Chapter 8

Elizabeth was exhausted, and hoped very much that a day like this would not be repeated tomorrow. But she had given Mr. Collins the civility Papa had demanded, and her head was aching with the effort of trying to be certain that such civility did not mean that she was even remotely considering his offer.

But the majority of her thoughts were taken up with Mr. Darcy. How could her dislike of him have eased so quickly? She could not imagine it was weakness for a wealthy man; her integrity must be greater than that.

She firmed her jaw. No, she would not allow herself to soften her dislike. But he had not maligned Mr. Wickham, as that man had done of him. No, he was waiting until he could put evidence before her and allow her to draw her own conclusions and she must admit it had been gentlemanly of him to do so.

And while he was exceedingly handsome in general, when he had smiled at her, he had seemed extraordinarily beautiful.

She huffed angrily under her breath. He may have apologised, but he was still guilty of that insult to her own looks.

“Lizzy, you seem unhappy with your thoughts.” Jane’s murmur was quiet enough not to be overheard in the dining room as Kitty and Lydia argued over the officers. “Perhaps we should go upstairs after dinner and you can tell me what has concerned you so?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’d like that.” She glanced at the clock. Another half-an-hour, at least. Then she saw Papa was looking at her with some concern in his gaze, and she straightened and calmed her expression. She must concentrate on the conversation and defer thinking until later.

But she was not going to escape the questions. At the end of the meal, Papa put his napkin down. “Elizabeth, my dear, I would speak with you in my library for a few moments, if you please.”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet!” Mama’s displeasure was instant. “Mr. Collins was going to explain to Lizzy about what his parishioners at Hunsford need from the vicar’s wife.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Collins. That will have to wait until tomorrow. I wish to speak to my daughter.”

Elizabeth thought that if she could not go upstairs with Jane, then Papa was definitely a better alternative than Mr. Collins.

She followed her father out of the room. He settled her into the comfortable chair in his bookroom, stoked the fire and called for coffee for himself and tea for her. Then he opened his special tin of chocolates for her to choose one.

She looked at him suspiciously. “What are you going to ask of me, Papa?” She did take a chocolate, though. They were a rare treat.

“I thought you looked tired and rather out of sorts, little Lizzy, and I wanted you to be able to tell me about things and rail against your lot in life.” He arched an eyebrow at her, and despite herself, she huffed a laugh.

“I won’t forget it’s all your fault, Papa, this lot in life you have imposed on me.”

“I know that. And I do not regret it, although I am sorry it is necessary. Do you think you are beginning to understand why I thought to do this?”

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. “I do see it, Papa. I am ashamed I needed such a lesson.”

So what have you learned about your two beaus today?” Papa sat back, his coffee cup cradled in his hand.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you said to Mr. Collins, but when he said to me that he wanted me to know why I would be happy to be his wife, he said,

‘… the wife of Mr. Collins must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine …’ Elizabeth rolled her eyes as Papa chuckled.

“I wonder how long he took to think of that little gem?” His voice was light, and she shrugged.

“I am beginning to think a little less scornfully of him, as you wished me to. He is still a thoughtless, bumbling fool, and I will never marry him, but I concede to you that he is, probably, a kindly man in general, and the right wife might help him to show more understanding of the feelings of others.”

“And Mr. Darcy?”

She smiled slightly, before she thought it might have been a foolish thing to do. “Well, he took the opportunity to apologise to me for the insult at the assembly, and he seemed sincere,” she said slowly. She shook her head. “I accepted his apology, as I am supposed to, but it will be harder to forgive the reminder that I am not beautiful, as Mama rubs it in daily.”

Papa closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, but he seemed to be waiting for her to continue, so she sighed.

“He also took pains to tell me that he thought Mr. Bingley will return to Netherfield; that he had written to him.” She frowned. “Oh yes, he said he had sent for evidence of Mr. Wickham’s so-called misdeeds so I could make my own judgement on the matter.”

“Were you impressed with that?” Papa’s eyes were still closed.

“I suppose so. It speaks well of him that he will not say a word about him until he has the evidence.” She hesitated. “I wonder now that Mr. Wickham told me so much of his story when we were but very new acquaintances.”

Papa opened his eyes. “It seems to be a tale designed to garner your sympathy and good opinion. What might an impecunious officer want of a young lady?”

“Papa!” Elizabeth knew she was blushing furiously.

“It needs to be thought of, my dear. But we digress. What else did you find out about Mr. Darcy?”

She made a face. “He told me he had enjoyed our … debates, he called them, when I was at Netherfield. I said I thought they were arguments. Then he said he would like the equivalent cannonball if I agreed to play a game of chess with him.” She shrugged slightly. “He doesn’t seem averse to losing, and that is all I know of the man.”

Her father’s gaze was fixed on her. “Does it anger you that he is a handsome man, when he said you were merely tolerable?”

“Papa!” Elizabeth jumped to her feet. She did not want to think of it, not when she was so near tears of fatigue. “I beg leave to go upstairs. I do not wish to think of these things any more!”