Page 14 of It Taught Me to Hope

“T hat is admirable, Brother!” said Georgiana when Darcy informed her of his conversation with Mason at Netherfield. “Do you suppose it was all bravado, or does he believe he will succeed with her?”

Darcy considered his conversation with the objectionable man. “I am unconvinced either way. It is not beyond his ability to bluff, but I have seen nothing to suggest he sees Miss Bennet’s disinclination for his company. He might, of course, but if he does, he hides it well.”

Georgiana regarded him. “Then you do not believe him.”

“I believe he means to impose himself on her,” replied Darcy. “ He believes he will succeed. Having been in his situation before and knowing what I know now, I suspect he will end as disappointed as I did, though his disappointment will spring from the loss of her estate to add to his rather than the loss of an excellent woman who would make his life complete. Once I understood this and gained knowledge of myself, my regrets centered on this simple fact.”

“When you proposed to her, she was penniless.”

“That she was,” agreed Darcy. “In some ways, it made it easier, for I knew at once that my regret was for the loss of her person rather than any more worldly considerations. It made it more difficult in that it held me back for longer than it should have and played a large part in preventing me from presenting myself to her as a suitor ought.”

“The question then, is whether you mean to speak of this to Elizabeth.”

Darcy considered this, for it was not something he had overlooked. There were advantages and disadvantages attendant upon either option, whether to speak to her or remain silent. Miss Bennet was intelligent enough to understand Mason’s determination and possessed enough fortitude to send him on his way when he decided he had carried his phantom courtship long enough and got down to the business of offering his proposal. On the other hand, a warning might not go amiss, for though she suspected his intentions, the difference between suspicion and knowledge was not insubstantial. Then again, to speak of another in such a way risked her suspecting him of trying to disparage a rival, as silly as such a notion was to anyone who had ever seen Mason together with Miss Bennet.

“I am uncertain,” said Darcy. He explained his thoughts on the matter to Georgiana, then added: “As I do not doubt her resilience, I wonder if it is better not to speak of it, as I do not wish to give her the wrong impression.”

Georgiana deliberated on this for a moment, then she nodded to herself. “Leave it to me, William. I can put it to her in such a way that she will not suspect me of trying to improve your suit by criticizing Mr. Mason. Even if she suspects me of it, she will not concern herself, for of course I would wish to support my beloved brother!”

“Leaving me out of the equation altogether.”

“Exactly!”

It was, Darcy reflected, wonderful to have a beloved sister’s support. Had Georgiana been present when he had visited Bingley before, he might not have made such a hash of things, and he knew that Miss Bennet would have pulled his sister from her melancholy in a trice. No one could remain in the depths of despair in the face of her vibrancy.

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M R. DARCY WAS NOT INCORRECT ; Miss Elizabeth Bennet had much experience with unwanted suitors, most of it when she was younger, but again in recent months. The intelligence Georgiana brought of what Mr. Mason had said to Mr. Darcy was both unsurprising and infuriating. It recalled to her mind Mr. Darcy’s confidence when he had proposed to her at Hunsford, resigned her to the necessity of facing it all over again. Elizabeth was not pleased in the slightest.

“Thank you for telling me,” said Elizabeth to her friend. “I will own that I had some notion of Mr. Mason’s intentions, but a little confirmation is always welcome.”

They were sitting together in a group of ladies that had gathered that day. Mary, Charlotte, and Penelope were all present, all looking at Elizabeth’s friendship with Georgiana showing various degrees of satisfaction, hope, or pleasure. Since Charlotte and Penelope had teased her at Penelope’s home, none of them had said anything on the subject, a matter of much relief to Elizabeth, who did not wish to forever fend off such questions from those she loved best.

It was strange, she supposed, for there appeared to be a surfeit of clerical wives in the area, for Longbourn parish was just to the north of Meryton, encompassing Longbourn, Netherfield, and a few other estates in the vicinity, while Meryton parish covered Meryton and those estates to the south. Meryton was a little larger and more valuable than Longbourn, for all that Elizabeth thought Longbourn’s living was a desirable position. Together with Mrs. Long, the widow of Meryton’s previous parson, there were four such ladies in attendance, a healthy number by any measurement.

