We Have Mary King to Thank – Part 8, by Jack Caldwell

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

So, we had a surprise visitor last time. How about another one? Much information is revealed. Enjoy! Thanks goes to my lovely Beta Babe, Debbie!

Part 7 may be found HERE.

Back to our story:

Part 8

FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS, Mr. Bingley proved a faithful visitor to Gracechurch Street. His company was so pleasant and his attentions to Jane so constant, it earned him an invitation to dinner. This he accepted with alacrity, and informed Mrs. Gardiner that the rest of his family would not be attending with regret.

“Caroline and the Hursts are on their way north to visit with Mr. Hurst’s family at their estate.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” said Jane sincerely, “but this is very sudden, is it not?”

Elizabeth swore Bingley hid a smile. “Yes—very sudden. But business kept me in town, so I am available to join you.” Given his loving gaze at Jane, no one pretended not to know the nature of his business. Elizabeth was happy Maria did not ruin everything and remark about it aloud.

Just before Mr. Bingley left to dress for dinner, he found a moment to speak to Elizabeth. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. I am late in reporting that my friend sends his warmest regards.”

For some reason, her throat grew tight. “Will he be joining you, sir?”

Bingley frowned. “I hoped he would, as I have business with him. But Darcy says matters in Kent are such he finds himself unable to leave.” He then gave Elizabeth a knowing look. “He must be in earnest to refuse such lovely inducements as are in town.”

Elizabeth blushed, and tried to turn the conversation. “Miss Darcy—have you seen her?”

“Of course not. Oh! You must not give credence to idle gossip. Miss Darcy is the sister of my friend—nothing more.”

Later, Elizabeth and Jane were in their chambers, preparing for the evening. Elizabeth overjoyed to see her sister happier than ever. There was a knock on the door.

“Already?” cried Jane.

“Perhaps Mr. Bingley could not stay away, dearest,” Elizabeth teased as she moved to the door.

“Lizzy,” said her aunt, “your father is here and desires to see you in the study.”

Elizabeth and Jane were stunned. “Papa is here? Why? Is it Mama—is she unwell?”

“No—he says all is well at Longbourn. But he is troubled. Come quickly! Jane, I will remain and attend you. He wishes to speak to Lizzy.”

Moments later, Elizabeth slipped into her uncle’s study to find Mr. Bennet standing at the window, sipping a glass of brandy.

“Close the door behind you, Lizzy.” His voice was weary.

“Papa, what is wrong?”

“Sit down, and tell me what is the manner of your relationship with Mr. Darcy.”

Mr. Darcy, again! “Papa, I do not understand. He is an acquaintance, nothing more.”

Mr. Bennet set down his glass. “Pray do not dissemble. I expect such behavior from Lydia or Kitty, not you. Are you out of your senses to be encouraging this man? Have you not always hated him?”

“Papa, what is the basis of this?”

Mr. Bennet pulled a letter from his coat. “I have received by express a letter that has astonished me exceedingly. As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents. Here, read what Mr. Darcy relates.”

Trembling, Elizabeth took a seat. Sure enough, it was in Mr. Darcy’s fine, close hand.

Mr. Bennet,

I pray you pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention by this letter, given our slight acquaintance. That is a fault on my part. Indeed, I have made more than one mistake in Hertfordshire, but that is not the subject of this missive.

Each Easter-time, I journey to Kent to visit with my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. This year, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in Hunsford with her friend, Mrs. Collins. Mr. Collins, as you are aware, is rector of the parish that includes Rosings. I was happy to renew my acquaintance with Miss Bennet. Given that she and I both enjoy a morning’s constitutional before breakfast, it was probable that we would often meet on our walks. I should stress that at all times, Miss Bennet was the soul of proper, ladylike comportment. She deserves no censure over the events of the last two days.

My aunt is a lady of strong opinions and is not given to accept correction. She had learned of our walks and erroneously concocted a most disgusting assumption as to the purpose of those innocent coincidences. Two nights ago, propelled by rumor and innuendo, Lady Catherine accosted Miss Bennet in Mr. Collins’ parlor, abusing her in an unforgivable manner. I learned her intentions and hurried to the parsonage in the company of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but we arrived too late to stop her haranguing and insults. I am ashamed to report that the colonel and I were forced to physically remove my aunt from the parsonage.

