Page 48 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 91/63: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
Per his agreement with Elizabeth, Darcy did not accompany Bingley into Meryton to catch up with the Bennet sisters that morning. Instead, he called on Mr. Bennet alone.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said with a bow and then seated himself. He took a deep breath. “I wish to discuss the advent of a dangerous man in Meryton.”
“Pardon?”
“I have come to warn you about a gentleman who has recently enlisted in the militia. He is not to be trusted.”
Mr. Bennet folded his hands and leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye as though Darcy had just promised entertainment of the rarest sort. “Oh? What danger does he pose?”
“I am afraid he has a habit of leaving behind debts and ruined young women.”
“I see. Even gentlemen’s daughters?”
Darcy cleared his throat. “If he believes it to be in his best interest or if his appetites get the better of him, yes. A lady’s station means nothing to him. Your daughters are in danger.”
“And how do you know this gentleman?” Mr. Bennet asked, steepling his fingers.
“He is the son of my father’s late steward. I have been witness to his behaviour for many years.”
Mr. Bennet’s eyes danced. “Ah. A childhood rivalry. I see. And what, precisely, do you wish me to do?”
“I would have you protect your daughters. Wickham will not hesitate to pursue them.”
Mr. Bennet waved a hand in dismissal. “Clearly, Mr. Darcy, you have not spent much time with my daughters. They are too silly and too poor to be anyone’s prey.”
“But their dowry―”
“Is not considerable.”
Darcy fancied he saw a flash of discomfort cross the man’s face, and he hoped that perhaps Mr. Bennet cared more about the matter than Elizabeth believed. “Regardless, I do not believe Wickham will scruple to pursue them.” If nothing else, Wickham would certainly do so the moment he realised how dear Elizabeth was to Darcy. If only she had agreed to allow him to cast the mantle of his protection over her entire family.
“I doubt it.”
Darcy blinked at the man, unable to devise an appropriate response. He had told Mr. Bennet point-blank that Wickham posed a threat to his family and Mr. Bennet appeared to treat the whole matter as a joke. “Mr. Bennet, I currently employ four of the young ladies he has tossed aside. Wickham is not a laughing matter. Please do not make the same mistakes I have, sir.”
Mr. Bennet raised one eyebrow. “Your worries are groundless. As I said, if you knew my daughters, you would realise just how groundless they are.”
“Though I do not know them as well as you do, I myself am responsible for my fifteen-year-old sister as both our parents died some time ago. I am acquainted with how girls of that age think and behave.” Darcy hesitated, trying to decide how far to confide in Mr. Bennet. If he had his way, they would be family, and yet, without knowing when time would resume.... “Wickham is practised in the art of causing young ladies to ignore their own best interests, to throw away even the rules of their dearest family.”
“If that is true, then there seems little reason to address the matter: you tell me that Mr. Wickham will sway my daughters no matter what I say and I maintain that he would not bother with my daughters anyway.”
Darcy nearly snarled at the man. Everything Elizabeth had said and hinted at returned to him with the force of a blow. Mr. Bennet had not found anything worth leaving his library for, and that definitely included his family. Regardless of Fitzwilliam’s maxim that there was nothing like a good knocking to soften a hard head, violence would not accomplish anything here, he reminded himself.
“I see that Miss Elizabeth takes after you,” Darcy said with strained pleasantry.
“Oh?”
He smiled in fond remembrance of his beloved’s style of debate. “She likes to turn points on their heads until you know not whether you are arguing up or down.”
“That does sound like my Lizzy.”
“She did not think it worthwhile to warn you about Mr. Wickham, but I said that a father would rather be aware of potential dangers. In the past five years of parenting my sister, I have learned that I cannot protect her when I am ignorant of the waters. Trying to steer her safely into womanhood has been a trial indeed, and I cannot imagine that it is much easier for a father than for one who is both brother and father.” Darcy leaned forward, trying to soften his expression and to convey his deep sincerity. “I am not warning you out of any self-interest on my part. Truly, Mr. Wickham is a danger to those who are unwary, and yes, your daughters may choose to ignore your warnings, but would you not wish to make them anyway? I would have your daughters keep their guard up so that they may remain safe and happy.”
For a moment, Mr. Bennet seemed almost convinced, but then he brushed it off with a quip about the difficulty of steering unwieldy boats and asked Darcy how he liked the neighbourhood.
Days 92/64-96/68: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
No matter how Darcy worded his warning, Mr. Bennet merely brushed the matter off. Darcy tried over and over. Elizabeth tried. They tried together. Nothing reached the man.
Darcy had begun the endeavour with a deep desire to save Elizabeth’s family; however, Mr. Bennet’s laissez-faire attitude provoked him, and he grew angrier and angrier with each passing day.
As had become his custom, on his sixth attempt, Darcy began by politely warning Mr. Bennet of Wickham’s dangers. However, when Mr. Bennet still remained obdurately unconcerned, Darcy leaned forward, both hands splayed on the desk. “Mr. Bennet, Wickham is a clear and present danger. The entail is a clear and present danger. What kind of father, what kind of husband are you that you refuse to act?”
Mr. Bennet blinked at him and then tilted his head forward to examine him over the top of his spectacles. “Mr. Darcy, are you feeling well?”
By the barest thread, Darcy avoided physically assaulting the man and forced himself to take a deep breath. Mr. Bennet was trapped in a world of his own making. His wilful avoidance had left him truly blind. “I would be better if you were to protect your family. I have come to care for Miss Elizabeth most deeply, and were it up to me, I would have already taken over responsibility for her and the rest of your daughters.”
The man stared at him. “Do you truly believe that my Lizzy would have you?”
“Yes,” Darcy said curtly. “Because I have taken the time to listen to her and to allow her to be herself without any expectations on my part. Unlike you, I care more about her than about myself.
“Mr. Bennet, you live in a prison of your own making! You are a stranger to most of your daughters. You ignore anything that does not fit into your view of the world. You are unwilling to bestir yourself—I have even begun to wonder if you love anyone but yourself.”
Mr. Bennet’s lips curved up in an enigmatic smile. “Oh?”
“If you truly loved your family, would you not provide for them? Would you not invest in the land and grow it so that you may have something more to leave for your family’s provision? You will die. They are facing a truly horrifying future—one of privation and misery—and you remain entirely unaffected. Do you know what Miss Elizabeth told me one of the first times we spoke of you? That you had not yet found anything worth leaving your library for. Even your favourite daughter doubts your love for your family.”
Mr. Bennet stared at him for several moments.
“I apologise for the means of my expression, but not the substance of my words,” Darcy said with deliberate evenness. “I love Miss Elizabeth, and I am terrified that, should she refuse me, she will be forced to marry someone who will make her miserable or, worse, to spend her life as the companion of some irascible old woman, ending her life in poverty and alone. Miss Elizabeth is only one of your daughters—I cannot imagine how you can face this future with equanimity, let alone any sense of humour about the matter.”
“What is a man without a sense of humour?” Mr. Bennet said philosophically. “After all, it separates us from the animals. And if one does not laugh at oneself, one will have a miserable life indeed.”
Darcy shook his head. “I can no longer bear to hear you laugh at your daughters’ upcoming misfortunes.”
“Forgive me if I do not believe them to be so dire as you do,” the man said cordially, a hint of fun around his mouth.
“I bid you good day, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said quietly and then left. His anger spent, he was now filled with a deep sorrow at his failure and at Mr. Bennet’s unwillingness to listen. Despite all his striving, he could not make the man listen. Therefore, they must turn to Mrs. Bennet.