Teaching Eliza, page 7
“You are always selfish and tyrannical,” the colonel interjected.
“Women upset everything. There is no telling what disasters may occur when you let a woman into your life.” He emitted one of his characteristic huffs. “No, if my demeanour is wanting, that is how it must be. I repeat: I refuse to put on airs to disguise my true character.”
“Then perhaps, Fitz,” the colonel stated baldly, and without a trace of a smile, “your true character is exactly what you ought to consider changing.”
~
Elizabeth knew she ought to return to Jane and see how she fared, but she also knew she would not be able to conceal her distress and fury, and thus set off for a brisk walk on the opposite side of the house to where Jane was most likely sitting with her Charles. She was relieved to meet no one on her walk—more of a run, really, such was the energy of her ire—although she did have to choose a different path once when she noticed Mrs. Hurst and Caroline in the far distance.
When she returned to her rooms, her hair in disarray but her temper somewhat under control, it was to find Jane sitting serenely on the chaise by the window, a throw around her pale shoulders and a book in her hands.
“You had a fight with Professor Darcy.” Jane offered the observation as a simple statement.
“You know me too well, dear sister. What gave it away?”
“You usually take better care of your hair when you walk, and almost always take a bonnet, but I can see that you have been walking much faster than usual, for your face is red and your breathing still a bit hard. You do that when you are angry. And with whom have you spoken today that would raise your ire, but the professor? Also,” she smirked, “Charles told me.”
Lizzy was about to respond with some exasperated and possibly unkind comment, but now she allowed her face to fall into a smile. “Oh, Jane, you always know what to say to cheer me up. Yes, I had words with the professor. He is most vexing! And yet, he is, perhaps, the one who can help me best with my problem. He offered a most scandalous suggestion, which I ought to outright refuse, but I must confess that it has merit. Oh, whatever shall I do?”
“Charles only heard of the argument after the fact, and with no details. Whatever did the professor say to upset you so, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth sat carefully on the chaise by her sister and tucked the throw more securely around her, then launched into a recounting of Darcy’s offer of a sham engagement as his recompense for teaching her the ways and speech of the upper classes.
“He says it will be of benefit to us both, for it will bring me into the eye of the ton and will provide me with a certain cachet once the engagement is broken. Correspondingly, it will do the exact opposite for him, which is what he desires. Tell me it is mad, that I ought to turn around and never look upon that awful man again.”
Jane let her eyes drift and lose their direct focus. One who knew her less well than Lizzy might think her to be staring vacantly into the distance, but Lizzy was intimately familiar with the subtleties of Jane’s calm features and knew her sister was thinking deeply. “It is not mad, Lizzy. It is, rather, quite ingenious. And it is, as you say, beneficial to both of you. You have already decided to accept, I can see by your face. Now you need only convince yourself that it is the right choice. Charles and I will be in Town much of the time you will be there; you know you can always come to us if you need us. And Aunt Gardiner and Lady Grant will not let you suffer either, nor will the colonel, should matters turn sour.”
“Turn sour, Jane? They could hardly have started more sour! But yes, I concede, I shall not be alone in Town. Do you really believe it the best course? Whatever will Papa say? Mother, of course, cannot know the truth, for it would be all over England within days, but we must tell Papa. He must know the real reason I am to visit so much at Netherfield, and he will eventually demand an accounting for why I have thrown over the most eligible Professor Darcy of Pemberley when that time inevitably arrives.”
“Yes, Papa must know, and our aunt and uncle, and the Grants. They can all be relied upon for their discretion. If Professor Darcy is correct in his estimations and you begin work soon, you can be out in London society shortly after Easter. That will fit well with Lady Grant’s proposal to present you in court, and you will be quite the thing once the following season begins. It really is all quite perfect, Lizzy. I think you ought to agree.”
“Perfect,” she grimaced, “except for the small detail of the annoying Professor Darcy himself! Oh, I find myself dreading a headache which will last six months.”
