Page 22 of A Prudent Engagement

What was her true opinion of Mr. Darcy?

She tried to make herself think of him as she had that morning—only seeing his arrogance, how he expected to have matters arranged to suit himself, the way that he was quiet and presumptuous.

She saw in her memory his eyes as he asked her to tell him about her papa. He had said that he wished to know her father better by hearing her stories since there was no other way.

He had held her hand.

A shiver ran through her body. She was terrified, but she also wanted to smile.

She was not sure whether she had ever disliked him. Perhaps he had merely frustrated her a great deal.

Mr. Gardiner said, “Your expression shows that you are not full of spite or deep dislike for him.”

“Not filled with spite! Is that all that is expected before a man and a woman embark upon the ocean of a long life together? I always meant to be in love when I married. I cannot say that I am in love with Mr. Darcy. I disliked him only this morning—no, maybe I did. I at least believed that I disliked him.”

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Gardiner said seriously, “you know that after your father’s death, life will be different, but it is hard for you to really understand how serious the change will be. You cannot yet know how the loss of consequence will feel when there is only two hundred pounds a year rather than two thousand. I shall do what I can, as will the Phillipses. But we all have our own children, and Mr. Bennet was richer by a great margin than any of us. If Mr. Darcy asks you to marry him, you ought to seriously consider his offer. It would make life easier for you all.”

“And then I would be simply the sort of mercenary fortune hunter whom I have always despised, marrying a man chiefly because he is rich.”

Mr. Darcy deserves better than that.

“Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said, “I beg you to not allow contrariness to drive you to a decision that you will regret.”

Her aunt’s expression and solemn tone sobered Elizabeth. “Will matters really be so strained if I do not marry?”

Before Mrs. Gardiner could reply, Jane re-entered the room. Her eyes were red, but she had made some effort to rub away the effect of the tears, and she looked, as always, angelic.

Elizabeth rose. She studied her sister cautiously.

Jane slowly walked across the room to embrace Elizabeth. “I was unkind. I was. I should not have been so unkind to you. I must never let myself appear so unhappy—I shall not again. And I know that you would never marry a man simply for money. You are hurt, and you miss Papa as much as I do.”

“I do. I do!”

“Things will never be truly happy,” Jane said mournfully. “No, no. I must not say that. And it is not true. In time we shall be happy again.”

Mr. Gardiner said, “Jane, you have a right to be mournful now, even though you will recover in time. It is proper to mourn your parents when they die, but while it would be disrespectful to not feel grief, I am a father, and I sometimes consider what it will be like for my children when I am dead, and I think they would spit on my love for them if they never were happy again after I died.”

Jane sobbed once more, and Elizabeth embraced her, but what Mr. Gardiner had said struck her as wise.

When Jane had calmed again, Elizabeth yawned, but before they went to bed, Mr. Gardiner said, “You will face some serious difficulties. There is no prospect of actual want—I mean a lack of food. You will never be required to work as a governess—neither of you will. But you will be poor enough that such employment will be seriously worth consideration, and a great many of the comforts of life, and nearly all the luxuries that you enjoy in your present situation, will be lost.”

“That does not sound so bad, when put in that way,” Elizabeth replied.

“No.” Jane sniffled. “See, we have nothing to be unhappy about—none of us. Do forget about that notion of marrying Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth then went up to bed, sharing Jane’s room so that Charlotte could have the last spare bedroom. They spoke little but they clung to each other.

Jane fell asleep faster than Elizabeth, and Elizabeth’s mind twisted and spun, thinking about her papa, thinking about the stories she had told Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam about her father’s life, and how she had loved him so much.

And Elizabeth thought about how while she and Jane might happily face a life of poverty, her mother could not be happy in such a state.

Chapter Five

It was early the next morning when Mr. Darcy arrived again at Gracechurch Street.

He had spent the night contemplating Elizabeth and her many perfections.

Though he grieved for her, she had turned towards him for support, she had trusted him to care for her, and he had succeeded in comforting her.