The Netherfield Affair

by Penelope Swan

  “Indeed, madam,” agreed Bingley. “I assure you, I am as happy in the country as in town. They have each their advantages and I can be equally happy in either. However, it is a common tendency with my disposition that I should think fondly of one place when I am in the other.”

  “That is not what I would have supposed of you at all,” said Elizabeth, with some surprise.

  Bingley turned towards her. “Nay, Miss Bennet, do I disappoint you?” he asked with a smile.

  “I confess, I had expected you to have a greater steadfastness of spirit,” said Elizabeth, returning his smile.

  “I hope you will not think me fickle,” said Bingley hastily, his cheeks reddening slightly.

  Elizabeth wondered if he was referring to his affection for Jane.

  “I speak of generalities, not of particulars. With regards to certain things, I am always steadfast in my thoughts and affections,” said Bingley.

  Mrs Bennet smiled smugly at this pronouncement.

  “You mistake me, Mr Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “I did not mean to imply that you would be fickle in your affections or your loyalties. Simply that I had always imagined you to be someone who is fully engrossed with the enjoyment of the moment and is unlikely to be thinking wistfully of another.”

  “It is not unsurprising, perhaps, when one is in the country to be thinking of the greater excitements in town,” Darcy spoke up suddenly. “This is merely due to the fact that entertainment in the country can be quite simple and unvarying.”

  “Simple and unvarying?” said Mrs Bennet indignantly. “I assure you that there is quite as much variety in the country as there is in town. Why, between dining with the other families in Meryton and receiving the attentions of the officers in the militia stationed here, we are quite occupied with numerous pursuits.”

  Elizabeth blushed as she saw the two Bingley sisters cover their mouths with their hands and stifle laughter at her mother’s words. Darcy turned his back on them and walked away to the window, and stood there contemplating the view. Elizabeth felt the sting of his cold withdrawal, but her mother saw it instead as a sign of her triumph over him and she clasped her hands underneath her bosom and smiled complacently.

  “Er… I’m sure the gatherings in the country offer a great deal in the way of entertainment,” said Bingley into the awkward silence.

  Mrs Bennet sniffed. “Well, you have the right disposition to appreciate it, Mr Bingley,” she said, shooting a dark look at Darcy’s back. “Unlike some gentlemen who seem to think the country is nothing at all.”

  Elizabeth flushed again. “Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken,” she said quickly. “I believe Mr Darcy meant that there would be far more varying types of entertainment in town, such as the opera and the galleries and the ornamental parks like Vauxhall Gardens, which you must own to be true.”

  “The city can certainly afford more avenues of entertainment,” agreed Bingley, coming to her aid. “But I fancy that it claims a greater share of dangers too, for there always seem to be more accounts of plunders and murders in the city.”

  “Oh, but we have our fair share of infamous villains too,” cried Lydia suddenly. She took a step forwards and said eagerly, “Have you not heard the accounts of Wicked George the Highwayman? He has been plying the roads around the countryside here these past few months and Meryton is full of the talk of his exploits.”

  Elizabeth saw disgust on the faces of the Bingley sisters and detected the stiffening of Darcy’s shoulders, although he continued to contemplate the view outside the window. She rounded on her youngest sister and said in a warning voice, “Lydia—this is hardly the topic for polite company.”

  But Lydia was not to be silenced. “They say he is fearful handsome,” she continued breathlessly, “with a countenance that fair causes the ladies to swoon, and he cuts ever so fine a figure in his red coat, astride his dark horse. His charm is so powerful that no lady can resist him—indeed, they say that when Wicked George cries, ‘Stand and deliver!’ the ladies not only offer up their valuables gladly, but their virtues as well!”

  “Lydia!” hissed Elizabeth, as she observed the Bingley sisters’ shocked, contemptuous expressions. She glanced at her mother for support of her rebuke, but Mrs Bennet was smiling indulgently at her youngest daughter, obviously enjoying the titillating story.

