His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel

by Nancy Kelley

  "It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion," she said as she passed behind him, "to be secure of judging properly at first."

  Darcy took her hand and led her up the dance. "May I ask to what these questions tend?" he inquired, with more of a clip in his voice than he usually used when addressing her.

  "Merely to the illustration of your character. I am trying to make it out." She smiled, but he was not fooled. Something bothered her.

  "And what is your success?"

  She shook her head, and though the gesture was playful, there was an edge to her voice. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as to puzzle me exceedingly."

  Darcy's quick mind easily pieced the conversation together. Wickham! Why is it that he always manages to appear the injured party in our disputes, and what devilry is it that would lead him to entice the very young lady I...

  Darcy could not finish the sentence, even in his mind. There was a longing deep in his breast that he could not understand, one that wished her to know and believe only the best of him. "I can readily believe that report may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

  He had a vague thought as he spoke the words that he might find a way to meet her privately on the following morning and explain the truth of the matter, and her next words displeased him exceedingly. "But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."

  In all their short acquaintance, Darcy had never known her to be so disobliging. However, he would not beg. "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."

  An uneasy silence hung between them for the rest of the dance. For his part, Darcy was equally dissatisfied with the distance between them as he was with the subject of George Wickham, and on that count he quickly absolved her.

  He felt how unequal he was to further conversation, and after he returned his partner to her friends, he withdrew from the ballroom to Bingley's study. His friend kept a particularly fine brandy there, and Darcy poured himself a measure. The cool glass in his hand calmed his thoughts. "Once again Wickham has insinuated himself with a young lady I value. Am I never to be free of his presence?"

  He took a sip of brandy and paced the semi-dark room. "But Elizabeth is wise and insightful. She will see Wickham's true nature before long."

  Hearing the words did more to ease his mind than anything else, and he knew he should return to the ball. He did not much relish the thought, but his sense of duty was too strong to allow him to remain hidden away for the rest of the evening. He looked regretfully about the quiet room, finished his brandy, and stepped back into the hallway.

  His thoughts took a decidedly more cheerful turn on the way back, for the faint strains of music called to mind his dance with Elizabeth. His heart raced when he thought of her loveliness, so near and so vibrant, and his steps quickened to carry him back to her.

  Unfortunately, instead of finding Elizabeth, he was approached by the same awkward young man he had seen dancing with her earlier. The gentleman had won no warm feelings from him at that time, and he did not improve upon acquaintance. Without even the courtesy of an introduction, he walked right up to him and bowed, as if they were equals. "I must beg your apology," he said, his tone most solemn, "for the duty I have neglected. I am Mr. Collins, the rector at Hunsford parish, near Rosings Park. Your noble aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is my patroness."

  The connection explained much about the air of servility that surrounded the man. His aunt surrounded herself with people who bowed and scraped with an obsequiousness that Darcy found disgusting. "I am sure my aunt could not have the discernment to bestow that favor without merit, sir," he said, hoping his cold tone would discourage further familiarity.

  But Mr. Collins bowed again, lower this time if it were possible. "It is with great pleasure that I can tell you Lady Catherine and her daughter were doing quite well on the Sunday sennight past. Indeed, I had the honor of filling out a table for quadrille just that previous Saturday, and found her ladyship to be in fine health and spirits both."

  Darcy eyed the man with a barely hidden repugnance when he finished speaking. This time, he gave the briefest of bows and then turned away. Thankfully, Mr. Collins did not follow.

  Shortly after this unwelcome intrusion, the guests were called to sit down to dinner. Darcy gladly took a seat that was directly across the table from Elizabeth, unaware that her mother sat beside her. That woman started talking when the first course was brought out and she continued until the meal ended, the feather on her head bobbing in time to the movements of her mouth.

  "Oh! My dear Lady Lucas, do you not think Jane looks very well tonight? There is a certain glow about her this evening, would you not agree?" Lady Lucas barely had time to voice her assent before Mrs. Bennet continued. "I am glad, for perhaps seeing her at her finest will spur Mr. Bingley on. I do expect some kind of arrangement to be made very soon, and would it not be lovely if he were to use the opportunity of a ball--such a romantic occasion--to ask for her hand?"

  Lady Lucas's smile was as strained as Darcy's was. To hear Bingley's name bantered around in this manner insulted his friend and disturbed Darcy. Thankfully, Bingley's sisters are not in earshot, he thought. Caroline sat at the far end of the table in the hostess's seat, and he shuddered to think how she would react to such presumption.

  Darcy, however, could not avoid Mrs. Bennet's pronouncements. "Mr. Bingley is such a charming man, I am sure Mr. Bennet will agree that we could not get a finer son-in-law--nor a richer one, to be sure."

