Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

  Once the furor regarding Lydia and her behavior at the Forster residence died down, the Bennets, in the company of their friends, turned to their amusements, and soon even Lydia was enjoying herself, though it took several days for her dark looks at her elder sisters to disappear. Fitzwilliam was no less than exasperated with Miss Lydia, but he managed to conceal it by the simple expedient of not speaking to the girl. As she had no wish to speak to him, it appeared to be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  Fitzwilliam had offered once again attempted to induce Darcy to call in the debts that Wickham owed, but Darcy refused.

  “It is best to simply leave well enough alone, Fitzwilliam.”

  Though Fitzwilliam would have insisted, Darcy only shook his head. “Very well,” replied Fitzwilliam. “If I know Wickham, he will likely coil enough rope with which to hang himself by the end of the summer. I anticipate it keenly.”

  Darcy only shook his head and allowed the subject to drop.

  Those first days in Brighton were largely spent exploring the city. The residences of the Fitzwilliams and the Bennets were situated in a good location, not so far from the fabled beaches of Brighton that they could not walk there with ease, and close enough to a shopping district, that the ladies could often be found there, browsing the wares. That they did not often buy much did not matter to them, though Miss Lydia wasted much of her allowance on the first few days purchasing a bonnet and some ribbon. Her complaints and entreaties to her sisters to lend her some of their money were not heard, making the already fractious girl even more difficult to endure.

  Of particular interest to Darcy—and to Miss Elizabeth and her father—were the circulating libraries for which Brighton was well-known, and it was not above a day or two before the three visited the nearest one. They were teased for their devotion to the written word, but there was little that could cause them to be anything other than pleased with what they found.

  “It is curious,” Fitzwilliam said late in the day after they returned. “I would not have thought a circulating library to be a desirable location for courting the woman you wish to impress.”

  “It is if the woman in question also finds pleasure there,” replied Darcy.

  Fitzwilliam laughed and shook his head; he could readily concede that Miss Bennet had seemed as content with her time at the library as Darcy. For his part, Fitzwilliam had come in part to laugh at his cousin, but also because his other cousin—Anne—had also shown a preference for books that Fitzwilliam had not known she possessed.

  “Of course I read,” replied Anne when Fitzwilliam made his observation. “I am perhaps not so devoted to it as Elizabeth, nor a bibliophile such as Mr. Bennet, but I enjoy it all the same. What else do you think I did those long days at Rosings with my mother? I was sent to my rooms at all times of the day, and as no one could possibly sleep for as long as my mother deemed necessary, I had to have something else to occupy my time.”

  Fitzwilliam laughed and shook his head. “I suppose you must be correct. But Milton? I would have thought you more interested in novels, or even some Shakespeare on occasion.”

  “In fact, I am quite well read and have many disparate tastes in books,” replied Anne, more than a little primly. “As you must recall, I am not robust and brawny, like a certain cousin I could name, and thus must confine my pursuits to the more sedentary.”

  “I am well aware that you are not as fragile as Lady Catherine would have had everyone believe.”

  “No, but under her watchful eye, I was not allowed anything more.”

  Another laugh escaped Fitzwilliam’s lips. “I am quite certain your mother would expire if she knew what we had planned for the coming days. Surely she would deem it fatal for your health to actually partake in something so risky as sea bathing.”

  Anne laughed along with him. “I am quite certain you are correct. But I find that I can tolerate the idea of mother’s displeasure quite easily, if she is at Rosings and I am not within range of her voice.”

  They laughed again, and Fitzwilliam found that he like the sound of Anne’s laughter. She was much more mischievous and intelligent than he had ever thought, and though she was still reticent, she was open to those she knew and trusted. Misses Bennet and Elizabeth were now included in that group, and Fitzwilliam, Darcy, and Georgiana as well. Soon, Fitzwilliam thought the list might also include Bingley—though he had not much time to spare from his contemplation of Miss Bennet’s perfection—and perhaps even Miss Mary.

