Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites

by Linda Berdoll

  To think I once dismissed them without even knowing them, and rejected Elizabeth because her relations did not fit my notion of what they should be! Had I turned such a critical eye on my own relatives I might have realized that she was not alone in having undesirable connections. Lady Catherine, for all her elegance, disgraced herself by suggesting that Elizabeth – her guest! – should practise the piano in the housekeeper’s room, something I am persuaded Mrs Gardiner would never do. And Bingley’s relations are hardly any better. Caroline Bingley might be a woman of breeding and fashion, but she is also a woman who is eaten up by jealousy and spite.

  Wednesday 3rd September

  I returned to Pemberley to find that Caroline and Louisa were full of plans to visit Scarborough.

  ‘Do come with us, Mr Darcy,’ said Caroline. ‘Scarborough is so invigorating at this time of year.’

  ‘I have too much to do on my estate,’ I said.

  ‘But it would be so good for Georgiana. I do believe she has not seen the sea since last summer, when she stayed in Ramsgate. She must be pining for it.’ She turned to Georgiana. ‘Would you not like to see it again?’

  Georgiana blushed, and said she had no desire to do so. Caroline turned to me.

  ‘You would return to Pemberley refreshed, and manage twice as much work as if you had never gone,’ she said.

  ‘My intentions are fixed. But you must go,’ I said as she opened her mouth to change her mind. ‘The sea air will do you good.’

  ‘Sea air,’ said Mr Hurst, then retreated into his stupor.

  Thursday 4th September

  Caroline, Louisa and Mr Hurst departed for Scarborough. They tried to persuade Bingley to go with them, but he said he had no wish to be blown about and would remain at Pemberley. Caroline encouraged the idea. She still believes he will marry Georgiana, and wants him to see her more often, though it is obvious to an impartial eye that he never will.

  Monday 8th September

  ‘I think I will go to Netherfield again,’ said Bingley nonchalantly as we rode out this morning.

  ‘A good idea. If you mean to keep the house, you should use it from time to time.’

  ‘That is exactly what I think. Will you come with me? I should like to repay your hospitality.’

  My spirits rose. If I went to Netherfield, then I would have an opportunity of seeing Elizabeth again.

  ‘When do you intend to go?’ I asked.

  ‘In about a week. I thought I would send the servants tomorrow, to ready the house.’

  ‘Yes, I will come.’

  He looked pleased.

  ‘It is almost a year to the day that I took it. I little thought then…’

  His voice trailed away, and it was not difficult to guess what direction his thoughts had taken. I said no more, but let him lose himself in day-dreams. Perhaps they will become reality before very long. And my dreams…what of them?

  Wednesday 17th September

  We arrived at Netherfield this afternoon. Bingley declared his intention of riding into Meryton as soon as we arrived, and it was only the onset of rain that made him put his visit off.

  Thursday 18th September

  Sir William Lucas called this morning, to welcome us back to the neighbourhood.

  ‘Mr Bingley,’ he said with a low bow, ‘you do us too much honour in returning to our humble neighbourhood. We thought we had not joys enough to hold you and yet here you are, fresh from your triumphs in town, to honour our humble village with your presence. Mr Darcy,’ he said, with a low bow to me. ‘It seems but a moment since we were all taking tea with Lady Catherine in the delightful dining-parlour at Rosings Park. You enjoyed your stay, I trust?’

  Enjoyed it? That was hardly the way I would have described my feelings during those turbulent few weeks, but he took my silence to mean that I had.

  ‘Have you visited your estimable aunt since that time?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said shortly.

  ‘I hope to visit my daughter again before very long,’ he said.

  He embarked on a rambling speech, extolling the virtues of his daughter’s position. How long he would have gone on if Mr Long had not called I do not know!

  When our guests had left, Bingley said: ‘It was after Sir William called last year that Mr Bennet called on us. Do you suppose he will do so again?’

  I thought of Mr Bennet’s indolent habits and hesitated.

  ‘Perhaps I could call on the Bennets even without this civility,’ suggested Bingley.

  ‘Wait and see whether he calls tomorrow,’ was my advice.

