by Meg Osborne
“Good evening, Father,” she said, sliding into a seat opposite Mr Bennet’s desk, which was as usual piled high with papers and books. He glanced up as she entered, and slid one particular paper beneath a book, but not quickly enough that it missed Elizabeth’s notice, and she questioned him on it.
“What is the matter?”
Mr Bennet’s features looked a little drawn, and suddenly Elizabeth felt her father seemed older to her than he ever had before. He smiled, wanly, and reached the letter out to her.
“I ought to have known it was pointless attempting to conceal anything from my quickest daughter. Here, Lizzy, read for yourself. We are to have a visitor.” His lips quirked, in either amusement or distaste, Elizabeth could not quite tell which. “A cousin of mine, a Mr Collins. His arrival is due any day, and I am sure will bring with it a plethora of new interests and delights.” His dry tone belied the enthusiasm of his words and drawing a bracing breath, Lizzy's eyes scanned the contents of the short letter.
Dear Sir, the disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness...
“Oh.” She folded it neatly, along its crease, and passed it back to her father.
“Oh indeed,” Mr Bennet said, his features relaxing into a grim smile. “But you must not let a distant cousin’s interference concern you, Elizabeth, dear. I am sure between you, my daughters might successfully conspire to wed him, if he is deemed worthy, or run him off, if not. Did you wish to speak to me on anything in particular, or were you seeking refuge from your mother?”
Not wishing to burden her father any further, and suddenly feeling sure her concern over Mr Darcy was unnecessary indeed, Elizabeth smiled, conspiratorially.
“Sanctuary and silence,” she said.
“That's my girl.” Mr Bennet slid a book across the desk towards her and cracked open his own, and peace reigned over the readers for the rest of the evening.
***
“You will come, won’t you, Mr Darcy?”
It was the sudden pause that followed Caroline’s comment that alerted Darcy to the fact that a question had been pointed his way and demanded an answer, and he hurried out an affirmative nod. He had managed to allow Caroline’s nasal voice to recede into the background, much like the buzz of an insect one might pay little attention to but cannot entirely ignore. He cared little for Hertfordshire’s society, and still less for Caroline’s own personal opinions of Hertfordshire’s society, which she seemed intent on sharing with the room. Her opinions took on additional venom with the recent visit of the Bennet sisters, and Darcy was certain that, had Bingley not contradicted his sister’s assessment of the Bennets with a “really, Caroline, I think that rather unkind,” that she would have gone still further in discussing them. Instead, she had turned her accounts to other neighbours she had had the misfortune of meeting during their short stay, and Darcy had turned his attention inwards, sorting through his own thoughts at leisure, and merely making a sound here and there to suggest his polite adherence to Caroline’s conversation.
“Assemblies are always most enjoyable!” Charles remarked, and the word was just enough to give Darcy note of precisely what it was he had agreed to attend.
“An assembly?” he asked, his heart sinking.
“At Meryton,” Caroline said, as if the answer should be obvious. “It is to take place early next week, and we really ought to make an appearance.” Her expression softened into a simpering smile she directed full-force towards Darcy. “Of course, if you would rather not attend then we shall not think of going without you.”
“Oh -” Bingley protested.
“Nonsense,” Darcy said, shortly, putting both Charles and his sister at ease. “If you had planned to attend, then it will be my pleasure to accompany you.” The effort it cost him to ground out the word pleasure left it sounding little more than a growl, but his vehemence went entirely unnoticed by either of his friends.
“There’s a fellow!” Bingley said, beaming at him. “We shall have a jolly time. Capital dancing, good food, good company! What more could a man wish for?”
