Chapter Fourteen
Miss Darcy read and reread her brother’s last letter with an amused and wondering interest. Never in all her life had she known him to devote an entire letter to his relations with women; he rarely went so far as to mention a name, and then, more often than not, only that he might specifically draw her shortcomings to his sister’s attention. Furthermore, he had made no reference at all to the burden under which she herself laboured. Very clearly, to her eyes at least, he found himself embroiled in an emotional tempest of a sort he had never experienced before. This was extremely intriguing to Georgiana; all the more so because she had always hoped to find a true friend and sister through her brother’s marriage. There was no one in their Derbyshire acquaintance, nor yet in their London circle, with whom she shared any bond of affection, and she longed in her heart for such a friend. She knew, given her brother’s character, that any woman who married him for the right reasons would possess a most warm and caring nature, in order to see past his manner and into his heart, and a degree of understanding unusual among her sex, in order to have attracted him and earned his approbation. This gave her to cherish the hope that she might find in such a woman the friend of her heart she longed for. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, it appeared from his letters, had all this and more, and, to a sister’s eye, his letters made it clear that he was already closer to an attachment than he had ever been before. A review of his previous letters showed nothing to injure this conclusion.
Her own troubled heart was eased considerably by imagining her brother happily married. She had come close at times to believing him too much alone, as he always seemed to stand outside of his circle and observe it, rather than to be a part of it—and might have been inclined to believed it the more had she not been restrained by her respect for him from presuming to pass judgment on his actions. His letters to her in the past were filled with his observations and opinions on his acquaintance, but rarely gave her to feel that he had any real partiality, aside from Mr. Bingley, for those who peopled his world. His manner of speaking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, therefore, captured her attention most particularly. He had said that he admired her countenance, so she must be pretty; not too pretty, she hoped, for she knew that he had spurned women who were renowned for their form and features. Was Miss Bennet a Helen of Troy, then, to have thus drawn his interest? She considered it, but decided at length to believe otherwise; he spoke rather more of her mind and heart than of her appearance. She was pleased with this conclusion, as she had no desire to find herself related to a woman with such perfection of form; and she had rather that her brother’s love have as its foundation the less superficial aspects of his beloved’s nature. His own description of her had been “sincere”, “witty”, “charming”, and “warm”, as well as “amiable” and “modest”; had she set out to list those attributes most desirable in his wife and her sister, it could not have differed greatly from this. She could not understand, however, why he should object to her family. That he might wish to avoid so hazardous an undertaking as falling in love, she could understand—that was common enough amongst his sex; but he was so completely rational and honest that she could hardly imagine that he could so deceive himself with regard to his true motives as to hide them behind false objections. She resolved to do what was in her power to relieve his mind and minimise whatever difficulties he was imagining.
Miss Bingley, on the other hand, presented a real and immediate problem. While a description of her character would be very different from that for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she was by no means a bad sort of person—but she was a most determined one. Georgiana could well imagine that she might finally achieve her goal simply by dint of her determination. Well, her brother had left open an enquiry as to what he might best do about her, and Georgiana had been privy to a side of her about which he might have need of knowing.
Pemberley,
November 17, —
Dearest Fitzwilliam,
Thank you for your letter of the 15th; I find your descriptions of what passes at Netherfield a most welcome diversion. What you write about Miss Bingley, unfortunately, does not surprise me as much as it should; in all truth I must confess that I have found in her an unfortunate tendency towards assurance, self-indulgence, and a certain coarseness of feeling; I hope you will forgive me for speaking so of some one of your acquaintance, but I believe this to be a very serious matter, and I would have you know what I know. I have heard her speaking with her sister in unguarded moments when there were no members of the opposite sex present, and observed in her a most…pragmatic…view of men. She counts herself amongst the most eligible women in London Society, and she is bent on making a “conquest worthy of her qualities,” to use her expression; it would appear that she finds you worthy. I need hardly say, Brother, but be most circumspect. She is capable of ploys that make me blush to contemplate. Time, and an adherence to absolute propriety, will eventually discourage her, as she knows that youth is fleeting, and desires to make her “conquest” before her bloom is gone.
But let me pass on to a more agreeable topic: I am most desirous of knowing more of Miss Elizabeth Bennet; what you have written interests me greatly. Brother, you have confused me exceedingly, for you say on the one hand that she is all that is amiable, and on the other that any connection with her family is unthinkable; yet you have never said why. As you know, I am forced to conclude that she is a gentleman’s daughter, by her inclusion in the Netherfield family circle. What, then, is the impediment? You have mentioned her nonsensical mother, but it cannot be this, because, well…Good Heavens, if one were to name all of the nonsensical mothers in London, or in Derbyshire, for that matter—and most certainly in Kent—the list would be formidable, indeed.
