by Massey, Beth
Lizzy had turned pale at the mention of the insult by Mr Darcy. Jane noticed first and said, “It is quite late, and I am fatigued. I think we should all go to bed.” She slipped her arm through her sister’s and led her up the stairs. Mary, Kitty and Lydia followed, leaving their parents to discuss Mr Darcy.
Mrs Bennet ignored Mary’s rendition of the events and ranted on to her husband, “He is a most disagreeable, horrid man; so high and conceited that nobody pleased him! He walked here and walked there. Jane, who is too kind for her own good, said he was just shy; but I am of the opinion he fancied himself above our company. For the first hour, he spent a great deal of time looking out the window, and talked to no one but Mr Bingley’s sister. It was while he was speaking with her that he said such unflattering things about our daughters and was completely uncivil toward Lizzy. He danced only once with Miss Bingley and then left early. I wish you had been there, my dear, to have given him one of your set downs. I quite detest the man.”
“My dear, I am unable to decide which vexes you more, the fact that he said something unkind about Lizzy, or that he did not dance with any of our other daughters. I think I will be sensible and emulate our daughters and go to bed.” Mr Bennet left his wife standing in the drawing room with her mouth open and walked toward the stairs.
By the time Lizzy had climbed the stairs with her sisters, she had managed to get her emotions under control. All the sisters agreed to change into their nightclothes and join Lizzy in her bedroom to give her a proper description of the ball.
Jane gave a more nuanced report of Mr Bingley and his sisters. She related more accurately what Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy had said than their mother’s report. She also told of Colonel Forster describing Mr Darcy as a good man. He was best friends with Mr Darcy’s cousin… one Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Elizabeth held her breath at the mention of Mr Darcy’s cousin, and finally exhaled in relief when she realized it was Lord Wolfbridge’s brother. Lydia noticed her sister’s reaction, but knew not what it meant. She had heard of Colonel Fitzwilliam from Maria. Lydia had learned from her friend that he and a Colonel Bledsoe were very close with Colonel Forster. Maria had told her both of them were immensely entertaining, and Lydia hoped one day to make their acquaintance. Did Lizzy know Colonel Fitzwilliam?
Kitty told of her encounter with Mr Darcy, and related how much her John admired him. He was once again described as a good man, and that John’s aunt, who they had all met and liked, had been the housekeeper at Pemberley since Mr Darcy was a boy. Mr Darcy had assured John he would pay a visit to say he was sorry. She also told how he sought out Jane and Lydia in the presence of Mr Bingley to express remorse for his behaviour.
Mary’s version of her meeting with him was similar. She related to her sisters that Mr Collins knew Mr Darcy, but did not go into the details. For some reason, Mr Darcy’s odd question bothered Mary. She decided to hide that bit of news. She would warn her betrothed not to talk about Lady Catherine’s relationship to Mr Darcy with her mother and sisters—particularly Elizabeth. However, she felt it prudent to confide the news to her father.
Lydia was bored with all this discussion of uncivil remarks and Mr Darcy being a good man. She changed the conversation to describe the pleasing aspects of the ball. Her sisters were treated to how excessively happy she was to be out and thanked them for teaching her all the dances and loaning her clothes. Lizzy was especially thanked for remembering the red cloak she had packed away five years ago. Within minutes, the youngest Bennet daughter had them all giggling as she described each of her partners and which ones stepped on her toes or went the wrong way. They all laughed at the thought of how their papa would have reacted had Lydia describing these events for him.
Lizzy was glad they had stopped talking about Mr Darcy and his slight. Even a few moments respite from worrying about his being in Hertfordshire and the danger of his presence was a relief.
Jane said Mr Bingley was by far the most elegant dancer of her acquaintance. This admission prompted her sisters to tease her about being enamoured of such an angelic looking young man. Lydia shocked Mary when she said she hoped he had at least a bit of the devil in him as well. She also volunteered that the blue of his coat perfectly matched his eyes.
Next, they moved on to the cut of his sisters’ gowns and their mother’s plans to have them all show more bosom at the next ball. Lydia looked over and noticed that Kitty had fallen asleep. She and Mary woke her and helped her to bed.
When Elizabeth was alone with her older sister, she probed for more of Jane’s assessment of Mr Bingley. Lizzy noticed she had a bit of a dreamy look on her face when she finally spoke.
“He is just what a young man ought to be… sensible, good-humoured and lively. I never saw such happy manners. He is very much at ease in company, and with such perfect good-breeding!”
“He is also handsome according to our mother,” said Elizabeth; “A pleasant appearance is something a young man ought to possess, if he possibly can… and even more important, he has five thousand a year. His character is thereby complete.”
Jane laughed at her sister’s humour, but then turned serious, “I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I did not expect such a compliment.”
“Did you not? I have always felt you should be showered with praise. But that is one great difference between us. Esteem by others always seems to amaze you. What could be more natural than his asking you again? You are the sweetest being and about five times as pretty as every other woman at the assembly. And he sounds from everyone’s description to be very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have admired at least one person who was much less deserving.”
“Dear Lizzy, don’t bring him up tonight.”
