Jane paled, and Mr. Bingley coloured slightly, looking at Darcy and his sisters as he responded, “I would be happy to accept any invitation to dinner, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Excellent then, Mr. Bingley,” she said happily, “we will expect you most eagerly with the finest wine in the cellar…perhaps to settle an even greater celebration.”
Mr. Bennet took hold of his wife’s arm, trying to calm her. “My dear, I think we should return to the house; it is too hot outside.”
“No, it is not, Mr. Bennet. I cannot possibly leave now,” she said with a hiccup, which made Lydia and Kitty burst into laughter. Elizabeth attempted to check her sisters’ enthusiasm as she felt a clawing sensation in her chest.
“Come, my dear!” Mr. Bennet said, hoping to quiet his lady’s effusion.
“Come where? I have not finished talking.”
Mr. Bingley was immediately approached by his sisters, and Elizabeth saw with alarm that they were whispering something of great importance to him. Mr. Bingley seemed preoccupied yet torn between Jane and his family.
Mr. Darcy approached Mr. Bennet and said calmly, “I think we should return home. We thank you for—”
“You are thinking of leaving, Mr. Bingley?” Mrs. Bennet, who took in Mr. Darcy’s words, panicked, determined to have a confirmation from Mr. Bingley that he would remain.
“Mama,” Elizabeth spoke while looking desperately at Mr. Bennet for help. But there was little he could do; the damage had been done.
“Mr. Bennet, they cannot go! Mr. Bingley has not proposed to Jane yet!” she cried.
Silence immediately fell over the party like a cold rain. Mortified, Jane looked at her mother, her eyes filling with tears, unable to look at Mr. Bingley or his sisters. Elizabeth’s eyes filled with angry tears while Lydia and Kitty continued to laugh into their hands.
The long silence was finally interrupted when Mr. Darcy spoke. “Thank you for the day!”
Mr. Bingley said nothing but followed his friend, barely able to utter a good-bye.
“Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, would you please wait a moment? I shall see you at your carriage shortly,” Mr. Bennet spoke in a broken voice, holding his wife’s arm as she staggered hesitantly.
The two gentlemen nodded in agreement then headed to their carriage where the Hursts and Miss Bingley were already seated. The Bennets walked towards the house; Jane wiped the tears falling on her cheeks, Lydia and Kitty laughed as they ran forward, and Elizabeth struggled with her anger.
“Well, that was another chance ruined for Jane,” Mrs. Bennet continued. “If only Mr. Darcy had not returned and Mr. Bingley’s sisters had not come, they might be engaged already. What do you think, Lizzy?”
They entered the main hall, Mr. Bennet still holding one of his wife’s arms and Mary the other. He then abandoned his wife and was about to leave and catch the guests before departing when Elizabeth shouted furiously.
“What do I think? I think you exposed all of us to ridicule, Mama! And you have ruined Jane’s chance of happiness forever!” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I can speak to you no longer. You should rest while I go to Jane.”
“Lizzy dear,” Mr. Bennet called to her, but she turned to her beloved father with equal anger.
“Papa, there are times when your involvement is necessary. You cannot pretend everything is fine and allow all of us to be exposed to the world’s censure only to protect your peaceful existence. Forgive me for being so harsh, but I can bear it no longer.”
She knew she was hurting her parents; she also knew that her anger was a result of the shame she felt—not only on Jane’s behalf but also for herself—in the eyes of Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bennet left the house, turning his back to his favourite daughter so she could not see his eyes moistened with tears of pain.
***
As Mary was helping their mother to her chamber, Lydia and Kitty ran down the stairs, pushing Elizabeth away and yelling, “He is coming!”
“Who is coming? Lydia, Kitty, come here! The Bingleys are still outside; let us not look even more ridiculous to them!” Elizabeth said, her low, sharp voice concealing her fury.
“Mr. Denny is coming, Lizzy! We say him from the window. He is here!”
Elizabeth held both their arms to stop them while she looked outside. The carriage was coming to a stop in front of the gate, and her father was talking to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. Just behind them stepped Mr. Denny and another young officer.
