Implacable Resentment

by Jann Rowland

  Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy’s eye as his aunt spoke, and he appeared as if he thought she might be offended by his aunt’s rather crass and rude statement. But Elizabeth only favored him with the slightest of smiles. She was not about to be offended by the ill-judged opinions of a woman who was so very self-absorbed.

  “Indeed, she was, your ladyship. I have never wanted for any instruction in those subjects in which all accomplished women must have knowledge.”

  “Ah, but who decides the requirements to be deemed accomplished?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with a twinkle in his eye. “I have seen many a woman who is called accomplished merely because she nets a fine purse.”

  “Indeed, you are correct,” said Mr. Darcy. “It is a term which is much too liberally applied.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow in the manner she knew he found charming. “And how would you define the term, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Oh, an accomplished woman must possess the usual skills, among them an aptitude for music, an understanding of modern languages, and so on.” His expression became downright playful at that moment. “But I must own that should a woman not improve her mind by extensive reading, then the rest of it is all wasted.”

  By Elizabeth’s side, the colonel was forced to hold back a guffaw, as he clearly understood Mr. Darcy’s reference to her penchant for the written word, which they had discussed during dinner. Unfortunately, it was near impossible for Mr. Collins to remain silent for any length of time.

  “And it is my assertion that there is no young woman so accomplished or so elegant as your dear daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, for there is in her carriage a nobility and intelligence such that it may render any other pretenders for the title as nothing. You must be very proud of her indeed.”

  “You are mistaken,” replied Anne with a bit of a blush. “I am not accomplished.”

  “Of course you are,” snapped Lady Catherine. “Mr. Collins has the right of it. Though you do not currently play, net purses, paint screens, or any of that other nonsense that the world thinks so highly of, I am confident that should your health have allowed it, you would have been the most accomplished of your sex.”

  Lady Catherine turned to Mr. Darcy. “Anne is uniquely suited to whatever endeavor she should bend her will toward, do you not agree?”

  Anne looked skyward, her cheeks flaming with mortification, but Mr. Darcy merely said, “I am certain my cousin is most capable.”

  The murmur of conversation in that part of the room rose, and Elizabeth was left to her playing, which she attended to before she could be singled out by Lady Catherine. Beside her, the colonel was smiling at the inanities to which he had just been a witness, and after some few moments, he turned to her and with a grin said:

  “My aunt is right about one thing—your playing is very fine indeed.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. It has often been my companion these years. I do enjoy the activity very much.”

  Elizabeth stayed at the pianoforte for the rest of the short time they were there, and she thought that Lady Catherine might command her to cease playing, but the lady seemed content with her audience and made no further comment toward her. When it was nearing time for Elizabeth and Mr. Collins to depart, Mr. Darcy stood and made his way to Elizabeth’s side, stopping when he was in full view of the pianoforte to stand there with the ghost of a smile on his face.

  “I am relieved to know of Mr. Darcy’s opinion of me,” said Elizabeth, a playful mood rising up within her. “His countenance is often so forbidding that if I was at all unsure, then I might think that he disapproved of me.”

  “I am not so very stern,” said Mr. Darcy as the colonel chuckled. “And you are well aware of my opinion of you, so you may drop any pretense.”

  “There is no pretense, sir,” said Elizabeth. She wished to smile at him and show him the full brilliancy of her feelings for him, but under the hawk eye of Lady Catherine, it seemed wiser to moderate her expressions.

  “I am glad to hear it. But we must speak quickly before my aunt summons me back.”

  Elizabeth nodded her head as she continued to play.

  “Tomorrow, I will be leaving the estate, and though I do not expect to be gone long, I wished you to know of it before I leave.”

  “Is it concerning my . . . particular problem?”

  “It is,” confirmed Mr. Darcy. He leaned forward and in a low tone said, “I will be speaking with Mr. Collins’s superior. I hope that I am able to prompt an investigation into certain matters which have occurred in the past week. Your situation should be addressed at the same time.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth very quietly. “I am beyond grateful for your help.”