“I suppose there is little you can do but wait for him to make his sentiments known.”

Elizabeth grimaced but she did not disagree. “Unfortunate, indeed, for I have no interest in Mr. Mason.”

Then Elizabeth turned an arch look on her friend. “That is what you wished to learn, is it not? Your brother must be waiting for your report with anticipation, though given our history, not a little dread.”

Georgiana’s laugh told Elizabeth they were intimate enough for such jests. “William will appreciate it when I inform him of our conversation. It is not correct to say that he pushed me to speak with you. To own the truth, he was more inclined to allow you to deal with Mr. Mason and say nothing.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, irony lacing her voice, “Mr. Darcy must possess intimate knowledge of my reaction to unwanted proposals.”

“Aye, that he does.”

Thereafter Georgiana became pensive. “If you do not mind my asking, did you dislike my brother as much as William suggests?”

It was not a question Elizabeth could refuse to answer, though she did so only with reluctance. “At the time, I cannot honestly say I liked him, Georgiana. Mr. Darcy’s behavior when he came to Meryton was not good, and his manners quite offended me. Yet I also confess that much of what I thought of him was Mr. Wickham’s doing, for he told me pretty tales and I believed them as if I had no more sense than a child of five.”

“For that, you should not chastise yourself.” Georgiana gave her a warm smile seasoned with a hint of wisdom gained by experience. “As one who knows the allure of Mr. Wickham’s silver tongue, I can state with confidence that it is difficult to separate the man’s charming manners from the truth.”

“Thank you for that, Georgiana, but I have always understood my culpability. Yes, Mr. Wickham presented himself as charming and harmless, but he also spoke of matters one does not discuss with a new acquaintance unless mischief is the intent. You must also remember that I was twenty, whereas you were only sixteen when he attempted to seduce you. It is naught but four years, but at that age, four years is a profound difference.”

“Perhaps it is. I still maintain you are not so much to blame as you assert. In this, I think a poor memory would serve, for it is not useful to berate yourself for your shortcomings.”

Elizabeth laughed and pressed Georgiana’s hands with affection. “No, it is not. Fortunately, I strive to think of the past only as it gives me pleasure, for I might hate myself if I did not.”

The problem of Mr. Mason continued to grow, the man’s ubiquitous presence disturbing Elizabeth’s peace of mind, preventing her from enjoying her friends’ company as much as she wished. As Mr. Mason’s ardor increased—if one could use so ostentatious a term to describe his tepid lovemaking—Elizabeth gained the sense he was building to climax, the obvious assumption being that he meant to propose soon. It was a new experience for Elizabeth, for with Mr. Darcy, his closed demeanor and general reticence had given her no sense of his interest; with Mr. Collins, his interest was plain, but Elizabeth had not expected any man, not even William Collins, to propose after naught but a week’s acquaintance. After some time of considering the matter, Elizabeth decided there was nothing to be done but to allow him to come to the point. The sooner he did so, the sooner she could disabuse him of any notion he possessed of her acceptance.

At church that week, Mr. Mason was even more insistent, even sitting beside her in the pew reserved for the patroness’s family. Nothing of Elizabeth’s protests, for she voiced her opposition, had any effect on him.

“Nonsense, Miss Bennet,” said the man when she suggested he might find another place to sit. “As I will soon possess the responsibility of the living, there is no reason why I should not sit with you. It will speak of our future agreement in a way that even those of Meryton cannot misinterpret.”

“My father often spoke of the silliness of my youngest sisters,” commented Mary, who was looking at the man with distaste. “Silliness, it appears, does not confine itself to adolescent ladies.”

If he understood anything of her insult, Mr. Mason gave no sign of it. “Come, Mrs. Hardwick, you may sit on the end of the pew toward the aisle, Miss Bennet can sit beside you, and I shall sit next to Miss Bennet.”

