Six Inches Deep in Mud

Chapter 22

“M iss Bennet, how is your sister?” Mr Bingley asks me, reminding me of a similar greeting just two weeks before.

“She seems well. I thank you for calling Mr Jones. I hope his report will be favourable and he will change his mind about not moving Lydia. We should return home today.”

“It must be uncomfortable still wearing your gown from the ball,” Miss Bingley says.

“It is, but I trust nobody will hold it against me, since it is not my choice,” I answer. Fitzwilliam looks at me, and I wonder whether he will reply. He does not, and I am relieved.

However, his eyes seem fixed on my shawl, and his little mischievous smirk reveals to me that he has guessed what is under it. The recollection of his lips on that particular place is still so clear that I feel exceedingly heated.

“Of course not, Miss Bennet,” Mr Bingley says, but I barely hear him. “If you wish, I can send a servant to fetch a trunk from Longbourn for you and Miss Lydia.”

“You are very kind, sir, but I would rather wait for Mr Jones. I am also certain my sister Jane has already thought to prepare one, waiting only for a word from us. Perhaps we shall be lucky enough not to need it after all.”

“I cannot imagine how Miss Lydia sprained her ankle. I have never witnessed or heard of such an accident at a ball before. But of course, I have rarely attended country balls,” Miss Bingley says.

“I rarely attend balls,” Fitzwilliam interjects, “but I have heard of such accidents, even at Almack’s.”

His reply silences Miss Bingley, and I try to conceal my smile. I almost pity her for the shock she will suffer soon, so I choose to disregard her challenge.

Mr Jones arrives after breakfast, and his examination is brief.

“I am pleased with the improvement — it looks just as I expected. I have no objection to Miss Lydia returning home, but she needs to be carried. I forbid her to put any weight on the ankle for at least two more days.”

“This is wonderful!” I exclaim. “We shall follow your instructions faithfully.”

“Very well. I shall come tomorrow to see her at Longbourn. Until then, give her the herbal tea, massage her ankle with the salve, and keep it bound and bandaged. That should be all that is needed. She is young and, in a fortnight, it will be completely healed.”

With such a positive conclusion, I ask Mr Bingley to help me transport Lydia. The joy of seeing me leave must be so great for Miss Bingley that she insists on her brother providing us with servants to place Lydia in the carriage and lift her down at Longbourn. I thank her kindly; it is diverting to feign ignorance.

An hour later, we are at Longbourn; I am glad to see my sister comfortably placed in her bed with the family around her, making a fuss. But even more, I am overjoyed and nervous for selfish reasons.

I know Fitzwilliam will come soon. He mentioned no particular hour, and I had no chance to talk to him again before I left Netherfield, but he will certainly come at the proper time for calling. This time, I have no doubt.

I take my time to clean and refresh myself, and I put on my favourite day gown, carefully arranging a shawl over my shoulders and chest. The bruises from this morning are still there — less visible but still noticeable.

Mr Collins is not at home, and I wisely choose not to enquire after him.

“Lizzy, you must be more attentive to Mr Collins!” Mama says when I think I have escaped the danger. “A few days ago, he was talking about you all the time and showed you particular attention every day. But you were nothing but indifferent, even rude to him, and since yesterday, I have hardly heard him mention you! I am worried that you may lose your only chance to marry reasonably well.”

A day prior, I would have brushed Mama’s concerns impatiently and probably angrily away. Now, I can afford to smile and embrace her, saying, “Mama, I promise that if by tonight you still wish me to marry Mr Collins, I shall make every effort to regain his interest.”

I cannot remember the last time Mama threw me such a glance of complete bewilderment. We rarely embrace in such a manner, and I am rarely obedient or accommodating to her, so her confusion is understandable. Even Jane gives me a doubtful look and keeps glancing at me every so often with puzzlement, to which I only reply with a smile.

As we are all tired after the ball, we all go to rest. Installed comfortably in our room, Jane is telling me about Mr Bingley’s attentions. Her enthusiasm adds to my own happiness, and I wish to be able to share it with her, but I choose to wait a little longer, until Papa has given his consent.

An hour later, we are startled by a sudden knock on the door, and Kitty enters.

“Jane, Mama wants you to come down immediately. Mr Bingley is here! She says you should make yourself pretty and come down at once. Mr Darcy has gone to speak to Papa in his book room, but Mr Bingley is waiting for you. Make haste!”

My heart races, and I glance at my image in the mirror, then help Jane with her hair. I know Mama is expecting a marriage proposal today. She might have two, but of one I am certain, just as I am certain of the shock it will cause.

As we enter, Mr Bingley stands to greet us; he and Mama have been talking about the ball, and we continue the conversation — or rather Mama talks and Mr Bingley nods from time to time, gazing at Jane. I pay little attention to anything, looking repeatedly at the door and willing it to open.

“We were indeed surprised to see Mr Collins at Netherfield,” Mr Bingley says, drawing my attention.

“Mr Collins?” I repeat.

“Yes. He came to speak to Darcy just after you left.”