  The impropriety of this comment nearly shocked Darcy into speech. His gut clenched; his own experience with a fortune hunter was still fresh enough to make him deeply feel Bingley's peril.

  Only the sight of Elizabeth's mortification induced him to hold his tongue. I must not lay the sins of the parent entirely on the feet of her children, he reminded himself. Just because Mrs. Bennet is mercenary does not mean her daughter does not have a strong affection for Bingley.

  Mrs. Bennet now prattled on about the solicitude Miss Bennet received from Bingley's sisters, and Darcy looked down the table to where they all sat. Miss Bingley was talking to her, to be sure, but he could tell her smile was artificial from twenty feet away. There was no questioning what the woman thought about having such a country nobody for a sister-in-law. She may like Jane Bennet very well as a friend, but as a member of the family was a different question altogether.

  Mrs. Bennet's shrill voice drew his attention away from her daughter. "Oh! And how nice it will be for my other girls, if Jane marries Mr. Bingley!"

  "Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Bennet?" Lady Lucas inquired, echoing Darcy's own question.

  "Why my dear Lady Lucas, I mean, of course, that this must throw them in the path of other rich men! Just think what fine gentleman Kitty and Lydia might meet, if they spend time with Jane and Mr. Bingley."

  Darcy almost choked on his wine. Thinking of those two girls being thrown into London society was not to be borne. They were the silliest pieces of farididdle he had ever had the misfortune to come across, and though any man who married them would richly deserve what he got, Darcy would not wish either of them on his worst enemy.

  Mrs. Bennet placed a hand on her friend's arm and leaned in slightly. The gesture of secrecy was meaningless, for her voice still carried across the room. "Of course, it will be nice for Mr. Bennet and myself as well. We are getting far too old to go out in the evenings, and if Jane married, she could chaperone the rest of the girls at the parties. I do wish you might have a daughter settled half so well."

  Elizabeth whispered something in Mrs. Bennet's ear, and Darcy guessed she urged her mother to lower her own voice. Mrs. Bennet, however, said, in her same voluble tone, "What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as
to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear."

  Darcy pulled back in surprise when he heard his own name, and from the look on her face, he knew Miss Elizabeth had not mentioned it. Her teeth clenched, she spoke again. "For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower--what advantage can it be to you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing."

  That Elizabeth shared her mother's hopes for Bingley and Miss Bennet was clear, and it was the only thing that might have convinced Darcy to give his approval of the match. Of all the Bennets, her opinion and judgment alone did he value.

  Her endorsement of the match also led to a new consideration. Is it possible Miss Bennet truly cares for Bingley? This thought gave Darcy an occupation for his mind; rather than listening to Mrs. Bennet, he focused his attention on Bingley and Miss Bennet, trying to ascertain any symptoms of affection on the side of the latter.

  When the meal ended, the entertainment began. Miss Bingley had scarcely said, "I wonder if any of the young ladies would like to entertain us with a song?" when Miss Mary Bennet rose from her seat at the table and approached the pianoforte with a haste that showed an indecorous eagerness. Darcy watched her prepare her music with little expectation of pleasure. He well remembered the last time he had heard the young lady play, and he did not imagine her style had much improved since that time.

  Indeed, it had not. When it began, her playing was as forced and stilted as it had been some weeks earlier. He saw on the faces of his companions the same discomfort, and they all wished the song to end.

  But when her song ended, some of the audience took the polite applause to the next level. "How delightful, Miss Mary. Perhaps you might be able to play for us again."

  Darcy had only known the young lady for a few short months, but that was enough time for him to know what she would do with such encouragement. Rather than get up and let another young lady have a turn, she smiled primly and turned the pages of her music to another song. Across the table, Elizabeth blushed, and he could only guess at her mortification. She glanced down the table, and when he followed her gaze, he saw Jane Bennet calmly speaking with Bingley.

  That sight convinced him of one thing: It would not be easy to move Jane Bennet to heights of emotion. If she could not feel even a little self-conscious at the spectacle her sisters were making of themselves--for the two younger sisters pointed at Miss Mary and openly laughed at her--then how was anyone to know if she had fallen in love? He watched her closely for some time and saw that although she smiled freely at Bingley, there did not seem to be any additional warmth or spark in her expression that would lead one to believe she felt anything deeper than admiration.

  Miss Mary abused the pianoforte for another minute, and Elizabeth caught her father's eye and indicated he should for once take control of his family. Though Darcy agreed that Mr. Bennet should not allow his middle daughter to bring any more of Society's disdain on his family, he doubted the gentleman's ability to subtly handle the situation.

  All of Darcy's prejudices against Mr. Bennet were confirmed a moment later. When Miss Mary's second song ended, he rose from his seat and said, "That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."