A little peace and quiet, Darcy thought, sourly, regretting his decision to come to Hertfordshire at all. Bingley was his usual self but had said little enough of Jane Bennet to invite question, and Darcy was not about to blunder into the situation until he was certain his friend’s heart was well and truly lost. At present it might merely be an interest borne of recent acquaintance. In which case the assembly might accomplish my purpose for me, he rationalised, realising that the evening would not be a complete disaster, if it were managed well. Bingley would see Jane Bennet again, certainly, and no doubt they would be forced to dance together, but he would also see all the other beauties Hertfordshire had to offer. Darcy’s lips quirked in amusement. Surely there must be at least one or two young ladies pretty enough to attract his friend’s attention. The face of another Miss Bennet swam briefly before Darcy’s own eyes, and he blinked to clear the image. When he looked up again, Caroline Bingley was watching him carefully, from the corner of her eye.
“How is Georgiana, Mr Darcy?” she asked, seizing upon a subject she had calculated would draw Darcy into conversation, and smiling a slow, secretive smile, as if her knowledge of his sister equated to a level of affection that did not, in fact, exist between them. Darcy groaned internally. Caroline Bingley had been doing this more and more, on the occasions they had chanced to be together, and he was growing rather tired of her acting as if she had any claim on his time, temper or affection. She was his friend's sister and a lady, but beyond that Darcy cared little for her. If only there were some way he could alert her to that fact without causing offence...
“Georgiana is well, thank you, Miss Bingley.”
Caroline flinched a little at his use of her formal name, and Darcy made a mental note to do it more often, in hopes that she might take the hint.
“And yet you have not brought her with you!” She tutted. “Poor Georgie, alone again. You might have brought her, Mr Darcy. Imagine what a fine party we might have made, you and me, my brother and your sister.” She paused a moment, and then laughed, a silly, affected little laugh, as if she had just that moment realised that her grouping of their names made the four friends sound like two couples. Darcy did not join in her laughter and turned pointedly towards Charles.
“Have you been out shooting much? I must say the grounds you have here are quite fine, although not terribly extensive.” He did not mention they were also a prime racetrack for wayward neighbouring ladies to roam about in as if they were children, and not ladies of age who ought to know better how to behave.
“Quite extensive enough for one to lose one’s bearings!” Charles said, with a grin. Darcy had confessed to getting turned around, in hopes to explain his long absence from the house whilst putting paid to any speculation that he had been delayed by his association with the Bennets. He did not wish Charles - or rather, Charles’ sister - to draw any conclusions on that front, fearing Caroline’s acerbic tongue would be more than he could bear.
“Indeed,” Darcy said, grimly. “Nonetheless, I think we might have some sport tomorrow, if the weather holds. Or if not shooting, perhaps we might ride?” He stretched his legs out beneath the table. “I am aching for some exercise, and to be at last out of London it strikes me that we might as well make the most of the countryside.”
“Indeed, and leave me alone to fend for myself,” Caroline said, sourly.
“You are welcome to join us, Caroline, if you wish it!” Bingley said, with a sly wink towards Darcy. “You’ve mastered riding astride, have you? And your shooting arm is well-trained?”
Caroline scowled at her brother and noisily pushed her chair back from the table.
“If you are intent on abandoning me, gentlemen, I will perhaps find my way to Meryton, in hopes of seeking some more appropriate company.”
“Capital plan, sister!” Bingley said, shooting her an apologetic grin. “You must take th
e carriage, and save all your energy for dancing, for I’ve no doubt you shall have a line of suitors right out to the door, come the assembly.”
His apology appeared to have smoothed Caroline’s ruffled feathers, for Darcy saw her features lift in the tiniest smile as she bid them good evening and left the room.
The door was scarcely closed behind her when Bingley turned back to his friend.
“Now, Darcy, I might ask you what I meant to, upon hearing of your plans to visit us. I know I made a fool of myself in London -”
He lifted his gaze nervously, but Darcy said nothing, made no acknowledgement of the fact or fiction of his friend’s comment. Bingley had not been a fool, Darcy and Caroline had seen to that, but he had certainly been quick to lose his heart to someone utterly unfit for him. Caroline had succeeded in removing them to Hertfordshire before any more could come of the flirtation.
“I wonder -” Charles hesitated. “Did you think Miss Bennet an elegant, accomplished sort of person?”
“In the quarter-hour we spent together?” Darcy could not resist the slight sarcastic note that crept into his words. “In mixed company, I might remind you, and without a single chance to speak to one another directly?”
