Page 15 of The Power of Refusal

T he summons to Longbourn for Mary’s wedding was not long in coming. To Elizabeth’s eye, the familiar streets of Meryton were altered. She sat by Jane, their hands clasped together, as they watched the scenery of their childhoods emerge outside the carriage.

“Mr Gately’s shop is gone, Jane. We shall have to patronise the new haberdashery should we require stockings,” Elizabeth observed.

“Indeed, Mamma wrote Mr Gately had gone to the city when he came into some money. She is not pleased with the new shop owner. Mr Southwick is the proprietor, and he is, Mamma says, ‘miserly in matters of account,’” Jane said.

Charles smirked. “Wise man,” he said, sotto voce .

Jane grimaced. A slight blush rose on her glowing cheeks. Few disputes had marred the peace of Lockwood. One had occurred when Charles determined Jane had been supplementing her mother’s pin money out of her own.

“I will give your mother a gift of some funds, but that is the end of it, Janie. You are not to scrimp on your necessaries so your mother can indulge herself with another yard of French lace. No more,” Jane had told her Charles said. Elizabeth could not but agree with Charles.

Jane’s generosity knew no bounds. It never had. Even when they were all on the strictly limited allowance their father had provided, her liberal “loans” to Kitty and especially Lydia had frequently impoverished Jane. How had they managed in Jane’s absence?

Returning to the scenes of home jolted Elizabeth. Had Longbourn always been so shabby? Had the windows always been so small and dull? Her time away had changed her perspective on matters and not only those of architecture.

Mr and Mrs Bennet emerged as the Longbourn staff attended the carriage. Who was this groomsman? Elizabeth wondered as an unfamiliar young man took the horses’ leads. At least Mr Hill was still present. He was shrunken and bent, but his smile of greeting warmed her.

Elizabeth approached her parents behind Jane and Charles. Her mother’s effusive greetings, especially to Charles, grated on Elizabeth’s nerves. Was it cynicism, or did her mother’s words appear to be intended to flatter, to seek further largesse?

Mrs Bennet dutifully embraced Elizabeth, but her eyes cast up and down her dowdy gown and pelisse and she made a clicking sound of disapproval.

“You are looking in health, Lizzy,” she said with a frown. Did Mrs Bennet wish otherwise? How unwelcoming her mother’s disapproval was.

Mr Bennet’s embrace comforted. Yet he, too, appeared less robust, and his arms held her with less strength. She had been away from Papa for far too long.

Mrs Bennet, with utter disregard for her family’s discomfort, immediately began interrogating poor Jane. “You are married far too long to still be without a babe, Jane. I have written to you with all the information you might require. Are you increasing now or not?”

Jane purpled with humiliation and a bit of anger, but she would not fail to answer a direct question. She opened her mouth, saying “Mamma, I—” when Charles spoke over her.

“Mrs Bennet, please refrain from hectoring Jane about the matter. If we have news to share, we will share it at our pleasure. Jane has done nothing to warrant censure.”

Mr Bennet looked up at this, his brows raised and a hint of colour to his cheeks.

Mrs Bennet blinked rapidly, her shock delaying her answer. After a moment, she began, “I am sure you are longing for an heir, Charles. Certainly—” but Charles broke in again.

“I implore you, madam, to allow us the privacy of a married couple. What I wish for is my wife’s happiness. I will tolerate no one making her uncomfortable, as she so obviously is with this line of conversation. Please, let us speak of something else.”

Mrs Bennet flushed, at last realising she was perturbing her golden goose. It appeared to challenge her senses to comprehend how she might respond to such firm opposition.

“Please, Mary, tell us about Mr Couper’s parsonage. You have seen it, I hope?” Elizabeth said and shifted the topic to one more to the liking of most of the group.

“Mr Couper’s church is St Lawrence in Alton, which I believe you have seen. He has recently received a gift of money, and we decided together to modernise the kitchen and recover the soft furniture. It was such a stroke of luck the anonymous benefactor saw fit to provide a nice sum.” Mary was delighted to praise her betrothed, her new home, and their plans to improve it.

Jane was no longer the focus of attention, but her face still showed strain. Charles shifted in his seat, his hand holding his wife’s, and he whispered to her.

