The Challenge of Entail

by Jann Rowland

  With a few more words of farewell, Darcy soon seated himself within his conveyance, which proceeded down the street. Bingley had traveled to London on his horse for the sake of speed and expediency, so they were to return together. Thus, Darcy made his way to his friend’s house, pulling up some time later and entering the house in search of his friend.

  “You are right on time, as usual,” greeted Bingley. “If you will give me a moment, I shall join you directly.”

  Darcy nodded while Bingley gave a final few instructions to his butler, and soon he was ready to go. His friend, Darcy noted, was as eager as he felt, for Bingley was not usually one to arise as early as this. Thoughts of his own Bennet sister must dominate his mind to rouse him to movement this early. Whatever the case, Darcy was grateful for it, for he did not think he possessed the patience that morning to roust his friend from his bed.

  It was as they were preparing to leave the house that the fly in the ointment of the apothecary presented itself in a person Darcy least wished to see. The outside door opened, and before either man could make any comment, Miss Bingley breezed in as if floating on air. Her predatory gaze fell on them, and she donned a smile, which Darcy instantly determined was false, and approached them, a spring in her step.

  “Oh, how good it is to be back in our home! I see you are on hand to greet me, Charles, Mr. Darcy. I thank you for this warm reception.”

  “Warm reception?” demanded Bingley, finding his tongue sooner than Darcy might have thought. “We were about to depart for Hertfordshire. What in the blazes are you doing here? And where are Louisa and Hurst?”

  Miss Bingley sniffed in disdain. “I left them in Hertfordshire, though I know they will be eager to return themselves before long. As for my presence, you know I care nothing for Netherfield.”

  “Perhaps you do not,” said Bingley, an icy note in his voice. “But I most certainly do.”

  “It will still be there if we decide to return,” said Miss Bingley with an airy wave of her hand. “Now, I shall go change and take charge of the house, and we shall settle in. Though there is a dearth of acceptable society during the little season, I am certain we have invitations aplenty. And I wish to visit the London museum and perhaps attend a play and an opera. I am certain we shall have no difficulty in finding amusements with which to occupy ourselves.

  “Mr. Darcy, is your sister still in town? I long to once again be in her company, for I consider her to be the most wonderful young girl in all of England. She, I am sure, would be pleased if you stayed to attend her.”

  Darcy exchanged a look with Bingley. It was no more than a glance, but Darcy thought his friend understood the meaning it conveyed, for Darcy was prepared to return to Hertfordshire and live in the inn, if necessary. Bingley nodded in understanding, no more prepared to stay and cater to his sister’s whims than Darcy.

  “I must confess, Caroline,” said Bingley, interrupting her constant stream of words, “you have done many senseless, selfish things before, but this might be the worst.”

  “What are you saying, Charles?” asked she, a nervous glance at Darcy revealing her anxiety. Her worries must not have been assuaged at all, for Darcy felt nothing but contempt for her transparent machinations.

  “What time did you leave this morning? It must have been early, given the time it is now. To force our servants to attend to you at such an early hour, to travel in the darkness when it is unnecessary—and all for what? To keep Darcy and me in town? You have failed, Sister, for we have no intention of being held here against our will.”

  “Charles,” said Miss Bingley, speaking as if he was a small child, “it would be better to stay in London, so you may regain your perspective. There is nothing for you in Hertfordshire at present. Why,” the woman continued, “when Miss Bennet was informed of your departure, she said nothing. Nothing! The only reason she has accepted your attentions at all is to obtain your fortune.”

  “I doubt that since she is independent and need not respond with anything other than inclination.”

  “And you, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, ignoring her brother’s words, “I know Miss Eliza has impressed you with her impertinent tongue and witty rejoinders, but she is not the sort of woman with whom the Bingley and Darcy families should be associating. If you stay in town for a time, I am certain you will see this too.”

  “Your certainty is misplaced,” was Darcy’s short reply. “And let me inform you, Miss Bingley, so there is no mistake—I am the only one who may determine the suitability of the Darcy family’s acquaintances, and I will thank you not to suggest otherwise.”

