Coincidence

by Jann Rowland

  After a few more moments, she went away to stand with her husband, and if his amused and indulgent expression and frequent sly glances at Elizabeth were any indication, he knew exactly on what topic her mother had spoken. There was nothing she could do concerning the matter, so Elizabeth determined to simply ignore it.

  Her mother having departed, Elizabeth looked back to the dance floor, and she noted that there were still several minutes left in Mr. Darcy’s dance with Mary. They both appeared to have become easier in each other’s company.

  The night was an enjoyable one. But into every life a little rain must fall, and in this instance, that rain was ably provided by one Caroline Bingley. The woman had not given up her campaign to capture Mr. Darcy for her own, and she had often appeared when least wanted, ready to insert herself into Mr. Darcy’s notice. Elizabeth might have found her actions amusing if they were not so very pathetic.

  In particular, Miss Bingley seemed determined to disrupt all interactions between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, and she would often make herself ridiculous in doing so. Privately, Mr. Darcy had revealed that he had decided he would not do so much as ask the woman to dance, for not only did she take any hint of notice as a confirmation that he would offer for her, but he also would not put it past her to use the public forum of a dance to engineer some sort of a compromise.

  On the evening in question, the woman found Mr. Darcy as soon as she was able, and she stood near him the entire evening, refusing to be separated from him for even a moment. The only time Mr. Darcy was able to escape her was when he was dancing, which he did more than was his custom that evening. And every time he stood up with someone other than Miss Bingley, her scowl became a little deeper, though she endeavored not to show it when there was the least chance of Mr. Darcy observing her. And nothing her sister or brother could say had any effect on the woman.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy!” cried she, as Mr. Darcy escorted Mary back from the dance floor. “How wonderfully you dance! I declare there is no one in all of England who possesses your skill and grace.”

  By this time, though it was still early in the evening, Mr. Darcy, who had already heard more than he wished, was struggling to keep his countenance. “I have merely had a good dance instructor, Miss Bingley,” said he. “My abilities are nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “So accomplished, and so humble too. There is something estimable about a gentleman who deflects deserved praise.

  “But I cannot but wonder at your choice of partners.” The woman sneered at Mary, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “If you were to take a more accomplished woman to the floor, I am certain your skills would be even that much more evident.”

  Miss Bingley’s meaning was not lost on anyone who could hear her, and Mary flushed a little. Elizabeth grasped her hand, squeezing it, and she directed an expressive look at Miss Bingley, which her sister could not help but catch. Mary straightened, and she returned Miss Bingley’s disdain with cool disinterest. If Miss Bingley’s intent had been to provoke Mary to some outburst, as little likely as that seemed, it was an abject failure, though the indifference in Mary’s gaze clearly annoyed the woman.

  “On the contrary, Miss Bingley,” replied Mr. Darcy, more than a hint of censure evident in his tone, “Miss Mary truly should dance more, as she is quite accomplished.”

  His words were said with a smile toward Mary, and though Mary flushed, she also regarded Mr. Darcy with gratitude. Elizabeth’s appreciation was no less expressed in her own eyes, and the tender look Mr. Darcy directed at her confirmed that he had seen it also.

  And so the night continued. Miss Bingley was at Mr. Darcy’s side whenever the opportunity presented itself, and she continued to shower him with similar compliments. The woman was positively indefatigable, and Elizabeth began to wonder at her inability to see that which was right before her eyes. Or perhaps it was more likely the woman simply did not wish to concede defeat. But as the night progressed, her smiles became more brittle, and her comments concerning others more cutting. Elizabeth thought it incumbent upon Mr. Hurst to remove his sister-in-law before she said something to expose herself to ridicule.

  Later in the evening, after Mr. Darcy had danced with Elizabeth for a second time, her claws were well and truly extended, though she discovered, to her detriment, that the only one who was made to look foolish because of her words was she herself.