A surge of envy surprised Elizabeth. Charles had matured into a man of strength. To have a protector, someone who would step in when their mother became peevish, would be something. She dreaded the unavoidable moment when her mother’s attention would fix on Elizabeth’s lack of suitors. Who would come to her aid? She braced herself for the inevitable onslaught.

∞∞∞

It was not for want of effort by his family that Darcy remained a single man. His mind wandered to the recent house party at his aunt Eleanor’s home. The memory made him grimace. He recalled the scene months before in London vividly.

“Fitzwilliam, darling,” Aunt Eleanor cooed, “may I present Miss Amelia Hartington? She’s just returned from a very select seminary.” The hopeful look in her eyes brought bile to his throat. Not another simpering debutante.

Darcy turned to see a young woman with perfectly coiffed blonde curls and a vapid smile.She curtsied deeply, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Mr Darcy,” she simpered, “I’ve heard so much about your magnificent library at Pemberley. I do so love to read.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? And what was the last book you enjoyed, Miss Hartington?”

The girl’s smile faltered. “Oh, well... I’m particularly fond of... La Belle Assemblee? ” Beside him, Richard stifled a laugh. Darcy shot his cousin a withering look.

Later, as they shared a brandy in the study, Richard did not contain his amusement. “Come now, Darcy. You must admit, my mother is trying her best. What fault did you find with Miss Hartington? Or Lady Beatrice last month? Or the Honourable Miss Cecilia Rately before that?”

Darcy swirled the amber liquid in his glass, frowning. “They’re all perfectly... suitable, I suppose. But there’s no spark, no challenge. They agree with everything I say, laugh at jokes I have not even made. It’s tedious, Richard.”

Richard’s expression softened. “You’re still thinking of her, are you? The country miss from Hertfordshire?”

Darcy’s silence was answer enough.

“Darcy,” Richard said gently, “I understand the appeal of a woman with spirit. But you have a duty to your family, to Pemberley. You can’t keep rejecting every eligible young lady because she is not your first love. You set an impossible standard.”

Darcy’s jaw clenched. “It’s not impossible. Elizabeth—Miss Bennet—she’s real, flesh and blood. She challenged me, made me want to be better. How can I settle for less now that I know such a connection is possible? But she would have me forget her.”

Richard sighed, refilling both their glasses. “And if she never returns your affections? Will you you pine away like some lovesick Romeo, eaving Pemberley without an heir?” The question hung heavy in the air. Darcy had no answer.

“Have you tried to find out where she is, what became of her?”

Darcy turned back to the window, his voice low. “I... made inquiries. Discreetly. She married a clergyman from Alton some time ago.”

Richard’s sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room. “Oh, Darcy. I am sorry.”

“As am I,” Darcy murmured. “I waited too long, let my pride stand in the way. And now...”

“And now you must move forward,” Richard said firmly. “You have responsibilities, to Pemberley and to your family name. You can’t spend the rest of your life pining for a woman who is married to another.”

Darcy’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. “You speak of duty, of responsibility. But what of happiness, Richard? What of marrying for love?”

“Love can grow from mutual respect and companionship,” Richard argued. “You could have that with someone like Lady Amelia, Darcy. Do not condemn yourself to a life of solitude.”

Darcy closed his eyes, conflict etched on his face. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I do not believe I can settle for less. If I were to wed, it would be for companionship, not love.”

Richard stood. “I would urge you to think about it. For Georgiana’s sake, if nothing else.She is worried about leaving you alone.”

As Richard left, Darcy remained by the window, his reflection ghostly in the glass. The thought of a loveless marriage, of a life without Elizabeth, stretched before him like a barren landscape. Yet the alternative—a life of solitude in an empty Pemberley—seemed equally bleak.

He had decisions to make, and for once in his life, Fitzwilliam Darcy was utterly at a loss.

∞∞∞

“Mr Bennet, will you not place an announcement of the wedding? It must appear in the Times and the Courier . It ought to say ‘Lately, Robert Couper of Alton, Hertfordshire, to Miss Mary Bennet,’ and the name of her father, and the place where she lives. Perhaps my brother Gardiner might draw it up. It is but a trifling expense,” Mrs Bennet said for perhaps the twelfth time.

