Not in the Habit of Brooking Disappointment
Matters did not improve with the company’s return to Rosings, but then again Elizabeth had not expected it. The tense atmosphere in the carriage did not dissipate the entire journey, and the girl’s continued scowls when they alighted proved her mood did not recover. The moment they entered the house, any thought she might have had of keeping the event from her father disappeared.
“Well, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet upon seeing them, “has your restlessness been alleviated with your excursion?”
When Lydia did not respond, staring stonily at her sisters as she flopped into a chair—provoking Lady Catherine’s frown in response—Mr. Bennet knew something was amiss. As it was clear he would receive no answers from his youngest, he turned to Elizabeth instead.
“Did something happen in Westerham?”
“It did, Papa,” said Elizabeth to Lydia’s renewed scowl.
“Then perhaps you should share it with me, for I would not remain in ignorance.”
The primary responsibility for informing her father fell to Elizabeth, though Mary spoke her piece about the event. Through it all, Mr. Bennet listened with grave intent, his eyes finding his daughter several times. Lydia, it seemed, did not appreciate the scrutiny.
“Well, Lydia?” asked Mr. Bennet when Elizabeth stopped speaking. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“What do you want me to say?” demanded Lydia. “My sisters wish to vilify me, and you appear eager to believe them.”
The arched eyebrow with which Mr. Bennet regarded his youngest spoke volumes concerning his opinion of her behavior. This was not lost on Lydia, though she continued to stare at him in flinty silence.
“Then do you have some other explanation for your disobedience?”
“As I told Lizzy and Mary,” replied Lydia, her tone flippant, “I became lost and could not find them. Perhaps you should ask Mary and Kitty why they left me without a word.”
“If there is one thing I know,” said Mr. Bennet when it appeared Mary would object, “it is that Mary takes her responsibilities seriously. As she was tasked with keeping you in sight, I cannot imagine she would have walked off and left you alone. And as for Kitty, as she is more often than not attached to you with thick cords, I have difficulty imagining her leaving you either. Now, do you wish to inform me what you were doing?”
“I have no wish to repeat myself,” declared the girl, defiance in her very posture.
“Then you may go to your room until you wish to inform us of the truth. I am sorry, Lydia, but though you feel yourself ill-used, the truth is you have not learned to control yourself. You had best consider your actions and determine to do better.”
“And remember you will go to school,” added Mrs. Bennet, her glare at her youngest daughter incongruous with her relationship with the girl. “It seems we cannot teach you to behave yourself, so you will learn in an environment created for that purpose.”
Lydia rose and glared at them all. “I wish I were no longer part of this family. You are all tyrants, punishing me for doing nothing!”
Then the girl whirled on Elizabeth and spat: “And you do not deserve to be the first to marry among us.”
“And you are deserving?” asked Elizabeth, ensuring her sister understood the full measure of her contempt.
For once, Lydia did not deign to respond, instead flouncing from the room in a snit, leaving silence in her wake.
“What we shall do with that girl I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Bennet, wringing her hands in her distress.
“You are doing what you must at present, Mrs. Bennet,” soothed Lady Catherine. “If you show her a united front, she will have little choice but to reform. But you cannot waver, for she has a will of iron and will take any weakness she perceives and exploit it.”
“Could she be telling the truth?” asked Jane, seeming distressed.
“There is little chance of that, Miss Bennet,” said Lord Banbury. “When I found her, she was strutting along the street as if she had not a care in the world. It was not the look of a girl who has been separated from her family and could not find them.”
“Besides,” added Anne, “Westerham is not a large town. I can hardly imagine someone losing themselves in it for two minutes, let alone ten.”
“I suspect she slipped away to prove she could,” said Mr. Bennet. “Leastways, I know of no mischief in which she could engage in Westerham where she knows no one.”
Though it was clear to Elizabeth that Lord Banbury and William did not agree with her father’s assessment, they did not voice any response, allowing the matter to rest instead. Elizabeth did not know what to think; as her father had stated, there was little mischief in which she could engage in such a place. But Elizabeth also knew that her sister was not to be trusted in such matters as these. Whatever she had been doing, Elizabeth did not believe it was entirely innocent.
“Here, this is a fine to do!” exclaimed Anne, fixing Jane with a sly look. “A larger event by far occurred in Westerham today, and yet we have not addressed it!”
Jane’s blush was entirely predictable, as was Mr. Bingley’s sudden grin. Mr. Bennet turned an interested look on his eldest and her suitor, his expression demanding an explanation. Though Jane was still embarrassed, she squared her shoulders to address her father:
“Yes, Papa, Anne is correct. Mr. Bingley has proposed to me and I have accepted.”
Congratulations rolled in from those who had not been present. “I knew you had it in you, Bingley,” said her father, typical to his teasing.
The man appeared startled by the observation, but his grin never dimmed a jot. Mrs. Bennet gave the appearance of wishing to break out into paeans of praise. Controlling herself admirably, she instead rose and went to her eldest daughter, kissing her cheek.
“That is lovely news, Jane. I am certain you shall be a very happy woman.” Then she turned to Mr. Bingley and said: “Thank you for your attention to my daughter, Mr. Bingley. She will make you an excellent wife.”
“I am certain she will, Mrs. Bennet,” said a beaming Mr. Bingley. “And I shall do my best to ensure she is happy.”
“It appears you are putting the cart before the horse, Bingley,” observed Mr. Bennet, his ironic demeanor on display. “For there is one step remaining before you can claim my eldest as your betrothed, is there not?”
Though Mr. Bingley again appeared surprised, he gamely rose and said: “Might I speak to you, Mr. Bennet, about a matter of great import? I wish to ask your permission to wed your eldest daughter.”
“That is better,” replied Mr. Bennet, standing in response. “Let us go to another room and discuss it. I promise it will not hurt. Much.”
The laughter his remark produced was echoed but weakly in Mr. Bingley’s case, though he followed Mr. Bennet from the room. As he departed, the other men cat-called and teased him, assuring him all would be well.
“Do as I did, Bingley,” added William as his friend was exiting through the door. “I demanded his permission in a perfunctory fashion and then changed the subject.”
“Oh, no, Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet. “You deprived me of my fun on that occasion; now I must make up for that lack with Bingley here.”
Had Mr. Bingley been less of a man, Elizabeth was certain he would have fled. It was difficult to see anything other than a man who appeared to believe he was being led to the gallows. The gentlemen agreed with him if their continued bantering was any indication.
The petulance of a young girl determined to believe she was being unjustly persecuted was not the basis for a home filled with harmony. In Miss Lydia Bennet’s case, her determination to be displeased, her dark looks at all with whom she came into contact put a further damper on the company which had been harmonious before. The only respite afforded them was when her father had enough of her testiness and banished her to her room.
“When you wish to release your peevishness, you may rejoin us,” the Bennet patron would say in those times. “Until then, I believe we would all benefit from your absence.”
It took only a day or two of this before Lydia tired of being alone in her room and saw fit to join them, leaving her reproachful glances and irritable statements behind. She remained sullen but was easier for them all to bear.
In those days, the preparation for Darcy’s wedding to Elizabeth continued apace, another factor which seemed to annoy the girl. Ignoring her was a task to which they attended with cheer.
It was a matter of pride for Mr. Collins to officiate at the wedding of his patroness’s nephew to his cousin’s daughter, a fact that the parson made known to them as often as he could. Though Darcy thought better of the man now than he had previously, Mr. Collins was still tiresome at times, and those times when he visited Rosings to speak of the parish or receive instruction from Lady Catherine were chief among those. The man also did not stint in making his displeasure toward Miss Lydia known without disguise.
“Though we all understand it is by no means singular for a young lady to rebel against her parents,” pontificated the parson the first day he visited them after Miss Lydia’s misstep, “it is a situation to be deplored. I would adjure you, Cousin Lydia, in the most strenuous language at my command to consider your behavior and work to amend it. The injuries you might have done to your dear sisters, your parents, and myself and Lady Catherine and all others connected with them, might have caused much distress. For as it is said: ‘A woman’s reputation is no less beautiful than it is fragile.’”
“Thank you for advising our Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet, fixing his cousin with a pointed look. “Perhaps it would be best to allow the matter to rest. We would not wish to browbeat the girl.”
While Lydia directed a glare at both men, Mr. Collins regarded her, a slow nod indicating his agreement. “Yes, I can see that is for the best. It appears you have the matter well in hand, Cousin, and for that I commend you.”
“If you will recall, Lady Catherine,” said the parson, turning back to his patroness, “I am to go to Hertfordshire again on Monday. I shall return to Hunsford by Saturday, so there is no need to engage a replacement for Sunday’s services. The curate has everything else in order.”
“I remember, Mr. Collins,” said Lady Catherine with a nod. “Your wedding date is fast approaching, is it not?”
“It is,” replied Mr. Collins, a beatific smile on his countenance. “We have scheduled it for early June.” Mr. Collins turned to Elizabeth and said: “I hope you will consent to attend, Cousin, for I know it would disappoint Charlotte if you did not.”
“Nothing will keep us away, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, Darcy nodding to her statement. They had already discussed it—whereas she did not wish to marry in front of people who had abused her ill, she did not wish to avoid her friend’s wedding for the same reason.
“Excellent!” said the parson. “I shall convey your promise to my betrothed when I see her on Monday.”
“Mrs. Hill has already been informed of your coming, Mr. Collins,” said Mr. Bennet. “Speak to her if there is anything you require.”
