by Jann Rowland
Elizabeth attempted to tell herself that she should not excite her own expectations. She reminded herself over and over that gentlemen of Mr. Darcy’s standing in the world did not consider young women of her station as prospective brides. But while she was aware of this fact, her heart proved traitorous, and she began to feel that it would be something indeed to be the sole focus of Mr. Darcy’s attentions. He was circumspect in all his interactions, though Elizabeth could detect a certain disinclination for Miss Bingley’s company, but if he and Elizabeth were together in any gathering, he almost always sought out her company, and their conversations spanned a wide range of subjects of interest to both of them.
He was intelligent and knowledgeable about many things, and though she would scarcely have imagined it, their opinions coincided more often than not. And though perhaps she would have thought that he might have replied with a patronizing air to a slip of a girl who dared to disagree with him, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he would listen to her intently while she explained her reasoning and would then state his own opinion in an intelligent manner. In a few circumstances, Elizabeth actually felt the pleasure of persuading him to her own point of view, which surprised her greatly. He was certainly not proud enough to dismiss her opinion out of hand without even listening, unlike some other men she had met whom were only a fraction of his consequence.
The incident where Mrs. Bennet had tried to keep Elizabeth from speaking with Mr. Darcy was not repeated. Mr. Darcy’s pointed look the first time Mrs. Bennet had attempted to call Elizabeth away had induced the Bennet matron to desist all such similar efforts. This did not stop the woman from complaining outside of Mr. Darcy’s hearing, and she quite loudly proclaimed ill use and reprimanded Elizabeth for purposefully seeking to ruin Jane’s courtship with Mr. Bingley. But since Mr. Bingley remained as assiduous as ever in his attentions to Jane, Elizabeth chose the simple expedient of ignoring her mother.
The other development in those weeks was that Mr. Wickham was transferred away from the regiment in Meryton, though Elizabeth’s youngest sister railed at the injustice of it. As the officers were instructed to be silent on the matter, not much was known of his departure or where he went, but if the rumors were to be believed, he was headed for Spain and a new commission in the regulars. It was just as well, Elizabeth thought—though she was in no danger whatsoever of falling prey to the man, Lydia and Catherine could well have been ruined by him. As long as he was gone, Elizabeth did not particularly care where he had been shipped off to.
In this fashion, the rest of October passed away, and the first weeks of November slipped by. Then one day, near the middle of the month, a note arrived from Netherfield, inviting to the two eldest Bennet sisters to dinner.
“An invitation to dinner at Netherfield!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet with an excited squeal. She stood and snatched the letter from Jane’s hands, and then she sat back down to read it more carefully.
“This is a clear sign of Mr. Bingley’s favor, Jane. Of course you must go, and you must dress carefully so as to use his fascination with you to its best advantage.”
“Really, mother,” said Elizabeth, “I would think that Mr. Bingley would still consider Jane to be the loveliest woman he has ever seen even if she were dressed in nothing more than sackcloth.”
Mrs. Bennet directed a contemptuous glare at Elizabeth before she once again turned to Jane. “You must go up to your room and choose a dress carefully, Jane. It would not do to show up wearing nothing more than an everyday dress.”
Though she was obviously not in agreement with her mother concerning her wardrobe, Jane clearly decided that it was not worth the argument which would ensue should she demur. Instead, she turned to Elizabeth and said:
“Let us prepare together, Elizabeth.”
As Elizabeth was not averse to the prospect of being in company with the mysterious Mr. Darcy, she readily agreed, and the two rose to return to their rooms to prepare.
But Mrs. Bennet had other ideas. “Elizabeth does not need to accompany you.”
Jane turned and regarded her mother quite calmly. “The invitation includes Elizabeth, Mama.”
Sniffing with disdain, Mrs. Bennet did not even deign to look at her second eldest. “You may tell Mr. Bingley that your sister is indisposed.”