  Miss Bingley opened her mouth to say something else, but Bingley did not allow it. “Caroline, my offer to set up your own establishment is still in force. However, I shall not do it now, for I am expected back in Hertfordshire. If you cannot tolerate the neighborhood in which I make my home, you may visit Aunt Esther in Scarborough.”

  That put an end to the woman’s complaining, for as Darcy knew, she despised the place of her origins, would not visit her family unless under duress, and particularly loathed visiting her aunt’s house. Miss Bingley glared at Bingley, but he took no notice, instead stepping outside and giving directions for his sister’s items—it appeared like she had brought everything she owned with her—to be moved to Darcy’s carriage.

  “I hope you do not mind, Darcy. Since my horses were put to use very early this morning, I prefer to leave them here to rest a day or two.” Bingley’s dark look at his sister was followed by: “Luckily, we shall not be without means of traveling in Hertfordshire, as Hurst’s carriage will be there too.”

  “Oh, I cannot possibly return to Hertfordshire now,” said Caroline. “The journey this morning has rendered me fatigued. Let us return tomorrow.”

  “Your fatigue does not concern me a jot,” growled Bingley. “Your actions led to it, which leaves me unmoved. Either return to Hertfordshire this instant or return to Hertfordshire this instant and continue on to Scarborough tomorrow. It is your choice, Caroline.”

  It was no surprise when Miss Bingley chose the former option, though with as little grace as she ever displayed. Soon, Bingley’s carriage was making its way to the carriage house, and Darcy’s, with two more passengers than expected—Miss Bingley and her maid—departed for Hertfordshire. It took little discernment to perceive Miss Bingley’s pique. Had she deigned to look, she would have understood neither gentleman cared for her anger.

  The morning of Mr. Darcy’s expected return to Hertfordshire, the Bennet sisters received a note, once again inviting them to Netherfield for the morning. Though they had visited the day before and did not wish to impose, Mrs. Bennet pointed out an invitation precluded the notion of imposition.

  “Mrs. Hurst would not have invited you if she did not wish for your company,” said the lady. “Go and visit with her—I am certain you will enjoy yourselves.”

  Thus, it was settled, and once the carriage arrived, they entered for the short journey to their friend’s home. The carriage trundled along the road toward Meryton, past Lucas Lodge and into the town itself, before taking the northeast road toward Netherfield. While they were passing through, Elizabeth, who had been looking out the window, happened to notice Lieutenants Denny and Sanderson in the town, speaking with the Long sisters. The former looked up as they passed and sketched a bow at the carriage, and Elizabeth, who was the only one watching, returned his greeting with a nod of her head. The Bennets had seen little of the officers of late, and Elizabeth could not repine their loss. While Mr. Denny was not the level of despicable man that Mr. Wickham was, their friendship did not speak well to his character.

  A few minutes later, they sighted manor house in the distance, and they approached the front doors, seeing Mrs. Hurst standing on the stairs waiting for them. They alighted and exchanged greetings all around, Mrs. Hurst inviting them inside with pleasure and eagerness. It was only when they had reached the comforts of the sitting-room that Elizabeth
realized Miss Bingley’s absence, rather than not wishing to meet them at the door, was a matter of more significance.

  “Will Miss Bingley be joining us?” asked Jane after they had sat and visited for several moments.

  The way Mrs. Hurst’s color rose at the mention of her sister was not missed by any of them, but the woman responded in a creditable manner. “My sister left for London very early this morning.”

  Jane frowned, but Mary and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, each understanding the reason for Miss Bingley’s sudden departure. Though dearly wishing she could indulge in a laugh, Elizabeth kept her composure, if only to spare Mrs. Hurst any further mortification.

  “I hope her journey is pleasant and safe,” replied Jane not knowing how to respond. “Do you expect her return before long?”

  “It is uncertain,” replied Mrs. Hurst. “However, I believe it will not be long. Charles sent us a note yesterday confirming his presence in London for the night and his return today in Mr. Darcy’s company.”

