Page 39 of Moments of Truth
When he took leave—no longer lingering, but with a cheerful resolution that became him even better—Jane stood very still, as if to steady the joy rising within her. Elizabeth slipped an arm about her waist. “He will do all he has said,” she whispered. “He is a man in love.”
“And I—” Jane’s voice shook; she smiled through it. “I, too, am very much in love, Lizzy.”
***
Later, when the house had resumed its ordinary quiet, Mrs. Gardiner drew Elizabeth to the window-seat. “My love,” she said gently, “your eyes are too thoughtful for such a morning. Tell me—are you content?”
Elizabeth looked down at her clasped hands. “I am more nearly content than I deserve to be. Jane’s happiness—oh, Aunt! —it is a salve to everything. And yet—” She hesitated, then chose candour. “I am not easy when I remember how unjust I have been—how proud in my own way.”
“Regret is a good beginning, but not a habitation,” Mrs. Gardiner said softly. “If there is a wrong to be set right, trust that Providence will grant you the occasion—and be ready when it comes.”
Elizabeth thought of a letter, grave and honourable; of a gentleman whose reserve had once offended and now, strangely, seemed to draw her by promising a truer depth.If such an occasion comes, she vowed silently,I will be honest. I will be just.
SEVEN
Longbourn, May 15, 1812
The May twilight lay soft upon the windows of Longbourn, turning the familiar parlour into a haze of dusky rose and lavender. After chattering themselves hoarse over London finery and the latest gossip of the regiment, Lydia and Kitty had at last flitted upstairs; Mary had withdrawn to her books with an air of solemn satisfaction; Mrs. Bennet still moved about the drawing-room, alternately exclaiming over the good fortune of having both her eldest daughters restored to her and imagining aloud the triumphs that must soon follow.
Mr. Bennet, who had observed this domestic chorus with one of his half-amused, half-wearied smiles, presently rapped the poker against the grate. “Jane, Lizzy—when your mother has done composing raptures upon the pianoforte of her imagination, I should be glad of a few minutes with my two eldest. Will you come into the library, please?”
Mrs. Bennet, too transported to object, fluttered her handkerchief at them. “Yes, yes, go, girls. Your father always has his whims of conversation. Only do not stay too long, for I have ten things more to ask you.”
The sisters followed their father into the small book-lined sanctuary that was his pride. He closed the door with deliberate care and motioned them to the chairs opposite his own. His eyes—keen under brows that masked more kindness than he liked to confess—regarded them steadily.
“My dear girls,” he began, in a tone at once lighter and more serious than they expected, “you have returned to me from London looking remarkably well; but I perceive there are matters of weight that lie beyond your mother’s notice. I cannot be accused of curiosity, for I generally prefer ignorance; yet there are times when even a father must inquire. Jane, Lizzy—let us speak plainly. I would gladly here the news from you.”
Elizabeth’s heart beat quicker. She glanced at Jane, whose gentle countenance betrayed both anticipation and anxiety.
Mr. Bennet folded his hands. “First—Jane. Word has reached me from Gracechurch Street that a certain young man has remembered where his heart lies. Am I to understand that Mr. Bingley has renewed his attentions?”
Jane coloured, but spoke with composed candour. “Yes, Papa. He visited us at Gracechurch Street. His manner was all that was respectful and affectionate. I believe he means to continue his suit—with your approval.”
“Approval?” Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched. “I should think so. A man who knows his own mind at last is a treasure to be cherished. Well, child, I am glad. It eases me to see your serenity restored.”
“Now, Lizzy. Here the case is rather different. While you were in Kent, a certain gentleman—Mr. Darcy—called at Longbourn and requested my permission to pay his addresses to you.”
Elizabeth met her father’s eye steadily, though her colour deepened.
“As I wrote you in town,” continued Mr. Bennet, with a half-smile at her composure, “I gave him no encouragement beyond a father’s conditional reply—that if my daughter’s inclination should lean his way, I would not oppose it. But I am bound toask you, Lizzy: how does the matter stand with you? For not long since you professed a dislike most decided.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly. “I did dislike him, and said so freely. But I was unjust—too hasty in my judgments. Since then I have learnt much that alters my opinion. He—he entrusted me with a letter, setting forth explanations I could not disregard. I will not say I love him, Papa; but neither can I be indifferent. What I wish—what I ask—is the liberty to know him better, and to judge him more fairly than I did before.”
Her father regarded her with an expression that mingled curiosity and affection. “Lizzy, Lizzy—so you are at last caught? I never expected to see the day. But I like your honesty. We shall proceed with caution. No daughter of mine shall be hustled into matrimony by urgency, wealth, or even noble connexions. If he is the man you believe him, he will endure a little probation.”
Elizabeth’s eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you, Papa.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back. “Very well. Here are my terms, which I shall lay before both gentlemen. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy may call—at decent morning hours, not skulking about at twilight like poachers. There shall be proper chaperonage; no secret understandings; and, above all, no engagements pressed before the summer has fully passed. Courtship must be proved by constancy.
Jane inclined her head with a blush of relief. Elizabeth, though her heart trembled, felt steadied by her father’s justice.
At that moment Hill entered with a small salver. “A card, sir, and a note delivered not a minute ago. The messenger awaits.”
Mr. Bennet adjusted his spectacles. “Ha! Mr. Bingley requests the honour of calling tomorrow morning—and here, Mr. Darcy joins him in the same design. Very good. The stage is set, mydears.” He laid the papers aside with deliberate calm. “We shall receive them together, by daylight and with our wits about us. That, I think, is the safest policy.”
Jane’s eyes met Elizabeth’s in silent amazement. Elizabeth pressed her sister’s hand. Tomorrow, then—tomorrow the new chapter would begin.
Mr. Bennet, observing them both, allowed himself a smile half whimsical, half tender. “Well, girls, we are embarked upon interesting times. Heaven grant they end in happiness—and not too much noise for your poor father’s nerves.”
