With Love's Light Wings

by Jann Rowland

“You know Caroline will not agree to go to London,” replied his mother.

  “Then she will continue to waste her time.’

  Mrs. Bingley regarded him for several moments before speaking again. “Are you certain of this?”

  “I have had it from the man’s own mouth. The Darcys are a prominent family, one with connections to many in higher society. Darcy’s father married the daughter of an earl, and Darcy himself is expected to make an excellent match. Though we are gentlefolk, we are not so far removed from our roots to render Caroline acceptable.”

  “Yet you aspire to the daughter of a baron,” challenged Mrs. Bingley.

  “Had you not noticed, Mother?” asked Bingley, overflowing with amusement, “the Bennets are not high and mighty like the Darcys. Though Darcy is my friend, I am not blind to his character, and the family is a rather proud lot. Was Lord Arundel any other man than he is, I might have found myself forbidden from speaking to his daughter.”

  “Are you certain of Miss Bennet, Charles? I know you believe yourself in love with the girl, and I have no complaints against her. But Caroline is correct in one respect—you have been Mr. Darcy’s friend for many years.”

  “And if Darcy is willing to be reasonable, I shall be his friend for many more.” Bingley did not need to inform his mother of his firmness of purpose, for he felt it was clear in his stance, his carriage, and the way he spoke without hesitation. It seemed his mother recognized it, for she sighed and nodded.

  “Then I will support you, though you do not need my blessing.”

  “But I should like to have it all the same, Mother,” replied Bingley, favoring her with a smile.

  “You have it,” replied she. “Only take care. I would not end like the Darcys and the Bennets.” When Bingley nodded, she turned the subject back to Caroline. “You know Caroline will not consent to go to London, nor can we bend her to our will.”

  “Caroline is of age,” acknowledged Bingley, “but she is yet a daughter of this house and depends on me for her allowance and the roof over her head. If she proves impervious to reason we can establish her own residence, paid for by her dowry, and she can do as she pleases.”

  “Oh, Charles,” said Mrs. Bingley. “I do not wish to throw her off.”

  “Then she will learn for herself of Darcy’s disinterest, perhaps when he marries. Regardless, I will not have her making trouble for me with Miss Bennet—of that I can assure you.”

  Mrs. Bingley nodded and rose, pressing a kiss to Bingley’s cheek. “I shall do my best to open her eyes. You have made me proud, Charles, for you have grown into a man firm of purpose. I believe your father would have been as proud as I am.”

  Then his mother left the room to search for her daughter, her final words still echoing in Bingley’s ears. As his father had been a good and industrious man, no words could be a greater compliment.

  “That Mr. Bingley is such a pleasant man,” said Lady Margaret that evening as the family was sitting together after dinner. “One might expect him to be the opposite, given his descent, though I suppose the family has owned their estate long enough to have shed some of the traits of the lower classes.”

  Elizabeth shared a look with her elder sister and shook her head, to Jane’s amusement. Their mother’s background was that of the daughter of a landowner, and they knew she was not a supercilious woman, though her elevation to the wife of a peer sometimes led her to speak as if she was.

  “And yet, he appears smitten by our Jane,” said Lord Arundel with a smile at Jane. “Though some might wish for more for their daughters than the scion of tradesmen, I believe we can all agree it is important for her to find happiness in her life.”

  “I thank you, Papa,” said Jane. “As you know, I care nothing for the opinions of society, nor do I wish to marry a man who considers me to be nothing more than a bauble to adorn his arm.”

  “As you proved when you rejected Lord Winchester.” The mirth in Lord Arundel’s eyes made its way to his mouth, for he burst into laughter, his hilarity forcing him to remove his spectacles and wipe at his eyes. “I never saw someone so surprised. That dandy actually thought he would impress you and could not understand why I would not insist upon your marrying him.”

  “That is exactly it, Father,” said Jane, retaining her serenity. “Lord Winchester, as Elizabeth would say, is everything I despise in a man.”

  “He is all that is contemptible,” agreed Elizabeth. “Even so, I am grateful he did not attempt to press his perceived advantage as a future earl to compel Jane to comply.”