I regret giving you pain, but I must report Mr. Collins made no effort to defend your daughter and, in fact, was prepared to dismiss her from his house. Therefore, I placed Miss Bennet under my protection and, by her desire, sent her to her relations in London. Miss Lucas decided to join her.

This, sir, is a faithful narrative to the late business in Hunsford that Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas were forced to endure. No blame may be placed on those two young ladies. Indeed, they met the onslaught with grace and fortitude, especially Miss Bennet. If fault remains after the condemnation of Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins, it should fall to me. I knew the character of my aunt and should have anticipated her disapproval of my friendship with Miss Bennet. My aunt has long desired that I marry her daughter and has falsely declared we are engaged. This is not the case, but she will not hear otherwise. The attack on Miss Bennet’s character was not personal, for Lady Catherine would disparage any young lady she considered a threat to her wishes.

I send you my deepest apologies for the event described above, for you will receive no such message from Rosings.

One additional matter I must raise. There is a gentleman in the —shire Militia, a Mr. George Wickham. Prudence calls upon me to warn you that his character is uniformly bad. He is the son of the late steward at Pemberley, my estate, and I have known him all my life. He has become a gamester and scoundrel. Surely you have been told I withheld his inheritance of a valuable living, but what he fails to reveal is that he accepted a pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment, and at his request. Since then, he has lived a life of idleness and dissipation. I shall not insult your eyes by putting to paper his vicious propensities and want of principle. I only beg you to protect your daughters from him.

What I relate above is easily proved. You will find his debts all over Meryton, and I should expect they will be an amount his army pay cannot possibly discharge. Thus it has always been, both in Derbyshire and at Cambridge.

I have learned that he has set his sights on a young heiress in Meryton, a Miss Mary King, a friend of your daughter. I urge you, if you care the least bit for her happiness, to do what you can to protect her or, failing that, write me urgently with direction to her family.

Your obt. servant,

FITZWILLIAM DARCY

As she read, Elizabeth’s respect for Mr. Darcy grew. He went through considerable effort to convey what had happened and justify his actions, all the while shielding her from blame or infamy. That he would so labor to protect the shrew that not a day before destroyed all his hopes! What sort of gentleman does this?

“Well, Elizabeth?” inquired Mr. Bennet impatiently. “Is what Mr. Darcy writes true?”

“Yes, sir.” As far as it goes.

Mr. Bennet crossed his arms. “And yet, you say you do not like him, or he you.”

Elizabeth could not look at her father for the world. “Papa, while Mr. Darcy’s behavior in Hertfordshire could be considered rude and overbearing, I must admit he improves upon acquaintance. Knowing him better made me like him better. He is an honorable gentleman who, in my time of need, proved to be a friend and a very good sort of man.”

“Come, come. We all know him to be proud and disagreeable. Have you been taken in by his wealth and standing in the world? I warn you, my girl, he is far above you.”

“Papa, I tell you there is nothing between us.”

“I was not born with white hair. You would have me believe Mr. Darcy writes such a novel to the father of every young lady he meets? Nonsense! He all but demands I forbid Mr. Wickham from calling at Longbourn! The cheek of the man! He implies you know of his opinion of Mr. Wickham. How does this occur between mere acquaintances? And this matter of Miss King? You are practically strangers.”

At this, Elizabeth started. “Miss King! Have you done anything for her?”

Mr. Bennet sat back, his usual insolence returning. “There is one embarrassing task I can avoid! Miss King is safe. She is gone down to her uncle in Liverpool. There is no engagement.”

“Thank heavens for that!”

Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow. “You believe Mr. Darcy to be truthful?”

“I do, Papa.”

“I own myself mystified. Before traveling to Kent, you considered Mr. Darcy the cruelest, most disagreeable man in England. Everyone within ten miles knew of your pointed dislike and his perfect indifference. Now, it appears he has declared himself your champion and you retract every saucy word uttered against him.” He sat forward, staring intently at his favorite. “I must insist you explain yourself.”

She longed to tell someone everything. If she could not trust her own father, then who? “Papa, what I am about to relate must be kept between us. There are innocent people involved.”

