conversation with the man.
Upon entering the library the men sat down across from each
other and remained in strained silence. Mr. Bennet took a few minutes to simply
observe this man who was now to take first place of honor and duty in his
daughter's heart and life and tried to discern what lay contained therein. But
the man's face was inscrutable and gave away nothing but a sense of slight unease.
"Mr. Darcy, I am sure you would prefer to be spending
this time with my daughter, so I will dispense with civilities."
"Thank you, sir," was Darcy's succinct response.
Elizabeth had had a brief opportunity that morning to inform Darcy of what she
had told her father regarding the Wickham affair and so Darcy was quite
prepared for this interview.
"I understand from my conversation with Lizzy last
evening that my family is greatly indebted to you." At these words Darcy
fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, his eyes turned away from Mr. Bennet's
face and taking a deep breath, he began to nervously play with his signet ring.
If not for Lizzy's plea that he take the time to know Darcy
better, if not for her contention that the man had no improper pride, Mr.
Bennet would at that moment have been rather reluctant to voice his gratitude.
For there was something so removed about Darcy's posture as to give a feeling
of coldness, even though it was also clear that he was far from being at ease.
Giving the man the benefit of Lizzy's assertions, though, Mr. Bennet tried to
put Darcy more at ease. "I must say that I have never been so astonished
in my life, excepting perhaps that half hour before when you declared your
intentions of making Lizzy your wife." Seeing that Darcy was not visibly
amused, Mr. Bennet got on with the point. "You must allow me to express my
deepest gratitude for all that you did for my youngest daughter, and by
extension my entire family."
Without looking directly into Mr. Bennet's face, but rather
at a vague spot somewhere just above his head, Darcy replied in a voice that
spoke of a man accustomed to the finality of his authority. "I assure you
sir that gratitude is neither requested nor required. I acted as I thought I
must. When I learned of the elopement, quite accidentally, from Miss Elizabeth
herself, it was clear that I had in my possession knowledge about George
Wickham's ways, his true character, his connections and expectations that few
others could possess. Therefore I did all in my power to rectify the situation,
as any man of honor would have done. You and your family, much as I respect
you, should in no way feel indebted to me. I merely acted to correct what could
have been prevented had I but shared with the world more openly Wickham's
dealings with my family and therefore exposed his true character."
"I will not argue the point, but I will ask that you
now reveal to me all the financial dealings you had with my worthless
son-in-law that I might repay you. I am sure it was no paltry sum."
Much as Mr. Bennet had predicted to Lizzy the prior
evening, this was clearly not to be. Darcy now rose from his chair and walked
the room a moment, before placing himself behind the chair he had been
occupying. With his hands resting on the seat back his eyes finally came to
rest upon Mr. Bennet's. His tone was still that of the man who will brook no
opposition. "With all due respect sir, I absolutely refuse to provide you
with that information if it means that you will assume an obligation. I will
not accept repayment of any kind. The thing is done with and I would wish for
it to be forgot as well."
"I do not imagine it can be forgot, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy now began to pace the room again. "This is
precisely why I had desired that my role be kept secret. This is all very
awkward Mr. Bennet." Pausing for a moment, he continued, in a softer tone,
speaking almost to himself. "And had Mrs. Wickham not let slip to
Elizabeth that I was in attendance at her wedding it might still be secret. I
would have certainly told Elizabeth of all this after we wed, I should imagine,
but I had so wished her to be ignorant of my role in the entire sordid affair.
At least at this juncture."
"If I may say, Mr. Darcy, that would appear to defy
logic. From what you told me last evening you already had intentions toward my
daughter long before the unhappy affair, although as of the summer you had not
secured her consent. So I wonder why you would keep from her an act of such
kindness and generosity. It would have seemed to argue your case."
A look of something like bewilderment passed over Darcy's
face, as though such a working of logic were quite unfathomable to his way of
seeing the thing. "I wished to win your daughter's affections, not her
gratitude. While at the time that the unfortunate events occurred I had reason
to believe her opinion of me greatly improved, I had still only my own
wishes."
"Yes well, I suppose there is some point to that view,
although only an ardent lover would see it in that manner. If your act so
clearly illustrated good character it would necessarily improve her opinion, or
that of any informed person."
Darcy was here growing most visibly uncomfortable and
impatient with the discussion, centering as it was on what was so dear to his
heart and yet still so new and unimaginable. He had won her, at last, but it
was far to early for him to feel secure in this new feeling of elation. To
discuss it all as though it were no more than an exercise in logical reasoning
was very trying. Impatiently, he finally said, "Yes, well, I suppose we
could argue the point of logic for quite some time. But, as I said, the entire
affair is done with and should be left alone. It need not be discussed further.
If you will be so kind as to excuse me sir, I would return to your
daughter."
Mr. Bennet, fully aware that this conversation, before it
had even commenced, was a formality with the conclusion forgone, merely waved
his hand and nodded his assent with a gruff, "Naturally, young man. Good
day."
