by Ola Wegner
“I see.” Mr. Bennet took the glass of wine from the passing servant. “I cannot say I am rejoiced to hear this,” he proclaimed after taking a sip.
“Mr. Bennet, I think that I do understand your concerns as a father, but I am a serious man, and I am perfectly able to support a family.” Brooke spoke nervously. He had not perceived such a turn of the conversation. Mr. Bennet’s eyes were wandering all over the room, not meeting the other man’s gaze directly, which only made Brooke more uneasy. Elizabeth’s father seemed to act as if he had been speaking of some inconsequential, indifferent matter, not about his favourite daughter’s possible future.
“I have not said this against you, Mr. Brooke,” Mr. Bennet spoke after a while. “I may not know you very well, but you seem to have more sense than most of my acquaintances. But, you see, Elizabeth is my beloved little girl. Consequently, it is extremely hard for me to accept the fact that she will one day be taken from me by some man, that she will put this man first before me.”
“Is it not a natural course of life, Mr. Bennet?”
“You will understand me one day when having a daughter.” Mr. Bennet turned to his companion at last, looking straight into his face now. “Mr. Brooke, it is not my intention to do anything which could promote her leaving my home any time soon and getting married to any man. Unless of course…”
Brooke’s eyes narrowed. “Unless?”
“Unless she wants to have you. You understand what my meaning is? Unless she will be determined to be bound to you. But I can tell you even now, the chances are small for that,” Mr. Bennet pronounced flatly, looking pointedly across the room at Elizabeth laughing animatedly at something Mr. Wickham was telling her, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed.
“Perhaps you should set your eyes on someone closer your age,” Mr. Bennet advised before nodding his head slightly and walking away to talk with Sir William Lucas.
***
“That was a very pleasant evening, was it not, Lizzy?” Jane asked, unpinning her long hair while sitting in front of her vanity.
“Yes, that is true.” Elizabeth arranged herself on her sister’s bed, her knees hugged to her chest, her chin supported on them. “It is only a shame Mr. Bingley did not attend.”
“I wonder why. Aunt Philips ensured me he received the invitation.” Jane met her younger sister’s gaze in the mirror.
“I think it is all his sisters’, and of course, Mr. Darcy’s, doing” Elizabeth observed. “They all think us to be inferior to them.”
“Lizzy, I am sure it is not like that. Perhaps they had some other reason not to attend, or a prior engagement,” Jane spoke gently.
Elizabeth scrambled out of bed and walked to her sister’s side. “Oh, Jane you are too good. You always think so well of everyone.” She took the hair brush and started combing through Jane’s thick long hair. “Have you forgotten what Mr. Darcy said about me? I am sure that is his opinion about our entire family, relation and acquaintances. As for Mr. Bingley’s sisters, you cannot deny that Miss Bingley clearly hopes to become Mrs. Darcy in the future. She tries so very hard to engage his attention, fawning over him all the time and agreeing with everything he says. Consequently, she will support him in everything.”
“I found Caroline quite pleasant and amiable, Lizzy.”
“I think she is amiable only when she wants to be, when she see some advantage for herself in it. And I feel that Mr. Darcy is not a good man at all. I cannot believe him to be friends with Mr. Bingley.” Elizabeth wanted to say she was afraid Mr. Darcy could influence his friend to discourage him in his attentions to Jane, but she stayed silent, not wanting to upset her.
“Lizzy, I agree that Mr. Darcy is rather reserved, and perhaps a bit too prideful, and he should certainly guard his tongue more, but it is perhaps too little to consider him a bad man,” Jane admonished gently.
“Jane, you will change your opinion upon hearing what Mr. Wickham told me about Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Wickham?” Jane looked up at Elizabeth. “The officer you talked to for so long?”
“Yes, Jane. Apparently he knows Mr. Darcy very well, and I think Mr. Wickham is the main reason why Mr. Darcy did not attend tonight.”
“How can that be?” Jane turned on the stool, her eyes wide and curious.
