Deception

by Ola Wegner

  She felt Jane taking her gloved hand and squeezing it lightly. Her sister smiled at her kindly, as if saying that all would be well. Elizabeth smiled back, feeling immediately built up in her spirits.

  When the Bennets entered the Assembly Rooms in Meryton, it was still early, and none of the much expected guests had appeared yet. Elizabeth and Jane went to talk with their mutual friend, Charlotte Lucas. Elizabeth glanced from time to time towards the entrance, expecting, or rather dreading, to see the tall, well built figure of Mr. Brooke.

  Soon the new guests entered, but they were the residents from Netherfield. As Charlotte informed her and Jane, the handsome blond man was Mr. Bingley, and the tall man behind him was his best friend, Mr. Darcy. There were also two elegant ladies, the older one supported on the arm of rather corpulent gentleman. They were Mr. Bingley’s sisters and the husband of the older one, Mr. Hurst.

  Elizabeth’s gaze, like the attention of the others, rested on the newcomers. She found Mr. Bingley genuinely pleasant, the kind of person one tends to like from the first moments of acquaintance. Miss Bingley struck Elizabeth as pretentious, and over-elaborately dressed. As for Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, it was hard to say anything binding about them.

  However, it was Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy, who caught her immediate attention. His tall, fit frame, handsome, manly features, and dark looks all made her heart beat faster, and she felt a light blush creeping up her face. Instantly, she became angry with herself for her uncontrolled reaction to this unknown gentleman. She was confused. Such sensations were a novelty for her, as she had never reacted quite like this to any man in the past. Consequently, she took great care not to look in the direction of the handsome man from Derbyshire, as Charlotte whispered into her ear.

  She was so preoccupied with her musings over Mr. Darcy, that she noticed her uncle Phillips approaching with Mr. Brooke only when they stood directly before them. She glanced at Jane nervously, and her sister replied with the tiniest of smiles and a reassuring look.

  “Ladies, may I introduce you to our new neighbour, Mr. Brooke,” Mr. Phillips spoke gallantly. Brooke bowed deeply, and Elizabeth felt his eyes on her. She met his eyes for only a short moment before lowering her gaze to the floor as her uncle went through introductions.

  “As far as I know, you have already met, Miss Lucas?”

  “I have had the pleasure.” Brooke bowed politely in front of Charlotte.

  “And here are my nieces, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Mr. Phillips extended his hand to the Bennet girls.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies,” Brooke spoke earnestly, as first Jane and then Elizabeth curtseyed.

  “We are neighbours, I believe,” he enquired politely. “Your father’s estate is called Longbourn, am I right?”

  “Perfectly right, sir,” Jane answered, glancing sideways at her still flustered sister.

  “It must be less than five miles from Purvis Lodge?” Brooke seemed to direct his last question specifically to Elizabeth.

  “Four exactly,” Elizabeth said, looking up at him at last.

  “Ah, yes, four indeed.” Brooke smiled pleasantly. “I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for clarification.”

  “How do you find Hertfordshire so far, Mr. Brooke?” Jane decided to take the burden of carrying the conversation, as clearly her usually very talkative younger sister had not composed herself enough yet to fully participate in it.

  Elizabeth sighed inwardly with relief. It was rather obvious that Mr. Brooke had no intention of mentioning their unfortunate first meeting. She managed a narrow escape this time. No more tree climbing in the future, she promised herself. Jane was perfectly right on this. Even though the activity was enjoyable, it was still not worth the later possible apprehension and worry.

  Chapter Two

  “Come on, Darcy, I must have you dance,” Mr. Bingley cried, standing close to his friend.

  The taller man gave him a dispiriting look and spoke in an impatient, haughty voice. “I have no intention of dancing.”

  However, Mr. Bingley did not seem either offended or discouraged with the visible lack of enthusiasm on the other man’s part. “Darcy, you cannot stand here all alone, the entire evening in this stupid manner. Come, you must dance, there are so many agreeable ladies here.”