  “It would not matter if he had,” replied her father. “Though perhaps I am not as high in society as Winchester, I am not friendless.”

  “Oh, Jane could not have married Lord Winchester,” said their mother, “for I quite detest the man. Mr. Bingley is not so high in society, but he is much more pleasant. He is an excellent suitor for my dear daughter; I give you leave to like him, Jane, for he is all a man should be.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” said Jane, her tone brimming with amusement.

  “It is also beneficial for Mr. Bingley,” added Lady Margaret, “for it removes him from the influence of those awful Darcys. How he must feel fortunate at his escape!”

  “Given how he spoke of the younger Darcy when he was here,” said Lord Arundel in a dry tone, “I cannot but imagine the opposite. It seemed to me he defended his friend with unusual verve and eloquence.”

  “I cannot imagine why. And I believe he will come to appreciate our society rather than the Darcys.”

  “Perhaps he will, my dear. But I, for one, will not ask him to make that choice. The Darcys have been our enemies for many years, but it is a man’s right to choose his own friends, and I shall not gainsay Mr. Bingley that right.”

  “Even if your own daughter will be brought into the Darcys’ influence?”

  “Even then,” was her husband’s response. “Given the manner in which he defended his friend, Mr. Bingley should prove no less protective of a wife. Should Darcy attempt to mistreat Jane, that is how their friendship will end. Thus, I feel no compunction in allowing Mr. Bingley to choose his friends, and to throw them off should it become necessary.”

  With those words, Lord Arundel excused himself and left the sitting-room, likely to seek peace and quiet and his beloved books in the sanctuary of his study. It could not be said that Lord Arundel was a slothful man, but neither was he a diligent one. Books were his greatest love, and he sought their company whenever possible, although his family was always welcome to join him, for he loved to debate. He gave his daughters guidance but allowed them to go their own way which had resulted in the youngest being perhaps more lively than they should be. But their governess made up for any lack in Lord Arundel’s parenting style, and all the girls were well-mannered, though again, Kitty and Lydia possessed high spirits.

  Once her husband had left the room, Lady Margaret again began to speak of the Darcys and the untrustworthy nature of the family, and this time she spoke for some time, as there was no one to gainsay her. Whether any of the facts she related were in any way the truth Elizabeth could not determine, though she had heard many of these same complaints before. Elizabeth tried to ignore her mother’s constant stream of words, and speak quietly with Jane, for they could do little to silence her.

  After a time of this, her mother fell silent on the subject, as her youngest daughters drew her into other subjects. Elizabeth nodded at Lydia in thanks, which the girl returned with a pert grin. Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary were as yet the only Bennet sisters introduced to London society, in slight contravention of the established norm, which was to wait until the elder sisters married before presenting the younger. Jane’s unacknowledged courtship with Mr. Bingley would remove any impediment to Kitty and Lydia’s eventual presentation, as would the expected match Mary would make. As yet, no man had caught Elizabeth’s fancy.

  “Lizzy?”

  Turning, Elizabeth noted her youngest sibling looking at her. Thomas was ten yea
rs of age and precocious, the long-awaited heir of her father’s barony. He was also intelligent, active after the manner of boys his age, and close with Elizabeth who indulged him by playing with him in his youthful games.

  “Yes, Thomas?” asked she, noting he was frowning in confusion.

  “I do not understand. Why does Mama dislike our neighbors so?”

  “It is a mystery to me too,” replied Elizabeth, seating him nearby so she could attempt to explain in a fashion he would understand. “The Bennets have long considered the Darcy family to be untrustworthy.”

  “Why?” demanded her brother. “Did they harm us?”

  “I do not know, Brother. The dispute has persisted longer than I have been alive. Papa does not even remember how it began.”

  “Then why should it continue? If the offense is no longer known, should it not be forgotten?”

  In Elizabeth’s mind, her brother showed impressive perception. “One would think, would they not? Unfortunately, it does not always work that way in our world. Sometimes people do not get on with each other for reasons no one can understand.”