“Lydia, Kitty, please stay here until they enter,” Elizabeth demanded. She, however, stepped out and walked towards them, intrigued by Mr. Darcy’s stiff posture and the sudden turn of the head, as though he refused to look at the newly arrived guests. She moved closer and stopped, looking from Mr. Darcy to the officers. His countenance was severe and dark; her eyes caught a glimpse of his and shivered at the deep torment betrayed by his shadowed blue gaze.
Mr. Denny looked perfectly at ease, greeting everyone joyfully. The other officer was apparently uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to another, rubbing his hands on his neck, and turning away from Mr. Darcy as if to avoid him.
She noticed she had been observed, so she turned back towards the house and stopped in front of the main entrance.
“Who is the man accompanying Mr. Denny, Lizzy?” She startled as she heard Lydia’s voice. “Oh, he looks so handsome, does he not, Kitty?”
Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy mount his horse hastily. He appeared angry and eager to leave, and this put an end to the discussion between his friend and Mr. Bennet.
The Bingley party quickly left, the two gentlemen riding their horses at a canter and the carriage following them.
“Lizzy, Papa is bringing Mr. Denny and his friend into the house! This is the most wonderful day of my life,” Lydia cried. “Kitty, One of those men will be my future husband, let it be noted here and now,” Lydia said, ready to make her final claim. Kitty protested that it was not right, for she had seen him at the same time as Lydia.
“Lydia, Kitty, stop this silly conversation at once. Let us go into the drawing room this instant.”
Elizabeth’s heart was still heavy over the painful, embarrassing events and worried for Jane—who was alone in their bedchamber. She was tempted to join her elder sister, but she was reluctant to behave impolitely towards the two officers, so she chose to stay long enough to welcome them.
They happened upon Mrs. Bennet and Mary, who were quickly informed about the new exciting visit. Mrs. Bennet sat on the couch and asked for a cup of tea, her mind slightly clearer. The effect of the wine was being replaced by a headache, but she could not miss the visit of an officer—or two.
When the gentlemen entered, Mr. Bennet made the introductions. The ladies found that the young officer’s name was Mr. Wickham and he had just joined the regiment at Mr. Denny’s recommendation.
“Please, accept our apologies. We have come at an appropriate time, have we not?” Mr. Denny spoke.
“Of course,” Mrs. Bennet replied joyfully. “We have just entertained guests, but you are welcome at our house any time! Please be seated!”
Mr. Denny sat down, and Mr. Wickham did the same.
“Is Miss Bennet not at home?” Mr. Denny asked.
“Yes, she is,” Elizabeth replied, “but she is a little indisposed at the moment, and she retired to her room earlier. Had she known you would call, I am sure she would have made an effort to be here.”
“Oh, please do not trouble her. I just hope she will be better soon.”
“I am sure she will, thank you for your concern.”
Mr. Wickham smiled charmingly. “Mrs. Bennet, I beg your forgiveness for coming here without a proper invitation. Denny spoke so highly of your family and told me that he is proud to call you his friends. He was eager to call on you, and since I know so few people in the neighbourhood, I dared to join him. ”
“Mr. Denny is always so kind! We are happy to see him—and you, sir. What a pleasant surprise after such a stressful day!” Mrs. Bennet continued, p
leased by the generous praise.
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that you have had a stressful day so far, ma’am; I hope we give you no reason to complain,” Mr. Wickham replied warmly.
It was Mr. Bennet’s turn to change the subject. “Let us speak more of you, Mr. Wickham. How do you like our county? Have you been in Hertfordshire before?”
The conversation continued, increasingly cheerful, as though they were long time acquaintances. Mr. Wickham’s friendly voice, charming smile, and open manners immediately won the ladies’ approval. Even Elizabeth admitted that he was equally as handsome as he was amiable, and his company alleviated some of her earlier torment.
“Mr. Bingley is your neighbour, I understand,” Mr. Denny asked.