And I am very troubled to hear that you will leave before the ball; pray do not—please? We shall be amply prepared for our relations’ visit without your hurrying your departure. Will you not stay to dance with Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I would have you do so, dear Brother, truly I would. It would be a shame indeed if you were to lose her acquaintance forever without ever once having danced with her.
I have already begun preparations for our removal to Town. Mrs. Annesley and I have discussed what is needful, and have already planned several possible entertainments for the time our family is all together; so you see, Fitzwilliam, there is no need for you to hurry your return.
I shall hope to hear that you have changed your mind, and decided to stay, when I receive your next letter.
Your affectionate sister,
Georgiana Darcy
Chapter Fifteen
The morning after his unhappy illumination regarding his feelings and obligations towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy heard that the Bennet ladies were to return home on the day following; he met the news with a mixture of regret and relief. He knew himself well enough to know that, once he had arrived at a conclusion, there could be no second thoughts: that he must relinquish Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s acquaintance did not admit a doubt. Yet the difficulty of maintaining a proper distance from her would be very trying under their current circumstances. In the presence of the others at breakfast, where there was no want of conversation, he had no difficulty in maintaining his self-command; his mannerly resolve was sorely tested at one point later in the morning, however, as he was seated in the library before the Netherfield ledgers. She came in search of something to read, but beyond the introductory civilities, neither of them spoke for the half-an-hour or more she remained there. Darcy congratulated himself on his success, and his confidence in his strength increased; he was curiously aware, however, of the scent of flowers that followed her about and lingered even long after she was gone; and, unaccountably, he was able to get very little forward with his work. At length he gave up on the tallies and figures and went out of doors to clear his mind. Upon re-entering the Hall he exerted his vigilance for the remainder of the day, and, by the simple expedience of being constantly aware of Elizabeth’s whereabouts, contrived never to be alo
ne with her again. He thereby managed to regain his chambers in the evening without having spoken a dozen words to her altogether throughout the day: he again congratulated himself on having held so firmly to his resolve. He wrote to his sister, relating how he had spent his day, but, upon review, the letter seemed to convey the idea that he had done nothing other than follow Miss Elizabeth Bennet about the Hall all day. He therefore re-wrote it, giving what he deemed to be a more accurate, albeit brief, summation of his activities, and focused in the main on their plans for the Christmas holidays.
The next day was Sunday, and following Morning Services the two Bennet ladies left Netherfield. Miss Bennet smiled sweetly on one and all as she bid them adieu, thanking every one most sincerely for the many kindnesses she had received. Bingley, ever solicitous, made sure she was well supplied with rugs and warm bricks to fortify her against the rigours and inclemency of her three-mile journey back to Longbourn. Miss Elizabeth Bennet seemed in fine spirits at their departure; Darcy wondered at her joy in returning to her mother, but, after all, home is home, and must take precedence in the heart over any other place. Darcy hardly knew how to be sad they were gone, yet he watched their carriage longer than any one else in the party save Bingley himself. The two men turned and walked into the house together, though neither found anything to say to the other.
Chapter Sixteen
The following Wednesday, Miss Darcy had been occupied in the early portion of the morning going over her brother’s letters once again. In each one she could discover evidence of an increasing attraction for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. In his first he had dwelt at length on her own concerns, and she had been mentioned only in one brief line—although that line had been sufficiently marked in its approval of her as to have caught Georgiana’s particular attention, even at the time. In the second, however, she saw such remarkable distinction of Miss Elizabeth Bennet as to quite amaze her. And by the third he made no mention of her own cares at all; it was nothing but his attitudes and actions regarding Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Bingley. Never, never had she seen her brother thus absorbed in his relations with women, even briefly, and she was certain that his being so vexed with Miss Bingley was no more than the reflection of his regard for Miss Elizabeth Bennet; it was her presence that made him so aware of Miss Bingley’s impertinence and importunities, and the injury done Miss Elizabeth Bennet by her jealous behaviour was what had brought into importance Miss Bingley’s feelings towards himself.
Taken all together, she was persuaded that her brother was in a fair way to being in love, and that persuasion did more than months of repentance and solitude had done to unburden her heart. Having this object to think of and plan for had, without her realising, quite nearly removed the man who betrayed her from her thoughts. Her great desire for a sister and friend, in whom she could confide and share the daily affairs of her own sex, was forming itself more and more around the vision she had created of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and had quite set aside her own cares. She read and re-read every line in which her brother spoke of her, trying to divine from the very shape of his script every last scrap of meaning and intelligence about a woman who might, perhaps, become that sister and friend. In so doing she found two things to trouble her: why did she refuse to dance with him, and, most distressingly, why was he so insistent that there could be no alliance with her?
