Darcy and the Accomplished Woman

by Linda Phelps

  Louisa smoothes my hair. “There, there,” she says. How simple for her. She already has a husband.

  Miss Georgiana’s Journal (Pemberly)

  Mr. Bingley and Brother announce that they are going to Hertfordshire to hunt and tend to Netherfield, but I think that is not true. They often talk privately together. They cannot have secrets about pheasants! I am sure Brother means to make an offer to Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Nothing on earth could make me happier. Imagine Elizabeth, the mistress of Pemberly, my sister! What exquisite times we shall have.

  I will spare a sentence for poor Miss Caroline. All her airs and false praise have gone for nothing. She will be desolate. She has my sympathy. I know what it is like to be unable to marry the man you love.

  Now that I consider it, I expect Mr. Bingley goes to make an offer to the elder sister, Jane. It is a happy ending, as if in a book. Perhaps they will marry at the same altar on the same day. That would be perfection! I will wait for Brother’s letter with the “surprise” he promised to bring me from Rosings Park. It will be all the better for the delay.

  And now the sisters and Mr. Hurst are off in three days to Scarsborough for at least a fortnight. They plan to enjoy the sea air and the other attractions that abound there. Brother did not argue when I begged to stay here. I will practice and read and draw and wander with no one to say me nay.

  Caroline Bingley looked up from the purse she pretended to work. “Mr. William Longstreet,” said the butler. She exchanged an amazed glance with her sister. She rose and put the purse down on the book she had earlier pretended to read. “Mr. Longstreet,” said she. “I am astonished. You are the last person we expected to see here at Pemberly.”

  “I hope I do not intrude,” said William, bowing. “I was in the area and meant to call on Mr. Darcy, although I understand now that he is not at home.”

  “He has presently gone to Hertfordshire with our brother to see that all is well with our home there,” said Louisa. “Netherfield. Have you heard us speak of it?”

  “Indeed, Madam, I have been honoured by your hospitality at that very house.”

  “Yes, Louisa,” said Caroline. “Mr. Longstreet attended our ball.”

  “I remember now,” said Louisa. “You will excuse me, Mr. Longstreet, but I feel a head ache coming on. I will leave my sister to entertain you.”

  “You said nothing about a head ache,” said Caroline.

  “It has come very suddenly. I will tell Georgiana you are here,” said Louisa as she left them alone together.

  The couple sat in comfortable silence for a moment, broken when Caroline said, ‘You are very welcome. Perhaps you bring me some stories of our friends. I would like to hear them, if they are amusing.”

  “Pardon me, but you seem rather as if you need a distraction. Have you been ill?”

  “I am entirely well, thank you. Rather than ask such a question I would prefer you revert to your usual silliness when you look upon me.”

  “You are not yet bored by my unvarying praises of your beauty?”

  “I might become so if I had any sense that you mean what you say. But have you news of our friends in town? I feel quite isolated here.”

  “Do you recall the stories I told you when you were small?” He indicated the size she had been with his hand. “Pirates and princesses romped in most of them, and when I stopped you would say, “Please, Will, tell me another,” and of course I did, often until you were nodding with your need for a nap.”

  Caroline looked at him for a moment. “I do not recall this,” said she.

  “You were very small, too young to have memories of that time. And you were already a rare beauty.”

  “Well then, please Will, tell me another.” Obligingly, William made her current with the peccadilloes of their London friends. Mrs. Gordon complained of her husband’s love of spirits. He drank wine when in company, but he and a few of his friends lingered much too long over the after dinner brandy. Mrs. Gordon was humiliated by his lack of manners and the loudness of his voice once he did join the ladies. William had himself been present on the famous night with Mr. Gordon lost his footing and crashed the table where coffee was to be served onto the lap of the Dowager Phillips.