“Does Mary wish it, Mamma?” Elizabeth asked with feigned innocence.

“Oh, hang Mary, what does she know of how these things are done? I wish it, and I am sure Mr Couper expects it done,” Mrs Bennet said. Her expression was cross. The wedding had been far less of an affair than she wished. Mrs Bennet had decried Mary’s simple, practical gown as “shamefully plain.” The quiet ceremony and restrained breakfast also displeased her. Mary had dismissed talk of publishing an announcement as frivolous.

Elizabeth wondered that her mother, whose maternal feelings had ever been impassioned on the subject of marrying off her daughters, had so little good to say of having got rid of another daughter. Mary had never met her mother’s standards for beauty. Her quiet manner was scorned compared with the “lively” Lydia.

Elizabeth was more amazed Mary had married at all in view of the disgraceful, unchecked, and wild behaviour of her younger sisters. Kitty, as ever, followed Lydia’s lead no matter where it took her. Long established as the most determined flirt that ever made herself and her family ridiculous, Lydia avoided ruin only by the marked lack of members of the male species frequenting Meryton. Now over twenty, Lydia bemoaned the lack of dance partners or militiamen in the vicinity.

The Bingleys and Elizabeth departed Meryton scant days after Mary and Robert left on their wedding trip, alone. The couple invited no sister to accompany them, which was another item on Lydia’s list of grievances. Charles offered Elizabeth the use of a carriage if she wished to remain longer, but she decidedly did not. She returned to Gracechurch Street, grateful for the peace.

∞∞∞

The first season after Georgiana's come-out, Darcy watched his sister bloom as gradually as her daffodils. In April, she could barely whisper responses to introductions. By May, when the lilacs perfumed Berkeley Square, she managed brief conversations without clutching his arm. In June, amid the heady scent of hothouse roses at Almack's, he caught her first genuine smile at another young lady's jest. By July, when they had departed stifling London where dust coated carriages within minutes of washing, she could manage a quadrille without trembling. At Pemberley that Christmas, whilst snow drifted against the library windows, she played carols to the assembled guests with growing confidence, her fingers no longer stiff with anxiety on the keys.

The next spring brought a fresh assault of matchmaking mamas, as persistent as the new shoots breaking through the manor's kitchen gardens. “Mr Darcy simply must meet dear Adelaide,” “Our Prudence is perfect for Mr Darcy,” and “Mr Darcy does not grow any younger. He ought to marry Miss Thurleigh for her fortune, if he cares not for any lady’s charms,” they simpered at crowded routs, whilst their daughters stood by with carefully crafted expressions of disinterest. He developed a talent for finding urgent business elsewhere, discovering previously overlooked correspondence or estate matters that required immediate attention. The ladies of the ton soon learnt to watch for his swift exits at the first mention of eligible daughters. Georgiana, observing his retreats from behind her fan with amusement and chagrin, grew more assured in conducting herself in society without him, learning to deflect inquiries about her brother's matrimonial prospects with gentle vagueness.

In her second season, when the chestnuts bloomed white and pink, Georgiana began to show flashes of wit. She still spoke softly, but her observations were keen. During morning calls, she would wait until the callers departed, then share her thoughts with her brother over tea. “Poor Miss Rutherford,” she murmured one evening after a musical performance, whilst the last rays of sunset painted the drawing room gold. “She plays precisely as she was taught - every note perfect and perfectly mechanical.” Darcy thought of Elizabeth, whose fingers had sometimes stumbled but whose music had made his heart race and felt the familiar ache.

When they returned to Pemberley for the harvest, Georgiana took more interest in estate matters, as the leaves turned copper and gold in the ancient woods. She accompanied Darcy on tenant visits, her natural gentleness drawing out shy children and anxious mothers. Her dove-grey riding habit became a familiar sight on the estate paths, and she learnt to carry treats in her pockets for the tenant children, just as their mother had done. The tenants began to look forward to her visits as much as his, particularly when the harvest began, and she took to accompanying the wagons bringing sustenance to the workers in the fields. On clear September mornings, the mist rising from the lake, Darcy would watch his sister talking easily with the farmers' wives about their gardens and children and feel a bittersweet pride.