by J P Christy
“But you do not regret your opinion,” Darcy said.
“No.”
“Good. There is nothing I can learn from someone who always agrees with me.” In relieved silence, they walked back to the horses, and when Darcy lifted Elizabeth onto Molly’s saddle, each felt a sense of resolution to their conversation. Upon their return to Longbourn, Molly stayed in the Bennet’s stable for another night while the Darcys raced back to Netherfield and Fitzwilliam tested the limits of the curricle.
25
“You are making a scene!”
While Kitty and Elizabeth toured the neighborhood with their friends, Mr. Bennet sat in the garden at Longbourn, discussing with Lydia her most recent assignment, a chapter from Niccolò Machiavelli’s “The Prince.” Following that conversation, Lydia offered her father a carefully written page describing her progress in reforming her character and explaining why she should be allowed to attend tomorrow’s assembly.
Mr. Bennet read it twice before commenting. “I do not know whether your handwriting is improving, or I have simply become accustomed to it.”
“Surely more than my handwriting has improved.”
“When I assigned the chapter, I wondered whether you would see the book as a satire or a study in how to obtain power.”
“It is a satire?” Lydia asked unhappily.
“So some have suggested. Daughter, I appreciate your effort to be less demanding and less loud, but my neglect of your development was not the work of week. Nor do I believe your conscience is sufficiently engaged for you to understand why your behavior is often unacceptable. If you were to attend the assembly tomorrow, you would be as boisterous as ever before the end of the evening.”
“I believe you are wrong!” Lydia shrieked, leaping to her feet.
“Do you hear yourself at this moment, my girl?”
“You want me to be the only female of my age who isn’t out in Meryton society!”
“I want for your well-behaved, long-suffering sisters to have a social evening in which they are not embarrassed by your antics. I owe them this much.”
“Am I to be all alone at Longbourn?” Lydia asked tearfully.
“You know I do not care for assemblies; I shall be here. Now, go read the etiquette book in its entirety by Monday; it is a slim volume. The maid will bring you a dinner tray at the usual time.”
≈≈≈
That evening at dinner, Jane and Mary spoke of their visits with the Morgans and the Laidlaws, and Kitty spoke of how much she liked riding in the curricle. When Mr. Bennet mentioned to Elizabeth that she seemed unusually quiet, she merely smiled and shrugged. “I am enjoying listening to my sisters.”
In truth, she barely heard a word they said. Instead, she was recalling Georgiana’s words:
You fascinate him, Elizabeth …. Brother is drawn
to you as he has never been drawn to any lady.
I think it unsettles him, and he does not know how
to behave. I believe you are unsettled….
I know he admires you greatly.
The mad whirl of her thoughts left Elizabeth both agitated and exhausted. Am I a curiosity to him? Am I merely a lady whom he wishes to understand before he chooses a wife from his social circle. I cannot hang my hopes on the possibility that his fascination is the same as love, for he has made no such declaration since his return. And beyond what he might feel for me, what do I feel for him? When he does not hide behind his stone face, as Georgiana calls it, I esteem him. He makes me laugh, and his conversation is well-informed. And when he touches me, I feel … a very pleasant excitement. Is this love? How shall I know?
≈≈≈
June 15, 1811
Throughout much of Saturday, Lydia managed to express her unhappiness by making all manner of thumping and stomping noises. At last, Mrs. Bennet declared her nerves could bear no more, so Mr. Bennet agreed she could take their youngest to stay the night with Mrs. Phillips, but he insisted that Lydia remain indoors there and that Mrs. Bennet remain with her.
For Lydia, being at her aunt’s home at the edge of Meryton was preferable to being in own her room a mile away. However, Mrs. Bennet realized too late that this arrangement would deny her the opportunity to discuss with her neighbors her expectations regarding Mr. Bingley and Jane. But when her efforts to change her husband’s mind came to naught, she took comfort in knowing she would speak with her neighbors at church in the morning.