Elizabeth took the chair and sat in front of her sister. “Mr. Wickham told me that his father was a steward at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy’s family estate, when Mr. Darcy’s father was alive. Clearly the old Mr. Darcy was very fond of Mr. Wickham. He was Mr. Wickham’s godfather. He sent him to school and promised a living in the future, a parsonage at the village of Kympton. But after his father’s premature death, Mr. Darcy, probably jealous of the affection the old Mr. Darcy had for Mr. Wickham, flatly refused the long promised living, consequently reducing Mr. Wickham to near poverty and making him seek his luck in professions other than the church.”
Jane stayed silent for a while after her sister finished her tale. At last she spoke, her delicate eyebrows creased. “Lizzy, I am not entirely sure about this history Mr. Wickham told you. I doubt Mr. Bingley could be friends with such a man, the man who would have been able to deliberately defy his late father’s wish, ruining someone else’s future through his actions. There is something wrong in this.” Jane shook her head. “I think we need more proof to give faith into Mr. Wickham’s story about Mr. Darcy.”
“I have all the proof I need,” Elizabeth spoke confidently. “I saw the way Mr. Darcy looked at Mr. Wickham in Meryton. Jane, there was such a vengeance in his eyes.”
Jane turned her head to the side, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But, Lizzy, is it not strange that Mr. Wickham told you all this in the first place? Why did he do that? I think it is unusual at least to inform on the subject of one’s misfortunes to a complete stranger.”
“Perhaps he needs some sympathy, somebody who would listen to him?”
Jane looked up at her sister’s searchingly. “Mr. Wickham is a very attractive man, is he not? Good looks and engaging manners, that is a rare combination, I dare say. He paid a lot attention to you, Lizzy. It must have been a pleasant feeling.”
“Well, it was a pleasant feeling indeed,” Elizabeth admitted reluctantly but with a small smile playing on her lips.
“What about Mr. Darcy?” Jane enquired tentatively.
“What about him?” Elizabeth spoke brusquely, shrugging her arms dismissively.
“Lizzy, I am not blind. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him, the other day when we met the gentlemen from Netherfield in Meryton.’
Elizabeth stood up abruptly and started pacing the floor in front of her sister. “Oh, Jane! I am so displeased with myself for the way I react to him every time I see him.” She threw her hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I cannot understand the feelings he evokes in me. I cannot understand myself. I do not like him, and I do not want to like him! I do not want to care what he thinks of me, or if he thinks at all. I simply must bury this inside myself. Thankfully, after what I was told about him from Mr. Wickham, I think it will not be difficult at all.”
Jane walked over to Elizabeth and, being considerably taller, drew her to herself, placing her sister’s head on her shoulder. “Lizzy, just promise me to be cautious and keep your eyes wide open when it comes to both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. I do not want you to be hurt, dear sister.”
Chapter Five
Elizabeth stared critically at her own reflection in the vanity mirror. Not all of her youngest sister’s ideas were bad after all. Lydia had found the hairstyle in a magazine borrowed from Aunt Philips, insisting that Elizabeth should arrange her hair this way for the upcoming ball at Netherfield. Elizabeth glanced at herself once again. She had to admit she looked truly pretty. Additionally, her face did not seem so thin in the new coiffure.
Standing up, she walked to the floor length mirror. She turned around, checking whether her dress looked good, but everything seemed to fit perfectly. If only she had a more womanly figu
re! Lydia and Kitty, though much younger than she, already had more womanly shapes. Elizabeth was afraid that she would always stay like this, with a body of a ten year old lad. Her mother had said many times that she would probably gain a fuller figure only after giving birth. Hopefully, the new dress she was to wear today for the first time was stitched under the bosom in such a manner as to create the impression it was fuller than it really was.
“Lizzy! Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet's high pitched voice was heard from downstairs.
Elizabeth grabbed her gloves and an elegant ivory cape, leaving her room hastily.
“I am coming, Mama,” she cried, running down the stairs.
“We are only waiting for you, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet scolded her. “Do you want us to be late? Do you, do you?”
“I am sorry, Mama. I have lost sense of the time.”
Mrs. Bennet only rolled her eyes, replying nothing to Elizabeth’s last words. She directed herself to the library to fetch her husband, who, though already dressed for the evening, had decided to sequester himself there till all his women folk were ready to go.