  “Well, that is silly,” insisted Thomas. “You may be certain that when I am Lord Arundel, I shall not continue such an absurd feud. I will end it and make peace with Mr. Darcy.”

  “Then I wish you success, Thomas,” said Elizabeth, holding him close to her side. “It is laudable to wish to mend our relationship with the Darcy family. Perhaps you may succeed where the rest of us are too steeped in resentment to have any hope of success.”

  Thomas gave her a brilliant smile and retreated to his toy soldier collection which had held his interest most of the evening. On another night, Elizabeth might have joined him—much to her mother’s chagrin—but tonight there were more important matters afoot. Her brother’s startling perception notwithstanding, there was enough bad blood between the Bennets and the Darcys that Elizabeth wished to ensure her sister knew what she was undertaking by accepting Mr. Bingley’s overtures.

  “Jane,” said Elizabeth, drawing her sister’s attention. “Are you sure of Mr. Bingley, and your willingness to be drawn into the Darcys’ sphere?”

  “I had not thought you would champion distrust of the Darcy family, Lizzy,” said Jane.

  “You know I do no such thing,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Bingley has been a close friend of Mr. Darcy for many years, and as Papa says, he shows no signs of wishing to give up the acquaintance. How will you manage, being near the gentleman, given the discord between us?”

  “The same way I manage any other situation, Lizzy,” replied Jane. “With patience and understanding. As Papa suggested, I do not think Mr. Bingley would allow Mr. Darcy to mistreat me.”

  “Nor do I think Mr. Darcy would do something so overt.” Elizabeth paused, thinking of what she knew of the gentleman. “Mr. Darcy has always struck me as a stern man, a man who demands the best in himself and others. I know we Bennets think the Darcys possess no redeeming qualities, but people are more complex than that—any attempt to stuff them into a box and label it is doomed to failure.”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “Because I wish to assure myself that you know what you are about with Mr. Bingley. No, I do not expect Mr. Darcy to mistreat you, but he is our family’s enemy. Furthermore, Mr. Bingley has always seemed to be under his influence, though I will own he has shown some firmness of purpose since his attentions to you began. The most important factor, however, is how you feel about Mr. Bingley. Do you love him as a woman ought for the man she is considering as a future husband?”

  “Have we not always vowed we will marry for love?” asked Jane, her tone slightly chiding. “I thought you knew me better than to suspect I would allow a man to approach me when I do not love him.”

  “I have always thought I did,” said Elizabeth. “But you are maddeningly difficult to understand at times, Jane, and I am uncertain.”

  “Then let your mind be at peace. I love Mr. Bingley as much as I should, and I would like nothing more than to be his wife. Any matter of Mr. Darcy I may consider when it becomes necessary, and not before. And I should also inform you, Lizzy, that had I any concerns about Mr. Bingley’s firmness of purpose, I would not have allowed him to proceed even as far as he has.”

  Elizabeth regarded her sister, relieved at last to know Jane’s innermost thoughts. “Then I wish you every happiness, Jane. I have always thought Mr. Bingley was an excellent man, and I know you shall be the making of him. Moreover, happiness shall be yours with your extended family, for Miss Bingley will be the most perfect sister a woman could ever have!”

  Jane shook her head and laughed along with Elizabeth, for both women had known of Miss Bingley’s limitations for many years. Neither held any illusions she would welcome Jane with open arms, despite her being the daughter of a peer.

  “In truth, I pity Miss Bingley.”

  “Aye, she is a woman to be pitied. The way she throws herself at Mr. Darcy is only made more pitiable by Mr. Darcy’s restraint and Miss Bingley’s inability to see it for anything other than the contemptuous indifference it is. Then again, as her brother’s wife, perhaps can explain it to her in such a way that she will see the truth and fix her mercenary attention on some other poor unsuspecting gentleman.”

  “Caroline is not that bad, Lizzy.”

  “Yes, she is, Sister dearest,” replied Elizabeth, rising to her feet. “As much, for your sake, as I wish it was untrue, Miss Bingley is that bad, and perhaps worse. Though I worried about Mr. Darcy, and with good reason, I believe Miss Bingley to be the greater threat. Do not trust her, for you may find a dagger in your back if you do.”