“Yes.” Charles nodded, fervently. “I mean, her sister is quite, quite lovely too, but Miss Jane Bennet...” He trailed off, the look of rapture that crossed his face quite saying all that his lips did not.
“She is quite pretty, I suppose. Rather more so than her sister, but -” Darcy was surprised at the line his thoughts had taken and clamped his lips closed lest he share them aloud. Rather more so than her sister, but lacking somewhat in the intelligence, the wit, that gives even plain features vitality...
“I know,” Charles sighed, taking his own meaning from Darcy’s sudden silence. “I know, she is not half as pretty as the elegant young ladies you have so recently left behind you in London. There are probably half a dozen more handsome in Hertfordshire, even, that you shall take great delight in pointing out to me at the assembly. But I cannot help my heart, Darcy. I think Miss Jane Bennet the brightest, loveliest, most charming young lady I have ever met.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed, but this time he was not entirely sure whether his anxiety concerned the direction his friend’s heart was taking, or his own.
Chapter Five
“Well, Mr Collins, what do you think of our home?” Mrs Bennet put an unhealthy emphasis on her final two words as if to highlight to their cousin their moral right to Longbourn, whoever its ownership would cede to upon Mr Bennet’s demise.
“Lovely!” Mr Collins beamed, obsequiously, at each of his cousins, in turn, his wide grin faltering only slightly when he met Elizabeth’s unwavering gaze. “Quite, quite lovely!”
“Come, Collins, we shall take a turn of the grounds.” Mr Bennet’s voice was resigned, but stalwart, brooking no disagreement. He caught Elizabeth’s eye as he passed, and she read his motives well enough in his otherwise impassive features. He wished to separate his cousin from his wife before that lady forgot subtlety altogether and told Mr Collins precisely what she thought of him.
He might have been an utter gentleman, handsome, well-mannered, and charming, but still, Mama would have despised him for “robbing us of our home!”, Elizabeth thought, wryly recalling Mrs Bennet’s wails upon her hearing of Mr Collins arrival. Whilst Elizabeth had wondered at the wisdom of delaying until that very morning to tell her mother of their anticipated guest, she now recognised his plan, which had been to deny his wife as much time to dwell as possible. If she had heard of it a week before, when Mr Bennet did, the entire house would have been in extravagant mourning, and Mrs Bennet would have been upset enough to take to her bed. She marvelled at her father’s canny ability to manage his lady wife, in all her moods, and wondered anew at their ever finding enough in common to suggest to them marriage as a preferable state.
“Vile man!” Mrs Bennet whispered, as soon as the door closed behind the two gentlemen.
“Mama!” Lydia giggled.
“You cannot despise Mr Collins for the accident of his birth,” Mary began, slipping almost unconsciously into the tone of voice she normally reserved for sermonising and rendering her pronouncement just as easily ignored. “After all, it is the way of the world that property must pass to sons...”
“What a great misfortune that none of us are sons, then, Mary,” Elizabeth said, swiftly stopping her middle sister in her tracks. She watched Jane help Mrs Bennet into a chair, and the girls gathered around their mother to be of some support, or, in Lydia and Kitty’s case, to join in her despair.
“Come, Mama,” Jane said, soothingly. “Mr Collins is not so very bad.”
“Not so very bad!” Mrs Bennet wailed. “He is reprehensible! Did not you see the avaricious way he glanced around the room, as if he were already claiming our belongings before we have relinquished the use of them?” An altogether more horrifying thought occurred to her, and she bolted upright. “Perhaps we ought not to let him and Mr Bennet alone, and out of sight. What if some misfortune were to occur -”
“I hardly think Mr Collins capable of murder,” Elizabeth remarked, drily. “Even with so great a prize as Longbourn in the balance.” She glanced at her sisters. “Kitty, might you perhaps fetch some tea to settle Mama’s nerves?”
