Much Ado About Many Things

by Sophie Lynbrook

  As she heard the tortured lines spoken, Elizabeth felt a great desire to be doing the part herself. She repeated the words in her mind, giving a mental voice to Beatrice’s mirth and playfulness, which Miss Bingley was failing to convey.

  At the end of the scene, Elizabeth heard Mr. Collins’s praise with irritation. Ridiculous words, spoken with no sense and no real appreciation. Mr. Darcy was not the marvel which her stupid cousin made him out to be, but he was a reasonably skilled actor. His voice and mannerisms were natural, and she thought that he had the right idea of his character.

  His strained expression at being the object of such adulation was further evidence of his having an intense dislike for flattery. The foolishness of her cousin’s words caused Elizabeth strain as well. She was relieved when Mr. Darcy interrupted him and asked for her opinion instead.

  After giving it, she was gratified by seeing his face light up with pleasure. This was not arrogant acceptance of his dues; she saw modesty in his delight, and there was something of relief in his manner, which suggested that he might have been doubting himself rather than feeling confidence in his superiority.

  It was a pity that Miss Bingley could not feel a little doubt about her own abilities. Overconfidence was one of her problems. Once the ladies had moved to another room and started upon the first of two scenes they had to rehearse, Elizabeth was almost glad to have only one line. It would be difficult to act along with such an inept player.

  After speaking her line, she watched as Jane and Mrs. Hurst played their part in the scheme by convincing Beatrice that Benedick loved her. Then it was Miss Bingley’s turn. Beatrice had a companion speech to Benedick’s, in which she declared her willingness to requite the love that she had been tricked into believing. This was not done nearly so well as Mr. Darcy had performed his part earlier.

  “What fire is in my ears?” she cried in a screeching voice which suggested that her ears might actually be afire.

  “Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?” She sounded scornful of those who would condemn pride.

  “Contempt, farewell,” she said in a contemptuous tone.

  “For others say thou dost deserve,” she declared, and Elizabeth thought that poor Mr. Darcy did not deserve the Beatrice of their play.

  In the second scene, Margaret and Beatrice had a little conversation together, which should have been witty, but Miss Bingley sounded even haughtier than she had earlier. It was indeed an uphill battle to act with her. Elizabeth felt a great deal of sympathy for the struggle which Mr. Darcy must have been feeling in his scenes with her.

  Miss Bingley was herself haughty after they concluded their rehearsal. “So, Miss Eliza, I see that you are quite delighted with Mr. Wickham,” she said after Mrs. Hurst had walked away with Jane. “Do you not think it perfidious to show so much favour to a man who has treated Mr. Darcy in an infamous manner.”

  “I am not delighted with Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth replied angrily. “Indeed, I barely know him.” She refrained from pointing out that nothing had been specifically said of infamy either.

  “You seem to enjoy his company a great deal.”

  “I am quite indifferent to it. He spoke to me, and by attending to what he said, I was merely being civil.”

  “But it was not just one conversation. You were very eager to monopolize his company yesterday.”

  “Are you accusing me of being thoughtless to Mr. Darcy, or are you complaining that Mr. Wickham’s conversation with me kept him from bestowing his company upon you?”

  “I do not appreciate such insolence,” Miss Bingley cried. “I want nothing to do with Mr. Wickham, and if you had any consideration, you would feel the same way.”

  “By treating him in an ordinary way, I was doing exactly what Mr. Darcy requested. He expressly said that he did not want any fuss to be made. Would you have had me cut Mr. Wickham so that everybody would wonder what cause I had?”

  “I would have expected you to find some way of avoiding him.”

  “That amounts to the same thing,” Elizabeth said in irritation. “I assure you that I have no intention of seeking his company, but I will not deliberately be rude to him. That would be even more of a disservice to Mr. Darcy.”

  With that, she turned and walked away, putting an end to this discussion, but she returned to the other room still in an angry mood. She did not need Miss Bingley to tell her what was right or fair, or to convince her that Mr. Wickham should be avoided as much as was possible. That had already been her intention, and now it would look as though she had been shamed into it.

