Every muscle in his body tightened as his head jerked towards his friend. Had Bingley just requested the eldest daughter’s hand for the first dance? Mrs. Bennet puffed out her chest in pride, and it was all Darcy could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Why had he agreed to this? He should be in London with Georgiana not at some village assembly!
“Do you enjoy dancing as much as your friend, Mr. Darcy?”
He flinched and braced himself so as not to recoil. “No, I do not. Please excuse me.” Without even so much as a glance at her daughters, he strode in the direction of the refreshment table.
Mrs. Bennet’s indignant huff could be heard as it echoed from the walls. As if he would fall prey to that woman’s schemes! He had never liked to dance. It inevitably excited some young lady’s expectations, and then, he had to endure their incessant, ridiculous babbling for an entire set as one might tolerate the squawking of a noisy bird. He was in no mood for such torture from any woman—the cacophony of birds was, in fact, preferable!
From the periphery, he observed the dancers and those conversing rather than taking part. Miss Bingley hovered nearby for a time upon her arrival, but he refused as much as a glance to acknowledge her presence. His mere existence was enough to excite her expectations; he would provide nothing further. After a half hour, she disappeared into the revellers, certain to be criticising the local fashion or lack thereof with her sister since there appeared to be no one of rank or circumstance in attendance.
The night was nearing its blessed end when Bingley returned at long last. "Come, Darcy! I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not.” He continued to watch the unrefined behaviour of those in the current set. “You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable.”
"I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom!”
Darcy glared at his friend who continued to give an unaffected grin.
“Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening and several of them are uncommonly pretty."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room." Darcy gestured toward the eldest Miss Bennet. She was beautiful; although, not at all the look he fancied. Instead, she was society’s current ideal: tall, willowy, and blonde with blue eyes—very much to Bingley’s preference.
Bingley surveyed the room and gestured with his chin to some unknown object behind Darcy. "One of Miss Bennet’s sisters is sitting down just behind you. She is pretty and, if like her sister, very amiable. I am certain my partner would be pleased to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?" He turned to see a petite young woman with auburn curls piled atop her head and sparkling hazel eyes. Their gazes met, and a knot formed in his throat.
“Darcy?”
He gave a small cough, so he could speak. "She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me. I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. Return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting your time with me."
Bingley’s eyebrows rose to his forehead, but he did no more than grin as he strode back to the eldest Miss Bennet.
With a heavy sigh, he surveyed the room, once again stopping at the young lady, but she was no longer in the same spot. Rather, she was moving toward him. Her light and pleasing figure glided amongst the crowd, and as she passed, she held his eye, raising one brow to give an impish grin.
He stood stock-still. What could she mean by that expression? Could she have heard his response to Bingley? Well, it would not bother him if she had. His frank words would render her less likely to set her cap at him, would they not?
She passed and continued to wend her way until she approached another lady. They began to speak while her eyes found him once more. Her expression was amused and playful, particularly when she began to laugh. Was she laughing at him?
A low groan escaped as he turned his back to them. Would that he and Bingley could return to Netherfield, so he could leave this nightmare behind.
The evening, despite his fervent wishes otherwise, did not come to a swift end. Instead, he was forced to remain until their carriage crept its way much like a snail to the front of the queue, and then, he endured Miss Bingley’s unending criticism of the neighbourhood for the entirety of their return to Netherfield.
When he closed his bedchamber door behind him, he leaned back against the dark stained panel and closed his eyes. What a blessed relief to be alone at long last!
Chapter 2
November 12th 1811
Elizabeth Bennet slammed the door behind her and stomped at a swift pace through the back garden of Longbourn, her gloves taking the punishment of having her hands jammed without care into their confines.
“People do not die of trifling colds!” she muttered under her breath. “That has to be the most preposterous notion! How Father could allow her to send Jane on horseback...”
Kitty and Lydia called for her to wait, but she paid them no heed and continued her determined stride toward Meryton. Lydia’s loud squeal echoed off the buildings when they reached town, and she peered back as her sisters ran across the road to Captain Carter, who stood in the doorway of a home belonging to one of the officer’s wives.
Elizabeth’s body continued to tremble, and her breath exhaled in puffs as she made her way towards Netherfield, the rain-soaked earth sticking and clinging to her boots as she trod through the field. She would not be fit to be seen, though what did that matter if she only wished to see Jane?
After she climbed the next stile, a large puddle suddenly loomed before her, and a low growl erupted from the back of her throat.
It would not do to arrive with her walking boots soaked through and her petticoats drenched! A quick survey revealed a dryer path to the side, and she stepped over to follow it along the edge of the wood, continuing to climb stiles and spring over puddles with impatient activity.
As she neared the house, a glance at her feet prompted a soft laugh. Francine Bennet would be appalled at the state of her boots! A wide ring of mud, fallen leaves, and grass had clung to the sides and had made the three-mile ramble with her to see Jane.