Short of making a scene and informing the odious gentleman what she thought of him, Elizabeth had no means of extricating herself. Mary seemed to sense this too, for she pursed her lips and caught Elizabeth’s eye, a knowing look passing between them, before taking her seat. Had this been all, Elizabeth could have contented herself with the situation. At that moment, however, she saw Mr. Mason glance behind and to the left, the smugness in his gaze unmistakable. A glance of her own revealed that he had directed it at Mr. and Miss Darcy. The gentleman appeared unamused, and his sister concerned, but Elizabeth looked heavenward and shook her head, and this appeared to mollify them for the moment.

Throughout the service, Elizabeth remained uneasy because of the propinquity of the gentleman next to her. It was not because he seated himself too close to be proper, nor did she fear him, for he had ever given her a sense of silliness rather than dread. It was not even because those in attendance might misinterpret the reason for his presence next to her and suspect there was anything between them, for his attentions and her disinterest were well known in the neighborhood. Her disquiet, Elizabeth supposed, was more because of the uncertainty of how long the man would continue to importune her when she wished to be free of him altogether.

With such thoughts running through her mind, it could be no surprise Elizabeth heard little of Mr. Hardwick’s sermon, though she had always been diligent in listening to the word of God. Had she escaped thereafter, she would have been well pleased. Caught in between Mary—a parishioner approached her the moment the service ended—and Mr. Mason, however, escape was not possible. The Darcys approached and diverted some of Mr. Mason’s attention, but that did not stop him from ensuring Elizabeth could not escape. By the time she departed from the church, she was fuming.

“What do you mean to do?” asked Mary that afternoon when they gathered at Longbourn for dinner. Mr. Hardwick looked on, his disquiet unmistakable.

“After his performance today, I wonder if I should take him to task myself, though it is not done. I shall not endure this much longer before I will be fit for bedlam.”

“My offer is still in effect,” said Mr. Hardwick. “Mason may not respect me, but if you wish, I shall speak to him and relay your sentiments.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” urged Mary. “Please allow Michael to act on your behalf, Lizzy, if only for your peace of mind. There is no telling how long he might take to come to the point.”

“In that, at least, I suspect you are incorrect. I have had the distinct impression of late that he is building toward his triumph and means to propose before long. I am not opposed to it, for it will allow me to disabuse him of any expectation of my acceptance once and for all.”

The fondness with which Mary regarded her was unmistakable. “Lizzy, you have always been the most resilient and the most independent of us all. You need not do everything yourself, my dear sister, for there are those in your life who love you and will take your part.”

“Well do I know it, Mary,” said Elizabeth, drawing her sister into an embrace. “Though I may take Michael’s offer when the need presents itself, I sense this matter will come to a resolution before long, perhaps even this week. Should Mr. Mason persist and not do as I suspect, I shall accept. At the moment, however, I believe it would be more efficacious if I allowed him to come to the point and refused him.”

“In that,” said Mr. Hardwick, “you may be correct, for I suspect Mason will not take the word of a mere parson.”

“He may even warn you to fear for your position when he controls the living!” jested Elizabeth.

Michael offered only a slight smile and eschewed the obvious response. “If required, I am happy to act on your behalf, Elizabeth; even if Mason does not believe me, it may cause him to doubt and provoke him to move more quickly.”

“Which will bring the matter to resolution,” agreed Elizabeth. “Then let us wait and see what he will do. If he does not propose and instead imposes upon me again, I will let slip the dogs of war and allow you to flay him with your contempt, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

The Hardwicks laughed at Elizabeth’s sportive comment as she had intended, and they allowed the matter of Mr. Mason to rest for the moment. As always, Elizabeth appreciated their Sunday meal together, and when the evening ended and the family returned to the parsonage, she reflected on the pleasure of having such close relations near to hand. Living in a house as chaotic as she had as a girl with factions separate and eager to maintain their own space, such amity and affection had rarely persisted. That she had it now was a wondrous blessing in her life.