“I bring him up because he is a good example of how you are a great deal too apt to like people in general. I have never heard you speak ill of any human being, including George Trent, but you also no longer expose your true sentiments to anyone—including me. For five years you have danced with men, you later told me were agreeable, but that is as far as you will go.”
“Lizzy, my need to guard my heart is a lot more complicated than being jilted by George. I first lost Tom, and then I lost you. You were such a comfort when Tom died, but you were gone when I was trying to make sense of my regard for his cousin. Besides, you have no right to judge me for my inability to reveal my private feelings. To this day, you have never disclosed why you returned home so altered. Elizabeth, I have never picked at your pain and assumed you would tell me when you could. I deserve the same courtesy from you.”
Lizzy knew her sister was correct. She hugged her and whispered, “I am so sorry, Jane. I did not mean to hurt you.”
The two sisters remained entwined for a few seconds. Breaking away first, Jane smiled at her sister. “I know you want only the best for me and have always been my most fervent admirer—even more than Mama. Lizzy laughed and kissed her sister’s cheek as the anxiety between the two was broken.
Jane began again to attempt to explain some of her feelings. “The one with whom I will spend my life must first be sure I am the one for them. The confidence I have in his affection must be as I knew Tom’s to be.” She chuckled at what she was about to say. “Once I am certain he truly wants me, I will decide whether I will have him.”
Lizzy joined in her sister’s laughter and asked with a smirk, “But what if the perfect man for you is also afraid to disclose his true feelings because he fears being rejected?”
Her older sister could not think of a witty reply so she just shrugged her shoulders. Finally she said with a combination of humour and passion. “I am not afraid to join you in spinsterhood.”
Elizabeth decided to push her sister for a bit more information about Mr Bingley. She kept her tone light and teasing so as not to have a repeat of their earlier disagreement. “From the time we began confiding in each other as little girls, you have taken the good of everybody’s character and made it still b
etter… and said nothing of the bad.” Her fingers entwined with Jane’s. “That is a character flaw which belongs to you alone—my favourite goodly creature. Mr Bingley sounds like an honourable and amiable man, and he appears to admire you. He has money, so he does not need a bride with a huge dowry the way Mr Trent did… and besides, you will have a decent dowry.” She finished her query by asking with a grin, “And so do you agree with Mama’s estimation of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst? Obviously at least his one sister does not have manners equal to his.”
Jane took the question quite seriously and thought for a minute before she replied. “Certainly not… She was wrong to say what she did about you. However, when I met Mr Bingley’s sisters, they were quite polite… and even complimentary to me. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and keep his house. Unless I am much mistaken, we shall find very charming neighbours in her and him.”
Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not persuaded. She had paid careful attention to Kitty’s description of Mr Darcy’s words when he apologized to them in the presence of Mr Bingley. He had expressed remorse to her sisters for remarks they might have heard that they were only tolerable, and complemented them on their beauty. Jane had told Lizzy that Charlotte had described uncivil remarks about the reclusive Bennet sister during the exchange between Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy. From what she had gleaned, Lizzy deduced that it was probably Miss Bingley who had disparaged the beauty of all the Bennet sisters. She had just been fortunate not to have been overheard. Elizabeth believed Mr Darcy was not one to spread rumours. Mrs Darcy had shared with her how uncomfortable her husband was in social situations.
Sleep eluded Elizabeth as her mind raced with the fear of her meeting with Mr Darcy. She had been successful in keeping any hint of the true circumstances of her lost year from becoming known. Though some of the most vicious speculations had hinted at a man being involved in her inheritance, no one had ever mentioned a child. Elizabeth prayed his presence would not jeopardize her situation and fuel the gossip. As she played over in her mind the report of the evening, she realized she had not heard mention of Mr Darcy being a widower with two children.
The tossing and turning finally got the best of her. Arising to sit on the windowsill and stare at the night sky, she resolved to avoid him until she could learn exactly what was being said of him in the neighbourhood. Her father could accept his apology without her presence; and then carefully, without calling attention to her interest, try to ascertain what he had discerned of Mr Darcy and why he was in the neighbourhood.
Her mind went in a different direction, and she wished she could talk to him privately. She missed their discussions. Had he revised his ill opinion of her because of Anne’s confession?
Darcy had hesitated to retire until Bingley, his sisters and Mr Hurst’s arrived back at Netherfield. He wanted to learn what had happened after his departure. While he waited, he stared at the fire and drank to dull the edge of his apprehension and mortification. The fire’s glow brought to mind a beautiful young woman, her belly filled with Bethany, reading in the candlelight. Originally he had been drawn to Miss Elizabeth’s joy, but when that had been extinguished, he had come to admire the young woman’s seriousness laced with humour. The brandy also urged him to remember her soft sensuousness. Even Lewis could see that quality in the Fragonard at not quite four. Oh how he wished he could take back his remark to Miss Bingley; and even more he wished he had not come to Hertfordshire. He was not in a mood to confront his life’s greatest conundrum so close on the heels of Ramsgate.
