We might have carried on, but she was knocking on the door, and it was time to beard the lion.
~~~
We entered a fairly well-stocked library that was no match for Pemberley but nothing to sneer at either. I remembered discussing literature, history, and philosophy for some time the year Elizabeth turned eighteen, and I assumed I was seeing the source of her education. I tried to cling to the appreciation of the man for letting his daughter learn, or even teaching her, as I would need that to keep my anger at his lack of care for his offspring in check.
“Papa, may I present Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mr Darcy, my father, Mr Bennet.”
The man looked up with a bit of a scowl from a book he had been reading by the fire. From earlier discussions, I concludedhis location and occupation were typical, since indolence seemed his chief defining characteristic.
After looking me up and down with curiosity, suspicion, or both, he gave the standard response, “Mr Darcy, welcome to Longbourn.”
“The pleasure is mine, sir,” I replied politely, though whether the encounter was to be a pleasure or not remained to be seen.
Mr Bennet looked carefully at his daughter, and I speculated he read something of our purpose in her demeanour.
He gestured to another chair. “Have a seat. Would you care for tea, or something stronger?”
“Tea would be appreciated.”
Elizabeth said, “I already asked Hill, so it shall be here soon.”
With that, we sat down, with Elizabeth in a chair between ours like a referee. I wanted to take her hand but dared not. I gave a bit of my background for about five minutes while waiting for the tea. We were both anxious and reluctant to get down to business but allowed the soothing ritual to drag out the event.
When the tea arrived, Elizabeth served, and we all partook for a few minutes. It seemed mildly curious that the man did not try to send Elizabeth away, but I have no idea if that was typical or not.
Eventually, it came time to get down to business.
“Something tells me you came here with a purpose.”
“I have sir. I seek your consent and blessing to wed Miss Elizabeth.”
We had discussed my approach, and Elizabeth suggested I just get on with it, since any attempt to soften the blow would just make her father look for ways to make sport of us.
The man looked stunned, so I continued. Loath as I was to admit it, her father had to know at least some of our history to explain the precipitous engagement.
“I have known your daughter a few years through a distant connection with your brother-in-law, Mr Gardiner,” I said blithely. It was even somewhat true in a way, since whoever set up our initial anonymous meeting probably knew her uncle vaguely, and Elizabeth definitely stayed with her uncle whenever we met.
“We have come to know each other quite well, and I have been in love with her for some time. It is not the work of a moment. This morning, I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”
Elizabeth had told me she went to assemblies, musical events, and such when in London, so allowing him to assume we met at one was an omission I could live with. The implication that I knew Mr Gardiner could not hurt either, though I hoped he did not ask for any details of that entirely fictitious acquaintance.
His face was becoming stonier and stonier as I went on, and I at least appreciated his position. If someone came to me with the same cock and bull story, I would be sceptical too—very sceptical!
Elizabeth said, “You need not be concerned we ever did anything improper, Papa, but I have known him for some time, though we were each unsure of our mutual love and never discussed it until he declared himself—as is proper. I want this very strongly.”
He still stared, which made Elizabeth nervously continue.
“He can care for me, and he also makes any worries about the entail moot, since he can take care of Mama and any unwed sisters in case of your demise. Think what a load that will be from Mama’s mind, and how quiet the house will be once I am well settled and she need never fear the hedgerows again.”
He looked back and forth between us suspiciously and finally asked, “I would know more about these supposed earlier meetings. Why have I never heard of you?”
“The same reason you never knew about the other men I met in London. I am not exactly a misanthrope, and everyone knows London is better territory for husband hunting. You have never been the least bit interested about what I got up to there, and to be honest, though I had high hopes for Mr Darcy for the last few years, I thought them to be just that: hopes. I never imagined he might fall in love with little old me, nor act on it. I am ecstatic that he did. You well know none of your daughters have aught to recommend us aside from our charms, and I count myself the luckiest woman in the world to learn he found what he seeks in me.”
Her father continued looking very sceptical, and I hoped he was not due for a belated bout of parental assertiveness.
“Why the hurry,” he asked. “Is there a… pressing reason?”
“I will not dignify that with an answer,” Elizabeth snapped.
