by Jann Rowland
“I wonder what Miss Darcy is like,” said Lydia, her voice, as was her wont, at least two levels too loud. “Perhaps she is a haughty young miss, one who will look down on us for our humbler station.”
Lydia’s partner giggled at her statement. “If she is anything like Miss Bingley, I cannot imagine her being anything other than proud and disagreeable.”
Had Kitty’s statement not been true, Elizabeth might have stepped in to bring them to order. As it was, however, Elizabeth did not much like Miss Bingley herself, though Jane protested that Miss Bingley had always been kind to her. Then again, Jane never thought ill of anyone if she could avoid it.
“If she is a friend of Miss Bingley’s,” said Lydia amid her giggles, “she must be proud and above her company. I wonder how much dowry a woman must possess before it renders her character unbearable.”
“Lydia!” exclaimed Elizabeth, feeling her sister’s words had gone too far. “That is enough of that.”
While Lydia appeared ready to retort, a look from her mother quelled her outburst. “Lizzy is correct, Lydia. It is gauche to speak of a young lady’s dowry, especially when you are not acquainted with her.”
“You should also refrain from judging her before you have met her,” said Elizabeth with a grateful nod to her mother. “By all accounts, Miss Darcy is not Miss Bingley’s particular friend. Rather, Mr. Bingley claims Miss Darcy’s brother as his, meaning she is the sister of his friend. That is a significant difference.”
While Lydia still appeared to resent being called to order, she subsided, much to Elizabeth’s relief. Though Lydia was not yet out, there were some events she attended, and many opportunities for her to make herself and her sisters look ridiculous. There had been, Elizabeth thought, some slight improvement in her behavior over time, but she also needed much more progress before she would be a credit to the family when in society.
With her mother, Elizabeth had long possessed the closest of relationships, for Elizabeth was the most like her mother in figure and form, though their characters were not at all alike. Mrs. Bennet had not been born a gentlewoman. The daughter of the town’s solicitor, she had come to the attention of the master of Longbourn as a girl; drawn to a pretty face coupled with good humor, Mr. Bennet had proposed. It was only after their marriage that Mr. Bennet had realized his wife had not been blessed with the greatest of intelligence or sense.
It might have turned out differently if Mr. Bennet had not spoken to his wife, teaching her what she needed to know about being a gentlewoman and how to behave like one. Mrs. Bennet was a woman who, though she understood her limitations, was a good mistress and good mother for her children, and while she still worried for their futures (the state was entailed to a cousin, a man unknown to them), Mr. Bennet’s diligence in ensuring his wife and daughters would have something on which to subsist should the worst happen assured her that while she might suffer a diminution of her status, she would never be unprotected.
Though she had never spoken of it with her mother, Elizabeth had long suspected her mother saw something of Mr. Bennet in her, for while mother and daughter were not at all alike, father and daughter were akin to two peas in a pod, possessing the same intelligence, a similar sense of humor, and similar tastes in literature. Of all her sisters, Elizabeth enjoyed the best relations with her parents, though none of the Bennet sisters had any doubts about the love their parents held for them.
Soon the sound of a carriage approaching the front door interrupted Elizabeth’s thoughts and the moment was upon them. Mrs. Bennet arranged the girls as was their custom when visitors arrived, and when the youngest girls settled, they presented the picture of a proper, genteel family. Seeing this, Elizabeth nodded to herself, satisfied their visitors could have nothing about which to complain.
The first sight of Miss Bingley, however, reminded Elizabeth why there was reason to concern herself with the impression they presented to their neighbors. Miss Bingley was a tall, graceful woman, not lacking in feminine attraction, presenting impeccable form and dress every time she ventured into society. It was unfortunate the woman’s virtues did not also include a friendliness of manner, a sunny disposition, or a lack of haughtiness. Though Miss Bingley was the daughter of a tradesman and well below anyone in the neighborhood by society’s standards, she seemed to consider herself above them by virtue of her twenty-thousand-pound dowry.
