Darcy and the Wrong Miss Bennet
Page 2
With poor grace, Miss Bingley accompanied her upstairs to Jane’s bedroom.
Jane lay in a large four poster bed. Her face was pale; her eyes and nose were red. She smiled weakly but was too ill to talk a great deal. Miss Bingley left them together, promising to return later after breakfast finished.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane said between bouts of coughing once they were alone. “I am so glad you came.”
Jane sounded like a croaking frog. Elizabeth took her hand. “Shh,” she said. “Do not tax yourself.”
“I am so embarrassed,” Jane said quietly.
“Why?”
Jane blew her nose. “I am sick.”
“Yes, dear, but it is not your fault.” If anyone’s fault, it was their mother’s for making Jane ride a horse when it was going to rain, but there was no point in assigning blame. “The important thing is for you to get well.”
Jane nodded.
Mr. Jones, the apothecary, came and pronounced that Jane had a violent cold. He advised that she stay in bed and promised to get her some draughts.
Miss Bingley and her sister came to visit, but Elizabeth could tell that they were bored with Jane’s illness, and they did not want to get too close.
When it was three p.m., Elizabeth thought she should return to Longbourn, and Miss Bingley offered to send her home in a carriage, but Jane seemed so distraught to lose her, that Miss Bingley was obliged to invite Elizabeth to stay as well.
Elizabeth readily agreed, and the chaise was sent to Longbourn to inform her parents of her stay and to fetch a supply of clothes for her and Jane.
WHEN DARCY AND BINGLEY returned to the house, Darcy was surprised to learn that Elizabeth Bennet would be staying at Netherfield for several days while Jane recovered.
“Is that necessary?” he asked. From what he’d heard earlier, Miss Bennet was ill but not in any particular danger.
“Necessary or not, it is done,” Miss Bingley said irritably. “Miss Elizabeth will be joining us for dinner.”
“I am glad that Miss Bennet has her sister to cheer her,” Bingley said. “Thank you, Caroline, for taking care of that.”
“And with Miss Elizabeth there, we will not be needed as often in the sickroom,” Mrs. Hurst said helpfully.
“I suppose that is one benefit,” Miss Bingley said. She saw Darcy’s look of disapproval and quickly amended, “I have too tender a heart to tend to others when they are ill. It pains me so.”
Darcy did not comment. In the past few days, it had occurred to him that Miss Bingley, like many other London ladies of his acquaintance, wanted to marry him. He knew she cared more for his income of ten thousand pounds a year, than for his actual person, but he had no intention of encouraging her.
He would marry the woman he desired when he desired, and Caroline Bingley would never be that woman.
And if her continual flirtatious attempts to secure his interest became too obnoxious, he would leave Hertfordshire.
Charles Bingley was his good friend, but he did not want him as a brother-in-law.
Dinner was at half past six. Darcy noticed that Elizabeth Bennet was dressed more simply than either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst. She answered a few questions about her sister’s health, ate quickly, and excused herself when the meal was over to return to her sister.
As soon as she had left the room, Miss Bingley said, “I suppose if we wanted to have a better conversation, we should have invited her twin. Miss Lydia has much more to say.”
Too much to say, in Darcy’s opinion. He had noticed that Miss Lydia was often loud and boisterous.
Bingley said, “I didn’t think Miss Elizabeth was too quiet. No doubt she was thinking of her sister and not in the mood for much conversation.”
“She should have made a greater effort to be cordial,” Miss Bingley said. “I find her manners to be very bad. She has no conversation, no style, no taste, no beauty.”
Mrs. Hurst agreed.
Darcy thought that Miss Bingley was the one with bad manners.
The two sisters went on to disparage Elizabeth for walking all the way to Netherfield. They criticized her blowsy hair and her muddy petticoats.
Bingley rose to her defence, saying, “I thought Miss Bennet looked remarkably well this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
Darcy looked at his friend closely with suspicion. Had Bingley decided that he liked Miss Elizabeth as well as her sister? If so, that would be a problem.
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth sat with Jane, making certain she sat up and drank some tea and broth. Eventually Jane slept, and Elizabeth debated whether she should return downstairs or merely go to her own bedroom. She decided that politeness required her to at least make an appearance, so she returned to the drawing room. As she neared, she overheard bits of conversation.
Miss Bingley said, “Their uncle is an attorney in Meryton.”
They were talking about her and Jane. Elizabeth hesitated and stood outside the door, wondering what else they might say.
“And they have another who lives in Cheapside.”
“Cheapside!” Miss Bingley repeated. “How appropriate.” Both she and Mrs. Hurst laughed.
Bingley said, “If they had uncles enough to fill all Cheapside, it would not make them one jot less agreeable!”
Darcy said, “Yes, but it does lessen their chance of marrying men of any consequence.”
Elizabeth felt of the sting of that statement. As much as she did not like Mr. Darcy, she had to admit the truth of his words. Her father was a gentleman, but he had married a woman with trade connections. Some men would not want that connection. And some men would want wives with larger dowries.
