Page 32 of Most Truly the Gentleman

“Any man of honour would,” he said. His presence was greeted with shock by all and horror by Mr Bennet and his more sensible daughters. “My cousin, I have no doubt whatsoever, would agree. Colonel Fitzwilliam has the ear of your colonel, Mr Pratt. If word of this were to be spread abroad and harm his friends at Longbourn, you might find your career in the militia much less comfortable thenceforth.”

Mr Pratt blanched and swiftly assured them all that there was no reason the name ‘Bennet’ should ever pass his lips again, save in the most genteel and approving terms. Darcy fixed him with a severe frown and said that he had best hold to that resolution. Mr Pratt bowed and scuttled off with an expression of mingled fear and relief.

“May I ask,” enquired Mr Bennet with no little trepidation, “that you forget what you witnessed here today, Mr Darcy?”

“As far as the world is concerned, I saw nothing, and I know nothing,” he assured the man. “Though I think I must have a word with my cousin, as I have pledged action on his behalf, I know I may speak for him when I assure you that his ignorance will be as profound as my own.”

“I thank you, sir.” He bowed briefly, then turned upon his youngest daughter. “We are returning to Longbourn now,” he informed her, positively vibrating with rage. “You are to be quiet and draw no attention to yourself, do you understand? You are on a walk with your family, and all is well.”

Miss Lydia had the minimal good sense to silently nod and follow meekly, Miss Catherine linking arms with her, as he led them the short distance to the end of the passage, which would put them on the more secluded path behind the row of shops.

Miss Elizabeth did not instantly follow, but paused to say, “You have my thanks also, sir. I know not how we should have secured his silence.”

He bowed and said, “It was my pleasure to be of service to your family.”

With a brief, tight smile, she spun and hurried to catch up with them. He turned and went back the way he had come, emerging into a picture of village life, the residents going about their business or their pleasure, greeting each other, peering into shop windows. No one stared, no one whispered; there was not the slightest hint of the swift gallop of fresh scandal. He moved towards the library, tipping his hat to those he knew, and hoping most fervently that the Bennets had escaped calumny.

21

SOME GREAT MISMANAGEMENT

“Well, Lydia,” Mr Bennet commented with a dangerous edge when they were away from the town and quite alone on the shaded path to Longbourn, “Mr Darcy’s quick thinking may have saved your reputation.”

“How was I to know Mr Pratt was married?” Lydia whined. “He never said!”

Elizabeth had never seen her father so enraged as he now became. “You stupid, stupid girl!” he shouted, red-faced. Lydia backed away from him, but he stalked towards her, not allowing her to evade his wrath. “Even had he been free to marry you, such a hasty wedding must have raised the suspicions of the entire county and lessened your sisters’ prospects. I beg you believe me when I say that I should have washed my hands of you entirely, no matter how unhappy you later counted yourself!”

Lydia’s lower lip quivered, and fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I only wanted to be the first of my sisters to marry.”

This piece of foolishness did nothing to dampen Elizabeth’s own ire. “If what you have done becomes public knowledge, it may very well be that none of us ever marry. I assure you that if such were to occur, when Papa was gone and we were all living on two hundred pounds a year, we would remember who ensured that none of us would be better settled!”

Lydia shrank from Elizabeth, her tears falling faster, but her ordeal was not yet concluded.

“I am ashamed to know you,” pronounced Kitty coldly, and this utter rejection by one who had been her faithful follower for years seemed to rob Lydia of the power of speech. For the remainder of their hurried walk back to Longbourn, Lydia sniffled and hiccupped with head bowed. Elizabeth could only hope that the day’s events would remain secret, that Mary would not be sundered from her Mr Collins, nor Jane from Mr Bingley, and that the hopes she and Kitty cherished of finding happiness in marriage one day would not be spoiled. For Lydia’s hopes, she could not yet bring herself to feel any concern.

They re-entered Longbourn the way they had left, slipping in through the garden door. Upstairs, Mr Bennet took Lydia directly to her room, Kitty trailing behind to change out of her walking shoes, while Elizabeth entered the chamber she shared with Jane to do likewise. Kitty came to her only moments later, slippers in hand, looking weary and anxious.

“Papa is giving her such a scolding, I thought I ought to leave them alone,” she explained, availing herself of the little bench before the dressing table to untie her boots. “Do you suppose Mary might let me stay with her tonight? I am so very angry at Lydia that I do not wish even to be in the same room as her. It is true, is it not, that we might all end as spinsters because of what she has done? You were not exaggerating to frighten her?”

Elizabeth grimaced. “Perhaps a touch. It is not as though she fell with child. I do not believe we would be forever and always shunned if her actions become known, but Kitty, we already have very little to offer a gentleman. A small dowry and that only after Mama is gone, few accomplishments, and no connexions. We have our faces, our figures, our gentle birth, and our reputations. It has never been very likely that we should all marry, and anything which diminishes our meagre attractions is a serious thing.”

“And I have encouraged her in behaving badly,” Kitty said dolefully. “Had I chosen to emulate you and Jane...”

Elizabeth smiled sadly. “She would still have had ample encouragement from Mama. You are but a year and a half her elder, Kitty—it was not for you to teach her how to go on. That duty belonged to her parents.” She set her own boots aside, standing and stepping into her slippers. “Come, change your shoes, and then we must brush the dust off of each other’s skirts and go to the parlour. Please, do not say anything to Mama of this. If there is gossip, she will have to be informed, but if it remains secret, the only way to keep it so will be to ensure she knows nothing.”

Solemnly, Kitty nodded. “I understand, Lizzy. I know I have been guilty of blabbing in the past, but I shall be as silent as the grave on this subject. If there is talk, it will not be my doing.”

Mrs Bennet looked up querulously from a sheaf of fashion plates when they entered the parlour a few minutes later. “And just where have the two of you been all this time? Jane said you had all agreed there was enough lavender.”

“We went to Papa’s book-room to look at a poem I thought Kitty would enjoy,” Elizabeth dissembled cheerfully. “And while we were there, we fell into conversation with him.”

“You are not to turn your sister into a bluestocking, Miss Lizzy,” her mother scolded.

“I believe it is rather fashionable for a lady to admit to an interest in poetry, Mama,” Jane said mildly. “When Aunt Gardiner was here, she said that all the talk among the ladies in town was of Sir Walter Scott’s latest publication.”

Mrs Bennet harrumphed softly. “Well, if it is acceptable in London, I suppose I must allow it, but you are not to emulate your sister in having your nose forever in a book, Kitty.”

“I assure you, Mama, that will not happen. I am not such a great reader.”