  “I am all agog, Mr. Darcy,” said she when they returned from the dance floor. “I have it on good authority that you never dance more than once with a woman, and yet tonight you have danced twice with Miss Eliza. You should take care, sir, for I do not doubt there are those who would take any opportunity to use such actions to crow over a connection which you surely do not mean to claim.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Bingley,” said Mr. Darcy, “there is nothing anyone could say to give rise to any rumors which would be less than factual.”

  Elizabeth, so much more in tune with and understanding Mr. Darcy’s moods as she was, knew the man was close to losing his temper. Miss Bingley, however, noticed nothing, and she continued blithely on, heedless of the potential consequences.

  “I am happy to hear it, sir. I, for one, believe that one cannot be too careful when it comes to the . . . undesirable elements of society.

  “Miss Eliza, I have been meaning to ask you something. What has happened to your suitor? I remember very well how we all thought you likely to be engaged before Christmas last year. Have you managed to misplace the man?”

  “I am certain I do not know of what you speak, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, though knowing full well to whom the woman referred.

  “Why, Mr. Collins—the man on whom, I understood, your father’s estate is entailed. Of course, I do not know that he was precisely a desirable suitor, but some opportunities are best grasped with both hands, lest they slip away, never to present themselves again.”

  Wishing she could indulge in an amused chuckle, Elizabeth responded: “It seems you misread the situation, Miss Bingley. Mr. Collins, you see, married my good friend, Charlotte Lucas. In fact, I visited them in Kent in the spring and confirmed for myself that they are both happy with their situation. If you had asked Mr. Darcy, surely he would have told you that we met frequently there, and that I was, in no way, married or engaged to Mr. Collins.”

  The knowledge that she had often been in Mr. Darcy’s company was not a welcome one—and Elizabeth was certain no one had ever bothered to make the woman aware of it during the time since their arrival in Brighton—but Miss Bingley pressed on.

  “Indeed? I would have thought that Mr. Darcy would take more care in who he introduces to the acquaintance of his relations. How fortunate for you that you received the notice of Mr. Darcy’s aunt. She inhabits the highest level of society, you understand.”

  “Actually, Miss Bingley, though my aunt is the daughter of an earl, she has not had a presence in society for many years.”

  But Miss Bingley ignored Mr. Darcy in favor of continuing her assault on Elizabeth. “It is, indeed, unfortunate for you to have lost such an eligible match, Miss Eliza. I am sure you must feel it keenly.”

  “I am quite well, Miss Bingley,” replied Elizabeth. “I was never interested in Mr. Collins as a prospective husband, for I knew from the moment I met him that we did not suit. In Charlotte, he has found a wife who is more apposite in temperament. I do not repine his ‘loss,’ as you say.”

  “Then I can only pity you, Miss Eliza.”

  “I cannot imagine what for.”

  “Why,” said Miss Bingley, feigning astonishment, “for the loss of your chance to marry. I cannot think that you will receive another offer, for those in a position like yours cannot have many chances to marry.”

  “I am yet young, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “There is still time for me to wed.”

  “But your situation will not change.”

  “Perhaps it will not,” replied Elizabeth. She was becoming tired of this woman and her constant attacks
. “What of yourself? I understand you have been in society for several years now. Have you not had an opportunity to find a match yourself?”

  Miss Bingley’s eyes flashed. “I have no need to worry, for I already know the path my life will take.”

  “That is extremely fortunate for you. Few can see into the future and predict in advance the events of their life. Though you have kindly pointed out the obstacles standing in my way of making a good marriage, I cannot help but pity your situation, for having been a part of society for several years, you are still unmarried. You are four and twenty, are you not?”

  “Five and twenty, actually,” said Mr. Bingley, who happened to be standing nearby. Elizabeth had not noticed his presence, but when she chanced a glance at him, she noted his harsh stare at his sister. He was not amused with her behavior.

  But as Miss Bingley had ignored every sign from Mr. Darcy that it would perhaps be best to hold her tongue, so she ignored her brother. She was angry, and her in her anger she had lost all pretense toward polite behavior, though she retained her ability to make veiled insults.

