by Jann Rowland
With that thought in mind, Wickham pushed his pique aside and turned to Denny. “There has been little society in this neighborhood since I arrived.”
Denny laughed. “Perhaps not, but to hear our fellow officers speak of it, there will be plenty to come.”
“Are you familiar with many of the families here?”
“Not as much as some of the others,” replied Denny. “If you will recall, my father called me home not long after our arrival here.”
“But you have some knowledge.”
“I suppose I do,” replied Denny.
“Then what is the lay of the land? Are there any ladies worth pursuing?”
Once again, Denny released an amused chortle. “That is what I have always liked about you, Wickham—you are entirely predictable. Still looking for some way to make your fortune, are you?”
“A man must always watch for ways to improve his lot,” replied Wickham piously.
“That is the truth, my friend. The sad fact is there is little fortune in this neighborhood. Most of the estates nearby are small, and few of the ladies have much dowry.”
Wickham wished to scowl at this news, but he held his countenance. Then Denny mentioned a potential lifeline.
“There is, I understand, one young lady of some fortune in the neighborhood.”
“Oh?” asked Wickham, feigning nonchalance. “And who is she?”
“A woman whose brother has leased an estate nearby of late,” replied Denny. “His name is Bingley, and his sister is said to have a fortune of twenty thousand pounds. Before you hare off in pursuit of this woman, you should know that she is said to possess a disposition sour enough to make any man flee in terror.”
Denny laughed at his own joke, but Wickham decided against responding. There had been many times when he had tamed even the most caustic tongues, and he did not think this Miss Bingley would be any different.
Subsequent inquiries on the subject changed Wickham’s outlook, especially one piece of crucial information on which he happened by chance. The officers of the regiment were a talkative bunch, and while the cynical might say they were all intent upon securing whatever prizes existed for themselves, most had no compunction at all against sharing what they knew of the local ladies.
“Oh, aye,” said a Lieutenant Sanderson, a rosy-cheeked boy who was about as capable of wooing a woman as a boy of fourteen. “Miss Bingley is something of a legend around these parts, even though she has only lived here for fewer than two months.”
“That bad?” asked Wickham, attempting not to wince.
“She can flay the skin from a man’s bones from forty paces with naught but her sharp tongue. Poor Richards, before he left, made the mistake of approaching her at a party; she sent him away with his tail between his legs for his trouble. All you will receive from Miss Bingley is frostbite and a stinging set down. I would avoid her if I were you.”
But Wickham learned the most disheartening piece of information from his superior, Captain Carter. Though Wickham had not asked Carter concerning Miss Bingley, her demeanor or her dowry, another fact Wickham had not known became clear when the man made an offhand comment.
“Bingley is an agreeable man, friendly and obliging. His sister is not his equal but if a man steers clear of her, he should be well enough. And I understand he has friends staying with him now.”
“Friends?” asked Wickham, wondering if there might be another possibility.
“Yes,” replied Carter. “A woman of considerable fortune, or so I understand. I have not met her, though I have heard she is still full young.”
A sinking feeling appeared in the pit of Wickham’s stomach, which only became worse at Carter’s next statement. “It is also said her brother will join them soon. In fact, he may already be here.”
Wickham nodded and made some innocuous comment, his thoughts turning inward. Darcy! This Bingley must be his friend, and Georgiana must be staying with them. Of all the cursed luck!
Caught up in the misery of the situation, Wickham considered the matter for some moments, wondering what he should do. Pursuing Georgiana was out of the question, and given the Darcys’ proximity to Miss Bingley, it would be difficult to make any inroads with her either. What a foul situation this was!
In the end, Wickham decided there was nothing he could do other than to watch and act according to what he saw. If this Miss Bingley was as his fellows told him, Darcy might not have any interest in her. The bastard was never interested in any woman! Though he had made it his mission in life to put obstacles in Wickham’s path, surely, he would not prevent Wickham from bettering his lot? While Darcy would not allow eloping or compromising her, if Wickham succeeded in winning her affection, little likely though that seemed, Darcy would not interfere.