He watched as Darcy's long strides took him quickly to the
library door, and was surprised when Darcy stopped at the door, turned back
into the room and began to speak in a voice that Mr. Bennet found completely
unrecognizable, so infused with tenderness was it.
"Mr. Bennet, anyone who has observed you and Elizabeth
together appreciates that you hold one another in very special regard. I
imagine it must be difficult for you to see your daughter taken so far from
Longbourn and as the wife of a man whose character you have had cause in the
past to question. If you must think on this business with Wickham, may I offer
that you think of it as some small comfort in that from it you can be secure in
the knowledge that I will unfailingly do all that is in my power to ensure
Elizabeth's happiness and peace of mind. Good day sir."
Bowing very formally, he quit the room, leaving Mr. Bennet
with much to ponder upon.
Now, some few months later, as the carriage headed north,
he found himself still pondering the man.
His book lay unattended in his lap while he vaguely observed the passing
countryside. But his thoughts were bouncing back and forth from Longbourn to
Pemberley. It was clear from her
letters that Elizabeth was happy and content-she spoke nothing but goodness of
her husband and her new sister, and wrote easily and with good humor of those
things that required some learning or adjustment. That she was happy most
particularly with her husband was clear. Yet Mr. Bennet still felt that he only
dimly understood the man, and even less the attachment between them-it had
been, after all, a most extraordinary match for his girl. That the man had
braved some consequential disapprobation for the match was sure, and that all
he wanted in return for all he gave was her sincere love seemed somehow too
romantic a notion for Mr. Bennet to grasp. That Darcy-a man who seemed right
through to the day of their wedding such a taciturn, quiet man-had won the
sincere love of his lively and witty daughter seemed just as far from his grasp.
He longed for this understanding as he had never desired to know or understand
anything else.
That he trusted his dear Lizzy's judgment and discernment
had allowed him to be accepting of the match, even pleased for her sake, but
for his own he wanted to know well the man to whom he had entrusted his most
beloved daughter. That Darcy was a good man, a man of duty and honor who would
always do right by his wife was soon evident as he became more acquainted with
the man, as was Darcy's intelligence, but still, something lacked that gave the
adoring father a slight unease. In the privacy of his thoughts he could admit
that he wanted more for this daughter than just comforts and duty, he wanted
all that a man was never to expect for his daughter, particularly a dowerless
daughter: he wanted her to be respected and cherished as dearly as he did,
cherished above all else.
After granting his consent he began discreetly observing
them, looking as if for some great sign of their understanding and devotion. And
perhaps it was unfair to his reserved son-in-law that he had the constant foil
of the ebullient Bingley, always quick with a sincere smile and always
lavishing his bride with unmistakable devotion in looks and manner and address.
In truth, Mr. Bennet concluded as he thought back to the courtships of his two
eldest daughters, there had been something too public about the entire
situation with Jane and Bingley. From the first it was as though it had been
played out in the public square: the initial meeting and infatuation, the
disappointment of Bingley's long absence, his return and his subsequent meeting
of all Meryton's long held expectations; even after they married the doings of
Netherfield became some sort of oddly public concern. Darcy and Elizabeth, quite
in contrast, had come together in complete privacy and intimacy, surprising all
who knew them, even Jane and Bingley. So perhaps it should not have surprised
Mr. Bennet that they continued to be so discreet and intimate in their
affections throughout the period of betrothal-yet it was precisely that lack of
expectations and that element of astonishment held by all when the match was
made that left Mr. Bennet uncharacteristically eager for the displays of
affections he generally was want to find so comical.
So he watched. And he saw that his dear Lizzy was happy,
laughing and eager. He saw that Darcy was all attentiveness, but still so often
wearing an inscrutable expression. He saw that when left to themselves they
were talkative and at ease, so finally, Mr. Bennet concluded he must simply
trust to Elizabeth's happiness. Of course, as is often the case, soon after he
stopped looking, he saw an intimation of what they shared. It was but a small,
delicate exchange only half heard, but it left him suddenly thinking that
perhaps Jane and her Bingley had the greater part of infatuation, but that
Darcy and Elizabeth had the greater part of understanding. And this satisfied
him.
Darcy had gone to London to prepare all of the settlement
papers, as well as to give some instructions at his house in town for the
arrival of the new mistress. Upon his return he had given to Elizabeth his
first lover's gift, a token, he said, of his regard--it was an extraordinarily
delicate bracelet of small garnets interspaced with gold filigrees in the shape
of a flower blossom with a tiny diamond within each bud. As soon as Mrs. Bennet
saw the token, she was of course breathless with commentary, not all of which
was complimentary. "Garnets? Why not rubies if he so prefers red gems?"
was an oft repeated question. Fortunately for Elizabeth, her betrothed did not
hear such ravings, as he had gone to request that Mr. Bennet spare him some
time to review the settlement. Having secured Mr. Bennet's time, Elizabeth was
asked to join them.
