by Jann Rowland
“I must say, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth one day when she was with her friend, “it appears to me you are avoiding Miss Bingley to the best of your abilities.”
Rather than blush or respond with anything approaching regret, Georgiana was positively smug at her success. “Yes, and she has no notion of it, does she?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, she does not. Only the other day she spoke to me of how much my friendship with you has cooled; her observation was as self-satisfied as any I have ever seen.”
The two girls joined in their laughter. “I shall not own to any remorse, Elizabeth, for she is difficult to endure. Though I know we must have some congress with her, I shall not repine those times I have avoided her cloying attentions.”
Mr. Darcy was of a similar opinion, though he had the grace to appear a little more shamefaced than his sister. “Disguise of any sort is my abhorrence, but in this instance, I make an exception.”
“And I do not blame you, sir,” was Elizabeth’s reply. “Would that I could avoid Miss Bingley as much as you do.”
Regardless of Miss Bingley’s attendance or lack thereof, Elizabeth enjoyed her time in London. As the days wore on, however, more of her thoughts were consumed by what would happen when the season ended. Jane and Mr. Bingley had already informed her of their intention to return to Netherfield, and Elizabeth knew she could live with them if that was what she wished. But the nagging feeling of being a burden would not leave her, and it impaired her ability to decide. Then one day a conversation between sisters—with Mr. Bingley in attendance—changed her mind. How they accomplished it was a matter of much surprise to Elizabeth.
“Lizzy,” said Jane as they were sitting together after a night at a dinner party, “I know we have not spoken of this in some time, but I would wish to settle it now.”
Curious as to her sister’s forceful manner, Elizabeth replied: “What would you like to settle, Jane?”
“The question of where you will reside when the season ends. I want you to live with us, Lizzy. You will not enjoy living at Longbourn with Mr. Collins; you would be much better at Netherfield with me.”
“Is this truly you, Jane?” asked Elizabeth with some amazement. “I might wonder what has provoked this forceful sister to appear when she has been hidden all these years.”
“Perhaps it was my fault,” said Mr. Bingley, though his grin spoke nothing of apology. “Jane’s concern has been growing, and I advised her to speak without disguise.”
“Nothing less than my love would induce me to do so,” added Jane.
Elizabeth’s heart melted at this evidence of her sister’s affection, such that she raised her hand to dash away the tears which were forming at the corners of her eyes. When she had mastered herself enough to reclaim the ability for speech, she fixed her sister with a watery smile.
“I should like nothing more than to come and stay with you, Jane, but I should not like to be a burden.
“How could you be a burden?” asked Mr. Bingley. “We would never consider you an encumbrance upon us. You should also recall that if you return to Longbourn, Mr. Collins will consider you a burden; we shall not.”
It was so simple, and yet Elizabeth had not thought of it in those terms. She laughed and said: “That is true, Mr. Bingley, though for whatever reason it escaped my attention.”
“That is surprising,” said Mr. Bingley, “for according to your sister, you are among the most intelligent of women. Yet I wonder, given this oversight.”
Elizabeth fixed the man with a mock glare. “There is no need to be insulting, sir.”
Though Mr. Bingley chuckled and shook his head, Jane’s pleading gaze grabbed Elizabeth’s attention. “Well, Lizzy? Shall you not live with us?”
“What of your privacy?” asked Elizabeth, making one last token protest, though every bit of her urged her to accept.
“I should think Netherfield is large enough that Jane and I can find a bit of privacy if we desire it,” said Mr. Bingley. “Do not let that concern you.”
“Then I accept,” said Elizabeth, feeling a great weight lift from her shoulders. “I thank you both for your insistence, for the thought of returning to Longbourn is not palatable.”
“If you had made this choice before, it would not have continued to vex you,” said an incandescently happy Jane. “Now that you have agreed, do not suppose we shall allow you to renege on your promise.”
“I should never presume to make such an attempt,” said Elizabeth, meaning every word. “There is nothing I wish more than to spend more precious time with my sister. And if you desire privacy, why, I shall go out on a walk. I am certain I will come to love the paths of Netherfield as much as I do those of Longbourn.”
“Then let us consider it settled,” said Mr. Bingley. “The only question is when and what to tell your family.”
“Mary will understand, though Mama might not,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins will be relieved.”
“I would not be so certain of that,” muttered Mr. Bingley. “Given the man’s propensity to consider himself your guardian, he may surprise you.”
“Perhaps we should wait until we return to announce it to them,” said Jane. “It may be easier if we do it in person.”
“That might be for the best,” said Elizabeth. “I should not wish to provoke accusing letters from Mama.”
They all agreed on this and left the subject for others, speaking of their plans. Mr. Bingley did not know what the future held, for he only possessed a lease until Michaelmas. Perhaps they would live in London again over the winter. Wherever they were, it would not be in Mr. Collins’s company, which suited Elizabeth well.