  Lady Wentworth’s personal maid had borrowed one of her mistress’s dresses and a hat whereupon she had entered several shops. Being mistaken for her mistress by a series of shopkeepers, she had no difficulty purchasing several pretty items of apparel which she charged to the accounts of Lady Wentworth. It seems she then sold these hats and necklaces and shawls to women whose company Lady Wentworth would never have tolerated in her own drawing room. The maid repeated this endeavor on several occasions, achieving financial success for some months in this fashion, for Lady Wentworth bought so many items for herself that these others did not catch her notice when she examined her expenses.

  “Ah, Mr. Longstreet,” said Caroline. “You do discover the most fascinating outrages.”

  “I was reminded of the time you stole the silver spoons.”

  “I stole spoons?”

  “You did. Not the pewter sort that could be found in the kitchen, but the finest silver dessert spoons the house afforded. The stable hand’s daughter had mentioned that she must share her spoon with her little brother, for the family did not possess enough for all its members. You gave them to her.”

  “I think I do remember,” said Caroline. Or I remember being ordered to get them back. Then I was imprisoned in the nursery for an entire week. The governess scolded me, but not so heartily as Louisa did. She was furious. I have not thought of that in years.”

  “Indeed she was. She tried to put the blame on me, but I refused to take it. I believe she would have spanked you had she been older.”

  Caroline laughed at the memory. “But have you another story to tell me?”

  “One more,” said William, “although this is not a London story. Do you remember the Bennet sisters from Hertfordshire?” Caroline was silent. “You do, to be sure, but this is another Bennet sister. She is said to have run away with that infamous officer, Wickham.”

  “What?” cried Caroline. “I knew the Bennet daughters were ill bred, but I had not anticipated anything so dreadful. Did they go to Scotland to marry without the permission of her parents?”

  “Not they. They came to London where they lived together without any marriage whatever for some time. Then there was a brief announcement in the Times that they had married, but the girl’s reputation will not be easily repaired. Her family is believed to be too ashamed to hold their heads up. This is not the type of episode that will be forgotten.”

  “I can scarcely believe it. You are sure it was neither Jane nor Elizabeth who ran off with this Wickham?”

  “Entirely sure.”

  “How dreadful for our friends! The Bennet sisters were not likely to ever find rich husbands, but with this stain on their family name I fear they will never find any husbands at all. They have no money. What will become of them? I feel all the horror of their plight.”

  “Perhaps you do, “said William, “but anyone seeing your face at this moment might think you feel happiness, not horror. You are smiling as if delighted.”

  “Oh, I assure you, I do not feel any delight. What an idea!” Caroline arranged her features into a portrait of solemn sympathy

  “That is unfortunate for me,” said William, “for your smile is entirely lovely.”

  “Mr. Longstreet,” scolded Caroline, as she continued to smile at him.

  Neither of them knew that Georgiana had stopped in the doorway behind them at the mention of Wickham, nor did they know when she backed silently away.

  Miss Georgiana Darcy’s Journal (Pemberly)

  Wickham has married a sister of Elizabeth Bennet! I am ashamed to say that this news has filled me with what I can only think of as jealousy. I admit that once I loved him, but most of a year has passed since then. Will the wicked charm with which he made me care for him never be forgotten?

 
; Worse, this can only mean that Brother will not marry Miss Bennet. How could he marry the sister of a woman who made the mistake I escaped? How could he attach our family name in any way with Wickham’s?

  Darcy and Bingley spent their first two days at Netherfield in pursuit of grouse, and their first two evenings in discussion of when they might call at Longbourn.

  “It is yet too soon,” said Bingley. “I must have more time to compose myself, lest I make a fool of myself when I see her again.”

  “Take heart,” said Darcy. “Perhaps you will find her changed, or you will find that your memory of her had embellished her with a beauty she does not actually possess.”

  “Perhaps I will discover that she will not forgive me for leaving her without a word last November?” said Bingley. “She would be within her rights. I recognize now that I treated her in a very ungentlemanly manner.”

  Darcy fell silent. The word ‘ungentlemanly’ forced upon him the memory of the evening in the rectory on which Elizabeth had used it. At Pemberly she seemed not to be repelled by him, but perhaps since then she had come to blame him for the fate of her sister Lydia.