It was all he had.
Darcy’s first sight of Longbourn was positive. Rising over the surrounding trees he caught a glimpse of the manor house as the coach in which they traveled departed the road through the village and entered a drive, which was even and well-maintained. The house itself was a typical manor house of the lower gentry, its walls constructed of reddish stone, ivy climbing its surface, lending it an air of distinction and respectable age. Around the back of the manor was a large open grassy area, surrounded by groves of trees, and the hint of a small garden. It was nothing to Pemberley—it did not even compare favorably with what he had seen of Netherfield. It was, however, a picturesque location, its state of repair speaking to the industrious nature of its inhabitants, the pride of one’s possessions, and the respect for one’s forebears.
“What do you say to that, Mr. Darcy?” said Miss Bingley. A glance at the woman told Darcy her impression of the sight before them was not as complimentary as his had been. “It is quaint, I suppose, but these people are nothing compared with those with whom we should associate.”
For a moment, Darcy considered what he might say in response. While he could speak of his own impressions, Darcy knew it would not stifle the woman’s vitriol. Thus, he decided brevity was the best option.
“It is a picturesque setting, Miss Bingley. Other than that, I shall wait to meet its inhabitants before I come to any conclusions.”
That the woman did not appreciate his cautious statement was without question. Darcy’s bland response had achieved his objective, for Miss Bingley sniffed with her usual measure of disdain. A moment later, the carriage jerked to a halt in front of the manor and Darcy exited, handing his sister from within while Bingley provided the same service to Miss Bingley, much to her annoyance.
The interior of the estate did not contradict Darcy’s initial impression. The entrance was clean and spacious, the décor understated, but fine. There was a hall at the far-left end of the room leading further into the house where the housekeeper led them to a door on the right, which led to what Darcy assumed was the estate’s main sitting-room.
When the housekeeper led them within, the family—five younger women along with an older couple, as Georgiana had informed him—rose to greet them. Bingley performed the introductions in his usual cheery manner, and while Darcy noted the names, it was Miss Elizabeth, of whom he heard so much, who caught his attention.
The laughing eyes of which both his cousin and Georgiana had spoken were crinkled in amusement, a circumstance Darcy suspected was a common occurrence. Her fine, mahogany hair had been tied back in a simple style, and her dress, of a much simpler design than Miss Bingley’s elaborate costume, suited her from the cut to the color. Had Darcy met her without hearing any earlier intelligence of what to expect, he might not have given much thought to her at first. Forewarned as he was, Darcy examined her, though as unobtrusively as he could, and he concluded that she was not only intelligent and interesting but the entirety of her figure, face, eyes, and character made her irresistible. Within moments, Darcy knew he would enjoy coming to know her—and this without having exchanged anything but the barest of greetings!
“Mrs. Bennet,” said Bingley as Darcy was musing a
bout his first impressions of Miss Elizabeth, “we have come today to invite your family to attend a ball we will hold at Netherfield on Tuesday next.”
With a flourish, Bingley produced the invitation and passed it to the estate’s mistress, who looked down at the elegant card. There were many small society wives, Darcy knew, who were of mean intelligence, indifferent temperament, and of flighty dispositions. Mrs. Bennet was, it seemed, none of these things, for after reading the card, she looked up at Bingley and smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley, for your gracious invitation. We should be happy to attend, although,” the mistress turned her gaze on two of her girls, who, based on the order of introduction, were the youngest, “as Kitty and Lydia are not yet out, their presence is yet to be determined.”
The way the youngest pouted, Darcy suspected she was at a difficult age and not afraid to show her displeasure, though the next youngest was also unhappy. That she did not protest, however, showed her mother had taught her some manners. To Darcy’s vast surprise, Georgiana’s voice interrupted his musings.