“No, Mama.” Jane’s voice was surprisingly firm. “I wish to have Elizabeth with me today. We shall go together.”
Angrily, Mrs. Bennet turned and glared at her eldest daughters, but instead of railing against them, she turned to Mr. Bennet in mute appeal. But as Mr. Bennet took no notice of the conversation and was not inclined to forbid Elizabeth from going, Mrs. Bennet desisted and merely waved them both from the room. In truth, she had given in far more quickly than Elizabeth would have expected. Perhaps she had actually learned something about Mr. Bennet’s indifference.
Thus, Elizabeth and Jane made their way to Netherfield early that afternoon in Mr. Bingley’s carriage, which had been dispatched to collect them.
“Our mother is certainly correct about Mr. Bingley’s intentions,” said Elizabeth once they were ensconced in the conveyance. “I cannot imagine that it will take the man much longer to come to the point.”
“Lizzy!” exclaimed Jane, though she was giggling and blushing at the same time.
Elizabeth felt a warmth well up inside her at the sound of her sister using a shortened form of her name, glad that they had managed to gain a measure of closeness between them despite her mother’s attempted interference. Elizabeth thought that she would like having a close sister very well indeed!
“In fact,” said Elizabeth, “I very much wonder whether he will even bother with a courtship. He seems eager to move directly to engagement and marriage, as long as both are of a short duration, of course.”
Though her countenance was still bright crimson, Jane managed to turn an arch look on Elizabeth. “And Mr. Darcy is courting you less assiduously, I suppose?”
All levity departed from Elizabeth at that moment, and she looked away from her sister in embarrassment. “Mr. Darcy is indeed an excellent man,” said she in a quiet voice. “Your Mr. Bingley is, too, of course. But men of Mr. Darcy’s stature do not look among penniless young gentlewomen who have been dispossessed from their homes for marriage partners.”
“Elizabeth,” said Jane, the compassion in her voice bringing Elizabeth around to face her sister, “I doubt Mr. Darcy knows much of our troubles.”
“Perhaps he knows little, but I am certain he suspects much.”
“If that is so, it has not seemed to cool his ardor. Surely you have noticed that he speaks to no one at Longbourn other than you and, occasionally, me. The man can hardly take his eyes away from you. It is part of the reason that my mother is so critical of him, though his refusal to dance with Lydia was the genesis of her dislike. I suspect that he is just as lost to you as you suspect Mr. Bingley is lost to me.”
“Please do not raise my hopes, Jane,” said Elizabeth, fighting against the tears that seemed destined to well up. “I could not bear it if my hopes were raised, only to be dashed to pieces should he go away.”
“I shall not,” said Jane, though she reached forward and grasped Elizabeth’s hands between her own. At length, Elizabeth looked up into the eyes of her sister, and she was mesmerized by the compassion she saw there. There, within their depths, she could see the love that her sister already felt for her, and she began to feel the tears of quiet joy rolling down her cheeks.
“I would urge you, however, to watch Mr. Darcy,” said Jane. “Truly watch him, Lizzy. He is not an inconstant man. I have only spoken with him a handful of times, but I can already be certain of that. Given the attention he pays you, I cannot think of any explanation other than that he is considering you as a potential companion in life. He might not even truly know what he is considering at this time, but his interest is plain for all to see.”
Jane paused for a moment before she smiled and said, “Do not send him away for the m
ere suspicion that what society deems acceptable will rule his actions. And remember: a man needs some encouragement from a woman before he will find himself in love. Give him that encouragement.”
It was through watery eyes that Elizabeth smiled, and when Jane moved to her side of the carriage and gently held her to her breast, Elizabeth allowed herself to rest against her sister. Elizabeth sighed in contentment. Aunt Gardiner had often provided this comfort to Elizabeth in the time she had lived at Gracechurch Street, particularly in the early years of Elizabeth’s sojourn there, when the pain of memories become too great for her to bear. To have such comfort now provided by her dearest sister was almost beyond Elizabeth’s capacity to understand.
