Page 71 of Fortuitous Encounters

“He did not, but we discussed the matter, and it is quite resolved to everyone’s satisfaction.”

“If it is not asking too much, can you tell me why it is resolved in such a way. I was certain of my conclusions, and would be astonished to find them in error?”

The poor woman turned bright red and looked like she had never asked an awkward or embarrassing question before. It may well have been the worst moment of her life, but in the Bennet household, a moment this awkward would not even be the worst moment of breakfast. The poor woman truly needed some sisters to toughen her up.

“It was resolved in the usual way. He seems to have some… er… what did he call them… ah… ‘habits of expense’ to guide his requirements for a bride. A figure of around £50,000 was discussed, and that was in the appropriate range. At any rate, we are in accord that no proposal is forthcoming or expected, since I have no such fortune, and neither of us is particularly distressed by the lack of said engagement.”

It seemed the matter could be resolved, and all so easily. I had no idea what she could be nervous about.

“Do you know what ‘habits of expense’ means?” she asked.

I was somewhat chagrined. “I have no idea, and I suspect that, given the opportunity to learn, I probably would demur. I am not at all certain I want to know about expensive gentlemen’s habits.”

She gasped at the implications but nodded in agreement. Some things were best left unknown.

She looked a bit embarrassed. “I know I am being even ruder than my mother, but would you object to telling me how far short of that mark your fortune is?”

She covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide in fear or embarrassment, but I just looked at her calmly and tried to settle her down. “Be at ease. I do not mind. You really should have some sisters if such a small slip is going to distress you. May I lend you some? I have plenty and I could spare you at least two with no trouble whatsoever, and three would not be out of the question?”

She seemed incapable of seeing the humour of my suggestion, or anything other than horror, so I rushed to finish the thought. “It is not gossip you seek! Everyone in Meryton knows the answer. My cousin Collins knows as well, so be assured your mother is aware too.”

She studied me curiously, finally coming down from her embarrassment, so I answered. “As of this morning, I am around £49,993 short of the mark.”

She gasped. “You have no fortune at all?”

The shocked look should have made me angry, but it just made me impertinent. “No fortune at all… well, actually I have £50 per annum, so I am not quite destitute. But fear not! To compensate, I have no accomplishments either!”

She looked mortified, and I had to spend another minute trying to explain the difference between teasing and censure; which seemed to be entirely new concepts to her. I thought it might profit Lady Catherine to hire a master to instruct her on teasing, and of course, Mr Darcy could profit from the instruction as well. It would be very efficient for the estates if they shared lessons, since they were both complete novices. They could both start with the very basics and work their way up.

She eventually calmed. “To be perfectly clear, you openly discussed marriage with my cousin, he told you he needed a large dowry, and you now consider yourself either bereft or barely escaped.”

I laughed gaily. “Your cousin is nowhere near that disagreeable. We are just not suited to each other, and our situations are entirely incompatible. I assure you, I am neither bereft nor relieved. I never seriously considered him at all.”

She took the news with much more of a confused look than I might have expected. I began to wonder what was so confusing about the whole thing, since I barely knew the colonel longer than a fortnight. Why would she expect him to be proposing marriage after such a brief acquaintance, and why was she surprised that an army colonel might be short of funds from time to time?

I was pondering those weighty matters, and the unexpectedly cross countenance of Miss de Bourgh, when the door-bell rang again. I began to wonder if the colonel planned to come back and check on my condition—or possibly stand still while I beat him with a stick for saying such disagreeable things about my sister.

‘Honour of my cousin’s triumph,’ indeed! PAH!

When I had explored the idea of a stick and the colonel’s head in sufficient detail, I cast about for an even more ridiculous supposition. Perhaps, if I was truly in a mood for far-fetched suppositions, I might hypothesise that it was Mr Darcy come to check on my condition.

I was quite enjoying a good giggle about the ridiculousness of that idea when the parlour door opened again.

Application (Anne)

What in the world was he doing here? Perhaps he came back to verify Miss Bennet’s accounts?

Darcy looked flustered, so perhaps he was reconsidering the amount of fortune he required. Why did he need so much money? Perhaps Pemberley was not as prosperous as everyone surmised, or perhaps those ‘habits of expense’ took more money than I thought. Perhaps he was a gambler, which might explain much. Or maybe money was not enough, and he wanted a title? Either way, he should have known Elizabeth did not have £50,000 without even asking. I only had the £30,000 our family usually provided, same as Georgiana.

It was all so vexing. I liked Miss Elizabeth very much, even though we had only enjoyed (or endured) one proper conversation, with half of that spent in my abject mortification, and the remainder in her teasing. I was loath to let my cousin toy with her… though come to think of it, she looked much more amused than aggrieved. This was most peculiar! Did she even want to marry the loggerhead? She had asserted quite clearly that she did not just five minutes prior, so I had to take her at her word.

I stood up with Elizabeth and made my greeting, though her curtsey admittedly looked better than mine. Mother always insisted mine was absolutely perfect and needed no improvement, and as usual it was easier to agree than to challenge her (or actually improve myself).

Elizabeth replied in the usual way, “Mr Darcy,” sounding as if she had left out part of what she intended to say, such as, ‘did you get lost on the way to Rosings’ or maybe, ‘I am still nearly £50,000 short the same as this morning’… or, well, I could not think of what else she might say?

My own greeting was barely civil. “Darcy.”

I did my best not to curl my lip in disgust at the man, though I doubt my best was very good, and he looked at me in nervous confusion. The only thing I could think of to explain his apprehension was that he probably had no idea I had worked out his intention to propose to Elizabeth. He would have no way to know she had told me about his conversation that morning, or his habits of expense. I was tempted to ask him about those, but that seemed like breaking a confidence, so I would have to wait at least five minutes.