by Jennifer Joy
To that, both of Mr. Bingley's sisters raised their hands to cover their gasps.
Miss Bingley recovered from her exaggerated shock first. "Oh no, that will not do. A great lady such as you staying at a common inn? No, it will not do. You simply must allow us to extend our hospitality to you. Please do us the honor of receiving you and Miss de Bourgh at Netherfield Park," she implored without so much as an inquiring glance at her brother, the master of the house.
The gentlemen in the room shifted their weight in their chairs. Even Mr. Darcy, who Elizabeth knew had recently returned to Netherfield Park — a guest at Mr. Bingley's request. What was Miss Bingley thinking in inviting Lady Catherine without the permission of her brother? Did she hope to befriend the elderly woman and fall into her good grace with the hopes of acquiring her blessing for her to marry Mr. Darcy? Elizabeth could think of no other reason. Miss Bingley was in for a rude awakening.
Poor Mr. Bingley was backed into a corner, and he was much too polite to claw his way out of it. Fortunately for him, Mr. Darcy gave Lady Catherine a reason to refuse Miss Bingley's offer.
"My aunt's visit to Meryton is so brief, another move would hardly be worth the trouble."
Lady Catherine arched her head back to better look down at him from the tip of her nose before turning her attention to Miss Bingley. "Your family is in trade, are they not?"
Miss Bingley jutted out her chin, the bane of her existence having been vocalized by her social superior. Her mottled complexion exposed the depth of the cut, but her tone revealed nothing untoward. "Our father dabbled in trade, but he soon grew bored with it when our fortune doubled."
Elizabeth bit her tongue and her lips, too, for good measure. For all she knew, Mr. Bingley's father was still involved in trade and, while he sought to give his children all the advantages of the gentle class, the taint of trade loomed over them no matter how badly Miss Bingley wished for it not to.
Lady Catherine paused, considering long enough for Mr. Bingley to lose his blush and relax his shoulders. Mr. Darcy's countenance remained unchanged, but Elizabeth noticed how he controlled his breath. She would learn to read him yet.
"Very well. I accept your offer," snapped Lady Catherine. Elizabeth swore she heard teeth grinding, but she was too busy watching Mr. Darcy to notice from whence the sound came. His fists clenched at his sides and the muscles at his jaw flinched. He was not pleased.
Jane said, "There is no better place than Netherfield Park for one who feels the slightest onset of an illness. Miss de Bourgh will be comfortable there." She would focus on the positive.
Mr. Bingley smiled at her, and her soft-spoken calmness gave him boldness. "We will do our best. I will have my housekeeper ready the rooms immediately for Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh."
Miss Bingley added, "You must have her prepare the guest room where Miss Bennet stayed. The view of the lake is incomparable."
Mr. Bingley shook his head, widening his eyes, but Miss Bingley gave him no opportunity to explain her suggestion nor his averse reaction to it.
"It did Miss Bennet well and we shall give Miss de Bourgh every advantage we have given our other guests," she added with a pointed look at Jane, who, Elizabeth noted with pride, met her haughty gaze levelly.
"Of course, Mr. Bingley would treat all of his guests with the same generosity he has always bestowed on his best of friends," said Jane in his defense and her own.
Mr. Bingley dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief while his sister sneered at Jane. He said, “I will leave it to Mrs. Harris to decide which rooms best suit our new guests.”
Elizabeth tried to imagine why he would become so upset at the suggestion that another lady stay in the same room Jane had occupied. Or was he upset because Miss Bingley suggested Jane was sickly?
Lady Catherine, not caring about anyone's comfort but her own, said, "I will have my servants pack my things to depart for Netherfield Park on the morrow. I do not want to disturb Anne until she is sufficiently recovered."
The decision made, the first party of callers rose to take their leave, as did Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Mr. Bingley remained seated, his eyes fixed on Jane.
He only realized he was the only person sitting when Miss Bingley hissed at him. "Charles, we must return to Netherfield Park. There are many preparations to be made."
“Lady Catherine is not coming until tomorrow.”
Mrs. Hurst insisted. “There is much to do.”