  Then Elizabeth wished her family good night and sought her bed and the good book she had waiting on her nightstand. With Jane’s words, she was now content with her sister’s choice.

  Chapter IV

  There was nothing the Honorable Miss Elizabeth Bennet liked better than to walk the paths of her father’s estate. Secondary to that, however, was the enjoyment she received in riding her mare, Midnight.

  Having been taught from a young age, the same as her sisters, Elizabeth accounted herself an expert horsewoman, and as she engaged in it more often than any of them, her skills were superior. Midnight was a young mare, only three years of age, which her father had purchased for her after the old mare she used to use, Petal, was sent out to pasture. She was a handsome animal, the deepest black, as her name would suggest, but with a crescent-shaped white patch on her forehead, which Elizabeth thought made her a pretty animal, indeed. In addition, Midnight was also a gentle creature, friendly and eager to please, yet hardy, possessing an ability to run like the wind. Elizabeth had always thought they were well-matched, not only in temperament but also in their love of the outdoors.

  One fine spring morning, Elizabeth saddled her beloved friend and rode away from Longbourn, enjoying the chirping of birds, whistling of the winds through the trees, only just waking from their long rest. The winter previous had been a harsh one in which Elizabeth’s only escape was to visit Midnight and commiserate with her over the stinging snowstorms which had swept through the county. When February waned and March arrived, however, it was as if a fire had been lit in a hearth, for warmth flooded the area and the snows began to melt. Even now there were still large drifts of hard-packed snow dotting the landscape, and the grounds within the woods were thick with it, but the melting had begun in earnest, leaving the local landowners fearful of torrential waters flooding their lands. That possibility, however, was still far distant, and Elizabeth had no thought for it other than to stay away from the swiftly rising streams.

  Unlike many mornings in which she set out on horseback, today she had a destination in mind—the village of Lambton something more than three miles distant. While her father’s estate was a large one, with many paths Elizabeth had come to know as well as she knew the halls of her home, the Bennet sisters often found themselves drawn to Lambton, in particular the younger, eager as they were for the societ
y of friends. The road she followed was an undulating track leading through the rolling hills of Derbyshire. Midnight could cover the distance in a matter of minutes, if Elizabeth felt she was up to it, though on this morning, Elizabeth contented herself with allowing her mare a slow canter, while she reveled in the world waking from its long winter sleep.

  Lambton was a jewel among market towns, nestled in the hills, some distance to the north and east, not far from the shared border between Pemberley and Longbourn. The town had no major thoroughfare, as the roads wound up and down the hills in which it sat, giving it the charm of a Swiss valley town. The thought provoked Elizabeth to laugh, for she had never been to Switzerland—she had only read about it in her father’s copious collection of books.

  As soon as Midnight set foot on the cobbled streets, a gaggle of girls she loved gathered around her. They called their greetings and romped about Midnight’s feet, and soon Elizabeth felt it necessary to dismount, lest one of them stray too close.

  “Miss Elizabeth!” cried one of them in greeting, echoed by her friends.

  “Shall we have sweets today?” called another.

  “Jenny!” disproved one of the older girls.

  Elizabeth laughed, however, and gathered little Jenny to her. “Have you behaved yourself of late? Have you been attending your mother?”

  “Yes, Miss,” replied the little girl. “My mother claims I am her favorite daughter.”

  “That is only because you are her only daughter!” exclaimed the eldest girl, Jillian.

  The other girls broke into laughter, though Jenny pouted. Elizabeth could not refrain from laughing herself, though she gathered Jenny to her in a gentle embrace. “Then you shall have a sugar stick since you have been so well-behaved.”

  The girls laughed and cheered at their good fortune, leading Elizabeth down the street to the confectioners. Though Elizabeth had been cautioned by the mothers not to treat their daughters too often—and Elizabeth was careful of the need for restraint—it had been the previous autumn since she had last indulged them. The morning was bright and cheery enough, and their manners so fine, that Elizabeth felt an indulgence was permitted.