A Dishonorable Offer

by Timothy Underwood

  “Do not say such things.” Elizabeth stopped working and looked Jane in the eye, enunciating each word clearly. “You will marry for love.” She then returned to quickly finishing the last pie. “Mr. Thomas was closer to fifty than forty, and with five children already, and he cared for nothing but your appearance.”

  “He had a great deal of money. If I had married him, we wouldn’t be shaping piecrusts. We would no longer be a useless burden upon our uncles.”

  “This is not sound — you only say it because you are disappointed now. Our uncles do not mind so much and —”

  “Mr. Phillips minds very much. So does Mr. Gardiner, though he is much kinder.”

  “I would be happy if I had money to support and host my nieces and sister — besides, shaping piecrusts, and doing these other little tasks, it is not unpleasant. And with the circulating library, we can read as many books as we wish, and we still have servants, and good dresses. I do not feel poor. Our situation is not very poor, but settling for a man you could not love or respect, or even like —” Elizabeth shuddered.

  Having finished their work, Elizabeth wiped her hands off on a damp towel and handed it to Jane.

  Elizabeth was perfect, and Jane loved her sister beyond anything, but she did not understand Lizzy.

  Jane could never forget that they should still be — she should still be — at the front of the local society. Things were not as they should have been.

  She should have pursued Mr. Thomas. He was overweight and gross, and her distaste had led her to listen to Elizabeth when her sister begged her not to encourage the man. But Jane was already twenty-two, in just a few years her beauty would begin to fade.

  She needed to be sensible in the future. Pragmatic.

  *****

  The day after the assembly ball, Fitzwilliam Darcy woke to the morning light glowing at the edges of the heavy curtains around the window. He had dreamed of that pretty girl, Miss Elizabeth. In the dream she smiled, and he laid his fingers against her mouth to feel the shape of her smile, yet he somehow saw the pretty red lips through his fingers.

  Darcy was stiff and he stretched to wake himself up before jumping quickly out of bed. He threw the curtains wide open. It was a bright clear day, and from the eminence on which Netherfield was built he could see about the rolling landscape for miles. Meryton was visible in the distance, a collection of tiny buildings with the antlike motion of carriages and carts.

  He was going to enjoy this visit to Hertfordshire.

  The day was perfect for a good ride. Unfortunately, it was too early in the season for a fox hunt. In the fields around Netherfield the remaining golden stalks of wheat stood tall as the farmers went about their business cutting and collecting. Women in peasant dresses with their hair tied back and covered took the sheaves as they were reaped and tied them up. In a few more weeks the fields would be flat and cleared and ready for galloping.

  The gentlemen hereabouts were not a clever or fashionable group; however, conversations the previous night established that they were able to put on excellent hunts. Most of the ladies here were as bland as every other group of women, but an occasional evening spent dancing and talking would be tolerable.

  And there was Miss Elizabeth.

  He wanted her.

  That dream.

  Darcy plopped into the red patterned wingback chair next to his window. Their hands touching as they danced, her breasts bobbing up and down in time with the music, the warm light in her eyes… What would it feel like? Those lips on his, his hands on her hips, her stomach, exploring her body.

  Darcy shook himself. So Miss Bingley was right. He wanted her to become his mistress. He remembered that he had hoped to find a woman he would not quickly grow bored with. Deep in his gut he felt certain he would never grow bored with Elizabeth.

  But what could he do?

  His cousins would tell him to flirt with her and seduce her. It would be easy in their minds. But there was something innocent and sweet about Elizabeth. He didn’t want to hurt her. But amorous congress didn’t make a woman impure or less worthy of respect than she had been before. That was simply a foolish superstition.

  They would have raised her to think any such behavior was deeply wrong. She was still accepted by society and was happy and close to her friends. To become a rich man’s mistress would break her relationships with her family and friends.

  No. That was merely a matter of practicalities. With a little patience he could create a position that appeared to be entirely respectable. Then her friends would not know, and she could still visit and correspond.

  With a blacksmith for a brother-in-law she would never marry any respectable man. If she ever married someone who had any pretension to being a gentleman, it would be an old widower of low status who wanted a beautiful nursemaid and governess for his children.