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T HE SITUATION WITH Mr. Mason came to a head far more quickly than Elizabeth expected, notwithstanding her assertions to her sister. Monday, Elizabeth supposed, was as good a day for an unwanted proposal as any other day. As she had already had a Wednesday proposal from Mr. Collins and a Thursday proposal from Mr. Darcy, any other day was sufficient, and the sooner the better, in Elizabeth’s opinion. After the event, she wondered with a certain droll philosophy if she could induce four more on the other days of the week so she could claim the entire set; this ability to see the humor in the situation, of course, proceeded only after she recovered from her anger.

Elizabeth woke early in the bed she had slept in since she was a girl as was her custom and went about her day in the usual manner. While Mary had suggested before that Elizabeth might move into the master or mistress’s chambers, Elizabeth still slept in her old room, for she spent little time in it other than when in repose and moving into another bedchamber was a bother. Besides, she was comfortable in her bedchamber, seeing it akin to an old and well-loved friend and relying on the comfort of familiar surroundings.

That morning was much the same as any other at Longbourn. After breakfast, Elizabeth went to her study and did a bit of work on the estate books, and when Mr. Whitmore came, they discussed a few issues of the estate before he went away. Thereafter, Elizabeth considered the tenants and resolved on several visits later in the week, before leaving the study, having completed the business of the day. As noon had not yet arrived, though typical visiting hours had begun, Elizabeth thought to sit in the parlor for a time with a good book. It was only moments later when the door opened and Mrs. Hill stepped into the room, followed by the now detestable Mr. Mason.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Bennet, but Mr. Mason insisted I admit him this morning.”

“Of course, I did.” The man’s tone displayed his disdain as if he had suffered some mortal insult. “A mere servant shall not keep me from my future companion.”

Sensing as she did the inevitable path this man’s presence must take, Elizabeth offered her housekeeper a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Hill. Please stay nearby, for I may need you.”

Mrs. Hill smiled and curtseyed, understanding Elizabeth’s instructions. Sarah entered at once, nodding to Elizabeth and taking a seat near the door, near enough for propriety and far enough that she would not intrude. Mr. Mason took no notice of her as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture—Elizabeth suspected that to him she was of little more importance than a chair or sofa. Mrs. Hill glared her asperity at him where he was not looking and let herself from the room. Soon thereafter, a shadow appeared at the door, though unobtrusive and just outside, watchful and waiting. It was John, Longbourn’s footman, summoned by Mrs. Hill to remain there against the possibility of Elizabeth requiring a defense against Mr. Mason, as ridiculous as the notion sounded. Unless Elizabeth missed her guess, Mr. Whitmore was still lurking nearby to be of use to her should the situation demand it.

“Yes, Mr. Mason?” asked Elizabeth as she contemplated the situation. “How may I help you?”

The man offered an unctuous smile, not dissimilar to that of another in a similar circumstance. Had he any notion of the event he brought to her mind, it might have wiped the smugness from his face. Then again, Elizabeth did not suppose he possessed the clarity to understand that he might not gain her acceptance—such a thought had likely never occurred to him.

“There is no need to be coy, Miss Bennet, for you cannot misunderstand the reason for my presence this morning. Indeed, I cannot but suppose you expected it, or that you waited for me with bated breath.”

“Yes, I suspected you had some purpose in mind,” was all Elizabeth allowed.

“Of course, you did.”

The man’s pomposity exceeded Mr. Collins at his most ridiculous, the comparison not doing him any favors. Mr. Mason, as expected, remained oblivious to Elizabeth’s mix of annoyance and diversion.

“Then I suppose there is no reason to delay. You already expect me to offer myself, have waited for it, and I am not of a mind to disoblige you.”

“Perhaps you should come to the point, Mr. Mason.”

The gentleman bowed. “I shall do so at once. As you already understand, I have come this morning to offer an honorable marriage to you. As you know, I am the proprietor of the estate to Longbourn’s east, and as you are a young woman, eligible, possessing a property of your own that abuts to mine, it seems the most natural thing in the world to unite our estates to make something greater than they are separate. When we meet at the altar, the union into which we shall enter will propel us to consequence that will allow us to enter the circles in society to which I was born.