  Mr. Darcy only smiled. “I am helping myself as much as I am helping you.”

  “And Anne and I will be here to support you,” said the colonel as he cleared his throat pointedly.

  Mr. Darcy nodded and stood up straight again, no doubt knowing that he must be careful in front of Lady Catherine.

  “I do not doubt that it shall be entertaining in the extreme,” continued the colonel in a jolly tone. “I have not had this much fun in ages.”

  At that moment, Mr. Collins announced that they must depart, though it was clear that his announcement was made with the greatest reluctance. Elizabeth could not imagine that the man would ever willingly suggest that he leave the lady’s presence, which indicated that Lady Catherine had spoken to him at some point in the past about the appropriate length for one to stay after dinner.

  The carriage was offered to convey them back to Hunsford, and Elizabeth departed in the company of her husband. And though she did not have an opportunity for a personal farewell with Mr. Darcy, she knew that he could see the depths of her heart in her eyes. And she left, content in the knowledge that the necessary steps to release her from the yoke of Mr. Collins were about to be put into motion.

  Chapter XX

  The night of the ball at Netherfield, Jane Bennet prepared herself as she usually would for such an event, but her heart was not in it. For ten years, she had done without Elizabeth’s presence, but now that she had been tantalized with her dear sister’s sparkling company for those few weeks, Jane felt that there was something important missing from her everyday life. For the first time, she found herself feeling resentful of her father.

  The Bennet ladies gathered in the entrance hall of Longbourn, and as Jane looked at her sisters, she could see how subdued they were. She was not the only one who had been affected by Elizabeth’s forced departure. Of course, the exception was Lydia, ignorant as she was, for she had loudly proclaimed that she was happy to be rid of her elder sister. But Kitty, Lydia’s close follower no more, had been more thoughtful of late and was disinclined to follow her younger sister’s example. And if Mary moralized less, then Jane could only be happy for the change. How strange that such a material difference could have been caused by their father’s betrayal of their sister.

  “Let us depart, girls,” said Mrs. Bennet as she bustled into the room. Mrs. Bennet was no longer inclined to complain and moan about whatever upsetting thing Elizabeth had told her.

  “Where is my father?” asked Jane, though she had much rather avoid him.

  Mrs. Bennet huffed and waved her hand in exasperation. “Your father will not be moved. He claims he will not attend the ball with us.”

  In truth, Jane was not surprised. Mr. Bennet had rarely removed himself from his bookroom since he had forced Elizabeth from the house. Regardless, to avoid a private ball given by a newcomer to the area at the largest estate in the area was beyond rude.

  The rest of her sisters did not comment, nor did they appear to care about their father’s incivility. Soon, the Bennet ladies were filing out to the carriage, and they got under way, and if the carriage was less cramped than it might otherwise have been, it was cold comfort indeed.

  The drive in front of Netherfield was decorated with a string of lanterns which illuminated the night, and th
e manor house glowed and hummed with activity. Servants, their uniforms crisply pressed, stepped forward to assist the Bennets from their carriage, bowing and welcoming them to Netherfield. They entered the house to the sight of the master of the house approaching, his face split with a smile wider than any Jane had yet seen adorning his face.

  “Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, welcome!” exclaimed he as he grasped Jane’s hand and kissed it.

  “Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Bingley,” enthused Mrs. Bennet. “It is very kind of you to have invited us.”

  “It is no trouble at all, Mrs. Bennet,” replied he. But while Mrs. Bennet preened and tittered and acted as if Mr. Bingley had paid her the highest of compliments, Jane, who had spent more time in Mr. Bingley’s company than anyone else in Hertfordshire, could tell that he was much less enthusiastic and much more reserved than was his wont. Given their previous discussion, Jane could not help but conjecture that he now disapproved of her parents.

  With a mischievous smile, he excused them—Mrs. Bennet had already turned her attention to Lady Lucas, who was nearby—and led Jane to the side, saying, “I hope you have saved the first dance for me, Miss Bennet.”

