“And are you…bothered?”
“It is one thing for me to reject him. His rejecting me is not so agreeable, but beyond that, I am content to understand it. Nothappy, mind you, but content.”
“I suppose,” Mary grumbled. “Either way, he will be gone, so it does not matter all that much.”
“It does not matter at all.”
Officious Interference
Elizabeth walked in the park the next day, thinking furiously about her discussion. She eventually concluded he was an entirely vexing and confusing man, but somewhere between interesting and fascinating, when steps sounded behind her.
Unable to decide whether she looked forward to one last bout of verbal sparring with her nemesis, she turned, surprised to find Colonel Fitzwilliam bearing down on her with his typical vacuous smile, and assumed a similarly insouciant expression.
“I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”
“I have been making the tour of the park,” he replied, “as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”
“No, I should have turned in a moment.”
Accordingly, she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.
“Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?” said she.
“If Darcy does not put it off again. But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”
“And if not able to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least pleasure in the great power of choice. I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr Darcy.”
The colonel chuckled. Too late, she perceived how uncharitable she had sounded, and how probably unjust.
“Of course, while I have complete faith in Lady Catherine, I do believe she relies on your cousin for many things. It is equally likely other duties have arisen, so perhaps we should not be so hard on him.”
The colonel mostly ignored her amendment, which annoyed her.
“He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”
Elizabeth grew more vexed by the stupidity of the assertion, especially after staringtruegenteel poverty in the face, with no relief in sight a few months earlier. Perhaps the soldier meant to be humorous, but his sense of his audience showed a certain lack of discernment. She answered more sharply than was probably polite, little though she cared.
“In my opinion, the younger son of an earl can know very little of either. Now seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?”
“These are home questions—and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.”
“Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”
“Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”
By then, Elizabeth had endured as much of the man as she cared for. She was again reminded of Mary’s yapping cur and thought to examine her ankles for bites.
They spoke of Mr Darcy’s sister, who suffered the cousins as guardians, which frankly sounded like a terrible idea. She desperately hoped there was a woman—any woman—somewhere in the mix, else the poor girl was likely to be completely unacquainted with how to live in the world. However, Miss Darcy’s fate was no more her concern than Mr Darcy’s, so she let the subject drop.
The colonel prattled on for a few more minutes while Elizabeth’s thoughts went more and more to his cousin, who at least was interesting, vexing though he was.
The colonel swept a fallen branch from the path, and she said without thinking, “Thank you, Mr Bingley.”
No sooner had the words escaped her mouth than she gasped, “I beg your pardon, Colonel. Something occasionally fails betwixt my brain and my mouth.”
He laughed. “At least you did not call me Darcy. A man without his handsomeness or consequence does not like to be reminded of it, but Bingley I can endure. We are similar enough that the confusion is understandable.”
“You know the Bingleys?”