By contrast, Mr. Bingley, her brother and the master of Netherfield Park, was a genial, friendly man, eager to please and be pleased, accepting of all and sundry. It was Elizabeth’s observation that Mr. Bingley had become enamored with Elizabeth’s elder sister, Jane upon first meeting her, for by now, having been in the neighborhood for some weeks, he could not be separated from her for any reason any time they were in the same room with each other.
In a sudden insight, Elizabeth realized that Miss Bingley would not be at Longbourn that morning if she had a choice. It was, no doubt, Mr. Bingley’s insistence which brought her here. The notion that the gentleman was firm in his convictions was welcome to Elizabeth, for sometimes comments made within her hearing had suggested that was not always the case.
“Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, taking the lead in greeting his nearest neighbors. “How wonderful it is to see you all here today.”
“Welcome, Mr. Bingley,” said Mrs. Bennet, dropping into a curtsey. “We are, as always, pleased to welcome you to Longbourn.
“Excellent!” declared the enthused gentleman. “We bring a visitor today who wished for an introduction to you.”
Gesturing a little behind him, standing between the Bingley sisters—Mr. Bingley’s eldest sister, Mrs. Hurst, had also come—the Bennets caught their first sight of a young and diffident woman. She was tall, though not so tall as Miss Bingley, possessed of light, flaxen hair, and when she looked up from the floor, they could see she had bright blue eyes and a pleasant countenance. She also appeared very young.
“Please allow me to introduce Miss Georgiana Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, only a hint of displeasure about her mouth betraying her lack of enthusiasm for this task.
Then Miss Bingley named each Bennet in turn and introduced them, after which they settled into their visit. With keen interest, Elizabeth invited the girl to sit next to her, which once again raised Miss Bingley’s dander. With nothing she could do, she sat nearby, determined to ensure no Bennet corrupted her guest’s sensibilities.
“Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, “It pleases me to make your acquaintance at last. Miss Bingley has had much to say of you.”
“And my brother, Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley interjected, directing a simpering smile at the girl. “Charles has been eager for your coming too.”
It was all Elizabeth could do to stifle a laugh at Miss Bingley’s blatant attempt to forward her brother as a potential match for Miss Darcy. The exchange also confirmed Elizabeth’s initial observation of Miss Darcy’s shyness, for the girl blushed and lowered her head, mumbling something which Miss Bingley took for agreement. The woman beamed at Miss Darcy and turned a sneer on Elizabeth. It was a challenge, Elizabeth decided, one she had no intention of accepting.
“I understand you are from the north, Miss Darcy.”
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Darcy, her head rising as she gazed at Elizabeth with sudden animation. “My brother’s estate is called Pemberley, and William says it is the most beautiful place he has ever seen. Though I have not traveled so much as William, I, too, find it lovely.”
It seemed there was no subject which Elizabeth could have introduced which was as guaranteed to provoke the girl’s response as talk of her home, and for a while, they conversed with perfect civility. Then, when Elizabeth chanced to mention a piece she was learning on the pianoforte, she learned how mistaken she was, for Miss Darcy responded with more animation and vigor. Soon they were talking together like old acquaintances, and by the time the half-hour had passed, Elizabeth was convinced she had gained a lovely young friend. That Kitty and Lydia did not have as
much time with Miss Darcy was not palatable to the two girls; it seemed to Elizabeth, Miss Darcy was a girl who did not possess the high spirits of her sisters, and thus she was not so comfortable with them.
“My brother is Mr. Bingley’s closest friend,” said Miss Darcy not long before they were to depart.
“So we have heard, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, showing the girl a wry smile. “Your brother has spoken of Mr. Darcy often.”
Miss Darcy seemed to understand Elizabeth’s humor, for she chuckled a little. Miss Bingley, who had been occupied by Elizabeth’s mother, looked at them with no little asperity, but she had no means by which she could extricate herself.
“Mr. Bingley does rely on William, but he is an excellent man. What you may not also know is my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is the new colonel of the local regiment. It was he who escorted me here when he came to take his command.”
“Has he?” said Elizabeth, interested to hear this piece of information. “Though we had heard some rumors to the effect that a new colonel had been appointed, we had begun to wonder if there would ever be a replacement for Colonel Forster, for he departed for his father’s estate three weeks ago.”
