“Then the scene will look silly. You cannot sell invisible paintings.”
“We could make some pretend ones.”
“That will require excessive effort. You were the one who did not want to go to any great trouble.”
“It would be a lot of bother,” Mr. Darcy agreed, having just recollected that the play in question would require four ladies. It was very likely that the Bennet sisters would be recruited to fill two of those roles, and he did not like to think what dangers to his heart might be caused by spending time rehearsing lines with Elizabeth.
But it would be exhilarating to act opposite her in any part, his uncooperative mind thought. If she were to be my Juliet, I would not object to playing Romeo. I would even undertake the task of building her a balcony.
In the midst of envisioning her standing upon his creation and declaring her love for him, Mr. Darcy collected his wits. He did not want to act with her or to do anything which carried a risk of succumbing to his feelings. What they needed was a play with only two ladies’ roles and as few gentlemen as possible. Just a quiet little gathering of friends in the pursuit of some tame amusement. No romance, no balconies, and no Elizabeth Bennet.
CHAPTER 3
Our wills and fates do so contrary run…
HAMLET, ACT III, SCENE II
The reply to Elizabeth’s request for the carriage arrived when she was in the process of folding up some clothing in preparation for their anticipated departure. She was vexed, although not particularly surprised, to learn that her mother had different ideas. Not only had Mrs. Bennet written that the carriage could not be spared until Tuesday at the earliest, she was also eager for them to stay longer if invited to do so.
“By which, she means that we should hint for an invitation and not cease until it is given,” Elizabeth muttered to herself in aggravation.
Her mother was excessively determined for Jane and Mr. Bingley to be thrown together. In her own opinion, such stratagems were contemptible, besides being entirely unnecessary. If a gentleman wished to propose, he would do so without needing to be pressed into it, and if he did not, then any such efforts were both pointless and demeaning.
In Mr. Bingley’s case, Elizabeth thought that he was very likely to propose. His attentiveness to Jane on the previous evening and his concern throughout her illness had given a very encouraging impression. He could find his own moment, however. There was no need for her mother to be thrusting a prospective wife upon him, and it would be rude to impose upon his hospitality any further. Jane was reasonably well recovered from her illness, and it was appropriate for them to go home now.
There was no reason to think that he was wishing them away, but his sisters probably were, as well as both of the other gentlemen. The four of them had made Elizabeth feel quite unwelcome during her short stay at Netherfield. She had no wish to linger there, especially not in this undignified way. She was particularly averse to the humiliating prospect of telling Miss Bingley that they had no means of transportation until Tuesday. Their mother’s intentions would be dreadfully obvious, and they might be thought to have played a part in her scheme.
She went across the hall to inform her sister of this hindrance to their plans.
“What do you think?” she asked Jane after relating their mother’s reply. “I feel that it is presumptuous to remain here now that you have recovered. But you may wish to stay a little longer and enjoy the opportunity for visiting with your friends.” Unlike herself, her sister was friendly with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and perhaps she would also like to spend more time with Mr. Bingley.
Jane was not one to take advantage of opportunity, however, especially where it conflicted with her sense of propriety. “I have seen Caroline and Louisa daily while I was ill, not to mention having spent yesterday evening downstairs,” she said. “Besides, I was only ever invited for dinner, not to pay an extended visit. I am quite in agreement with you that we ought to go home today or tomorrow at the latest. I see what Mama is thinking, and I do not like it. We shall look presumptuous if we do not leave soon.”
“Yes, that is what I thought as well.”
“There are also these theatricals that you were telling me about. I do not want to be in the way of their rehearsals. Perhaps we could walk home. It is not very far. I think I can manage well enough.”
“Certainly not,” Elizabeth cried. “I would rather be embarrassed by staying until Tuesday than take any chances with your health. In the carriage and well bundled up you will not come to any harm, but it would be reprehensible of me to let you walk five miles across the fields so soon after an illness. Fortunately, there is no chance of that coming to pass. Mr. Bingley would never allow you to leave on foot. He would insist upon loaning you his own carriage. Indeed, I wonder if we should request that favour of him.”
“I expect he would be happy to oblige.”
“Especially if you were to ask. I doubt that he could refuse any request of yours.”
Jane blushed at this, but she agreed to ask him. They went downstairs for that purpose, but instead it was Mr. Bingley who asked for their assistance.
“We cannot agree upon a play,” he cried in desperation when they entered the drawing room. “There does not seem to be anything which suits our needs. Can either of you recommend one?”
“What about Twelfth Night?” Jane said. “We had great fun acting it at Longbourn last Christmas.”
“That is an excellent suggestion.” Mr. Bingley smiled fondly at her, and she smiled happily back at him. “There are not many ladies in it, however,” he observed after a moment.
“Some of us took male roles. I was Sebastian myself.”
“Not Viola?”
“No, Lydia wanted to be Viola, and Kitty was Olivia. Lizzy played the duke. She was very good.”
“You would make an excellent duke, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said. “I think we should do Twelfth Night.”
“It has too many parts to be viable for us,” he protested. “We are looking for something with only a few characters.”
