More to Love

by Robin Helm

  To his utter amazement, he recognized Miss Jane Bennet’s slender figure, but he stared a moment more before he decided the slightly shorter woman was her sister Elizabeth.

  Miss Elizabeth’s red bonnet was in her hand, and her long brown curls were loose, cascading down her back, catching the rays of the early morning sun.

  The gentleman could not look away. She was wholly free and unspoiled, while he was rigid, confined by the rules of society. Her playful spirit, so different from his, fascinated him.

  Remembering what he had said of Elizabeth the evening before, he shook his head. He knew himself to be an utter fool, as well as a liar. In fact, many of his friends preferred a lady’s figure to be more rounded, rather than thin and angular. Several gentlemen in his set married ladies who had been slim when young, only to gain a bit as they aged. None of the men complained – quite the contrary. As he beheld her, completely unguarded, he fully agreed with them.

  She was perfection.

  Darcy had watched her as she danced with Bingley. She moved fluidly, laughing and chatting amiably with those around her. She was easy in company, while he stood alone.

  Had he truly thought there was “too much” of her to tempt him?

  Too much of what, pray tell?

  Grace? Beauty? Intelligence? Flawless skin and lively, expressive eyes? Good humour?

  His musings provided him with a sudden, blinding insight into his own character. Perhaps he was the one who had “too much.” Much too high an opinion of himself.

  Darcy began to be uncomfortable with the direction of his mental wanderings.

  He suddenly realized she had smiled at everyone else there – guests, musicians, servants, even a stray tabby cat – but not at him. He had been unable to look away as she danced with his friend and other partners for the remainder of the evening, but her expression turned to stone each time her eyes met his.

  As they had never been introduced, there was only one plausible reason for her to glare at him.

  Darcy groaned aloud.

  She must have overheard what he said to Bingley.

  While Elizabeth Bennet was certainly unsuitable for any liaison with the Darcy family, she did not deserve his disapprobation. He must have hurt her, and for that, he was truly sorry.

  As she disappeared into the trees, he wondered, What sort of man would wound the spirit of a woodland fairy?

  Darcy entered the breakfast room and sat to the right of his host.

  Bingley’s sisters, Caroline and Louisa, along with Mr. Hurst, Louisa’s husband, arrived soon after.

  A footman held Caroline’s chair as she sat beside Darcy. Louisa and Mr. Hurst sat across from them.

  Once they had served themselves, Caroline looked at her sister with a sneer.

  “Did you notice the Bennet clan last evening?”

  Louisa pursed her lips and sniffed. “Who could help but notice them? They were everywhere one looked. There was simply no getting away from them.”

  Caroline nodded, lifting a disdainful brow. “The mother is a shrew, the two youngest sisters are man-mad, and Elizabeth Bennet, who I have heard referred to as a famous local beauty, inhaled everything in sight. I will grant you that Jane Bennet is pretty and somewhat cultured.”

  She shifted her attention to Darcy.” What say you, Mr. Darcy? Do you not agree?”

  “Miss Bennet is quite lovely, but she smiles too much,” he replied quietly, keeping his dark gaze on his plate.

  “I will not have it!” exclaimed Bingley. “I will brook no criticism of Miss Bennet. She is the loveliest woman I ever beheld.”

  Caroline shook her head and waved a bony hand. “I agree that she is beautiful, but her family! Her father was too indolent to make an appearance last night, and the remainder of the Bennet family provided entertainment for the entire room.”

  She leaned forward and continued in her nasal tone. “I heard that Jane Bennet has an uncle in trade – in Cheapside, no less.”

  “Our father was in trade,” interjected Bingley. “Miss Bennet is no less pleasant in my sight for having an uncle in Cheapside. I would still admire her had she uncles in trade enough to fill all London.”

  “Your father worked his whole life so you could be a gentleman,” said Darcy firmly.

  Bingley’s voice was soft. “And is she not a gentleman’s daughter? Mr. Bennet is a country gentleman with a small estate, but it is his and has been in his family for generations. I did not inherit any land; I must purchase it. How am I better than Mr. Bennet?”

