Page 60 of A Prudent Engagement

Should you choose to join us at Lucas Lodge, I can promise that you will be made most welcome (and given the incalculable pleasure of hearing once more the tale of Sir William’s presentation to the king). If you wish to avoid that, might I advise a retreat to the library, where you may admire at length those rare tomes from my father’s collection which so impressed you.

Do remain at Longbourn if you wish and enjoy a little respite from the delights provided by my company. Charlotte’s carriage leaves at noon, and I shall return immediately with great eagerness for our planned walk out to Oakham Mount.

Before Darcy set off to Lucas Lodge—Sir William was not nearly so long-winded as Elizabeth was delightful—he was approached by Miss Bennet.

Jane.

Darcy should start to think about Elizabeth’s sisters by their Christian names. Jane begged with a serious expression to have a few minutes to speak to him.

Darcy greatly feared that the young woman meant to ask him to intercede with Bingley. He had heard in the time that he had been in Meryton a great many references to how his friend had been expected to marry Miss Bennet, and that Bingley was generally seen as having (almost) jilted her.

It seemed that there was a tendency to think ill of him on that account, which Darcy considered as not being wholly unfair to his friend. Bingley should have been more cautious about raising expectations. But it was also Darcy’s view that no man should find himself trapped in a marriage to a woman of inferior circumstances who did not have any great affection for him.

The seriousness with which Miss Bennet stood about in the drawing room, after bringing Darcy into it to speak, did little to assuage his anxiety on that point. She had her hands pressed together, wore a tight expression, and her foot nervously tapped.

Darcy had nearly decided to bring Mr. Bingley’s name into the conversation himself. He should tell her clearly that he would do nothing to forward their relationship as he knew that she did not have any proper feeling for his friend. He was sure that her continued designs on Bingley were more a product of vanity than anything else—it must hurt a young woman who was universally acknowledged as a great beauty to have lost the most eligible bachelor to visit the area since she had entered womanhood.

However, as Darcy opened his mouth to say something along these lines, Miss Bennet at last spoke, looking at him intently. “Mr. Darcy, my conscience demands I speak. This will pain you, but it is better, I think, for a man to receive a sharp wound of this sort than to suffer from a far more enduring injury.”

She paused, seeming to gather herself up. She wrung her hands together.

Darcy could confess himself now interested in what she had to say after such a beginning, though he had no notion of what might follow.

At last Jane pressed her fingers together so tightly that the tips turned white. “My sister does not love you. Rather she dislikes you. Elizabeth accepted your offer of marriage chiefly from pecuniary motives—the shock of my father’s death and fear of Mama’s unhappiness made her accept a proposal that she should have refused and would have refused in more ordinary times. I see that you are surprised. But this is the truth, and I wish you to know, though it hurts to hear, because it will inevitably lead to unhappiness for all involved—that of my sister as well as you—if the connection betwixt you is sanctified in an irreversible manner by religion and law. Elizabeth would never be happy with you—I heard her often complain about your frustrating manners and critical eye, especially when we were all in close company at Netherfield. I have enquired directly of her, and she will not tell me that she is in love with you at present or explain on what basis her sentiments have changed such that she is willing to marry you. I do see that this causes you pain to hear, but I assure you, I speak in earnest.”

“What do you mean to say? That your sister does not like me?” Darcy said. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Mr. Darcy, from the very first night you were in our company, she took a decided dislike to you. It was on account of her thinking that she had been insulted at the assembly where we all met. She has been outspoken in her dislike of you, and when Mr. Wickham entered the neighbourhood, she was the first to promote his side against you. The way she wrote about you in her letters from Kent shows that as recently as two days before my father’s death there had certainly been no change in her opinions about your character, and she was eagerly looking forward to when you would leave Rosings Park.”

“I shall certainly not,” Darcy replied in a frozen manner, “read her correspondence without her leave.”

“I wish I could have informed you in a manner that would cause less pain, but Elizabeth has refused to listen to reason, and no matter how I beg her, she insists that she will not end the engagement on her own account.”

Elizabeth had looked forward to when he would leave Rosings?

That made no sense.

Darcy shook his head. He frowned. “Do you mean to say that anxiety about her material circumstances, and an awareness of my excellent estate, influenced Elizabeth to look more favourably upon me? That is natural and just. I had looked more severely upon her charms due to an awareness of the deficiency of her estate. It would be hypocritical were I to judge her for considering the same.”

“Mr. Darcy, she will not be happy,” Miss Bennet sobbed out, her composure disappearing. “And neither will you. You will be like my mama and papa and despise each other and never be content. She never liked you at all, nor accepted you for any reason but the need for relief from present anxieties and fear of poverty. Do not do this to yourself and my sister. I beg you to understand. You should not marry her.”

“Not marry her?” Darcy echoed back. He rose from his armchair and walked to the window.

Elizabeth could not dislike him. It made no sense. She looked at him in such a way. She turned to him for comfort. She let him kiss her.

She had kissed him of her own volition.

“You say she took Wickham’s part?” Darcy turned away from the window and back towards Miss Bennet. “Do you think she loves him?”

“I am not speaking of Mr. Wickham.”

“No, but speak of him—do.”

“I never believed what Mr. Wickham said about you,” Miss Bennet replied. “I have always been sure that there was a sad misunderstanding betwixt the two of you, and that if only you both understood everything you would reconcile.”

Darcy snorted. “But Elizabeth did believe him.”

Except, even if she had, Darcy knew that she did not any longer. At least not unless she was lying.