“Anthony has long been in the regulars,” said Miss Darcy, “but a recent injury has rendered him unfit for battle. He is to command this regiment until he has regained his full health, and then he will report back for another assignment.”
“Then I hope to make his acquaintance soon.”
“I am certain that will be possible,” said Miss Darcy. “The regiment has been much involved with local society, have they not?”
“Too involved of late,” replied Elizabeth. “Though the captains are capable men, I do not think they hold as much respect with the men as a colonel would. Your cousin will have an arduous task in restoring discipline ahead of him.”
“I know there is nothing Anthony cannot do, for I have every confidence in him. Anthony shares in my brother’s guardianship over me; William and I have been close to him a long time.”
“Then it is beneficial for you to have such a beloved elder relation so nearby.”
Miss Darcy allowed that it was, and soon after, the Bingleys indicated their need to return to their home. As Elizabeth watched Miss Bingley shepherd her party from the room, she did not even consider the woman’s eagerness to depart. Instead, Elizabeth was considering the wonderful friend she had made that day, for Miss Darcy was a charming girl. It seemed interesting new people had, indeed, come into the neighborhood, and Elizabeth was anticipating her meeting with the two gentlemen of whom Miss Darcy had spoken. She was certain they would be as interesting as those she had already met.
That afternoon, Fitzwilliam rode for Netherfield, his thoughts of the regiment he now commanded mirroring those Miss Elizabeth Bennet had expressed, though unknowingly. It was not much of a surprise, he supposed, for the regiment had been without a commanding officer for more than long enough to expect discipline to lapse; Fitzwilliam was surprised the situation was not worse than it was. Returning order to his command was a nuisance, though he supposed he should be philosophical and acknowledge it could be worse
In all honesty, he should still be at camp, ensuring his commands were being followed, rather than bound for Netherfield. But Fitzwilliam had promised Darcy when he had brought Georgiana to Hertfordshire that he would not leave her to Miss Bingley’s scheming, and Fitzwilliam, sharing in her guardianship, was no more eager to allow Miss Bingley to fill Georgiana’s head with her idea of good behavior.
“I suppose a respite will not hurt,” said Fitzwilliam to the accompaniment of his horse’s canter. “The regiment will not fall apart if I am away for an hour or two.”
Jupiter, his horse, nickered at his words, and Fitzwilliam patted the animal’s neck. A fine stallion his father had purchased when Fitzwilliam went into the army, they had been through many ordeals together. It had been Jupiter’s calmness, not to mention his vicious streak, which had preserved Fitzwilliam from injury or death more than once. He was now more than a mount—more like a close acquaintance or colleague, a friend from whom Fitzwilliam could never imagine being parted.
As the estate rose in the distance above the tops of the trees, Fitzwilliam considered the place. It was an excellent property, he decided, just what Bingley needed to become accustomed to managing an estate. Fitzwilliam had no notion that Bingley would settle here, but there was nothing the matter with the neighborhood.
When Fitzwilliam arrived in front of the manor, he threw the reins to a stable hand, instructing him as to Jupiter’s care, and strode into the house. There the reminder of the drawback residing at the estate greeted him almost as soon as he entered.
“Anthony!” exclaimed Georgiana upon seeing him stride into the room. In her manner was an unmistakable sense of relief for his presence, the reason for which was, of course, Miss Bingley’s presence by her side. Fitzwilliam refrained from scowling, knowing this was why Darcy had asked him to look in on his precious sister.
“Hello, Georgiana,” said Fitzwilliam, accepting her embrace. “It seems you have emerged from your first brush with Meryton society unscathed. You were to visit one of the local estates today, were you not?”
“Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed a voice behind them.
Turning, Fitzwilliam accepted Bingley’s hearty handshake in greeting, noting the man was in an ebullient mood. Given what Fitzwilliam had heard of his interest in a young lady of the neighborhood—from the man himself—Fitzwilliam was not surprised.