  “I fancy many such a highwayman has been painted in a more romantic light than he deserves,” said Bingley cheerfully. “It would sorely disappoint the sensibilities of the population if they were to discover that he was nothing more than a common scoundrel.”

  “Oh no, Mr Bingley,” said Lydia earnestly. “I believe that Wicked George has had an unfortunate past, which has led him most unwillingly to his present occupation. The rumours say that he was born a gentleman and was treated most abominably and deprived of his rightful living. That is why you see him falling to the desperate situation he is in today.”

  Miss Bingley made a choking noise. “Defending a highwayman? Whatever next! There is no greater villainy than the brigand of the roads, who brings misery and suffering with every encounter.”

  “Such a description should hardly apply to Wicked George!” said Lydia, uncowed by the other lady’s condemnation. “It is known that he is uncommonly charming and conducts himself with great gallantry. Some would even compare him to that folk hero, Robin Hood. I’m sure that if I were to meet him, I would sympathise with his cause and assist him in improving his circumstances. I fancy that he would not impose on others were it not for the direness of his situation—and that is not his fault. ”

  “Lydia, that is enough,” said Elizabeth sharply. Turning to Bingley, she said, in a desperate attempt to turn the topic to safer avenues of conversation, “Mr Bingley, were you not talking once of giving a ball?”

  “A ball?” cried Lydia, all thoughts of Wicked George immediately forgotten. She turned excited eyes on Bingley. “Oh, I long for a ball!”

  “And I too,” added Kitty quickly.

  “I should be very glad to give a ball,” said Bingley with a warm smile. “As soon as your sister has recovered, you shall name the very day, if you please.”

  “And can it be a masquerade? For I hear that they are all the rage in London now, you know,” said Lydia eagerly. “We should dearly love to go to a masked ball!”

  Bingley bowed. “I shall certainly take your suggestion under consideration.”

  “Ah, thank you, sir—you do my girls a great honour,” beamed Mrs Bennet.

  And with that, the talk turned to more general things until it was time for Mrs Bennet and the younger Bennet girls to leave. Elizabeth saw her family depart with no small measure of guilty relief, then excused herself to re-join Jane. The ordeal of the visit and the interview in the drawing room had brought on a headache and she was glad of the peace and quiet in Jane’s room. She hoped to have at least an hour’s respite now before she would have to go back downstairs for dinner.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elizabeth’s hoped-for period of tranquillity was interrupted not an hour later, however, by the sound of an anguished cry. She and Jane looked at each other in surprise as they heard the sounds of running footsteps outside, followed by the babble of voices raised in alarm. Elizabeth ventured to open the bedroom door slightly and peer out.

  At the far end of the hallway, she could see Caroline Bingley waving her arms in an agitated fashion as several footmen and maids hovered around her. Mrs Hurst stood by her sister and was attempting to soothe her, with little success.

  “I assure you, Louisa, I have looked everywhere,” said Miss Bingley. “The brooch is gone!”

  “Perhaps you left it down in the drawing room, sister?” said Mrs Hurst. “You did remove it from your dress to allow everyone closer inspection when Mrs Bennet and her daughters were here.”

  “I have already sent two footmen down to search the place,” said Miss Bingley irritably. “They report that nothing has been discovered, neither on the table nor on the floor. The
brooch has simply disappeared!”

  “Well, perhaps you have mislaid it in your jewellery box,” suggested Mrs Hurst. “Come, let us go and have a look again.”

  So saying, she turned and led Miss Bingley back down the hallway towards their bedrooms. Elizabeth gently shut the door again and turned to look at Jane who was propped up against the pillows, her eyes avid with curiosity.

  “It appears that Miss Bingley may have lost an item of jewellery,” said Elizabeth.

  “Poor Miss Bingley!” said Jane. “Was it a very valuable piece?”

  “I imagine so,” said Elizabeth. “It appears to be the brooch that she was showing us all earlier. It is a handsome piece—an heirloom from her mother—shaped like violets, set with amethysts and diamonds.”

  “That sounds a handsome piece indeed,” said Jane. “I hope she will have some means of retrieving it.”