“Yes.” Mrs. Bennet was the first to answer. “Mr. Bennet took Mr. Bingley and, of course, his friend Mr. Darcy to inspect his land a few days ago. And today we had a picnic, which did not go as well as we hoped. Perhaps if you were here sooner, things would have been quite different.”
Elizabeth watched Mr. Wickham closely when Mr. Darcy’s name was mentioned. The slight trace of paleness and the brief averting of his eyes proved once again that there was a previous history between the two men—one that made both uneasy with each other and unwilling to acknowledge their acquaintance to the world. What could be the meaning of it? Elizabeth asked herself, wondering how she could find out more. She listened to the rest of the conversation with great interest, hoping for something that would clarify the circumstances of Mr. Wickham’s knowing Mr. Darcy. But there were no such details. Mr. Wickham spoke only of his time in the militia and his camaraderie with Mr. Denny.
Then, Mr. Wickham inquired in a calm and apparently light voice, “Is Mr. Darcy your neighbour too?”
“Mr. Darcy? Oh no, he is Mr. Bingley’s friend and stays at Netherfield. Which is good, because he is not the most pleasant person to be around,” Lydia replied.
“Do you know Mr. Darcy? Have you met him before?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, I met Mr. Darcy a long time ago, and I know him well enough to declare that Miss Lydia is right. He is not the most pleasant person to be around,” Mr. Wickham declared, his voice implying more than he said.
Elizabeth was intrigued and disturbed by the answer; she also saw her father raise his eyebrow in wonder, a clear sign that he was displeased.
“Oh, we all agree with Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet approved. “Everyone in Meryton has a poor opinion of Mr. Darcy. His manners are unpleasant and his behaviour arrogant. He is the most dreadful person.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth protested. “Mr. Darcy had been a guest in our house, and he was been nothing but polite to us. His manners and his behaviour might not meet with our approval, but we have no right to speak so harshly about him.”
Mr. Bennet joined her protest. “I confess I happen to like Mr. Darcy; his knowledge is broad, and we share a passion for reading, which for me is sufficient proof in his favour. There are many other people—in the neighbourhood or farther—that I like much less than him.”
“Mr. Bennet’s arguments are valid, of course,” said Mr. Wickham. “Darcy has always tried to improve himself in every aspect—due to his pride and his eagerness to be recognised as the best in everything. But Mrs. Bennet is not wrong either—on this I can testify too. However, I feel it is wrong for me to speak of him in his absence, being so little objective about it.”
“A wise decision, indeed,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Let us find a more neutral subject.”
“Oh yes, I was wondering: How long will you stay in Meryton?” Lydia interfered. “Do you think your colonel will host a ball? You cannot leave without having a ball!”
The few things she heard only left Elizabeth more intrigued and her curiosity piqued. Mr. Wickham’s words implied much and revealed nothing objective. Despite Mr. Wickham’s pleasant manners, she was rather displeased with his cunning attempt to depict Mr. Darcy without uttering a single explanation. She had known Mr. Darcy for a short time and Mr. Wickham even less. And as things stood then, she gave her opinion the preference without thinking twice.
The visit was short and ended in Lydia’s unsuccessful pleas to stay longer. Elizabeth was eager to have them gone so she could think of all she heard. The gentlemen promised a repeat of their visit, for they both declared to have found their time at the Bennet house most enjoyable. Before they left, Mr. Wickham addressed Elizabeth personally and expressed his wish to see her again.
After the visit, Lydia and Kitty declared themselves to be smitten by the young officer as never before.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Wickham is a very fine officer and gentleman,” Mrs. Bennet uttered, “unlike some gentleman we have had the misfortune to entertain as guests in our house.”
“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bennet spoke in a tone no lady in his family remembered hearing before, “I would have hoped that, for the indelicacy of the manner in which you have behaved today, you would not wish to comment on anything further.”
“Mr. Bennet, I have only acted in Jane’s best interest. Mr. Bingley is in love with her; we all know that. It is only natural that he should propose.”
Mr. Bennet headed to the door, determined to listen no more. He stopped on the threshold and said only, “Well, let us hope that your acting in Jane’s best interest did not frighten Mr. Bingley and make him run away for good.”
