by Jann Rowland
When they had been there for some time, Olivia, who had been silent and watchful for the most part since being introduce, spoke up.
“My mother and father have instructed me to invite you all to dinner at Kingsdown. Would Tuesday next be convenient?”
While she was pleased with the composed way Olivia presented the invitation, Elizabeth quickly noted Miss Bingley’s foul expression, as if some revolting scent had just wafted past her nose.
“Surely we will be engaged that day?” said she. Then she turned to William and fixed him with a coquettish simper. “I am eager to once again be in company with all your charming neighbors, Mr. Darcy. The last time we stayed at Pemberley we met several I liked very well, indeed.”
The woman would fit in well with Misses Campbell and Russell, thought Elizabeth cynically, though Miss Bingley would almost certainly consider Miss Russell to be beneath her. William ignored her, however, and turned a questioning glance on Mr. Bingley.
“I know of no engagements that day. What say you, Bingley?”
“I will be delighted to attend and meet the relations of my wife,” replied the amiable gentleman.
“It is proper, I suppose,” said Miss Bingley, “to greet one’s relations. Perhaps an invitation to Pemberley would be more appropriate? They can then witness the splendor of your estate.”
“On the contrary,” said Mr. Darcy, his tone leading Elizabeth to believe that he was nearing the end of his patience, “we have had the Drummonds to dinner at Pemberley, and our families have grown much closer of late, especially since Miss Bennet came to Derbyshire. We have also dined at Kingsdown.”
The tightness of the woman’s countenance spoke to Miss Bingley’s displeasure, but the glare directed at her by her brother convinced her to be silent. She did not do it with any grace, of course, but Elizabeth did not care to examine her any further. Instead, she was caught by the sight of her sister, watching the interaction around her intently. Jane was as reticent as ever, and she did not display her emotions for all to see, but Elizabeth was certain that Jane was confused. Perhaps she had been told the Darcys would never associate with those beneath them. If so, Miss Bingley did not understand her hosts nearly as well as she thought she did.
“Then it is settled,” said William, granting Olivia a warm smile. “You may tell your parents that we are happy to attend.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, I shall,” replied Olivia.
They stayed in this attitude for some minutes longer before Elizabeth and Olivia rose to leave. Their leaving was not, however, unopposed.
“Can you not stay longer?” asked Georgiana. “I would appreciate your presence, for I so value your company.”
“I apologize, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth, “but today we must leave. We will be happy to return tomorrow and stay as long as you desire.”
“You may not understand this, Eliza, but the proper length of a visit is thirty minutes.”
Elizabeth turned a glare on Miss Bingley. “You may not understand this, Miss Bingley, but where an invitation is given, a visit may be as long or short as the hostess deems appropriate.”
“Besides,” said Georgiana, adding her annoyance to Elizabeth’s, “Lizzy and Olivia are my particular friends. I do not stand on such ceremony as to require them to leave after a mere thirty minutes. In fact, I would be very pleased if they would stay forever.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes widened to be spoken to in such a fashion, but Georgiana turned away, denying her the opportunity to respond. Jane, for her part, looked between Miss Bingley and Georgiana, as if attempting to puzzle out some particularly difficult mystery. Elizabeth decided it was now time to leave to review what had happened and prepare herself for further time in her sister’s company. On the morrow they would, indeed, stay longer.
“We would be happy to return, Georgiana, but today we must leave.”
“Oh, very well,” said Georgiana. She appeared glum and Elizabeth understood her consternation—anyone would be thus afflicted to be stuck with the company of so objectionable a woman, and as Jane was as reticent as Georgiana, the two ladies would have difficulty coming to any kind of understanding of each other.
They said their farewells to the room, and then Elizabeth and Olivia left, accompanied by Georgiana and William. The two younger girls walked on ahead, their heads together as they whispered urgently between them. For a few moments, therefore, Elizabeth was left alone with William.
“Are you well, Elizabeth?” asked he, concern infused in his voice.
“I shall be,” answered Elizabeth, forcing a smile onto her face. “Though Jane still refuses to speak much and it is as difficult as ever to understand her thoughts, I believe I saw enough to give me hope.”
William was silent for a few moments before saying: “I shall trust your judgment. I do not know your sister, so it would be presumptuous of me to suggest I know better than you do.”
A smile—the first in what felt like quite some time—spread over Elizabeth’s face, and she looked up at her fiancé with devotion. “You are so good to me, William. But I will remind you that I do not need protection, especially from indifferent sisters. It will work out between us or it will not. I shall accept it either way.”
“You have a wonderfully positive outlook on life, Elizabeth,” said William.
They arrived at the entrance, and William handed the two young ladies into the carriage, but not until he had kissed Elizabeth’s hand with a reverence which set her heart to fluttering. The carriage lurched into motion and began rolling down the drive to return to Kingsdown, and when Elizabeth turned back, she could see William watching as they wound their way away from Pemberley. Elizabeth could not help but feel that she was leaving her heart behind. Soon, she thought—soon she would not be required to leave at all. She could hardly wait for that day.