  Darcy’s eyes wandered over the room, a scowl upon his face. “You exaggerate, Bingley,” he remarked coldly. “You danced with the only pretty woman here.”

  Mr. Bingley’s face broke into a wide smile, brightening his pleasant countenance even more. “Darcy, she is the most bewitching creature I have ever met. But look, look!” he hushed, pointing with his blond head in the direction of Elizabeth. “There is one of her sisters over there. She is very pretty too, and I dare say, very agreeable.”

  Darcy very reluctantly turned his head, and his eyes swept over the second Miss Bennet, who was sitting on the chair nearby. “Tolerable by local standards perhaps, but certainly not attractive enough to tempt me.” He pursed his lips and added impatiently, “Bingley, I am in not humour to entertain ladies slighted by other men. You are wasting your time on me. Return to your lady and enjoy her smiles.”

  Mr. Bingley walked from his grumpy friend, leaving him on his own. Perhaps he was not aware that their conversation had been overheard, not only by the lady in question herself, but by the gentleman standing close to the chair she was sitting on as well.

  Brooke eyed Darcy, who did not move from his place where he was left by his friend. He looked at Miss Bennet with concern. She must have heard everything. Poor girl, to overhear something like this. What a fool Darcy was, a rich and spoiled kid, who most likely had had everything delivered to him on a silver tray since the day he had been born. Was he blind or just too much engrossed in himself to notice how attractive and unique the girl was? Brooke watched as Miss Bennet rose from her place and walked to Miss Lucas. She leaned closer to her friend and whispered something, glancing at Darcy at the same time. Soon both ladies started laughing animatedly, covering their mouths with gloved hands.

  Brooke smiled to himself. Good for her. He more expected her to lose her wits and excuse herself to home earlier after such a blow to her vanity. Most women in her situation would do just that, he believed. She had uncommon courage; he had to admit it. He could only imagine that it was not particularly enjoyable for a young lady to hear she was not good enough for a rich, handsome man with position in the world. Darcy’s blunder would cost him dearly, even if that ninny was not yet aware of it. The man had lost her good opinion forever; she would never look at him in any other way than as most disagreeable man.

  Brooke observed as Miss Lucas’ younger brother walked to Elizabeth, clearly asking her to dance with him. He would gladly have asked her himself, but he was not sure enough of his dancing skills. He had never taken any dance lessons. Such a thing had been simply impossible and even silly in his youth. Although he had had the opportunity to observe many dances in the past few years, he would not risk fumbling, embarrassing himself and his partner. It was a pity he could not dance with her to feel her walking closely past and around him, to touch her hand, feel her warmth and scent, look closely into those fine eyes. The girl had such a fire in her that he was curious how she would do in bed. She was a maiden, and despite her free spirit she seemed to be well guarded and sheltered by her parents. And he was sure, she had never been even kissed properly. She was not the type he had had much to do with in the past, and for certain, his late wife had been far from being a pure maiden. He usually did not fancy inexperience in the bedroom, unlike some of his acquaintances with the fixation over deflowering young virgins, or the whole rather ridiculous notion of being the first. He liked active lovers, women who knew what to do in bed. However, he also knew he would have nothing against making Miss Elizabeth Bennet more knowledgeable in the art of lovemaking.

  ***

  Elizabeth was walking briskly through the fields and meadows, taking the shortest shortcut from Lo
ngbourn to Netherfield. Yesterday morning, her sister Jane had received an invitation from Mr. Bingley’s sisters to dine with them. Her mother had refused her the carriage and simply insisted she go on horseback, despite the rain. Mrs. Bennet hoped Jane would get wet and, consequently, would have to stay at Netherfield overnight, gaining the excellent opportunity to see more of Mr. Bingley. As a result, the notice had come this morning that Jane had developed a serious cold. Elizabeth was angry with her mother for her scheming, and ignoring her protests, she departed to Netherfield on foot first thing after the early breakfast.