“What could Mr Collins possibly have to discuss with Mr Darcy?” Mama asks. “I wondered where he had gone so early, but he only said he had some business. Do you happen to know where he is now?”

“I do not know. He mentioned something about going into Meryton, I believe. I am not aware of the subject of their discussion either.”

“Well, it does not matter. We are happy to have you here, Mr Bingley,” Mama says.

“I am very happy to be here,” he replies, and Jane blushes.

A little while later, Fitzwilliam returns. He greets me and Jane, then says, “Miss Elizabeth, your father is waiting for you in the library.”

I stand, my knees barely supporting me, while Mama and the others pay me no attention. I have entered Papa’s sanctuary so many times that it is my favourite room in the house. Even when Papa demands solitude, I am still allowed in. Now, I need a moment to compose myself at the door before I finally enter.

I find my father sitting in his chair, his spectacles on the desk, staring at the fire, holding a glass of brandy; his eyes do not turn to me when I enter.

“To say that I am stunned would be an understatement,” he says. “I might wonder whether you or Mr Darcy — or both — are not by any chance playing tricks on me.”

“Papa…” I take a chair and sit in front of him, but he holds a hand up, stopping me.

“So, let me summarise for you, Lizzy, in case I am just an old, witless fool. My two eldest — and wisest — daughters went to an assembly a while ago in the company of their mother and sisters. One of them danced with and charmed a gentleman. The other was rejected and offended by another gentleman. Over the next few days, I only heard of how amiable and handsome and rich and generally flawless the first gentleman was and how unpleasant and disagreeable and arrogant the second one was, despite him being also richer and even more handsome. Then one of my daughters fell ill at Netherfield, and the other one went to nurture her. Several days later, both gentlemen — the pleasant one and the arrogant one — came to visit me. Strangely enough, as much as I enjoyed the first gentleman’s company, I liked the second one even better.”

He pauses, sips from his glass, and finally looks at me.

“Now, here comes my confusion. I was well aware of the first gentleman’s partiality to one of my daughters and even expected a marriage proposal. Well, in fact, your mother did more than I. But, more to the point, a few minutes ago, I was anticipating a pleasant time with the second gentleman, who seems to prefer my company to that of the ladies, unlike his friend. Imagine my shock when the visit proved to be not a friendly call but a private one! The second gentleman came to ask my permission to marry my second daughter, the one he had offended during their first meeting and for whom he claimed to now possess a deep admiration and affection. Of which I was completely ignorant. Can you see my conundrum, Lizzy, and my suspicions of being mocked?”

“Papa, if you will allow me, I shall explain it to you.”

“Please do so! Perhaps my summary was incorrect, after all!”

“Your summary was correct, but there are many details missing. It is not quite so complicated, really.”

“Is it not? Do enlighten me — how come? A gentleman worth ten thousand a year wishes to marry my daughter who has no dowry, no connections, nothing to offer. A man who disregarded you entirely not six weeks ago is now willing to marry you? Somebody must be out of their senses in this story!”

“Nobody is, Papa,” I reply; his distress, almost panic, pains me, but I cannot help smiling. “Can you please tell me what you told Mr Darcy?”

“What could I tell him, Lizzy, except that I am shocked and honoured by his request? Indeed, he is such a man to whom I would not dare refuse anything he might ask of me. But I am exceedingly distressed, Lizzy. I fear this is a huge mistake. Is there…did something happen between you that forced him to propose?”

“Papa! How can you ask that? Of course not!”

“Then I cannot explain it in any other way than to believe his statement about his affection for you. Either he is deeply in love with you, or he is completely out of his mind.”

“I assure you it is not the latter, Papa,” I reply tenderly.

“It might be or not. But Lizzy, my deepest concern is for you. He is rich, to be sure. You will have a situation beyond everything I hoped for. And he is clever and educated. Handsome too. But will you be able to love him? Did you accept him for his fortune? Or perhaps you are afraid your mother will force you to marry Mr Collins?”

My father’s worry is genuine, but his mistrust hurts me, and I feel tears burning my eyes.

“Papa, I am glad your opinion of Mr Darcy is so high, but it pains me to know you think so little of me as to question my reasons for marrying him. I fell in love with Mr Darcy long before I imagined he would propose to me, and before Mr Collins even came to Longbourn. And not for a second did I take into consideration his fortune, his estate, his connections, or his situation. His intellect and education, yes. And I might not have a dowry or connections, but I am proud to have that something that Mr Darcy finds worthy of love and admiration.”

My father wipes his own tearful eyes, then kisses my hands.

“Forgive me, my child. I have always trusted you, and I value you more than anyone else I know. But I was shocked by the news. And precisely because I know your value. I know how painful it would be for you to enter into a marriage without affection.”

“I understand that, Papa. And please know that you have nothing to worry about in that regard!”

With that, I embrace him; we are both tearful, and his kiss on my forehead is the blessing I need.

We return to the others together; Fitzwilliam looks concerned when he sees the tears in my eyes, and I smile at him, pleased to see his face relax. After some pleasantries exchanged with my father, the gentlemen finally take their leave, and as soon as they depart, Mama loudly expresses her disappointment.

