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“I was trying to help, you know, when it happened. Jane was finding it so difficult to put herself forwards—she has a terrible natural modesty that no amount of cajoling from me has ever been able to shift. I only meant to encourage him, to put him in the right frame of mind that he might be more receptive to her charms. Only then, he did not laugh at me, or look at me with pity or derision. I had forgotten what it felt like to be desirable and had certainly given up hope of ever feeling it again before I am too old. It was wicked, and I shall never forgive myself, but I…”

She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I am not clever, Mr Darcy. I have no money of my own, nor the respect of my family or friends—even my home is not truly mine. But I have always had my looks. When they are gone, I shall be left with nothing. Lizzy will never truly understand this, for long after her looks fade, she will still have her mind—and that girl’s mind is a fearsome thing. But I shall have nothing at all.”

It was difficult not to look at her with pity at that moment.

He had never considered what it must be to live with the constant fear of losing one’s home.

Complicated by a want of understanding, fortune, and connexions, it must be terrifying.

In this new light, the desperation to see her daughters settled which had early on made Mrs Bennet appear disgracefully mercenary, and the personal anguish which had led to her unconscionable indiscretion, were much more easily understood.

The fleeting consideration of how he would feel were it his mother in such straits was enough to let him know how to act.

“It seems certain that you will end up with nothing a good deal sooner if you stay here,” he said—gently but firmly.

“Either Mrs Randall will turn you out, or your estrangement, perhaps even the reason for it, will become known. And bear in mind my hope of marrying your daughter. If your actions bring ruin upon her, there is a chance that you will bring me down with you, and then I shall be of no help to any of you.”

He leant forwards slightly, resting his forearm on the table and dipping his head to better catch Mrs Bennet’s eye.

“But if you go home, I give you my word that I shall look after you. I can make no promises about your happiness in marriage, but I can relieve you of the worry of being without a home—of your daughters being destitute. You might even be able to enjoy some of those perquisites of town that have been denied to you on this occasion.”

Darcy hoped Mrs Bennet would not make him regret this promise, either in the future, by giving more of her humiliating public appearances, or in the present moment, by dissolving into hysteria. For now, however, she remained uncharacteristically, almost painfully subdued.

“How shall I face them?”

“You must find a way. I am sorry it is so, but it is a fact of the world in which we live that to give up your situation would be disastrous for you and your daughters. You might remind yourself of your duty to them if ever your courage falters.”

He had not meant this to sound so much like censure and so made another attempt.

“I make no excuses for what you have done, but neither can I condone the neglect of one’s spouse.

Yours is clearly not the only harm that has been done to your marriage.

Perhaps you will allow that fact to help you make peace with yourself. ”

She regarded him in silence for a moment or two before speaking. “I am exceedingly sorry that I spoke ill of you in Hertfordshire. You are the very model of good breeding. Indeed, I do not think I have ever known such kindness. Lizzy does not realise how fortunate she is.”

Darcy rather thought that if Elizabeth consented to marry him, he would be the fortunate one. Nevertheless, he was not above taking advantage of every method of persuasion available to him.

“She may never know if you do not put an end to this unfortunate affair and go home so that I might get on and propose to her.”

The matter was settled; Mrs Bennet gave her grudging consent to being returned to Hertfordshire in his carriage the next day.

She asked of him two favours before he left: that he would deliver a letter to Elizabeth, which she would write that afternoon, and that he would promise only to offer for her if he was certain—absolutely certain—that he loved her.

“Lizzy will be neither happy nor respectable unless she is truly esteemed by her husband—unless he looks upon her as his equal,” she told him.

“Her lively talents would place her in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. She could scarcely escape the discredit and misery I have discovered. Let me not have the grief of seeing her disrespected by her partner in life.”

Darcy could not help but smile. “Madam, your daughter and I are not equals. Miss Elizabeth is my superior in every way. And if she will have me, I shall devote the rest of my days to the admiration of her lively talents.”