  The way her eyes lit up when she’d teased him was so delightful.

  By Jove, he wanted to see the girl again.

  Darcy called his valet and dressed; then he left his room and whistled as he walked down Netherfield’s ornate staircase.

  Breakfast, or a good gallop?

  Darcy had stayed in his room mulling over Miss Elizabeth for long enough that Bingley had woken as well. He stood in the entry hall in his fashionable riding breeches and coat.

  “Bingley, what say you to a good ride?”

  Bingley grinned back, his teeth flashing. “Capital idea. Capital. We should make a race of it, and I daresay I’ll win.”

  The horses were quickly saddled, and Darcy swung himself onto the large animal. They trotted the horses for a few minutes to warm them up. The morning light was bright, and there was a brisk breeze. People waved and smiled. Birds called and a hawk circled in the air.

  Bingley grinned and pointed at a hill in the distance, and then took off at a gallop. Darcy chased after him, though Bingley managed to stay a little ahead the whole distance.

  After the hard gallop the two friends pulled up on the reins upon reaching the small prominence. They were able to look out over the countryside, seeing Netherfield on its own hill, and a spattering of other country estates, the collection of buildings that made up Meryton, the road to London — now busy with a bustle of carts and riders to-ing and fro-ing. The morning air was still cold, and the two horses panted, expelling small clouds of frost with each breath.

  Darcy sat comfortably, with his hands on the pommel of the saddle. His horse bent his head down and sampled the grass. Darcy felt healthy and vigorous and alive.

  Bingley kept his grip on the saddle with one hand, and nervously pulled at the sleeve of his jacket with the other. “That girl you danced with twice last night and her sister, the girl I danced with when we first arrived. I meant to explain, her connections are very low… Extremely low.”

  Darcy grunted. Must Bingley tell him something he already knew? Now that they stood still he could feel the warmth of the sun. It had started to warm the day. The sky was cloudless, and there would be fine weather for the shooting planned for the afternoon. Last time they shot together, Bingley had uncharacteristically bagged more birds.

  It was time to reestablish his dominance.

  “Darcy!”

  A little startled and annoyed by the shout, Darcy fully straightened on the horse and looked at Bingley imperiously over his nose.

  “Don’t look at me like that — I have to apologize, and the least you could do is listen — I ought to have paid more attention to my neighbors and known to warn you off from that girl.”

  “Don’t worry. Penniless, her sister married a blacksmith, disgraceful.” Darcy waved his hand vaguely. “Miss Bingley told me after the first dance. I like her.”

  “Oh." Bingley looked nonplussed by this. “And you danced with her again?”

  Darcy did not reply. Bingley knew the answer to the literal meaning of his question already. There were two hawks circling in the air. Such birds, floating on the air, barely flapping their wings. It was always a stirring
sight.

  “Yes, I know you danced with her again. You don’t need to be a deuced donkey about it. I figured I ought not dance with them. Being on dancing terms with someone whose connections are so low isn’t very… ah, tonnish. You know it is my duty, since my father made his fortune in trade, to be as disgusted by those beneath me as possible.”

  Darcy laughed. “I expect you to perform your duty admirably — my lineage is too well-established to be damaged by any indiscretion. In any case, your instinct is wrong, so long as she and her sister are recognized by the local society, keeping a loose acquaintance is best.”

  Bingley murmured thoughtfully. “That is not Caroline’s belief. She’d rather avoid them. There is a card party at their aunt’s house tomorrow night, and Caroline thought we should give our excuses.”

  “Your sister does not like women who are prettier than her.”

  “Ha. You misjudge her a little — I like Miss Bennet very much indeed. Were her connections not so very poor I would desire very much to know her better. Very much — I would not wish to give her a false impression of my intentions.”

  “Then do not give one. If she is a sensible girl, she must know there is no chance you would consider marriage. You and Caroline can give excuses, but I will be at that card party, and I plan to talk with Miss Bennet and her sister a great deal.”

  “If you have no worry on the topic, then I will follow your lead.”

