Page 6

CHAPTER 6

A nother proposal?

I recalled Mrs. Bennet’s claims from the evening before but, given her inebriated state and Mr. Collins’s general ineptness, I had given them little credence.

Mrs. Bennet continued addressing her complaints to Mr. Bennet, though it was plain they were intended for Miss Elizabeth?—

Elizabeth. I ought to accustom my mind to calling her such if we were to be forced into a union. On my honor as a gentleman, as a Darcy, I would never speak of the incident that had thrown us together in such a precarious situation, but her father was certain to take issue with her arrival in my arms, especially when only a few shreds of fabric and my coat protected her decency.

“If only your daughter had accepted Mr. Collins’s offer! We would be drinking punch and eating cake!” Mrs. Bennet lamented as though I were not standing directly in front of her.

“Mama, how can you believe him capable of making me happy or me of making him anything but miserable?”

Mrs. Bennet looked pointedly at Mr. Bennet. “When your daughter came downstairs in that dreadful old gown, I knew something was wrong! No lady would wish to receive a proposal in such a worn garment! And she did nothing with her hair!”

Mr. Bennet leaned toward me with a wry grin. “She is ‘my daughter’ when she does something Mrs. Bennet does not approve of. Most of the time, she is simply Lizzy.”

“Mr. Bennet, what are we to do?” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “If your daughter cared about me or her sisters, she would agree to marry Mr. Collins and secure Longbourn! We shall be cast out into the hedgerows!”

Considering how poorly Elizabeth and her tattered gown had fared against the hedgerow, I sincerely doubted that. Elizabeth coughed, and when my gaze met her smiling eyes, I knew her thoughts were similar to mine. My lips flinched before she looked away, and I gained control of my countenance.

Mrs. Bennet cried into her handkerchief. “I have failed as a mother! How can I entice more gentlemen to notice our girls if word gets out that they might refuse their attention?”

Mr. Bennet patted her on the shoulder. “There will be more gentlemen.”

I waited for a nod in my direction or some indication that I was such a gentleman, but none came. Still, right was right, and I would act honorably. By this point, I was not completely opposed to the idea, though I shivered at the terrifying prospect of introducing this family into society.

“You always take your daughter’s side! If you insist on supporting her foolishness, I swear I shall not speak to you either, Mr. Bennet!”

Another pat. “To whom would you complain then, my dear?”

“I do not know why I bother complaining to you, for all the good it does! You never do anything I ask!”

“And yet we manage well-enough. Better than most, I suspect.” He smiled, dismissing his wife’s discontent and his inaction.

In my experience?of which I had a plentiful portion, thanks in good part to my aunt Catherine—complaints usually stemmed from a lack of attention.

Granted, I did not agree with Mrs. Bennet in this matter. Mr. Collins would not make a good husband for Elizabeth. That she was unwilling to settle merely to secure a home of her own and a place for her mother and sisters told me she expected more from that eternal union. She was not afraid of a challenge; therefore, she required a man who would not be intimidated by her wit or afraid of testing her intellect. That man was decidedly not Mr. Collins.

The cook returned with a blanket. I was finally able to set Elizabeth down as the woman wrapped the quilt around her and promptly ushered everyone out of her kitchen.

Elizabeth hurried up the stairs, where she would undoubtedly change into another gown. I followed Mr. and Mrs. Bennet into the parlor to find the rest of the family entertaining themselves in various occupations. Miss Bennet set down her embroidery and curtsied with a warm smile. Miss Mary curtsied stiffly, the book she had been reading still gripped in her hands. The two youngest sisters scowled at me, though Miss Kitty’s expression was not as fierce as Miss Lydia’s.

I bowed.

“Lydia, mind your manners,” Miss Bennet softly urged.

“What is he doing here?” Miss Lydia replied, bobbing an obligatory curtsy.

“Lydia,” hissed Mrs. Bennet. “We know Mr. Darcy to be disagreeable, but we will not stoop to that kind of behavior.”

I had been tried, weighed, measured against Lydia Bennet’s lewd behavior… and found wanting.

The shame! I had thought apologizing to Elizabeth would sufficiently erase my error, but it was apparent my thoughtless comment had done more damage to my reputation than I had believed possible.

Mr. Bennet motioned for me to sit, and Mrs. Bennet sent for tea and the cake intended for their celebration of Elizabeth’s eagerly anticipated engagement. Admittedly, she was a gracious hostess despite her obvious lack of enthusiasm to have me as her guest.

