Chapter 9

T he journey back to Longbourn was fraught with tension and silence. Elizabeth, nestled against the carriage's cushioned seat, gazed into the darkness, her mind awhirl with thoughts. The rain had ceased, leaving a damp chill in the air that seeped through the carriage windows. Her mother sat beside her, occasionally muttering about the evening's events and the implications for the Bennet family's reputation. Mr. Bennet, seated across from them, wore a contemplative expression, his eyes occasionally flicking towards Elizabeth with concern. Mr. Collins simply stared out the window, not saying a word throughout the journey. Lieutenant Denny rode with the coachman.

As they approached Longbourn, Elizabeth's heart sank. She dreaded the questions, the gossip, and the uncertainty that lay ahead. The carriage came to a halt, and the family disembarked, entering the house with a sense of foreboding. The atmosphere was heavy with tension. Elizabeth, her mind a tumult of conflicting emotions, spoke little. Mr. Bennet immediately retreated to his library, locking the door behind him, while Mrs. Bennet sought solace in her room, complaining about her poor nerves. Mr. Collins excused himself to his chamber, citing urgent business that demanded his attention. The coachman departed to return Lieutenant Denny to Lucas Lodge, from where he was to bring back the Bennet sisters.

Elizabeth battled with her rising anger, pacing the hallway, her thoughts in disarray. Time seemed to stretch interminably as she struggled to compose herself. The house was unnervingly quiet, save for the distant murmur of her mother's lamentations.

After about two hours, the carriage returned, carrying her sisters. Jane rushed to Elizabeth the moment she entered.

"Elizabeth, what has happened?" she inquired, her countenance marked by concern. "We heard there was an accident. Are you hurt?"

Elizabeth, still seething, took a deep breath. "The carriage overturned, and I strained my leg. However, Mr. Darcy found me and offered assistance. That is all."

Her sharp tone caught Jane unawares, causing her to step back. It wasn't unlike Elizabeth to speak her mind so plainly without mincing words, but speaking with such a rude tone to Jane was something her elder sister was unaccustomed to hearing from her.

Mr. Collins, overhearing the arrival of the other sisters, emerged from his room with a self-satisfied air. At Lydia's prompt asking what was making Elizabeth angry, he said, "Ah, my dear cousins, it is fortunate that I am here to enlighten you about the distressing events of the evening. I must say, the scene was most alarming. We found poor Elizabeth in a most compromising position, her shift exposed, and her skirts in disarray. Mr. Darcy's arm was around her, and one could not help but assume the worst. It was indeed a sight that could ruin the reputation of any young lady!"

"Mr. Collins, that is quite enough. There is no need for such exaggeration. Elizabeth was injured, and Mr. Darcy merely offered his assistance. We were only mistaken when we arrived," Mr. Bennet said, stepping out of his study.

"And why is Mr. Darcy helping Elizabeth making her so annoyed, Papa?" Kitty asked.

Mr. Bennet ran a hand through his black hair. "Because, Kitty, Lizzy now has to marry Mr. Darcy. We cannot afford a scandal. We weren't the only ones who saw the... compromising position we found them in. Soon, it may become the talk of Meryton, and it will take a confirmation of a proposal between both parties involved to ensure that Lizzy's honour isn't questioned, and that of you, her sisters, isn't ruined."

"Papa—" Lizzy began to protest again, while her sisters' mouths fell agape as they gasped at the news. At this moment, Mrs. Bennet chose to make her entrance, blowing her nose before saying, "Elizabeth, you have no choice. If you refuse Mr. Darcy, you will ruin not only your own prospects but also those of your sisters. Think of Jane, who has captured the attention of Mr. Bingley. A scandal would destroy her chances, as well as yours and your sisters'. Though I am sorry you must end up with such a proud man who thinks himself above everyone, you are still fortunate. Mr. Darcy has a fortune of ten thousand a year, which is far better than facing a scandal that could leave you with no prospects at all."

Jane looked at Elizabeth with sympathetic eyes. "Lizzy, I am so sorry." She turned and faced her father. "But must it come to this? Is there no other way?"

"None that I know of, and Mr. Darcy has agreed to do what is honourable," Mr. Bennet whispered under his breath.

Mary inched closer to Elizabeth, patting her slightly on the back. "Elizabeth, consider the greater good of the family. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the benefit of all."

"Mr. Darcy is handsome and rich. It could be worse, Lizzy!" Kitty and Lydia chimed in together, less serious in their remarks.

Elizabeth's frustration boiled over. "You speak as if I have no say in my own life! How can you expect me to marry a man I do not love, a man who has insulted our family and believes himself superior to us?"

