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Authors: Jack Caldwell

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What Elizabeth could
not
put out of her mind, however, was why she even cared.

Besides her musings, there was another cause for Elizabeth’s inattention to her work. Her mother and Jane were still scolding Lydia for her earlier behavior, and her youngest sister was taking it poorly.

“But I do not see where I was wrong,” she insisted. “I only said Mr. Wickham was our friend and that Miss Darcy was not. How can she be our friend when we just met her?”

Jane continued to explain. “Lydia, can you not see how rude it was? You implied that we do not want to be friends with her.”

“I said nothing of the sort! I am willing to associate with her, but I hate her brother! I am sure that Mr. Bingley would have held a ball for us if not for Mr. Darcy’s stupid fall!”

“Oh, you foolish girl!” cried Mrs. Bennet. This was a wondrous occasion as it was exceedingly rare for her to berate her favorite. “By insulting Miss Darcy, you anger Mr. Darcy! My Brother Philips says that Mr. Darcy can sue us out of house and home should he choose to do so! We must not do anything to displease him!”

“But what of Wickham?”

Elizabeth had enough. “Lydia! We told you what Colonel Fitzwilliam said. Mr. Wickham has not been truthful with us.”

“Yes,” said Kitty, disagreeing with Lydia for the first time. “The colonel said not to believe anything Mr. Wickham says.”

“But Wickham is so handsome and pleasant, and the colonel is so old, severe, and plain!”

“Lydia, enough!” Mrs. Bennet wagged her finger at her. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has the right of it! After all, he is in the regulars and the son of an earl! He is far better than a poor lieutenant of militia, no matter how charming! Your father has decreed that none of us acknowledge Mr. Wickham’s existence ever again! You will do as you are told, or you will be kept in the house until that scoundrel leaves the neighborhood!”

“But, Mama — ”

“Oh, what you do to my nerves! Cease this caterwauling! You would do better to save your breath and try to catch Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eye. He has far more to give, I will wager!”

Lydia’s eyes popped open. “Mama!”

“And Mr. Darcy is not so bad,” her mother continued in a calmer voice. “He has been very complimentary to Cook, and I have no doubt he has a kitchen full of French cooks at his Pemberley. Look how he defended us before that horrid Lady Catherine.” She turned to Elizabeth. “I am sorry, my love. I shall try to bear her as best I can for your sake, but she is a most disagreeable person!”

Elizabeth blanched. Her mother still planned on her marrying Mr. Collins! “Mother — ”

“Unlike Mr. Darcy,” her mother gushed. “He improves upon acquaintance. So handsome and so rich!” She looked at her daughters. “How fine it would be to have four daughters married! I would go distracted! Yes, Mr. Bingley for Jane, Mr. Collins for Lizzy — ”

“Mother!” cried Elizabeth and Jane together.

“And if Lydia can secure Colonel Fitzwilliam — ”


Mama!
” cried Lydia.

“Why, that would leave my last two darling girls for Mr. Darcy!” She eyed a perplexed Mary and a hopeful Kitty. Mrs. Bennet’s face fell. “Oh, well, I suppose a man as grand as Mr. Darcy would have his choice of the cream of society, but it is a delightful conjecture!”

* * *

Mr. Bennet sat back in a chair in the sickroom, hands clasped over his midsection. All the gentlemen awaited his response to Darcy’s full rendition of his family’s dealings with George Wickham.

“I thank you for this intelligence, sir. Your Mr. Wickham is a nasty piece of business, it seems. The information regarding your sister will go no further, I assure you, Mr. Darcy. As for my house, I had already announced that Longbourn is closed to him. I shall now reinforce my decree by forbidding any future contact with the rascal in Meryton, as well.”

The four others shared a look. “That is advisable, sir,” allowed Fitzwilliam, “but we had in mind a more permanent solution to our problem.” He then outlined their plans.

At the end of the colonel’s recitation, Mr. Bennet nodded. “Your plans sound effective — and expensive. I wish you good fortune.”

“Mr. Bennet,” Colonel Fitzwilliam patiently said, “there is a reason we have brought you into our confidence. We need your assistance.”

“Me? Whatever for? How can I help you?” Mr. Bennet frowned. “You do not need money, do you? For if you do, I must sadly decline.”

“It is not a matter of funds but of legitimacy,” said Darcy. “We must go and speak to your neighbors. Your presence in our group as head of one of Meryton’s most prominent families will help loosen tongues and encourage trust.”

“I thank you for the compliment, but I would rather not.”

“But, sir,” cried Bingley, “we need your assistance most urgently!”

“Oh, I do not think so,” Mr. Bennet gently rebuffed him. “You are popular enough about the village, Mr. Bingley, and I am sure the merchants will be more tempted by the money in your purse than by the attendance of an old man like me. Besides, this sort of business is not my cup of tea.”

“I must insist upon you participation, no matter your personal aversion to it,” Darcy said. “This enterprise cannot have any possibility of failure, for there is more to this state of affairs than a few debts.” He had anticipated Mr. Bennet’s reluctance and launched into his prepared argument. “Forgive me, sir, but your daughters may be in danger.”

“Oh, come now. I may be a gentleman, but compared to you, I am a pauper. My girls are too poor to be the target of a fortune hunter.”

“Lack of funds will not stop Wickham in matters of this sort.” Darcy paused. “Nor status of birth.”

Mr. Bennet blinked. He had obviously thought Wickham not as bad as this. “You are saying he is capable of dallying with a lady of gentle birth? To affect the ruin of a girl that is by no means defenseless?” He sat up. “By Jove, it is so great a violation of decency, honor, and interest as to make it difficult to believe even Mr. Wickham capable of it.”

