by Jann Rowland
A little later, Charlotte came to chivvy Elizabeth to the pianoforte, and while Georgiana giggled at Elizabeth’s raised eyebrow, she spoke of her eagerness to hear Elizabeth’s performance and shooed her away. Not unwilling to perform for the company, Elizabeth agreed and soon began to play.
Whatever Miss Bingley had to say about the local society, Fitzwilliam decided that it was more hyperbole than the truth. Take the Bennet family, for example. While Fitzwilliam had spoken to Mr. Bennet for only a few moments, he saw nothing objectionable in the man. Mrs. Bennet was lovely, both as a woman, though she was five and forty if she was a day, and in her behavior, which was gracious and welcoming. The girls were all lively except for Mary, who seemed more like Darcy than her sisters. Miss Elizabeth, in particular, was a delight.
Further provoking Fitzwilliam’s approval was the young lady who he had learned was Miss Elizabeth’s closest friend. Though Miss Lucas was not as animated as the second Bennet sister, she was sensible and interesting, and Fitzwilliam enjoyed the few moments he spoke with her. After a time together, she excused herself, leaving Fitzwilliam standing alone, watching Miss Elizabeth as she played the second of her songs.
“Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said a voice by his side, “have you come to my way of thinking yet? Of course, you must! For who, having known excellent society, cannot agree when witnessing this spectacle?”
Years as a soldier honing nerves of iron prevented Fitzwilliam from jumping at the sudden sound of a voice in his ear. Miss Bingley—for it was she—stood a little behind him, regarding him with that little sardonic smirk she often used. Then she turned and glanced about, her gaze raking over those present before her eyes found him again, eyebrow raised in challenge.
“There is, I suppose,” said Fitzwilliam, “something of a countrified air about most of them, for most here do not move in the circles to which I am accustomed.”
Miss Bingley’s smile widened at this evidence of his agreement. Seeing this, Fitzwilliam returned her smile, though understated, and added: “But there is no harm in them. If you travel enough, Miss Bingley, you will find that most small country societies are similar. It would take behavior far more egregious than this to induce me to call them uncouth.”
The smile running away from Miss Bingley’s face, she sniffed and looked about, her eyes coming to rest on the performer. Fitzwilliam glanced over, noted that Miss Elizabeth’s song had ended, prompting the applause of the company. She smiled and thanked them, and then turned the instrument over to Miss Mary, who began to play in her stead.
“Yes, it has seemed to me you have favored Miss Elizabeth tonight.” The woman laughed, a harsh sound, and said: “Can it be that you have found your future wife in this insignificant speck of a town?”
Fitzwilliam laughed at her sally, saying: “That is amusing, Miss Bingley, for it proves how soon a woman entertains thoughts of matrimony. I like Miss Elizabeth very well, indeed, for she is a bright light. But while I have not known her long, I believe I may state with no hesitation that I do not believe she would be right for me.”
“I cannot but find your reply sensible,” said Miss Bingley, seeming to believe she had scored a significant victory.
“Perhaps it is,” said Fitzwilliam with a shrug. “There is nothing the matter with Miss Elizabeth, and should something develop between us, I suspect we would do very well together.
“The more I think about it, however, the more I suspect Darcy would find her irresistible.”
It was a musing comment, one he had made without thinking about in advance. Miss Bingley was horrified, her face turning chalk-white at the thought. The sight diverted Fitzwilliam, but he did not wish to torment the woman, though her behavior was, at times, more predatory than demure.
“That is nothing more than nonsense,” said she, her tone sharper than he thought she had intended. “Mr. Darcy has far more sense than to entangle himself with someone of Miss Elizabeth’s ilk.”
“You speak of her as if she is a scullery maid, Miss Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam, fixing her with a significant look. “Though Meryton is a small community and I doubt she spends much time in town, she is a gentleman’s daughter, with all the status that entails. Do not make the mistake of believing her unworthy because she does not make frequent appearances in London’s sitting-rooms. To many—Darcy included—that would be an advantage rather than a detriment.”