  Caroline nearly spewed her tea all over the table. She swallowed with difficulty and looked down her aristocratic nose at her brother. “You are far wealthier than the Bennets, and you are received in London society. Can you say the same for the Bennets?”

  Darcy shifted uneasily in his chair.

  Bingley tilted his head, glancing from Darcy to his sister. “I am received only because Darcy is my friend. If he befriended Mr. Bennet, that gentleman would be welcomed, as well. I do not pretend to think I was accepted by society on my own merits, for I know I am nouveau riche. I have no shame concerning what I am.”

  Caroline was not to be gainsaid. “Mr. Darcy, do you think Miss Bennett is a suitable match for my brother?”

  “I believe she is lovely, kind, and all that is befitting a country gentleman’s daughter,” he replied.

  “Yes, we all know that. There is no dispute on those facts,” she said. “My question is, do you think Charles would do well to secure her hand?”

  Darcy sighed, placed his fork on his plate, and stood. “If your brother marries her, he may materially damage your chances of making an advantageous marriage. It may not be right, but that is the way of the world.”

  He saw Caroline’s smug expression before he left the room, and Elizabeth’s face appeared in his mind, her long curls flowing freely about her shoulders.

  The gentleman smiled as he walked away, thinking Caroline was no better a match for him than was Elizabeth Bennet, and in many ways that he now realized were quite important to him, she was far worse.

  After an unremarkable day, aside from Mr. Darcy’s rather enjoyable morning, the Netherfield party presented themselves at the home of Sir William Lucas.

  Darcy stood apart from the crowd, observing the various occupants of the room with a stoic mien which belied his interest.

  Again, Miss Elizabeth Bennet smiled and was merry with her friends, though never loudly enough to draw attention to herself.

  No matter, as she had his full scrutiny without attempting to secure it.

  However, Miss Charlotte Lucas, Miss Elizabeth’s particular friend, seemed determined to put her forward.

  “My dear Elizabeth, we must have a song. Will you not play and sing for us?” she asked.

  Darcy listened with great attentiveness, hoping she would favour the request.

  Elizabeth demurred. “You would have me perform in front of those who are in the habit of hearing the very best of musicians. I shall be censured, for I will certainly fall far short of the excellence they require.”

  Charlotte persisted, and eventually Elizabeth was swayed.

  She glanced at Darcy, seeming to address him directly. “Very well. If you insist, I suppose it must be so, though I fear I shall be a grave disappointment to the company.”

  She took her place at the instrument and began to perform a pleasant song, greatly appealing to her audience.

  Darcy’s attention was wholly fixed on her when he sensed movement behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see who approached him.

  Caroline Bingley’s mouth was much too close to his ear, and he shifted to his other foot, further away from her.

  “I can guess the subject of your reverie,” she said.

  Her attempt at intimacy caused him further discomfort.

  “I should imagine not,” he answered in a clipped voice.

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You must be considering how tiring it would be to spend many evening
s in such a manner. The society is so far from genteel as to be annoying. I confess I am in total agreement with you. The cacophony that passes for music, the self-importance of the company, the insipidity! I should like to hear your opinion.”

  He leaned further away. “Your conjecture is completely wrong. My thoughts are more agreeably occupied in meditating upon the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

  Caroline stepped up beside him, placing her hand on his arm, looking up into his eyes. “You must tell me who has inspired such reflections.”

  Darcy mustered every ounce of civility he possessed to stop himself from shaking her hand from his arm.

  His answer was terse. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet! How long have you favoured large women? Upon my word, I thought the piano bench would crumble beneath her.”

  His manners stretched to the breaking point, Darcy turned to face her, dislodging her fingers with his movement. “And yet, I observe her lovely face and intelligent eyes.”

  Caroline raised her eyebrows. “I see she is a favourite with you. Pray, when am I to wish you joy?”