“I will not send him away, Jane,” said Elizabeth at last in a tremulous voice.
“And you will make him fall in love with you?” asked Jane in an arch tone.
Elizabeth laughed. “As much as I am able, I will see that Mr. Darcy falls in love with me.”
The rest of the ride was spent with Elizabeth ensconced in her sister’s embrace, relishing the help and support which she had not found for the past six weeks in her father’s house, but which she now realized that she had missed desperately. And as their sisterly moment had occurred early in the journey to Netherfield, it was some minutes before they arrived at the estate. Thus, Elizabeth was able to compose herself so that when they disembarked at the entrance to the estate, she felt tolerably able to greet their hosts.
They exited the carriage with the assistance of Mr. Bingley, who was there with his ever-cheerful smile etched upon his face, and for a moment, Elizabeth wondered if the expression were a permanent fixture. Elizabeth smiled at the two of them, noting that as soon as Jane’s feet touched the ground, she and Mr. Bingley had all but forgotten Elizabeth; if anyone deserved the happiness of being courted by a good man, it was dear Jane.
Content with the knowledge that everything was proceeding as it should, she turned her attention to the other man who had been there to greet them, and her breath caught in her throat. Mr. Darcy was not an open man like his friend; rather, he kept his own counsel. If she had to choose one word to describe him, that word would be “inscrutable.” But at that moment, he was watching her with such intensity and such utter warmth that his feelings were clear to see for anyone who cared to look.
Regarding him with wonder, Elizabeth approached him, aware of the fact that they were essentially alone, as Jane and Mr. Bingley were so focused on each other that they could not spare any attention for anything else. Mr. Darcy watched her approach, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. When she had arrived within arm’s length of where he was standing, Elizabeth stopped and waited for him to speak.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, taking her hand and bowing over it. “Are you well?”
“I have never been better, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth breathlessly. The emotion she put behind her voice seemed to pierce Mr. Darcy’s demeanor, and all at once, his face was suffused with the widest smile she had ever seen upon it. And in that instant, all of her questions seemed to be answered. Jane was correct; Mr. Darcy not only held her in high regard, but he also appeared to be well on his way to falling in love with her.
As she was with him, she realized in an instant.
“I am glad to hear it,” murmured he. “You are very welcome here. Though the invitation specified that both you and your sister were invited, I was afraid you would not come.”
“How could I not?” asked Elizabeth. She cocked her head to the side and gazed up at him, wondering if he would say anything else. Not that it mattered, she supposed—it was not as if there was anything holding her back. Except for perhaps her father’s recalcitrance.
The thought sobered her, and she felt a little of the joy of the moment bleed from her heart. If her father should be obstinate and refuse his consent, then what would she do? She was more than eighteen months away from her twenty-first birthday, and the thought of continuing to live in her father’s house was quickly becoming intolerable.
“Is something wrong, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth blinked, and her eyes refocused on Mr. Darcy, who was watching her. His smile had left, and now he appeared to be somewhat apprehensive.
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, forcing away the errant thought. There was nothing she could do about the situation with her parents, and she was determined not to waste another moment concerning herself with such matters during her time at Netherfield.
“Then let us enter the house. I believe that Bingley’s family is waiting for us in the music room.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to roll her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, and Mr. Darcy chuckled at the sight.
“To own the truth, I believe I would much rather walk about the grounds in the company of a certain lady than brave Bingley’s sisters in their den.”
Mr. Darcy’s voice was quiet, so as to avoid being heard by Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth giggled at the thought and allowed herself to be led into the house, where they were followed by Mr. Bingley and Jane.
“I do not disagree, Mr. Darcy. But we should observe the social niceties. After all, did we not address that subject previously?”
“Indeed we did, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, leading them into the sitting room, where the sisters stood to greet them. Mentally, Elizabeth prepared herself for what would almost certainly be a trying time.