  “I am sure Miss Bingley has so many jewels, it will not signify much,” said Elizabeth carelessly, for she did not like the woman and found it difficult to feel much sympathy for her. Seeing Jane’s pained expression, however, she quickly changed the subject.

  Smoothing down the front of her gown, she presented herself to her sister and asked, “Will I commend myself to the company, do you think?”

  Jane smiled. “My dearest Lizzy, you look remarkably pretty, and Tilly has worked a feat of magic with your hair.”

  “Yes, it is good fortune indeed that she is so nimble with her fingers and so experienced with hairstyles,” said Elizabeth, turning to admire her hair in the mirror.

  She had been relieved when additional items from her wardrobe had arrived half an hour ago—the result of Bingley’s kind offer to have some of her things fetched from Longbourn—and when Tilly had brought them up, the maid had also offered to help arrange Elizabeth’s hair for dinner. Since her brown curls had become sadly tangled after her ramble over the countryside this morning, Elizabeth had gladly accepted the offer. Now she eyed the artful arrangement atop her head with delight. Tilly had expertly pinned fresh gardenia blooms in amongst her brown curls, interwoven with a length of silver ribbon. It gave her simple muslin gown a decidedly sophisticated air and she fancied that in her coiffure, at least, she would match the Bingley sisters’ finery downstairs.

  Tilly’s talents had not stopped there. When she had observed Elizabeth still suffering from the headache, she had hurried to her store of remedies and returned with a mixture of dried violet flowers which—upon chewing—had given Elizabeth rapid relief from the pain.

  The dinner bell rang and Elizabeth gave Jane a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room and making her way downstairs. As she was about to enter the front parlour, however, she paused outside the door. She heard her name mentioned. The voice was Miss Bingley’s, she realised, and the tone was more than a little malicious.

  “…and I could not believe her appearance, brother, when she presented herself in the breakfast parlour this morning. Did you see her gown?”

  “Six inches deep in mud!” came Mrs Hurst’s scandalised voice. “And her hair—so wild, so careless—I cannot comprehend how she could have allowed herself to make such a spectacle.”

  “Eliza Bennett is the type of girl who is full of a conceited sort of independence,” said Caroline Bingley. “She cares naught for the good opinion of others nor for the standards of respectability.” She gave a forced laugh, then her voice took on a taunting tone. “I fear that this morning’s little escapade may have affected your opinion of her ‘fine eyes’, Mr Darcy?”

  Darcy’s answer was so quiet that Elizabeth had to strain her ears to hear. “Not at all—they were brightened by the exercise.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Caroline Bingley spoke again. “Well, I was never so shocked as to see the way she looked when she arrived. But then it is hardly surprising when you consider all the Bennet girls and their want of conduct. Did you hear the youngest this afternoon?” Her voice rose in disgust. “The sentiments she expressed with regards to the highwayman! Indeed, I would not be surprised if the Bennet girls themselves are responsible for the theft of my brooch.”

  Elizabeth gasped, incensed at the accusation.

  “Yes, indeed, sister,” came Mrs Hurst’s voice. “It is just the sort of thing that the younger girls would consider a very good joke. You heard Miss Lydia talking of helping the wicked criminal with his exploits… for my part, it was practically a confession of intent!”

  Elizabeth could stand still and listen no longer. With her head held high, she marched into the room and had the pleasure of seeing both the Bingley sisters start guiltily as she was announced by the footman. They had the grace to blush and Elizabeth noticed a look of discomfort in the eyes of the gentlemen as well.

  In particular, she looked at Mr Darcy, recalling the reference that Miss Bingley had made to his comment about her eyes. It sounded like Mr Darcy had previously paid her a compliment, yet surely such a man could not have been admiring her! Nay, she was sure that he never looked upon a woman except to find fault. It must have been a misunderstanding—or perhaps a deliberate joke at her expense. Whatever the case might have been, she did not believe Mr Darcy capable of holding her in high regard.