  “You show little originality with that question. ’Tis exactly the response I expected. I knew you would be wishing me joy.” He looked back at Elizabeth, surprised to see that she and Miss Lucas were observing the exchange.

  “I consider the matter absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, and, of course, she will be in constant attendance at Pemberley with you.” Caroline laughed.

  Darcy assumed his mask of indifference, but Caroline was undeterred. Her wit flowed long, and every word she spoke made him favour Elizabeth more and her less.

  Outside show is a poor substitute for inner worth.

  Aesop

  Elizabeth awakened to the sounds of Jane dressing herself. She groaned as she forced herself to leave their warm bed and hurried to exchange her nightgown for a dress.

  “Ah. I feared you would not wish to join me this morning,” Jane said, smiling at her as she braided her long, blonde hair. “’Tis quite chilly, but we shall be warm soon enough if we walk rapidly.”

  Elizabeth silently pulled her dress over her head, and Jane stepped behind her to button it.

  “It is unlike you to be so quiet, Lizzy.” Jane began to brush her sister’s hair. “Are you tired from staying up so late last night? Perhaps you should remain home today.”

  “I am a bit fatigued, but I will feel better after our walk.”

  “We walked twice yesterday, my dear. Are you not a little uncomfortable? You seem unusually quiet, and I heard the noise you made when you left the bed.”

  Elizabeth winced as she pulled on her pelisse and stuffed her hair under her bonnet. “I am a bit sore. I expected that I would be, so ’tis of little matter. Get your cloak. Hurry for I wish to see the sunrise again.”

  Jane bit her lip as she complied, and soon they were tiptoeing down the stairs.

  Though she was winded by the time they reached the top of Oakham Mount, Elizabeth stood tall, hands on her hips as she stood facing the sun, willing herself not to pant.

  “Why do you not sit for a moment, Lizzy?” asked Jane.

  “You do not sit,” answered Elizabeth, not looking at her sister.

  “You shall not sit because I do not?” Jane placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You must tell me what you mean.”

  The silence stretched for several seconds before she answered. “I shall do what you do.”

  Jane angled her head. “You ate almost nothing all day yesterday.”

  “I shall eat what you eat and no more.”

  She gently put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and turned Elizabeth to face her. “And why is that?”

  Elizabeth jerked her bonnet from her head and threw it to the ground, following its progress with her eyes. “I am too heavy. Your figure is more pleasing. I wish to look like you.”

  “What?” Her sister’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Whatever put such a foolish notion into your head?”

  “Not ‘whatever.’ Whoever.”

  Jane drew her brows together. “Has someone insulted you? I cannot imagine it. We are all friends here. Everyone loves you, Lizzy.”

  “Obviously not. Your Mr. Bingley pressed Mr. Darcy to dance with me at the Assembly.”

  “He is not ‘my Mr. Bingley.’”

  Elizabeth raised her head to smile at her sister. “I think he is; or he very soon will be.”

  Jane shook her head. “So, Mr. Bingley urged Mr. Darcy to dance with you. I suppose he refused. Since he danced with no one except Mr. Bingley’s sister, I am not surprised the gentleman declined. Perhaps he feels awkward in company.”

  Elizabeth’s bitter laugh cut through the chilly air. “He did not simply cry off, Jane. Mr. Darcy said there was too much of me to tempt him. He mentioned how much I ate.”

  Jane’s eyes were knowing. “And Mr. Bingley danced with you himself.”

  “He did. He took pity on me after Mr. Darcy insulted me.”

  “This is not like you. You are attaching far too much importance to one man’s opinion, Lizzy. He cared little for any of us. Why should you be so dismayed?”

  Tears trickled down Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she wiped them away angrily. “’Twas not only Mr. Darcy’s judgment. I overheard Caroline Bingley talking to Mr. Darcy last evening at Lucas Lodge. She called me a ‘large’ woman and voiced her fear that the piano bench would not hold my weight.”