  “I do enjoy being followed.” Darcy grinned at Bingley and pointed to a gate which opened into the park around Netherfield. “Now follow me back to the house.”

  With a shout, Darcy squeezed his knees together and set his horse off at a gallop, with Bingley laughing and following behind.

  Chapter 7

  Elizabeth had expected Mr. Bingley to beg off from attending her aunt’s card party after how he behaved at the ball. His party sent no excuses however, so most likely they would appear.

  Elizabeth and Jane stood by the table serving coffee and cake to the guests as they arrived, enjoying the portion of the evening where they could speak with everyone, as without money Jane and Elizabeth had to play for pennies with their mother and a few young Misses who had run out their spending cash. Elizabeth was measuring out the cream into Mr. Gould’s cup when Jane stiffened. Elizabeth handed Mr. Gould his cup and accepted his thanks before she turned to look herself.

  Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley strode towards them, followed by Mr. Hurst and Bingley’s sisters. Mr. Darcy was so tall and bold that everyone, even Mr. Bingley, appeared small and wan next to him.

  Despite her concern for how Mr. Bingley might treat Jane, Elizabeth gave all her attention to Darcy. She knew Mr. Bingley said something amiable to Jane, but Mr. Darcy’s smile tried to steal her breath again.

  “Miss Elizabeth, you are yet more beautiful than before, dispensing refreshments like a veritable goddess of the hearth. It brings to mind Homer’s words: ‘With genial joy to warm the soul, bright Helen mixed a mirth inspiring bowl.’ And I say, though she were the most beautiful woman of ancient Achaea, you mixing this coffee are her equal. And ‘tis fortunate Napoleon has never seen your face, for if he had, he would build a thousand ships to steal England’s brightest jewel from us.”

  Elizabeth giggled, and Darcy smirked at her. She said, “That is extravagant praise. You have a great deal of those poetic phrases memorized. Now I must ask the banal question: how do you take your coffee?”

  Darcy grinned at her. “I do not have quite so many — I looked that one up this morning when I thought you likely would be serving the coffee. With a little sugar and cream, please.”

  “Oh.” Elizabeth stared at him, terribly pleased by the particular attention that showed. He was a very good flirt.

  Darcy looked a little embarrassed at how she looked at him and with a boyish blush said, “The coffee?”

  “Oh, yes.” Elizabeth quickly poured from the pitcher into the cup with its blue Wedgewood symbol imprinted in the bottom. Elizabeth handed him the cup, and Mr. Darcy curled his hands to take it in such a way that his hand brushed over Elizabeth’s fingers. She felt a fluttering in her stomach. She wished there was an excuse to speak longer with him.

  Elizabeth absentmindedly served coffee to the last few guests who approached her and Jane, but her attention was on where Mr. Darcy stood with the coffee cup and saucer carefully cradled in his hands. He towered over Charlotte and Mr. Phillips.

  That group separated, and she and Jane were now alone. The guests were assembling into groups for playing cards. Elizabeth grabbed Jane’s sleeve and whispered to her, “You must play with Mr. Bingley."

  “You know I can’t, I haven’t any money.”

  Elizabeth and Jane had set their handbags down on the windowsill behind them while they served refreshments. With a quick move Elizabeth grabbed and opened hers. “Here,” Elizabeth said pushing her small coin purse with the last of her saved money into Jane’s hands.

  “I can’t take this. What if I lose it all? I know how much you depend on being able to read your books."

  “You must. Do not worry about it — you won’t lose, not all of it, and I can beg old novels and a candle or two from Charlotte."

  “Lizzy—”

  “Just go. Now is your chance — see Mr. Bingley standing there with Mrs. Phillips? She’ll ensure you are seated with him. Go.”

  Elizabeth grabbed Jane’s shoulders and pushed her forward. She stumbled a little hesitantly towards Mr. Bingley and her aunt, but Jane smiled prettily to them and began speaking. Elizabeth nibbled on her lip as Jane and Mr. Bingley sat next to each other around one of the card tables. Mr. Gould was also seated with them, and he began to deal the cards.