  Jane flushed. “Of course, Mr. Bingley.”

  “Excellent! And I believe that I will require the supper set, too, if you please.”

  Her blush deepened, and Jane thought she was almost glowing scarlet. “It is yours if you wish, Mr. Bingley,” replied she, though her voice was little more than a whisper. “Are you certain you wish to make so . . .”

  “I have never been so certain of anything in my life, Miss Bennet.” The pure emotion in Mr. Bingley’s voice pulled Jane’s eyes up to his, and for a moment, she thought she was floating on a cloud, weightless and free. The intensity in his gaze almost reminded her of when his friend watched Elizabeth.

  “Then it is settled,” she managed after a moment of trying to find her voice.

  “Good.” Mr. Bingley paused and looked about. “If you will wait for me, Miss Bennet, I will complete my duties in the receiving line and then come and collect you. I would very much like to escort you into the ballroom.”

  As he returned to finish receiving his guests, Jane watched him, taking the time to calm her racing heart and compose herself. Whatever deficiencies Mr. Bingley now saw in her family, his behavior proved his enduring good opinion of her. There was something . . . eager in his attentions this evening. Jane did not dare contemplate what exactly this might portend, but there was an excitement in her which could not be repressed. It seemed like a momentous evening.

  At length, when the receiving line had all passed through, Mr. Bingley excused himself and approached Jane, his irrepressible smile once again fixed upon her. “Shall we, Miss Bennet?”

  Nodding, Jane put her hand on his arm and allowed herself to be guided into the ballroom. The large room was filled with the residents of the surrounding countryside, milling about, speaking with one another. The band at the far end was already engaged in prelude music, and the soft strains of the strings wafted over the room like the most delicious scent. The room itself had been decorated in the soft shades of gold and red, and though Jane doubted that it had been Miss Bingley’s intent, the subdued lighting almost suggested a hint of romance in the air. It was altogether the most breathtaking scene Jane had ever witnessed.

  Soon, the time for the first dance had come, and the dancers formed up on the floor, the honor of leading the dance falling to Jane and Mr. Bingley. The music began, and they commenced the steps of the dance. The first pass was executed with all the gracefulness of a swan, and when they closed once again and he took her hand, Jane, unable to keep her concern for her sister at bay, even on this most magical of nights, said:

  “Have you heard from Mr. Darcy?”

  “Only once, when he informed me that he had arrived safely.”

  The dance took them apart for several moments, and when they once again approached each other, Jane continued:

  “I am very grateful that Mr. Darcy should take it on himself to assist my poor sister.”

  “I believe that his own interest is engaged in this matter, Miss Bennet.”

  “So I understand. But many men would not continue to pursue a woman in the face of such . . .” Jane paused, glancing around to ensure that no one was attending to their conversation. “What I mean to say is I think very highly of Mr. Darcy for not wavering from his purpose despite all that has happened.”

  “He will not,” was Mr. Bingley’s firm reply. “A steadier character than Darcy’s I have yet to meet.”

  They separated, and it was a few moments before they once again met on the floor. Mr. Bingley’s gaze upon her rivalled his friend’s in intensity when he said:

  “I will not waver either, Miss Bennet. Of that, I assure you.”

  Blushing, Jane nodded her head, feeling blessed that she and her younger sister had protectors of such constancy.

  The night was magical. Jane rarely had occasion to sit, as her hand was solicited for every set, and since Mr. Bingley was the host, he did not sit out a dance either. He performed his duties with the aplomb of a truly amiable man. And if neither of their eyes left the other even when they were dancing with other partners, no one in the room could fault them, and all Meryton was afire with speculation as to when their engagement would be finalized.

  Jane herself never realized how much she gazed at Mr. Bingley, but she did know that for perhaps the first time in her life, she was truly happy. She was being courted by a man of principle and honor, and she had hope that her dearest sister would be released from her predicament by her own admirer.