  “Surely you misunderstood her. It was quite crowded and noisy.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Charlotte heard her, as well. She then proceeded to denigrate our mother and wish Mr. Darcy joy. It was humiliating beyond belief.”

  “That makes no sense at all. Why would she wish him well?” asked Jane, frowning.

  “For some odd reason, he defended me. Miss Bingley would not have that. Her next ploy was to intimate that Mr. Darcy and I would marry. ’Twas all a great joke with her.”

  “He defended you? How strange. What did he say?”

  “He said I have a lovely face and fine eyes,” she answered, blushing.

  Jane drew her sister into an embrace, her voice gentle as she said, “He likely had not observed you very much when he spoke at the Assembly. When he saw you more closely at the Lucases, he changed his earlier judgment. That must have made you feel better.”

  “He said that simply to disagree with her,” replied Elizabeth, pulling back, shaking her head. “It seems that Miss Bingley is set on having the very wealthy, infuriatingly handsome, dark-haired Mr. Darcy for her husband, and he is equally determined that she shall not be his wife.”

  “It is all most unsettling; however, I shall not have you starving yourself to spite people so wholly unconnected with us.”

  “Jane, you are my dearest friend. I am very far from starvation, and I ask that you help me rather than discourage me. What Mr. Darcy said is true, and I have known it for quite a while now. There is too much of me for my gowns to fit properly, and I will not ask for new ones. Papa is already concerned enough about the estate not doing well. Come. Let us return to the house. ’Tis nearly time to break our fast. You would not have me miss a meal, would you?”

  Elizabeth picked up her bonnet and dusted it off. She slung it over her arm by the ribbons and held out her hand.

  Jane laughed and took her sister’s hand in hers. Together they ran down the hill, giggling like children.

  As they reached the bottom, Elizabeth turned to look one last time at the sun peeking over Oakham Mount. She thought she saw a tall man on horseback, but she squinted, for the sun was in her eyes. When she shaded her brow with her hands for a better view, he was gone.

  Mid-November, 1811

  “Are you putting more food on your plate in an attempt to have me eat more, Jane?” Elizabeth whispered. “You cannot trick me. I will still eat only what you eat. I shall not be hoodwinked.”

  “Of
what are you whispering, Lizzy? You know I do not allow such rudeness at my table.” Mrs. Bennet proclaimed, delicately lifting her cup to her mouth and peering over its rim at her daughter in disapproval. “You must share your conversation with all of us.”

  “’Tis nothing, Mama,” she answered, returning her attention to her breakfast.

  Mr. Bennet rattled his newspaper, looking over it at Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Bailey bustled in, waving a letter. “This note just come for Miss Bennet.”

  Jane reached for it, but her mother spoke quickly. “Give it to me.”

  With an apologetic look at Jane, the servant did as she was told. She turned to leave the room, glancing at Elizabeth’s plate. The woman frowned, her kindly face uncharacteristically marred by the expression as she hurried from the room.

  Mrs. Bennet broke the seal and unfolded the letter, reading rapidly. “Ah, Jane! You have been invited to dine with Mr. Bingley’s sisters.”

  “Today? But it looks like rain,” answered Jane, looking out the window.

  Mr. Bennet folded his paper and placed it beside his plate. “I shall send for the carriage, my dear. I will not chance your falling ill.”

  “The carriage requires two horses, Mr. Bennet, and one of them is needed on the farm. Jane can go on horseback.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice was firm.

  Jane shook her head. “I shall decline the invitation, instead.”

  Her mother narrowed her eyes. “You shall not. Daisy is well-able to take you to Netherfield. If you leave now, you will arrive before the rain begins. Should it continue to rain, you can stay the night.”

  Jane’s distress was evident.

  “Mama,” implored Elizabeth, “Please, you must allow me to go with Jane.”

  “There is no need for that. You were not included in the invitation, and it would be rude for you to arrive with your sister. Besides, you cannot both ride Daisy. She cannot bear the weight of both of you together.”

  Elizabeth feared she could not hold back her tears, so she quietly stood and left the table.