For five years, Miss Elizabeth had been the subject of his most private thoughts, and shamefully they were all too often inappropriate. In the beginning, shortly after Bethany’s birth, he had often tried to sketch her character but was always unsuccessful. The thought of that day he met her leaving Darcy House caused him to shudder. Deep in his soul, he feared Edmund had taken advantage of her, and somehow Anne had helped. Despite his anxiety about his family’s actions, he clung to the belief that a well-bred young woman would not have allowed herself to be violated by a cad, even if he was a viscount.
After a few more sips, questions arose to counter his assumption. How could he be certain she was at fault? Perhaps, her situation had been like Georgiana’s. His sister had agreed to be alone with Wickham. But, he could not find it in himself to blame Georgiana for what was surely the fault of Wickham and Mrs Younge. Darcy realized with disgust he had insisted that same woman must travel with Miss Elizabeth—for propriety’s sake!
His mind as always returned to the most damning fact. Regardless of the circumstances, Miss Elizabeth had been intelligent enough to realize she could gain from her situation. Where he disliked the memory of the haunted child walking to Cheapside, he never shied from being incensed by the vision of the fifteen-year-old in her green silk dress negotiating. Her demands, given with unflinching purpose and cool disdain, definitely showed a lack of breeding. Georgiana would never try to turn such a situation into monetary betterment.
He thought back to the conversation he had overheard at White’s. Friends of his cousin had been laughing about his latest conquest. “Lord Wolfbridge persuaded a very young thing to submit. He said she even helped with her buttons.” If they had been talking about Miss Elizabeth, that would imply she was a willing participant. Darcy recalled the discussion with Edmund at Bethany’s baptism that supported this version of events. “She removed her clothes as an enticement. She wanted to become the next Countess of Elderton.” Darcy shook that memory aside. His cousin was hardly one he should believe. He recalled the other titbit he heard at White’s. “The silly chit was concerned about her sister’s reputations.” Still, a proper young lady would have put up a struggle if someone were trying to compromise her. None of the servants at Darcy House had ever indicated that a woman had been trying to fight off unwelcome advances from Edmund.
Finally after three brandies, he succeeded in persuading himself that she had known what she was doing all along. She was from a different class… they did not have the same sense of propriety. Yes, her father was a gentleman, but every one of her other relations was in trade. That class only cared about money… never about honour.
What was he to make of her sister’s attachment to John Reynolds? That seemed to fly in the face of their being mercenary. His family was in service. That was much worse than being in trade. John seemed to be revered within the Bennet family as a son… even before the marriage. And then there was Mr Collins… Darcy had always thought Lady Catherine’s parson to be obsequious toward his aunt. Somehow he seemed different tonight. One thing was certain; Miss Mary Bennet was not obsequious. She had been an odd combination of righteous indignation towards him, and a passionate protector of a beloved sister.
Mrs Bennet seemed vulgar and very competitive with her neighbours. Her desire for prominence seemed to be the source of her aspirations for Miss Bennet to be admired by Bingley. Whatever her motive, she was definitely enamoured of his income.
The daughter, Lydia, the one who was just out, was very forward. She did not seem to wait for proper introductions to begin a conversation with one or another of the officers. As he stared into the fire to ponder their shortcomings, he suddenly remembered that Bethany was both competitive and forward. Those characteristics in her had always made him laugh, but now he considered that he should try to discourage them in the future. She obviously took after her mother and her mother’s family in many ways.
Darcy’s brandy fogged brain indulged in reminiscing about his interactions with Bethany’s mother, and how she, unlike anyone else, except perhaps Richard, could make him laugh. He was positive Miss Elizabeth had purposely tried to make him laugh several times, and those occasions were some of his fondest memories of her. He would be dishonest if he did not admit he enjoyed talking books, theatre, and even politics with her. She had given her opinions very decidedly for one so young.
Once he thought she had flirted with him… how inappropriate to flirt with a marri
ed man. Maybe she thought it a way to extract even more money from him? After Anne died, during a period of intense loneliness, and when Bethany and Lewis were still quite small, he had briefly thought of proposing a less than legitimate relationship to her. He had quickly abandoned the idea because he instinctually knew she would be offended and refuse; and he would be dishonoured in his own eyes… not to mention the danger to his daughter. Miss Bingley had said the local gossip was that she refused to marry. He knew her money to be safe from an unscrupulous husband because it was with her uncle… so why was she reticent?
He had resented her fear of being touched by him; especially since it was obvious she had not the same qualms about Dr Wilder. Someone who was flirting for financial gain would not express such revulsion. Out of the blue, he thought of her toes. He thought of her wading with Mrs Hinton’s children and he thought of her bare feet as she lay on the floor quoting Shakespeare. Her feet were small, and her toes were perfectly shaped. He had not seen that many women’s bare feet, but he was certain hers were the loveliest. He wished he could kiss her toes. He was startled out of his reverie by the sounds of someone’s arrival. He blushed at what he had been unconsciously imagining.
When Bingley’s sisters came in, they were chattering on about the assembly and how common the participants were. Next they went on and on about how out of fashion their gowns were. They were sure none of the young ladies had ever had a gown from London. They found it particularly droll that one young woman had dressed to echo the militia officers’ uniforms—they believed she was a Bennet.