Page 107 of Her Whole Heart
“Unfair!” Mr. Darcy cried teasingly. “You are changing the terms of the debate because you are losing.”
Elizabeth laughed. “AmI losing, Mr. Darcy?” she inquired. “Perhaps I was about to argue that once having passed an act, the prevailing government must remain vigilant in its oversight of a regent’s limitations as set out in law.”
“Very well,” Mr. Darcy replied. “A compelling argument. Perhaps we should ask Lords Carlisle and Matlock how they intend to do so?”
Those who had gathered around laughed. When they had stopped, Elizabeth smiled.
“Well played, Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “But I will note that you have appealed to outside experts for your answer rather than providing one yourself. I believe that means I win.” She smiled at the laughter that met her declaration.
It was all ridiculous, of course, but she did enjoy the verbal fencing, particularly when her opponent was Mr. Darcy.
He shook his head at her. “You are a formidable opponent, Miss Elizabeth.”
She held out her hand for him to bow over, and he complied. As he straightened, she spoke. “I would rather be your friend, Mr. Darcy.”
A few days after Easter, a letter arrived from Longbourn. The direction was in her mother’s hand, and Elizabeth eyed it warily. Jane would have a letter as well, no doubt extolling her success in capturing a wealthy husband and listing all of the ways the eldest Bennet daughter would now be expected to assist Mamma and their sisters when their father died.
She was equally certain that no such effusions would greet her in this missive. She turned it over in her hands, and briefly considered pitching it in the flames unread. But she did not. It was, after all, the only correspondence from her mother that had arrived at Carlisle House for Elizabeth. She did not believe her mother had altered towards her in any significant way, but she always hoped for better—this was her mother, after all, and she would never have another.
At last, she returned to her chamber, sat before the hearth, broke the seal, and carefully unfolded the letter. There was no salutation, and Elizabeth could almost hear her mother’s irritated voice in the neatly penned lines.
I am sure this letter finds you well, Elizabeth, for you are never ill.
Your father and I have heard from Jane that she is to be married to a handsome and wealthy young man. This is no more than we expected. The one thing you did do right was to share your fortune with your sister, for her prospects were always going to be better than your own. A man wants a woman who is beautiful, charming, and serene—and these qualities Jane has in abundance.
Perhaps the part of the fortune you have held for yourself should also go to Jane, since she clearly understands how to make proper use of it to elevate our family’s prospects. With her new husband’s wealth, she could even assist your other sisters with a season of their own, and I do not doubt they shall each find husbands when it is their turn. Or, if you will not, send the money home to us and we will use it for your sisters. After all, what need have you for such funds when it is obvious no respectable man of means will consideryou?
Do not presume to impose upon your sister’s charity once she is Mrs. Bingley. When you return to Longbourn for the wedding, you will remain here. Perhaps we may be able to find you a gentleman with a small estate willing to overlook your deficiencies. I would send you to the Gardiners were they in town, for they may know of a tradesman who would take you with five thousand pounds.
The fact that you have had no offer after so many months must persuade even you that I have been right all along. As soon as Jane is married, you must come home to Longbourn.
Your mother,
F. Bennet
Elizabeth set the letter down on the table next to her and leaned back in her chair. It was not the worst letter she had ever received from her mother, but it was a cruel one, nonetheless.No respectable man.She closed her eyes, and a few tears escaped down the side of her face. It was just like her mother to make such vulgar insinuations. She was wrong, of course, and Elizabeth would be very glad indeed when she was able to write with happy news of her own.
Or perhaps . . . perhaps she would not write at all.
Elizabeth had never intended to return to Longbourn, but she had not given any thought to whether or not she would correspond with its inhabitants. She wondered when the Gardiners would return to London and hoped it would be soon. She would very much like her aunt’s advice.
Elizabeth must have dozed off—they had all been remarkably busy of late—for when she opened her eyes again, Jane was holding the letter and looking very angry.
“Lizzy,” she said, when Elizabeth sat up and greeted her, “I hope you do not mind that I read this. Normally I would not look at your private correspondence without permission.”
Elizabeth shook her head. What her mother had written was no surprise to her or to Jane.
“When I read my own, I was afraid of this.” She shook Elizabeth’s letter in the air. “I cannot accept Mamma’s treatment of you. She speaks from ignorance and resentment when she should treat you with pride and affection.”
“You have said as much before, and you are right, of course,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “Jane, I hope you do not believe I am a terrible person, but I do not believe I will see our parents again.”
Jane blinked. “Not even when you are to be wed?”
She refrained from reminding her sister that there had been no proposal as yet. “No, not even then, and I shall ask Lord and Lady Carlisle not to write either. Papa does not care to meet our suitors, and neither he nor Mamma will be happy for me. I would rather celebrate with those who are.”
A line appeared on Jane’s forehead as she read the letter again. “I had thought they would attend my wedding, but Lizzy, I do not want them there. And if it would cause you any distress at all, then I shall not even tellthem the day. We shall marry from Carlisle House and they can read the announcement in the papers like everyone else.”
Elizabeth sat up and took the handkerchief Jane offered. The remnants of her tears were still damp on her skin, and she attempted to put herself to rights. “Should our sisters require assistance when they are older, I would not be averse to helping them, though I will not sponsor any of them in London unless they can prove they know how to navigate polite society without creating a scandal. That task may fall to you and me as well. But as for Mamma . . .”