Mr. Bennet watched with some amusement as the lovers
attempted to appear unmoved by the awkwardness of engaging in such a pecuniary
exercise in the midst of a courtship. Elizabeth sat in a chair before his table
and looked resolutely at her hands, folded neatly in her lap, and Darcy stood
at the window, back to the room, while Mr. Bennet reviewed the documents.
Occasionally, an eyebrow would rise in what could be construed as either
surprise or displeasure, and he would look from his daughter's down turned head
to her betrothed's back-noting for the first time, almost absently and
certainly incongruently, what broad shoulders the man had. After some time he
took his spectacles off, placed them on the desk and cleared his throat. He
succeeded in getting Elizabeth to look up, but Mr. Darcy continued to stare out
the window, hands behind his back, fingers methodically spinning his signet
ring, shoulders stiff and tense.
"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet began, "I assume
from these documents that we have not been accurately informed regarding your
condition in life."
Elizabeth gave her father a puzzled look, but Mr. Bennet
simply looked toward Darcy with a neutral expression. Darcy turned into the
room and replied in a formal and practiced tone, "I am unaware of what you
have been told and therefore I cannot vouch for the accuracy of your
information, sir."
"Yes, well. As I am sure you could surmise, the entire
populace of Meryton knew your income before they knew your name or character.
Of course, having learnt as we have so recently that the populace of Meryton
was not altogether perfect in some of their opinions, it should not perhaps
surprise me that they should have not altogether accurate information on a
gentleman visiting the neighborhood for a little shooting."
Darcy took a deep and audible breath, as though annoyed by
Mr. Bennet's ruminations on the good people of Meryton. "Sir,
pronouncements regarding my fortune have, unfortunately, long been my lot to
suffer. Paying that as little mind as I can, I no longer know what people
say-they may have me the King of Siam for all I know. If you will but inform me
of what you have been told I can attest to the relative veracity of your
information."
At this point Elizabeth was growing decidedly uneasy, which
Mr. Bennet could see, although he could not know its cause. In truth, Elizabeth
and Darcy had come to a satisfactory peace with the issues raised during his
Hunsford proposal and the recent disapprobation in some quarters to their
engagement, and Darcy had shown her every devotion and tenderness, yet her
uneasiness would rise as she felt suddenly the reality of their disparate
situations for the first time.
"Ten thousand pounds a year is the general
expectation."
Darcy cleared his throat and looked first at the back of
Elizabeth's head and then to Mr. Bennet. "As you could surely surmise from
the settlement, that is not entirely accurate."
"So I suspected," Mr. Bennet dryly replied. He
watched with something akin to amusement as Darcy proceeded to straighten his
back still more while lowering his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the
discussion.
"Pemberley itself represents a clear twelve thousand
pounds a year. There is a property in Scotland, currently let, which I
inherited from my godmother. There are some additional interests and
investments of which I shall provide details should you so desire. Together it
would be more accurate to say nearer to sixteen thousand pounds a year."
Elizabeth was overawed and dropped her head again that her
father might not see the look of complete surprise that engulfed her. It was
not the difference itself that overawed her so, for whether he be worth ten or
sixteen thousand a year was really the same in that they were both unfathomable
amounts. But this clear, business like discussion of his worth and the clarity
of her own situation, in a purely worldly sense, left her feeling for the first
time in their history, quite inferior. The stark knowledge that she brought
only her charms was shocking-even as it simultaneously confirmed his devotion
to her and made it that much more precious.
She was interrupted from her reflections by her father, who
began to laugh in a strangely uncontrolled manner that confused both Elizabeth
and Darcy. Finally he remarked: "I think, young man, I will do you the
favor of letting Meryton, and most particularly Mrs. Bennet, continue in their
belief. I see no reason to enlighten them further."
Bowing in appreciation, Darcy conceded the information need
not be shared beyond the room. Elizabeth remained silent and listened as her
father detailed the settlement and other such peripheries. When he had
completed the explanation, he turned to Darcy for confirmation that he had not
misrepresented the contents of the document.
"Well then Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said jovially,
"have you any questions? Will the pin money suffice, do you think?"
She replied, almost meekly. "No questions sir. In
truth, it is far too generous. It cannot be necessary to be so generous."
Darcy walked to her chair and, remaining behind her, called
her name. "Elizabeth?" she would not look to him, rather she looked
again to her hands, still neatly folded in her lap. Placing his hand on her
shoulder, Darcy said in softened tones, "Elizabeth, you shall soon be the
Mistress of Pemberley. As such, this is your right and your due."
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," was her only, quiet
response.
As they left the library, Mr. Bennet felt again some
trepidation. That Elizabeth had been made uncomfortable by the reality of her
new situation was evident, that Darcy tried to assure her was pleasing, but
again he felt the lack of effusion he had seen when Bingley laid out his
relatively more modest settlement for Jane. Mr. Bennet did not know what he
needed to see to feel at ease, but he knew he had not yet seen it.
