A Favorite Daughter

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A Favorite Daughter Page 7

by P. O. Dixon


  “Miss Lucas,” said Mr. Bingley, bowing. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my brother-in-law and my sister, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.” After the refined couple acknowledged Charlotte in the usual way, Mr. Bingley continued. “And this is my sister Caroline.”

  “Miss Bingley,” Charlotte said, with a slight curtsy. “It is a pleasure.”

  “I am sure,” the young lady responded, her voice dismissive and her eye contact nonexistent.

  What a striking contrast existed between the brother and sister. The former was everything that was amiable, and the latter presented herself as being above her company. Not that Charlotte cared, for that meant she would not have to give herself the trouble of speaking with the pretentious young lady for the rest of the evening.

  Besides, Charlotte was much more interested in the brother, whose eyes were now fixed on Jane. By now, a line was forming by other guests who were anxious to meet the new neighbors, including Mrs. Bennet and her two younger girls. They had left Jane sitting alone on the sofa to fend for herself. Seeing this, Charlotte abandoned the spot she had staked beside her father and went to sit with her friend. She was more than happy to be Jane’s eyes for the evening if that was what was required to assure the latter’s comfort.

  The next hours passed off pleasantly enough with most of the single young ladies busily engaged, at the encouraging of their eager mammas, vying for Mr. Bingley’s attention. Charlotte was not one of them. She much preferred remaining by Jane’s side, recounting what she would of what was happening all around.

  “Tell me more about my new neighbors,” Jane said. “I am sure you have exhausted the topic of Mr. Bingley himself, and I am convinced he is just what a young man ought to be.”

  Charlotte nodded in concurrence. “Indeed. He is sensible, good-humored, lively. I never saw such happy manners! He is so much at ease, with such perfect good breeding!”

  “Yes—but what of his sisters?”

  “Oh! I never saw two such miserable creatures in all my life. They look as though they would rather be any place but here. I imagine they must find our crude country manners rather appalling.”

  “Surely they are not so awful as that. Perhaps they are ill at ease when it comes to recommending themselves to strangers.”

  “That is precisely what I supposed you would say, dearest Jane. You never find fault in anyone. All the world is good, in your opinion.”

  “I fear you give me too much credit, dear Charlotte. It is not that I am incapable of finding fault in others; it is just that I dare not judge others too quickly lest I be judged myself and found wanting.”

  “I daresay nobody who really knows you would ever find you wanting, Jane.”

  “Now that is precisely what I supposed you would say. Next to Lizzy, you are my most ardent supporter.” She held her hand out desiring Charlotte to claim it, which the latter did. Jane gave Charlotte’s hand a gentle squeeze. “How can I thank you for remaining by my side this evening? I am sure I would not have enjoyed myself half so much were it not for you.”

  “Jane, you must know I will always be here for you as long as it is in my power. Soon enough, our dearest Lizzy shall return from Kent, and won’t that be a cause for joy?”

  Jane nodded and smiled. “Indeed. I can hardly wait for my sisters to return.”

  “Oh, my!” Charlotte cried, squeezing Jane’s hand a little tighter.

  “What is the matter?”

  “Jane, my dear, I did not want to say anything before, but now I absolutely must, for I believe you have a most ardent admirer this evening.”

  “Oh, Charlotte, be serious.”

  “Indeed, I am very serious. There is a certain young man who has rarely taken his eyes off you since he entered the room. And you will never guess who he is.”

  “I am sure I have no idea. Pray, do you mean to keep me in suspense?”

  “He is none other than Mr. Bingley,” said Charlotte. “Heavens! I believe he is coming this way.”

  “What should I do?” Jane cried.

  “Why! smile, of course.”

  The next morning, the manner in which the Netherfield party spoke of the gathering at Lucas Lodge was sufficiently characteristic of how each of them had behaved.

  “I have never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in my life,” said Bingley. Had there been dancing, he was sure he would have danced with almost every maiden in the room, such was their eagerness in putting themselves forward. However, good food and delightful conversation were the order of the evening, a diverting combination that suited him just as well.

