Rebellion at Longbourn

Elizabeth searched his face for something but then turned away from him. Her head bowed, she muttered, “Will you tell Collins?”

“I will not.” The muscles in her back relaxed as he spoke. “In this way you make me your conspirator.” She winced. Good, she should experience guilt for encouraging him to compromise his values. “But, again, I beg you to stop.”

She did not reply. She was not arguing with him, and yet somehow he was losing the argument.

“I could speak to Collins. Encourage the use of more modern agricultural methods.” Darcy was loath to interfere with another landowners’ managing of his estate, but he would do almost anything to ensure Elizabeth’s safety.

She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you believe he would listen to your advice instead of your aunt’s?”

Darcy’s silence was a sufficient answer. He would not fool himself about how much Collins worshiped his aunt.

Damnation! He had known Elizabeth was stubborn and even admired that about her. So many women allowed themselves to be swayed by the judgments of others. But a strong will had its drawbacks; she was set on her path and would not listen to reason.

“You must cease this interference with Longbourn. Even if Collins bankrupts it…well, it is his to bankrupt.”

“No.”

“No?” What in the world does she mean?

“Mr. Collins is not a fundamentally better person than Jane or Mrs. Wiley or Mr. Jones. He simply had better luck—which does not confer any superiority of understanding or morals.”

“But surely good breeding—”

“Good breeding?” She arched an eyebrow. “The Prince Regent has good breeding. The best.”

He did not respond. The argument was irrefutable.

“Mr. Collins had the good fortune to be born to the right person. He had the good fortune that my father did not have sons. Above all, he had the good fortune to be male—”

“But it is a matter of law, Eliz—Miss Elizabeth!”

“So, the law decides that women may run estates in some situations but not in others—in an essentially random fashion. Superiority of education or understanding does not account for these differences. Is that what you are saying?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. “You would have made an excellent attorney.”

“Perhaps someday they will allow women that privilege.”

He sighed. “Somebody must lead Longbourn. It cannot thrive without someone at the helm. And inheritance is the system for selecting the person who will lead the estate. Perhaps it is not the best system, but it is nevertheless the system we have. And we must abide by it. Even if the law is…applied unevenly, it is the law. Mr. Coll

ins has inherited, and he owns Longbourn.”

“We should abide by the law—even the letter of the law—although we know it is wrong? No, I reject that conclusion. ‘An unjust law is no law at all.’”

Darcy recognized the quote by Augustine. John Locke and other radical thinkers had seized upon it. He allowed himself a small grin. “You fancy yourself the Robespierre of Longbourn, then?”

Elizabeth drew herself up into a parody of a politician’s stance. “Please, nothing so…unruly. I will be George Washington or nobody.”

She always provoked him to laughter, even in dire circumstances.

When he had sobered, he tried again. “Miss Elizabeth, for your own sake—for the sake of your family—I beg you to reconsider this path you have set your feet upon.”

Some of her defiance had ebbed away. “I cannot, Mr. Darcy.” Her shoulders slumped wearily. “The people of Longbourn depend upon me.”

They were on opposite sides of a divide that he had not even known existed. She was opposed to Darcy’s very rights as a landowner. He had arrived at Longbourn in hopes that he could help the Bennets. Oh, I should stop deluding myself; I wanted to help Elizabeth. I wanted to see her eyes shine with gratitude when she regarded me. I wanted to know she was safe. I wanted to help her.

But he no longer believed such assistance was possible, particularly not without compromising his values. The solemnity in her face suggested she sensed his despair.

Darcy cleared his throat. “I believe it is time that Georgiana and I quit Hertfordshire. I had hoped to be of further assistance to your family, but I cannot in good conscience be party to the usurpation of another landowner’s rights.”