  Elizabeth enjoyed taking long walks, as it was her way to rethink everything what was currently happening in her life. It was no different this morning as she hurried through muddy fields, hedges and fences to her sister.

  First of all, with relief, she came to the conclusion that the possibility of the truth about her unconventional very first meeting with Mr. Brooke would leak to the public had diminished completely. News and gossip spread with the admirable speed in Meryton, and if no one had mentioned the matter for the past three weeks, it meant her tree climbing remained known only to her and Mr. Brooke. When she had met him at the Lucases last week, he had spoken with her shortly, focusing on general topics, without even the slightest reference to their first meeting.

  Elizabeth was grateful for this and had put forth her best effort to be nice to Mr. Brooke. She noticed, however, that he seemed to be a bit reluctant, or as her intuition told her, perhaps a bit shy in recommending himself to his new neighbours. She did her best to engage him into conversation with other people. Even though he was pleasant enough, he spoke little, and more often chose the role of being a mere observer, rather than an active participant in the discussion.

  Elizabeth could not help wondering why he was so cautious. She did not doubt his intelligence and sensibility, Still he stayed aside, keeping his distance. Wanting to understand him better, she eagerly listened to everything concerning him at her Aunt Philips’ house or when visiting Lucas Lodge. She had not learned much, apart from the fact that many people had been hired at Purvis Lodge, bringing the house and grounds to a proper order.

  Elizabeth’s mother and her friends tried very hard to evaluate whether Mr. Brooke was perhaps considering entering holy matrimony again, but to their great dismay, they could not determine much about his intentions in this direction. He was being watched closely, but he did not seem to pay any special attention to any lady. True, he had been seen speaking twice with two eldest Miss Bennets and once with Charlotte Lucas, but being at the same time in the company of her younger brother. No matter how much Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet wished for the most affluent man in the neighbourhood to show an interest in one of their daughters, they honestly could not determine his preferences. Moreover, Mr. Brooke did not dance at all with anyone. It was suspected that his wife's demise was a recent one, and he could still be in mourning.

  Elizabeth's mind then moved on to the other two gentlemen, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. To her great delight, Mr. Bingley seemed to be very attentive to Jane. Elizabeth thought very highly of her sister, considering her the most beautiful person in the world, not only in looks, but in character and disposition as well. Elizabeth loved Jane fiercely, and she prayed for her beloved sister to meet a man who would deserve her. She felt that Mr. Bingley could be that man, the one who would make her sister happy. She knew that Jane liked him and was on a straight way to falling in love with him.

  As for his best friend, Mr. Darcy, her feelings were quite the opposite. She could not even understand how it was possible that such a man could have become friends with such a charming, kind and solicitous person as Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth was much affected by Mr. Darcy’s remarks about her more than she would have admitted even to herself. The audacity of the man! She believed her opinion about him was definitely grounded, and she had no intention of changing it in the future. Mr. Darcy was prideful, rude and arrogant, showing no consideration for the feelings of others. It did not help that he was so dashingly handsome. Elizabeth was most vexed with herself because of her violent reaction to the man. Based on what she had read from her father’s library, it was clear that what she felt for him was purely a physical attraction. She could not really understand why her heart started beating faster and her palms started to sweat every single time she saw him. She certainly did not like him, or even respect him.

  He unsettled her. She ignored him the best she could, being conscious not to even look in his direction when they were in the same room. However, it turned out to be a task extremely hard to accomplish, as the man seemed to develop the propensity to stubbornly stare at her every time they were in the same room together. His blank stares only made her more furious, because she knew very well the reason for this peculiar occupation of his. He was looking at her to find some more blemishes in her. Every time Elizabeth caught his dark eyes on her, she wanted to do one thing, simply stick her tongue out at him. Unfortunately, she was not ten years old any longer, as Jane had reasonably pointed out, and such behaviour was not allowed anymore (and for certain it had not been welcomed by her mother when she was a child).