  “Miss Bennet,” said Bingley, hurrying up to receive her. “I hope that your sister is feeling a bit better?”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Elizabeth, her manner thawing as she looked upon Mr Bingley’s amiable countenance. “She is a little better, I am glad to say, though still very weak and weary.”

  “No doubt she will continue to improve under your excellent care,” said Bingley, offering his arm to take her into dinner.

  Mr Darcy came forward to offer his arm to Miss Bingley and the Hursts made up the last of the party as they proceeded to the dining room. Dinner was a stilted affair. Notwithstanding Bingley’s enthusiastic efforts at conversation and pleasing attentions towards her, Elizabeth felt strongly the censure from the rest of the party. The Bingley sisters deliberately excluded her in their attempts at conversation and Mr Hurst was completely absorbed in his food and drink.

  Mr Darcy ate silently and offered little contribution to the talk at the table, though Elizabeth noticed that his dark eyes were often upon her. Again, she was puzzled by his behaviour and could not believe that it could stem from any sort of favourable regard. Perhaps he meant to frighten her or intimidate her, she thought, and, determined not to be cowed by him, she raised her chin and deliberately gave him a cool stare in return. She was gratified to see him look slightly discomfited and thereafter resolved to ignore him for the rest of the meal.

  Once the dessert course was completed, the ladies retreated to the drawing room and Elizabeth’s heart sank at the thought of having to spend any amount of time with the Bingley sisters, without the mitigating effect of their brother’s convivial company. Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst again ignored her and sat talking of acquaintances in town, knowing full well that she would be unable to join in the conversation as she had no knowledge of the persons or events they were discussing. Elizabeth noted their rudeness, but she cared too little for their approbation to be distressed by their behaviour. Nevertheless, she was relieved when the men re-joined them swiftly afterwards, and once coffee was served, she made her excuses once more and returned gratefully to Jane.

  The rest of the evening was spent quietly in Jane’s room, but as the hands of the clock neared midnight, Elizabeth felt herself grow restless. The rain had started again and its ceaseless pattering could be heard outside the windows, accompanied by the low moaning of the wind. It brought a feeling of chill melancholy—despite the cheerful blaze of the fireplace in the corner of Jane’s bedroom—and Elizabeth shivered as she stood by the windows, looking out on the dark landscape. She knew that she should retire to her own bedchamber soon—a room had been allocated to her at the far end of the hallway—but the thought of that empty room did not appeal.

  Perhaps a book would help to lull her quickly to slumber, Elizabeth th
ought. She bade Jane good night and made her way downstairs. She would visit the library, she decided, and choose a volume to take with her back to her room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth was met by a footman who showed her the way to the library. She entered the room quietly, surprised to see that many of the shelves were still unfilled. It appeared that Bingley had not yet amassed a significant collection of books. She perused the volumes on the shelves closest to her and had just extracted a few for closer inspection when she discerned two figures at the other end of the library. One was Mr Darcy, his tall figure and broad shoulders beneath the superfine of his bottle-green coat instantly recognisable, as he stood beside one of the bookcases. At his side was the ever faithful Miss Bingley, who seemed more intent on helping Darcy choose a book than in making a selection for herself.

  “This paltry collection is nothing to your collection at Pemberly, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley simpered. “What a delightful library you have there! It must be the work of many generations.”

  “It is. And I make every effort to add to it whenever I can.”

  “Pray let me select a volume for you.”

  “Thank you—but I always select my own books”

  “You make your choices uncommonly fast,” said Miss Bingley as she watched him take a book down from the shelf.

  “You’re mistaken. I make my choices rather slowly.”

  “And how can you contrive to read such large books?”

  He made no answer.

  “Does your sister Georgiana enjoy reading?”

  “I believe she does, when she is not amusing herself on the pianoforte.”

  “Ah, how I long to see her! I have never met anyone so accomplished for her age!”

  Darcy’s face took on a quiet pride at the mention of his sister. “That word is applied to many a lady who does not merit it fully, but in my sister’s case, I believe it may be justly deserved.”