Mr. Bingley appeared willing to defy his sisters and stay for the remainder of his call, but they were already walking out of the parlor.
Elizabeth could not hear what Jane whispered to him, but it returned his good humor and he joined his family.
Mr. Darcy stood to one side of the door, his gaze beckoning Elizabeth to draw closer.
“Does Mrs. Bennet know the nature of Anne’s illness?” he asked in a voice so quiet, Elizabeth strained her ears to hear.
She was quick to reassure him. “No—”
Before she could say anything more, Lady Catherine’s shrill tone echoed to them from the front of the house. “Darcy! Darcy, I need you.”
His eyes searched her face, just as she searched for the answers he could not give her then. And with a bow, Mr. Darcy left her to attend to Lady Catherine, leaving Elizabeth to wonder at the success of her plan.
Betsy entered the room, her arms laden with wrapped packages. “Mr. Darcy left these for you, Mr. Bennet.”
Father cheered greatly on removing the paper, although some of Mr. Darcy’s selections were decidedly odd in his opinion. Mary and Elizabeth were quick to take said tomes off his hands.
Now that the prized novel was in her possession, she tried to take as much pleasure in it as she would have the previous evening. Sitting closer to the light of the fire, she read the first paragraph several times before giving in to the meditations of her heart to stare blankly at the page until the words blurred and she saw only Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 9
Elizabeth sipped her cooling tea and pushed her breakfast roll around on her plate. Excitement buzzed around the table. The day of the regimental parade had finally arrived, but she could not share in Mother’s and her sisters’ anticipation. Father, having the excuse of new literature to peruse, would stay at home with his books.
A piece of bread flew across the table and bounced off her forehead. Only Lydia would be so indecorous as to throw food.
"Be happy, Lizzy! You are being a kill-joy and shall ruin our day," Lydia pouted. She, of course, held hopes that an officer who was secretly rich and titled would see her at the parade and sweep her off to Gretna Green so they could marry before Kitty, then continue on to his castle where servants would wait on her hand and foot all day.
Elizabeth forced a smile. There was no need to spoil everyone's fun merely because of her momentary lapse of cheer.
Mother considered her, growing more serious the longer she did so. "If only Mr. Darcy would propose. I do hope Lady Catherine took my warning seriously and does not spread the news of his engagement to Miss de Bourgh around the village."
"He is not engaged, Mama," Elizabeth said, though the damage that could be done if the falsehood spread through Meryton was ever present in her mind. He would be pressed to honor it. It only remained to be seen whose expectations he chose to honor. His family’s and society's demands, which he had been raised to hold of the highest importance. Or his own feelings … and hers (of which she had given him precious little encouragement).
"Well, I declare I would be very put out in her situation," said Lydia, greedily drinking her chocolate.
"Why is that?" Mother poured more tea around the table.
"With Lady Catherine and her sickly daughter as guests at Netherfield Park, they have the perfect opportunity to arrange a compromise. Nothing can stop them from trapping Mr. Darcy and taking the choice of his bride away from him entirely."
The bite of sausage Mother held dropped from her fingers, landing in her chocolate and staini
ng the white tablecloth. "Why had I not thought of that?" she exclaimed, dabbing at the front of her dress absentmindedly. "Oh, if only I could have arranged for Lizzy to fall ill at Netherfield Park as I did Jane. It worked out quite well for you, dear," she beamed at Jane, who looked horrified Mother would compromise the health of another daughter for the sake of an engagement. At least, that was what Elizabeth thought.
"Mother, I doubt Lady Catherine is as mercenary as you are in your efforts to marry her offspring." Now, that was not entirely true. Elizabeth had seen the cold glint in Lady Catherine's eyes and the manipulative calculating when she accepted Miss Bingley's presumptuous offer of hospitality. She just might resort to something desperate to trap Mr. Darcy to do something he would not otherwise do.
Elizabeth's heartbeat echoed through her empty chest.