Upon arriving at her sister’s house, Mrs. Bennet declared at least once an hour, “Oh, the sacrifices I make for my children!” Mrs. Phillips, who had decided that under the circumstances, she could not go the assembly either, was less sympathetic than either her sister or her niece had hoped.
≈≈≈
Sitting at the mirror on Saturday evening, Elizabeth watched as her favorite sister considered the two dresses draped on the bed. “You must decide within the hour, Jane, or we will be late. Wear the new one you got in London. No one here has seen it.”
Jane touched the dress wistfully. “It seems too elegant for Meryton. People might believe I am acting above my company.”
“Oh, Jane, do you like it? Does it make you feel pretty?”
“Yes to both of those things.”
“Then why let the opinions—the possible opinions—of others dictate your choice?”
“You are right. Now, what will you wear?”
Elizabeth sighed. “How many assemblies have we attended since we came out? Me, four years ago; you, almost five years.”
“Five years,” Jane groaned. “Oh, do not remind me!”
“Well, it is not a fault to be laid at our feet that there are so few marriageable men about, what with the war on the Continent. Remember our shock when Mr. and Mrs. Purvis told us of their loss. We had always believed their son would return.”
Jane’s eyes met Elizabeth’s in the mirror. “We believed the same of both Crawford boys. And those are just the losses in our little corner of England.”
“We Bennets have no large dowries or exalted connections. We have only ourselves to recommend us. Is that enough?”
“I refuse to lament what I cannot control, Lizzy. Consider this: despite my paltry dowry and my relations in trade, Mr. Bingley has returned, insisting he is here to win my hand. And I believe him.” She added in a mock-serious tone, “But woe be to Mr. Charles Bingley should he disappoint me again!”
“I am happy to hear you say so!”
≈≈≈
The inhabitants of Meryton enjoyed dancing, so the town’s assemblies were always well attended. To Elizabeth’s delight, the attendees included both Darcys, and she greeted them warmly. “I am very happy to see you.”
Darcy bowed over her hand. “I could not let my sister come without me,” he said gravely, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I will dance the first set with Georgiana, but may I dance the second and the last sets with you, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I look forward to it,” she assured him.
Despite Elizabeth’s dour musings, the evening was enjoyed by everyone from Longbourn and Netherfield. For Kitty, there was no Lydia with whom to complete. For Mary, there was Mr. Ainsworth; also, her sisters had provided their fashion expertise and softened her typically severe hairstyle with curls. For Georgiana, here was a place where she could dance to her heart’s delight, far from the tittering tongues of the ton. As for Jane, not only did she dance with the gentleman she preferred above all others, she showed Meryton that her faith in Bingley was vindicated.
The gentlemen also enjoyed their evening. For Fitzwilliam, the assembly was a pleasant change from the usual activities of billiards and brandy; he was a fine dancer and a popular partner. For Bingley, there was no mistaking Jane’s affection for him; his only concern was whether he had gained her trust.
For Darcy, although he could not stop himself from assessing each of his sister’s partners with a wary eye, he danced most every set, giving each lady equal consequence. Yet, in consequence, Elizabeth
was first among equals. Darcy was delighted to hold her hand and touch her as permitted by the moves of the dances.
Acutely aware of the shared histories and the secrets of her family and friends, Elizabeth felt herself to be of two minds for much of the evening: a watcher and a dancer. She saw how Kitty’s burgeoning confidence gave her an air of maturity; she was happy Georgiana could enjoy herself at a small-town assembly; and she felt relief at Mary’s interest in Ainsworth. She also suspected that Bingley’s excited manner portended a decision to propose to Jane soon, if not this very night. However, it was only when Darcy claimed her as his dance partner that she felt fully present in the moment, enjoying the firm yet gentle warmth of his hands and the smooth precision of their matching moves.
With so many dancers, the assembly room soon felt airless. Thus, after their second set, Bingley led Jane to the open window. Noticing his restiveness, she asked if he was unwell. He assured her, “I am fine, thank you, although I admit I am distracted.” Taking her hand, he asked, “Is it too soon, Miss Bennet, for me to request a courtship? It is scarcely a month since I returned here. Perhaps you have not yet had time to know your heart.”