“I see,” said Miss Bingley, though it was clear she did not.
The way Miss Bingley was glaring now at Miss Elizabeth—who was currently speaking with Captain Carter—Fitzwilliam wondered if he had just done his new acquaintance a disservice. Then again, Fitzwilliam had every confidence in Miss Elizabeth’s ability to defend herself against the likes of Miss Bingley. Perhaps it was kinder to be cruel for the moment and point out the flaws in her thinking.
“I cannot speak for Darcy, Miss Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam, pulling her attention back to him. “But I will remind you I know my cousin better than any man alive. Yes, I suspect Darcy will enjoy Miss Elizabeth’s company, for she is intelligent and interesting, something Darcy claims he does not find often in young society ladies. If nothing else, she has some of the finest eyes I have ever seen, and I suspect Darcy will agree with me.”
“That is interesting, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said the woman, projecting false joviality. “I would never have imagined it.”
Miss Bingley stepped away, leaving Fitzwilliam watching after her, wondering what he could do to prevent her from making a fool of herself. Not that she was entirely reprehensible—on the contrary, there were some definite benefits to her situation. But there were also drawbacks. Had she not been so intent upon climbing society’s ladder, Fitzwilliam might have considered pursuing her himself, for her dowry would be a welcome addition to his coffers when he took up the reins of his estate. But her occasional nastiness was not an attractive trait, nor was her tendency to denigrate others to bolster her image.
“What did you say to Miss Bingley, Cousin?” asked Georgiana as she approached him, scattering his thoughts asunder. “I dare say she fled from you with her tail between her legs, and is, even now, sitting with her sister looking about as if everyone in the room has mortally offended her.”
A glance at Miss Bingley proved his cousin’s words, and Fitzwilliam could not help but grin at the sight. “Yes, she appears to be less than amused. But then again, she always appears that way, does she not?”
“I suppose she does,” said Georgiana, “though her glares at Elizabeth have increased in intensity. Did you say something to her to provoke such a response?”
“Yes, Georgiana,” said Fitzwilliam, giving his young cousin a rueful smile. “I am afraid I did. In a moment of inattention, I informed her that I thought Darcy will admire Miss Elizabeth when he meets her. You can imagine how she would have taken that assertion.”
“William and Miss Elizabeth?” asked Georgiana, seeming dumbfounded. “William never pays attention to any woman.”
“That is true,” said Fitzwilliam with a low chuckle. “But consider that William always claims that young ladies possess little intelligence and less ability to speak of matters of any interest. Can you ascribe either failing to Miss Elizabeth?”
“No,” said Georgiana, deep in thought.
“Then add her lively character and her beautiful eyes and you have a recipe for an attachment on Darcy’s side, at least. Whether Miss Elizabeth would like Darcy, I cannot say as I have only met her today. But I cannot think she would be indifferent to him.”
Georgiana did not reply to Fitzwilliam’s assertion, and soon she had taken up a position beside Miss Elizabeth and began speaking with her again. Fitzwilliam considered what he should do when Darcy arrived. His cousin would see through any attempt to induce him to take a liking to the lady and would balk. But perhaps a little subtle praising of the woman’s virtues would induce his cousin to consider her through eyes unprejudiced. Suddenly, Fitzwilliam could not wait for Darcy to arrive.
Chapter III
A few days after the party at Lucas Lodge, a note arrived from Netherfield. It was addressed to Jane, and, as their mother remarked, had been written in a very elegant hand. When Jane opened the missive, she smiled with pleasure.
“It is from Miss Bingley. She has invited Lizzy and me to Netherfield for dinner tonight.”
“Both of us?” asked Elizabeth with some surprise. “I had the distinct impression at Lucas Lodge that she did not much care for me, for her behavior turned cold, though I could not understand why.”
“I saw nothing of it, Lizzy. Either way, the invitation includes us both.”
Of course, Jane would see nothing of it, for she was inclined to see the best in others. Elizabeth knew her sister was not a simpleton, nor was she unobservant. However, Jane believed others were good, and she little liked it when poor behavior was proven to her. It was the one trait of her sister’s which both delighted Elizabeth and exasperated her.
