J Croft - A Little Whimsical in His Civilities

As much as I ache to particularly engage Elizabeth, I wonder whether I am being opportunistic and overbearing. I have grown accustomed to making all my own decisions, as well as those affecting Pemberley and my sister, since father’s passing. My orders are obeyed without question, and I am in the habit of expecting instant gratification. It has become second nature to act in a manner which constitutes my own satisfaction without reference to any person wholly unconnected with me. Now that Elizabeth and I shall be irrevocably connected, I imagine she will have something to say against such an imperious standpoint. Although her lessons will be hard, indeed, at first, I shall learn to respect her counsel. As I do now.

We resolve that her father’s consent should be sought straightaway and that her mother be kept in the dark till the morning, so to speak. With Elizabeth’s hand on my arm, we return to the assembly; and I immediately request a moment of Mr. Bennet’s time.

All is well.

The siren call that lured me here has been answered, my hopes have not been dashed upon the rocks, and the tide of my unpopularity has been favourably turned in this welcoming sea. There shall be nothing henceforth but smooth sailing… although this past hour was certainly not without turbulence. Mr. Bennet blustered and made waves when I applied for Elizabeth’s hand. He eventually gave his blessing but not before his wife caught wind of my petition. Elizabeth’s mother went quite distracted; and we had to solicit the services of Mr. Jones, the accommodating apothecary, to administer one of his tranquilizing physics.

The ball is now over, Elizabeth has taken her leave, the Bennet carriage is pulling away, and Bingley and I must return to Netherfield alone. Until I see my betrothed again, time shall elapse as if regulated by a broken timepiece. I will, undoubtedly, grow increasingly impatient with the restrictions Mr. Bennet has placed on our engagement; yet I shall show him by every civility within my power that I am worthy of his daughter’s esteem.

Before entering Bingley’s carriage, I notice the harvest moon has risen high in the sky and now appears quite normal; yet it still presides over the most idyllic and extraordinary night of my life.

As we roll along the road leading to my friend’s estate, I settle back onto the plush upholstery squabs, close my eyes, and sigh. It is a sigh of relief, contentment, and yearning. The yearning I shall abide, for it is of a measurable duration this time. I will visit Longbourn every morning as early as civility will allow and remain as late as Elizabeth’s parents will countenance. Most importantly, my days as a single man in want of a wife are numbered. Strange. I do not remember ever thinking of myself as being ‘in want of a wife‘ until I was introduced to the Bennet family.

When we arrive at Netherfield, Bingley invites me to join him for a brandy; but strong spirits are neither desired nor required. Unaccustomed to such powerful emotions, tonight’s anxiety and exhilaration have taken their toll on me. I decline his offer and climb the stairs to my private chambers, where my trusty valet helps me prepare for bed.

Before succumbing to a deep and untroubled slumber, the events leading up to this moment are reviewed, including the bathing scenario; and I give thanks providence impelled me to return to the scene of my initial asinine impropriety. My final thought of the night answers my first of the evening. Have I a right to such a very strong local attachment? You bet your plume-plucked, pox-marked, weather-bitten ar … Pardon. You bet your sweet, sweet life I have!

— Finis ~