As his heart receded in the distance, Darcy watched until he could no longer see the carriage. He never could have fathomed such feelings only a few short months ago, but Elizabeth’s coming had changed everything. He had hope, now—hope he had scarcely allowed himself to feel before. A happy life was waiting for him, and though he knew it was necessary, he was loath to wait much longer.
Though perhaps it might have been proper for him to return to the sitting-room and his guests, the thought of once again being the target of Miss Bingley’s schemes after her horrid behavior toward Elizabeth filled him with revulsion. As a result, he took himself toward the privacy of his study, thinking he could always use the excuse of business to explain his absence. Georgiana was not exactly happy with his subterfuge, but she waved him off, likely knowing he required distance from Miss Bingley, before turning her steps in the direction of her waiting guests.
Unfortunately, Darcy was not able to do any work, not that he had intended to, regardless. The planting was done and the growing season was progressing, and from all the reports from his tenants and steward, everything was proceeding as it ought. Summer was typically a time when there was little which needed to be done, and Darcy had often countered the feeling of ennui by riding his horse or finding a book to read. But thoughts of Miss Bennet rendered such mundane activities impossible.
Furthermore, thoughts of what had just happened in his sitting-room preyed on his mind, leaving him unable to concentrate on anything else. Elizabeth’s words concerning the similarity between his sister and hers had been proven correct, but now that he had seen a little of Mrs. Bingley’s aloofness toward her sister, he could see why she was so troubled, especially if they had previously been close. The distress he could see in his beloved’s countenance ensured that his opinion of Mrs. Bingley remained low.
He did not know what to do. Though he wished to repair everything for her, ensure she never had cause to feel pain and sorrow again, there was nothing he could do. As she said, she would either reconcile with her sister or she would not—she had accepted that, and he would too, though reluctantly.
After Darcy had s
at in this attitude for some time, a soft knock on his door startled him from his reverie. He sat himself at his desk, hoping to appear busy, and called out permission to enter. For a moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake, and if Miss Bingley was on the other side, intent on finally forcing his hand. But the door opened, and Bingley appeared instead.
“I thought you might retreat here,” said the man by way of greeting. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, Bingley,” said Darcy, gesturing his friend toward one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, taking the one next to it himself.
Bingley entered and sat on the indicated chair, but while he did so, he did not say anything, a matter of some interest. Bingley was a splendid fellow and a true friend, but he did not often descend into serious thoughts or introspection. The Bingley before him appeared to be disturbed, indeed.
“I am sorry for my sister’s behavior, my friend,” said he finally. “I have told her several times—including again just before we departed Hertfordshire—that you have no intention of offering for her. I do not doubt you have seen the results of those discussions. She has remained impervious to anything I say to her, and I doubt anything but your marriage will dissuade her.”
“That was very much evident, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “I was, however, surprised by the level of antipathy she seems to possess for your new sister by marriage.”
Bingley grimaced and looked about him, espying a decanter on a side board. “It could be deemed to be too early in the day, but I require a little fortification. Do you mind?”
Darcy waved him to proceed, refusing a portion himself when Bingley asked. After pouring himself two fingers’ widths, Bingley returned to his chair, sipping the amber liquid, distracted by his thoughts.
“It has ever been thus,” said Bingley at length. “Caroline and Elizabeth met at an assembly for the first time, and though Caroline appeared to take to Jane immediately, Elizabeth overheard her making some disparaging remarks and was not shy in letting her know how inappropriate her words were.”
A smile fell over Darcy’s face as he imagined his courageous and outspoken fiancé coming to the defense of her friends and family.
“Of course,” continued Bingley, “Caroline amply displayed her feelings for my wife when she assiduously argued against my offering for her, giving lie to her first overtures of friendship. Since my marriage, however, they have seemed to grow close, for which I suppose I must be grateful, if for no other reason than the promotion of harmony in my home.
“But Caroline and Elizabeth have never worked past that initial dislike, and I suppose I should not be surprised.” Bingley grimaced. “I am not blinded by affection for my sister. I know she is mean, shrewish, arrogant, and entirely too confident in her position in the world. Lizzy, by contrast, is a lovely woman, amiable, open, engaging, loving, and friendly to all. At times, I have wondered why I was cursed with such a woman for a sister instead of a woman like Elizabeth.”
“And your wife?”
Perhaps Darcy should have been a little more circumspect, but he needed to know what Bingley saw in his wife’s behavior. Though she was perfectly proper, and Darcy thought he had enough of her measure to know that she would never descend to such malicious behavior as Miss Bingley, he still felt the responsibility for Elizabeth’s wellbeing, though he was not yet officially engaged to her.
The sour face Bingley made at the question told Darcy much of what he needed to know. “I was initially attracted to Jane Bennet because of her beauty.” He shot a wry smile at Darcy. “I am certain you know enough of my predilections to be unsurprised by such intelligence.
“But it was not long before I came to understand her true worth. She is kind to all, unpretentious, displays a pleasing delicacy which is manifest in a modest comportment and attention to all, and she cannot be induced to think poorly of anyone, even when they deserve it. You know my impetuosity—Jane nicely balances that with her calm rationality. I believe I have become a better man because of it.”