  Unfortunately, with a family such as hers, it was impossible for the entire evening to pass without some sort of vexation rearing its ugly head. And though Kitty did not embarrass her as she might have previously, there was no change in the behaviors of Mrs. Bennet and Lydia. Her mother spent the entire night speaking loudly of her expectations for her eldest daughter and the handsome and very rich man from the north, and nothing Jane said could quiet her rhapsodies. It took all her fortitude to ignore the words which continually spilled from her mother’s mouth, but Jane was able to take heart in Mr. Bingley, who looked at her with commiseration and mouthed, “Courage!” to her on more than one occasion.

  Lydia was a different matter altogether. She flirted and laughed, flitting from one officer to another, and given the way some of them looked at her with naked lust engraved on their faces, Jane knew it would not be long before her sister disgraced herself and all her family. But it took Mary’s plea before she finally decided to act.

  “Jane, can you not do something about Lydia?” pleaded Mary. The night had progressed, and it was almost time for supper, and given the wine flowing freely, Jane knew that Lydia’s behavior would not get any better as the night grew longer.

  Nodding, Jane slipped away from her sister, and marching up to Lydia, she took her hand and directed an apologetic smile at the young man with whom she was currently flirting.

  “Jane, what are you doing?” squawked Lydia as Jane led her away. “I was speaking with Denny!”

  “I care not!” cried Jane as they reached the entrance hall.

  Jane spied a door to the side of the hall and, opening it, discovered a small room that was empty. She quickly guided her still protesting sister inside.

  Ever impetuous, Lydia made to get past her, saying, “Let me return to the ball. I was having ever so much fun!”

  “You shall not until you have heard what I have to say!” snapped Jane.

  Lydia blinked, seeing Jane angry for perhaps the first time, but her whining and protestations did not stop.

  “Lydia, stop it! You are on the verge of disgracing us all with your behavior. I demand you behave with more decorum!”

  “Mama is not displeased with me!”

  “When is Mama ever displeased with you?”

  Jane looked at her youngest sister, and as she noted the pout on Lydia’s face and the firm set to her
jaw, contempt for the girl rose within her. Lydia was not unintelligent, but her strong will and exuberant demeanor had never been checked with instructions on proper behavior, and it made her unwise.

  “Now, you listen to me, Lydia,” said Jane, speaking slowly and clearly to ensure her sister understood she was serious, “if you do not cease this unseemly behavior, then I will ask Mr. Bingley to remove you to an upstairs bedroom where you will stay and miss the rest of the ball.”

  Lydia’s chin jutted out in defiance. “You have no authority over me. I shall act as I see fit.”

  “Perhaps she has no authority, but I would hope you would obey your elder sister.”

  Startled by the voice, the sisters turned as one to see Mr. Bingley enter the room. And though Jane had always thought of him as a congenial man, the events of the past few days had proven that he was able to summon a stern bearing as well. He walked toward them, and after nodding at Jane with an affectionate smile, he turned a hard and unforgiving glare back upon Lydia.

  “I must own that though I have seen your improper behavior in the past, Miss Lydia, I have never seen you throw caution to the wind with such abandon. Perhaps it is the absence of your father which has prompted this departure from decent behavior?”

  The flush of Lydia’s cheeks told Jane all she had to know. Mr. Bennet had never been much of a deterrent before, but his mere presence—even in spite of his propensity to ignore her excesses—must have kept the girl in check to a certain extent.

  “In this matter, I support your sister,” said Mr. Bingley. “If you do not cease this unseemly flirting, loud laughter, and your other attempts to make a spectacle of yourself, then you shall be confined to a bedroom with a footman guarding you to ensure you do not leave.”

  “You cannot do that!” cried Lydia.

  “I assure you that I can,” was Mr. Bingley’s merciless response. “Given how your mother likes to exclaim about how I am courting her eldest daughter, do you think she will gainsay me in this matter? Furthermore, your father is not present—not that I believe he would care in the slightest should I remove you from the ball.