By the end of the following afternoon, Jane was deemed well enough to return to Longbourn, an occasion which Lizzy wished she could celebrate with greater enthusiasm. However, she knew that her return home would be temporary and of short duration. Any joyful anticipation of the promised season in London was well tempered by the certainty of the weeks and months to come in Darcy’s company.
She had informed the professor of her decision the very evening after she had spoken to Jane. Darcy had looked triumphant; the colonel quietly pleased. “I shall congratulate myself, Miss Elizabeth,” he had purred, “on my great fortune to have the chance to further our friendship.” And once more he had kissed her hand in a most genteel fashion. This was the one aspect Lizzy felt she might grow accustomed to quite easily, for it was most pleasant to be treated as such a fine lady.
Darcy had harrumphed and said, “Well, good then. Today is Saturday. We shall start Monday of next week. Be here by ten in the morning.” Then he walked out of the room. Elizabeth did not see him again that morning, or even the following day before her and Jane’s departure, except for a brief glimpse at church. For this she was thankful. As Jane spent some quiet time with Charles after services and before the carriage arrived to take them and their trunks home, Lizzy found paper and pen and wrote once more to her aunt, outlining this strange scheme and begging for her discretion.
I must tell you the truth, dear Aunt, for I should not have you under the misconception that I actually like Professor Darcy, much less that I intend to marry him, but I do beg you to keep this to yourself, my uncle, and the Grants, beseeching their secrecy as well. The whole scheme depends on it being believed completely.
Mr. Bennet, too, was brought in on the secret, of which he did not initially approve, and for a moment threatened to withhold his permission entirely. The scheme was nearly undone before it started, until Jane convinced him how greatly to Lizzy’s advantage it would be. It was only when she promised that Lizzy would have complete access to the Bingleys’ house in Town, no matter the day or hour, that he relented. The plan seemed to be set into motion.
However, a letter arrived at breakfast the next morning that set the household astir and temporarily replaced her strange plans from the forefront of Lizzy’s considerations. The letter was from a certain Mr. Collins, the young parson in line to inherit Longbourn after Mr. Bennet’s eventual demise. Mr. Bennet read the letter aloud to all present for the morning meal, a decision which might have put one or more of the ladies present off her eggs. In an obsequious and somewhat pompous manner, the young man introduced himself, apologised for being the means by which the estate would be wrested from the family, and announced his intentions to mend the rift in the family between his father and Mr. Bennet. He concluded by announcing his intention to visit. To wit, he had written that he would arrive on Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock in the afternoon.
“But Mr. Bennet,” his wife exclaimed, “that is today!”
“Indeed, Mrs. Bennet, it is. I hope, my dear, that you have ordered a good dinner today for this addition to our family party. This might be a fine thing for our girls.”
“Mr. Bennet! How unkind of you to announce this so suddenly! ‘Tis most unthoughtful of you. Have you no care for my nerves? Hill, Hill,” she cried for her housekeeper. “We must prepare! Oh, there is so much to be done. My poor nerves!”
Suddenly she stopped and turned her gaze to her husband, narrowing her eyes. “What, Mr. Bennet, did you mean by saying ‘this might be a fine thing for our girls?’”
“Nothing, my dear, other than that I believe he means to marry one of them.” He tossed off these words with an air of indifference, but Lizzy could see the glint in his eye that suggested he knew precisely the effect his pronouncement would have. Neither she nor her father was disappointed.
“Marry one of them! Oh! La! Girls, girls, you must prepare! Oh, what a pity Jane is already engaged, for she would suit admirably. Perhaps Lizzy… she is sensible enough to be a clergyman’s wife, if not as pretty as Jane. All of you, be sure to wear your finest frocks, for if this young man takes a liking to one of you, we may keep Longbourn! Lydia, you look to best advantage in pink, and Kitty, in blue. Mary suits green, but not the dress with the ribbon, but rather the one with the lace. Lizzy, you must wear your yellow gown, for you look well in it! Perhaps Mr. Collins will choose to marry you, and then we will all be saved!” How conveniently she forgot about the wealthy Mr. Bingley, now that a lifetime at Longbourn was in sight.