Jane! The rain the previous afternoon had been a steady downpour and the temperature had dropped as the storm continued. The poor dear had to be soaked through and frigid upon her arrival to tea with Mr. Bingley’s sisters!
Those two ladies’ reactions must have been as supercilious as at the Assembly—likely worse. Their spiteful comments and sneers may have been disguised with care, yet they were still evident to Elizabeth. Jane did not perceive their distaste for Meryton society and found the two ladies agreeable; she never did see the ill in people.
Then, there was Mr. Darcy! What could amiable, generous Mr. Bingley have in common with that prideful man? How do such opposites become friends?
“Not tolerable enough to tempt him. Hah! Insufferable man!”
Perhaps Jane would be well enough to travel home once Elizabeth reached Netherfield. She shook her head and sighed. No, Jane would not have sent such a letter as she had this morning if she was well enough to return home. After all, the journey to Longbourn did not require substantial energy or fortitude.
Upon her arrival, she was shown to the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were assembled. Miss Bingley’s critical eye took in her appearance from head to toe with a dismissive sniff.
“Why, Miss Eliza! What could you be doing out so early—and in such dirty weather?”
“I have come to inquire about my sister.” She drew back her shoulders and stood firm in response to Miss Bingley’s derisive glare. Her courage always rose with every attempt to intimidate her and now would be no different!
“Miss Bennet is resting comfortably, though I believe she passed the night very ill,” responded Mrs. Hurst. “I looked in on her myself
this very morning on my way to breakfast.”
“I thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Hurst.” Neither woman appeared inclined to ask whether she would care to visit Jane, and Elizabeth’s nails dug into her palm. She opened her mouth, but it was not her voice that made the request, it was Mr. Darcy’s.
“Miss Elizabeth, would you like to spend time with your sister?”
Mr. Darcy’s expression was still arrogant, but it mattered not. She could have kissed him! At that moment, he was the kindest, most generous person in the room.
“Yes! I should like to tend to her myself for a time, if that is acceptable.”
Mr. Bingley sprang from his chair. “Of course! I do apologise for not thinking of it myself. Please remain as long as you desire. I am certain Miss Bennet will find your tender care more beneficial than that of my sisters or my staff.” He narrowed his eyes towards Miss Bingley, but his features softened when they returned to Elizabeth. “In fact, you must stay with your sister for as long as she remains at Netherfield.”
Elizabeth’s heart leapt for a moment before her stomach sank. To accept such a gesture would be impolite. She could not take such advantage of his hospitality. “As kind as you are to offer, Mr. Bingley, I would not like to be an imposition.”
“Nonsense! I insist. I will pen a letter to your father and send a carriage for your trunk straightaway.”
The wide smile that overspread her features could not be prevented. “I thank you. I will be much more at ease tending to Jane myself, so your gesture will be appreciated by us both, I am certain.”
“Capital!” He motioned to a maid passing the doorway. “You there! Please show Miss Elizabeth to Miss Bennet’s room, and inform Mrs. Nicholls that she will be remaining with us until Miss Bennet is well. I am sure she would prefer a bedchamber close to that of Miss Bennet’s, if one is available.”
The girl curtsied. “Yes, sir.”
“Should Miss Bennet feel well enough to spare your company, then, please join us for meals. The staff will notify you when the time nears, so you can prepare or request a tray should you have need of it.” With a smile, she thanked Mr. Bingley again, curtsied, and followed the maid to her sister’s bedchamber.
Once the door was closed behind her, she crept up to the bed where a fitful Jane rested. A slight touch to her forehead revealed she was indeed very feverish and was too ill to leave her room, much less Netherfield.
A jug of water and soft towelling was set nearby. Elizabeth dampened one of the cloths, laying it against Jane’s cheek. With a shiver, her sister’s eyes opened and her lips curved upward in exhausted delight. “I am so glad you have come.”
“When we received your note, I could not stay away.” She sat beside Jane and continued to bathe her sister’s face and neck with the wet cloth. “Now, let us tend to your fever; then, I will beg Mr. Bingley to send for Mr. Jones as you appear very ill indeed.”
Her sister gave a choking laugh, and Elizabeth cast a glance around the room. “Have you nothing to drink? Has no one brought you even some tea?”
She stood and rang the bell, happening to summon the same maid who had shown her to Jane’s chambers. Tea and broth, if it was available, were requested, and she eschewed the luncheon to remain with Jane, only breaking long enough to request the apothecary.
That afternoon, as Jane rested, Elizabeth ventured down to dine in company with the Bingleys, the Hursts, and Mr. Darcy. The ladies were theatrical in their expressions of shock over Jane’s diagnosis of a violent cold, and proceeded to have a discourse that lasted throughout the meal about their excessive dislike of being ill themselves.
The urge to roll her eyes towards heaven was tempting, but her manners prevented Elizabeth from affronting her hosts in such a way—even if the ladies were as ridiculous as they were disagreeable.