“And yet I have heard something of her behavior to her family,” said Darcy. “That does not reflect well on her, my friend.”
Bingley looked up with surprise. “I never would have imagined you were that well acquainted with Elizabeth.”
“I will explain in a moment, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “First, I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”
Though for a moment Darcy thought his friend would resist, Bingley eventually shook his head. “I do not know what to think. I have tried to induce Jane to speak to me, but she will not. She has only said that she requires time to settle into her new position. I do not think she has changed enough to hold her family in contempt, but I have no explanation for her continued aloofness.” Bingley paused and colored. “Certain characters in her family are a little . . . rough around the edges, if you take my meaning. But there is not a mean-spirited one among them. I know they have been hurt by Jane’s distance—Lizzy most of all. She is polite and civil, but the detachment is striking. She has not even visited Longbourn—her family estate—since Elizabeth came away to Derbyshire.”
“And yet in all other ways she is the same woman you married?”
“She is,” said Bingley slowly. “She is as gentle and pleasant as she ever was. I have begun to notice a certain . . . strain about her recently, however, that I had not noticed before. With me she is as she ever was, but I almost wonder if she was dreading this visit.”
It was then Darcy decided his friend deserved to know all. They were to stay here for some time and had not come to any conclusions about why Mrs. Bingley was behaving the way she was. Bingley needed to be forewarned, not only due to his wife’s behavior, but also because of his sister’s. Though Darcy could look on the prospect of Miss Bingley’s reaction to the news of his engagement with a certain level of savage glee, the woman’s sure knowledge of his engagement would no doubt lead to difficulties, and Bingley would need to know it to attempt to control her.
“There is a matter of which I believe I should inform you, Bingley. It is one that may affect your wife’s relationship with her sister even more and will certain cause your sister misery.”
“Oh?” asked Bingley. “Have you ruined Caroline’s hopes of happiness and become engaged?”
It was typical of Bingley to miss the first part of Darcy’s statement and focus on the second. When Darcy only looked at him, Bingley sat up straighter.
“You have!”
“I have,” replied Darcy. “In fact, I am now engaged to the woman your sister apparently despises.”
“Elizabeth?” asked Bingley, befuddled.
“Yes. It is not official yet because I have not spoken with Mr. Bennet, but I have asked, she has accepted, and her uncle has given his conditional approval in her father’s stead.”
A beaming smile of utter delight came over Bingley’s countenance and he surged from his chair and caught Darcy, who had stood in response, in a jubilant embrace.
“Well done, Darcy! Well done, indeed! You know, I had considered the possibility that she would do well for you last autumn when I met her, so I am feeling unusually perspicacious. She is a beautiful girl! I know you shall be very happy with her!”
“Thank you, Bingley,” said Darcy. “She is everything I ever hoped to find in a wife. I cannot wait to join you in your happy state.”
The final words Darcy spoke seemed to remind Bingley of his own state with his wife. He sank back into his previous chair, though all traces of his distraction were absent.
“You have not announced your engagement yet.”
“We have not,” replied Darcy. “I mean to seek Mr. Bennet’s approval when Elizabeth returns home.”
“As I recall, she has recently turned one and twenty. You do not need her father’s approval.”
“That is correct,” replied Darcy. “But I wish for it all the same. Elizabeth’s relationship with her father is so profound that I would ne
ver consider anything else.”
Bingley paused, his manner troubled. “Does she mean to inform Jane?”
This was the crux of the matter, and the most likely to offend Bingley, if he was of mind to be offended. “I do not know for certain, but I expect not, at least at present.”
Bingley winced. “Last autumn, such an unshared confidence would be unfathomable. I have it on good authority that Elizabeth was the first person Jane told of her engagement to me, even before I approached her father.”
“You will excuse me for saying it, but this distance is entirely due to Mrs. Bingley’s actions.”
“I know,” said Bingley, resting his head in one hand while the other he raised to Darcy in a gesture of surrender.
Darcy paused, not knowing whether he should say so, but Bingley’s continued troubled countenance informed him that it was best to ensure the entirety of the matter was understood.
“It has been suggested that your wife has changed because she now considers her family beneath her due to her marriage. If that is the case, Elizabeth’s marriage to me might induce her to rethink that distance.”
Surprised, Bingley gaped at Darcy for several moments. Then he shook his head and said: “No, I cannot believe it.”
“But you acknowledge it is a fair assessment.”
“If Jane’s reserve is as you suggest, then yes. But I cannot believe that of her, and to be honest, I am surprised Elizabeth does as well.”
“I do not believe she does,” replied Darcy quietly. “But she has been hurt terribly and does not know what to think. You cannot blame her.”
“I cannot,” conceded Bingley. “But I do not believe it of Jane. There may be reasons to distance herself from the rest of the family, but never from Elizabeth. I cannot believe she would throw off her family because she has married me. I am certain there is something else at work.”
“That may be the case, Bingley. But until Elizabeth feels she can trust Jane again, I would ask you to keep this confidence.”