With each word, his anger grew, his eyes blazing as they locked onto Mr. Bennet’s. The air in the room thickened, the weight of Darcy’s condemnation laying forth bare truths too long ignored.Mr. Bennet’s mask of indifference cracked, revealing the guilt and discomfort he could no longer hide.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “I could not refuse the money. The scheme to marry Elizabeth to Mr. Collins came later, a convenient excuse when you inevitably arrived. When you returned, I hesitated, but with my wife and daughters absent, it was easier to claim she was already married than to admit the truth.”
Darcy’s response was cold and cutting. “There is much you could not manage. Your daughters have suffered the consequences of your negligence and indifference. A wise man would have safeguarded some of that money for their futures. Properly invested, even six thousand pounds could have provided dowries or ensured their future security. Instead, you squandered it. Had you somehow forced Elizabeth into marriage with Collins, your other daughters still would have faced futures as bleak as ever. While you might place the burden of their education on your wife, it was your duty to equip her with the tools necessary to fulfil that role. Yet you did not. Whatever your daughters have learned, they owe to others—not to you. Instead of doing anything to benefit your family, you sat here, ignoring them and allowing them to continue in ignorance.”
Darcy’s voice grew harsher, but Elizabeth’s steady hand on his arm stopped him before his tirade could continue. “It is of no matter now, Fitzwilliam,” she said gently. “Mama has invited the Gardiners to spend Christmas here at Longbourn. When they return to London, Kitty and Lydia will accompany them. Mama has realised they require proper schooling, and my husband has graciously offered his assistance to make it happen.” This last was directed at her father, who flushed in indignation.
“Am I to have no say in this? No request for my permission, nor even my opinion? I am their father, am I not?” he challenged.
“Are you?” Mrs. Bennet asked, entering the room with an uncharacteristic quiet. “In the last fifteen years, you have scarcely involved yourself in the education of any of your daughters except for Lizzy who you taught to manage the estate in your stead. You left the youngest three entirely to my care, and I did my best with them although I was not raised a gentlewoman. I did the best that I could, and you watched me, knowing it was not enough. I now understand that Kitty and Lydia require a proper education to prepare them for society.
She took a breath, glancing at Mr. Bennet, who appeared taken aback. “Now that Lizzy is married, she can introduce the girls to other young men. But they will need to learn proper decorum before they can be received in society. A governess might have served, but I believe it will be better, particularly for Lydia, if she is away from Longbourn for a time. She is a flirt, and I think she needs to be away from the influences here.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed, her usual bustling energy giving way to an uncharacteristic stillness as a flicker of introspection softened her features. For a moment, she seemed to grapple with the weight of her thoughts, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter and tinged with regret. “Clearly, I will need to make some changes as well, though I am less confident in my ability to do so.” It was obvious to those present that she was reflecting on her own role in shaping Lydia’s wild behaviour.
The sight startled Mr. Bennet, who was unaccustomed to such moments of self-awareness from his wife. Elizabeth, however, recognised the vulnerability in her mother’s demeanour. Without a word, she reached across the table and gently squeezed her mother’s hand, offering silent reassurance. Thegesture seemed to steady Mrs. Bennet, silently urging her to continue down this unfamiliar path of reflection.
The two women had spoken privately the day before at Netherfield, where Mrs. Bennet had shared her regrets and concerns with her daughter. Gathering herself, Mrs. Bennet went on, “When I spoke with Kitty yesterday, she expressed an interest in the arts, so I am hopeful that my sister Gardiner will be able to recommend a good school in London.”
“So everything has been arranged without my input,” Mr. Bennet said, leaning back in his chair, giving the appearance of indifference. “Then I suppose my funds will not be required either.”
“Do not think you are escaping your duty so easily, sir,” Mrs. Bennet cried more in her usual manner, earning a smirk from her husband. “Lizzy has offered to contribute a portion of what is required for the girls to attend school—particularly in purchasing the clothing required for them to attend. However, youwillbe paying the school fees. You have neglected your daughters long enough, and it is high time you took responsibility for their futures.”
For several minutes, Mr. Bennet looked at his wife in surprise, having rarely heard her speak in such a forceful manner. “Doing so will require you to spend less on other things, such as dresses and other fripperies,” he retorted after a moment.