As far as Elizabeth could see, the only benefit of having a small dowry was that she and her sisters had little chance of being pursued by fortune hunters.
For a moment, she considered retreating upstairs to her room, but then as bad luck would have it, Bingley got up to poke at the fire, and he saw her standing in the hallway.
“Miss Bennet,” he said pleasantly. “How good to see you again. Is your sister better?”
“She is not,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “But she is sleeping.”
“That is good. My nanny always said that sleep was the best doctor.”
Elizabeth smiled. She could not help but like a man who appreciated his nanny. As she entered the room, she saw that the entire party was seated at a table playing silver loo. “Would you care to join us?” Miss Bingley asked.
“No, thank you,” Elizabeth said. “I will find something to read instead.” She walked over to a side table that had several books upon it.
Mr. Hurst said, “Do you prefer reading to cards? How singular.”
Darcy said, “How so? I prefer reading to cards.” He glanced at Elizabeth as if to see her reaction.
Miss Bingley set her cards face down on the table. “So do I.”
Mr. Hurst protested. “At least finish the hand.”
For a few more minutes they played and then disbanded. Darcy walked over to Elizabeth and asked her the title of the book she was reading. She said, “Amelia.”
“Yes. By Fielding. Do you like it?”
“I haven’t read it, although my father likes Fielding.”
“He’s an acquired taste,” Darcy said.
Miss Bingley, walking by said, “Fielding? Where did we get that? He’s very vulgar, isn’t he? I’m surprised at your choice, Miss Eliza.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It is just a novel.”
“But I think one should be very careful of what one reads. Don’t you agree, Mr. Darcy?”
“I think Miss Bennet can decide what she wants to read.”
Miss Bingley was not happy with his answer. “Charles?” she demanded. “Where did all these books come from?”
Bingley said that some came with the house but that if she did not approve of one, he would be happy to remove it.
Elizabeth set the offensive novel aside and said, “It
does not matter.”
Miss Bingley suggested that Mrs. Hurst play the pianoforte. She did and she was followed by Miss Bingley.
Mr. Bingley said to Elizabeth, “I believe you play, too?”
“A little,” she admitted. “But not as well as your sisters.”
Darcy said bluntly, “I would enjoy hearing you play.”
She looked at him, surprised. “Truly?” She and her sister Mary had played the pianoforte at Sir William Lucas’ home a few days before, but she thought Darcy had looked pained at the time.
“Yes. You have a lightness and spontaneity to your performance which is charming.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Is that a polite way of saying that I make many errors?”
“No,” he assured her. “I try to always say what I mean.”
“Which sometimes is not polite,” Bingley said in a teasing tone.
Darcy said stiffly, “I hope I am always civil.”
Elizabeth looked at the two men who were so different in manners – Bingley was all ease and Darcy was more reserved, and yet they appeared to be good friends. She said to them both, “I think society requires some balance between truth and tact. Imagine what trouble there would be if we all said exactly what we think of each other.”
Darcy said, “That is why it is best sometimes to say nothing at all.”
Was that his justification for his boorish behaviour? Elizabeth was startled to consider his actions in a different light.
Darcy continued. “I have heard it said that discretion is the perfection of reason and a guide to us in all duties of life.”
“Nicely put,” Bingley said, and Elizabeth found that she agreed.
She said, “The difficulty, I suppose, lies in determining what to say and when to say it.”
Darcy nodded. “I agree. I do not know which is worse – the regret of saying something I wish I could take back or the regret of not saying something I should have said.”
Elizabeth was surprised that he would admit to having any regrets at all. Perhaps her perception of him as a proud man was flawed. She said, “Surely the latter is not as bad, for if one has not spoken, one can make amends by speaking out.”
Darcy said, “Not always. As Brutus said, there is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.”
Elizabeth was impressed by Mr. Darcy’s education. She had read Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, but she could not quote it. She said, “You consider conversations to be like tides?”
“Yes, for they often take us on adventures that we did not anticipate.”
Like the present one. Elizabeth smiled at him. “And can leave us crashed on the rocks.”
“Indeed.”
Bingley said, “I like Shakespeare’s plays, but I never understood Brutus. He talks on and on, trying to decide if he should kill his friend.”
For a moment, Elizabeth was annoyed that Bingley spoke when she wanted to hear more from Mr. Darcy, but she told herself not to be ridiculous. She said, “Would you have killed Caesar?”
“No, I would have tried to talk with him, to make him see reason.”
Darcy said, “History would be very different if more men were like you, Bingley.”
Elizabeth sensed from Darcy’s tone that he was both amused by Bingley’s naivete and sincere in his admiration. Elizabeth said, “Definitely less war.”
Miss Bingley finished playing her music piece and joined them. “I hope you’re not talking about Napoleon,” she said as she approached. “I hate the man and wish he would stay in France and leave the rest of the world alone.”
Mr. Darcy said, “No, we were discussing Julius Caesar.”
Miss Bingley laughed. “That is worse. I can never remember all those Greeks.”