Before she could speak any further Mr. Bennet said, "Elizabeth, come into my study. We need to talk."

Silence fell upon the room as Elizabeth slowly followed her father into his library, her heart heavy with dread and defiance. It was only after the door of the study closed that the others began to murmur again.

****

The night had deepened by the time Darcy returned to Netherfield. The rain was long ceased, leaving the air crisp and cool, but the storm within him had yet to abate. As he dismounted the borrowed horse which Bingley's stable hand quickly appeared to take.

"See that he is well cared for," Darcy instructed, his voice steady, though his mind was anything but.

The servant nodded and led the horse away, while Darcy, his steps measured and deliberate, made his way into the house. The warmth of the interior greeted him, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest.

As he approached the drawing room, he could hear the murmur of voices—Bingley and his sisters were clearly waiting for him. Darcy took a deep breath before entering, preparing himself for the inevitable inquiries.

The door opened, and the room fell silent as Darcy stepped inside. Bingley rose immediately, his face a mix of relief and concern. "Darcy! We were beginning to wonder what had happened. Sir William mentioned you had left the assembly on a borrowed horse. Is everything all right?"

Miss Bingley, who had been seated with a book she was barely pretending to read, looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing as she took in Darcy's appearance. "Yes, do tell us, Mr. Darcy. You left so abruptly; we were all quite concerned."

"There was a matter that required my attention." Darcy gave a brief nod, his expression unreadable.

Bingley pressed on gently. "I hope it was nothing too distressing. You must allow yourself to enjoy the calmness of this town, Darcy. There's a certain charm to Meryton that one doesn't find in London."

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy was feeling remorseful about the way he spoke to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It did seem to trouble you greatly, did it not?" Miss Bingley added with a thin smile.

Mrs. Hurst, who had been listening with a look of idle curiosity, let out a light laugh. "Oh, Charles, you know how sensitive these country girls can be. It's hardly worth troubling over, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy's gaze flickered over to her, his face remaining stoic. "My departure had nothing to do with any such concerns, Mrs. Hurst."

"It is quite ironic, though. No one seemed eager to dance with Miss Elizabeth before your conversation. It would appear that even the gentlemen of Meryton find her lacking. You were merely being honest, Mr. Darcy. There is no need to feel burdened by her inability to accept the truth." Miss Bingley, undeterred, continued.

Darcy, his patience worn thin by the evening's events, shook his head firmly. "You are mistaken, Caroline. In fact, I intend to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

The silence that followed was so absolute that even the sound of a feather falling would have seemed deafening. Miss Bingley's face lost all colour as she stared at Darcy in utter disbelief, while Mrs. Hurst's fan froze mid-flutter, her eyes widening.

"Marry her?" Miss Bingley finally managed to stammer, her voice shaking. "Mr. Darcy, you cannot be serious!"

Darcy's gaze remained steady; his tone resolute. "I am entirely serious."

"But... Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Hurst began, her voice tinged with incredulity, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet is... they are... not of our standing. This is... unimaginable."

"Indeed," Miss Bingley echoed, her desperation growing. "Elizabeth Bennet is beneath you. Surely, you cannot intend to align yourself with such a family. Think of your reputation, your connections—"

Darcy's expression hardened. "I am fully aware of the implications, Caroline. But my decision is made."

Bingley, though visibly taken aback, managed to regain his composure, a faint smile appearing on his face, "Darcy, this is quite unexpected, but if this is truly your decision, then I can only wish you the best. I must admit, though, I am curious—what has led to this sudden change of heart?"

Darcy's eyes darkened as he considered how much to reveal. "There are circumstances that necessitate this course of action. That is all I can say at present."

Miss Bingley, grasping at the last shreds of hope, ventured, "We heard about the accident, Mr. Darcy. We were still at the assembly when the coachman came for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Please, do not let it weigh on your conscience—it was not your fault. Surely, it is not reason enough to make such a hasty decision to marry her."

Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone becoming more resolute. "Caroline, I assure you; my decision is not made out of guilt or haste. Miss Bennet is a woman of remarkable character, and I find that the more I have considered the situation, the more I believe this is the right course of action. It is not for you, or anyone else, to question my resolve."

Miss Bingley's mouth opened as if to protest further, but the firmness in Darcy's voice silenced her. Mrs. Hurst looked from her sister to Darcy, clearly at a loss for words, while Bingley observed the scene with growing concern and curiosity.

"Now, if you will all excuse me," Darcy continued, his tone brooking no argument, "I must retire for the night."

Without another word, Darcy turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the Bingley sisters in a state of stunned silence. Miss Bingley's complexion paled, and she exchanged a look with her sister that spoke volumes of their mutual disbelief. Bingley, though deeply surprised, remained thoughtful, his gaze lingering on the door through which Darcy had just exited.

