Cousin Emma

by Perpetua Langley

  Just then, Miss Bingley glided past her. She gave Elizabeth a small smile and joined Mr. Darcy.

  Loudly, Miss Bingley said, “Mr. Darcy, I must know which of these country misses has managed to tempt you.”

  “I do not know what you mean,” Mr. Darcy said.

  “Come now,” Miss Bingley said gleefully. “There are so many to choose from! The Bennets alone have no end of females to consider. I must know which of them you prefer.”

  Darcy gritted his teeth. Caroline Bingley would goad him until he absolutely stopped the conversation. It particularly irked him that she should have singled out the Bennets. It was true, the three younger were absurd, but the two eldest were not. Still, he would not entangle himself in such an explanation. The confounded woman would only use whatever he said as further fodder for her ridiculous statements.

  “As I have mentioned, Miss Bingley, there is nobody in the neighborhood who could tempt me. I keep to my standards and let that be an end to it.”

  Miss Bingley glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Elizabeth. “Indeed,” she said.

  Mercifully, Mr. Claymore came to collect Elizabeth and she was led away from Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. Mr. Darcy had not turned and Elizabeth did not believe he was aware that he’d been overheard.

  To think, she’d been so naïve as to give Mr. Darcy the benefit of the doubt and forebear holding Miss Bingley’s words against him. Miss Bingley might be intentionally cruel but, as it happened, she was also stingily accurate.

  Nobody in the neighborhood met with Mr. Darcy’s high standards.

  And now, knowing she was considered inferior, she must suffer through a supper with that man!

  Mr. Claymore interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Bennet, you seem out of sorts this evening.”

  Elizabeth realized that she’d allowed her discomfiture to show. She smiled and said, “Indeed, not. I was only pondering what else might have gone wrong in the regiment since last we met.”

  “Ah,” Mr. Claymore said, laughing, “then I’d best inform you that one of the cooks has been made to understand that meat gone off cannot be repaired by a sauce, as evidenced by the many soldiers he sickened.”

  “Heavens,” Elizabeth said.

  “As always, Miss Bennet, our fine regiment stumbles bravely forward. It keeps life interesting, to my mind. Though poor Mr. Wickham did not agree and chased that cook around a mile of tents once he was well enough to walk.”

  “Mr. Wickham?” Elizabeth asked. “I do not believe I have met the gentleman.”

  “He is lately commissioned,” Mr. Claymore said. “He does not attend this evening, but I am certain you will meet with him soon, as he is a charming fellow when he is not trying to kill a cook.”

  Despite Elizabeth making every effort to dismiss her irritation with Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy, she found her mind continually returning to the subject. She considered simply disappearing into the retiring room to avoid dancing with him, just as he had disappeared onto the balcony at the beginning of the evening. Before she could positively decide to take such a rude step, he was before her.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, with all the seriousness that Elizabeth began to think might in fact be pompousness.

  Elizabeth held out her hand. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, not particularly attempting to sound good humored.

  Mr. Darcy led her to the line of dancers and they took their places. Elizabeth presumed that, but for the music, it would be a silent interlude. She had little inclination to converse with her partner. It would be usual for her to put her partner at his ease, so many of the officers being gallant and willing, but often struck with nerves when it came to talking.

  Mr. Darcy, however, required no such help. Even if he did, she was not certain she would have provided it.

  The music struck up and the dance began. Elizabeth looked about the couples to distract herself from her situation and noticed that Jane once again danced with Mr. Bingley.

  Mr. Bingley had claimed the first and the dance before supper. Surely, that was marked interest. Poor Emma, she would find her quick judgment on the matter turned on its head.

  Elizabeth’s gaze traveled round the room, and then she wished it had not. Mrs. Bennet was on the far side of it and while Elizabeth could not hear her words, she could guess at them—the lady was just now pointing at Jane.

  Elizabeth quickly averted her gaze.

  “Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said. “Do you enjoy riding?”

  “I prefer walking, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Though a horse will do when the distance is too great.”

  “Walking,” Mr. Darcy said, appearing nonplussed.

