Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was walking towards the Hunsford Parsonage, absolutely sure that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had given the excuse of having a headache because she was giving him an opportunity him to propose. It was the only thing that made sense. He had been flirting with her so obviously he was almost ashamed of himself. He remembered her blush when he asked if she would mind living far from home. What a smooth line! He was indeed, the VERY BEST at winning a woman’s heart. She must be completely in love with him already.
He knocked on the door and was shown in by a servant. The scene before him, however, was entirely shocking. Miss Bennet was crying! She was holding a letter. He was completely taken aback and all his carefully rehearsed words from Version 13 of his proposal flew right out of his head.
“Good God! What is the matter?” he cried.
“My father is ill and near death,” she said, choking on each word.
Mr. Darcy (for that is how he thought of himself, manners are very important) did not know what to say. Here he had been perfectly prepared for a joyful woman to accept his delicate proposals and throw her arms around him in undisguised pleasure (though he would then remove her arms and insist they wait until marriage). Instead he was encountering this mass of tears and anxiety. He was forced to admit that Miss Bennet did not look very attractive when she was crying.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Shall I order a glass of wine?” he said, but then instantly regretted it, the Collinses’ wine was probably terrible, they were so POOR! He should offer to fetch some wine from Rosings, or from London. No, that would take too long. He should have brought wine with him from London! How foolish! What an ABOMINABLE lack of preparation on his part. After all, she might have gone into joyful hysterics after he proposed.
“No, thank you, there is nothing to be done,” Miss Bennet said softly.
Darcy could see that Miss Bennet was SAD. The most charitable, honourable, and perfect thing that he could do would be to propose and make her HAPPY, despite the whole father dying thing. Married women do not need to be so sad about their fathers dying. This was the best idea that anyone had ever had in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD. To add to its appropriateness, Mr. Bennet wasn’t actually dead yet, so no mourning restrictions. Yes, she would be very happy to go home and assure her convalescent father that she was saved by the best, most thoughtful man in the kingdom!
“Elizabeth,” he began, she was surprised enough to hear her Christian name that she looked up. How modest she was! To pretend this was a surprise! “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” Darcy had forgotten the rest of his opening in the confusion, but he thought this was a pretty good start.
“Oh,” she said.
Darcy was perplexed, what did she mean by “oh”? Was she overcome with felicity? Had she not understood him? He said very plainly, “I have decided to marry you.”
“Oh,” she said again. She looked back to the letter, she looked at him, she looked out the window, she looked at the letter again and he was becoming rather annoyed by all her head movement. Should not she be staring into his eyes in love? He decided it was best to wait and allow her to come to her senses.
“I will marry you,” she said.
Mr. Darcy was VERY happy. One might even say he was the HAPPIEST he had ever been in his life, despite having forgotten the whole three paragraphs where he outlined EVERYTHING that was wrong with her whole family. He supposed that could wait for later, or for never. If Mr. Bennet was to die, he would do the very KIND and HONOURABLE thing and find a VERY distant cottage for all of the sisters and the horrid mother to live in obscurity until they died. Except Jane. He liked Jane, maybe she could be a companion for Georgiana. Mr. Darcy was the very picture of magnanimity. He was a perfect paragon of CHARITY. How lucky Miss Bennet was to be his future wife (he had only used her Christian name to propose, she would be Miss Bennet until they could marry, very proper, and then she would be Mrs. Darcy.)
Miss Bennet was still looking rather SAD, which was CONFUSING, but Darcy was clever enough to speculate that she might want to wish her poor father goodbye.
“Would you like to go home? We may depart tomorrow morning at first light.”
Now she smiled, this was PROGRESS. Obviously, she was too stricken with grief to understand her GREAT FORTUNE in being asked to marry him. How unfortunate! It was no matter, she only needed time to contemplate how lucky she was.
The next day the newly engaged couple departed with all speed for Hertfordshire, with Lady Catherine following behind for nearly half a mile screaming obscenities.
“She has very proficient lungs,” Miss Bennet observed.
“I was more impressed by her proficient legs; I would have never imagined she could run so far,” Mr. Darcy replied. He was disappointed again. He thought Elizabeth would be more grateful for the ride home. He had anticipated many attempted SMOOCHES that he would, of course, refuse (smooches must wait until vows were spoken, obviously). However, no smooches were forthcoming. It had been a vexing two days. His intended wife was quite the enigma.
She looked very WORRIED and Mr. Darcy assured her by saying, “I will ensure your mother and sisters are well cared for.”