  It would be his purpose, he decided, to ensure Anne laughed as often as possible. And he was certain the others would assist him in this endeavor.

  There was another in the party who was enjoying himself immensely, though his youngest daughter had proved to be a trial. While Lydia was not precisely improved in her behavior, by the end of the week she had shown enough calmness to allow her visits to the Forsters to begin again. Lizzy reported that Wickham had not been present the first time they had returned, and since the girl only whispered and giggled with her hostess and elder sister, Bennet was content enough to allow the matter to rest for the moment.

  Traveling had always been the bane of Bennet’s existence, an evil to be avoided at all costs. And though normally averse to most company, Bennet found himself much more willing to join the rest of his family on their frequent excursions to explore the wonders Brighton had to offer. The outing to the circulating library in the company of his second eldest and Mr. Darcy and his relations had been especially amusing.

  Jane and Bingley’s attraction had never been hidden, even though Bennet knew that the man’s sisters and likely his friend had not recognized it for what it was—perhaps they had been willfully blind. Bennet knew his daughter, and since Bingley was nothing less than an open book, Bennet had known of their mutual attraction for some time. Thankfully, Bingley’s spine seemed to have stiffened, otherwise Bennet would not have allowed the connection to continue, despite the man’s pretty words. But he had not expected to see another romance—and perhaps even two!—play out before his very eyes.

  “What is your preference in literature, Miss Bennet?” Bennett overheard Mr. Darcy asking his daughter as he was perusing some of his own preferred subjects.

  “Histories and Shakespeare, particularly the comedies,” replied Elizabeth. “I will also own to a liking for poetry, though there is some I do not care for.”

  “Do not allow Elizabeth to corrupt you, Mr. Darcy,” interjected Bennet.

  The two younger people started and darted glances in his direction and Bennet was amused to note that Mr. Darcy quickly put a little distance between Elizabeth and himself.

  Elizabeth, who soon divined his meaning, scowled at Bennet, but Mr. Darcy only looked at him, perplexity written on his brow.

  “Oh, Papa! Do not bring up that old argument again!”

  Bennet only grinned as Mr. Darcy said: “I am sorry, sir, but I do not understand.”

  “Only that Elizabeth will attempt to convince you that reading Marlowe has any value.”

  Mr. Darcy relaxed a little. “You do not agree?”

  Bennet snorted. “The man was nothing more than a pompous blowhard, and his works are dry and uninteresting.”

  “He is rightly regarded as a master of his craft, Papa,” stated Elizabeth, making a valiant attempt at affront.

  “You see, Mr. Darcy? I have tried to teach her to appreciate true literature, but she persists in declaring that reading Marlowe is anything other than a trial.”

  “What do you think, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth. Bennet almost laughed; Elizabeth’s tone seemed to suggest that, yes, he did agree with her and, yes, he had best state it openly, if he wished a future courtship with her.

  It was clear Mr. Darcy did not know quite what to say. Bennet caught the man’s eye and winked at him, after which he seemed to relax a little.

  “Personally, I have never cared for Marlowe, though I can well understand why he is considered to be a master.”

  Bennet turned a
nd looked at Elizabeth, triumph in his gaze, to which Elizabeth just laughed. “Mr. Darcy did not unequivocally agree with you, Papa, so you may leave off your smugness!”

  The three of them shared a laugh, and Bennet allowed himself to fade into the background while his daughter and the wealthy man from Derbyshire continued to interact. The more Bennet watched them, the more amused he became. Mr. Darcy, far from being the proud and disagreeable man Elizabeth had branded him as soon after his arrival, seemed nothing more than just awkward with a woman he admired. And it was clear that Mr. Darcy admired Elizabeth. Very clear.

  Watching Mr. Darcy play the love-struck suitor was about the most entertaining thing Bennet had ever seen. The man was careful, which Bennet was certain was a reflection of his character, and he seemed to think about everything he said carefully before the words ever passed his lips. But there were times his desire got the best of him, though he was scrupulously proper; his hand at times seemed to lift of its own accord, rising as if to occupy the small of Elizabeth’s back, though he never actually touched her; he would lean in close to listen to her with the greatest of attention; he watched her wherever she went, his countenance seemingly inscrutable until one recognized that his heart resided in his eyes; and at times he seemed to need to reassure himself of her presence and her willingness to be in his company.