“I was so sure Mr Bingley would propose today, but he did not! He certainly needs more encouragement! And more privacy! Next time he comes, you will take him for a stroll in the garden, Jane, and you should—”

“Mama!” interrupts my sweet sister, shock written on her face.

“No ‘Mama’, girl! You know he will return to London soon. He cannot possibly leave before you are engaged! I shall take care of that.”

“Mama!”

“And Mr Collins, where is he? I must have a serious discussion with him tonight!”

“My dear Mrs Bennet, you should calm yourself. Your nerves will not appreciate this agitation,” Papa says conciliatorily. “I understand you are determined to see Mr Bingley engaged to Jane.”

“Of course!”

“What about Mr Collins, then? What do you wish to discuss with him?”

“You know that too well, Mr Bennet, but you like to torture my poor nerves! Very well, I shall explain again. Mr Collins told me very clearly that he intended to propose to Lizzy, and I shall insist on him doing so — and on Lizzy accepting him!”

My father takes a sip from his glass, then places it on the nearest table.

“I am very sorry to hear that, Mrs Bennet. If I knew you would insist so much on Lizzy marrying Mr Collins, I would have refused Mr Darcy when he asked for my consent and her hand in marriage earlier.”

Mama stares at him, mouth agape, perfectly still. Then she stares at me, then back at him.

“You understand I am very angry with you, Mr Bennet, for mocking me. I do not want to be the subject of your jokes…or yours, Miss Lizzy!”

“Indeed, I believed the same, my dear. I even said so to Lizzy — you may ask her. I thought Mr Darcy was mocking me, but he insisted on telling me about his affection and his admiration for Lizzy and his wish to marry soon.”

“I do not understand,” Mama says. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean that Mr Darcy asked for Lizzy’s hand in marriage, and I gave him my consent. But if you disapprove, I shall send him a note and say I have changed my mind.”

Mama stands up, her mouth covered with her fist, looking at him, searching for the smallest clue that he is indeed in jest. Jane, Kitty, and Mary also look stunned and speechless.

“Is this a joke? Surely this is a joke,” Mama repeats. “It cannot be true! Lizzy, are you doing this to upset me?”

“Mama, please! I assure you it is true, indeed! Mr Darcy proposed to me this morning, and I accepted him. Then he came to ask for Papa’s consent. We are engaged, and we shall be married soon.”

“No, no, no! This cannot be. Can it? Mr Darcy? Mr Darcy? Lizzy, how is this possible? Why would Mr Darcy marry you? Will he? If he does, who cares what the reason is? But is it true, really true? Good gracious! Lord bless me! And he was here, and I said nothing to him? This is not possible!”

“Dear Mama, yes, Mr Darcy is in love with me, and I am in love with him. He proposed, and we shall marry soon. It is true and beyond any doubt.”

The more reassurance I give Mama, the more her agitation increases. Hill comes in with the smelling salts, as we are afraid she might faint — which she does not.

She keeps crying, laughing, asking, doubting, in a tumult so loudly expressed that I am grateful Fitzwilliam is not here to witness it.

“May I conclude, my dear, that you are not very disappointed that Lizzy will not marry Mr Collins?” Papa enquires.

“Mr Collins? Who cares about him? Oh, how sly you are, Lizzy! You are in love with Mr Darcy! That is why you refused Mr Collins! How clever of you! My dear girl, you are the cleverest girl of all! Dear me. Mr Darcy, of all men! As rich as an earl, and so tall and handsome!”

She pauses for a moment to catch her breath, then bursts out again, “Dear Lord! But why did Mr Collins go to speak to Mr Darcy? Did he know something? What if he was jealous? What if he called Mr Darcy out and they will duel? What if he hurts Mr Darcy?”

“Mama!” I laugh, amused at how her mind jumps and imagines every impossible outcome. “I assure you we have no reason to worry. I cannot imagine Mr Collins’s reason to call on Mr Darcy, but I would wager he does not suspect my engagement, and I would double this wager on the fact that he has no intention at all of fighting Mr Darcy.”

I need more time and energy to calm her before dinner, but my success is not complete until Mr Collins arrives home, informing us he has some news and requesting a formal discussion.

“My dear Mr and Mrs Bennet, my dear cousins. After long deliberation, I am pained to inform you that, based on Lady Catherine’s specific requests, I have decided upon the most suitable partner for me and the one who will entirely meet her ladyship’s expectations. I even asked Mr Darcy’s opinion this morning, and he supported my decision. Therefore, I am happy to inform you that as of an hour ago, I am engaged to be married to Miss Charlotte Lucas!”

His announcement takes us by surprise for many reasons, but it is a day of surprises, after all. I am about to congratulate him when Mama says bluntly, “You are engaged to Charlotte Lucas? We should congratulate you indeed, as that is an excellent choice. Lizzy would have refused you in any case. By the by, Lizzy will marry Mr Darcy! He proposed today! Lady Catherine will have double the reasons to be happy!”