  She really hoped Jane didn’t lose much money.

  Elizabeth looked around the room. She spotted Mr. Darcy who stood next to Miss Bingley and Mr. Phillips. He caught her eye and waved her over. “Miss Elizabeth, we need a fourth for quadrille.”

  “Oh, no. I have no money to play with.”

  “Allow me to loan you a pound or two.”

  “I would be unable to pay you back when I lose the money, and I am far out of practice at the game. I will lose.”

  “Do not worry about that, the money would not even be a trifle to me.”

  “Yes, but it would be a matter of concern to me.”

  Darcy pursed his lips.

  Elizabeth hated to stymie him, but she really could not accept money from him. It would be deeply improper. He should know that. To ask in front of her uncle.

  “Then we shall play for pennies.”

  Mr. Phillips exclaimed, “Absurd. Speculation needs no particular number of players. We shall grab a fourth from that table.”

  “They have already started — it would be rude to interfere with the game. Perhaps you could lend your niece the funds. She could have no objection to receiving the money from that source.”

  “And then she shall lose the money, as she has already said. I spend enough to support my wife’s sister and her family.”

  “What about a wager between us — I think Miss Elizabeth shall end ahead. You loan her the money, and if she does not win, I will owe you what amount she loses. You will give me the sum of her winnings if she ends ahead.”

  Mr. Phillips threw his hands up. “Fine. It is your whim — you have money enough to waste on foolish girls, I am sure.”

  Darcy grinned at his victory. The four sat down and the cards were shuffled and cut.

  Elizabeth felt uncertain. She hoped Darcy would not mind when he owed Mr. Phillips a great deal. But of course he wouldn’t. After all, it was not even a trifle to him. Elizabeth realized she was delighted that she could play and converse with Mr. Darcy again.

  Darcy asked her, as he dealt out the deck, “Miss Elizabeth, if you’re no expert at cards, how do you prefer to spend your idle time?”

  “Oh, I can play cards; it is quadrille I am no expert at. I confess, I prefer reading to cards. Though novels, I do not study near so much poetry a
s you.”

  Darcy nodded his head to acknowledge her point and grinned back. He seemed to know exactly how handsome those dimples were.

  As the first trick was played, Mr. Phillips said, “All she does is read and talk. It is idle time. Which is better than one of her sisters. Though I don’t trust Lizzy’s character now that I know what Lydia’s was.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Uncle, might we not discuss this?”

  Mr. Phillips said conversationally to Darcy and Miss Bingley, “I hardly know where she gets all of the books though. When she returned after that woman dirtied my good name forever, Miss Lizzy here wanted me to pay some money for a subscription to a circulating library. Well I said no right away. No encouraging her to enjoy herself. Not me. She still reads all the time. I wish I could sell the books. I would too, if half were not borrowed from Mrs. Collins.”

  At the end of the round of play, Elizabeth lost a shilling, and Mr. Phillips won one.

  Miss Bingley said brightly to Mr. Phillips, “It was very kind of you to take in your wife’s sister and children, and even kinder that you did not throw them out after…well, not every man would continue to keep them.”

  “I was very kind. Not that they are grateful for it. Mrs. Bennet only complains and complains, and she then gets my wife to nag me for her. I have made Jane and Lizzy less idle and pampered. I stuck them up in the attic and make them help the cook before parties. I never would do that before, with Kitty and Lydia. I said to myself, they are gentlewomen, born and bred. They shouldn’t have dirty hands, even if it requires me to keep an extra maid. And then ha! Lydia was no gentlewoman. Not at all. I’m not going to let Lizzy here get away with her laziness. No, not I.”

  Elizabeth peeked a glance at Mr. Darcy who frowned at Mr. Phillips.

  Her initial delight was already gone. She never should have let herself be talked into the card game. Elizabeth was not ashamed of helping prepare pies, but it was embarrassing. Mr. Darcy was so very rich, and it showed how much lower she was. She wanted him to see her as the lively girl who laughed at his flirts and then made a droll reply. She didn’t want him to see her as impoverished and almost a maid.