That evening, however, he at last saw what would give him
peace-it was a small gesture, a few private words spoken in a public space,
words so intimate he knew he should have walked a few steps away to avoid
hearing them.
Dinner had been with a large party of neighbors and
Elizabeth had been quiet and dispirited since the morning's settlement
discussion. Mrs. Bennet, in an effort to crow about the prestigious man that
would soon be her son, perversely placed them at different ends of the table,
seating Mr. Darcy next to those she most wished to impress. Having been
separated from his betrothed for the entire evening, and knowing she was in low
spirits but not quite understanding why, Darcy himself was as impatient and
taciturn as he had ever been when first arriving in Hertfordshire. When the
gentlemen rose to join the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy was hard on Mr.
Bennet's heals, eager to speak with Elizabeth.
The two gentlemen entered the room first and looked upon
the face of a very mortified Elizabeth-she looked ashen, stricken. She was
standing slightly apart from a group of women that included her mother, whose
voice could be heard above the room's steady chatter.
"Oh yes she will be quite fine, very rich. And dear
Mr. Darcy is ever so attentive to her. Why just today as he returned from
London he brought her a lovely token of his affections. A little bracelet she
wears right now. Nothing really. As I said, just a small token. A few little diamonds
you know. I am sure that the next one will have rubies too instead of garnets.
I cannot imagine why he selected garnets. But then, once she is married she
shall be able to purchase all the jewels she likes, for he is quite taken with
her. I am sure he will deny her nothing. Still, I do wonder about the
garnets."
"Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet interrupted loudly,
"the gentlemen have joined you. Shall we not have some refreshments?"
And thus distracted, her revelry ended.
Darcy, meanwhile, had gone straight to Elizabeth's side
where she had looked upon him with a look of such mortification and shame,
until she could not look upon him any longer, and bowed her head. Mr. Bennet
moved himself toward the couple with the intention of lightening Elizabeth's embarrassment
with some quip regarding her mother's indiscretion. But as he approached he saw
Darcy lift her hand and begin to play with the bracelet that had just been
disparaged by Mrs. Bennet as not worthy. Elizabeth's eyes turned to look at his
hand caressing the small, delicate gems. Darcy began to speak, in a voice so
soft and tender that even to Mr. Bennet's ears it sounded like a caress. Mr.
Bennet was surprisingly mesmerized.
"It matters not my love. I should hope that you
understand that by now."
"I do," she replied softly. "But
still."
Darcy continued to hold one hand in his, while he stroked
the small gems of the bracelet with the other hand. There was no other movement
between them.
"Do you wonder about the garnets?" She looked up at
him with distress and confusion, shaking her head slowly.
"The diamond," he said, passing his finger over
one of the diamonds, "of course speaks of love. But I think the garnet is
just as important. It speaks of friendship. Both speak of fidelity." At
this he lifted his eyes and smiled, a warm, radiant smile. "For we will be
not just faithful lovers, but faithful friends as well, will we not?" A
thoroughly lovely blushing smile spread across Elizabeth's face and an
expression of tenderness soon replaced the distress and unease that had been
sitting therein.
"But there is another reason I wanted my very first
gift for you to contain garnet stones. In truth, I could give you no other. For
the garnet stone is said to dispel sadness-just as you have done for me."
He lifted her hand and gently kissed it, all tensions
dissipated. Oh my,
Mr. Bennet said to himself, as a feeling of peace overtook him, sensing that
indeed she would be cherished as much as he could wish for.
It was then, with a new sense of tranquility, that Mr.
Bennet began to see unfolding before him a man of great quality, a man not
easily known, perhaps even by those he called friends. For while he saw that
Bingley greatly admired his friend and seemed to instinctively understand his
merits, Mr. Bennet could not but wonder if he did in fact know his friend.
Indeed, Mr. Bennet found himself surprisingly intent on knowing Darcy-not just
appreciating his merits, or understanding his general character, but knowing
him. And he began to wonder if it was not a similar unfolding that occurred for
Elizabeth when she began to love him.
"Pemberley," he said to himself as the carriage
disappeared from the drive and took the newly wed couple to their home in
London. "I shall have to wait to see them at Pemberley. There I shall see
at last the simple truth of the man, I am sure."
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"Not five miles to Pemberley, sir"
Mr. Bennet was not a man easily moved. He was too cynical for
the effects of emotions to succeed on his heart. Yet the words of the driver
set his heart a flutter as surely as any girl's heart as she attended her first
ball. He was himself quite taken aback by the feeling of expectant joy that
overtook him knowing that soon he would be in the company of his dearest Lizzy.
Oh yes, her delightful company again, her musical laughter filling his soul
with feelings of glad tidings. As he mulled this through the last remaining
miles past and he did but vaguely pay attention to the long drive into the
estate and the fine groves and woods.