“I am to attend, Mrs. Bennet, and I am not much older than Miss Lydia, though my brother has insisted on some restrictions. Perhaps Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia may attend under the same?”
It was clear Georgiana’s words had surprised both parents. Mr. Bennet exchanged a glance with his wife, and when the gentleman shrugged, Mrs. Bennet turned and asked her the details. Within a few brief moments, Mrs. Bennet learned of Georgiana’s restrictions and gave her permission for the two youngest Bennets to attend, much to their pleasure. Both girls were effusive in their thanks, and for a few moments, they sat together chatting about the upcoming amusement and what they might expect.
After this, Georgiana approached Miss Elizabeth, and they exchanged a few friendly words. It surprised Darcy once again, for this differed greatly from the shy, withdrawn girl she had been since the incident that summer with Wickham. Then they turned toward Darcy and approached.
“Brother, this is my close friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Georgiana when they stood before him.
“Yes, Georgiana,” replied Darcy, injecting a hint of humor into his voice, “I do remember the introduction.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed. “You did not inform me your brother possessed teasing manners, Georgiana.”
“Teasing? My brother?” Georgiana shook her head, fixing Darcy with a sly, devious look. “Anthony is the teasing one. William is accounted as being more serious than jocular.”
“Is that so, Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Elizabeth. “Given your cousin’s propensity for mischief, I would think you would have developed your own, if for nothing else than to match his witticisms.”
“I am not devoid of the ability for jesting, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy, “despite anything my cousin or my sister might say. There are, however, times for banter and times to be serious.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “One cannot go about life with nothing but a grin on one’s face, for life can be a profound business. But I must say that I much prefer to laugh than the reverse; the cares of life are so much easier to bear when faced with a laugh. Do you not agree?”
Charmed, Darcy replied: “I do. Gravity is appropriate in certain circumstances, but what are we here for if not to enjoy our lives?”
“Then what do you enjoy, sir? Do you have favorite pastimes, authors, music, or the like that we may discuss?”
As it turned out, there were several tastes Darcy had in common with this lively young miss. While they were both devotees of Shakespeare, they differed in their tastes, Darcy preferring the histories while Miss Elizabeth loved the comedies. Neither was a lover of poetry, though both agreed there was some merit in it, and while Darcy preferred Bach and Handel, Miss Elizabeth loved Mozart and Beethoven. Of the more physical sort of activity, Darcy was an avid rider, and while Miss Elizabeth informed him she could ride when pressed, she much preferred the exercise gained by using her own two legs. While they had yet to discuss any weightier topics which Fitzwilliam had informed him were her specialty, Darcy liked her very much after only a few moments of conversation.
In time, the sound of a ponderous voice nearby interrupted their conversation, one that had been droning like the buzz of a bee on the edges of Darcy’s consciousness for some time. Turning, Darcy saw a tall man, dressed in the black garb of a cleric, standing close to Miss Bingley, speaking in a weighty voice. Miss Bingley, it appeared, was not pleased.
“Yes, that is correct, Miss Bingley. The parsonage which I call my home is an excellent building, standing as it is in a grove of oak trees, with a picturesque view of my patroness’s estate in the distance. The parsonage itself is neither too small nor too large for a man of my position in society and while those who do not know me might wonder if it is too much for a bachelor such as myself, they do not understand that I mean to marry as soon as may be. With a wife and several children running about, why, it might become too small after a time!”
The parson laughed, the only one understanding his words to be a jest. “As such, it is fortunate that I am the heir of this fine estate, for I can provide a fine position which any woman must covet. My cousin, though he appears healthy at present, will become infirm before long, I have little doubt, so my inheritance cannot be far off. It is a desirable estate, do you not agree?”
Though it was clear to Darcy that Miss Bingley did not agree, the lady refrained from speaking, though her poisonous look at the parson spoke volumes. The parson, however, did not notice, and when the lady tried to move away, he moved to intercept her, his words not ceasing for an instant.