  “You speak only for yourself, I am sure,” cried Miss Caroline Bingley.

  “Surely you jest, Caroline. Everybody was most kind and attentive to us.” Indeed, for his part, there had been no formality or stiffness. By the end of the evening, he felt acquainted with all the room.

  Miss Bingley scoffed. “I speak only the truth. But, of course, you would not have noticed the lack of good breeding and proper decorum that was so rampant. Thank heavens, Mr. Darcy was not there to witness such an appalling display.”

  Mrs. Hurst nodded. “I agree. I heard more than a few women speak of Charles’s fortune, and what a good thing it would be if one of their daughters should make such an advantageous match. Can you imagine the manner of distraction that Mr. Darcy’s presence would have been with his fortune of ten thousand pounds?”

  “I grant you the hope of an advantageous alliance may very well have been the favorite wish of many of the young ladies in attendance. However, there was one among them who surely escaped such censure—Miss Bennet,” Bingley asserted.

  His heart slammed against his chest, merely saying her name out loud. Having kept her in his sights from the moment he first laid eyes on her, meeting her had been his primary objective, even as he attended everyone in his path who, unwittingly or not, stalled his efforts to do so. When at last, the way was clear, he strode directly over to where Miss Bennet sat and asked Miss Lucas for the pleasure of an introduction.

  The look in Miss Bennet’s eyes, the touch of her hand, and the sound of her voice told Bingley everything he needed to know. He could not conceive an angel more beautiful.

  “Charles, I know your tendency to fall in love with every so-called angel you meet. But I thought surely in the eldest Bennet daughter’s case, you would be sensible.”

  “Caroline!” Bingley exclaimed with energy.

  The young woman held up her hand. “I grant you that Miss Bennet is pretty enough. And, unlike that ridiculous mother and those silly sisters of hers, she seems intelligent enough. But for heaven’s sake, Brother! Miss Bennet is not only penniless and, from what I overheard someone saying, is on the precipice of being uprooted from her home, but she is blind.”

  Bingley was no stranger to being on the opposite side of a heated debate with his youngest sister. But this time, Caroline had gone too far.

  “Caroline, what on earth is the matter with you? Are you so insensitive to the sufferings of others? Did our own mother not suffer the same affliction as poor Miss Bennet? What sort of hypocrite would I be if I were to find fault in such an extraordinary creature because of her plight?”

  Caroline swept her hand over her eyes and sighed. “My God, Charles!” Shaking her head, she opined, “Where in the world is Mr. Darcy when we need him?”

  Chapter 13

  Elizabeth had learned a lesson about wandering the halls of the manor house while reading rather than paying attention to where she was going. That had not stopped her from doing so while walking about the park. On that morning, Elizabeth clutched her letter from her intimate friend, Charlotte, to her chest. She had committed one part, in particular, to her memory, having read it so often. Taking a seat on a bench, she read it in silence once more:

  “Oh, Lizzy! Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Jane were to find happiness with Mr. Bingley? You and I both know Jane well enough to know she would never express such a sentiment out loud. Even your mother
has not allowed herself to hope, and we know that if she thought an alliance between the gentleman and Jane were possible, she would not be able to keep it to herself. I, however, am not so constrained, and thus, I would shout it from the rooftop if I thought doing so would make such a felicitous prospect for Jane come true.”

  Elizabeth smiled. Whoever this Mr. Bingley is, I can hardly wait to meet him. Based on Charlotte’s earlier letter, he was everything a gentleman ought to be, which was really saying something.

  The fact that he purportedly holds my Jane in such high esteem makes him a prince among men, in my estimation.

  Elizabeth wished for a first-hand account of this budding relationship from Jane herself. That would have to wait until the sisters were reunited. Thank heaven, I have Charlotte to keep me informed.