  “Walking,” she repeated.

  There was silence for some moments, then Mr. Darcy said, “May I ask what distance would be too great? For walking?”

  “I rarely encounter it, but I would guess above four miles,” Elizabeth said.

  “Above four miles!” Mr. Darcy said, clearly shocked by the idea.

  Elizabeth did not answer. It did not seem shocking to her that a person might walk such a distance. Perhaps those who spent much time in and out of carriages in London might find the length daunting, but she was no such person.

  Mercifully, they went on in silence after that.

  Darcy was rarely made so uneasy. In truth, he could not remember the last time he’d been made uneasy while out in society. It was evident that Miss Bennet had no wish to converse with him. It was startling what little conversation they’d had managed to have.

  What lady went walking for miles? Nothing short of above four miles was to be too far? Georgiana only went for turns around Pemberley’s gardens under the watchful eye of Mrs. Annesley.

  Where did Miss Bennet travel to, on foot and for such great distances? Certainly, she did not attempt to walk to Meryton, it would be too absurd.

  And now, he must escort the lady to supper.

  He would have a word with Bingley after this night was through. He would positively refuse to attend another of these entertainments. There was no reason on earth why Fitzwilliam Darcy should be made uncomfortable by anybody at an insignificant country dance. Miss Bennet should be flattered that he’d singled her out for the honor of his notice. Instead, she appeared grieved by it. It was unaccountable.

  The places at the tables in the supper room had filled rapidly and the room overflowed with high-spirited conversation.

  Elizabeth found herself placed by Jane, Mr. Bingley, Charlotte and Mr. Rayburn, for which she was grateful. She was even more grateful to be some distance from her younger sisters, as they were all three working to appear ridiculous in their own way. She was perhaps less grateful that Miss Bingley was nearby, having been led in by Colonel Forster.

  Lydia and Kitty held court with a gaggle of admiring officers. Lydia’s penchant for making jokes, even jokes that bordered on the scandalous, was much admired by a certain set in the regiment. Elizabeth doubted Kitty understood half of it, but where Lydia went, Kitty followed.

  Mary was very determinedly attempting to lecture Miss Mallory on some subject, that lady barely containing her look of boredom.

  Emma was seated by the charming Mr. Claymore. While Elizabeth could not overhear their conversation, upon Emma’s laughter she concluded that the gentleman was just now talking of the ill-fated meat and even more ill-fated cook that had served it. Mr. Weston was nearby them and appeared equally diverted.

  Mrs. Bennet was seated with Lady Lucas, as was her habit. Elizabeth attempted to ignore her mother’s very frequent glances in her and Jane’s direction. She could all too easily guess that various incomes of various gentlemen and Jane’s superior beauty were the subjects Mrs. Bennet spoke of.

  Mr. Bingley was gamely attempting to draw Mr. Darcy into conversation, that gentleman being near-silent thus far.

  “Darcy,” Bingley said, “I was just telling Miss Bennet of Pemberley’s lake. Do explain its origin.”

  Mr. Darcy slowly nodded and said, “There was once a stream in its p
lace and my father determined that it would do no worse for widening. He thought it might be pleasant to have it stocked. Once he’d done it, he saw that on windless days the house was partly reflected on the water and determined that he should have the entirety of the house reflected and broadened it accordingly.”

  “I was stunned the first time I viewed it,” Bingley said. “Pemberley is a grand house and to have its mirror image upon the lake as you approach is an extraordinary sight.”

  “I am much surprised, Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte said, “that you have been tempted away from such a place. It sounds positively lovely.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy said, “my sister feels the same—”

  “Have no fear of that, Charlotte,” Elizabeth said impulsively. “Mr. Darcy may have been tempted away, but there is nothing that tempts him here.”

  Mr. Darcy reddened, which Elizabeth understood to mean he comprehended that he’d been overheard in his conversation with Miss Bingley.

  Elizabeth noted Miss Bingley quietly smiling and was somewhat rueful of providing that lady any satisfaction. The rest of the party was momentarily silent and Charlotte, in particular, stared at her.