Lizzy exchanged an anxious glance with her father. She knew him well and knew that he shared her thoughts. She would not be at home for dinner, and further, she would soon announce her engagement to Professor Darcy. But they could not divulge this information to Mrs. Bennet! Her silent plea was met with a quiet nod and twitch of her father’s lip.
“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said after a moment of thought, “Lizzy has had an invitation from Miss Bingley today, and she has already agreed to dine there. We can hardly ask her to refuse the invitation now, after food has been ordered and plans made. Miss Bingley would take it as a cut, and we do wish to remain on the best of terms with Jane’s future sister, do we not?”
Lizzy could almost see the visions of Mr. Bingley’s grand house and his grand carriages and grand ballroom dancing about her mother’s head, replacing the sentimental notion of remaining forever at Longbourn, and Mrs. Bennet immediately cried, “No, of course, Lizzy must go! But why does she not also ask for Jane? Jane is five times prettier than Lizzy, and she is to marry Miss Bingley’s brother. Surely she meant to invite Jane instead.”
“No, Mama,” Jane said softly. “Caroline wishes to know Elizabeth better, and I am still recovering and wish to spend a quiet day at home. Lizzy shall go to Netherfield, and we will all explain her absence to Mr. Collins.”
“That we shall,” was Mr. Bennet’s final word, and he immediately made a great show of calling for the carriage to take Elizabeth to her destination, and set her on the first step towards her new life.
~
Elizabeth was ushered into the small study at the far end of the library at exactly ten o’clock. She had arrived some several minutes early, but Forbes, the butler, had requested that she wait in the morning room until precisely the correct time. He opened the door to the study, announced her, and then withdrew, closing the door behind him. Lizzy was left alone with the dark figure behind the desk by the window.
“Good. You are not late,” he offered by way of a greeting. “Sit down, Eliza, and let us begin.”
“I am very well, thank you, Professor Darcy. Thank you for asking,” Elizabeth uttered pointedly. “I did indeed have a most pleasant morning. I hope you were able to enjoy the fine weather before I arrived to keep you at work all day.”
Darcy stared at her. “I did not ask you how you were, nor did I inquire about your morning.”
“No, and you ought to have done so!” She challenged him with her own fixed gaze. “You claim to be able to teach me the manners of Town, but you show none yourself. Am I, rather, to teach proper behaviour to you? Perhaps I ought to halve my payment, and only agree to be courted by you, rather than be acknowledged as your betrothed.”
“You are accustomed to speaking your mind, Eliza.”
“I am accustomed to being treated with the respect due my station. If that involves being outspoken, then yes, I confess, I shall not refrain from speaking my mind! And if you will not treat me as a lady, perhaps it is I who should teach you proper manners!”
Elizabeth expected the professor to anger at this statement. If she was unaccustomed to being treated with disrespect, he must be a hundred times more so. His haughty manner and studied rudeness bespoke a man who accepted correction or chastisement from nobody. But to her great surprise, instead of growing red and exploding at her, the professor began to laugh. His frown dissolved into mirth as his eyes crinkled at the corners, and a deep rich chuckle emerged from his throat. She had heard this laugh once before, and while it disconcerted her for reasons she could not identify, she found it somewhat appealing as well. It hinted at aspects to his character that he did not ordinarily show to the world.
“Well, well, well. The kitten has claws. Richard was right after all. Very well, Eliza.” He stood up and walked around the desk to greet her properly. Bowing to the perfect degree, he intoned in his perfect diction, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, how delightful to see you this morning. I do hope you are well and have spent a pleasant morning thus far.” There was something genuine in his smile, a glint of real amusement replacing the accustomed sardonic look in his eyes.
Elizabeth returned his smile with one of her own. “There, that was not so bad, was it Professor Darcy? And how are you today?”
“Ready to get to work,” came the curt response. The curmudgeon had returned. “Let us begin with vowels. Yours are not unaccountably awful by general standards, and of course, the local dialect varies only slightly—to the common ear, at least—from the accents of the greater London region, mainly up the estuary, but your vowels do exhibit some influence from the Buckinghamshire dialects and tend alarmingly towards rhotacisation. This must be corrected. Say your vowels.”