“As you know, I am the scion of a baron, an old, respectable, and prominent lineage, one no woman of your level of society could ever expect to join. Though you have lived your life in the country, I have every confidence that when taken in hand by my excellent relations, you will take to the life of high society with tolerable ease, though regrettably you must curb your habit of sportive conversation and speaking out of turn. As I do not consider this beyond your capabilities, the drawbacks of your upbringing are inconsequential, for your intelligence and knowledge of what must be done is not lacking.

“Therefore, without further ado, I put my proposal to you.” Mr. Mason stepped forward and offered a bow, as shallow as she expected given he little respected her despite his pretty words. “I offer my hand, my heart, and all my possessions to you, Miss Bennet, and request you accept my proposal in the spirit I offered it. What say you? Shall you honor me by accepting my hand so that we two may join as one?”

Though he phrased it as a question, Elizabeth knew it was a mirage, for the man was brimming with confidence. He reminded Elizabeth of another gentleman many years before, though if anything the proposal was even more objectionable. Mr. Darcy, at least, spoke of love, little though Elizabeth had credited the state of the gentleman’s heart in the heat of the moment. As for Mr. Mason, he referenced offering his heart as a distinct afterthought, for it was clear matters of affection had little interest to him. In his ridiculous behavior, he had perhaps even surpassed Mr. Collins. If he was not so objectionable, Elizabeth’s answer would have been different.

“I apologize for the tardiness in my response,” said Elizabeth after she had considered her previous experience in such things. “It appears my destiny is to be the recipient of proposals for which I have no desire.”

Mr. Mason’s reaction called Mr. Darcy to mind, for he started in utter shock, his eyes bulging as he stared at her. For a moment, Elizabeth wondered if he had swallowed his tongue, for he appeared incapable of making any response.

“‘Have no desire?’” echoed he. “Do you suggest that you did not expect me to propose?”

“That is not what I said, Mr. Mason,” said Elizabeth, amusement building in her breast. “If you recall, I spoke of this when you arrived. The word ‘desire’ does not equate to expectation—the word means want, wish, crave, or longing. While I expected your proposal, I did not long for it.”

Shock turned to doubt, and then to inevitable resentment. “I have no notion of your meaning. Did you not accept my attention with pleasure?”

“With resignation,” returned Elizabeth. “If you recall, you did not give me a choice, for you imposed yourself upon me with an outpouring of words such that I could rarely respond.”

“I saw nothing of this!”

“That is because you did not look, nor did the need to try a woman to see if she welcomed your advances even cross your mind. It is not so surprising, I suppose, for I am convinced you care little for my welcome or lack thereof.”

“This is nonsensical, Miss Bennet. A woman in your situation does not reject a man in mine. I shall have you as a wife, for a refusal will ruin you. All the neighborhood and beyond will see you as a fallen woman!”

“Is that so?” demanded Elizabeth, by now disgusted with this man. “How do you suppose that will come about? Many women reject offers of marriage, and none suffer a stain on their reputations. No one in this neighborhood believes that I favor you, for they all see my disinclination for your company, even if you never had the wit to see it for yourself.”

“This impertinence of yours is beyond endurance!” growled Mr. Mason. “My aunts shall attend to it at once, for it will not do for society to think my wife cannot behave.”

“For the last time,” snapped Elizabeth, “I shall not marry you. I have no inclination toward you and certainly do not love you, which I require in any man I will accept. You, Mr. Mason, are the sort of man I could never marry. No man, least of all one I so little respect, shall browbeat me into accepting an objectionable proposal to a life that will make me miserable. Take your insincerity, your condescension, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for my feelings and leave at once!”

“Miss Bennet—”

Before he could say anything more, an interruption arrived when Mr. and Miss Darcy followed Mrs. Hill into the room, their timing impeccable. Georgiana, Elizabeth noted, regarded Mr. Mason with no little wonder. Mr. Darcy, by contrast, sported a scowl that showed how unamused he was.