By the end of the first quarter hour in the sitting room, Darcy was already longing to be away and alone in the company of the bewitching Miss Elizabeth Bennet. By the end of the first half hour, he was wishing Bingley’s sisters were residents of bedlam, although India would be equally acceptable.
Their every statement was filled with such condescension toward the Bennet sisters—ladies who were above them in social status, to say nothing of their deportment and manners—that he wondered that the Bennet sisters did not take offense to their thinly veiled attacks. Actually, to be truthful, Miss Bingley’s statements were the offensive ones; Darcy had to acknowledge that Mrs. Hurst did not wholly take part, though she was generally engaged in supporting her sister. After some time, even her patience appeared to begin to wear thin.
The Bennet sisters, to their credit, withstood all Miss Bingley’s poor manners with good-natured responses, holding her at bay and turning her attacks back on her without giving offense. Miss Bennet was every bit the angel which Bingley had always described her as, and though she responded calmly when necessary, Darcy had the distinct impression that she understood the thrust of whatever Miss Bingley said. He quickly realized that she was the perfect woman for Bingley. She was steady and calm, whereas Bingley tended to be rather excitable; she would bring stability to his somewhat frenetic life; and though she kept her emotions under good regulation at all times, she appeared to feel for Darcy’s friend deeply. He determined then and there that he would support Bingley against whatever machinations Miss Bingley devised and would see him obtain his heart’s desire, assuming Miss Bennet was that desire.
But the bulk of Darcy’s amazement was reserved for the object of his own affections. Miss Elizabeth was, in a word, masterful. While she was more outgoing and vocal than her sister, she never stepped beyond the boundaries of propriety in responding to Miss Bingley’s impertinent comments. Her replies were given with such a mixture of sweetness and archness that one could not take offense, even if one happened to be the recipient of her clever barbs. If Darcy had not already been well on his way to being enamored with her, he fancied that evening would have cemented the matter in his mind once and for all.
Only once did he note anything other than her usual spirit in her demeanor. Hurst had chosen that evening to be more active in company, and he took a lull in the conversation to regale Darcy with tales of his latest acquisition of a hunting rifle, going over the piece in exquisite detail to the disinterested Darcy. Miss Elizabeth listened to the long-winded monologue for some minutes before she fixed Darcy with an arched
eyebrow, indicating quite clearly that she would not suffer the buffoon any longer. Then she excused herself to go speak with her sister and Bingley. The part of Darcy that was in love was tempted to follow her and ignore the fact that Hurst was almost certain to become offended by his desertion. The gentleman in him, however, could not bring himself to act in such a rude manner, even to such a colossal bore as Reginald Hurst.
But Miss Elizabeth had not gone more than twenty steps before she was waylaid by Miss Bingley, and though Hurst continued to drone on about his rifle and the sport at the estate, the two women were close enough that Darcy could hear much of what was being said between them.
“Miss Eliza!” cried Miss Bingley with false friendliness. “I see you have tired of the gentlemen’s conversation. Mr. Hurst can be ever so tiresome when he speaks of his guns, his hounds, and his hunts.”
Smiling, Miss Elizabeth replied, “You shall find no argument from me. I am afraid I do not know one end of a rifle from the other.”
Privately, Darcy had to own that he completely agreed with both ladies as to the boring nature of such a subject. A rifle was a tool to be used, and though he could afford to purchase the best, he could not imagine rhapsodizing over one, as Hurst was prone to do.
“But if you please, Miss Bingley,” continued Elizabeth, “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from calling me ‘Eliza,’ as I have never before answered to it.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed, as if annoyed at the thought that she would be denied anything, even the use of what was, to Darcy’s mind, a rather unlovely moniker. Now, “Elizabeth,” on the other hand, was a dignified and pretty sort of name, and he wholeheartedly approved of her parents bestowing it on such a lovely example of feminine charms.