Page 44

UNHAPPY FOR ALL HER MATERNAL FEELINGS

D arcy was obliged to lean against the front wall of Mrs Randall’s house for two hours before gaining admittance.

Nobody had answered his repeated knocking, but he had seen someone looking down from an upstairs window, so he knew he was being deliberately left waiting.

It turned out to be Mrs Randall and her maid lurking within, for it was Mrs Bennet’s return that brought an end to the impasse.

She held her chin up in prim defiance as she acknowledged him but made no attempt to avoid the meeting he requested.

The maid gave a great show of not having heard the door when they entered the house; Mrs Randall paid no attention to Darcy whatsoever and directed Mrs Bennet to a small parlour at the back of the house, reluctantly agreeing to have tea sent up.

Darcy had thought long and hard about what he ought to say during the interview.

Now that he was here, his carefully prepared speech seemed wildly inappropriate.

The woman was empty-headed and absurd, but she was clearly distressed—and she was Elizabeth’s mother.

For that alone, she would always have his respect.

“May I suggest we sit down?” He pulled out a chair for her from the small table in front of the window.

She eased into it, maintaining her air of affected dignity.

He sat opposite her, noticing that she seemed reluctant to meet his gaze.

He concluded that she must be aware he knew something of what had transpired at Netherfield.

Whether she knew that he had witnessed it, he could not guess and prodigiously hoped he would not be required to mention it.

“Mrs Bennet, it is time for you to go home. Your continued absence from Longbourn is putting your daughters’ reputations in danger, while your continued presence in town is every day increasing the risk that the reason for your absence will be discovered.”

Her colour deepened. “I cannot imagine what you think you are referring to, Mr Darcy, but it scarcely signifies, for it is no business of yours where I pass my time.”

“Perhaps not, but I hope to make it my business very soon.”

She turned to stare at him. “You mean…Lizzy?”

“I do.”

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob but which, to Darcy’s profound relief, did not advance to weeping.

“Oh! Why, I never thought…I heard the reports, but I never believed you would marry her because…well, because you knew . You knew that I…” She closed her eyes. “I thought I had ruined both their chances. Jane’s and Lizzy’s.”

“I almost allowed it to, before I came to my senses. But it goes without saying that I am not eager to connect myself to a family that has the threat of ruin hanging over it. I have my sister to consider. That is why I need you to go home.”

Mrs Bennet had already begun shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Out of the question.”

“You would compound your offence by becoming permanently estranged from your husband, bringing shame upon all five of your unwed daughters?”

“My daughters are… An estrangement is not… Oh, what do men know?” She tutted as though he were the one being unreasonable. “I have explained this to Lizzy. She assured me she understood.”

Darcy held his tongue. Much had changed since Elizabeth last spoke to her mother, but he had no intention of repeating his mistake of revealing too much on this subject. In the end, it did not matter, because Mrs Bennet guessed.

Her face fell. “She has found out, has she not?” She did not wait for him to answer and let out a wail.

“I knew she would! What was she thinking, chasing me about town in that reckless manner, pestering Mrs Randall, asking a thousand questions—oh! What is to become of me now?” She rose from her chair and began to flounce about the small room, making self-pitying noises.

Darcy watched with a sense of wonder that Bingley had ever found it alluring.

“Miss Elizabeth has been excessively concerned for you. Your evasions have caused her considerable difficulty.”

“I left my home to spare my family from discovering my wickedness, and the silly girl followed me here and brought Jane with her! I tried to persuade her to take her sister home, to stay away from me, but she would not listen. She never listens!”

“Pardon me for speaking frankly, madam, but I have been witness to Miss Elizabeth’s recent troubles, and I cannot hear with any calmness of temper your attempt to blame her for your present feelings of dishonour.

She has found out what happened precisely because you left Longbourn in disgrace.

Had you shown half her courage and stayed at home to face your shame, nobody would have suspected.

Now you, she, and all your daughters are in an untenable situation.

You must go home, for their sake, no matter how uncomfortable it may be for you. ”

Mrs Bennet jumped slightly when the door opened, and the maid came in with a tea tray, which she deposited unceremoniously on the table.