  “You must accompany me, of course,” continued Bingley. “Were I to go alone it would seem as if I came on a mission of some sort. Should I become uneasy in Miss Bennet’s presence, I can always smile at you, and you can introduce a new topic into the conversation.”

  “When have I ever exhibited a gift for such civility?” said Darcy. “No, you must deal with whatever occurs as best you can.”

  “However, I pray you come with me,” said Bingley.

  “I will. I merely suggest that you not rely on me to fill in an awkward silence should one occur.”

  “But why not?” said Bingley. “There is nothing in a call at Longbourn that cause you any uneasiness.”

  Darcy was silent.

  On the third day the two men approached the house for the fateful meeting. Mrs. Bennet and some of her daughters watched their approach from the windows, although they were decorously seated around the sitting room table by the time the men were announced. The women rose and returned the men’s bows. Mrs. Bennet, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room welcomed Bingley at length, mentioning Darcy as an afterthought.

  The weather had been too unexceptional to merit more than a moment’s discussion. Darcy sat through the silence that followed. He could do nothing to relieve the situation while Elizabeth sat so quietly, her eyes cast down.

  “It is a pleasure to see you again,” said Bingley to Elizabeth, “We regretted your sudden departure from Lambton, did we not, Darcy?”

  “Very much so,” said Darcy.

  “And how are your sisters, Mr. Bingley?” said Elizabeth. Darcy felt his heart leap at the sound of her voice.”

  “Very well, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bingley. “They are presently staying in Scarsborough. They especially asked to be remembered to you.”

  “I pray you take back to them my regards,” said Elizabeth. “And Mr. Darcy, how does Miss Georgiana?” For the first time, she looked directly at him.

  “She is very well,” said Darcy. At the sound of his voice Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her work, “and she asked to be remembered to you.” He cast his gaze at Jane Bennet, who plied a needle in silence on some item he could not identify. “And Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, are they well?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Elizabeth. “When I next write I will mention that you asked about them.”

  Despite the warmth of the welcome he had received, Bingley had little to say. Mrs. Bennet relished her obligation to be hospitable. “It has been a long time, Mr. Bingley, since you went away. It was said that you meant to quit the place entirely at Michelmas, which I hope is not true, as do my daughters. Is that not so, Jane?”

  “Yes,” said Jane Bennet.

  “There have been a great many changes since you were last here,” said Mrs. Bennet. Miss Lucas is married and one of my own daughters is also married. You may have read of it in the Times. Did you see it by chance?”

  “I did, Madam, and I congratulate you,” said Bingley.

  Darcy willed himself to add his own congratulations but could not do so. Instead he watched Jane Bennet who had presented her beautiful smile at Bingley’s words. At that moment, whatever awkwardness had existed between her and Bingley disappeared. He addressed her. “I have recently heard that you were in London during much of the winter.”

  “Recently?” said she.

  “Had I been informed at the time, I would certainly have called upon you, but I did not know.”

  “I would have taken pleasure in such a call,” said Miss Bennet.

  Thus the conversation lurched forward, and after a proper interval, the gentlemen took their leave, having promised to dine at Longbourn soon. They rode in silence for some moments. Then Bingley said, “I believe you will agree that I did not embellish Miss Bennet’s beauty.”

  “That is so,” said Darcy, “and I believe she has entirely forgiven you for leaving Netherfield as you did.”

  “Thus despite the changes Mrs. Bennet mentioned, we are almost as we were last November.”

  “You and Miss Bennet may be, but possibly there are changes of which we do not yet have knowledge.”

  They were both deep in thought when their horses arrived at the Netherfield stable.

  Mr. Darcy’s Journal (Netherfield)

  Bingley and I ventured to Longbourn today, where he was heartily welcomed by Mrs. Bennet and I was heartily ignored by her. The four daughters were in attendance, but none seemed inclined to speak any words that were not conventionally proper. Not so the mother, who informed of us her youngest daughter’s marriage as if it were the happiest news possible.

