“Then she is missing the height of the Season.”
“Jane does not care for balls and soirees. Indeed, my aunt and uncle seldom go to those functions. She enjoys town’s other amusements such as the theatre.”
“Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to see her if she comes again this year.”
“Jane would call on Miss Bingley, of course. Are you much in their company?”
“Bingley and I frequently meet at our club.”
Uncertain how she felt, she did not reply, and Darcy took advantage of her silence.
“It sounds like your London uncle does quite well.” He nodded to Mr. Phillips. “Your other uncle seems talented in his profession.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy sceptically. “I believe Mr. Bingley arranged his lease through my uncle.”
“He did, and I know Mr. Phillips was very knowledgeable.”
Elizabeth scarcely believed she heard a compliment from Darcy towards her relatives.
“I found my solicitor invaluable when I was dealing with my father’s will.”
Elizabeth turned red in anger but quelled it. It seemed that Darcy admitted to—nay, boasted about—cheating Wickham of the living designed for him!
He seemed to not see her first reaction as he stared at his plate.
“One can learn much from talking to solicitors.”
It was absolutely necessary to speak now. “I imagine you took the time to learn many details.”
“I did, and I think you might learn a lot on how wills are processed as well.”
She could say no more before her mother stood, and the ladies separated. She had no patience for the rest of the evening. When the gentlemen returned, she did not so much as look at Darcy. They did not stay on for supper, owing to their early departure the next day. Elizabeth only regretted that Jane’s remaining hope of meeting Bingley again rested on seeing him in London.
*****
January 7, 1812
“Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst,” Darcy’s London housekeeper announced and Darcy stifled his groan as he stood.
“Ladies, I regret your brother is not here. I believe he was making calls today.”
Always sociable, lately Bingley threw himself into visiting and events with an unprecedented fervour.
Darcy felt the need for solitude more than ever but so far did not care to examine any cause for it.
“Oh, we came to see Georgiana! It was quite necessary for us to leave...” Miss Bingley shot her sister a look, and Mrs. Hurst immediately silenced.
“We only wanted to leave quickly as an impertinent acquaintance called.”
Darcy scrutinised Miss Bingley’s face. There were many people she might suddenly find as unlikeable—or rather of no use—but he only knew her to call Elizabeth impertinent. That seemed unlikely though, as Miss Bennet and not Elizabeth was to be in London, and their dispositions were quite different.
Glancing around the room his eyes fell to the bouquet of roses he suggested Georgiana display in the rooms he frequented. These were red, like the ones in Elizabeth’s hair the night of the Netherfield Ball. Would he ever stop thinking of Elizabeth?
Georgiana soon entered and greeted her ‘friends’. Darcy suppressed a sigh. He really felt he ought to do better by her than resorting to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst as friends. If nothing else and there were certainly a number of something elses, they were quite a bit older than her. Yet, how could he encourage friendships with younger ladies without even more women believing they could become the next Mrs. Darcy? If only she could find a genuine friend with no designs on him.
The ladies chatted for some time before a name caught his attention.
“Did you receive another note from Miss Bennet?” Georgiana asked.
“My dear Georgiana, I cannot understand why you would even care!” Mrs. Hurst declared.
“Brother wrote that she was quite genteel, and Mr. Bingley mentioned her with fondness. But she has been in town for a week now and has not called on you?”
Miss Bingley hastily explained, “No, she has not and I declare it grieves my heart to think of all the kindness I bestowed on her and am now neglected.”
Darcy raised his brow. So Jane Bennet did come to London, and after arriving found better things to do than call on Bingley’s sisters. It did not quite surprise. Mrs. Bennet certainly hoped for a match between her eldest daughter and Bingley, but he never saw anything on the lady’s side to be taken as encouragement, and now she seemed willing to give up the acquaintance entirely.
He noticed the relief on Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley’s faces when the conversation turned. It was clear they did not want to discuss the Bennets in front of him. Likely both were too aware of his recent fascination with Elizabeth. He was beginning to think of their acquaintance with some regret. One regret was that he had been so transparent in his preference for her, and it had raised Miss Bingley’s jealousy more than once.
In due time the visitors left, and Georgiana returned to her lessons. Bingley paid a late call, after dinner, and the two gentlemen sat in the library.
“Bingley, you will exhaust yourself with all this constant going and coming. Whom did you visit today?”
“My old friend from university, Palmer.”
“And does Palmer have a pretty sister?”
“Aye! How did you know?”
“Every time I meet with you I am given a new account of three or four of the prettiest ladies you have ever seen in your life.”
“I am not as bad as that!”
“You have always been a bit flighty with the ladies, but now one can barely keep your interest for an entire dinner party. You must be careful to not gain a reputation.”
“I am no rake!”
“No, but you could easily be taken for one as you do nothing but flatter every lady in the room. Or worse, you could genuinely feel attached to a lady and be refused because she doubts your constancy.”