“The Bennets were wonderful, Cousin,” said Georgiana, returning Fitzwilliam’s attention to her. “There are five daughters, Cousin. Five! Though I only spoke with one of them for the most part, I found them all friendly and obliging. I hope that we shall become excellent friends.”
“And the one with whom you spoke at length?” asked Fitzwilliam, denying Miss Bingley the opportunity to say something caustic.
“Miss Elizabeth is so friendly!” cried Georgiana. “We talked about Pemberley and music, and she is ever so intelligent and amusing!”
“It is no shock she wished to speak of Pemberley,” said Miss Bingley, seeming eager to speak. “She can see that you are a young lady of quality, and she has heard of your brother’s coming. Mark my words, Georgiana—she means to attract Mr. Darcy’s attention by whatever means necessary.”
So caught up in her diatribe was Miss Bingley that she did not notice the look exchanged between cousins. The woman’s words were nothing less than a faithful representation of herself, but she was not self-aware enough to recognize it.
“Upon my word, you are harsh, Caroline,” exclaimed Bingley. “The Bennet family is genteel and not in the habit of chasing after men. I cannot imagine a less faithful portrayal of a young woman as what you have just said.”
“What of Miss Bennet’s pursuit of you?” demanded Miss Bingley of her brother.
Bingley shook his head. “That is an even less accurate account. Miss Bennet is everything good. To say she has chased after me is ridiculous. I must wonder if you have had your eyes open at all when in her company.”
“The fact is that Miss Bennet is not suitable.”
“In what way can you consider her unsuitable?”
“She is naught but the daughter of a country gentleman,” snapped Miss Bingley.
“And we are nothing but the scions of a line of tradesmen,” rejoined Bingley, causing his sister to gasp. “Our father was not ashamed of what he was, Caroline, and you should not forget about our heritage either.”
“Charles,” said Miss Bingley with exaggerated patience, “the salient point is our father wished us to join the ranks of the landed.”
“A process I have begun.”
Flashing a glare of impatience, Miss Bingley replied: “It is a good start, but nothing more. Miss Bennet is a sweet girl, but she cannot assist us to gain standing in society.”
“If I cared about such things,” said Bingley, “I might agree with you.”
&n
bsp; Miss Bingley attempted to protest, but Bingley interrupted, saying: “At present, this conversation is premature, Caroline, for I have not known Miss Bennet long enough to understand if I wish to make her an offer. But know this: if I decide I do wish to offer for her, I shall; all your displeasure will not prevent me. Even the notoriously fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy will find nothing amiss with Miss Bennet—and the entire family—and if he did, it would not cause me a moment’s concern.”
“Sensible, as always, Bingley!” said Fitzwilliam, amused at the direction the conversation had taken and how the warring siblings had forgotten about their audience. “I believe I wish to meet these people when the chance permits. They sound like an excellent family!”
“They are!” said Georgiana and Bingley in tandem.
Miss Bingley, seeing she was outnumbered, scowled at them all. But then, as if her displeasure had been nothing more than their imagination, she shifted to a simpering smile.
“I should think you will agree with me once you meet them, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“That is possible, I suppose,” replied Fitzwilliam. “However, given what I am hearing from Georgiana and your brother, I cannot imagine finding them anything other than people worthy of knowing.”
“Surely you would not wish for your cousin, for example, to be taken in by people of base natures! Yet that very thing is what I am trying to protect my brother against.”
The wide-eyed credulity with which the woman spoke did not mislead Fitzwilliam. Far from it. While he might have wished to laugh at her stupidity, he forced himself to answer with honesty.
“On the contrary, Miss Bingley,” Fitzwilliam enjoyed the manner in which her face fell, though it was not gentlemanly, “should Darcy fall in love with one of the Bennet sisters, I could do nothing but support him. Though my family has done what we can to support our near relations, I understand Darcy is lonely and in want of the companionship only a wife could bring. Should he find it, I will applaud.”
The sickly green cast to Miss Bingley’s countenance was more fuel for Fitzwilliam’s amusement, though he fought hard to avoid laughing. Then the woman said: “Mr. Darcy’s happiness is paramount, to be sure. Now, if you will excuse me, I should see to dinner.”