“I know my heart, Mr. Bingley.” Jane smiled but said no more.
“Perhaps you are not yet convinced of my character and my heart. If that is so, Miss Bennet, please tell me you need more time. I can … I mean, if you prefer … I will ask you again at the next assembly and at the next assembly after that if need be.”
It was only with those words that Jane was convinced of the sincerity of Bingley’s commitment. “Yes, I would be honored to enter into a courtship with you, sir.”
He kissed her hand. “I love you, Jane Bennet, and I will wait for you to love me.”
“You do not need to wait,” she said softly.
Bingley gasped when he realized what she had revealed. “To-to-tomorrow,” he stammered. “Tomorrow, I will speak to your father! Such happy feelings nearly overwhelm me, yet I am in agony! I wish to sweep you up my arms and—”
“Perhaps we might have another dance,” Jane said, feeling pure delight at his declaration of love and his urgent desire to hold her. As Bingley led her back to the floor, neither of them cared that there would be gossip at church tomorrow because they had danced together more than twice.
≈≈≈
As soon as the two eldest Bennet daughters entered the foyer at Longbourn, Jane grabbed her sister’s hand and half-pulled her up the stairs to their bedroom. Closing the bedroom door, she leaned against it and whispered, “He has asked for a courtship!”
“He who?” Elizabeth teased.
“He said he loved me, that if I did not yet trust him, he would ask again at the next assembly and one after that if need be.”
“What did you reply?”
“I said yes! Mr. Bingley will talk with Papa tomorrow. I am so very happy.” Making a graceful pirouette, Jane sank upon the bed and stared unseeing at the ceiling.
“I am delighted and utterly unsurprised.” Elizabeth removed her sister’s shoes before sitting in a chair to remove her own. So, this is the happy ending that comes from an insulting proposal, a rude rejection, an impertinent letter, and a gentleman’s effort to be a better person. After the Netherfield party left last year, I would not have predicted this!
“Lizzy, I believe I am happier than I would have been had he asked me for a courtship after the ball last November.”
“Why?”
“His leaving was a test for both of us, painful, yet important. We know each other—and ourselves—better now. Just as he has grown in confidence, so have I. And when we marry, as I have no doubt we will, we will be more prepared for life’s challenges.”
“Leave it to you, dearest, to paint a silver lining around a very dark cloud from last year.” But privately Elizabeth agreed. Much later, lying awake in the darkness, she thought of Darcy. Our bitter parting after his proposal at Rosings … was that our test? Since his return to Netherfield, we, too, have made our way, our stumbling way, into a better understanding of ourselves and each other. And tonight when we danced ….
All rational thought fled as a wave of warmth and longing coursed through Elizabeth. If Mr. Darcy proposed to me again, I would accept him.
≈≈≈
June 16, 1811
When the maid escorted Bingley to Mr. Bennet’s study on Sunday morning, the older man regarded his daughter’s suitor from under a raised eyebrow. Consulting his pocket watch, he asked, “Is my timepiece malfunctioning, sir, or are you visiting very early?”
“I cannot speak to the condition of your watch, sir, but I am eager to discuss your daughter. I have asked Miss Bennet for a courtship, and she has agreed.”
“Well, you will be pleased to know I have not changed my mind since we last visited this topic. I assume you requested a courtship because—”
“Because I did not want to rush her.” Bingley quickly finished the sentence for him.
Amused by his impatience, Mr. Bennet asked, “Do you have a date in mind as to when you will offer for Jane?”
“A month. Does a month sound appropriate? Then the banns will need to be posted … I could wait longer, I suppose, but—”
“I believe a proposal in month is perfectly sensible.” After all, this romance has been stuttering along for rather awhile now.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Kindly sit, and I will have the maid call for Jane and bring us coffee. Or would you prefer tea?”
Bingley sat but stood again almost immediately. “Coffee with sugar is fine.”
