Page 12 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

M r. Darcy waited a few days before returning to Longbourn. He wanted to make certain that Mr. Descartes’ wise words about the unreliability of the five senses had fully taken root in his mind, and so he spent those two days carefully re-writing his notes regarding the management of Netherfield.

When he was certain he could trust himself to be the rational, intelligent, careful man he knew himself to be, he walked to Longbourn.

He was greeted at the door by Mr. Hill, who took his hat and coat and then escorted him to Mr. Bennet’s study.

Mr. Darcy’s relief at not being shown into the drawing room, where he might encounter Miss Elizabeth, was short-lived, as that young lady was sitting in the study, right there in the chair he himself usually occupied, laughing gaily with her father.

“And then the man beside me said – oh, good morning, Mr. Darcy!” She rose and curtsied.

Automatically, he bowed and returned her greeting.

Good Lord, had he thought her pretty? Beautiful?

These words were utterly inadequate. All thought of René Descartes flew from his mind at once.

“You look very well this morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, unconsciously straightening to his full height and deepening his voice.

“I thank you, Mr. Darcy. Any praise regarding my appearance must go to my aunt, as it was she who selected this frock for me while I was in London.”

“I think you give yourself too little credit, Miss Elizabeth, as I am certain that it is you who adorn the frock, not the other way around.” Mr. Darcy listened to himself in astonishment.

He was flirting with the girl! Good Lord, he had never flirted with anyone in his entire life!

But he seemed unable to stop. “You enjoyed yourself in London, I take it?”

“Very much! But if I am honest, I am a country girl at heart and could never be truly happy living always in Town.”

“I am in complete agreement with you, Miss Elizabeth.”

“You do not live in Town, then, Mr. Darcy?”

“No, I live in Derbyshire, and come to Town only periodically. I do enjoy the theater, of course, and the museums, but it is not long until I find myself longing for the sight of forests and lakes.”

“That is it exactly, Mr. Darcy!” She beamed at him, and he felt his heart beating fast.

He heard Mr. Bennet clear his throat loudly and looked over at him. The man was frowning and shaking his head. Ah. He was supposed to ‘not toy’ with this favoured daughter! Incredibly enough, it was he who was in danger, not she, but he could hardly say that.

“I believe your father is eager for his chess match,” he told her. She nodded at once, and his heart sank when she curtsied to him and left the room. Bennet’s study seemed suddenly dark.

“What did I tell you, Darcy?” Bennet’s voice was practically a growl.

“I apologise from the bottom of my heart, Bennet. The truth is that I do not seem able to help myself!” Mr. Darcy sounded completely baffled, and Mr. Bennet was disposed to take pity on him.

“My Lizzy is a lovely girl, inside and out, and I cannot blame any man who finds himself attracted to her. But I cannot, I will not, allow you to hurt her, Darcy.”

“In all honesty, I suspect I am the only one who will be hurt,” Mr. Darcy said. “I cannot marry her, of course, but I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame.” He realised that this was not the sort of conversation one should have with a young lady’s father.

“Perhaps you should return to Derbyshire,” Mr. Bennet said. “I have had enough bad news today, and I do not need any further complications.”

“Bad news? I am sorry to hear it.”

“Here, read this and tell me what you make of it.” Mr. Bennet reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a rather long letter.

Mr. Darcy sat down and began to read. After the first few paragraphs, he glanced down at the signature, trying to understand the context of the letter. It was signed William Collins . “Who is this William Collins?” he asked, looking across the desk at Mr. Bennet.

“He is the heir presumptive of the estate and may turn my wife and daughters out into the street upon my death.” Mr. Bennet’s voice was level and calm.

“You have never met him?”

“No, nor have I any wish to. I knew his father, and that was enough.”

“But –“

“Finish the letter.”

Mr. Darcy obediently bent his eye back to the letter and was amazed to learn, by the end of it, that this was the very same Collins that his Aunt Catherine had suggested would officiate at his wedding to Anne de Bourgh!

“You look everything astonished, Mr. Darcy.”

He would not admit that the Lady Catherine de Bourgh mentioned in the letter was his own aunt, so instead he said, “The man is clearly a fool.”

“Yes, and a fool who intends to spend a good deal of time in my house at his own invitation.”

“But would it not be rational to be as good and generous to the man as possible, given how much power he has over your family?”

Mr. Bennet bent a satirical eye upon his guest. “Could you tolerate such a man, let alone be good and generous?”

Mr. Darcy thought about his sister. “I can tell you in complete honesty that were such a man to have sway over my own sister’s future, I would tolerate a good deal worse with complete composure.”

Mr. Bennet stared at him for a long minute and then sighed. “I suppose you are right,” he said, glumly.

“What does Mrs. Bennet say?”

“Nothing, as she does not yet know of the proposed visit.”

Mr. Darcy considered this. It was now the middle of October, and Mr. Collins would arrive in a month’s time. “Do you not think you should do so?”

“Frankly, Mr. Darcy, there will be so much caterwauling about the unfairness of the entail that I thought to wait until the last possible moment before informing her of her uninvited and unwelcome guest.”

Mr. Darcy was silent, but his countenance spoke a good deal.

“You think I am wrong then,” Mr. Bennet observed.

“It does not seem rational to me, sir, but you know your family circumstances far better than I.”

“What would be rational, then?”

“To allow your wife and daughters to read the letter for themselves, and then discuss as a family how the situation will be handled.”

“Why my daughters?”

“Because it is clear from this letter that he intends to offer for one of your daughters, and this is information that they should have in sufficient time to contemplate what it might mean to them.”

“I suppose you are right, though I shall have to bear a good deal of complaining,” Mr. Bennet said. His tone was peevish.

The two men then settled over the chessboard and spoke no more about Mr. Collins or Miss Elizabeth.

***

After Mr. Darcy had left Longbourn, Mr. Bennet settled back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Mr. Darcy had given him a great deal to think about.

His point about sharing the letter from Mr. Collins with his family had been an excellent one.

How had he, Bennet, not arrived at that conclusion himself?

After a long period of self-reflection, he concluded that it had been his habit to act neither rationally nor emotionally, but simply – he winced at the word – indolently.

His preferred path was that of least resistance.

Surely this was not how a gentleman should behave, particularly not one with a wife and five daughters! He resolved to do better.