“If you were a gentleman, you might ask me to sit down, before flinging terms and ideas at me that I cannot begin at this point to comprehend.”
Darcy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Indeed. Would you like to sit, Miss Eliza?” She sat. “There, now—as for those vowels….”
“Are you always this rude, Professor Darcy? Do you never take a moment to say something pleasant, to try to learn a little about your students, before starting your lesson?”
He looked quite puzzled. “No. Why on earth should I do that? It seems a complete waste of time.”
“You are a most perplexing man, Professor.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “Now, as I mentioned, while your accent is not as bad as some, it is hardly suitable for society. We will work, and work hard. Remember: You are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech. Your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and the Bible…”
“I believe the Bible was first written in Hebrew and Greek, sir.”
“Indeed.” His answer was cold. “But we did it better.”
To this, Lizzy could only stare in disbelief. “Are you always so proud, sir?”
“I have every right to be proud. Where there is real superiority, pride will be always under good regulation.”
Lizzy opened her mouth, then closed it again immediately. Finding herself in the quite unusual position of being unable to think of a single arch comment in reply, she decided to give up this train of conversation. “I believe, sir, it is time to commence with my vowels.”
FIVE — A GENTLEMAN COMES A-COURTING
~
AS ELIZABETH TOILED AT NETHERFIELD, endeavouring to distinguish between two very similar vowels, Jane had the dubious pleasure of welcoming the family’s guest to Longbourn. Mr. Collins, as he had written, arrived at exactly four o’clock that afternoon. Upon alighting from the hired chaise which had borne him on the final leg of his journey, he bowed low in a fashion not often seen in men under the age of fifty, and immediately addressed Mr. Bennet in the most overblown and ingratiating terms, after which he performed similar obsequies to the lady of the house. Jane looked upon all of this with her usual unruffled grace, although she heard Lizzy’s arch comments in the back of her mind and she took note of her family’s reactions to recount when Lizzy returned later in the evening. The two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, merely stared in boredom, for without the glory of a red coat on his back—the mark of an officer in the militia—there was nothing to interest them in a man. Only Mary showed some signs of interest in the newcomer. He was a clergyman recently bestowed with the patronage of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings, in Kent; Mary was of a studious, religious bent herself, and clearly hoped for some hours of conversation with this new-found cousin.
As for the gentleman himself, he was a tall, heavy-looking man of about five and twenty, and he looked over his young cousins with an eye that suggested an interest in more than merely offering an olive branch to the family. Mr. Bennet, it seemed, had been correct when he had suggested that Mr. Collins wished to choose one of the girls for a wife. This was a notion which their mother was most happy to encourage, and as such, urged her girls to converse with their guest. The ladies were ready enough to talk, and neither did Mr. Collins seem inclined to be silent. Mr. Bennet was mostly quiet, as he so often was. Jane imagined this suited him greatly, for he so often had little to say, and Mr. Collins had little with which to recommend himself. After only a few minutes it was clear that Mr. Collins’ air was grave and stately, his manners very formal and stiff. Kitty and Lydia looked desperate to be afforded relief from his company; Mary looked like she could not have enough of it.
Although Mary was, perhaps, the least lovely of the Bennet daughters, she had nonetheless inherited something of her mother’s youthful beauty. Jane had always supposed that Mary’s faults lay not so much in plainness of feature, but in her manner of dress and grooming, which emphasised those characteristics best ignored, and which ignored those features that would be best emphasised. In the right dress, with her hair done softly and without her eyes screwed up constantly as she peered into her books in poor light, she would be as pretty as any of her sisters. Before their guest’s arrival, Jane had encouraged Mary to select an attractive frock and had even convinced the girl to try something different with her hair. She smiled now as she observed some success emanating from her efforts, for Mr. Collins seemed flattered by her attention and glanced towards Mary with increasing frequency as he spoke about the values that his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, would like to see in the rector’s wife.