Chapter XVI
As time passed, leading them ever closer to Lady Susan’s ball, Elizabeth found herself more engaged with the Darcys, to the extent that she was in their company at least three or four times a week. And yet, while many of those instances included Miss Bingley, the woman remained unaware of the rest. This was accomplished by her inability to fathom why they would take more of an interest in Elizabeth than they had shown, and her ability to see what she wished.
An illustration of this happened only a few days before the ball when Elizabeth was preparing to leave one morning, having received Georgiana’s invitation to visit that day, on a day when Jane was occupied with Mr. Bingley. As she was donning her bonnet in the vestibule—the weather having warmed enough to render her spenser unnecessary—Miss Bingley entered and, seeing her, greeted her with her usual manner.
“I see you are to go out again,” said Miss Bingley. “How fortunate it is that your aunt and uncle live in London, otherwise you would have no one to visit.”
It was not Elizabeth’s responsibility to correct Miss Bingley’s misapprehension, and she did not even make the attempt. “Yes, it is fortunate to have my aunt and uncle nearby, for I have missed their society.”
“Then off you must go,” said Miss Bingley, turning her back to make her way into the house.
With a shake of her head, Elizabeth departed, entering the carriage with the footman’s help, and settling herself within for the short drive to the Darcys’ house. The distance between the two houses was such that she could have walked it if she had chosen to do so, but given her presence in London and the attitudes of those who lived here, she thought it better that she used Mr. Bingley’s carriage. Thus, it was only moments later when she arrived.
Georgiana was on hand to greet her, and after an enthusiastic exchange they repaired to the inside of the house to visit. “Shall we play together, Elizabeth?” asked Georgiana as they walked.
“I should like that very much,” said Elizabeth, “though I am certain you shall outshine me as usual.”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, her tone reproachful. “I do not know why you persist in claiming you play ill, for your performance is delightful.”
“It is kind of you to say so, Georgiana,” replied Elizabeth. “But I know the limits of my talents, and more importantly, what
I have done with those talents I have been given.”
When they arrived in the music room to find it empty, Elizabeth turned to her friend with some interest and said: “Will Mrs. Annesley not attend us today?”
“She is indisposed this morning, so you must content yourself with my company.”
Elizabeth laughed and nodded. “Then I suppose you shall have to do.”
The friends spent some time at the pianoforte, talking and laughing as they played, for their efforts were marred by their jollity and continued banter. At times, they discussed the possibility of playing together before a company, but Georgiana attended so few functions that there did not seem to be an opportunity. When they had played for some time, they left the pianoforte and sat together, speaking of other subjects, each enjoying their visit. In time, Mr. Darcy made his appearance, welcoming Elizabeth with his typical gravity and sitting with them for a time.
As their meetings often did, this one turned to the subject of their homes, and this time Elizabeth spoke of some observations her aunt had made to her of Lambton the last time she visited. Familiar as they were with the subject, the Darcys were eager and knowledgeable, regaling Elizabeth with tales of their home.
“As I recall,” said Mr. Darcy, “Meryton is situated on a bit of flat ground, the same as many other towns in any part of the kingdom.”
“Perhaps it is,” said Elizabeth with a grin. “But is that not the best place to build a town?”
“More convenient, perhaps,” said Mr. Darcy, “but it depends on what one wishes. Lambton, for example, is built amid the hills of Derbyshire and features narrow streets and quaint buildings set close together. The main road into town is a little larger, I will grant you, but the rest of it is small and cobbled and cozy, full of character that many other towns lack.”
“I can see where the beauty might appeal,” said Elizabeth. “But is it not more practical to have wide-open thoroughfares for the movement of goods and people?”
“I would take care if I were you,” said Georgiana sotto voce. “If my brother suspects you of speaking ill of our home, he might bar you from our presence forever.”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Darcy, fixing his sister with an affable smile. “All places have their charms, though I will note some are not so appealing. But I am well aware that Miss Bennet may prefer her home. We all lean toward those things which are familiar.”
“Before I should presume to judge,” replied Elizabeth, “I should like to experience it, for it is difficult to decide otherwise.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Elizabeth paused, knowing what they might have sounded like to those in the Darcys’ position. It was a relief when the siblings’ demeanor changed not a jot. Georgiana even exclaimed:
“It would be wonderful if you could see our home, Elizabeth, for I know you would approve. Lambton is charming, and Pemberley is the dearest place in the world. And we are close to the Peaks, Dove Dale, and many other beauties besides.”
“My sister speaks the truth,” said Mr. Darcy, continuing to converse in his amiable tone. “I could show you at least a dozen places which would astonish you with their beauty, all within two days’ travel of my home.”
“Then you are fortunate, indeed,” said Elizabeth.
Though other comments came to her mind, Elizabeth refrained from voicing them, not wishing her hosts to think she wished to impose upon them. With this in mind, she changed the subject.
“Your aunt’s ball is only a few days away. I assume you will not attend, Georgiana?”
“No, Elizabeth,” replied Georgiana, making a slight face. “I am not yet out, so I shall not attend. Contrary to Miss Bingley’s assurances, I have no desire to do so.”