  Saturday 20th September

  Mr Bennet did not call again yesterday, and this morning, Bingley made up his mind to visit Longbourn.

  ‘Come with me, Darcy,’ he said.

  Telling myself I would go with him so that I could see whether Miss Bennet had any regard for him, I agreed, but my real reason was to see Elizabeth. I was as eager to see her as Bingley was to see her sister, and I was just as apprehensive about it.

  We set out. Bingley was silent, and I too was lost in my thoughts, wondering how I should be received. If Elizabeth resented me for being the cause of Lydia’s ruin I could hardly blame her, more particularly because she did not know that I had helped to set matters to rights.

  I had been particularly concerned that she should not know. I did not want her gratitude. If she had developed any tender feelings for me I wanted to know they sprang from love, and nothing else.

  We arrived. The servant showed us in. I immediately saw Elizabeth drop her gaze, embarrassed, and busy herself with her needlework. What did it mean? I wished I knew. Did it mean she was alive to the awkwardness of the situation, or did it mean that she could not bear to look at me?

  ‘Why, Mr Bingley!’ cried Mrs Bennet, jumping up with a smile. ‘How delightful to see you at Longbourn again. We have missed you. You quit us in such a hurry last year you did not have time to say goodbye! I hope you will not be thinking of leaving us again so quickly?’

  ‘No, I hope not,’ said Bingley, looking at Miss Bennet.

  I observed her smile, and drop her gaze. She, at least, I could understand, and it was clear that Bingley’s hopes would not be disappointed.

  ‘And Mr Darcy,’ said Mrs Bennet in an ill-humoured voice, turning to me.

  I took no notice of her humour, and I found it difficult to believe that only a few months ago I had thought it a reason for not proposing to Elizabeth. What did it matter if her mother was silly and vulgar? I did not want to marry Mrs Bennet.

  I could not take a seat next to Elizabeth, her younger sisters being by, but I asked her how her aunt and uncle did. She replied sensibly, but then turned her attention back to her work.

  Outwardly I was calm. Inwardly, I was otherwise, but I could do nothing. I was not close enough to Elizabeth to continue the conversation without it seeming particular, and what could I say to her, under her mother’s eye, that I wanted to say?

  To distract my thoughts, I looked at Miss Bennet and wondered how I could not have seen her partiality for Bingley last year. Her feelings for him were there in every gesture, and every look and every smile. Had I blinded myself, wanting Bingley to marry Georgiana? I wondered. I had not thought so at the time, but I realized now that I had.

  I glanced again at Elizabeth, wishing I could read her mind.

  After a time, she said: ‘Miss Darcy is well, I hope?’ ‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, glad to hear the sound of her voice.

  There was chance for nothing more. Her mother began talking of Lydia’s wedding. Elizabeth would not look up. Did she know that I had been involved? But no, I am sure she did not. I had sworn the Gardiners to secrecy, and I knew they would not betray me. Her confusion came from the subject, knowing what she does about my relations with Wickham.

  ‘It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a daughter well married,’ said Mrs Bennet, a speech that would have revolted me a few months before, but which now left no impression. I care nothing for Mr
s Bennet. Let her be the silliest woman in Christendom if she chooses. It will not prevent me marrying Elizabeth, if she will have me.

  Mrs Bennet continued to talk of Wickham, saying he had gone into the regulars, and adding: ‘Thank Heaven! He has some friends, though perhaps not so many as he deserves.’

  Elizabeth’s face was a fiery red, and her eyes sparkled with mortification. How I wanted to help her! But how I thought the colour became her.

  She did, at last, raise her head and speak.

  ‘Do you mean to stay in the country, Mr Bingley?’ she asked.

  I wished I was Bingley at that moment, so that she had spoken to me. Why did she favour my friend? Why would she not look at me? Did she not wish to? I was in misery.

  At last the visit drew to an end. I would have stayed all day if I could, but it was impossible.

  ‘You will come to dine with us on Tuesday, I hope, Mr Bingley?’ said Mrs Bennet as we rose to leave. She turned cold eyes to me, adding unwelcomingly: ‘And Mr Darcy.’