However, upon climbing a hill and reaching its apex he drew
in a breath, and asking the driver to stop the carriage found himself again
unaccountably moved. For Mr. Bennet was also a man not easily impressed, but
when he saw the grand house laid before him, in that most perfect of
situations, so nobly ensconced, as impressive and unpretentious as an old oak,
he thought he had never seen a place so lacking in pomp and yet so unmistakably
elegant and grand.
"Oh my Lizzy, this is quite a home you have
here," he muttered as he told the man to drive on. He began to ponder anew
his contention that Darcy was a man not to be known without knowing his estate
and his land, without knowing the place from whence he sprung.
The carriage was soon at Pemberley's door and as Mr. Bennet
alighted from the carriage he took a moment to look upon the stately fa?ade and
wondered again that this was the home of his darling girl. He stepped up to the
doorway.
"Good afternoon, is Mrs. Darcy in?"
"She is sir. However, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are not
receiving visitors today."
Mr. Bennet laughed to find himself so barred from his own
daughter's door, and good-humoredly insisted to the stern servant that she
would, most certainly, wish to receive him.
"May I tell her who is calling?"
"Actually, I would rather you not. Could you simply
take me to her? I would like to surprise her. I am her father, Mr. Bennet."
This was an unusual request, even if the man was the mistress's father, and the
footman felt he must speak first to Mrs. Reynolds for her approval.
"Allow me to bring the housekeeper, Mr. Bennet. She
will attend you."
Mr. Bennet was soon joined by Mrs. Reynolds who agreed to
take Mr. Bennet to his daughter unannounced.
"She is not in the drawing room at present sir, but
taking tea with Mr. Darcy in the master's study. If you will follow me."
Mrs. Reynolds led Mr. Bennet past the public rooms and down
a series of long and very elegantly appointed passageways until they neared a
room with the door ajar and voices floating out. Mr. Bennet heard his
daughter's musical laughter, accompanied by a deep, rich laughter he presumed
to be that of Mr. Darcy-having never heard the man laugh he could only presume.
As Mrs. Reynolds neared the door to knock, Mr. Bennet touched her arm gently
and motioned for her to stop. Reluctantly Mrs. Reynolds acquiesced-her
mistress's father appeared such a kindly gentleman and so bent on the surprise.
Mr. Bennet quietly approached the door and opened it ever
so slightly. He noted that the perfectly oiled hinges made not a sound. The
door opened into a large and richly furnished study. The walls were dark, but
the windows were large and opened onto a splendid vista of the park, so that
the room was filled by the afternoon sun. His eyes quickly swept the room and
noted the impressive desk covered in papers, well stocked shelves, a painting
of the hunt, a saber, a portrait of a man who looked remarkably like an older
version of his daughter's husband, Persian rugs, a table with crystal decanters
filled with rich auburn liquors, a globe. It was all one would anticipate for
the study of a man of consequence: substantial, comfortable, sturdy, elegant
and warm.
Having entered unannounced and in silence, for a moment he
watched the couple before making his presence known. They were sitting together
on a sofa, the tea tray on a table in front of them. Darcy's back was to the
door, sitting and facing his wife, his broad shoulders and tall frame hiding
her from Mr. Bennet's view. Darcy had one arm resting atop the back of the sofa
and Elizabeth had her hand resting atop his forearm.
"You, my darling wife," Darcy was saying,
"are simply incorrigible."
"Perhaps. But I defy you to find exception with
that."
My goodness, Mr. Bennet thought, I seem to have walked in on a
flirtation. Before
it could proceed, he remarked in a mild tone, "Mr. Darcy, Lizzy being
incorrigible should hardly come as a surprise any longer."
The couple shot up to their feet in a moment, blushing;
realizing who was standing in the study, Lizzy ran to her father and embraced
him with a giddy cry. "Papa!"
Pulling his daughter from his arms and taking a good long
look at her he smiled. "I need not ask how you are fairing my dear, you
look remarkably well."
The next half hour was spent in happy reunion, until they
were interrupted by a call from Mr. Darcy's steward.
"Oh yes, that business with Mr. Barton, is it
not?" Elizabeth inquired.
"I am afraid so. It really cannot wait, my love."
"No. It really must be resolved once and for all. Do
not concern yourself. I shall take my father to his chambers that he might
change from his traveling attire, and then I shall give him a tour of the house
and gardens. We shall leave you to this Barton concern and see you at dinner,
for I gather it will take the remainder of the day to resolve." Giving her
husband a kiss on the cheek, she turned to her father and placed her arm in
his. "Now come, Papa, I have ever so much to show you."
"So it would seem," he replied teasingly.
"Tell me," he said, as they made their way down
the hallway, "you seem to know about this business that distracts your Mr.
Darcy today. Does he share with you all the estate concerns?"
"Yes. We are in each others complete confidence,
Papa."
"I am pleased to see he respects you enough for
this."
"He could not be a better husband."
"Yes, I recall now. He is the very best of men."
"You tease me Papa, but he is."
"And I am pleased if it be so, my dear girl."
Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth spent the afternoon in delighted
conversation, while she showed him all the main rooms of the house and the
gardens. Mr. Bennet was quite sure that his daughter had never been so happy,
nor looked so well. In fact, for the first time ever he thought her looking
quite as beautiful, if not more so, than Jane. It was as though she had
blossomed. He was very pleased, which of course made him teasing.
"You are proving a very poor guide Lizzy, you have not
told me the cost of a single fireplace. How shall I ever report this with any
credit to Mr. Collins? And you have not told me how many settees are
upholstered in silk, so I know not what I shall tell your mother."
They continued in this delightful manner until it was time
to prepare for dinner. As Elizabeth was leaving her father to go and dress, she
took his hand in her own and pressed it gently.
"I am so very pleased you have come Papa. Here you
will be able to know my husband at his best. Some people are at their best in
the company of strangers and acquaintances when they must behave. But my
husband is at his best here at Pemberley, at the place he holds so dear, with
those he loves and who love him in turn."
"Fear not. If he makes you this happy my dear, I cannot
but think well of him."
Everything he saw that evening and the following day, did
in fact contribute to his thinking well of Darcy. His daughter's happiness was
itself sufficient for that, but he witnessed as well the very true and tender affection
between the couple. While Darcy still had not Bingley's ebullience of
adoration, he did clearly demonstrate his attachment, with delicacy and
consistency. It felt steady and deep, and was moving in its intimacy. There was
a general sense of ease and felicity about them that gave to their home a warm
and welcoming feeling.
At dinner on Mr. Bennet's second evening, Mr. Darcy made a
suggestion which would prove decisive to Mr. Bennet's finally resolving what he
had long privately called the riddle of Darcy.
"Mr. Bennet, I will be riding out at first light
tomorrow toward the northern reaches of the estate. I will be calling on some
tenants. It will be a full day and I would not expect to return before sundown.
Would you care to ride out with me? You could in that manner have a good look
at your daughter's home."
Touched by his reference to the estate as "your
daughter's home" Mr. Bennet, not an enthusiast of long rides, felt it
impossible to refuse. "I think I shall join you, Mr. Darcy."
"Excellent!" Darcy replied with a genuine
enthusiasm that quite surprised Mr. Bennet.
"But I am an old man, so do have one of your grooms
saddle me a quiet creature. Not a monster like the one I saw you riding out on
yesterday."
The table laughed happily. "Trajan is no monster, but
he is fast as the devil."
"I'll have one slow and steady if you will."
"Slow and
steady. Very well. Then at first light we shall set off."
At first light Mr. Bennet made his way toward the stables.
The morning was damp and misty as the early morning sun began to rise. As he
approached the doorway that led out to the grounds, he saw and heard Darcy
speaking with his housekeeper.
"We shall be riding out first to the Gibsons and then
follow out to call on McNulty. Depending on the time, we may also ride to the
Burns place. Mrs. Darcy is aware of all this, but in case we are needed send a
man at once."
"Yes, Mr. Darcy. Will there be anything else,
sir?"
"Have a carriage ready for Mrs. Darcy, she wishes to
visit that poor Brown boy. I believe she will set out immediately after
breakfast."
"Very well sir. And will you and Mr. Bennet be
returned in time for dinner?"
"Perhaps." Darcy turned and saw Mr. Bennet
approach. "Ah, good morning Mr. Bennet. Ready for a good brisk morning ride
are you?"
"Good morning Mr. Darcy. I believe I am as ready as an
old man ever shall be."
"Excellent. Then let's go to it!" And turning on
his heal, Darcy walked toward the stables.
Mr. Bennet watched Darcy's vigorous and confident strides
with admiration. He was all youthful energy and strength and aristocratic
elegance. But something in Darcy's gait, a lightness, perhaps, that was so
different from his drawing room demeanor, suddenly struck Mr. Bennet with the
notion of Darcy's relative youth. "Not yet thirty," he mused,
"and years master of such an estate as this, and those years so evident in
his confidence and decisiveness."
They rode out at first in a companionable silence, Darcy
interrupting the quiet from time to time to point out a particular sight or
object of interest. Mr. Bennet was pleased by how often Darcy remarked on a
particular view or grove that was a favorite of Elizabeth's, and he wondered if
Bingley could so casually recognize Jane's preferences-of Wickham and Lydia he
need not wonder. It was a long ride before reaching the Gibson place, and
throughout Mr. Bennet asked questions about the estate, impressed with the
expansive and detailed knowledge Darcy had of every particular concerning his
great estate. Reflecting upon his own more careless management of the very much
smaller Longbourn, he said, "I am impressed Mr. Darcy, with the great
depth of knowledge you have of your estate. Many a landowner is happy to leave
such details to a competent and trusted steward and bothers only with the
essentials."