Mother stirred her spoon in her cup, the forgotten bit of sausage bumping against her upper lip when she sipped her chocolate. Draining the contents of her cup, meat and all, Mother announced. "I will simply have to ask Miss de Bourgh what her intentions are toward Mr. Darcy. Suppose she is opposed to the match, and she would not participate in her mother's schemes?"
"No, Mama, you must not. You have not been introduced and she would take offense if you speak of her affairs." Elizabeth could only imagine the repercussions of such a bold act. No matter how poorly Lady Catherine had behaved — and Elizabeth knew she would have been much worse without the presence of her nephews to subdue her — they ought not return like for like.
Mother waved off her warning. "Nonsense, Lizzy. Today is the parade and surely Miss de Bourgh will take pleasure in watching the handsome officers march down the street in their dashing uniforms. It would be nothing for me to chance across her path, make her acquaintance, and mention Mr. Darcy."
Mary asked, "How do you plan to rid her of Lady Catherine?"
Mother's eyes widened, but she shrugged. "I will think of something. I usually do."
After an initial burst of panic, Elizabeth gathered her wits. She knew Mother too well to believe she could be dissuaded once she had set her mind on a purpose. She had to intercept. She would have to beat Mother into Meryton and convince Mr. Tanner to encourage Miss de Bourgh to watch the parade from the comfort of her room. So long as her room faced the street … She would have to find out.
Mother hurried to finish her meal, and Elizabeth pushed her plate away. She could not eat a bite with the knots tying up her stomach. One altercation between Mother and Lady Catherine had been enough. Elizabeth dreaded to think of what would happen should the two ladies meet again.
Her sisters, wearing their best dresses and looking their most presentable, would ride in the carriage with Mother. They would arrive before the parade to give Mother enough time to go to Aunt Philips and then to the haberdashery to discern what the gossip concerning Miss de Bourgh was. Like a predator, Mother was sizing up her prey so as to better take her down.
Elizabeth dashed upstairs to change her dress and don her pelisse. The sky was blue, but the air felt heavy with humidity. Looking out of the window, Elizabeth saw storm clouds coming their way. She hoped it would not rain until after the parade. It would be a pity to muddy all those polished boots the militia prided themselves in shining into mirrors reflecting everything and everyone they walked past.
Straightening her bonnet and tying the ribbon loosely around her chin, she skipped down the stairs and nearly ran into Mrs. Hill as she passed the door to the dining room.
She reached out to ensure herself the elderly woman was unharmed. "I am sorry, Mrs. Hill. I did not expect to find you here."
"It is I who should apologize, Miss Elizabeth. I never intended for Mrs. Bennet to use Miss de Bourgh’s illness against her, nor of the supposed engagement to Mr. Darcy. I fear this is all my fault. She will ruin everything for you." Mrs. Hill twisted her hands together, her chin quivering.
"It is hardly your fault, Mrs. Hill. Please do not concern yourself."
"She must be stopped, all the same, or she will ruin everything for you and Miss Jane."
"Think nothing of it, I beg you. I plan to speak to Mr. Tanner to encourage Miss de Bourgh to observe the parade from the comfort of her room."
"Does her room face the street?" asked Mrs. Hill.
Elizabeth did not know, but she was not about to admit as much to Mrs. Hill just when the housekeeper had begun to calm herself. "I suspect it does. If not, I can inquire if there is an unoccupied room at the inn which could serve as her private observation room."
Mrs. Hill nodded slowly. "It could work."
"It has to, and so it will."
"Very well, Miss Elizabeth. You have calmed my worries and I thank you for it. When you return, I would love to hear about the parade. I am unable to get away to see it, but I should very much like to hear your account of it if you do not mind indulging an old woman."
Elizabeth smiled at her. "Of course, I shall remember every detail and relate them to you over cake in the kitchen."
Mrs. Hill bemoaned, "Miss Lydia raided the larder last night and ate what was left. I had hoped to save some for Mrs. Thorne. She loves my cakes." Cook’s meals were delicious, but the cakes Mrs. Hill’s grandmother had taught her were better.
Elizabeth laughed. "No matter. Too much cake would only give me a stomach ache anyway and Mrs. Thorne is forever saying to resist our weaknesses, of which your cake is decidedly her weakness."