“I suppose,” said Mr. Bennet, regarding his two eldest daughters with affection, “that you will wish for me to send for the coach.”
“Of course, they must go by coach,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It looks like rain outside, and though I know Lizzy would prefer to walk, I cannot have my daughters appear at Netherfield looking like vagabonds.”
“Yes, that would be inadvisable, indeed,” said Mr. Bennet, winking at Elizabeth. “Then I suppose you must bow to your parents’ great wisdom and travel in our poor carriage, Lizzy.”
“Oh, Papa,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head at his teasing. “I like to walk, but you know I should never answer an invitation such as this with an intention to traverse there on my own feet.”
“I should be quite put out with you if you did!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, showing a hint of that excitable nature she sometimes displayed. “I have taught my daughters better than that, Mr. Bennet—please remember that.”
“Never would I have suggested anything different, Mrs. Bennet,” replied the master, fixing his wife with a fond look. “Our girls are both well-mannered and beautiful, and I dare say none of them have ever done anything to embarrass us. We are as blessed as anyone in the district.”
Nothing he said could have drawn greater approval from Mrs. Bennet, for she was proud of her progeny and took great satisfaction that she had produced the most beautiful girls in the neighborhood. With a shake of her head, Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane and rose from the table, their breakfast completed.
That afternoon, as they prepared to depart, Mrs. Bennet came to Elizabeth’s room to speak to her. As was her wont, she spent a few moments fussing over Elizabeth’s appearance, adjusting her dress or inspecting her hair, but when she finished, she nodded with satisfaction.
“You look wonderful, my dear. There is little doubt you and Jane will represent our family well.”
“Is there ever any occasion in which we do not?” asked Elizabeth.
“No, there you are correct. You both are wonderful girls—as good as any who have graced rooms finer than anything Netherfield can boast.”
Mrs. Bennet paused and chewed her lip for a moment, and then fixed Elizabeth with a wry smile. “It seems to me—though I would not injure you by supposing you, my most perceptive daughter, have not noticed it—that Miss Bingley does not favor our family.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded. “I have noticed, Mama. Not only is she supercilious and even nasty at times, but I noted her particular disgust for me at the party at Lucas Lodge.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed. “The woman has a very high opinion of herself. It shows a lack of understanding; it is difficult to imagine that she considers herself higher than the daughters of a gentleman.”
“Wealth gives those who possess it all the leave they require to think meanly of others. I have heard it said that Miss Bingley possesses a handsome dowry.”
“It is nothing compared to what your friend, Miss Darcy, possesses, or so I have heard.”
“Which proves that wealth does not always provoke great pride,” replied Elizabeth.
Mrs. Bennet nodded. “Then I shall trust you to support your sister, for Jane will see nothing untoward in Miss Bingley’s behavior.”
With a sigh, knowing it was true, Elizabeth nodded and kissed her mother’s cheek, promising to support Jane against Miss Bingley should it be necessary. A few moments later, the sisters had boarded the Bennet carriage for the brief journey to Netherfield.
At Netherfield, the three ladies greeted them, though it appeared the gentlemen were not present. Mrs. Hurst was as detached as she ever was, greeting them with perfect politeness but no warmth, whereas Georgiana was the opposite, her eager greetings testifying to her delight at seeing them. For her part, Miss Bingley watched them, though Elizabeth could not decide if she thought Miss Bingley expected them to ask after the gentlemen. If she expected it, she was to be disappointed. She did not mention their absence, and Elizabeth and Jane were too polite to ask after them. Thus, it was from Georgiana that Elizabeth learned the reason for their nonattendance.
“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst are attending dinner with the officers tonight,” said Georgiana when they seated themselves together in Netherfield’s sitting-room. “My cousin invited them the day after the Lucas Lodge party.”
The implications of the invitation to dine, the very day the gentlemen were to be absent, were clear at once to Elizabeth. She thought Georgiana understood herself, for she darted a quick look at the sisters, who were speaking with Jane, before turning back to Elizabeth.