Mrs. Bennet was left alone with her daughters her mouth and eyes wide in astonishment. “Tell me, Elizabeth, what does your father mean? Surely, he is only making fun of me. Why would Mr. Bingley run away? That cannot be true!”
”I do not know, Mama. I cannot guess what Papa meant or what is in Mr. Bingley’s mind. Now please excuse me; I am going to Jane.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jane was inconsolable for the rest of the evening; she had no interest in hearing of the officers’ visit, and she remained in her room, unable to talk to anyone. It was evident that she had wept; her beautiful eyes were now void of all joy. Elizabeth sat next to her in silence. She knew not what words could bring comfort at that distressing moment, and she feared hurting her sister with false hope.
“What if I never to see him again, Lizzy? I think I shall die.”
“Do not say such a thing, Jane!”
“You see, Lizzy, not even you can offer any hope. You have not even a lie to offer me as comfort.”
Elizabeth touched her sister’s hand, but Jane turned her back and closed her eyes. After a while, Jane fell asleep; the suffering of the last hours had defeated her, and Elizabeth spent the chief of her night in a vigil for fear she would be needed unexpectedly.
“The day has been intense and so full of surprises,” Elizabeth thought. “There was joy, then agony. And everything changed in an instant.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and saw Mr. Darcy speaking pleasantly with her father and glancing at her. She remembered the blue warmth of his eyes when he was at ease, the smiles that twisted his lips, the dimples that made him appear younger, and his voice—deep and full of meaning. The recollections burnt into her soul, and she could not help but wonder whether she would also see Mr. Darcy again. She had once thought him gone forever, and the notion tormented her for days. Since then, she had come to know him better, to value his character more, and to enjoy his company, eagerly awaiting it. How would she bear the possibility of his breaking any connections to her family? Would he do that? Did he have good reasons for such a dramatic decision?
Almost instantly, she felt ashamed of her musings; she was selfish while Jane suffered immensely. She had no right to think of Mr. Darcy—not in those terms.
Elizabeth turned towards the other side of the bed, looking out the window at the splendid moon above. It was not white, as one would have expected, but rather greyish as though someone had tainted its beauty. With this on her mind, Elizabeth fell asleep as well.
On the following morning at breakfast, everyone—with the exception of Lydia and Kitty who made remarks on the two officers who had visited them—kept silent. Ja
ne barely touched her food; Elizabeth watched her with alarm, but she spoke nothing, determined to allow her sister to recover on her own.
“Mr. Bennet,” his wife eventually spoke, “I have thought long and hard, and I have come to the conclusion that I must write a letter to Mr. Bingley and apologise for what happened yesterday.”
His eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“I should hope you know that the idea of your writing to a gentleman is another foolish thing, madam. Besides, I did apologise to him yesterday at the carriage, and I also wrote him a letter earlier today. I sent John to deliver it.” Elizabeth looked at her father in surprise, but he did not care to continue.
Mrs. Bennet looked at Jane, who was still deeply disconcerted, and said gently, “Do not fear, Jane, everything will be fine. You just have to protect your beauty. It would not do for Mr. Bingley to return and see your eyes red and swollen.”
Mr. Bennet stood up from his chair nervously, folding his paper, and went to the library.
“Good God, woman! Leave Jane alone!”
Mrs. Bennet was momentarily silenced by his outburst; then she began complaining about the unfair treatment and about her nerves. Elizabeth drew closer to Jane and invited her for a walk. Jane declined and returned to her needlework, avoiding further invitation.
Elizabeth decided to go outside herself; she needed the put her troubled thoughts at peace away from the din. And she needed time to think about how to help her beloved sister. There must be something she could do.
Elizabeth walked towards the path to Netherfield with no precise intentions. Near the edge of the property, she saw John returning and waved to him to dismount. He was heated from the exercise and breathing heavily.
“John, is everything well? I understand you delivered my father’s letter to Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes, Miss Lizzy. To Mr. Bingley in person—just as Mr. Bennet instructed me.”
Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 19