  Charlotte is not one to exaggerate, and she most assuredly would never entertain fanciful notions that have no basis in truth even if Mr. Bingley’s acquaintance with my sister is of such short duration. Therefore, I must conclude that the possibility of Jane’s finding the happiness she deserves is indeed a cause for hope.

  Elizabeth was roused from her reflections by someone’s approach. More pleasure than she intended to show then overcame her, for it was none other than Mr. Darcy.

  “I was hoping I would find you here,” he said once he stood close enough to her.

  “On such a lovely day as this, where else would I be, sir?”

  “Indeed. May I join you?”

  Nodding, Elizabeth made room on the bench for her most welcomed companion.

  “As strange as this sounds, I had the most interesting conversation with Mr. Collins earlier.”

  She laughed a little. “I do not think I have ever heard the words ‘interesting’ and ‘conversation’ uttered together when speaking of Mr. Collins. Pray, tell me more.” What I find interesting is hearing those words coming from Mr. Darcy’s mouth, Elizabeth thought but did not say.

  “Your point is well taken. That said, it looks like the two of us will be reunited soon after you take your leave of Kent.”

  “How do you suppose that, sir?”

  “My friend, Charles Bingley, recently let Netherfield Park. I understand his estate is just three miles away from Longbourn. Indeed, I was meant to accompany him, but Lady Catherine required my presence here. I promised Bingley I would arrive in Hertfordshire once my aunt’s business concerns allowed.”

  “What a coincidence that your friend is my new neighbor. What are the odds of our having first met here in Kent as opposed to Hertfordshire?”

  “Some may call it fate.”

  “Fate, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Indeed. One way or another, we were destined to be thrown into each other’s path.”

  Destiny, indeed. Elizabeth was much happier that the two of them had met in Kent, rather than Hertfordshire. She liked Mr. Darcy very much, and she was sure the feeling was mutual. However, she was not so confident the two of them would have gotten along at all had they first met in Hertfordshire. True, Mr. Darcy was charming and amiable enough, but he barely tolerated Mr. Collins’s ridiculousness.

  I can only imagine how he will comport himself with my mother and my two younger sisters. I have not the slightest doubt that the briefest time spent in company with the three of them will render my family severely wanting in Mr. Darcy’s opinion.

  “That said,” he continued, “knowing our paths are bound to cross again makes what I am about to say infinitely less painful. You see, Miss Bennet, I will be taking my leave of Kent in a matter of hours.”

  “What? So soon?”

  “Yes, well, I have urgent business in town that requires my attention, and the colonel is eager to return as well.”

  Placing his hand on Elizabeth’s chin, he gently coaxed her to look into his eyes. “Is that a look of forlorn that I see?”

  “You really do love to flatter yourself, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, tearing her eyes away from his.

  He urged her to look into his eyes once more. “Pray, be serious, Miss Bennet. I can assure you the look in my own eyes is utterly and completely one of forlorn. You cannot know what a pleasure it has been getting to know you. I do not mind confessing how much I shall miss spending time with you.”

  “I shall miss you too, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth admitted. “You and the colonel, of course.” The sudden change in his expression compelled Elizabeth to say more. “Especially you, sir.” She smiled. “With whom else might I confide my secrets?”

  “You can always write. I suspect you are very fond of letters,” he said, eyeing the missive in her hand.

  “Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “How scandalous! Surely you jest.”

  He shrugged. “What is one more secret between us?”

  “I can assure you, sir, that is one secret you will never have to concern yourself with.”

  “No, I suppose you are correct. However, if you ever find yourself in need of anything, be it a willing listener or a shoulder to cry on, you must not hesitate to let me know. Promise me that you will.”

  “But, sir—”

  He placed a finger on Elizabeth’s lips, silencing her in the most tantalizing way. “Promise me.”

  Their eyes were fixed on each other’s eyes. Mr. Darcy removed his finger, but his searing touch lingered still. Elizabeth felt as if they were the only two creatures in the world. At length, she whispered, “I promise.”