  Bennet was certain that had Miss Bingley seen such attentions from the man, she would have ordered her wedding clothes, for she had made it clear by her own actions that she coveted the position of Mr. Darcy’s wife. Bennet had no doubt she would be green with envy should she have the opportunity to witness Mr. Darcy’s attentions to Elizabeth. Furthermore, Bennet had heard something of the woman’s behavior the morning they had departed London, and he wondered if Miss Bingley did not already have some suspicion of Mr. Darcy’s interest to Elizabeth. It would certainly explain why she had been barely tolerant of Elizabeth the previous autumn.

  The most amusing part of the entire spectacle was that Bennet seemed to be the only one who knew anything of the man’s infatuation for Lizzy—or at least he was the only one of the Bennet party. The colonel often watched them with satisfaction, and Miss de Bourgh treated Elizabeth as a beloved cousin and almost near-sister, and Miss Darcy looked on her as if she wished they were sisters already. Only Bingley appeared to have no idea of the matter, which was understandable, considering how assiduously he was courting Jane.

  For her part, Jane could be excused for the same reason. Kitty and Lydia, of course, were too caught up in their own activities to notice anything, and Lydia was known to say—in a rather loud and embarrassing voice—how intolerable she found Mr. Darcy. The man did a credible job of simply ignoring her. Of Mary, Bennet was uncertain—he thought his middle daughter, for all her penchant for the pianoforte and reading her moral treatises, was more observant than most gave her credit. He would not be surprised if she had noticed the same thing he had.

  But Mrs. Bennet was the most surprising, given her vaunted ability to spot a suitor for her daughters from one hundred paces. It seemed that his wife had resigned herself to Mr. Darcy’s presence, for she rarely disparaged the man any longer, knowing as she did how Mr. Bingley valued his friend’s presence. But she often watched Mr. Darcy through pinched eyes and suppressed annoyance, and Bennet thought she wished him away. How she would change her tune should she become aware of the reason for his constant presence!

  Bennet, though the thought of losing his favorite daughter to another man brought pain, was happy for Lizzy. She was the most intelligent and deserving of his daughters, though Jane was of the same level of character as Elizabeth. In Darcy, Elizabeth would have a husband who would adore her, but who was stubborn enough to refuse to give in to her. Elizabeth would have a husband she respected and loved, if she could ever bend her stiff neck enough to confess to it. Bennet could not have wished for anything more for his daughter.

  The combined Longbourn and Netherfield parties had been in Brighton for almost a week when the first opportunity arrived for them to attend the local assembly hall. Though Darcy himself was the one of the company who was least likely to enjoy attending such a function, it had been because of his residence in the town, and the fact that Fitzwilliam residence was occupied, that allowed them to procure invitations for both themselves and the Bennets.

  “Come Darcy,” said Bingley when they were discussing the invitation and whether they would attend, “it is an assembly, not a funeral. I am certain you must know someone with whom it would not be a punishment to stand up for a set or two.”

  Darcy understood that Bingley referred to his words at the assembly the previous year, and could only shake his head, amused at Bingley’s jovial sally. “I believe I can be happy dancing with Georgiana and Anne, and I am particularly acquainted with the Bennets, so I do not fear an inability to find an agreeable partner.”

  “I believe there are different levels of that which may be termed ‘agreeable,’” said Fitzwilliam, laughter in his voice. “Georgiana and Anne are both well and good, of course, but of the Bennets, I believe the eldest sisters are the most agreeable, though Miss Mary and Miss Kitty might be endurable. Miss Lydia, however, is nigh insupportable.”