Mr. Bennet grew grim, for he saw Elizabeth was in earnest. “Very well, Lizzy.”

Once she began, everything poured out: Mr. Darcy’s initial affront, their confusing interactions at Netherfield, the painful dance at Mr. Bingley’s ball, Mr. Darcy’s appearances during her walks in the groves of Rosings, his insulting proposal at the parsonage, and his explanation the next day. She spoke of his pride and humility, his reserve and heroism, his firmness and generosity. She revealed all, including Miss Darcy’s near elopement with Wickham, Mr. Darcy separating Mr. Bingley from Jane only to encourage them, Lady Catherine’s madness, and Mr. Collins’s treachery. Lastly, she confessed her swirling emotions regarding the gentleman at the center of all this.

Mr. Bennet listened quietly to Elizabeth’s account, displaying no emotion save the paling of his face at Mr. Wickham’s intentions for Miss Darcy. When Elizabeth was done, he rubbed his brow while she sat, drained. He then started to chuckle.

“Papa?” Elizabeth was incredulous.

“What a farce!” he exclaimed. “It is worthy of the Bard himself! Mr. Darcy is the villain of the piece, until he is not! By his reserve and misplaced honor, he gives offense wherever he goes, including to the lady he loves. He then labors to repair all the damage, and we know why, but the lady involved claims ignorance.” He laughed out loud. “We only have to wait until the inevitable denouement. I have not been so entertained in years!”

“Papa, this is not funny!”

He waved off her complaint. “Oh, come now. You are not going to be missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted by all this. I did not know before that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.”

Elizabeth blushed, but held firm. “Papa, there is no reason to believe that Mr. Darcy will renew his proposals.” She looked down. “He cannot—not after what I said to him.”

“My dear, his actions speak otherwise. Should he disappoint me, I shall dismiss him as a very unworthy fellow.” He then grew serious. “But perhaps, it is your feelings and not Mr. Darcy’s that are of the moment here. We all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man, but this would be nothing if you really liked him. My dear girl, if you do not, if you cannot respect him, you should not accept him. I know your disposition—I know that you could be neither happy nor respectable unless you truly esteemed your husband, unless you looked up to him as a superior. Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger in an unequal marriage. You could scarcely escape discredit and misery.” Pained, he concluded, “My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life.”

“I do respect him,” she declared, “I do. But I cannot believe my foolish behavior can be forgot. He will not ask again.”

“Would you accept him if he did?”

She shook her head firmly, refusing to answer the question. “He will not, that is certain. I cannot speculate over what will never happen.”

Mr. Bennet again sat back. “We shall see, my headstrong little Lizzy. Well, I think it time we all returned home. Pray tell Jane and Miss Lucas we shall travel to Longbourn tomorrow.”

~~~

At dinner that evening, Mr. Bingley received the news of the Bennets removal to Hertfordshire the next morning with good humor, for he announced he was returning to Netherfield as soon as it could be readied. Jane’s unhappiness vanished at his declaration, for it was obvious he would return to Netherfield for her. Elizabeth knew Jane could not dismiss Mr. Bingley’s interest and intentions now, and her contentment would only be complete if Mr. Darcy would join his friend. How else could she apologize to him?

Apparently, Mr. Bennet had a similar thought, and he inquired if the gentleman from Derbyshire would visit Netherfield.

“He is always welcome, to be sure,” Bingley said as he glanced at Elizabeth, “but I do not know his plans or how much longer he remains in Kent.”

“He would be very welcome in Hertfordshire,” said Jane. “Do your sisters come?”

“I am afraid not. They are quite settled in the North at the Hurst family estate.” Bingley smirked as he responded to Jane, and Elizabeth rejoiced at the sight. It now seemed Mr. Bingley knew his own mind, and Miss Bingley had no power to mar Jane’s happiness any longer.

Not the visitor you wanted, eh? At least you know what was in the expresses. Oh well, that’s the way things go.

And speaking the way things go, we’re taking a one-week break from posting. The bad news is you’re going to have to wait until October 6 for the next installment. The good news is that it’s the penultimate chapter!

BTW, comments would be appreciated. Just sayin’.

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…