“Are you planning on taking much longer?” came a terse enquiry from the doorway.

Upon noticing Mrs Randall, Darcy came to his feet, though her manner scarcely warranted the courtesy. She looked on with a contemptuous sneer and crossed arms, showing no concern for her friend’s obvious distress and even less for the way her maid was banging crockery down on the table.

“I shall try to keep it brief, my dear,” Mrs Bennet said with false cheer.

Mrs Randall gave a dismissive grunt and summoned her maid to attend her, shutting the door firmly behind them both. Mrs Bennet winced and returned to the table to begin fussing with the tea things.

After regarding her for a moment, Darcy asked, “Mrs Randall does not like you to have visitors?”

Mrs Bennet waved her hand airily. “It depends on the visitor.”

He raised an eyebrow. He may have been taught some important lessons about pride of late, but he felt no compunction in questioning Mrs Randall’s right to look down her nose at him, given that her entire way of life was supported by a gentleman of very similar distinction to himself.

Mrs Bennet must have seen his displeasure, for she began to prevaricate.

“You must not blame her for her ill opinion. To be sure, she knows no actual good of you—only that Mr Bi—” She faltered.

“Your friend has been avoiding you for fear of a terrible dressing down, and that you slighted my Lizzy the first time you met her.”

Disagreeable though it was to hear all his recent missteps laid out, it could not distract Darcy from Mrs Bennet’s obvious discomposure.

All her usual stridency had gone from her voice, and the colour had drained from her countenance.

He watched as she poured the tea with trembling hands, spilling a good proportion of it into the saucer, then all but dropped the teapot onto the table and slumped into her chair.

“It will not do! The truth is, it is not you with whom she is angry—it is me. She wants me to leave, not bring extra visitors to her door. You are right—my situation is wholly untenable.”

Darcy expected her at every moment to begin lamenting or gesticulating, but she only sat forlornly in her seat, staring at the spilt tea. He had never seen her less demonstrative.

“I thought I understood that Mrs Randall was your friend.”

“She was—she is. She took me in without hesitation when I came, in dread of…consequences of…what I had done.”

Darcy baulked. There had been a possibility of a child, then. Bingley knew not how fortunate he was.

“There were none,” she continued. “And for a while, we had a jolly time of it, sharing reminiscences. But her generosity has reached its limit, both in real terms and in spirit. And I grow weary of making myself scarce whenever she has visitors. There are only so many times one can go into a shop without buying anything, and I have never been fond of walking, though I seem to have done little else but walk up and down of late.”

“Could you not have visited another of your friends if you are not tolerated here?”

“I have no friends in town beyond my brother, and I could not go to his house, for Jane is there.”

Darcy could only imagine Elizabeth’s distress were she to know that her mother had been walking the streets of London, alone and lonely, when all the while they had been imagining her cavorting about with Bingley.

Mrs Bennet’s shame must be deep indeed to prefer solitude and scorn to facing her family.

“This is a distressing account, but you must see that it all amounts to the same thing. You must go home.”

“You do not understand,” she whispered desperately.

“I have nothing to go home to. My husband holds me in contempt. You probably think he is justified, for I know you think I am foolish. I am used to men thinking it. But Mr Bennet reviles me for it. He would rather make sport of my deficiency than ever explain a thing to me. He has about as much respect for me as he does the pigs on the home farm. Perhaps less, for the pigs invariably bear sons.”

“Mrs Bennet, please, I did not mean?—”

She silenced him with a shake of her head. “And now my daughters will despise me too. Longbourn is entailed—we none of us know how long we shall have a roof over our heads. My only job was to find them husbands before we lose our home, and I have failed. In the worst possible way.”

Darcy was not unmoved by her plight. He did not like to hear of any person’s unhappiness, not least anyone about whom Elizabeth cared so deeply, yet it did not change the fact that Mrs Bennet had a duty to her daughters.

He inhaled in readiness to try again to persuade her to change her mind, when she continued speaking, her voice now a whisper and her expression one of abject misery.