****

Mr. Bennet led Elizabeth into his study, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. He gestured for her to sit, then took his place behind the large wooden desk that dominated the room. The fire from a candlelight hissed softly, casting flickering shadows across the shelves of well-worn books. He reached for a small kettle on the side table, pouring tea into two cups with deliberate care.

"Here, Lizzy," he said, offering her a cup. "Tea might help to settle your nerves."

Elizabeth accepted the cup with a murmur of thanks, though she found little comfort in the warm liquid. She felt her father's gaze upon her as he settled back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Shall I call for the doctor to attend to your leg?" Mr. Bennet inquired.

Elizabeth shook her head gently. "No, Papa, I believe I shall be well by the morrow with the application of some ointment. It is merely a sprain, nothing appears to be broken."

"I want you to know," Mr. Bennet began, "that I believe you, Lizzy. I do not for a moment think you compromised yourself in any way. I trust your judgment, and I know you to be a young woman of sense and propriety."

Elizabeth looked up, some colour returning to her face, but her father held up a hand to forestall any response.

"However," he continued, his tone grave, "you must understand that there were other eyes upon you tonight. People who witnessed the scene, people who—being what they are—will soon have rumours swirling around Meryton. And these rumours, my dear, can do untold harm to the prospects of your sisters and yourself."

Elizabeth's heart sank, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Bennet gently cut her off.

"I only supported the idea of a forced marriage because I must consider the future of this family," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "Now that Mr. Bingley seems to be showing interest in Jane, and you have already rejected whatever it was Mr. Collins would have offered, our options are limited. Your other sisters, it seems, are not inclined to consider Mr. Collins either, and should Longbourn fall into his hands, as it is likely to do, what then? It is important, Lizzy, that we secure good marriages for you and your sisters. A scandal would ruin any hope of that, which is why I find myself supporting this marriage, much as it pains me."

Elizabeth tightened her grip on the teacup, her mind racing with thoughts of protest, but before she could speak, Mr. Bennet leaned forward, his expression softening.

"Tell me, Lizzy," he said, "why do you hate Mr. Darcy so much?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath, setting the teacup down with trembling hands. "He is the most disagreeable man I have ever met," she said, her voice low but firm. "He is proud and haughty, and he spoke down to me at the assembly, as though I were beneath him."

Mr. Bennet listened quietly, nodding as she spoke. "Perhaps," he said gently, "you have been too hasty in your judgment, my dear. Everyone at that party was speaking ill of the gentleman, and it may have affected his mood. Have you considered that?"

Elizabeth hesitated, her mind flashing back to the assembly, the whispers, the sideways glances. "But there is more," she said, her voice quivering. "Mr. Wickham told me of how Mr. Darcy wronged him, how he deprived him of his rightful inheritance. How can I marry a man who could do such a thing?"

Mr. Bennet sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache. "Lizzy, have you considered Mr. Wickham's motives for revealing such things to you? A young woman, with no prior connection to Mr. Darcy—why would he share such a tale with you? Could there not be another side to this story? You must be cautious in whom you place your trust."

Elizabeth frowned, her thoughts conflicted. "But Mr. Wickham was so... sincere."

"Ah, but sincerity can be a mask, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet replied, his tone thoughtful. "Do you see now why I warned you and your sisters to keep your distance from the militia? They are not always what they seem. When I rode with Mr. Darcy to Netherfield, I saw a gentleman who may not be quick to make acquaintances, but one who is respectful and carries himself with dignity. I find it hard to believe that Mr. Bingley, a man of such amiable character, would count Mr. Darcy as a friend if he were not, at heart, a good man."

Elizabeth bit her lip, her mind reeling. "But Papa, how can I marry a man I do not love? A man who insulted our family and believes himself superior to us?"

Mr. Bennet reached across the desk, taking her hand in his. "Lizzy, sometimes we must make sacrifices for the sake of those we love. I have always wanted you to marry a man you loved, but life, my dear, has its own plans. Marrying Mr. Darcy may be a sacrifice you must make for the good of our family, for your mother's future, and your own. I wish there were another way, but this is the reality we face."

Elizabeth felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, unwilling to let her father see her cry.

Mr. Bennet rose and walked around the desk, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Go to bed now, Lizzy," he murmured. "Perhaps you will feel better in the morning."

Elizabeth nodded, her heart heavy with a sense of inevitability. She left the room, the tears finally spilling over as she made her way to her bedchamber. She stifled the sobs that pushed at her throat, determined that no one would hear her cry.