Elizabeth exchanged the amused look with Jane, seeing her parents leaving the library a moment later, or rather, to be precise, her mother dragging her father out of it.
“Do I really have to attend tonight?” Mr. Bennet asked meekly with the expression of martyrdom on his face.
“Of course you have to attend!” His wife hissed sharply, smoothing the lapels of his black evening coat. “This is perhaps the most important evening in the life of at least one of your daughters. What if Mr. Bingley decides to propose to Jane? You have to be there to give your consent.”
Mrs. Bennet left her husband's attire in peace and walked over to examine the appearance of her daughters, who were standing in a line next to the staircase.
Mr. Bennet walked to Elizabeth. “You look very lovely, my dear.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth smiled. “You look very handsome yourself.”
Mr. Bennet waved his hand dismissively at the compliment. “I am only afraid that I will not be the only man tonight to notice how charming you are,” he said somewhat sadly, his voice resigned.
“Papa,…” Elizabeth started to speak, but stopped as the only too familiar of late, truly unique smell came to envelop her. Mr. Collins was just behind her, leaning over her shoulder.
“Fair cousin, Elizabeth, you look extremely charming tonight.” Mr. Collins gave her a half smile and waggled his bushy eyebrows in what Elizabeth presumed was intended to be a seductive manner. “You are like a spring day on this cold November evening, like a little lark which lightens our vision with its bright feathers, like the Grecian goddess who stepped down on this mortal vale of tears to enlighten our existence” Mr. Collins spoke, almost forcibly taking her cape from her and putting it on her.
“I thank you, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth murmured, concentrating on breathing through her mouth, instead of her nose. She was sure her cousin had used some new scent today, but, at the same time, clearly had neglected to bathe. It was a blessing she had eaten little today, or she would be afraid of its returning. Mr. Collins stepped toward her decidedly again, flashing an inviting smile. Elizabeth stared at the parson’s teeth, seeing there, clearly, a trace of vegetable from their early, light dinner.
“Let me help you to put those gloves on your lovely little hands.” Mr. Collins snatched her gloves from her hand and, grabbing one of her hands, bent his head, sucking his wet lips to the top of her palm. Feeling an unpleasant wetness on her skin, she stopped her eyes on the top of Mr. Collins bent head, noticing the emerging bald spot for the first time.
“I think that is quite enough, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth heard her father’s voice behind her and saw Mr. Collins was gently, but decidedly, pushed away from her by Mr. Bennet.
“My daughter is perfectly capable of putting on her own gloves,” Mr. Bennet said sharply, handing Elizabeth her gloves after retrieving them from the parson.
Elizabeth thanked her father wordlessly with her eyes for his assistance and walked hastily to Jane’s side. Having finished putting on her gloves, she thought whether she more anticipated or, perhaps, dreaded this evening. The fact that she had promised to dance the first two dances with Mr. Collins definitely deflated her spirits. She only hoped he would keep his distance from her, Otherwise she could faint simply by inhaling his aromas. Although her cousin praised himself on his dancing skills, and especially on the lightness of foot, Elizabeth seriously doubted his accomplishment in the area. His usual heavy walk and the propensity of bumping into the furniture made it difficult to imagine him as a good dancer.
Fortunately, after the torture of the first two dances, she would be free to dance with someone much more amiable, like Mr. Wickham, for instance. Since the evening at the Philipses’ she had met him twice, and each time, he was all charm and politeness. Elizabeth had enjoyed his attentions. It was definitely an uplifting feeling that he seemed to find her company more agreeable than her younger sisters’ or even Jane’s. Moreover, he did not ignore her like a certain gentleman did, but always looked for the immediate place by her side, often sharing his life’s stories with her. Mr. Wickham had talked to her extensively about Derbyshire and the vast Pemberley estate where he had grown up. He had not acknowledged it directly, but she easily guessed that his father had been much more than just a steward there. The old Mr. Wickham seemed to have all but run the estate by himself, being the one responsible for its grandness and richness. Elizabeth perceived, as well, that Mr. Wickham had hoped in the past to continue his father’s life work, which, of course, had turned out to be quite impossible due to a certain person’s selfish actions and petty-mindedness.
