“It is my duty.”
Mr. Bennet frowned. “That is not—Will you be kind to her? Do you likeher? What do you imagine married life will be over the years—this is a permanent decision. It is not a gift. It is an act of choosing to live together. It is irreversible and permanent. A man should not enter marriage without solemn consideration. You should only marry if you want tolivewith your partner, if you wish to spend time with them, if you wish to talk with them, and if you think that you will still find them delightful once the delight in their loveliness has faded.”
“I do not mean to marry her because of how lovely she is.”
“Duty is not a basis for a happy and satisfying marriage.”
“Icannot. I cannot watch Elizabeth as she struggles and let her walk into a difficult world alone. I have observed how she makes herself smile and laugh, but she worries about the future—I cannot. I cannot leave her to be on her own. She deserves a better life.”
Jove. They both talked about each other like lovers might, and they both refused to say that affection as such was what drove them. A proper couple. Mr. Bennet pressed his fingers together. “I must ask, whilemypride forbids me from asking for money on my child’s behalf, the question is obvious: Whynotjust give her money?”
“I cannot buy forgiveness for my crimes.”
“You also cannot gain forgiveness throughmarriage. You cannot undo Mr. Wickham’s killing, not through any means.”
“No, no, no. That is not it. That is—yes, simply giving her money would feel wrong for that reason. It must be more, have more substance. But that is not—I need toknowshe is happy. To see her well. And George and Emily as well. I can care for them. I know that she might marry someone else. She would. But…but I think, I hope…I have many capabilities. I have virtues to go with my flaws. I have seen her inner character. Her fundamental goodness. How she has cared for me, when she had every reason to despise me. And the children, I have sworn to be their father in truth. I cannot trust anyone else with this task. And I have a duty to see it done well.”
“A duty because you killed Mr. Wickham? It is not an ordinary thing to marry the widow of a man you killed in a duel.”
“A duty because I promised my father that I would care for Mr. Wickham.”
“It is impossible to fulfilthatpromise.”
“The promise passes to his children and his wife, and I can care for them.”
“I—” Mr. Bennet sighed. He rubbed at his chin. “Do you love her?”
Darcy blinked.
The younger gentleman became completely still for a while. He had a frown on his face. Mr. Bennet let him think. He would speak when he was ready.
At last Mr. Darcy said in a different tone of voice, “It is duty. Duty. I have a duty to marry her.”
“That is not what I asked,” Mr. Bennet said softly. “I asked if you love my daughter.”
“I…I do not know. I admire her greatly. But…I couldn’t marry her for that reason. I can only marry her because I killed her husband, and I now have a duty to care for her that is superior to my duty to my family name.”
Mr. Bennet was torn between a desire to sigh, to laugh, and to offer the young man a glass of his own alcohol. “Your family duty matters a great deal to you—might you one day resent my daughter for not being the sort of match you had expected?”
“Of course not, it is my duty to marry her.”
“You may not be aware of this, but there are many persons who come to resent having done a thing that was their duty. You, of course, would never regret such a thing, so I inform you of the existence of such people to explain why I made that inquiry, despite it seeming to be obvious nonsense.”
“You are like her,” Mr. Darcy replied in a tone that was fond.
Mr. Bennet laughed. “Am I?”
“Yes, exceedingly. I can see much of her mannerisms that I love…admire…think well of in you.”
Mr. Darcy frowned again.
It was yet more difficult for Mr. Bennet to not laugh.
“I see you smiling at me,” Darcy said. “And it is much asshewould smile at me. I suppose—I think highly of your daughter. More highly than I have thought of any other woman I know. But that is not why…If I did not have a duty to marry her, I could not.Mypreferences do not come into it.”
“Jove! Quite a pair. The both of you.” Mr. Bennet leaned back and he studied the chandelier. “This is quite a big place for a summer lodging for only your sister.”
“Yes, I suppose.” He frowned. “I let Mrs. Younge select the place, and she thought the prominence of it was important, and that it would benefit Georgiana to manage such an establishment. Likely trusting her in this showed as much ill judgement as trusting her in every other thing.”