“Very well, Mr. Darcy, what brings you to Longbourn?” Mr. Bennet pulled out his pipe and stretched his legs in front of him.

I shifted my weight, uneasy. Did he really want me to describe—in front of his daughters—the whole of what had happened? I ran my sweaty palms over my breeches.

“Mr. Darcy, your hands!” In a blink, Mrs. Bennet was at my side, all compassion. “You are bleeding, sir! Mary, bring me some cold water in a basin and a clean rag!”

I had not noticed the cuts and stinging flesh of swollen welts until she called attention to them.

Miss Bennet ran to see what they might have in the stillroom for my injuries while her mother fussed over me like a small child. Being well beyond the age of such motherly ministrations, I balked and tried to pull my hands away.

Mr. Bennet clucked his tongue. “It is useless, Mr. Darcy. There is nothing Mrs. Bennet loves more than to nurse a wounded being. A bird cannot fall out of its nest without her bringing it inside the house to mend.”

Mrs. Bennet cooed and talked under her breath, explaining what she was doing in a soothing singsong. The water she dabbed against the hot welts cooled my skin.

Not since my mother had anyone attended to me so gently. It felt… pleasant.

“It looks like you fought a tiger. What happened that hurt you so?” she asked softly.

“Miss Elizabeth was stuck in the hedgerow, and I pulled her out.”

“The hedgerow did that to you? We ought to cut it down, Papa!” Miss Kitty exclaimed forcefully.

Miss Lydia glared at her. “I wish it had been a tiger! I wish it had eaten him!”

“Lydia, do not speak like that to our guest. Mr. Darcy saved Lizzy from the hedgerows. You know how wicked the thorns on those Hawthorn bushes are.” Mrs. Bennet stood, satisfied she had cleaned and soothed my hands as well as she could. The tray came in, accompanied by Miss Bennet with a jar of salve. Her mother bent and carefully applied the medicinal cream to my fingers and palms while her eldest daughter prepared tea for everyone.

Plied with cake, tea, and hands greasy with ointment, I expected Mr. Bennet would now address the apparent compromise he and his wife had witnessed in the kitchen.

“I know that part of the hedgerow. I lost a bonnet to it only last year. You must be very strong to carry Lizzy like you did! How far away were you?” Miss Kitty asked excitedly, her gaze raking over my shoulders and arms.

Waiting was torture. I wondered when Elizabeth would return with my coat. I hoped someone was tending to her wounds as tenderly as Mrs. Bennet had seen to mine.

“He is a bully!” Miss Lydia puckered her bottom lip. “You should have seen how he attacked poor Mr. Wickham at the ball!”

Miss Bennet frowned. “Mr. Wickham? You saw him?”

Miss Lydia fidgeted. “Wickham, Denny, Chamberlayne… so many officers, I must have confused his name.”

Miss Mary lowered her book. “You distinctly said Mr. Wickham. He was not at the ball last night.”

All eyes turned to Miss Lydia. “He only refused Mr. Bingley’s invitation because he knew Mr. Darcy would cause a scene! He is a gentleman, and he had promised me a dance, so Mr. Denny showed me to the balcony where Mr. Wickham might keep his promise without offending those who have misused him so abominably.” She flipped a curl over her shoulder, exposing a roundish purple bruise on her throat.

Her parents noticed, but she was too indignant to realize her mistake until her father spoke. “Did he give you that mark on your neck?”

Eyes widening, Miss Lydia pulled her curl forward. “What? This? I must have been bitten by a mosquito while I was outside.”

“In November?” Mr. Bennet’s gaze turned to me. “Tell me what you saw, sir, so I might determine whether I ought to send for Mr. Wickham to demand an explanation… and perhaps an offer.”

This pleased Miss Lydia very much.

As it did Mrs. Bennet, who rubbed her hands together. “You must speak to him right away! Oh, what a proud mother I am to have a daughter engaged, and my youngest too!”

With the whole family present, I could not speak as plainly as I could have were it only Mr. Bennet listening, but they needed to be warned about Wickham. “I walked out on the balcony and heard Mr. Wickham suggest to a lady he had cornered on the balcony that they go to the gazebo, where they might have more privacy. I will leave it to you to imagine his intention. As someone who has known the man my whole life, I must add he has a reputation for making friends easily with his charm. Then he disappears, leaving behind debt, heartbreak, and ruin.”

Mr. Bennet sat upright. “He is a rake?” he asked.