“That I can understand, Georgiana.” Elizabeth paused and grinned. “There are others who are counting the minutes until it begins. For those of us of a more rational bent, we will enjoy ourselves, and we thank your aunt for inviting us, but it does not consume our every waking moment.”
Mr. Darcy laughed and exchanged a rueful look with his sister. “For myself, I cannot imagine ever anticipating a ball with the fervency of these . . . others, to whom you refer. My aunt’s ball, however, is one of the more endurable, primarily because I appreciate her restraint with respect for the guest list.”
“She does not fill her ballroom until it is overcrowded?” asked Elizabeth.
“No, there are many who attend,” replied Mr. Darcy. “But she excludes many of a more objectionable nature.”
“I shall expect a full accounting, Elizabeth,” interjected Georgiana. “Though I shall not attend, I am still interested. And while I have made this request of William many times, it is still almost impossible to glean any information from him at all. I wonder if he keeps his eyes firmly shut the entire evening!”
While the girls laughed together at this characterization of her brother, Mr. Darcy accepted their mirth with continued unconcern. “That is because the subjects which interest you are of supreme indifference to me. What care I what the Countess of Clearwater is wearing to the ball?”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Elizabeth with a mock glare. “For shame sir, for such concerns are of paramount importance to a young lady!”
“Thank you, Elizabeth!” cried Georgiana.
Mr. Darcy was not affected one whit by their displeasure. “Yes, I assume it is, given how many times Georgiana has exclaimed her displeasure on this subject. Unfortunately for Georgiana, I have little knowledge of lace and fabrics, and my interest in them is limited to whether I find a dress suits a particular woman. I can describe the color in general, but most details are lost to me within moments.”
“You see what I must endure?” demanded Georgiana of Elizabeth.
“Do not concern yourself, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth, in stitches by now. “I shall assuage your curiosity as best as I am able.”
“Excellent!” replied Georgiana. “And I shall also expect you to account for your dance partners and the progression of the evening. If you are able, I should also like to hear of William’s doings, for he is as reticent about his activities as he is about speaking of the things which interest me.”
Georgiana shot her brother a look and added: “It should be no great difficulty, for I have it on good authority he spends most of the night standing to the side and seldom dances.”
With a laugh, and to Mr. Darcy’s unconcerned grin, Elizabeth said: “I shall take great care to observe all I can and make such a report as I am able, though you could ask your aunt too. If Mr. Darcy behaves like this at her ball, I am certain she will know and have words for him.”
The girls fell together laughing, while Mr. Darcy looked on, no little indulgence for his sister in his manner. When they had quieted enough for him to be heard, he addressed Georgiana, saying:
“Then let me assure you that I am not all unsociable behavior, Georgiana.” The gentleman turned to Elizabeth and said: “Miss Bennet, will you save me a dance that evening?”
Surprise by the application, Elizabeth was slow to respond, though at length she managed to say: “I should be pleased to dance with you, Mr. Darcy. Is there any specific dance you wished to reserve?”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes shot to Georgiana as if he expected her input, and when she only looked on with interest, he said: “Perhaps the second or the third?”
“Then whichever dance you prefer is yours,” replied Elizabeth.
“The third,” said Mr. Darcy.
“William never dances the first,” said Georgiana by explanation. “He says it creates expectations he does not mean to provoke in the woman he favors in such a way.”
“There is no need to explain, Georgiana,” replied Elizabeth. “I have no expectations.”
“Then you are a gem among women, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy in a quiet voice. “There are few of your like in all of London.”
Feeling flattered, Elizabeth nodded and again changed the subject. It was not long after when Elizabeth indicated that i
t was time for her to depart. The Darcys walked her to the door, Mr. Darcy handed her into the carriage, and she went away with her thoughts full of the siblings. Even Georgiana, she thought, would not have blamed her if she learned her brother commanded a greater share of Elizabeth’s musings during the ride back to Mr. Bingley’s house. So great was her distraction, that it stayed with her for the rest of the day.
“Well, well,” said Georgiana as Miss Bennet’s carriage passed out of sight down the street. “I had wondered if I would ever see the day that my brother was enamored of a woman.”
Startled from his thoughts as he was, Darcy turned to his sister, noting her playful grin. “It was a request for a dance, Georgiana—not a proposal.”
“From you, it may as well have been a proposal,” said a delighted Georgiana. “I have never seen you so much as glance at a woman twice, and here you are, set to dance with one a second time. If only you had asked for the first!”
Darcy turned to usher his sister into the house. “Would you have me make all the debutants in London into enemies of Miss Bennet?” asked he, deciding it was best to obfuscate a little.
“Do you suppose Elizabeth would care for the opinions of others?”
“No, she would not. But such a gesture, when all of society knows I avoid that dance, would be seen as a sign of favor and make her the target of many nasty comments.”
Georgiana’s eyes narrowed. “You have changed the subject, Brother.”
“I merely observed the first dance would not be advisable, a matter which you brought up, I will note.”
“Then let us return to the original matter. I believe you like Elizabeth, Brother. Will you not confirm it?”