  “You need not concern yourself for me. But I will pray for you, Miss Eliza, to find a match which would suit you. Does your father have any other parson cousins hiding away somewhere? Or perhaps some shopkeeper would do?”

  “I may simply be content to remain a maiden aunt, Miss Bingley,” replied Elizabeth. She wrapped her hands around Mr. Darcy’s arm—somewhat possessively, she was forced to confess—prompting a narrowing of the woman’s eyes and a hardness to her jaw which bespoke her fury. “However, if I am destined to end in such a way, as I have often jested with Jane, I am certain I will be content in my chosen path in life. What I will not be is a woman who is scorned for chasing after a man who does not want me. I will not stretch my hand for that which is beyond my reach.”

  Then Elizabeth turned, and with a gesture meant to indicate that she would appreciate a cup of punch, she walked off, with Mr. Darcy escorting her. They made their way to the refreshments, and Mr. Darcy was quick to fulfill her request. Elizabeth drank deeply, replenishing the reserves which had been depleted during the confrontation.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, looking upon her with admiration, “might I tell you how magnificent you just were?”

  Turning her gaze upon him, Elizabeth said: “Is it now admirable to hiss and spit, like a pair of angry tabbies?”

  “Perhaps not,” said Mr. Darcy, his regard never wavering. “But I can see nothing in your behavior that would indicate anything beyond simple defense against unjust attacks.”

  A glance back from whence they had come revealed that Mr. Bingley was standing close to his sister, and if his serious gaze and short, clipped statements were anything to go by, it appeared he was upbraiding her for her behavior. Whether Miss Bingley heard any of his words was debatable, as her stubborn eyes never left Elizabeth.

  “I thank you for the sentiment, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “Perhaps I should hold my tongue when she is uncivil, but her airs and attacks try my patience.”

  “The fault is hers. I would ask you to speak no more on it. Your spirited defense has only raised you in my estimation.”

  Nodding, Elizabeth smiled and acknowledged his admiration, and then promptly changed the subject. There were far more pleasant things of which to speak than Miss Caroline Bingley.

  The next day brought a significant event, for Charles Bingley proposed to Jane Bennet, and was accepted, though not without tears mingled with great joy. In watching the aftermath of the event, how sublime was Miss Bennet’s happiness, how her mother and sisters congratulated her with a sincerity which could not be feigned. Darcy wondered how he had ever thought the young lady to be indifferent to his friend. It seemed impossible.

  The news was not received, however, with universal joy. Those in residence at the Fitzwilliam house were, of course, happy for Bingley and his betrothed. But his family—or one particular element of his family—was not pleased.

  Something must have informed them of the joyful event, for when they arrived for dinner that evening—Fitzwilliam had thought it necessary to invite them one evening—Miss Bingley regarded her brother with suspicion. A disagreement was avoided until after dinner, when Bingley made the announcement to his family. After the communication was made, there was silence for a few moments, before it was broken by his eldest sister.

  “Are you certain about this, Charles? Jane is a wonderful girl, of course, but she will not help you in society.”

  “She is a gentleman’s daughter, Louisa!” exclaimed Bingley. “Did you expect I would be able to tempt the daughter of a duke into marriage with me?”

  Mrs. Hurst sighed. “No, I did not think that. But I had hoped for a gentleman’s daughter who was of a higher sphere.”

  “I love Miss Bennet, Louisa. Any other consideration is irrelevant. She is above me in society, and must be acceptable for that reason alone.”

  “Are you out of your senses?” demanded Miss Bingley. She glared at both of her siblings. “Miss Bennet is out of the question, Charles—you know this. And Louisa, I would appreciate it if you would not encourage him in this madness.”

  “It is not out of the question, Caroline. I am my own man, and I do not require your permission. Do not force me to act to cut you from my life.”

  Shocked that her brother would speak to her in such a fashion, Miss Bingley gaped at him. Apparently, she had not understood the changes the previous weeks had wrought in him, and still thought she could dictate to him. Bingley had matured much since being reunited with Miss Bennet, yet she thought he would jump to obey her.