Bingley did not speak, and Darcy felt the need to press on. He had saved him explicitly from mercenary women before but Bingley never acted thusly.
“Is there a cause for your recent exuberance for society?”
“I know not what I am about. I am tied up in knots by a lady. But that is precisely the type of thing on which you would know nothing.”
Oh, but he did. Not for the first time he wondered if Elizabeth had taken his hints to consult her uncle about wills being ignored. He suspected Wickham told her some variation of Darcy ignoring his father’s will and denying Wickham either money or the valuable living set aside for him. He chose not to answer his friend directly, nor could he speculate who worried his friend. He would wait until Bingley named a lady, like always.
“Come, I daresay she will be forgot easily enough. Especially at the rate you are going, meeting a dozen new ladies a night!”
*****
February 8, 1812
Elizabeth read Jane’s latest letter in anger. Unsurprised by Miss Bingley dropping the acquaintance entirely, their callous treatment of Jane still disgusted her.
Poor Jane! Even she suspected duplicity at this point, but Elizabeth felt less assured than before. As much as she hated to admit it, she found it quite possible Mr. Bingley simply no longer favoured her sister. Of course, that his sisters and friend wished him to marry Miss Darcy there could be no doubt.
She looked out her bedroom window and sighed. The fall had seemed so encouraging and bright. What could be finer than new acquaintances and possible suitors at that time! Instead, Mr. Bingley proved inconstant, Mr. Darcy proved hateful, the ladies proved superior and scheming, and even the militia held little interest to her now.
Wickham’s attentions were over, and she did not feel the loss. Besides having no strong regard on her side, his income was insufficient—due to Darcy. It was prudent that Wickham now attached himself to a lady who recently inherited ten thousand pounds.
Visiting her friend Charlotte brought some anticipation, but Elizabeth expected little pleasure
, knowing her company included Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Sir William and Maria Lucas. Most of the party were known to her, and she had every expectation that Lady Catherine’s condescension would be amusing but soon prove tiresome. Perhaps by having such low hopes the visit would prove more bearable. At least she would be able to see Jane and know for herself that she was not ill over Bingley’s abandonment. She hoped the Gardiners had decided on the details of their summer tour. Tiring of the seaside and perfectly ordered resorts, she longed to see the wildness of the North.
She felt tempted to rearrange the dried flower arrangement before her for the tenth time that day, but did not touch it for fear it would crumble. She missed the sunshine and warmer weather of the past summer and the autumn. Spring seemed interminably far away. She missed her sister’s calming words and her friend’s good sense. For a lingering moment, she thought of how lonely she was with Charlotte married and away and Jane in London for months. But then, Jane never approved of her moods and distrust of others. Charlotte she apparently never understood at all if she could marry Mr. Collins only for such mercenary motives. The sobering truth descended on her. Only the quality of company, not the quantity, would abate the feelings of loneliness.
While many wise people might conclude there must be an error in themselves to make them so deficient, Elizabeth’s pride revolted at the idea. Jane was simply too trusting and Charlotte too practical, and that was all there was to it. Elizabeth remained implacable in her opinion of her own discernment and judgment.
Chapter Two
March 19, 1812
February passed into March without incident and, in due time, Elizabeth arrived at Hunsford. She had seen Jane only for a day, but she seemed well. Her heart might still be broken over Bingley, but her health was not in danger. Having that fear relieved, she was surprised to admit how much she anticipated Kent. She knew Mr. Collins would try her nerves, but to be in the company of Charlotte again would be most agreeable. If nothing else, Rosings would offer a change of scenery.
Two weeks in the frequent company of Lady Catherine passed predictably, all Elizabeth’s fears of little enjoyment having been met, and then interesting news was reported at one dinner. Anything Lady Catherine could say about new visitors would be a welcome relief.
“Mrs. Collins, it is most fortunate your visitors are here at this time of year. They will have quite the pleasure, I am sure, to meet my nephews, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, younger son of my brother, the Earl. They will be arriving in a few days’ time. Anne especially looks forward to their visit each year.”
Mr. Collins interjected. “It will be a pleasure to meet Mr. Darcy again!”
“Meet him again! What do you mean again?”
“I had the privilege to meet him in Hertfordshire, ma’am, while I was staying with my cousins and before I had proposed to my fair Mrs. Collins.”
“You mean to say you have all met Darcy!”
Charlotte looked distressed at Lady Catherine’s displeasure, so Elizabeth intervened. “I am sorry, it is true, your ladyship. He stayed many weeks with his friend who was leasing an estate in the area.”
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth. She could only think the great lady disapproved to hear Mr. Darcy’s friends were not all landed estate owners.
“I am sure it will be a privilege to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth attempted to smooth the situation.
“Yes, I daresay it will,” was all her ladyship would say in reply.
In truth, Elizabeth did think she might enjoy observing how Darcy would meet with his cousin, whom Lady Catherine clearly destined him for.
Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam duly arrived in a further three days and on the following day Mr. Collins rushed back to announce that they were about to call, unexpectedly, at the Parsonage.
“I must thank you for this civility, Eliza. Mr. Darcy would never call so quickly on me,” Charlotte teased her friend.
Elizabeth attempted to correct her, but soon the gentlemen were announced. Darcy barely said a word, but his cousin was very amiable. At length, Darcy managed to ask after the health of Elizabeth’s family. Given this opening, she could not resist discovering if he would betray any knowledge of how the Bingleys had treated Jane.
“My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?”
She was surprised when he answered in a tone of slight reproach. “No, I never had the pleasure of seeing Miss Bennet.” He paused for a moment and added, “I had expected to meet with her after our last conversation at Longbourn, but I did not.”
Elizabeth was confused by his tone and evident annoyance. He spoke no more during the visit, and she was glad for it. Nor did she repine not seeing him for another week, although his cousin did call on the Parsonage more than once during the time.
*****
March 30, 1812
Darcy could hardly believe it. He resisted seeing Elizabeth Bennet all week, yet less than ten minutes in her company and all his vaunted self-control was gone. More than once he felt a nearly irresistible draw to the Parsonage, but he managed to remain master of himself. Something about her presence bewitched him. The danger he felt in Hertfordshire was intensified after knowing how impossible she was to give up.
She was always beautiful, too beautiful for his own peace of mind—her eyes so expressive they revealed the clever working of an active mind—but this evening she was certainly enjoying herself as his cousin flirted with her. Would that it were he, enjoying her smiles! But no, he had learned to suppress anything charming in him long ago.
Lady Catherine interrupted his thoughts. “How does Georgiana get on, Darcy?”
Tearing his eyes away from Elizabeth, he replied to his aunt. “Her music teacher is very pleased with her.”
“She cannot expect to excel without practicing a good deal.”
“I assure you, madam, she does not need the advice. She practices very constantly.”
In fact, it was the only thing that could bring her any amount of peace from her thoughts.
“I have told Miss Bennet she should practice more and, though Mrs. Collins has no instrument, she is very welcome to Rosings each day and practice in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room.”
He could hardly contain his anger at his aunt’s ill-breeding! When they were married, he would be sure Elizabeth was always afforded due respect.
Darcy’s breath caught, and he looked away to hide his discomposure. He was only vaguely aware that the others continued speaking, fortunately without any need for input from him. He was surprised at the vehemence of his resolve a moment ago. He had thought about it before, longed for it, and considered it to be impossible, but at this moment he knew Elizabeth was like a rare wildflower. If he let her go, he may never see the like again.
He knew, too, what he felt for her was not any trifling inclination. To his own mortification, in his youth—when not even of age—he had considered matrimony to a young lady of Society. A visit to a friend’s estate and meeting his attractive sister was nearly his undoing. Her apparent admiration had earned his gratitude, and he had planned to propose after only one month’s acquaintance. She was charming, to be sure, but he saw soon afterwards that she had designed to entrap him while he was so conveniently situated. On the very eve of his meditated proposal, he lost his nerve and left as planned.
He intended to visit again only a few weeks later, to truly state his addresses but found, within a fortnight away from Miss Stanton’s company, that he was no longer bewitched. There were other pretty ladies, others just as charming. Before he could put off his planned return, news of her engagement to the son of a wealthy baronet reached his ears. Their acquaintance was of only three weeks. Since then he had never allowed himself to admit to preferring a lady. He knew the fickleness of infatuation and distrusted the constancy of a woman’s admiration.
Yet, all this logic escaped him entirely with Elizabeth. He was older, wiser and mas
ter of himself and a great estate. He was trusted with the care of hundreds of lives. He wanted Elizabeth for his wife as he had never wanted another. What should stop him but his own contempt for her family? Surely his love for her was enough.
Coffee was over, and Colonel Fitzwilliam pulled himself closely to Elizabeth’s side at the pianoforte. Darcy was surprised his cousin did not ignite under the disapproving glares he sent. Under the guise of querying Elizabeth on some musical matter—for Georgiana’s sake—he was able to break free from his aunt and approach Elizabeth. Her teasing banter was intoxicating; she was finer than the finest wine he had ever drunk, and to know that soon he could have his fill for a lifetime made him happy enough that he did not even mind his cousin’s continued flirting.
She was teasing him again, never mind she addressed the Colonel. “He danced only four dances though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.”
“I had not at that time the honour of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party.” He found it hard to understand, now, why she had been sitting out in the first place. She outshone every woman in the county, every woman he had ever met.
“Shall we ask your cousin the reason of this?” said Elizabeth, still addressing Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Shall we ask him why a man of sense and education, and who has lived in the world, is ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers?”
“I can answer your question,” said Fitzwilliam, “without applying to him. It is because he will not give himself the trouble.”
She was asking about his character again. He would satisfy her this time, allow her to know the true him. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”
One Autumn with Darcy Page 21