Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Hmmmm.” Mr. Bennet frowned and pulled off his spectacles. There was a faint whiff of cognac, old dusty books, and beeswax that filled the Longbourn bookroom. Mr. Bennet splashed some liquid onto a soft cloth to rub the lenses clean. “You wish to marry my Lizzy?”
Darcy had expected… well for Mr. Bennet to be visibly delighted. To also display the general happiness that the Gardiners, Bingley, and Elizabeth’s other friends showed at the prospect of their union.
Mr. Bennet’s expression was grave, considering, and clearly not particularly happy.
A sort of nervous frisson went through Darcy. Was this man considering refusing his offer?
A possibility which had in fact never occurred to Darcy. He saw himself, correctly, as an eligible match for any woman in the kingdom.
“Well, well, well.”
“If you are surprised by my application, I can assure you that my affection for your daughter has been of long standing and—”
“Eh, you were thinking about her when you decamped Netherfield so quickly?”
Darcy’s lips thinned. The memory of that night would not be one which he would ever welcome.
“Well?”
Darcy shrugged. “I had already at the time determined I would wish to marry Elizabeth. However, circumstances at the time were such that she refused the offer of my hand which I madethatnight. However my admiration of her was in no way dispelled by the passage of five months, and when we renewed our acquaintance when I visited my aunt in Rosings, she was then happy to accept my also renewed proposals.” Darcy gestured towards the note that Elizabeth had written for her father. “I imagine all pertinent information is contained within.”
“Girlish effusions, proclamations of rational delight, the claim that you make her laugh, which I believe. I can tell that despite your manners you have a sense of the ridiculous, and an ability to point it out. I have always rather liked you, Mr. Darcy — in any case, I am her father, nother. And a delight with your person, noble mien, and fine bearing will have little influence on me.”
Darcy stiffened. “I am coming before you with a simple request. I do not mean to be made sport of, or—”
“Calm down. Do be calm.” Mr. Bennet smiled. “Youth. Always expecting everything to happen in an instant. Settle down, and let me arrange my thoughts so I can speak seriously.”
Thatwas a request Darcy would always respect, as he found often enough a need to pause in conversation himself so that he might find the most felicitous, or useful way to phrase what he wished to say.
After a minute Mr. Bennet sat straighter in his chair, placing the reading spectacles to the side by the sheet full of mechanical drawings that he’d been sketching out when Darcy entered the room. “Might as well say it straight out: I have concerns about your character, and perhaps you can alleviate them — Elizabeth’s effusive and laughing note did not.”
“Concerns about my character?” Darcy stiffened with actual offense. “I assure you that whatever stories you have heard about me and Miss Bingley, or about—”
“Calm down again. I mean to say, I did not like to see how you instantly severed relations with one of your closest friends the first time he made a serious — but even then not asoserious mistake — that harmed you. I observed the event myself. You cannot explain to me how this was a misunderstood story.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. I have been married for more than twenty years. My wife and I are still happy and still good companions to each other. I assure you, that if either of us had the slightest tendency to hold durable grudges, or to refuse forgiveness when it was asked for, or even a particular need for the other to admit that we were correct about something when we actually were correct, we would be miserable today. Does your quick leaping mind catch what idea I am gesturing towards?”
“Perhaps,” Darcy replied, almost grudgingly.
“If you marry Elizabeth, you will be delightedly happy. And then one day she will do something you dislike.She will. And some other day the two of you will disagree about some matter of importance, and she will not in a reasonable time decide that you were wholly right about the matter, and you will determine to make yourself and her miserable over the fact. This is what I expect from your behavior with Mr. Bingley.”
Mr. Bennet now fell silent, his keen intelligent eyes studying him. The afternoon sunlight coming through the window glinted off the bald pate of his head. He had a grayish-black fringe of hair everywhere else, and wide sideburns.
Usually when Darcy had met and spoken with him before, Mr. Bennet’s eyes had seemed to be full of the same sort of mischief and delight that Elizabeth’s were. At present he was wholly serious.
The chair creaked as Darcy shifted his weight. There was a slight breeze through the open window that brought the scent of the grass that had been cut that morning.
“I confess to understanding,” Darcy said slowly, “why you are concerned. And that you ought to be concerned. Once you have expressed the problem in such a way, I imagine that if I were in your place, I too would find my behavior a matter for grave consideration.”
Darcy stroked his chin and tugged at his sideburns. He then shrugged. “All I can say is that a conversation with your daughter has already made me aware of this as a flaw in my character, and that I have already determined that I will struggle to overcome it in myself. Elizabeth reminded me that each of us have a spark of the divine in our soul, and the only way that I can be worthy of the hand of such a woman as she is, is if I nurture that spark of the divine. What that means is that I must learn to forgive, whether I wish to or not. I of course cannot promise perfection in this matter, but—”
“None of us can,” Mr. Bennet finished for him. He stroked his chin. “Lizzy was unhappy about how you resented Caroline? And you needed to convince her that you would forgive her friend in some way before she’d accept you?”
“That is roughly,” Darcy said with a smile, “the core of the matter. I admire her loyalty enormously.”