  It was a relief to see that Mr. Wickham was still absent. So too was Mr. Collins, so she did not have him to irritate her as well. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Colonel Fitzwilliam were rehearsing an earlier scene, and the pleasure of observing them while sitting with her father put her back into some comfort.

  Elizabeth did not see Mr. Wickham again until the conclusion of their day’s efforts. Miss Bingley had engaged a local seamstress to sew their costumes, and she desired the gentlemen to provide their measurements before departing. As the group reassembled, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam both vanished, which Elizabeth was glad of since Mr. Wickham suddenly reappeared at her side. Mr. Bingley was being very attentive to Jane at the same time, which had evidently drawn his notice.

  “Mr. Bingley seems to be greatly enamoured of your sister,” he observed. “That would be an excellent match for her, but I caution you that Mr. Darcy will not like it. He will want his friend to marry as high as possible. Connection is everything to his family. I would recommend that you encourage your sister to make every effort to secure Mr. Bingley as soon as may be possible, or else the opportunity is likely to be lost.”

  Although Elizabeth had been inclined to suspect the same of Mr. Darcy, this advice was not to her taste. Even if she had not been doubting Mr. Wickham, this would have made her mistrust him. He sounded just like her mother in his value for the excellence of the match and his concern for the loss of an opportunity.

  “My sister does not think of opportunities,” she replied.

  “One should. People like Mr. Darcy are always quick to ruin the hopes of others without any regard for the unhappiness they cause.”

  Now he spoke of happiness, but it was too late. His delay in thinking of it added to her doubts. Yesterday she had thought that they defined the concept in the same way; today, she thought it quite possible that they did not. This talk of opportunities was no more to her liking than the idea of one person ruining another’s happiness.

  “I happen to know of one certain case in which Darcy separated a couple deeply attached,” Mr. Wickham continued. “Affection was nothing to him. He felt the gentleman to be beneath the lady, and that was that.”

  True or false? One could imagine Mr. Darcy doing this. It was consistent with his pride. He had proven himself to have a great regard for consequence. And she had herself experienced his disregard for the feelings of others. Even though he had been so pleasant yesterday, she could believe him capable of separating Jane and Mr. Bingley if he thought it in his friend’s best interest.

  But this was not something which Elizabeth wanted to discuss with Mr. Wickham. She politely excused herself on the pretext of needing to discuss something with Charlotte and crossed the room to her friend, noting with satisfaction that Miss Bingley was still occupied with the seamstress. Hopefully that second conversation, even though brief, had not been observed.

  A pleasant chat with Charlotte was an excellent remedy for an ill mood, but Mr. Wickham’s warning remained at the back of Elizabeth’s mind. Although she was unwilling to take his word for anything, his allegation could not be disregarded. Despite his increasing appearance of being untrustworthy, the idea that he had planted into her mind might be rooted in truth. It could be that Mr. Darcy was plotting against her sister even as he was beginning to seem so very honest. One good day was not enough to make a good man of him.

  She afterwards reminded herself
that he had done nothing to earn her distrust. She had often thought him proud, arrogant, and disagreeable, but never untrustworthy or dishonest. Those ideas had only been introduced by Mr. Wickham, which might be reason enough to disregard them. She reminded herself that she had just begun to feel the pleasure of knowing Mr. Darcy and to think him well worth knowing.

  But when they were all sitting together later, she looked at him and wondered what he was. This is the same man who has such high standards of feminine accomplishment. That is presumably what he wants in his own wife and probably what he encourages Mr. Bingley to seek as well. This is a man who would not dance with a lady he felt to be beneath him. He certainly would not marry one, and it is likely that he would advise Mr. Bingley to follow his example.

  In consequence of this reflection, caution crept into her interactions with Mr. Darcy that evening, which Colonel Fitzwilliam observed to his disappointment. We appear to be moving backwards now, he thought. Something needs to be done about this.

  At the same time, Mr. Bingley was thinking that his sisters were impossible. He had invited Jane to walk outside that afternoon, but Mrs. Hurst had immediately said, “What an excellent idea. I shall join you.” And when he had been about to seize upon another opportunity shortly before dinner, Miss Bingley had swooped upon them and taken Jane away to show her something.