  What did I care for her manner? I was to see Elizabeth again.

  The next meeting will surely tell me whether she has any feelings for me, whether she can forgive me the grievous wrongs I have done her family and whether she can love me.

  I will be in torment until I know.

  Sunday 21st September

  ‘I thought Miss Bennet looked well last night,’ said Bingley to me this morning.

  ‘She did.’

  ‘I thought she looked very well,’ he said a few minutes later.

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘And in spirits. She has enjoyed the summer, I suppose,’ he said wistfully.

  ‘It is to be hoped so. You would not wish her to be unhappy?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he replied hastily.

  ‘I thought she did not look quite so blooming when we went in,’ I said to him.

  ‘No?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘No. But she appeared to blossom when she saw you.’

  Bingley smiled. ‘Mrs Bennet is a wonderful woman. Truly charming. And so polite. I did not expect her to ask me to dinner so soon. It is a courtesy I do not deserve.’

  Anyone who can think Mrs Bennet is a wonderful woman is in the grip of more than an infatuation. He is in love! I am glad for Bingley, and I only hope my own fortune can be as good.

  Tuesday 23rd September

  Bingley was ready to leave for Longbourn half an hour too early.

  ‘We cannot go so soon,’ I said, though I was just as eager to set out.

  ‘We might be delayed on the way,’ he said.

  ‘Not on such a short journey,’ I replied.

  ‘Jennings will not want to drive the horses too fast.’

  ‘We will reach Longbourn too soon, even if they walk all the way.’

  ‘There might be a branch in the road.’

  ‘We can drive round it.’

  ‘Or the carriage might lose a wheel.’

  ‘We cannot go for half an hour,’ I said, settling myself down with a book.

  I wished I felt as complacent as I seemed. I was as anxious to go as Bingley, and yet I was reluctant to go as well. He had the happiness of knowing his feelings were returned. I had no such assurance. To see Elizabeth again! I hardly dared think about it. If she smiled, what joy! If she avoided my gaze, what misery.

  Bingley walked over to the window.

  ‘You should do as I do, and choose a book,’ I said.

  He walked over to me and took it from my hands, then turned it round before handing it back to me. ‘You will do better if it is the right way up,’ he said. He looked at me curiously, but I did not enlighten him as to the cause of my distraction. Instead, I kept my eyes on the page, but they saw nothing. At last the appointed time came, and we set out for Longbourn. We were both of us silent. We arrived. We went in. Mrs Bennet greeted Bingley with an excess of civility, and gave me a cold bow. We repaired to the dining-room. Miss Bennet happened to look up as we entered and Bingley took his place next to her. Happy Bingley! I had no such fortune. I was almost as far from Elizabeth as it was possible to be. Even worse, I was seated next to her mother.

  Mrs Bennet had gone to a great deal of trouble with the dinner, and it was not difficult to see why. Her constant glances towards her eldest daughter and Bingley showed what direction her thoughts were taking. The soup was good, and it was followed by partridges and venison.

  ‘I hope you find the partridges well done?’ Mrs Bennet asked me.

  ‘Remarkably so,’ I replied, making an effort to be agreeable.

  ‘And the venison. Did you ever see a fatter haunch?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You will take some gravy, I hope?’ she pressed me.

  I had little appetite, and I declined her offer.

  ‘I suppose you are above a simple gravy,’ she said. ‘You will be used to a variety of sauces in London.’

  ‘I am,’ I replied.

  ‘You have dined with the Prince of Wales, I suppose?’

  ‘I have had that honour.’

  ‘Some people think that sort of gluttony genteel, but I confess I have always thought it vulgar. We do not have twenty sauces with every dish. We are not so wasteful in the country.’

  She turned her attention back to Bingley, and I endeavoured to eat my meal. I watched Elizabeth, hungry for a glance in a way that I was not hungry for the food, but she did not look at me.

  The ladies withdrew. The gentlemen sat over the port. I took no interest in the conversation. The iniquities of the French did not interest me. The Prince of Wales’s follies could not hold my attention. I glanced at the clock, and then at the other gentlemen. Would they never stop talking?