With that, Elizabeth left Longbourn feeling much more optimistic about her plan to keep Miss de Bourgh indoors and thus prevent Mother from interfering where she did not belong.
Thunder boomed and echoed over the fields. Elizabeth looked up at the dark clouds rolling toward Meryton. While rain would suit her purpose perfectly, she was not ready for the good weather to depart them yet. The ominous clouds filled her with a sense of foreboding so that she wished them away all the more enthusiastically. Her plan would meet with success, and that was all she would allow herself to think. What could possibly go wrong?
Darcy saw her slender figure ahead, and he tapped the sides of his stallion with the soles of his boots.
Richard kept up with him and soon they had overtaken Miss Elizabeth. While Darcy had hoped to meet her, he would have preferred for her to walk with a companion. Meryton was a quiet village, and Miss Elizabeth was liked by all, but the militia had brought their usual troubles with them (Was Wickham's murder not enough evidence of that?) and they had yet to depart. Until they did, Darcy wished Miss Elizabeth would not expose herself to unnecessary danger.
She turned to look at them, her cheeks dimpling and her eyes sparkling when she saw him. It was a welcome sight after his disastrous call with Aunt Catherine the previous afternoon.
Unfortunately, in true Darcy fashion, he said what was on his mind instead of what he ought to have said. "What are you doing walking unaccompanied?"
He heard Richard cluck his tongue.
Miss Elizabeth seemed to understand his meaning. Instead of assuming he meant the worst, as was her fashion, she widened her smile. "I am not doing anything I have not done before without harm befalling me."
Good. She had understood his intention. "I do not doubt your ability to defend yourself. I know you to possess an ear-piercing scream and a set of sharp teeth." He rubbed his fingers which had fallen victim to her fierce bite in Bingley's library only weeks before. "I do, however, wish you to always be safe and you cannot deny that there is strength in numbers."
"It is kind of you to concern yourself over my safety, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. Now, tell me, please, what brings you two gentlemen to Meryton? It is too early for the parade."
Darcy scoffed. The mischievous arch in her brow told him how aware she was of his disinterest in anything related to the militia. "I must pay a call on my cousin."
The joy which he had grown accustomed to seeing adorn her beautiful face disappeared.
"You aim to call on Miss de Bourgh?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"Yes. I have some matters
of a personal nature to discuss with her."
Now she wore a frown.
Richard sighed loud enough for Darcy to hear it. What? He spoke the truth. Nothing more and nothing less.
Elizabeth looked directly in front of her as they walked. "Lady Catherine will be content to receive you, no doubt."
"I aim to placate her while attending to Anne." If they would ever have peace in their household, assuming Elizabeth would eventually agree to marry him, he must put Aunt Catherine in her place in such a way she was content with it. There was no other way.
Richard groaned. What? It was to Elizabeth's benefit that Aunt Catherine lose interest in persecuting her. She would make Elizabeth miserable, and Darcy was not willing to risk losing her due to his misbehaving relatives.
Elizabeth pinched her lips together. The bite in the winter breeze kissed her face with charming vivacity.
"That will please your aunt as well as it will please society. I wish you all happy." Her words were as sharp as a sword and cut his pride where it was most vulnerable.
"You do not believe my will to be stronger than the impositions put upon me by my aunt or a society for which I could not care less?" Parry for parry, Miss Elizabeth.
The buildings around the square faded into a blur, but he noticed every stray hair escaping from Elizabeth's pins and every fiery, gold fleck in her smoldering eyes. She judged him now just as she had judged him at Bingley's ball. Once again, he had misread her reaction to suit his preference. What he had believed to be her lively nature was now clearly anger. But two could play at that game.
“I believe your responsibility for others will outweigh your own desires … whatever they may be.”
“You doubt my wishes when I have stated them plainly to not only you, but to your father? Do you think me so weak?”
“Weak, no. The binds your family places on you—”
Darcy shoved his fingers through his hair. “Family ties such as you describe have no power over my spoken promise.”