A Father's Resolution
Posted on December 22, 2008
He had failed his daughter's miserably from the beginning. He had chosen a silly, albeit beautiful, wife. He had failed to curb her miserable manners, nor had he enlivened her intelligence. He had not saved for the girls' future in any fashion. He had allowed his youngest daughters to grow up idle and vain. His middle child was nothing less than a prig in the making, like his heir, Mr. Collins. Only Jane and Elizabeth were worth anything to him, and here, by neglect of his duty, here he had failed most egregiously. There was nothing for it. He most save all he could before he died, and, while living, work to counteract the social damage as much as possible. None of his children would ever again risk the family in such a way. He would know their business, and know what they were about. He would start today.
It was fortunate for Mr. Bennet, that the day on which he resolved to make this sweeping reform, it was Elizabeth who received a letter in the post. For some reason, Mr. Bennet felt more at easy performing his new demanding parental role with this child he loved so much. Hill had told him the letter was from Mrs. Gardiner, and quite a thick letter it was. Well! There would be news, real news of the business of Lydia's, to be sure. He watched his daughter hurry into the little copse, where he presumed she meant to be avoided. He would give her a few minutes to peruse her letter in private, and then he would query her. How he hated to be seeming like his wife, always in the private business of others. But what was there for a man to do? How was he to stop his daughters in their foolish ways without invading their privacy?
Fifteen minutes later, after seeing his wife and Lydia leave in the carriage, Mr. Bennet walked towards the copse, where he found Lizzy re-reading a section of his sister's letter. Her face, while being quite pale, was also quite red in the cheek and she seemed to be in no little distress. Approaching her, he spoke, "Well Lizzy, what has my sister to say about this business? What new scandal and charge of libertinism shall I hear of my new son?"
Elizabeth looked up in surprise, but she would answer him, "I am shocked, truly shocked. To have known him so little. To have understood his character so poorly. I am embarrassed by my own conceit."
Her father, sitting next to her and taking her hand, said, "My dear, you are not at fault. We were all taken in by the fellow. You cannot blame yourself. Wickham is a hound, and, he is now your brother and my son, which I am sure will provide some amusement at some point in the future. Does she hint at how much your uncle lay down on this match?"
"He did not. Excuse me, sir. I must explain. It is not Mr. Wickham that I speak of. I have grossly underestimated another man. It is Mr. Darcy of whom I speak." Here she blushed still further.
"Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Bennet said in consternation, "What on earth has he to do with it?"
Elizabeth was now seriously uncomfortable, but finding the truth her only option, she relayed the pecuniary details behind Lydia's marriage. Her father was all astonishment.
"Why would Mr. Darcy do such a thing? What is his interest in the business?" Here he stopped, for on looking at his Lizzy's red face, a thought had entered his mind, "Lizzy, I hope you know what you are about. I assume there is more to this story than I know at present. Come now, girl, this is no time for concealment. We are now under considerable obligation, both to your Uncle Gardiner and, I presume, also Mr. Darcy. I will hear the whole story."
It made for a very uncomfortable relation. Elizabeth, shy of relating her own feelings which were supported by no formal attachment, was forced to disclose the depth of her knowledge of Mr. Darcy's actions and character. In the unfolding there was no way to leave out the exchange that had taken place in Kent, and each new revelation led Mr. Bennet to yet another question, which led to a new revelation. All of which nearly bewitched him till finally, he gave a shout,
"My god, your in love with him! Well, Lizzy, when I told you you could not be out done long by Jane, I had no idea how seriously you would take me! So, he's done this all to win you!"
Elizabeth, while pleased, denied it, "No, sir. He's is too much of a gentleman to put me under such an obligation. I was not to know, you see. I'm sure he could never be serious in his intentions towards me, not after paying to have my sister marry Wickham. Brother-in-law to Wickham! How could it be borne?" She finished off with tears that were mixed gratitude and sadness.
Her father looked thoughtful for a moment and then, patting her hand once more, said, " Well my dear, perhaps that is the best light to take it in for the time. I shall write to town and find out more particulars from my brother, perhaps there is still more to be learned. Meanwhile, we shall wait out the Wickhams' visit together, my dear. Shall we go in and have some tea? If we move quickly we may avoid Wickham. I see him walking this way."
They had their tea. Unfortunately Mr. Wickham had caught up to them and they were forced to have it together after all. The conversation was uninteresting enough and, shortly after the tea was poured, Elizabeth retired to her room with an headache and her letter. Mr. Bennet, leaving Wickham in the parlour, retired to his study to write a letter of his own to town.
Mr. Darcy's surprise on receiving a letter from Hertfordshire was made all the greater on acknowledging that it came from Longbourn. There was only one reason Mr. Bennet would be writing to him. All of his greatest fears in the business seemed to be coming to a head. He opened it with no little trepidation:
Dear Sir,I know you will understand my writing to you in this fashion, as you are a man of honor. I cannot go without thanking you for your actions in the marriage of my youngest daughter. She would have never been found, if not for your efforts, and would certainly have sunk deeper still after Wickham had thrown her off. While she may remain blissfully ignorant of the future she faced, I do not. I am very grateful, for all our sakes.
You may wonder how this came to my attention. My daughter and son-in-law are currently with us, prior to heading to the North in three days time. Lydia let something go in a conversation with my daughter, Elizabeth, that led that lady to further inquiries. I, you may be sure, have felt it necessary to know more about my children's comings and goings and, coming upon Lizzy with her aunt's letter, demanded some answers. My dutiful child obliged, with such a story that the neighborhood would scarcely believe. (It is also a story they shall never hear from my family, you may rest assured.) She may have said that you were "the best man" she had ever known. As a father, I shall try to overlook that. Elizabeth's eloquence on the subject of your goodness confirmed my opinion to write and offer my thanks.
Also, the hunting is remarkably good this year in Hertfordshire. I'm sure Mr. Bingley's birds are going to a sad waste. If you are planning a visit into the neighborhood, I would happily visit you so that we may discuss the details of my repayment, which we WILL discuss. I shall understand if you are not able to pay us a visit for the hunting, but shall still expect to here from you, by letter, about this other business.
Yours, etcetera.
"Mr. Bingley, sir."
"Send him in at once."
"Darcy, how are you?"
"Well enough, Charles." Darcy sat with his feet on his desk, tapping a letter in his hands, with a countenance the likes of which Mr. Bingley had never seen on his friend's face. He swung his feet down off the desk and, in and voice that spoke a thousand things at once, said, "Charles, how would you feel about a little hunting?"
The End.