None of them corrected her, thereby proving that they could all be discrete. However, Darcy did look briefly at Elizabeth with amusement in his eyes. She looked down at her hands, trying not to smile.
Having killed the conversation with her interruption, Miss Bingley tried to engage Mr. Darcy in other topics, but he again was quiet, saying little, and the evening soon ended with all of them retiring to their rooms.
AT BREAKFAST THE FOLLOWING morning, Darcy learned that Miss Elizabeth had passed the greater part of the night in her sister’s room, and that Jane was still feeling poorly. Mr. Jones had been sent for. Darcy ate his breakfast in silence, missing Elizabeth’s presence.
Miss Bingley tried to entertain him with talk of their mutual friends in Town, but she was interrupted by Mrs. Bennet’s arrival. She had come with two of her daughters to see the invalid.
Bingley was concerned, thinking that Mrs. Bennet’s presence indicated her fear that Jane Bennet was truly ill, possibly in danger, but Darcy was not worried. He knew that Mrs. Bennet merely wanted to see the inside of Bingley’s house. His suspicions were confirmed when Mrs. Bennet returned from the sickroom after only a few minutes’ visit. She sat down in the morning parlour, happy to converse.
Darcy was not pleased to see her, but he was pleased to see Elizabeth who had joined her mother. When Elizabeth sat on a couch, her twin sat right beside her. The physical similarity was astonishing, but today they were dressed differently, and he noticed that Elizabeth’s hair was not as neatly arranged as her twin sister’s. She also looked tired and he hoped that she was not coming down with a cold like Jane.
Bingley said to Mrs. Bennet, “I hope you did not find Jane worse than you expected.”
“Indeed, I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”
Darcy thought that Mrs. Bennet would be happy to have her oldest daughter remain at Netherfield as long as possible.
“Removed!” Bingley cried. “No, indeed. It must not be thought of.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled, satisfied with his response.
Miss Bingley said coolly, “You may depend upon it, Madam. Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”
Darcy thought it likely that Miss Bingley was counting the hours until the Misses Bennets could be evicted.
He glanced briefly at Elizabeth to see her reaction, but she was watching her mother instead and did not catch his eye.
The voluble Mrs. Bennet talked, rattling on, thanking Bingley for his kindness, praising Jane for her sweet temperament, and then complimenting him on his home.
Bingley’s response was gracious, and the conversation shifted to comparisons between the country and Town, with Mrs. Bennet asserting that she found the country to be best.
Elizabeth seemed embarrassed by some of her mother’s enthusiasm, but she said little.
Their visit came to a close with Lydia saying, “Mr. Bingley, do you remember promising to give a ball? It would be the most shameful thing in the world if you do not keep your promise.”
Bingley was not offended by her presumption. Instead he said, “I am ready to name the day as soon as your sister is well again.”
Lydia seemed as pleased as her mother with his reply, and the Bennets soon departed, leaving Elizabeth behind. When Elizabeth excused herself and went back upstairs to take care of Jane, Darcy felt oddly bereft.
As soon as Elizabeth was out of the room, Miss Bingley said irritably, “A ball? Whatever are you thinking, Charles?”
Bingley shrugged. “I like dancing. Why shouldn’t I give a ball?”
“Not everyone feels the same as you. Some of us might consider a ball with such company to be a punishment rather than a pleasure.” She looked pointedly at Darcy.
Bingley said, “If Darcy doesn’t want to attend, he can go to bed before it begins.”
Darcy smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of going to bed. I will attend your ball.” And I will dance with Elizabeth Bennet, he thought but had the wisdom not to say it.
CHAPTER FOUR
She found it, eventually, after some help from a liveried footman. Once inside, she idly looked through the shelves, seeking a familiar book or something interesting.
She chose a book of poetry, but she did not read it immediately. Instead, she walked over to floor to ceiling windows that looked out upon Netherfield’s gardens. The scene was so peaceful and beautiful that she sighed.
“Is something wrong?”
Elizabeth startled, surprised to see Mr. Darcy beside her. She had thought she was alone in the room.
“No, nothing is wrong. I was merely admiring the view.”
Darcy glanced briefly out the window. “It is pretty.”
“But not as fine as Pemberley?” Elizabeth suggested.
“That is for others to decide, surely,” Mr. Darcy said. “But I do prefer my home to all others.”
“That is as it should be. Your home should be your castle.”
“Pemberley is not a castle,” he said simply.
She wondered for a moment if he had misunderstood her analogy or if he was making a joke.
She said, “No moat?”
“Not as yet.”
She smiled. He had been making a joke. She said, “According to Miss Bingley, Pemberley is perfection.”
“Miss Bingley is excessive in her praise.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I have noticed that.”
“What else have you noticed; I wonder?”
Elizabeth looked at him closely. She had noticed that Miss Bingley wanted Darcy’s approval. She raised one inquiring eyebrow. “Are you asking me to gossip about our host?”
“No, not at all. I merely wish to know what you were thinking when you were lost in thought just now.”
Elizabeth said, “I was thinking that I envy Mr. Bingley. If I were he, I would never want to leave Netherfield.”