  “You must be eager to have everyone back, Mrs. Hurst,” said Elizabeth. “You were a party of five, and now you are only two.”

  Mrs. Hurst smiled with gratitude. “Yes, that is exactly it. I do not suppose Caroline’s business will take much time to complete, so I would almost expect her to return with the gentlemen this morning.”

  “Then we shall hope for their safe arrival,” replied Elizabeth.

  While Elizabeth could not find it in her heart to wish Miss Bingley ill and longed for the gentlemen’s return—or at least that of one gentleman—a little further thought on the matter informed her it may not be best for the Bennet sisters to be on hand should Miss Bingley return in her brother’s company. How she would behave was uncertain but given what Elizabeth thought was a desperate attempt to keep them away from Hertfordshire, she did not think the woman would be pleasant. Thus, it would behoove them to absent themselves before any chance of meeting her could come to pass.

  The problem, as Elizabeth saw it, was that Mrs. Hurst enjoyed their company. Watching as she was, while Mrs. Hurst spoke in an animated fashion with Jane, her hands gesturing to make some point or another, Elizabeth knew whatever confidence had subsisted between the sisters in the past had been set aside. Whatever opinion Caroline Bingley had of the neighborhood, it did not appear that Mrs. Hurst shared it—or she did not share Miss Bingley’s opinion of the Bennets. Thus, Elizabeth had no wish to offend her or give her the wrong impression of their early retreat.

  It was with these thoughts Elizabeth took part in their morning visit in the company of Mrs. Hurst, though Mr. Hurst made an appearance for a few moments. The ladies spoke of fashion and local society, they played and sang and laughed together, and spent some time walking the paths of Netherfield’s gardens, talking and laughing. It was a visit much like Elizabeth might have experienced with a friend of longstanding. And when luncheon approached, Mrs. Hurst pressed them to stay.

  “We expect my brother and sister after luncheon,” said the lady, “and I would appreciate your presence for the noon repast. Then perhaps it would be best if you returned to Longbourn.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her hostess and answered for her sisters: “I believe we would like that very much, Mrs. Hurst. We thank you for your invitation. You must wish to greet your absent family members without an audience.”

  It seemed Mrs. Hurst was as relieved that they had understood her wishes, and Elizabeth thought the woman had shown some greatness of mind in recognizing the need. Thus, when called into luncheon they joined their host and hostess and spent another delightful hour in their company. Then, when they were preparing to leave, and the carriage had been called, Mrs. Hurst approached Elizabeth with a tentative smile.

  “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for understanding the situation and responding accordingly.”

  “It did not take much insight to understand, Mrs. Hurst. Though you are little acquainted with my younger sisters, they can be a trial. I understand completely.”

  “Perhaps that is a bond that connects us,” replied Mrs. Hurst with a nod. “Regardless, I would not wish you to think the opinions I hold in any way resemble my sister’s. Though I am now the wife of a gentleman, I do not forget my origins, nor do I look down on others whose background is different.”

  “I believe, Mrs. Hurst, that a person’s character is much more important than their history. History, of course, has a large influence in character, but I put much more stock in kindness, generosity, and all other virtues, rather than who one’s father was or in what circumstance one was raised.”

  “That is exactly it,” said Mrs. Hurst, grasping Elizabeth’s hands and squeezing them. Then she spoke to all three sisters: “I should like to take this opportunity to invite your entire family to dinner. Would three nights hence be acceptable?”

  “While I am uncertain,” replied Jane for the sisters, “I do not believe we have any other engagements that day. I shall inform my mother and ask her to respond.”

  “Excellent. Now, I believe your carriage awaits. I hope to see you all again soon.”

  The sisters offered similar sentiments and soon departed. As the carriage rumbled down the drive, Elizabeth happened to look back, seeing Mrs. Hurst as she watched them go, her husband having emerged to stand by her side.

  “After meeting Miss Bingley, I was not certain it would be possible,” said Mary, “but I like Mrs. Hurst very well, indeed.”

  “Perhaps Miss Bingley will return from London having realized her manners require mending,” said Jane, ever the optimist.