  Elizabeth climbed swiftly over the last fence, ran lightly a few yards forward, and turning to the right on the path leading to the manor, she ran into Mr. Darcy himself. Bumping into his tall frame, she felt him immediately steady her, placing one of his hands on the crook of her arm and the other lightly on her waist.

  She felt the blood running to her face. How could she have not noticed him? She knew very well how this happened. Elizabeth had poor sight, similar to her sister Mary. But as her younger sister wore her glasses with pride, fancying it gave her a certain intellectual air, Elizabeth put them on her shapely nose only as the absolute last resort, not that the glasses were that necessary in her case. She could see everything within a short distance very well, and more importantly, she could read and write without them. Her vision was blurred only when looking at more distant points; no wonder she had not noticed him earlier. Moreover, when lost deep in her thoughts like a moment ago, she had the propensity to temporarily cut herself entirely from reality, being oblivious to what was happening around her.

  “Are you all right, Miss Bennet?” His deep warm baritone rang into her ears, banged into her head, warmly fluttered through her chest and quivered down her stomach. She looked up at Mr. Darcy. He stared intently into her face. His hands did not leave her arm or waist for a long moment. She flashed him an angry look and backed away from him abruptly.

  “I am perfectly all right, sir. Forgive me for having walked into you,” Elizabeth spoke, trying at least to give her voice a pleasant note. But when she saw that he seemed to smile at her, she narrowed her eyes and cried brusquely. “Pray, believe me, it was not my intention! I was lost deep in my thoughts, and I was not looking where I was going.” He still appeared to be smirking at her. “I did not notice you, sir.” She stated firmly.

  “I understand.” He did not cease his staring, but his eyes lowered from her face down her body. She flushed even more and squared her feet apprehensively. He was looking at her muddy skirt and petticoats for sure. She almost gritted her teeth.

  “I came to enquire on the health of my sister.”

  He cocked his bushy brow. “On foot?”

  She rolled her eyes. “As you can see.”

  She noticed him pinching his lips as if trying very hard not to laugh. She almost seethed. She wanted to punch him. “Will you take me to her?” she stated more firmly as a command rather than a request and spirited quickly past him in the direction of the manor, walking the fastest she could. After a few moments, she glanced sideways and saw him just behind her. Being aware of his eyes at the back of her head, she accelerated her pace. Having her bonnet removed just after leaving home (when her mother could not see her from the windows any more) she was perfectly aware that her hair was simply a mess now. Her most ardent wish at that moment was to rid herself of his company.

  ***

&n
bsp; Elizabeth arrived at Netherfield with Mr. Darcy following almost on her heel. She ignored the pointed looks given to her muddy petticoats by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and followed the servant upstairs to where Jane was located in one of the guests’ chambers. To Elizabeth’s great worry, Jane had a fever and a sore throat and was feeling weak and dizzy because of a heavy headache. She knew very well that Jane had been perfectly all right only yesterday and that her sister’s present state was solely the result of travelling on horseback, completely exposed to the rain. Elizabeth was more than angry with her mother for her scheming, for putting Jane’s health into jeopardy; though she was aware it was not Christian to resent one’s own mother.

  Mr. Bingley turned out to be most kind as a host. He sent for the doctor at once and proposed for her to install herself in the room next to Jane’s, which only made Elizabeth like and respect him even more. Elizabeth could not be happier seeing how concerned Mr. Bingley was about her sister’s well-being, and how intently he listened to her reports on Jane’s present state. She felt that he was on a good way to start truly care for Jane.

  For the three days which Elizabeth spent at Netherfield, nursing Jane, her main endeavour was to avoid Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley’s sisters as much as possible. She could congratulate herself on not spending more than three hours a day downstairs, including the meals. She did not care in the slightest what Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst thought of her behaviour. As for Mr. Darcy, the situation was more complicated. The man interchangeably ignored her, not speaking with her at all (which was more than fine with her), or engaged her into conversations, which at the end easily balanced on the verge of a quarrel.