That he should wish to dance with her was, on the face of it, an obvious sign of the acuteness of his interest; she was well aware that he rarely danced, and then only with some one of close and long-standing acquaintance. She could not bring to mind any occasion on which he had willingly engaged the hand of a lady he had known weeks only. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of course, could hardly know this, and so the distinction would be lost on her, but still—why should she refuse him? Miss Darcy was aware that her brother was wont to occasionally speak his mind without thought for those around him. That he might have in some way offended her unconsciously was a disturbing possibility, but Georgiana could not see how it might be remedied, or, indeed, how she might even ascertain it had occurred, without offending her brother in turn, by asking if he might have done so.
As to the second matter of concern, that he was so opposed to the idea of an alliance, she could see no compelling support for his conclusion, that the Bennets could not be accepted as relations; she poured over his letters again and again, searching in vain for the reason. The mother, certainly, did not sound desirable, but this she could not view as sufficient reason to deny the possibility of liaison between their families; Georgiana, even in her limited experience, knew that few families could boast of being free of provoking relations. Her own aunt, Lady Catherine, was as difficult and unreasonable as any one she could imagine, yet no one could take exception to her as a connection. No, she was persuaded rather that her brother was raising barriers on purpose to prevent his emotions from influencing him; he, who so resolutely held that the intellect alone ought to govern one’s life, was not one to let his feelings gain ascendancy over him. In his last letter he had taken particular care to mention that he had gone through an entire day without having spoken to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at all; this, she was convinced, was exactly what he would do if he felt his sentiments beginning to overset his more rational faculties.
She had still another concern. In earlier letters he had made mention of the possibility of his returning home before Mr. Bingley’s ball, but in this last letter he had spoken of it with more certainty; this was disturbing in the extreme. The only way Georgiana could see that he might finally be led in the direction of his best interests and her wishes was if he were to be exposed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s company long enough for her charms to overcome his habitual distrust of his sensibilities. She must somehow convince him to remain.
She had just reached this conclusion when a knock at the door announced Mrs. Annesley. The good lady smiled at the papers spread about Miss Darcy on the sofa and observed: “You are making quite a study of those letters, Miss Darcy, dear. I had not known before that Hertfordshire was such a captivating destination. Is your brother’s visit there so fascinating, then?”
Miss Darcy smiled in return, saying, “In some ways, it is, indeed. But only to a sister’s heart; to no one else would they hold such interest.” She folded them up and tucked them away in the desk.
“Well, then, you will be glad of this,” said Mrs. Annesley, drawing forth a letter from her pocket. “It is from Mr. Darcy.”
Georgiana rose instantly and went to take it from her. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Annesley! I had hoped there might be something in the morning post.”
“You are very fortunate to have a brother who is such a dependable correspondent; I do not think many sisters could boast of such.”
“I am indeed; and that is the least of his goodness. Their contents are more valuable still.”
“They certainly seem to have done you good, my dear; you seem happier now than at any time since I came into Derbyshire. If his letters be the cause, then I pray that his stay in Hertfordshire will be a long one.” She smiled again and quietly left the room.
Miss Darcy, somewhat surprised at this comment, decided on reflection that it was true; indeed, she had not thought of her troubles, or her betrayer, all morning. While still wondering that this should be true, she hastily opened the seal.
Netherfield
November 17, —
Dearest Georgiana,
I am rather fatigued, as the time to-day seemed to drag on interminably, so this will be shorter than I might wish. The Misses Bennet left us to-day after Morning Services, and the effort to maintain a decent level of conversation in their absence has been painfully great. Bingley was, of course, much saddened by Miss Bennet’s departure, which left his spirits low. Miss Bingley, on the other hand, was in very high spirits indeed after they left, but her conversation I found to be monotonous, as she never wavered from heaping scorn and abuse on her two erstwhile guests.
Will it surprise you, Dearest, if I tell you
that I found myself on the verge of an attraction for Miss Elizabeth Bennet? It is true. But be assured; I may have loosed the reins, but I did not fall off. I was most careful to shield her from any knowledge of my interest; I never even took her hand for a dance—no, that is not entirely accurate: rather, I would have to admit that she never accepted my hand for a dance—but perhaps I might have mentioned that before. In any event, she is gone, and I am reasonably well assured that she has no idea of having ever excited my esteem.
I must say, though, now she is no longer before me, that it has occurred to me to wonder at the fact that, after so many Seasons in London, the only woman ever to have captured my attention should be so impossibly distant from me in standing. Why, of the literally hundreds of women to whom I have been introduced, should the only one whose acquaintance is worth the having—for me, personally, that is—be so little esteemed in the eyes of Society? It puzzles me; upon my honour, it does puzzle me.
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