  Though she was angry, she seemed to possess the presence of mind to desist in her demands. Instead she turned to Darcy, and looked at him, beseeching him to intervene.

  “Mr. Darcy, tell Charles that this is lunacy! This woman he means to have possesses nothing we require which will assist our acceptance in society.”

  “Your brother is correct, Miss Bingley,” replied Darcy, not wishing to involve himself in a sibling disagreement. “Miss Bennet is a gentlewoman.”

  “But her mother was not,” snapped Miss Bingley. “And her connections are nothing more than a country solicitor, a tradesman, and your aunt’s own clergyman. How can such ignominy be tolerated? Have you all gone mad?”

  “If this be madness, then I prefer it to sanity,” said Darcy. His tone caused her to start with surprise, so hard and unyielding it was. “In the matter of Miss Bennet’s fortune and connections, the former is unfortunate, though if that is insufficient to cool Bingley’s interest, then it means nothing to anyone but him. As for the latter, perhaps her connections are not as lacking as you thought.”

  Miss Bingley frowned. “What can you mean?”

  “Only this, Miss Bingley: one day, I hope that Miss Bennet’s connections will include both the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. If that comes to pass, then even you should find her connections acceptable.”

  Though Darcy reflected that he should not enjoy the consternation of another, in this instance he was forced to make an exception. Miss Bingley’s chalk white countenance told him that she understood exactly to what he referred, and while he wondered if she was about to be ill, at least she was silent for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter XXVI

  The day after Mr. Bingley proposed to Jane, the Bennet sisters met Anne and Georgiana, and proceeded to the shopping district. The gentlemen had arranged to go to a local club that morning for their own pursuits, which allowed the ladies some time on their own. Elizabeth was grateful for the opportunity, for there had not been many days without the gentlemen in attendance.

  Mr. Darcy was continuing charmingly—Elizabeth could not dispute that fact. The man was determined, and Elizabeth had decided, after some thought, that she found his resolve to be a point in his favor. In fact, it was quite . . . attractive, if she could be so indelicate as to use such a term.

  A nudge pulled Elizabeth’s attention from he
r ruminations about Mr. Darcy, and she turned to see Georgiana looking at her, an entirely contrived sort of innocence alive in her countenance. “It seems difficult for we mere mortals to keep your sister’s attention, Miss Bennet. What do you suppose consumes her?”

  “Oh, it will do no good to speak to Jane,” said Lydia. “For she is caught in the same trap.”

  The ladies all giggled, and Elizabeth directed a mock stern glare at them. But before she could speak, Kitty interrupted her.

  “You are one to speak, Lydia, for is your head not filled with the officers?”

  “I do not know how it could be,” replied Lydia, shooting a glare at her eldest sisters. “I have been denied their company by our father’s edict. I am certain it has broken poor Sanderson’s heart, to say nothing of Denny and Wickham.”

  A paleness came over Georgiana’s face, as it did whenever the man’s name was mentioned, but she kept her composure.

  “I cannot imagine that it is not for your own good,” said Anne, directing a bland look at Lydia. “Not all of the officers are what they appear. You, as a young girl, must learn to discern another’s motives. None of the officers can afford a wife, you know.”

  Lydia sniffed, but she did not respond. Though grateful to Anne for speaking on occasion to educate her younger sisters, Elizabeth did not think for a moment that they would listen to her. They did not listen to their elder sisters, after all.”

  “Regardless, I wish to go to the milliners,” said Lydia, with a wave of her hand. “I saw a darling little bonnet there the last time we came. I simply must have it.”

  Sharing a glance with Jane, both sisters shook their heads. It was likely that Lydia did not possess enough money to purchase a bonnet, and she would almost certainly beg one of her sisters for enough to do so. Though she could not speak for the others, Elizabeth was not about to indulge her already spoiled younger sister.

  “Miss Darcy! Miss de Bourgh!’