"I have a most excellent Steward, as did my father
before me-Mr. Wickham's father, as you are surely aware-and we have certainly
always relied on the good judgment and competence of these men. But I believe
the first lesson I learned while still on my father's knee was that a good
landowner and master must always be prepared to run his estate without the
assistance of a Steward. There is too much at stake, he would say, for it to be
otherwise, for it is not just the Darcy legacy concerned. The lives and
fortunes of many families are dependent on our responsible and diligent
management."
"A fine lesson, clearly well learnt."
The conversation was cut short here as they arrived on the
lands of the first tenant Darcy wished to call upon. As Mr. Bennet observed
Darcy for the remainder of the day as he interacted with the tenants and their
families, he was greatly impressed. While they all showed him the deference
required to their master and landowner, Darcy was all easy politeness, proper and
oddly warm, not at all the aloof and condescending man that Hertfordshire
immediately took a dislike to at the infamous Assembly ball. Mr. Bennet was
surprised by the ease and good will demonstrated between the master and his
tenants, his amiability and knowledge of their concerns. Darcy was firm,
decisive and commanding, without being authoritative in manner. And in his
conversation he displayed a quick, agile and fair mind. It was as though Mr.
Bennet had never seen the man before, and he was confirmed in the belief that
to know the man he must be seen at Pemberley, and he recalled what his daughter
had said the day he had arrived: he is at his best here. Indeed, thought Mr. Bennet,
indeed.
The day progressed and late in the afternoon Darcy and Mr.
Bennet made their way back to Pemberley house, Mr. Bennet's head fairly teeming
with questions.
"May I ask, Mr. Darcy, how old were you when you took
over management of Pemberley?"
"I was two and twenty when my excellent father died.
But in truth I had been managing it for nearly a year before. My father's
illness was long and painful."
"Full young for so much responsibility."
Darcy would have customarily let the conversation end there,
but he was feeling unusually communicative. He had been so pleased to see his
wife's happiness in her father's company, and he felt as though he would wish
to have the older man understand him better, that it would please his wife if
it were so. "I never gave that much thought, in truth. I was riding the
estate along with my father almost as soon as I could sit astride a horse, sir.
And as a boy my lessons were as like to include estate issues as history or
Latin."
"Never encouraged to be idle were you?"
"Not particularly, sir."
"Still. It must have been a great weight at so young
an age, when your companions were primarily concerned with pints of ale and
balls."
"Fortunately, pints of ale and balls have never held
any great attraction for me. I did find the responsibility of my sister's care
and education a greater weight. As a young man of just two and twenty I did not
know how to be father and mother and brother to her all. I did not wish to fail
her. She is such a darling girl and was so despondent when we lost our father.
They were quite close."
"I suppose having a young girl in your care would have
also impacted your view on some of the less proper activities some young men
indulge in."
"Truly. At Cambridge it was not pints of ale and balls
that were of interest to some, but gambling and indiscretions. Neither was to
my liking, and less so given my circumstances, I should imagine."
They rode on for a time with no more conversation. Mr.
Bennet thinking on how it had been for himself, as a much older man, to have
the care and responsibility of young ladies, how he had failed in his
attentiveness and what seriousness of intent this man demonstrated now, and
surely had as well at such a tender age. To have so much responsibility, and
yet so much freedom at so young an age must have shaped him strongly and not
always well and would perhaps explain how this amiable and engaging man he now
saw could show himself in such a manner as to be the same man that affronted
all of Meryton.
Too much independence and fortune, not enough-guidance and
affection, all at once and at a critical age, he concluded.
Mr. Bennet began again, picking up as though there had been
no pause to their conversation. "But Darcy, you had an independence other
young companions still dependent on allowances must have envied."
At this, Darcy let out a cynical chuckle. "What I had,
sir, was every ambitious mother and unattached lady in England pressing upon me
their charms and whiles. Upon my word, there is nothing so distasteful as young
ladies of good breeding acting like cattle for inspection or sensible women
acting the fool, all in an obvious attempt to secure one's independently
controlled fortune. Where is the humanity, you wonder, the dignity, including
one's own?"
"I had never thought of it in quite such stark terms.
I have rather found such behavior amusing."
"When one has been the object it is far from amusing.
Nor is it amusing to see ladies demean themselves in an effort to secure a situation
or a fine house. It is why Elizabeth's refusal of my first proposal made me
love her and respect her more than I already did, I am sure. Here was a woman,
I realized, who will not bend her principals or sell her integrity. Given the
society I had lived in for so many years, it was astonishing and
wonderful."
Mr. Bennet nearly fell off his horse, and reigning the
creature to a stop, stammered, "First proposal? What first proposal?"
Darcy looked at his usually cynical father-in-law, whose
countenance was filled with unmistakable and absolute amazement, and could not
help but laugh, an open, generous laugh. "Oh yes, your daughter refused my
first proposal. You do not really believe that I won her without an effort do
you?"
"I knew nothing about it."
"Very few do, even now."
"And when was this first proposal, if I may ask?"
"Certainly. I first proposed when we unexpectedly
found ourselves in company for three weeks in Kent."