“My nerves?” Mrs Bennet screeched. “How can they ever be settle with that - that - interloper here. How long is he to stay, Jane, did he even mention it? I wager he plans on not setting foot from the house until your father is dead in his grave, that he might evict us within the hour of my dear Mr Bennet’s final breath. Oh! We shall be homeless, destitute, forgotten!”
“Father is not dead yet, Mama,” Jane reminded her mother. “He is still quite well in mind and body and doubtless has many more years ahead of him. You must not worry, so, for it serves no purpose other than to upset you.”
“Ought I not to be upset? Oh Jane, Lizzy, you cannot possibly understand how trying it is, to be the mother of daughters. If only you were married, if I knew you to be safely wed, or engaged at least, then I might rest from my labours...” Mrs Bennet took a long breath as if it were she, and not her husband, on the very verge of death.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, lifting a comical glance to her sister, and was gratified to see even saintly Jane’s lips quirking in amusement.
“Come, now, Mother,” she said, in an effort to cheer Mrs Bennet out of her decided devastation. “You must not worry the children.” At times like this it could be a suitable trick to remind Mrs Bennet that two of her daughters were young enough, still, to require her concern, and whilst Lydia and Kitty were absent they might be referred to as “children” without voicing their complaint.
“Oh, Kitty! Oh, Lydia! What is to become of us?”
Instead of working, Jane’s plan had the opposite effect of rendering Mrs Bennet almost hysterical at the thought of her youngest children being ousted from their home without prospect.
“We really ought to think about happier things,” Elizabeth said, at length, trying to bring the matter to a conclusion as quickly as possible, before the whole house was lost to Mrs Bennet's “low mood”, which was never quiet, nor easy to ignore.
“Indeed, to despair is to forsake the Lord -” Mary began.
“Be quiet, Mary!” Elizabeth hissed. Glancing around the room seeking inspiration, she noticed a hair ribbon left on the mantel and seized upon it. “Think, Mama, there is the Meryton assembly in just a few short days. How can you despair when there is such a gathering upon us?”
“Ye-es...” Mrs Bennet conceded, turning the matter over. With a loud sniff, peace was restored, and she sat upright once more, reaching for Jane’s hand and pulling her eldest daughter closer. “You must continue to win Mr Bingley’s affections for surely he is an angel sent to save us all from this plight. Think, Jane, if you were to marry Mr Bingley, his fortune might secure us!”
“Marry Mr Bingley - Mama, we are scarcely acquainted.”
&n
bsp; “What consequence is that?” Mrs Bennet scoffed. “I had met your father but twice when we arranged to marry and see how happy we are all these years later!”
Elizabeth bit her tongue, whether to prevent herself from laughing or rising in contradiction she could not be certain. She met Jane’s gaze, who had looked directly to her for help, and sought to offer some.
“I am sure Mr Bingley is quite, quite in love with you already, Jane, although you are right that you do not know him altogether well. Perhaps he is as awful as Mr Collins!” Mrs Bennet’s eyes narrowed, and Elizabeth hurried to undo her comment. “But I doubt he can be. He seems to me to be a most amiable gentleman, almost deserving of a wife as wonderful as our dear Jane.” She smiled warmly at her sister, Mrs Bennet’s histrionics momentarily forgotten. “I give you leave to like him, even if his choice of companions leaves a little to be desired.”
“Companions?” Mrs Bennet frowned. “Oh, you mean that Mr Darcy, I suppose. Well, I shall be intrigued to see him for myself at Meryton. Do you suppose he will attend?”
This thought had not occurred to Elizabeth, and she paused for a moment before replying.
“I imagine he might, as he is to be Mr and Miss Bingley’s guest.” She did not know whether this realisation encouraged her into more or less enthusiasm for the upcoming festivity. It would certainly be interesting to compare the two newest arrivals to Hertfordshire side by side. Elizabeth swallowed a laugh and turned her face away that her thoughts might not be read in her features. Mr Collins and Mr Darcy are both utterly dreadful but in entirely different ways. I wonder how they will manage one another!
***
“What house is that?”
Darcy pointed to an estate ahead of them, and Bingley wrangled his horse so that he might, at last, regard it and answer his friend’s question.