“Let me tell you of my patroness’s estate, Miss Bingley, for it is a jewel of a place, situated on a bit of rising land, and by no means lacking in windows. Why, I have it on good authority that when she redecorated the dining room of late—a room which must be the pinnacle of all such chambers now—she spent in excess of one hundred pounds on the materials.”
It was a curious subject for a parson, for, in Darcy’s experience, most talked of the evils of covetousness or lust for wealth. As he continued to speak to the unfortunate Miss Bingley, Darcy turned back to Miss Elizabeth, surprised to see her watching the scene with amusement, which, when she noticed Darcy’s attention on her, changed to the rosy cheeks of embarrassment.
“I believe the gentleman was introduced as your cousin, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy.
“Yes,” replied she, her cheeks still flaming, but turning her attention back to Darcy. “Mr. Collins is my father’s heir and is visiting us for a time.”
“He seems a little . . .” Darcy paused, searching for the word. “Well, his words do not convey the usual messages the clergy try to impart.”
Miss Elizabeth snickered and rolled her eyes. “No, they do not. Furthermore, Mr. Collins is a man . . . let us say he is not the most sensible of men. When he arrived, he informed us he is searching for a wife. My sisters and I cannot be more grateful we are not in contention for the position.”
Miss Elizabeth delivered the comment with such wryness, Darcy could not fail to laugh—his sister joined in the merriment. “Yes, I can imagine how that would be a relief.”
Darcy turned to consider the parson and his unwilling audience again. “Is this the first time Mr. Collins has been introduced to Miss Bingley?”
Once again Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks attained a reddish hue. “It is.” Darcy and Georgiana both looked at her askance, which increased her blush all that much more.
“Mr. Collins asked me about those of the neighborhood,” explained she, though in a slow cadence, clearly still embarrassed. “It seems he wishes to marry a woman of fortune to further improve his own position. The difficulty for Mr. Collins is that there are no ladies here who possess large dowries.”
“Except for Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, catching on to her meaning.
He and Georgiana laughed merrily, catching Miss Bingley’s attention and earning them a sour look for their temerity. Mr. Collins, h
owever, took no notice and continued to ply her with his droning speech.
“She is the only lady here who might fit his criterion,” replied Miss Elizabeth, this time her embarrassment replaced with a grin. “If she chooses not to encourage him, that is her business; I only provided the information he requested.”
“Trust me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, “I do not disagree. Perhaps, with Mr. Collins in attendance—and I feel he will be a constant presence whether or not she wishes it—I can enjoy a peaceful visit in the country.”
In keeping with the impression she had given him as an intelligent woman, Miss Elizabeth caught his meaning at once. “You have a suitor, do you, Mr. Darcy? Given some of the comments she has made in my hearing, I never would have guessed she finds you to be a very agreeable man.”
All three laughed together again. Their gaiety drew Miss Bingley’s attention yet again, and Mr. Collins even deigned to look in their direction. Then the gentleman shrugged and began his monologue yet again, speaking of his parsonage—the stairs, unless Darcy misheard him. After another few moments of this, Miss Bingley’s patience snapped.
“How fortunate you have such an excellent position, sir. It sounds like a perfect situation for one of your cousins; perhaps Miss Elizabeth is suited to become the mistress of your home?”
“Oh, I could never marry one of my cousins,” said Mr. Collins, waving his hand with airy unconcern. “I require much more from a woman than they could provide.”
Miss Bingley stared at him, her disbelief turning to anger, and she turned, stalking away from him in high dudgeon. Mr. Collins, however, was not about to allow her to escape, for he followed her, calling: “But Miss Bingley, you have not yet heard of my roses and petunias!”
This last sent the three companions into gales of laughter. “How fortunate for Miss Bingley that she has such an ardent admirer!” exclaimed Georgiana.
“How fortunate, indeed,” replied Miss Elizabeth, her eyes shining with mirth.