  “Well!” Mr. Bingley said. “I am very glad I’ve managed to tempt Darcy away from Pemberley. I do enjoy his company and we may yet see Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the scene.”

  “I do not believe you have mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Jane said.

  Elizabeth sent blessings to Jane, as the conversation turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, a cousin to Mr. Darcy.

  Mr. Darcy added little to the conversation as Mr. Bingley seemed in possession of all the facts. Elizabeth, for her own part, felt rather ashamed. It was not that she did not think Mr. Darcy deserved her comment, but that she had prided herself on her new-found restraint. Where had it gone? Why should this gentleman who was so recently introduced be so easily able to prompt her to throw over her own manners? It was true that he’d insulted her. Really, he’d insulted everybody. But he’d not said it directly, he’d not meant to be overheard. And, if she were to really examine the thing, Miss Bingley had gone some distance to prod him into it.

  So, it was not his behavior that was so much at issue. It was her own wounded pride. A stranger had arrived and shattered her vision of her little circle of society. She’d been very comfortable being a Bennet, welcome wherever she went. She’d felt rather confident of her herself. In truth, she’d felt rather confident in the world they all inhabited. She’d thought anybody coming into the neighborhood would instantly appreciate its charms. The assemblies that she knew so well, that she’d thought were so well done, did not measure up in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. The people who attended the evening did not strike him as worth countenancing.

  It stung her deeply to hear an outsider’s pronouncement. In two sentences she had been informed of her worth—‘there is nobody in the neighborhood who could tempt me. I keep to my standards and let that be an end to it.’ They were, none of them, of any particular note. To Mr. Darcy, they were only a tedious little group, not to be on par with London society. She did not think she’d ever been informed of a censure quite so quickly and sharply.

  Still, she might have kept her wounded pride to herself. Jane would have done. Jane would have silently smiled, and nobody would have been privy to her thoughts. Her own thoughts had come spilling out and she was not surprised that Charlotte had looked shocked.

  The Bennets had taken both their carriage and Mr. Weston’s to accommodate all of the party. Elizabeth had dearly hoped to find herself in a carriage with her father, Mr. Weston, Jane and Emma.

  Instead, she had been ushered into the Bennet’s carriage with Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and Mary. She looked wistfully out the window as Mr. Weston’s carriage set off.

  “Well, Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet said inquiringly.

  “Mama?” Elizabeth said tiredly.

  “Do not play bashful with me, miss,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Of course I saw that Mr. Darcy took you into supper. I could not help but note it.”

  “He did, indeed,” Elizabeth answered.

  “And?”

  “Yes, Lizzy,” Lydia said. “And? You know mama wishes to hear that you are engaged so you might as well tell her you are not.”

  “Marriage is a serious endeavor that should not be contemplated after only one evening of conversation,” Mary said solemnly.

  “Is that right, Mary?” Lydia asked in a mocking tone. “I hadn’t known.”

  “Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet said, her irritation evident. “Do tell me what you discussed. Was there anything promising in it?”

  “Nothing at all promising, I can assure you. Mr. Darcy does not think much of our little neighborhood. He is rather too grand for us,” Elizabeth said.

  “I knew it,” Lydia said. “I knew it as soon as I saw that proud look on his face. D’ya know that Kitty danced with him and he hardly said a word. She said it was horrible and she would not wish to try it again.”

  “I suspect Mr. Darcy would be in agreement,” Elizabeth said, “and so Kitty will have little to fear. I do not think we will see much of Mr. Darcy.”

  “I do not like it,” Mrs. Bennet said, in the tight voice she used whenever she was cross. “I do not like it at all. Why should Mr. Darcy put himself above us, I wonder?”

  Lydia stared at her mother as she was wont to do when Mrs. Bennet had missed some point that should be obvious. “Money, mama. He’s got ten thousand a year. That’s why he puts himself above us.”

  Mrs. Bennet huffed and said, “I really do not understand where England is going if money is to be the sole arbiter of society.”

  Thought it did not occur often, Elizabeth was inclined to agree with her mother.