Watching the young man’s agitation, Mr. Bennet suppressed a smile. “Upon consideration, I believe I would prefer tea. A calming beverage, don’t you think?”
“What would Miss Bennet want?” In a mutter, Bingley added, “I should know! She stayed at Netherfield for nearly a week when she was ill. I have asked her for a courtship, yet I cannot recall whether she wants coffee or tea in the morning!”
“If you marry, sir,” Mr. Bennet began, but spoke faster when he saw Bingley’s alarmed look that such a likelihood might be in doubt, “I mean to say, when you marry, you will have decades to learn these little things.” He rang for the maid, requested tea, and asked her to call Jane to his study.
In Mr. Bennet’s estimation, Jane arrived sooner than expected; to Bingley, the wait seemed painfully long. After she sat in the chair beside her sweetheart, her father asked, “So, daughter, has Mr. Bingley convinced you he is worthy of you?”
“He has.” Jane squeezed Bingley’s hand, and he relaxed.
Mr. Bennet noticed and thought, May you always find comfort in each other. “I have one condition: to wait a few days before informing Mrs. Bennet. Lately, I have not felt well, so I am not eager to hear my wife carry on at the top of her voice about wedding clothes and lace.” Before the young lovers could protest that theirs was only a courtship, he said, “Yes, I realize there has been no proposal, but unless one of you is suddenly knocked insensible, I fully expect a wedding to come of this.”
“How long a wait?” asked Bingley, who wanted to shout his happy news to friends and strangers alike.
“Please, Papa, let us delay our announcement no more than one week,” Jane said sweetly, but both men heard her determination. “My sisters and I will manage Mama.”
“If the talk is too wearying, you are welcome at Netherfield.”
“Had you a better library there, I would go with you today,” Mr. Bennet said. “Well, I am foregoing church—a slight headache. No doubt Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are already in the churchyard hearing all about the assembly.”
≈≈≈
Indeed, they were. While Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips chatted with several matrons, Lydia stood amidst three young ladies—Julia, Susan, and Beatrice—who were approximately her age. Although she was no longer out in Meryton society, Lydia believed her disgrace was not yet common knowledge. This morning, her mother had allowed her to wear her hair up, so she had escaped the mo
st obvious sign of her recent loss of status.
Lydia knew she was not well liked by her peers, but this did not trouble her, for she believed jealousy was the cause. Thus, after exchanging greetings, the youngest Bennet daughter was not surprised when Julia—who, at eighteen, was the oldest—got to the heart of the matter. “Why were you not at the assembly, Lydia?”
“I became indisposed while visiting Aunt Phillips yesterday.”
“Perhaps something you ate?” asked Susan in a sardonic tone. Last year, Susan had burst into tears after learning Wickham had taken an interest in Mary King. Lately, however, Susan claimed she could barely recall the disgraced lieutenant’s face.
“Or perhaps the problem began when you were a guest of Miss Darcy’s,” suggested Beatrice, giggling behind her hand.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed. What have they heard? Kitty is stupid enough to have said something by accident, but my other sisters would never discuss me with these cats! And little Miss Darcy would not admit to being upset by the likes of me. Still, Lizzy did drag me out, and servants may have witnessed that.
Standing very straight, which made Lydia taller than the other girls, she said coolly, “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you.” After a silence, she added, “I had hoped to hear your impressions, but perhaps you were not at the dance either.”
“We most certainly were!” Susan insisted.
After a full minute of exchanging frowns and silent signals, followed at last by sighs of acquiescence, the three young ladies provided the sort of details Lydia most desired: who wore what; who danced with whom; and who made fools of themselves.
In Mrs. Bennet’s conversations with her neighbors, she was delighted to hear that Jane and Bingley had danced three sets, as this indication of the gentleman’s preference was almost as substantial as a request for a courtship. Mrs. Bennet also learned that Maria Lucas’s letters from Brighton were filled with vivid accounts of wonderful experiences. Apparently, this was the happiest time of Maria’s life; she had never seen so many handsome, charming, and attentive men in uniform!