“It has seemed to me that Miss Bingley has anticipated this evening greatly, though I cannot say what she expects to happen. I cannot accuse her of ulterior motives, but something in her behavior is not what I would expect.”
“Perhaps she wishes to know us better,” said Elizabeth, attempting diplomacy. “When Mr. Bingley is together with my sister, neither has any attention for anyone else.”
Georgiana laughed, drawing Miss Bingley’s attention—and her sneer at Elizabeth. “Yes, I suppose you must be correct.” Then Georgiana’s countenance turned serious again. “I hope, however, you are not as trusting as your sister appears to be, Elizabeth. I do not accuse Miss Bingley of anything specific, but some of the comments I have heard these past few days tell me she is not a friend to her brother’s interest in your sister.”
“That, my dear Georgiana, I have known since almost the first moment of our acquaintance.”
The five ladies stayed in this attitude for some time, and while Elizabeth received annoyed glances from Miss Bingley from time to time—for it appeared the lady liked her friendship with Georgiana no better than she had before—she appeared to concentrate more on Jane than Elizabeth. Enjoying her conversation with Georgiana as she did, Elizabeth attempted to take little notice of Miss Bingley.
“It is now definite that my brother will arrive next week,” said Georgiana after they had been sitting together for some time.
Elizabeth smiled at her young friend. “You must anticipate his arrival very much.”
“I do,” confirmed Georgiana. “My brother is the best of men, you see, and I am very fond of him. William is not a voluble man—in many ways he is much like I am.” Georgiana’s countenance attained a hint of a blush. “He has much more confidence than I have ever possessed. Once you come to know him, however, I am certain you will see him in the same light as I do.”
“With such recommendation as this,” said Elizabeth, amused at Georgiana’s hero-like worship of her brother, “I cannot wait to meet him. Perhaps we can, between us, assist Mr. Darcy in becoming more comfortable with the neighborhood.”
A beaming smile was Georgiana’s response, followed by an emphatically stated: “Yes, that is it. With your ability to make everyone about you comfortable, I cannot imagine it is beyond your ability to assist my brother too.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Then I shall do my best, Georgiana, for I would not wish him to find us all wanting.”
While they rema
ined in the sitting-room before dinner, Georgiana continued to speak of her brother. Had it come from Miss Bingley, Elizabeth might have considered another motive for the excessive praise which Georgiana lavished on her brother. In her friend, however, Elizabeth could see a devotion one often saw in a younger sibling for one much older, and as such, she listened to Georgiana’s account; if even half of what Georgiana said was true, Mr. Darcy must be a fine man, indeed.
A little later, they were called in to dinner. It had been, Elizabeth expected, ordered with an eye toward making an impression—or perhaps overwhelming what she considered her simpler guests—for Miss Bingley’s meal was of three courses. Elizabeth, seeing this and noting Georgiana’s amusement, fixed her friend with an amused grin and a roll of her eyes. Then Miss Bingley’s conversation became intrusive, proving Elizabeth’s suspicions.
“I understand you do not have much family, Miss Bennet,” said the woman after the servants had cleared the soup away and placed the second course before them.
“And I have heard that you have a large one,” said Elizabeth, deflecting the woman’s inquisition with a grin. “Or I believe I heard Mrs. Hurst speak of cousins, aunts, uncles, and all sorts of other Bingley relations.”
“That is true,” said Mrs. Hurst, much to her sister’s exasperation. “Our father had four brothers reach adulthood, and my mother’s family is, likewise, large. There are so many that it is sometimes difficult to keep track of them all.”
“That must be wonderful,” said Georgiana, a wistful note in her voice. “While the Darcy family have connections aplenty, we have few near relations. Our nearest Darcy family is several generations removed, and my mother only had two siblings—my uncle, the earl, and my aunt, who lives in Kent.”
“It is sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse,” said Mrs. Hurst with a fond look at Georgiana. “Though I can understand why you would wish for more with such a small family.”