  Bingley was unlike himself in that he was sometimes at a loss for words, and it was ten minutes at the least before he had courage to address the object of our coming to Netherfield. Jane Bennet appeared utterly calm in his presence, but from what I have learnt from Elizabeth, I realize that one should not trust that calm. Unfortunately, I am not entirely sure I can trust Elizabeth’s composure either. She could be hiding either an abiding distaste for me or a willingness to be in my presence.

  Elizabeth herself spoke to me but once and looked at me but once, but none of that was enough for me to understand her feelings. I am not entirely despondent, but not entirely hopeful either.

  Should we find ourselves on amiable terms, I will have the satisfaction of knowing she has come to approve of me because of my improved civility. She knows nothing of the efforts I made to bring about the marriage of Wickham and her sister Lydia.

  We are invited to dine on Tuesday. Mrs. Bennet is known for the number of guests she seats, so I suppose we will find ourselves within a crowd of neighbours. I hope for Bingley’s sake that there be opportunity to speak a few sentences to Miss Bennet. The neighbours will be watching the pair every minute, but even so they might discover each other’s minds.

  For myself, I will watch for an opportunity to speak to Elizabeth, if not at dinner then during the men’s retreat to the drawing room after our port wine and walnuts. Elizabeth and I will be of interest to no one with the other romantic spectacle to be witnessed and whispered about.

  If all goes as I hope, I may ask her to enlighten me as to something I have been thinking about for some time, the cause of Mrs. Bennet’s obvious dislike of me.

  As Darcy expected, Longbourn entertained most of the neighbourhood on Tuesday. Bingley was welcomed by all, and even the famously prideful Mr. Darcy was assured by Sir William Lucas that his presence had been very much missed during the winter months.

  On past occasions Bingley had sat with Jane at table, and the familiarity of the situation led him there this night. Darcy was seated next to Mrs. Bennet, an arrangement disagreeable to both. Darcy looked as often as he dared to the other end of the table where Elizabeth was situated between two officers. She spoke to each in turn with the liveliness that had caught his attention a year earlier. Darcy was ashamed of th
e jealousy he felt when she spoke to either of her companions. Eventually he observed that her eyes were most often on Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley rather than her dinner companions, and by the time the dessert was passed he was in a more reasonable frame of mind.

  The men’s conversation after dinner, something he usually enjoyed, seemed tonight to be lengthy and tedious. He silently willed Mr. Bennet to rise and lead them to the drawing room where the women had congregated. It was some time before that happened, the gentlemen having the new hunting season to discuss at length. Once released he found Elizabeth pouring coffee. She was surrounded by other young woman who chattered with her ceaselessly. Mindful of his plan to appear amiable and civil to all he met, he wandered the room, conversing with this person and that until he could make his way back to Elizabeth. She acknowledged him by asking him about his sister, in exactly the way she had on their earlier meeting in this very room. He answered in the same way, but as he prepared to expand the conversation, a young lady pushed herself into the nearest chair, and the opportunity was lost.

  Soon Mrs. Bennet organized her guests into tables for the playing of whist. Darcy hoped that he and Elizabeth would be seated at the same table, would possibly even be partners, but neither outcome was the result. He was forced to content himself with discrete glances at her at the other table. Once or twice he felt he caught her glancing at him, but it was not a certainty that she had done so. By evening’s end he could only hope Elizabeth had witnessed his changed manners when in company.

  “I find Miss Bennet as agreeable as I ever did,” confided Bingley as the carriage returned them to Netherfield.”

  “Then your course of action is before you,” said Darcy.

  “But I do not know her heart,” cried Bingley. “Suppose she does not—never did—wish to be attached to me. She meets me as if nothing has occurred since we met at the Netherfield ball.”

  “You are uncommonly modest,” said Darcy. “She appears to me to be happy to be in your presence.”

  “But suppose we are both wrong. Suppose I were to make her an offer and she refused me. How could I live with such a humiliation?”