Page 46 of Such Low Connections

“Jane or you will be next, I am sure, Lizzy,” Charlotte answered. “I’m sure you will have another proposal before long, and this time it will be one you should accept.”

Elizabeth turned her head to look out of the window, lest Charlotte should read something in her eyes of what had occurred with Mr Darcy. She had indeed received another proposal.

But she had refused it, and she had been right to do so.

“What I said to you that day after Christmas still stands, Charlotte,” Elizabeth told her friend. “Without love and respect, I shall accept no man’s suit.”

“How proud you are, Lizzy!” Charlotte laughed, though kindly. “I fear you might become rather lonely if you persist in pursuing your ideals.”

Elizabeth felt herself unable to argue without giving away more of her present uncomfortable feelings than she dared. Charlotte would be horrified to learn that her friend had refused a man with £10,000 a year to his name. She would think Elizabeth a fool and a simpleton, regardless of her reasons.

Yet marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy was unthinkable. Despite his high compliments to her mind and person, he had thought nothing of asking her as a last resort, and expecting her to swallow his insults to her family in the bargain. Such behaviour could not inspire love or respect — and if he had ever truly felt such tender emotions for her, they were surely gone now, after how viciously she had refused him.

His dreadful proposal, so full of casual superiority and contempt, had riled her temper beyond endurance. Elizabeth could not entirely blame herself for her vehemence, even when, with a cooler head, she would have wished to be more measured. Mr Darcy’s pride and arrogance had been like a target begging to be pricked and burst like a bubble. How dare he believe himself so superior!

With some chagrin, however, and prompted by Charlotte’s comments, Elizabeth also had to recognise her own pride in her quick wit and high spirits. Maybe she and Mr Darcy shared something in common, even if it was only such a fault. He had also rendered her a valuable service in revealing George Wickham’s true character to her, whatever had motivated him to do so.

“Do you think my opinions too extreme, Charlotte?” Elizabeth asked her. “Or is it only the force with which I express them that is regrettable?”

“I think you sometimes adopt strong opinions prematurely, before you know enough of the facts in a particular case,” Charlotte answered honestly. “We are all wrong sometimes, but it is easier to be so when one has not previously taken a strong line.”

Elizabeth sighed and nodded.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she agreed. “I ought to be more moderate.”

If they ever met again, she must be fair and civil to Mr Darcy, and thank him for his intelligence on George Wickham. She owed him that much, if no more.

“I shall hold you to that, Lizzy. Now, I have you here for three weeks yet. Let me think where else we might call.”

∞∞∞

When Jane’s next letter from London reached Hunsford, it made no mention of Mr Bingley; the date indicated that it had likely crossed with Elizabeth’s first letter from Kent. She read the letter openly at the breakfast table, confident that it would contain little that could not be shared, and that her companions would all have some interest in news of her relatives.

“The Gardiner children will miss Jane when she goes home to Longbourn,” Elizabeth remarked after reading a whole page on their games, songs, and personalities. “She is so very good with them.”

“It is a shame that Miss Bennet was disappointed in her nuptial hopes and will not have her own children in the near future,” pronounced Mr Collins airily. Swallowing down her resentment, Elizabeth gave this remark nothing more than a polite smile.

“Not everyone is as lucky as we are, my dear,” Charlotte said swiftly to her husband, with an apologetic glance to Elizabeth. “I am sure Jane’s turn will come soon enough. What else does her letter say, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth frowned deeply. Much to her surprise, not all her letter was as innocuous as she had supposed. The third page had contained some surprising news, news which she was not sure ought to be shared.

“Jane has called on the King family several times,” Elizabeth said at last. “They are the cousins of Mary King, whom you know from Hertfordshire.”

“Yes. What of them?” Charlotte asked, her keen ears for gossip detecting that there was something more than a regular social call to report.

Maria and Mr Collins nodded as well. Maria Lucas knew the King family as well as Elizabeth and her sister did, while Mr Collins was always on the lookout for snippets of news he might share with Lady Catherine.

“Mr Wickham, well, Lieutenant Wickham of the militia regiment in Meryton, had been courting Mary King,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I told Charlotte that much. Now it seems that her uncle has sent her to Liverpool in order to remove the possibility of this match.”

“They did not take kindly to his courting of Mary King’s £10,000 dowry,” remarked Charlotte with a smile. “I dare say that her relatives hope for a better match now that she has her grandfather’s legacy.”

“Is Lieutenant Wickham a… fortune hunter?” asked Maria timidly of the others at the table.

“Yes, he is, Maria,” said Elizabeth decisively, glad to be able to say this openly without revealing any of Mr Darcy’s personal letter. “Or at least, that seems to be the belief of the King family, and I have no reason to doubt their judgement.”

“You have changed your tune, Lizzy,” observed Charlotte teasingly. “I thought that Mr Wickham was to be excused much on account of his misfortunes, if not his pleasing face and manners.”

Elizabeth’s face flamed with embarrassment in recalling her ill-informed conversation with Charlotte about the relative merits of Mr Wickham and Mr Bingley.