“Thank you for allowing me to stay there, Mr. Bennet. There should be little reason for your staff to put themselves out on my account, for I imagine I will spend every waking hour at Lucas Lodge.”
Mr. Collins then addressed the Bennets. “If you have any correspondence for your neighbors, I shall be happy to convey it to Lucas Lodge. I am certain my dear Charlotte can help dispense it to the proper recipients.”
“Then I shall ready a letter and give it to you on Sunday,” said Elizabeth. “There is no one I wish to write other than Charlotte.”
“That is wonderful, Cousin! Truly, you are an excellent friend to my dear betrothed. I hope this friendship will continue for all the days of your life, and I know Charlotte will echo my hopes in this matter.”
“Trust me, Mr. Collins,” said Elizabeth, “I shall not give up Charlotte’s friendship for anything in the world.”
It was not long after that the parson departed, leaving Darcy in Elizabeth’s company. With so many people present, however, the situation was not conducive for private discourse, leading Darcy to propose a walk in the garden.
“Is it wise to tempt fate, William?” asked Elizabeth when they had donned their coats and gloves and set out for the garden paths. “Mr. Wickham is out there, after all. Are you not afraid he will attempt to whisk me away to who knows where?”
Catching the teasing note in her voice, Darcy responded in a like manner: “Do not fear, fair maiden, for I can protect you against all danger, including that posed by cowards and other such ilk.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily and skipped forward a few paces, then turning to face him. “Of that, I have no doubt. Particularly when there are at least two footmen within fifty yards of us.”
Unable to suppress a chuckle, Darcy approached her and tucked her hand into his arm again. “It does not surprise me that you have spied our escorts.”
“I dare say that Mr. Thompson is so large that he would have difficulty hiding in a forest!”
This time Darcy replied with a hearty laugh. “Far from being offended by such a statement, I believe Thompson would wear it like a badge of pride.”
Though she grinned in response, Elizabeth soon turned pensive. “Do you suppose Mr. Wickham is still nearby?”
“It is difficult to say,” replied Darcy. “We have heard nothing of him for several days, and yet his behavior of late suggests he would not surrender with so little trouble. I know not what he intends, but I do not think he has given up his designs.”
Elizabeth nodded and changed the subject, and for the rest of their walk, they discussed the future, their plans for their wedding journey, and Mary’s inclusion in the scheme. “Perhaps Mary will accompany Jane and Mr. Bingley when they depart for their wedding trip. As Kitty and Lydia are not considerations, she will be the only choice.”
“What a wonderful opportunity for her,” replied Darcy, catching her ironic tone. “It will do her some good, I think.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Elizabeth. “Mary has been an observer of life for far too long. It is beyond the time she should be a participant.” Then she turned a sly look on him and added: “Or maybe she will prefer to stay with us.”
“She will be welcome if she does,” replied Darcy. “Her friendship with Georgiana has deepened; I think they are good for each other, for they are not unalike.”
“That is true,” said Elizabeth. She looked on him, love emanating from her very being. “Thank you for being so open to my sister staying with us, William, for it means the world to me.”
“You know I am happy to do anything that will bring you pleasure.”
“And I feel the same way about you. I think, Mr. Darcy, that we shall be happy together. The one concern I have is what we shall do when we argue, for we have never been at odds.”
“We shall work it out like every other couple has since the beginning of time,” replied Darcy. “As long as we pledge to remember our love for each other, all will be well.”
Elizabeth’s agreement shone in her eyes, though she did not respond. Their conversation for the rest of their walk strayed to more desultory subjects, for what use were words when the depth of feeling between them spoke in a far louder voice than anything they could vocalize?
It was unfortunate, but this good feeling between them did not persist after their return to Rosings. It was none of their doing, for others intruded, in particular in the person of his cousin, who chose that moment to renew his flirting behavior with Elizabeth.
As he watched Banbury, annoyance welling up within in, Darcy wondered if he should speak to his cousin and demand to know what he was doing. A conversation he overheard between Banbury and his brother decided the matter, provoking Darcy’s resolve to have done with it.
“It may be best if you stopped flirting with Miss Elizabeth, Brother,” said Fitzwilliam in the moments before they were to go to dinner. “You will cause Darcy’s temper to snap if you do not.”
Banbury’s response was an insouciant laugh. “Do not concern yourself, Anthony. Darcy knows I am no threat to his happiness. Should I not speak to her at all?”
“Speaking is fine, Brother. Your manner has grown more flirtatious since your arrival. If it was me, I might have called you out already.”
“Then it is fortunate that Darcy is not you.”
It was a conversation he might have thought would be reversed, for Fitzwilliam had always been the more heedless of the two brothers. As Banbury was the highest-ranked man in the room, it was his duty to escort Lady Catherine to the dining room, leaving Darcy free to ensure he had Elizabeth’s company to himself. When the ladies rose and made their way to the sitting-room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Darcy could wait no longer.