  Though he cared little for the young lady in question, Darcy felt the full weight of her humiliation, as he was sure Elizabeth did. Miss Mary flushed a little and fumbled with her music when she stood. Minutes before Darcy had scorned her; now she had his sympathy. Mr. Bennet, however... He allows his family to make an exhibition of themselves for his own amusement.

  Mr. Collins, whose relationship with the Bennet family Darcy had still not managed to figure out, spoke now. "If I were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman."

  This bit of exposition was odd enough, but the man did not stop there. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced a little alongside the tables. He expounded at length on the duties of a clergyman, from the writing of sermons to the collection of tithes, and when that was finished, he turned toward Darcy.

  "And I do not think it of light importance that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards everybody, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards anybody connected with the family."

  Darcy watched in abject horror as the absurd man bowed to him before seating himself again. Mr. Collins had impressed Darcy earlier as one who dearly loved the sound of his own voice. His speech was filled with panegyrics, and though he had constantly spoken of those better than him, it was clear he believed himself to be quite good enough for the current society, and better than most.

  Darcy could not avoid hearing Mrs. Bennet whisper, "I do think Mr. Collins is a remarkably clever, good kind of young man, do you not, Lady Lucas?" Her companion did not offer a reply, none clearly being needed, and the obvious answer not being what she would expect to hear.

  At long last, the ball came to a close. The evening had brought Darcy nothing but greater pain, and he greatly desired its end. He had watched for another forty-five minutes as Bingley made evident the depths of his affection for Miss Bennet, and Mr. Collins showed himself to be even more ridiculous than he had thought possible.

  The latter brought him no pleasure, for he made a fool of himself at the expense of his cousin Elizabeth, whose side he barely left for the whole of the rest of the evening. Darcy did not enjoy watching the two of them together, regardless of how little the lady clearly appreciated his company.

  A sudden thought occurred to Darcy as he observed them. By all ordinary standards, Mr. Collins would be viewed as a good match for Elizabeth. His chest tightened and he had to step out of the ballroom to take a quick breath of fresh air. What can it matter to me who she marries? Have I not already decided...

  Darcy leaned against the wall in the darkened corridor. He had already made his decision. He had no business questioning Elizabeth's choice of partner in her future life.

  Still, the possibility that she might marry such an unworthy man ruined the last bit of enjoyment he might have found in the ball, and when the evening finally came to a close, he rejoiced.

  When at last the guests began to leave, Darcy thought he would have his peace in short order. He had not reckoned with Mrs. Bennet. By some trick, she managed to have their party be the last to leave, and even then to extend their visit by the period of another fifteen minutes. Darcy did not know how she had contrived to have their carriage take so long in coming, but he did not doubt it was her handiwork.

  Earlier in the evening, Darcy would have been embarrassed by the behavior of Bingley's two sisters. They yawned prodigiously, and every sentence they spoke was an issuance of exhaustion and of how glad they would be to get to sleep after such an evening. He knew their behavior was excessively rude, but he could not bring himself to disagree with them. Mrs. Bennet had taxed him to the extreme; he could not even be prevailed upon to intercede for the sake of Elizabeth, who did not deserve such treatment.

  Finally, they were gone. The Netherfield Park party watched them drive away and then closed the doors. "I believe I must be to bed," Bingley announced. "It has been a long day--though you would have been good to not mention it in front of our guests, Caroline--and I have an early morning and a ride to London in front of me. Good night Caroline, Louisa, Darcy."

  Darcy sketched his own bow to the ladies. "I am afraid I too must retire. Good night, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. Thank you for hosting a delightful evening."

  "I do believe it might have been more delightful if there had been fewer Bennets present," Miss Bingley muttered as they climbed the stairs.

  Chapter Twelve

  Every time Darcy closed his eyes, some member of the Bennet family invaded
his thoughts. Mrs. Bennet's presumptuous chatter, the improprieties of the three younger daughters, and Mr. Bennet's amused indolence--they all played across his mind in vivid detail. Is this what my friend is to marry into?

  He finally drifted off near dawn, but his dreams were no less troubling. Bingley, dressed in his finest morning coat, stood in front of the Longbourn church. Darcy stood by his side. The door opened, and all but the eldest of the Miss Bennets trailed up the aisle, Elizabeth last of all. She held Darcy's gaze for half a second, and the question he saw there smote him.

  The organ struck a chord, and another figure appeared at the back of the church. Jane Bennet, radiant in bridal white, held her father's arm. Darcy watched her proceed down the aisle, a protest building in his throat. "No! This cannot be," he longed to declare, but loyalty to his friend held his tongue. He could not, in front of all these people... Why did I not speak before?

  Darcy woke with a start. The first fingers of weak sunlight lightened the room through the curtains, and he swung his legs out of bed. The cold stones under his feet sped him through his morning routine, and he was dressed in under ten minutes.