As for Mr. Darcy himself, Elizabeth firmly decided not to pay even the slightest attention to the man. She would ignore him and do her best to put an end to this irritating infatuation she seemed to somehow have developed for the man.
With their arrival at Netherfield, Elizabeth and Jane squeezed their hands and exchanged excited looks. Soon Jane was engaged by Mr. Bingley, who seemed only to be waiting for her to arrive, standing in anticipation near the entrance to the main ballroom. Elizabeth left Jane with Mr. Bingley and walked into the crowded room, standing on her tiptoes and narrowing her eyes to see better. Bringing her eyeglasses today was understandably out of question, but having a few inches more height would sometimes be very helpful. She did a little hop in an attempt to see over the head of Colonel Forster’s wife, who had adorned her head with three feathers tonight.
“Looking for someone, Miss Bennet?” the male voice behind her asked. Mr. Darcy, of course. She did not even have to turn around to know it was he. She would probably have recognized the deep, slightly throaty baritone anywhere, not to mention the shivers which ran up and down her spine clearly indicating his presence.
“Mr. Darcy.” She turned around, greeting him coolly, without a smile.
He stared at her as usual, and she raised her brow at him in a challenge. And he…. Elizabeth took a closer look at his face, yes, he smiled, shaking his head a bit at her.
“You look very lovely tonight, Miss Bennet,” he spoke at last, and Elizabeth’s breath was taken away by his warm tone. He leaned slightly into her, and the volume of his voice dropped considerably, so she could barely hear him. “Beautiful, I would say.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, and without giving a second thought to what she was to say, in a moment, the words came out. “Beautiful you say, but only by the local standards, I am sure.” Darcy eyes widened and he flushed. Elizabeth enjoyed herself for a long moment, observing his dumbfounded, embarrassed expression. He was closing and opening his mouth interchangeably as if trying to say something.
“Would you not agree, Mr. Darcy?” she said harshly, and not waiting for his reply, she added hastily. “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy, but I see my friend Miss Lucas.”
She left him alone and did not glance back at him at all until she reached Charlotte.
&n
bsp; “Lizzy!” Charlotte kissed her cheek and clasped her hands into hers. “What did you say to Mr. Darcy?” she whispered into her ear. “He looks almost devastated standing all alone on the exact spot where you left him.”
“He does?” Elizabeth turned her head slightly and glanced with the corner of her eye at the tall man.
“Yes, Lizzy, like an abandoned puppy.”
Elizabeth laughed shortly. “Oh, Charlotte. A puppy? Please.” She rolled her eyes.
“What happened?”
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing. I just delicately let him know what I think of him.”
Charlotte furrowed her forehead and spoke earnestly. “Elizabeth, be reasonable. It does not happen every day that a man with wealth, position in the world and intelligence pays attention to you.”
Elizabeth only lifted her chin higher in reply to her friend’s words and changed the subject. “Have you seen Mr. Wickham?”
“Mr. Wickham is not here today,” Charlotte spoke confidentially, leaning into her. “I spoke with Mr. Denny earlier, and he told me Mr. Wickham could not attend tonight as he was detained by some urgent business in town.”
“Urgent business in town!” Elizabeth cried, narrowing her eyes and tightening her lips. “I cannot believe it, Charlotte. I am sure it is all Mr. Darcy’s doing. He must have convinced Mr. Bingley not to invite Mr. Wickham at all.”
“Lizzy, that cannot be true,” Charlotte whispered with energy. “Mr. Bingley invited all the officers, after all. Moreover, I do not think you should give so much faith to that woeful story which Mr. Wickham delivered to us. Mr. Darcy is a respectable man with position in the world, and the whole story may very well look different from his point of view. Perhaps Mr. Wickham tried in some way to abuse his father’s friendship with the old Mr. Darcy.”
“Charlotte, how can you say this?” Elizabeth cried with a force. “There was truth in Mr. Wickham’s words, in his every expression. I think that…” She wanted to say it was surely all entirely Mr. Darcy’s fault, but Charlotte grabbed her hand almost painfully, squeezing it. “Elizabeth, you must see reason. Do not be so obstinate! By ignoring Mr. Darcy, you may lose the best match that might ever happen to you.”