  We rejoined the ladies and I went towards Elizabeth, but there was no space near her. The dinner party was a large one, and as she poured out the coffee I could not get close. I tried nonetheless, but a young lady who will be for ever blighted in my eyes moved close to her and engaged her in conversation.

  Did Elizabeth look vexed? I thought she did, and the thought gave me hope. I walked away, but as soon as I had finished my coffee, which burned my mouth, so quickly did I drink it, I took the cup over to her for refilling.

  ‘Is your sister still at Pemberley?’ she asked.

  She seemed cool, aloof.

  ‘Yes, she will remain there till Christmas,’ I said.

  She asked after Georgiana’s friends, but said no more. I did not know whether to speak or whether to be silent. I wanted to speak, but I had so much to say I scarcely knew where to begin, and on reflection I realized that none of it could be said in a crowded drawing-room.

  My silence drew notice from one of the ladies and I was obliged to walk away, cursing myself for not having made more of my opportunity.

  The tea-things were removed and the card-tables placed. This was my opportunity! But Mrs Bennet demanded my presence at the whist-table and I could not refuse without giving offence. I nearly gave it. I nearly said: ‘I would much rather talk to your daughter.’ What would she have said? Would she have told me that she had no intention of inflicting such a disagreeable man on Elizabeth, or would she have been stunned, and fallen blissfully silent? I was tempted to try, but I could not embarrass Elizabeth.

  I could not keep my mind on the game. I lost repeatedly. I looked for an opportunity to speak to Elizabeth before I left, but I could not find one, and I returned to Netherfield in sombre mood.

  Bingley, by contrast, was brimming with happiness. I have decided that, tomorrow, I must tell him that Miss Bennet was in town, and that I kept it from him. He will not be pleased, but the deception has gone on for long enough.

  Wednesday 24th September

  ‘Is Miss Bennet not the most beautiful girl you have ever seen?’ Bingley asked me this evening as we played billiards.

  ‘She is.’

  ‘I think there might be hope,’ he said.

  ‘I am sure there is.’ I hesitated, but I had to speak. ‘Bingley, there is somet
hing I have to tell you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He looked at me in all innocence, and I felt guilty for the part I had played in deceiving him.

  ‘I have done you a great disservice. Last spring, Miss Bennet was in town.’

  ‘But I did not see her!’ he said in surprise.

  ‘No. I know. I should have told you, but I thought you had forgotten her. No, let me be honest, I hoped you had forgotten her, or would forget her, if you did not see her again.’

  ‘Darcy!’ He was hurt.

  ‘I am sorry. I had no right to meddle in your affairs. It was impertinent of me.’

  ‘So she followed me to London?’ he said, forgetting my deceit in the happiness of thinking that she had followed him.

  ‘She went to stay with her aunt and uncle, but she tried to see you. That is, she wrote to Caroline.’

  ‘Caroline! She knew of it, too?’

  ‘Yes. I am ashamed to say that Caroline cut Miss Bennet, and that I encouraged her.’

  ‘Darcy!’

  He was vexed.

  ‘I behaved very badly, and I beg your pardon.’

  ‘If she agrees to be my wife, you will have it. But perhaps in the future you will consider that I can manage my own affairs.’

  ‘I will, and better than I manage mine.’

  He looked at me enquiringly.

  I said no more. I cannot speak of my love for Elizabeth until I know it is returned. Unless I know it is returned.

  Thursday 25th September

  I have been obliged to return to town. How long I stay for will depend on circumstances.

  Tuesday 30th September

  I had a letter from Bingley this morning, evidently written in haste. It was blotted and so badly written as to be almost illegible. But at last I made it out.

  My dear Darcy,

  Congratulate me! Jane and I are to be married! She is the sweetest, most adorable angel! I cannot believe I have been lucky enough to win her. Her mother is in raptures. Her father is pleased. Elizabeth is delighted. I have time for no more. Caroline bids me send you her greetings. She is already planning her dress as the maid of honour, and looks forward to seeing you at the wedding.