As the evening progressed, Mr. Hurst overindulged on wine without speaking and, eventually, dozed while the rest of their party conversed or played cards. It was also no surprise that Mr. Darcy had little to offer on the matter of Jane’s illness, and ate in silence; however, why did he continue to stare at her so? Was there naught to entertain him but her foibles and flaws?
In contrast, Mr. Bingley’s anxiety for Jane was evident and heart-warming, and his attentions to herself were most pleasing, and prevented her from feeling so much an intruder, though the others were sure to consider her a bothersome imposition.
Elizabeth excused herself after dinner to attend her sister. Jane’s cheeks were flushed and her brow was warm, but she was in an undisturbed slumber, likely due to the elixir Mr. Jones had left that morning. As her sister required the rest, Elizabeth ventured back toward the drawing room, but halted at the haughty sound of Mrs. Hurst’s voice.
"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."
"She did indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister has a cold?"
Elizabeth’s eyes widened until they hurt. If Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst had even the slightest hint of warmth to their personalities, Elizabeth might not have felt the need to traipse all of the way to Netherfield to care for her sister!
"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud!"
"I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well this morning,” interrupted Bingley. “Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."
A hint of anger tinged Mr. Bingley’s voice, and Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. He had never challenged his sisters in public since their arrival in Meryton, but his voice held a distinctive tone of disapproval.
"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley. "You would not allow your sister make such an exhibition."
"Certainly not."
She swallowed to keep from commenting aloud. Of course, the high and mighty Mr. Darcy would not condone her actions or wish his sister to emulate them. He only looked upon her to find fault!
"To walk from Longbourn to Netherfield, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! Her flagrant disregard for propriety shows an abominable sort of conceited independence."
"It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing." Mr. Bingley’s voice continued to be laced with disapprobation and had a defensive undertone. “I doubt either of you would go to such lengths for each other.”
"I am afraid, Mr. Darcy." Miss Bingley spoke a bit lower, so Elizabeth had to lean in to hear her. "That this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes."
Those same eyes bulged wide as saucers. “Fine eyes!” mouthed Elizabeth incredulously.
"Not at all. They were brightened by the exercise."
No! He was staring—looking to find fault. He did not find her handsome and had said so himself! She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me.
Mrs. Hurst’s voice brought her back to the conversation within the room. "I have an excessive regard for Jane Bennet. She is a dear, sweet girl. I do wish she were well settled, yet with such a family and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it."
Elizabeth took a step closer to the door and with a light touch, placed her hand upon it.
"I think I have heard that their uncle is an attorney in Meryton." Contempt was evident in the tone of each word that came from Miss Bingley’s lips.
Mrs. Hurst gave a small cackle. "Yes, and the other lives somewhere near Cheapside, does he not?"
"That is capital." Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst dissolved into vicious giggles.
Darcy glanced to Bingley, who for the most part, was making a concerted effort to ignore his sisters, not that he did not commiserate with his friend. If he made pains to correct all of their conceited ramblings, the poor man would find himself hoarse in but a few hours.
Bingley had, at least, received a response from Caroline’s cook, who still manned her post, yet she could not be return
ed to London forthwith. Bingley still awaited the arrival of Miss Bingley’s new companion, which they prayed was no more than a few more days hence!
As her stay grew longer, Miss Bingley had begun insinuating herself closer and closer to Darcy, and it unnerved him. At the Lucas’, she made a cloying grab for his arm, but a sudden shift prevented him from falling into her clutches. His patience with her had met a swift end that evening. He would no longer pretend polite conversation or tolerate Miss Bingley!
How dare Miss Bingley presume herself above the Miss Bennets! While the younger sisters and the mother were certainly not models of propriety, they were still above Miss Bingley by birth.
“Yet, they are the daughters of a gentleman while you are the daughter of a tradesman.”
Miss Bingley’s head spun around to reveal her jaw agape.
“Mr. Bennet has an estate, and though your brother may have a larger income, he has yet to become a part of the landed gentry.”
“The Bennets’ estate is insignificant,” sneered Miss Bingley.
“Nevertheless, it is an estate, which according to Mr. Bennet, has been in the Bennet family for over two-hundred years.”
“But their uncles—”
A cringe seized him at Miss Bingley’s high-pitched tone. “Their uncles may materially lessen their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world, but their uncles, at least, have roots in the gentry—unlike you.”
Bingley turned and regarded his friend with curiosity. “Do they? I had not heard.”
“When I made the acquaintance of Mr. Bennet at Lucas Lodge, he made mention of a prominent Derbyshire family who is well known to me. We spent a portion of the evening speaking of that family and certain members of his.”
“Their origins are irrelevant!” Miss Bingley was as red as a beetroot and her eyes were harried. “The Miss Bennets—”
“But you were just deriding their roots,” exclaimed Bingley.
Particular Intentions Page 2