At the same moment, Mrs. Bennet gasped, “He has no money?”

“He has been called that, Mr. Bennet… and I do not pretend to know the state of his financial affairs, only that I quit paying off his debts this last summer when he injured someone very dear to me,” I owned.

Longbourn’s master rubbed his hand over his face, ignoring Miss Lydia’s protests. “Did anyone else see what happened?”

“It was dark, and as Miss Mary mentioned, Wickham’s presence was not expected. Aside from me, Mr. Denny, and now the occupants of this room, I doubt anyone else knows.”

Face white, Mr. Bennet said in a low tone, “You prevented him from taking Lydia out to the gazebo.”

“He attacked George! He might have maimed him!” Miss Lydia pointed at me.

Elizabeth walked into the room then. Judging from her solemn expression, she had heard enough of her sister’s admission to shake her confidence in Wickham’s character. She handed my coat to me with a mumbled, “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

I could not don my coat without creating a spectacle, so I folded it on my lap and placed my hands on top. Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight of their greasy sheen. With an apologetic look, she slipped me her handkerchief.

Mr. Bennet addressed her. “Did you know of this last night, Lizzy?”

“I saw nothing.” She moved to sit near him, and I took advantage of her distraction to tuck her handkerchief inside the cuff of my shirt. I preferred my coat to be soiled rather than the delicate linen ruined by whatever it was on my hands.

“And yet you managed to send your sister home early.”

“She is determined to spoil my fun!”

Ignoring Miss Lydia, Elizabeth replied, “I chanced upon Mr. Darcy while he was searching Netherfield for you. He wished to speak to you and warn you about Mr. Wickham. Having heard he had decided not to attend, I was not convinced. But then I saw Lydia in the withdrawing room boasting Mr. Wickham preferred her to me and she had danced with him out on the balcony. So I grabbed a glass of ratafia on a table nearby and poured it down the front of her dress.”

“You have always been jealous of me! George likes me more than you!”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. Had she set her sights toward Wickham ? I did not want to believe it.

She spoke, her tone measured. “He told Mr. Bingley he would not attend the ball, and yet he sneaked onto the dark balcony to make inappropriate advances on you while breaking his promises to every other lady to whom he had also promised a dance. Mr. Wickham has told us many things, all of which cast him in a favorable light, but his behavior last night was not that of a gentleman.”

Miss Lydia’s face turned red. “He is one hundred times more of a gentleman than Mr. Darcy!”

“And yet it was Mr. Darcy who saved you from ruin and spared our family’s reputation with his quick action.”

Her blunt censure was logical. She spoke only facts, and yet my chest puffed with pride at her defense of me.

Mr. Bennet leaned forward, skin pale and voice grave. “I thank you for your service to my family, Mr. Darcy, but I must also inquire how you came to arrive in my kitchen with Lizzy looking as though she had been ravaged.”

“I came to apologize for my unkind comments at the Meryton Assembly.” My face burned, embarrassment spreading through my body as I uttered the words again to a much larger group than I had intended to hear. “I met Miss Elizabeth along the path. It was slippery and she was agitated.”

“She would never have been out of doors had she accepted Mr. Collins’s proposal as she should have!” complained Mrs. Bennet.

I swallowed my offense. “It was an innocent accident, but I am aware of what conclusions you must have drawn when we arrived here.”

Mr. Bennet waved off my comment. “Nonsense. In light of recent events, you are obviously an honorable gentleman. If you declare nothing untoward transpired between you and Lizzy, I see no need to discuss the matter any further.” He looked at Elizabeth, eyebrows raised. “Have you anything to add to this account?”

She shook her head.

Mrs. Bennet pulled out her handkerchief and waved her face with it. “Two wasted proposals in one day!” She turned to me. “Mr. Darcy, unless you wish to be tied to a rebellious, headstrong bride, you will stay away from Longbourn!” She leveled her gaze at each of her daughters, her eyes squinting in her intensity. “Girls, I do not want to hear a word of this from any of you. And unless you wish to force Mr. Darcy to become your brother and make yourselves the target of your friends’ pity—we know he is not so disagreeable as others say he is, but they do not—you will say nothing to anyone, not even your aunt Philips or the Lucas girls!” She stared them down until she secured a guarantee from all five of her daughters.

Having no further need to linger, I donned my coat with the help of Mr. Hill and collected my horse from the pear tree. Fortified with cake, tea, and a stolen handkerchief, I rode toward Meryton.