“Yes, but I will not be the only one who will be forced to give up some of my luxuries. You will begin saving for your daughters’ futures. With Lizzy married, and Jane going to stay with her, we will require less at the table and will be more restrained when we do entertain. When our guests depart, we will speak of wayswe can reduce our overall expenses,” Mrs. Bennet said forcefully, causing her husband to look at her in surprise yet again.
Instead of watching Mr. Bennet open and close his mouth like a fish several times, Mrs. Bennet stood. “Come, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy. The girls are waiting in the drawing room to farewell you. I do wish you could remain in the area longer, but I do understand your desire to return to your home.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Bennet,” Elizabeth said coolly, her tone final. “If you ever choose to do more than offer excuses, I shall read your apologies with interest. Until that time, spare both myself and my husband the trouble of your letters. While I will not deprive my mother and sisters of my company, rest assured that on my next visit, I have no intention of disturbing you in your bookroom. As you have made clear, your solitude matters more than your family. Next time, I will leave you to it, for I am certain I shall be quite content never to exchange words with you again.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Bennet sisters waited in the drawing room, having been awoken earlier than usual. Upon Elizabeth and Darcy’s entry, they stood, not having known she was already in the house.
“Lizzy,” Jane greeted her. “Is all well? I thought I heard shouting from Papa’s study.”
While Jane had known the gist of the discussion that was to take place, Elizabeth shook her head as though the whole matter was of little concern. “I was merely telling him good-bye,” she said for the others. “Fitzwilliam and I depart for Derbyshire tomorrow morning, and since he had not bothered to come to see me or even to show his face when I was at Longbourn before, I wanted to make sure I was able to speak to him on this final visit. It was an… emotional meeting.”
Jane nodded, understanding that the interaction had been precisely what Elizabeth expected, and it was not a good one. Choosing instead to drop the matter, she searched for something else to say. “We will miss you, Lizzy,” she settled on after a moment.
“I, for one, will not,” Lydia said petulantly. “I do not know what you and that meddling Mrs. Hargrove said to Mama at Lucas Lodge, but she informed me last night that I am no longer to be considered out and that I am to be made to attend school.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to groan. “Lydia, you are barely fifteen. If we were in Town, you would still be preparing for your debut in society, which would not happen for another two or three years. If you focus on improving yourself and developing your skills, you will have a much better chance of attracting a suitor who can offer you a secure and comfortable future, rather than one who can only provide a tent or a rented cottage.”
“But the officers are so very handsome,” Lydia protested, her voice a whine.
“And so very poor,” Darcy said drily. “The officer you were conversing with at Lucas Lodge—Captain Carter, I believe—earns a modest income of approximately two hundred pounds per annum. At present, he resides in a single room within the house commandeered for the militia’s use. His clothing is laundered by the militia, but should he marry, his wife would be expected to manage such tasks herself.
“As for her meals, while he might dine at the officers’ mess, she would have to prepare her own unless she were invited elsewhere or could afford to purchase a meal at the inn. Naturally, on such a limited income, she would rarely be able to hire a maid, and social invitations for her would be scarce. Tell me, have you noticed any of the officers’ wives attending the gatherings held since their arrival?”
“I did not know any of the officers were married,” Lydia replied, losing a bit of her petulance.
Mrs. Bennet entered the room then. “Lydia, I told you last night that you would no longer be permitted to run wild as you have been. I watched you Saturday evening, and while Captain Carter might have appreciated your flirting with him, he thought of you only as a diversion, not as someone to marry. None of theofficers can afford to marry unless they choose someone who has a dowry, which you do not.”
Darcy cleared his throat, his gaze settling on Lydia with a firm yet composed intensity that quieted the room. “Miss Lydia, I do not believe Captain Carter will trouble you again. After the ladies departed, he made some rather unflattering remarks—about you and several other young ladies. My cousin and I addressed the matter.” His tone was measured, devoid of unnecessary detail, yet it carried an unmistakable weight.
“What did he say?” came the immediate chorus from the Bennet sisters, their curiosity igniting like dry tinder catching a spark. Darcy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by their collective urgency. Their faces reflected a mix of emotions: concern, unease, and, on Lydia’s part, an unsettling glimmer of fascination.