“Cousin,” said he, drawing Banbury’s attention to him, “I wish to know what you are about with your recent actions directed toward Elizabeth.”
“I must own,” said Mr. Bennet, “I have been wondering that myself.”
Whatever Darcy expected in his cousin’s response, it was not the mirth to which his chuckle attested. “I had wondered when you would speak, Darcy.” Then Banbury inclined his head to Mr. Bennet and added: “If I have overstepped in my little game, I apologize, Mr. Bennet. I did not intend to dishonor your daughter or to cause her any consternation.”
Mr. Bennet returned the viscount’s look, bemusement evident on his countenance. “While it might have been an interesting experience for a man of my situation to take a future earl to task for his behavior, I believe my daughter has no injuries for which I must demand recompense. Lizzy appears quite unaffected, and even a little entertained by your recent behavior.”
“Yes, that was my observation as well,” replied Banbury. “I am afraid you have little notion what a woman’s indifference does to the pride of a man of my station. It is not a sensation with which I was previously familiar, Mr. Bennet; I feel it keenly.”
While Mr. Bennet released his mirth at Banbury’s statement, Darcy regarded him with a critical eye. As for the other gentlemen in the room, Bingley watched with complaisance, likely grateful the viscount had not chosen to ply Miss Bennet with his attentions, while Fitzwilliam looked on with much the same amusement as Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Collins with wide-eyed disbelief.
“Then this was nothing more than a game?” demanded Darcy.
“It was certainly not a game,” replied Banbury. “It was more akin to a trial, though I suppose that is not the word either.”
“I suspect you had best explain at once, Brother,” observed Fitzwilliam. “It will not be long before Darcy is provoked to call you out.”
“He cannot call me out,” replied Banbury with a dismissive wave. “I am not only a viscount, but I am also his cousin.”
“That remains to be seen,” replied Darcy.
Banbury laughed and said: “Then I shall tell you all, Darcy. For you see, when I learned of your interest in a young woman of little prominence in society—I beg your pardon, Mr. Bennet—I was curious to know what sort of woman she was, for I did not think you would set aside the possibility of a large dowry or connections to another earl for a woman of little interest.”
“In that, you are correct,” replied Darcy, spearing his cousin with an impatient look. “Elizabeth is in every way exceptional. Shall you not come to the point?”
“Of course, I will, “said Banbury, still chuckling. “I must agree with you that your young lady is exceptional. If I had met her first, I cannot imagine I would have resisted her allure any more than you did. Then I wondered if greater position and consequence in society would tempt her.”
“So you tried to tempt her away from me.” The flat stare with which he regarded his cousin was nothing Banbury should not have expected.
“You suppose I would do such a thing?” asked Banbury.
“It seems like that is what you are saying,” replied Darcy.
“Come, Cousin, give me a little more credit than that. Yes, I did flirt with her, interested to see if she would show even a hint of interest in me. But no, I would never have gone so far as to attempt to take her from you. You would not have stood for such a thing—this I am well aware.
“I am happy to report that not even once did I see an iota of curiosity which was out of the common way. Miss Elizabeth is a jewel, Darcy, and I cannot but commend you for remaining true to her in the face of all you have endured, particularly the pressure exerted by my father.”
“The earl set you on this path?” demanded Darcy.
“My father would never involve himself with such things,” replied Banbury. “I heard much of the situation from him, and he asked me to speak with you and argue you from your position. I informed him it was fruitless, especially as you had already proposed. My mild flirting with Miss Elizabeth was not an attempt to injure you, Darcy. I will own she drew me in with her magnetic charm, perhaps more than I should have been. But I would never have gone beyond what I did.”
Darcy considered his cousin. In part, he was annoyed that Banbury had thought to try Elizabeth as he had, though he was gratified that she had not responded; knowing Elizabeth as he did, Darcy knew she would not be swayed. On the other hand, Darcy had no desire to be at odds with his cousin, for he esteemed him and his brother above every other man of his acquaintance.
“Then you have seen enough to desist?” asked Darcy.
“You had best listen, my lord,” guffawed Mr. Bennet. “That is no less than a challenge.”
“Quite enough, old man,” replied his cousin, joining Mr. Bennet in his humor. “You have nothing to fear from me, though I will not commit to not flirt with her. She is, as I have said, a jewel among women. I dare say she will keep you on your toes throughout all the years of your marriage.”
“Very well then,” said Darcy. “As long as we agree.”
Contrary to his projected confidence, Banbury appeared relieved Darcy had allowed the matter to rest with so little fuss. That did not mean that Darcy intended to allow his cousin to continue to flirt with his betrothed. On the contrary, he meant to reserve Elizabeth’s company for himself. Or perhaps he would inform her of his cousin’s actions and allow her to flay him with her tongue. That would be diverting enough to be worth the price of admission.