Miss Bennet smiled, “Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Darcy appreciated her formality. She understood him so well. She made no small talk and mostly stared out the window. They were so perfectly matched! He loved being silent and staring out windows. It was his FAVOURITE activity! He had indeed made the best choice ever, despite what his aunt thought.
They arrived at Longbourn in good time and alighted from the carriage. The second the door was opened they could hear Mr. Bennet screaming. Miss Elizabeth Bennet (was her sister home? No, she wasn’t) Miss Bennet ran into the house.
Mr. Darcy waited to be invited in, Mrs. Bennet came out. “Mr. Darcy! Did you bring Elizabeth home to us in this distressing time? Thank you, sir!”
Mr. Darcy would have told her that he was engaged to her daughter, but she rushed back inside. He wasn’t sure if he should enter without being invited (what were the liberties of an engaged man?), so he wandered over to a prettyish kind of little wilderness on one side of the lawn and sat down on a bench. He began wondering if Mrs. Bennet would be willing to move to the furthest county from Derbyshire. Maybe Somersetshire? No, not far enough…Cornwall. Would they enjoy Ireland? He and Miss Bennet would visit of course, maybe once a year. That was how he usually dealt with disagreeable relations.
Miss Bennet ran up to her father’s room. She entered to find him rolling on the floor in EXQUISITE pain.
“I’m dying!” he cried.
“What is wrong?”
“I. Am. Dying!” Mr. Bennet repeated.
Miss Bennet wanted more explanation, “Have you seen Mr. Jones?”
“There is no point in sending for the apothecary! I am absolutely certain; this is the end. I ought to have set aside money,” Mr. Bennet began to weep, “I failed you all and now Mr. Collins will turn you out once I am cold in my grave.”
Miss Bennet had more sense than sympathy, “Father, we must call the apothecary.”
“If I had put fifty pounds in the five percents each year, why Jane’s fortune would almost be-”
“FATHER!” Miss Bennet said sternly, “I am sending for Mr. Jones and you will submit to an examination.”
Mr. Bennet replied mournfully, “I’ll be dead before he comes.”
Miss Bennet sent a servant and Mr. Jones arrived in good time. He went upstairs and examined the patient.
“Excellent news!” Mr. Jones said, as he came back downstairs, “Mr. Bennet will live many more years.”
“Impossible!” said Mrs. Bennet, “He’s been carrying on like this the past three days!”
“I have given him some opium,” Mr. Jones said calmly, “He only has a stone, and not a very large one either. It will pass soon and the draught will put an end to all this disagreeable noise. I will not bother to call the surgeon, give him plenty to drink and he will be set to rights in a day or two.”
Mrs. Bennet was delighted, Miss Bennet was horrified, and Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were all glad to be spared any more discordant yelling. Miss Bennet went to find Mr. Darcy.
“Has he passed?” Mr. Darcy asked, with COMPASSION, as the screaming had ceased.
“No, quite the contrary,” said Miss Bennet, “he is expected to make a full recovery.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Darcy, all of his happy plans were quite overthrown!
Miss Bennet wondered what this “oh” could mean. Was he overcome by happiness for her not having to endure the loss of her father? Miss Bennet wondered what she should do now, if her father’s life had not been in danger, she never would have agreed to marry Mr. Darcy…
“I feel obligated to tell you, now that your father is no longer thought to be dying, that I find the idea of marrying into such a vulgar family rather detestable,” began Mr. Darcy.
Miss Bennet’s eyes fixed on him with a ferocity that he had not expected. The colour rose in her cheeks and she began in a most angry tone…
… when Mr. Darcy was arrested by the sight of Miss Bennet at his own house, he was filled with HOPE. He had truly taken her words to heart. He had examined his actions and feelings. He had made SIGNIFICANT, IMPORTANT CHANGES to his manner of interacting with people below his station. He had even stopped calling them repulsive behind their backs! He was rather ASHAMED of what his previous behaviour and thinking had been. If Mr. Bennet had really died, he ought to have found a cottage for the Bennets within a least thirty miles, maybe Yorkshire?
Mr. Darcy began to walk towards Elizabeth. He must show her that her words had changed him. He must be POLITE and CONSCIENTIOUS. He would ask to be introduced to her friends. He would ask about the health of her family! He would show her by every possible means that he was a TRUE GENTLEMAN! This was very SERIOUS BUSINESS.
Was it possible for a woman to accept a man’s proposals twice?
For more short stories, go here
For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught
For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded