Page 6 of Till Death Us Do Part
Being absent from the house was not easily done, since the Bennets were being mildly shunned by Meryton society while itwaited to see what would happen. Since most of the denizens of the village assumed Mr Darcy would eventually be brought to the point, the ostracization was not in full effect just yet. Mrs Bennet had doubled down on her large bet by telling all and sundry that she fully expected both Mr Darcy to return with an offer for her daughter Lizzy, and Mr Bingley to return for Jane as well. Nobody believed the latter, and almost nobody believed the former, but they were willing to give it a few more days to see. The entire debacle was entertaining if nothing else.
Elizabeth said, “I repeat myself,Father.I will not marry that man.I will not spend the rest of my life paying for my parents’ indolence. The gossip will die down eventually if we quit throwing fuel on the fire.”
“You will, but—”
Whatever Mr Bennet was planning to say was interrupted by the parlour door opening. Mrs Hill stepped in gingerly. She was not afraid per-se, since anyone who survived a decade of Fanny Bennet had to be resilient. That said, she wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible so she would have enough time to prepare for whatever self-induced crisis would follow.
She handed the patriarch a card. “Mr Darcy to see Mr Bennet.”
Bennet glanced at the card and snapped at his family. “You will all cease this nattering at once!I can only hope he did not hear the last five minutes of yelling and screeching, though that amounts to hoping he is stone deaf.”
Mrs Hill said, “I saw him alight and come in, sir. He looks terribly angry, but I do not believe he heard anything out of the ordinary. It is down one flight and quite a distance to the front door, even for—”
With that, she quit while she was well enough ahead, glancing at Elizabeth and Mrs Bennet, neither of whom had been quiet or subtle in their recriminations.
Mr Bennet said, “Thank you, Hill. I have always lamented the lack of sensible people in this house, but I was just looking in the wrong place.”
Hill gave a small nod. “Shall I see him to the library, sir?”
“Yes, pray do. As to the rest of you—” and he looked around at his brood with an intense stare. “Elizabeth, you will wait in the white parlour until I ring for you. Keep in mind that you are still my daughter and subject to my rules, like them or not. The rest of you are not to leave this room until I return.”
With a hard stare at his wife, followed by another at his offspring, ending with a stern warning complete with finger wag at Elizabeth, he left to meet his future son-in-law.
Half an hour later, Elizabeth was sitting nervously fingering the bruise on her arm, shaking in trepidation and fear. She believed Mr Darcy had hold of her arm when her mother started caterwauling, or perhaps he grabbed her reflexively. Either way, he ended up squeezing hard enough to raise a rather nasty bruise.
Mr Bennet did not know about the incident, but Elizabeth had seen a farmer’s wife beat black and blue by her husband, ending with a broken arm, when she was twelve years old. The image haunted her for months. The farmer was not prosecuted for the assault, and was not even overly chastised by local society, as he was considered within his rights. Later, the young lady had overheard a discussion about the legal aspects of such abuse. Apparently, the rule of thumb was that a man could beat his wife as much as he chose, so long as the rod was no larger than his thumb and he did not kill her. She had no idea if that were true or an old tale, but the fact that someone could even suppose such a thing was terrible enough.
Now, the ‘gentleman’ her parents proposed as husband could raise a bruise that was still present a week later without even thinking about it. What would happen if he became truly angry, or decided to use a rod or fists? She had no reason to believe he acted that way ordinarily, but little evidence against the thesis either. The bruise could easily be an accident, caused by the shock of Mrs Bennet’s subterfuge or just the way the man acted normally. Perhaps Mr Wickham was right, and Mr Darcy was a proud and cruel man. If true, it would explain nearly everything she had ever seen. Elizabeth had no idea if that was to be her lot, but she was also in no hurry to find out.
The half-hour of sitting alone in the dismal parlour, waiting for the two men who had control of her life to finish their conference, shook her to the bone. She could hear the shouting even through the thick library door, which was certainly a bad sign. She was only glad Mr Bennet had kept the rest of the family upstairs where they were not likely to hear. She only hoped her father had been equally careful with the servants, not that she expected to escape the gossip anyway. Whatever her prospective groom and her father were arguing about was quite violent, as she had now heard all the shouts that gentleman had ever said in her life in a single half-hour. There seemed a vigorous dispute about something, but Elizabeth had no idea what.
She startled out of worrying her bottom lip and chewing her nails when the library door slammed open. Elizabeth stared up to see Mr Darcy striding out of the room with an even fiercer than usual scowl and her father trailing behind matching him frown for frown.
Mr Darcy and her father bowed to each other like two men made of stone, and Mr Bennet said, “Join me now, Elizabeth. First though, perhaps, Mr Darcy would like a moment with you.”
Mr Bennet turned and walked back to the library, while Elizabeth came into the hall. She nervously curtsied but had no idea why, nor any concept of what to say.
Mr Darcy nodded his head so slightly it was barely detectable, then spoke in a threatening whisper that was more frightening than shouting would have been.“You win this round, Miss Bennet. Good luck with the next!”
Elizabeth gasped, realising that her proposed husband thought that she was aparticipantin the debacle.
She shouted angrily, “Mr Darcy, I wasnota part of—” but by that time, she was talking to empty air, as the gentleman had turned abruptly before she started speaking and was already halfway through the door.
He turned at the last moment and spoke menacingly. “Never deny it again, Miss Bennet. I may be in a family position where I can be worked, and I will do my duty to protectmy family’sreputation—butI am not stupid.”
He was out the door and gone too soon to hear her voice voice trail off to, “—this debacle.”
The door slammed like a harbinger of doom, and the next phase of her miserable existence began.
Elizabeth stared at the closed door and started shaking in fear. She stood rooted to the spot for a moment but deciding her courage must rise to this challenge as it never had before. She straightened up, turned, and marched into the library to start the battle for her soul.
3.The Battle for Her Soul
“I repeat, I will not marry that man!”
Elizabeth stood tall, angry, and defiant, but doing her best not to shout at her father.
For his part, the gentleman was still in high dudgeon and had no idea who he was angrier with. All he asked of his ridiculous family was to get through one ridiculous ball without scandal. After that, the sheep-like Mr Bingley would take his eldest daughter off his hands. Collins would take the second eldest, and he would only be left with the last three and his silly wife. As an added inducement, the one he had previously considered the most sensible (or least silly) daughter would eventually be the mistress of Longbourn upon his demise, thus freeing him of any further obligation to worry about his wife and unwed daughters.
