Page 23 of Obligation and Redemption

“Mr. Collins must return to Hunsford tomorrow, and he rightly requests an answer. He would like a private interview with you this morning.”

“Please, I need time.”

“I will ask him to wait until this evening after supper then, to see if Mr. Darcy will do his duty.” He assisted her from her seat and hugged her. “I truly regret this course of action.”

She stood motionless, angry with her father, yet sympathetic to his plight, that she would be the one to cause him such grief.

“I’m going out,” she said and then quickly left the study, anxious to remove herself from the house before encountering anyone.

In her haste, she left her pelisse, bonnet and gloves at home, not caring for her comfort on this chilly, wet morning and desirous to escape.

Elizabeth had always found great delight in studying people’s characters.

She shared this penchant with her father, much to her mother’s vexation.

Mr. Bennet, relishing in the absurdity of others, found contentment in meditating on the foolishness of those nearest to him.

Introducing someone new to the household, in the form of Mr. Collins, had been anticipated and provided no small amount of merriment to Mr. Bennet and his favourite daughter; nevertheless, he and Elizabeth both had learnt that small doses of their relation were sufficient to satisfy any proclivity towards this type of amusement.

Mr. Collins was equal parts haughty and servile, and where one word would suffice, he used ten.

So the thought of being irrevocably joined to such a ridiculous man was causing profound turmoil for Elizabeth and despair for her father.

Elizabeth left from the servants’ entrance, eluding anyone’s notice, and headed towards the gardens in the back of the house.

She started at a quick walk that soon turned into a run when she reached the trees.

Had Elizabeth not been so familiar with this path, she surely would have lost her way, as the tears in her eyes obscured her view, but on she ran.

Suddenly, as a winded Elizabeth rounded the bend at the top of a slow incline, she came upon a man on horseback.

In her precipitance and tear-filled eyes, she did not see him until she was nearly underfoot.

Impulsively, she screamed, and the horse reared; notwithstanding, on this occasion the gentleman on horseback did not fall.

He had been riding at a slow pace, reluctant to fulfil his obligation, and so was able to more easily gain control of his mount, despite the soreness in his ankle.

Elizabeth fell back to the ground, which inspired Mr. Darcy to dismount and reach down to assist her to her feet.

He held a cold stare as he reached his hand down to hers, bare to the elements, and easily lifted her to a stand.

He noticed that she had been crying as she attempted to catch her breath from her exertion and dismay.

What kind of woman runs across the countryside? Did she not learn anything from our last encounter? Am I to be bound to this chit who has no understanding of the appropriate behaviour and dress of a gentlewoman?

Elizabeth attempted a curtsey, but performed ill, while Mr. Darcy provided a cursory bow.

Looking aside she said, “Mr. Darcy, forgive me. In my haste I was not heeding my direction and did not notice your presence until you were upon me.” She knew that her lack of bonnet and gloves left her open to his derision.

“Miss Bennet, you are headed out alone? Do you not have a maid or footman to join you?”

Elizabeth heard only contempt from this man who held her future in his hands.

“I often walk out alone. I am on my father’s property and would have no reason to suppose anyone wholly unconnected to us would be riding across his land.

Anyway, we have had no visitors this past week, so why should I expect to run across you this morning?

Surely any business you might have had at Longbourn is now long overdue.

” How dare he judge my suitability when he himself has been shirking his own obligations?

“I know my duties and how to fulfil them, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I believe that we had an agreement which I held to be binding, but which you apparently did not.” He continued to stare at her face, red with anger, seeing her tears, but not moved to sympathy.

“Congratulations, you were able to succeed where others were not.”

“I have only succeeded in saving a man who shows only disdain towards me, that has resulted in a scandal that has tainted my family and provided me a future filled with misery, no matter the course.”

“Miss Bennet, do not pretend ignorance of my worth and suitability. There is nary a woman in England, single or married, who would not wish to be in your place. Few can boast of my advantages.”

Elizabeth found herself laughing, through her tears, at his arrogance.

All of the emotions of the past week were surging up within her, the fear, the absurdity, the anger; and this man had the audacity to speculate that she should be gratified by her position, that she should, by some rational means, rejoice in her suffering!

“Do you mean to pay respects to my father, then? Are you to offer for me?”

“I do,” he answered in a clipped tone and with visible scorn, as he tried to maintain self-control.

His life had taken a decided turn in a direction at complete opposition to the one he had anticipated.

Darcy’s plans were made; he was to return to town and offer for Lady Annette.

As a couple, they would live with mutual regard and distinction, and his wife would assist his sister, Georgiana, through the trying years of coming out into society with grace and poise.

Now, through no fault of his own, he was bound to this woman with questionable respectability, who runs across the grounds of her father’s estate without proper attire and her dress six inches deep in mud.

“Do I accept a man who humiliates himself with his obsequious banter, or do I accept a man who humiliates me with his conceited disdain?” Elizabeth asked herself through her despair.

The answer to this was clearer than she gave credit at the time with the haughty Mr. Darcy before her, looking down upon her.

Between the two men asking for her hand, she would rather take arrogance over stupidity; at least there would be something to admire in a man who was well educated, and he was more handsome to look upon, which had its own merits.

Yet at this moment, she could not see clearly what would later be obvious.

She could bear his presence no longer, and abruptly left to make her way down the path upon which she had been travelling when she had been interrupted.

She could only think of fleeing, finding peace in obscurity.

Darcy watched her run down the lane, not understanding her outburst. Many years had passed since he had seen a young maiden demonstrate such activity, and he was appalled, but he knew his duty to his honour.

He had no desire to offer for Miss Elizabeth; she had little beauty and no accomplishments.

Hoping that by some miracle, the situation would change, he had remained at Netherfield, listening to the reports from his valet and Bingley concerning the gossip of the neighbourhood.

Like Elizabeth, he had been hoping for some miracle to relieve him of his obligations as a gentleman.

Darcy knew he could just walk away, but his honour forbade it.

When news had reached London, as confirmed by an express from his home in town, he accepted that he had no choice but to offer for her and only awaited the time when he would be able to ride to Longbourn, without the aid of his cane, in order to ask for Miss Elizabeth’s hand.

In his pride, he refused to arrive looking less than his usual healthy self.

He had considered paying the family a settlement to release him of his responsibilities while compensating them for their loss in respectability; however he knew this would worsen the situation for the family, seeming like she was his mistress whose services he had bought.

The family may receive an easy pay-off, but the long-term damage to the Bennets would be beyond calculation.

He also thought to pay a man of lower station to marry her, but could he really release his duties to another?

This went against his character and his pride in every way.

As he arrived at Longbourn, he dismounted and handed his horse to the startled stable boy, who like the rest of the family’s servants had been privy to the gossip bandied about Meryton.

Darcy instructed him, “Do not bother to take him to the stables. I shall not be long.” The young man could not hide his curiosity as he watched the imposing gentleman walk up to the main entry of the home.

After Darcy was greeted at the door by an older man, seemingly the butler, but perhaps a footman, he waited to be directed into the presence of Mr. Bennet.

The man returned and asked Darcy to follow him to the room that must have been Mr. Bennet’s private study.

Books – those not included in the assortment that lined the shelves against two of the walls – were strewn about the room on the table by the fire, on his desk, and some were even stacked upon the floor.

Mr. Bennet was seated at a medium sized desk and stood upon Darcy’s entrance.

They each performed a cursory bow, and then Mr. Bennet directed Darcy to a seat across from him.

Mr. Bennet held his astonishment as he offered his guest a beverage from the sideboard on which sat an array of bottles usually untouched until the evening hours.

“I thank you. Perhaps some brandy?”