Darcy was grim. “I believe him capable. Indeed, I
know
him capable. I possess proofs that cannot be denied showing that he has been profligate in
every
sense of the word, that he has neither integrity nor honor, and that he is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating. Even now, I support two consequences of Wickham’s debauchery at Pemberley — one a farmer’s daughter, the other the only child of a local attorney. Both were promised marriage, but after the ladies found themselves in distress, Wickham was nowhere to be found.”

Mr. Bennet turned white. “I see.” He seemed to consider his guest’s claims. “The assistance provided to those poor unfortunates — you are very generous, sir. Many would do differently.”

Darcy shrugged. “They are my people. What say you, sir? Will you join us?”

Mr. Bennet sighed resignedly. “It seems I must.”

“Excellent.” Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his hand. “We shall begin first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. The others took Mr. Bennet’s words as a joke.

Fitzwilliam continued. “We require one thing of you, sir: a list of the merchants in Meryton that a solider would most likely frequent and who are not opposed to extending credit. That way we may be able to plan our calls with greater efficiency.”

Mr. Bennet looked pained. “You need this today?”

“Within the hour would be best,” the colonel said.

“Shall I get you pen and paper, sir?” offered Bartholomew.

Mr. Bennet groaned and got to his feet. “No, I have sufficient store of both in my book room.” He made for the door but turned back just as he reached it. “Today?”

“Yes, if you please.” Fitzwilliam smiled.

Mr. Bennet sighed again, turned, and left, saying as he closed the door behind him, “The things I do for my family.”

Chapter 7

T
HE NEXT DAY DAWNED
as cloudy and rainy as the days before, thwarting Elizabeth’s plans for a long walk. The weather prevented any visit from the ladies in residence at Netherfield but not from the gentlemen. To the surprise of all and the consternation of some, the object of Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s visit was not to call on Mrs. Bennet and her daughters but to collect her husband to accompany the gentlemen on what was described cryptically as “business in the village.” Mr. Bennet had given no indication that he was to undertake such an errand and, as he left, gave no clue as to what the business might be. This, of course, gave rise to much speculation by the Bennet ladies, so much so that hardly anyone noticed that Bartholomew had joined their company.

The ladies were in the sitting room, and many were the theories bandied about. Mrs. Bennet was sure that Mr. Bingley had run into difficulties at Netherfield and needed Mr. Bennet’s assistance. Lydia was having none of that. She was convinced, despite the total absence of corroborating evidence, that the gentlemen were instead planning a surprise ball for the coming week, a conjecture eagerly endorsed by Kitty. Mary was certain that such sensible men would not waste their time on trivial matters, but she could give no opinion as to their real business. Jane was undecided, as was Elizabeth, but unlike her sister, Jane voiced that it was indeed possible that either Mrs. Bennet or Lydia was correct. Kitty, true to her inconstant personality, wondered aloud if they both could be correct, a suggestion roundly rejected by the others assembled.

Jane had just turned to ask Elizabeth’s opinion when Mr. Collins made his first appearance downstairs in two days.

“Madam,” said he to Mrs. Bennet, “as you know, my leave of absence from Hunsford extends only for another week. Therefore, may I solicit the honor of a private audience with your fair daughter Elizabeth during the course of this morning?”

One could hear a pin drop in the aftermath of this request. Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered, “Oh dear! Yes, certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy — I am sure she can have no objection. Come, girls, come away. I need you all upstairs.”

The matron gathered her work together, and the other girls rose to their feet in differing manners of expression — Jane concerned, Mary shocked, and Kitty and Lydia amused.

“Mama, do not go, please,” Elizabeth called out. “Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that we all cannot hear.”

Mrs. Bennet paused for a moment, hesitated, and then said, “No, Lizzy. I desire that you stay where you are.” Upon seeing Elizabeth’s vexed and embarrassed look, she added firmly, “I
insist
that you stay and hear Mr. Collins.” She concluded in a more hopeful voice, “All will be well, my dear.”

Elizabeth could not oppose such an injunction, and after a moment’s consideration, she deemed it wise to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible. She sat down again. Mrs. Bennet and the others walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.

“Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, your modesty, so far from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse; my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life.

“But before I am run away by my feelings on this subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying — and, moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of selecting a wife, as I certainly did.”

The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with
any
emotion made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not use the short pause he made to gather his thoughts to stop him from continuing further.

Mr. Collins then launched into a rambling monologue on the subject of his motives for matrimony. Every girl dreams of a declaration of love and devotion from her lover, and Elizabeth was no different. Mr. Collins’s speech, for all his talk of emotions, was as far from this lady’s ideal of a proposal as any man could make. Rather than beauty, character, kindness, and love, Mr. Collins spoke of duty, economy, and deference. The most outrageous statement he made indicated he was led to seek an alliance with the family at Longbourn not out of a personal desire to bridge the breech between the Bennet and Collins families, but solely on the advice of Lady Catherine de Bourgh! He claimed that, should his choice of wife satisfy the exacting standards of that august personage, the grand dame would condescend to visit her.

“Allow me to observe, my fair cousin,” he said, “that I do not calculate that Lady Catherine de Bourgh will hold her most justifiable resentment over her nephew’s un-gentlemanly abandonment of the lovely Miss de Bough against you or your family as long as proper deference is paid. No one of your station could influence someone of Mr. Darcy’s rank. Therefore, there must have been some great negligence in
his
upbringing for him to so throw off all notions of duty and what is owed to my most exalted patroness, his aunt.”

The reader may be assured that this statement did away with any amusement Elizabeth may have felt in listening to his ridiculous proposal, but Mr. Collins continued too quickly to be interrupted.

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