  Though Elizabeth and Mary glanced at each other, both declined to say anything, for they knew Jane would not be moved in her opinion. It was fortunate that Jane was looking out the window at that moment, for her two sisters could not quite suppress their grins.

  A more miserable journey Darcy had never experienced: not even the long, wearing journeys of three days from Pemberley to London, or the week-long odyssey which took him to the Scotland estate. In those instances, Darcy contended with the cramped confines of carriages not built for his height, bone weariness which set in after many days on the road, or rain or cold or whatever weather nature could conjure. But he had never had to endure a vengeful sister intent upon persuading those who did not wish to be persuaded.

  It was an interesting dichotomy, he supposed, as Miss Bingley droned on about how backward Meryton society was and how awful its people were. Bingley, who was one of the most genial and easy men Darcy had ever known had been cursed with the worst shrew of a sister, while Darcy, who was usually branded as cold and unfeeling, was blessed with a complying and sweet sister, one whom any man would feel fortunate to have. Darcy had endured Bingley’s sister for the sake of their friendship, but his forbearance was coming to an end.

  All might have been ignored, had Miss Bingley chosen to confine her comments to those general to her displeasure. Ignoring her had become something of an art. When she chose to attack one, in particular, who was becoming dear to Darcy’s heart, he was not about to sit in silence and allow her to denigrate at will.

  “You do know, do you not, that Miss Bennet has no inclination toward you, Charles.”

  “Oh?” demanded Bingley, clearly becoming as annoyed with his sister as Darcy. “And how would you know, Caroline? It seems to me you are rarely induced to be civil enough to speak to her.”

  “All anyone requires is a dram of observation,” replied Miss Bingley with a superior sniff. “She smiles, but there is nothing in her eyes, nothing in her posture to suggest she has any affection for you.”

  “You astonish me, Caroline,” said Bingley, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Did you not previously assert that she wished to attach herself to me for those reasons you now think she is indifferent? Is Longbourn not a hovel she wishes to escape for a larger fortune and access to society?”

  Miss Bingley glared at her brother, but when she spoke it was with a flippant tone. “Further reflection and observati
on have forced me to reevaluate my opinion. Mark my word, Charles—if you offer for her, she may be prevailed upon to accept by her awful mother, but she will do so only unwillingly.”

  “I thank you for your insight, Caroline,” said Bingley. “It is unfortunate for you, but I believe I shall trust my own judgment in this matter.”

  With a sniff, Miss Bingley’s eyes flicked to Darcy, and she paused to consider. Darcy, who had been watching her, was unsurprised when she then turned her vitriol on the one who must be a greater impediment to her plans.

  “As for the rest of the family, why there is nothing to recommend them. The girls are all silly and insipid, Mary Bennet a bluestocking, and Miss Eliza, though perhaps she may wish to be a bluestocking, her opinions are not intelligent enough for the designation. The father is sardonic and indifferent, and the mother, a harpy. Lord, I do not know why you favor them so!”

  “I wonder if we are speaking of the same family, Caroline,” rejoined Bingley. “In fact, I find them delightful, their lack of artifice refreshing, and Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary unlike your description. Were your eyes at all open when meeting them?”

  A cold fire burned in Miss Bingley’s eyes. “I never thought my brother could be so blind as this, though you have paid attention to many unsuitable ladies before.” Then her eyes swung to Darcy. “And you, sir. Have you not always striven to uphold the highest standard of behavior? Or perhaps you have been so bewitched, you wish your sister to emulate Kitty and Lydia Bennet.” Miss Bingley snorted, unladylike and disdainful. “Or perhaps she should emulate Eliza Bennet. Heaven knows if you wish her to be a hoyden of the worst sort that last would be the best.”

  “In fact, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, his temper snapping, “I think Georgiana could not find a better example than Miss Elizabeth Bennet, for she is confident and open, two traits with which Georgiana struggles. Like your brother, I have nothing but respect for the Bennets and eagerness to continue my association with them. I would ask you not to continue this, for I have no desire to hear you.