"In Kent? Why, that was months before you became
engaged."
"Our conversation at Hunsford was extraordinarily
forthright, in fact, I believe it is why we are so open with one another now.
She learned that some things she believed about me were in fact slanders
against my character; I learned that I was possessed of certain manners that made
me unacceptable to her. After my bitterness and disappointment dissipated I was
actually oddly elated, for I knew that if I could win her, I would win her as a
man, not by my fortune or position. You cannot imagine, Mr. Bennet, the gift
that was."
"But I don't imagine that is why she refused
you." Mr. Bennet remarked wryly.
"Not at all," Darcy chuckled, "but the gift
was none the less given."
"You speak of it so lightly."
"Now, perhaps. It was bitterly painful for me at the
time, but, as I said, now I look upon it as a gift. And then, she is now my wife."
"You have given her a very grand life."
"I have given her the life I had to offer, that is
all. Perhaps it is grand. But she has given me so much more. Something so much
more rare."
"Disinterested affection?"
"Yes. And joy."
"Joy? Is that so rare?"
"Here at Pemberley it was for a great many years,
until she walked in and became its mistress. All the worldly goods I have given
her cannot compare with what she has given me. No. Never."
"But you seem to have given to her in kind,
Darcy."
"I hope that I have, that I do."
The men came upon a ridge now, and the grand house could be
seen in the not so far distance. "It is, regardless, a stunning prospect
Darcy."
Mr. Bennet watched as a broad and warm smile lit Darcy's
face. "Yes. And inside is the most delightful wife a man could ever dream
of." Pausing for a moment, he continued, "I think if we give the
horses a good push we can arrive in time to join the ladies for dinner. Shall
we?"
"By all means," Mr. Bennet remarked, at which
Darcy took off on his fine horse with admirable speed. Mr. Bennet noted Darcy's
excellent seat and the air of elegance and confident strength that emanated
from his tall and graceful figure. He thought upon the day and the young man's
openness and all he had said. "Yes, she has made a very fine match."
And with that he urged his slow and steady horse forward.
That night at dinner Mr. Bennet was in a jovial, playful
mood. Elizabeth would have him discuss what he saw and how he liked all he had
seen. Mr. Bennet was pleased to oblige her and was sincere and generous in his
praise as he could be, but never able to let a conversation go without some teasing,
he finally added: "Still, I cannot comprehend Lizzy, that you left me to
your mother's nerves and your sisters' silliness for this!" And he waved
his hands about, gesturing to the room and the elegant table.
"Papa!" she cried.
"Oh, I will grant you that your Mr. Darcy has proven
to be quite a great man and surprisingly charming and Miss Darcy clearly has
five times the good sense of Mary and Kitty, poor girls. Why I do not believe
she has said one silly thing since I have arrived. Rather refreshing."
"I trust then," Darcy interjected in an equally
jovial tone, "your visit will be of some duration?"
"Why look, he can even smile in the most becoming
manner when he so chooses. I suppose I must give up bringing you back to
Longbourn!"
At this, Elizabeth looked to her husband, who was in fact
smiling in the most becoming manner. Seeing this, Mr. Bennet added, "And
then of course, Lizzy, you are so hopelessly besotted."
Turning to Miss Darcy, he continued. "Miss Darcy, I
dare say your brother has turned my sensible level headed Lizzy into quite a
silly creature. All sensibility now and no sense at all."
"If it be any consolation Mr. Bennet," Georgiana offered
boldly, "I believe the same can be said of my brother. I did so depend on
his rational guidance, but it seems a hopeless case now."
"Well Miss Darcy, nothing to it but for you and I to
depend upon each other."
With Elizabeth and Darcy now blushing thoroughly, Mr.
Bennet was quite satisfied. "A little more wine, perhaps," he said,
motioning to the servant.
Mr. Bennet stayed on for another fortnight, enjoying
himself as he had not done in years. The library was a dream, the wine cellar
superb, the company all that is delightful, witty, sensible and warm. He was
quite tempted to stay indefinitely, but return to Longbourn he must.
On the morning of his departure Mr. Bennet chatted amiably
with Darcy as they walked toward the carriage.
"I dare say Darcy, you have made my Lizzy so very
happy that I am in peril of singing your raptures in a manner quite likely to
make even Mrs. Bennet blush from the impropriety of it all."
"I shall endeavor, sir, to ensure that you remain
always in such peril."
"Do. I would look upon it as a personal favor." Mr.
Bennet then patted Darcy on the shoulder affectionately as the men turned and
joined Elizabeth as she came out of the house.
"On pleasure bent again, Papa?"
"Pleasures! And such pleasures that await me back at
Longbourn. I suppose I shall not hear two words of sense again for some time,
for Jane and Bingley are off to town and I shall be left with your mother's
nerves, your sister Mary's sermons and Kitty's coughs."
"When shall you return to Pemberley, Papa?"
"When I am least expected, my dear girl, when I am
least expected."
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