  Satisfied, Mr. Darcy took her hand into his and raised it to his lips. His kiss lingered. Elizabeth was lost to the amount of time that passed before he lowered her hand. “Until we meet again.”

  “Farewell, Mr. Darcy,” she heard herself say, and she watched as he went away.

  Chapter 14

  With her nephews’ departure from Kent, Lady Catherine was now free to dwell on the matter of her remaining guests and their purpose for being in her home.

  So far as she was concerned, the Bennet daughters were as different as night and day. Mr. Collins had been wise indeed to seek her opinion before taking such a drastic step. At five and twenty, he was still a young man. Far too young for the decades of misery incumbent with having chosen the wrong woman to be mistress of his new home and the mother of his children.

  The time had come to render her verdict. There the two of them sat, alone in the drawing-room at Lady Catherine’s beckoning.

  “I hope for your sake, Mr. Collins, that Miss Mary is the Bennet daughter of your choice. She is nothing at all like her sister. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not only impertinent, but she is far too opinionated for someone of her sphere. You would be miserable were you to be burdened by such a wife,” said her ladyship. “That is to say nothing about her unbecoming habit of traipsing about the countryside. Such a partner in life would surely reflect poorly on any man, especially one such as yourself, whose prospects are so bright.”

  “As you know, Lady Catherine, I would never make such a decision on whom I ought to marry without first obtaining your blessing. I, too, find certain shades in my cousin Elizabeth’s character to be wanting. Whereas, the more time I spend getting acquainted with Cousin Mary, the more I value her many lovely qualities.”

  “I, for one, am glad to hear you speak that way. One would be blind not to see that Miss Mary Bennet was designed for you. As for her sister, with such an impertinent disposition as hers, she will likely never marry a gentleman of any real consequence in the world. With any luck, she will seek a position as a governess, although I do not know who would employ her. Alas, she, along with her mother and sisters, will remain a burden to you until you can find someone to take one or another of them off your hands.”

  “Indeed, your ladyship. However, such is a lot in life I shall gladly endure.”

  “Well then, away with you. Go and share your happy news with Miss Mary with my blessings. Though you will not be the wealthiest gentleman in the country, all that you will have is certainly no less than you deserve.”

  Next, it was Mr. Collins’s turn to have a private aud
ience with another member of the Rosings party.

  “Pray have a seat, Cousin Elizabeth, for I fear you will want to be seated when you hear what I have to say.”

  Recalling that she had been seated at the table when Mr. Collins initially offered his hand to her at Longbourn, Elizabeth felt her stomach turn. What’s more, both of his hands were behind his back. If he offered her a flower or some other token of his affection, she feared she might bolt from the room.

  No, she thought to herself. Such rashness on my part would never do.

  “What on earth is this about, Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth demanded. Her waning patience mixed with dread was evident in her voice.

  “Trust me when I say you will want to be seated for this.”

  Elizabeth folded one arm over the other. “Trust me when I say, I have no intention of sitting so long as you keep me in suspense.”

  Collins shook his head and clasped his hands - his empty hands - in front of him. “Very well, but prepare yourself to be quite disheartened. However, I do suspect, or at least I hope your disappointment will be of a short duration once you have had time to digest my news.”

  Now Elizabeth was beginning to worry. She feared that Lady Catherine might have persuaded the man against either Bennet daughter. Then where would her family be?

  Mr. Collins will toss us out into the hedgerows for sure.

  “I am listening,” Elizabeth said in a voice impatient for Mr. Collins to continue his speech.

  “You cannot have missed the growing camaraderie between your sister Cousin Mary and me during our time here in Kent. What we have shared has progressed from what was at first akin to brotherly and sisterly affection for each other into something more meaningful, more lasting - dare I say it aloud, in a word, love.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide. If she did not dislike Mr. Collins as much as she did, she would have wrapped her arms around him in jubilation. Instead, she took a seat, which was encouragement enough for Mr. Collins to sit as well.

 

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