  “Never mind Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said. “He’s too high and mighty for us and so we should just ignore him. In any case, Denny tells me that a new officer has arrived. His name is Wickham and Denny says he is jolly good fun.”

  “I do wish, Lydia,” Elizabeth said, “that you would cease addressing these officers with such familiarity. It is Mr. Denny.”

  “Bah,” Lydia said, laughing. “Perhaps Lizzy is perfect for Mr. Darcy after all. She certainly is serious enough just now to match him in his great grimaces.”

  The sky was still dark, though it would not be many hours before dawn. Jane’s bedchamber was lit by a single candle.

  Elizabeth helped Jane brush out her hair, it being their usual habit to closet themselves away together after a ball. Lydia and Kitty did the same and Elizabeth could hear their soft laughter drifting down the hall. Emma had taken herself off to write letters that Mr. Weston could carry back to Hartfield.

  “So, Jane,” Elizabeth said, “I could not help but notice that Mr. Bingley claimed your first and took you into supper. Very marked attention—what say you to it?”

  Jane examined her hands and said, “I was, at first, flattered. After all, Mr. Bingley is everything charming. He is so affable, Lizzy! His manners are exceptionally fine and he seems to have such a care for everybody’s comfort.”

  “Indeed, I am certain he possesses all of those good qualities,” Elizabeth said. “Though why should you appear unhappy by it?”

  “Well,” Jane went on softly, “I did begin to think very well of him. Perhaps too well. But then, Emma explained it all too me.”

  “Please tell me, Jane. I am entirely lost.”

  “It is that, for a man like Mr. Bingley, one cannot judge his interest only on appearances. For all his liveliness, there is a certain shyness too. Did you not note it when we were first introduced?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I did. He was a bit tongue-tied and I thought it very charming.”

  “As I did note it too, though I had not thought of the cause. Emma was able to see to the heart of the matter. Mr. Bingley does not yet have the courage to openly admire who he really esteems. Rather, he pays marked attention to the sister of the lady he secretly regards.”

  Elizabeth was dumbfounded. She had never heard of a more il
logical explanation of anybody’s behavior in her life.

  “Emma says she has seen the same done in Highbury. A gentleman appearing to admire a particular lady and then quite suddenly proposing to another.”

  “Jane,” Elizabeth said, “if you hint that—”

  “You know I would not be so coy as to hint,” Jane said. “Not to you, anyway. Emma has convinced me, Mr. Bingley admires you. We will see that he does, over time. You see, Lizzy, he is comfortable talking to me, as his feelings are not at all affected.”

  “This is the greatest bit of nonsense I have ever heard,” Elizabeth said.

  “It cannot be nonsense,” Jane said. “Emma is too experienced in these matters. At first, I did not wish to believe it, but then when she recollected how she had seen the same before, I must be convinced.”

  “I am not at all convinced,” Elizabeth said.

  “I am afraid she is right. Though, Lizzy, I think you may find yourself in the midst of a rivalry. Mr. Darcy paid you marked attention. Indeed, he seemed not to have the inclination to pay any other lady attention at all. How is that to be? Two friends with an interest in one lady?”

  Elizabeth dropped Jane’s hairbrush and erupted in laughter. Calming herself, she said, “Oh, Jane. My dear sister. Neither of the gentlemen are remotely interested in me, least of all Mr. Darcy. In fact, there is nobody in this neighborhood who could turn his head.”

  Jane appeared pensive. Elizabeth said, “I adore our cousin Emma, but let us not follow her directives quite so quickly. If there are any particular preferences to be known, the gentlemen will illuminate what they are and we need not guess at how it should all come out. If you do like Mr. Bingley, and I think you do, then I say keep liking him and see what comes of it. For myself, I will never be more than friends with Mr. Bingley and not even that with Mr. Darcy.”

  Netherfield’s bedchambers all contained small stone balconies where one might take in the air. Darcy had not made use of his until tonight, he’d even considered the design rather silly. Now, he found himself grateful for cool air and warm brandy.