  “That might be a little uncharitable, Fitzwilliam,” said Bingley. “Though Miss Lydia is invariably silly, still she is agreeable and enthusiastic, and you must own that she is comely enough to look upon.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks!” cried Anne. “I care not for Miss Lydia, and neither do any of you, other than the fact that she is Jane and Elizabeth’s sister. What I wish to know is whether Darcy has secured Elizabeth’s first sets of the evening.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Darcy, being deliberately vague. “The subject has not exactly come up, except in general terms.”

  “Brother!” said Georgiana, a warning tone infused in her voice. “You do realize that I am counting on you to gift me with a sister.”

  They all laughed at Darcy’s expense, but he only feigned unconcern. When he did not immediately speak, Georgiana let out a frustrated sigh. “You have secured her first sets, have you not, Brother?”

  Though Darcy would not have responded, preferring to continue to vex those who had so often teased him in the past, he could only grin and say: “Of course I have. And the supper set.”

  Georgiana squealed and jumped into his arms while the others called out their sincere congratulations. Darcy accepted them all, but he cautioned: “It is not a marriage proposal. In fact, I am not certain that Miss Elizabeth even likes me at present.”

  “How could she not?” asked Georgiana. “I would think her a simpleton if she did not recognize your worth, and I assuredly do not think that.” When Darcy suggested that she still might not have forgiven him, Georgiana was quick to add: “I cannot think she holds it against you. She has been much warmer to you, especially since our arrival in Brighton.”

  Gratified to have his own observation confirmed by another—though he acknowledged that her opinion could not be considered impartial—he returned his sister’s embrace. Soon they had completed their preparations and were making their way to the assembly hall, which was not at all distant from the house. The night was calm and warm, and as the Bennet townhouse was in the same general direction, they walked first there, and then joined that company in walking to the assembly halls. Even Georgiana had been permitted to attend, though she was barred from dancing with anyone other than the members of their party.

  “Shall I escort you, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Darcy when the Bennets had joined them on the street.

  “Of course, Mr. Darcy,” replied she, as she rested her small hand lightly on his arm. The feeling of her soft touch, the sensation of her walking at his side was indescribable, and they walked for some moments in complete silence, Darcy overwhelmed and unable to speak, while Miss Elizabeth appeared to be contemplating some weighty subject.

  “Come now,” said a voice from behind them, after they had walked for some moments without speaking,
“I would have expected Mr. Darcy to keep to his silence, as he is a man much after my own heart. But Lizzy has rarely been able to refrain from speaking.”

  As one, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth turned to note her father walking behind them, watching them with evident amusement. He quickened his pace and fell into step beside Miss Elizabeth, continuing to watch them.

  “It is a beautiful night, Papa,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I believe Mr. Darcy and I have both been enjoying it. Is there a need for banal conversation between those who are well acquainted?”

  The gleam in Mr. Bennet’s eyes as he regarded his second daughter made Darcy feel more than a little uncomfortable. Darcy had always been a private man, even before his father’s death and his inheritance of Pemberley had rendered him wary of those who would take advantage of him. He had attempted to be more open with Miss Elizabeth, hoping to show her his true self, but he had thought he was being discrete enough that the Bennets would not notice his actions. Certainly Mrs. Bennet appeared to remain ignorant.

  But Darcy had noticed an almost jovial aspect to Mr. Bennet’s behavior of late, though it was sometimes mixed with a hint of melancholy. He had made several comments which suggested that he was aware of Darcy’s intentions with respect to his daughter. But even then, his behavior was not what Darcy would have expected; he seemed content to watch them and amuse himself at their expense, though Darcy had noticed that he was at times watchful, much more so than he had been in Hertfordshire.

  “No, Lizzy, you are correct,” said Mr. Bennet. “Those who are particularly acquainted need no such artificial means of feeling comfortable together.”

  The irony in his tone seemed to reach Miss Elizabeth and she flushed a little, but her father only chuckled. Darcy wondered if he should have a word with Mr. Bennet, inform him of his intentions with respect to his daughter. A moment’s thought on the matter led Darcy to decide to leave it for now—soon, he would be honor bound to do so, but at present, there was nothing formal between them, so it may appear presumptuous.