“Then perhaps a Greek play,” Elizabeth suggested. “Many of them have a small cast, except for the chorus, which you could reduce to a single person. Admittedly, that would be a sad thing to do. One daughter of Danaus is no substitute for fifty, and a lone citizen would make a poor representation of citizenry.”
Her amusement was dampened by noting that Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Hurst were all glaring at her, but from Mr. Darcy she received a look that was almost like admiration.
“I suggested Greek drama already, but it did not appeal,” he said. “Anyway, I have to agree with you that it would be wrong to reduce the chorus so drastically.”
He seemed grateful to her for holding the same opinion, but she found it disconcerting for them to be in such harmony on any subject.
“My sisters prefer something sentimental,” Mr. Bingley said. “Romeo and Juliet was mentioned, but it would also require too many people, not to mention the danger of using swords. And the trouble of building a balcony.”
Elizabeth guessed that this play had been Miss Bingley’s suggestion. No doubt Mr. Darcy was meant to have been Romeo to her Juliet. Evidently this was her latest ploy. She would have him declaring his love for her, even if only in the lines spoken by his character. He did not appear keen, however.
He was also still looking at Elizabeth, presumably waiting for her to make another recommendation and possibly hoping that it might be the very one to save him from a romantic entanglement. It was tempting to suggest exactly the sort of thing that he was trying to avoid, but on the other hand, she was averse to assisting Miss Bingley. Aversion won out over temptation. “If it is tragedy that you want,” she said, “perhaps Jane Shore would suit you.”
“I already suggested that play too,” Mr. Darcy said. “It did not suit.”
“I rather fancy comedy,” Mr. Bingley said. “Darcy and I were keen on The School for Scandal, but we dare not risk damaging the pictures.�
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“That is a funny scene,” Elizabeth said. “I can imagine you playing the part of Charles.” And Mr. Darcy can be the villain of the piece, which will suit him perfectly.
“That is just what Darcy said. He thought it was an excellent role for me, and he wanted to play Joseph.”
Elizabeth did not want to think about how much she and Mr. Darcy seemed to be in agreement this morning.
“Could you not just pretend to have some paintings?” she suggested.
“That would look silly. Anyway, we have already decided against The School for Scandal,” Miss Bingley said firmly.
“I do not know why you must be so particular,” Mr. Bingley said.
“I want to choose a play that I will enjoy acting.”
“I think we could have fun acting almost any play.”
“Then why not Lover’s Vows?”
“Anything except that. You need to put it out of your mind and settle upon something else.”
“We have not considered She Stoops to Conquer,” Mrs. Hurst said.
“I suppose that would do,” Miss Bingley said grudgingly.
It was not a very romantic play, but evidently she had reached the point of being prepared to clutch at anything with declarations of love in it.
“I like it,” Mr. Darcy said. “If you do not object, Bingley, I would like to play Tony Lumpkin.”
Miss Bingley gave him a look of frustration. “But you should have the lead role,” she said. “And Charles Marlow is just the right part for you. I think you will play it very well.”
Elizabeth could agree that he would. Addressing people in a haughty manner was exactly what he was good at.
“I would much rather be Tony Lumpkin,” he insisted to Miss Bingley.
“You cannot stoop to playing the part of an idiot,” she protested.
“I do not think it stooping to take such an amusing role.”
This was beginning to turn into a quarrel. Elizabeth was curious to see how Miss Bingley would reconcile this disagreement with her customary habit of agreeing with Mr. Darcy on everything, but Mr. Bingley intervened.
“I do not think She Stoops to Conquer will do for us,” he declared. “We must have something with sufficient roles for four ladies, and the maid’s part is so small as to be negligible.”
His sisters and Mr. Darcy looked at him with surprise, which Elizabeth saw, but Mr. Bingley appeared oblivious. He turned to Jane and asked, “Is there any part which you would particularly like to act?”
“Are we to be in your play?” she asked. “I had not realized that you meant to include us.”
“Miss Bennet must not act,” Miss Bingley cried. “Not after she has just been ill. So much speaking will not be good for her throat.”
“I had not thought of that,” Mr. Bingley said, looking at Jane with concern. “I do not want you to overexert yourself, but do you think that perhaps you could manage a small part.”
“I do feel much better. A small role should not be too taxing.”
“Excellent. But not too small. Definitely not the maid. You must have something better than that. If only we could agree on a play which has enough roles and suits all of us.”
“Perhaps my father could recommend something suitable. He has a great many plays in his library. I could ask him once we are back at Longbourn, speaking of which, we were planning to go home this morning—”
“You cannot leave now,” he protested. “You must stay here for our rehearsals. It will not be good for you to go back and forth so much.”
“We would not like to impose.”
“There is no question of imposition. As well as being convenient, it will be delightful to have you here longer.”
Elizabeth had the distinct impression that he was alone in this opinion. His sisters and Mr. Darcy looked dismayed, while Mr. Hurst looked disgusted.
“We shall first have to write to our mother and be certain that she can spare us,” Jane said, “but I do not think she is likely to make any objection.”
No indeed, Elizabeth thought. It is really going to be a case of informing Mama rather than having to request permission for a longer stay, but I cannot say that the consent has already been given before the invitation was. She is certainly going to be delighted by this news.
Miss Bingley was clearly not delighted, however. Her demeanour confirmed Elizabeth’s suspicion that she and Jane were really not meant to have been included. This did not bode well for enjoying these theatricals. It was tempting to make some excuse or pretend that their mother could not spare them; however, she could not bring herself to disappoint her sister, who seemed eager to participate in this play and was probably looking forward to spending some additional time with Mr. Bingley as well. Besides, there would be a good deal of fuss if her mother ever heard that she had refused such an opportunity.
This must be endured, but for Jane, she could tolerate almost anything. Even another week or two with Mr. Darcy. With any luck, she would only have the smallest part and could spend much of her time reading a book or finding other ways of relegating herself to obscurity while he was occupied in practising his principal role to perfection.
CHAPTER 4
Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
OTHELLO, ACT III, SCENE III
So much for peace of mind, Mr. Darcy thought. He must resign himself to another week or two in close proximity with Elizabeth. There was nothing to be done about it now that Mr. Bingley had issued the invitation. Nothing except to have as little interaction with her as possible. And perhaps he could stop his treacherous eyes from straying so frequently in her direction. They needed to fall in line with his better judgment.
He might yet have to act with her. That would also have to be endured, but hopefully not to any great degree. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would claim the best roles for themselves and give the smallest part to Elizabeth.
But what part? They had to get on and choose something. If only Miss Bingley were not so intent upon promoting plays with loving couples and urging their group to consider the merits of a sentimental hero.
Fortunately, Mr. Darcy had an ally in Mr. Hurst, who scoffed at tender lines and moonstruck lovers. He could not abide sentiment and melodrama. If he must be acting, and mind you, he was only willing to take on a small part that would not require much effort, then their play had better not be a silly one. He was having nothing to do with bemused beaux and distraught damsels. His preference was for a play in which the characters were of sound mind and spoke in plain words.
Think, Mr. Darcy told himself, as they resumed their discussion. Think of something. We need a play with a good-natured scoundrel for Mr. Bingley, a plain-speaking role for Mr. Hurst, a sentimental lady for Miss Bingley, a comic one for her sister, and a confirmed bachelor for me. Does such a farce exist?
At least the two Miss Bennets were not particular. They both declared themselves willing to act any part which was desired of them, and Elizabeth specifically said that she did not mind how small it was. He was not certain whether she was motivated by generosity or disinterest. Or perhaps she thought that their endeavors were doomed and wanted little to do with this project.
He turned his mind to thoughts of bachelors. Unfortunately, so many of the bachelor characters in drama had a tendency to renounce their celibacy and surrender themselves into matrimony. Like Benedick in Much Ado about Nothing.
Now, that was a role which he would enjoy playing. But not with Miss Bingley as his Beatrice. Besides being concerned about her enthusiasm for pairing up with him, he doubted that she could do justice to the character. That sort of wit and spirited manner was beyond her comprehension.
There was, however, one lady in the room who was ideally suited to the role. With her lively mind and playful manner, Elizabeth might never be a Juliet, but she would be the perfect Beatrice. Not that he wanted her to be, he reminded himself. Not opposite him, anyway. It was just that he could imagine how well she would play the part. She had j
ust the right spirit. There was the same sort of banter to her conversation.
“You look deep in thought, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said. “I am guessing that you have thought of the perfect play for us.”
“Unfortunately, I have not,” he replied.
“You must have had something in mind,” she persisted. “You were smiling.”
“I was just thinking of a performance which I recently saw.”
“What was the play?”
“Nothing that would work for us. It requires too large a cast.”
“But what was it?”
“Much Ado about Nothing.”
“That is an amusing play,” she said thoughtfully. “The way that Benedick and Beatrice are brought to realize their love for each other is highly entertaining. It is not quite what I had in mind, but we must choose something, and I think Much Ado about Nothing will do well enough.”
“I believe it has exactly the right number of female roles,” her brother cried enthusiastically. “Although as I recall, two of the roles are rather small,” he added doubtfully.
“They are not insignificant,” Miss Bingley declared. “Some small roles are inevitable, and we shall have nothing at all if you keep finding fault with every suggestion.”
“Much Ado about Nothing is acceptable to me,” Mrs. Hurst declared.
“I could tolerate it,” Mr. Hurst said.
“I was not meaning to suggest it as a feasible play for us,” Mr. Darcy protested. “We would need an absurd number of additional actors.”
“It was inevitable that we would need a few more, and we could probably double up on some of the parts,” Mr. Bingley said.
“A few perhaps, but I think we would still need close to a dozen men.”
“Easily done. We dined with more gentlemen than that just the other night.”
“The officers?” Miss Bingley queried.
Mr. Darcy saw a happy end to this idea. She and her sister would not care to fill their home with people whom they barely knew.
But he was wrong.
Much Ado About Many Things Page 2