  It would be easier to propose if she were at Longbourn instead of staying in my own house, he thought. I was hoping to be engaged by now, but perhaps tomorrow will offer a better chance.

  CHAPTER 29

  For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and the singing of anthems.

  HENRY IV, PART II, ACT I, SCENE II

  The day had arrived. Their rehearsals had reached the point where Mr. Darcy must face the task of declaring his love to Miss Bingley, or rather, Benedick’s love for Beatrice, but she was quite likely to see it as the same thing. At breakfast, her face was bright with enthusiasm.

  Woe is me, he thought while looking out the window at a grey day with drizzling rain. Mr. Collins could probably make a case for this being England at its finest, but Mr. Darcy could only think that outdoors looked almost as uncomfortable as indoors was going to be this morning.

  The officers arrived damp and very glad to warm themselves by the fire before starting their rehearsals. Mr. Darcy was glad of a delay, but it was only a short reprieve. Miss Bingley was soon calling everybody to start.

  Their scene began with Hero’s disastrous wedding. After the friar had given his advice to Leonato, Mr. Pratt, who was also a member of the watch, went to play his part in Borachio and Conrad’s interrogation. Mr. Collins, Sir William, and the other officers left the room as well. Once the door had closed behind the last of them, Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley resumed the scene.

  “Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?” he asked her, noting a redness to her complexion which could suggest weeping. Perhaps Miss Bingley had intentionally simulated that appearance by the liberal use of artificial colour.

  “Yea, and I will weep a while longer,” she said in a cracking voice. It sounded as though she really had been weeping. Perhaps her acting skills were improving.

  She coughed in the middle of her next line and began again with a croak. Perhaps she was ill.

  “Shall we stop?” he asked her. “You do not look well.”

  “No, I am fine,” she insisted, but with a rasp in her throat. “Do continue.”

  Although dubious, Mr. Darcy carried on. It was no use protesting such determination, but her voice was growing weaker, her complexion was too brilliant, her eyes were watery, and in her air altogether, there was a strong suggestion of malaise.

  He came to the all-important line: “I do love nothing—”

  Before he could say, “in the world so well as you,” Miss Bingley swayed and collapsed to the floor. It was certainly not the reaction that Mr. Darcy had been anticipating when this scene had played out in his mind.

  He looked at her with uncertainty, fearing to place himself in any position which she could interpret as intimacy. But relief was at hand. Jane and Mrs. Hurst hurried to her assistance.

  “I am fine,” Miss Bingley whispered as they helped her to sit up, but the redness of her cheeks and the hoarseness of her voice said otherwise.

  “You are ill,” Mrs. Hurst declared. “I believe you have caught Jane’s cold.”

  They both glared at Jane, even as she was helping her friend to stand. Mr. Bingley helped his sister to a sofa, and then he hurried away to give instructions for the apothecary to be summoned.

  “We should clear the room and let her rest quietly,” Mr. Darcy said, and everybody swiftly complied.

  In the hall, they were joined by the group that had been rehearsing in the other room. One of the officers looked out to see what the commotion was, and then they all came out, voicing a general agreement that they could not carry on acting while Miss Bingley lay ill.

  Mr. Collins seemed to think that she required a clergyman for the benefit of her health. “I shall go to her at once,” he declared, making for the door.

  Elizabeth immediately intervened, pulling her cousin away before he could thrust himself into the room and his sympathies upon the invalid. He was not inclined to take direction from her, however. Knowing that his voice would be taken as authority, Mr. Darcy said firmly that Miss Bingley was not to be disturbed. That sent Mr. Collins slinking to the back of the crowd where he became unusually quiet.

  When Mr. Bingley came back, they were all still in the hall, other than Mrs. Hurst, who had stayed with her sister.

  “The rain is pouring down now,” he said. “It would not surprise me if we are in for several days of very wet weather. I have been thinking that with my sister ill as well, it will make sense for us not to meet again until she and the weather are both improved.”

  Everybody agreed that this was best and that in the meantime they could each study their lines and rehearse as much as possible amongst themselves. Sir William’s and Mr. Bennet's carriages were ordered, and they offered to convey the officers, who gratefully accepted. Everybody went into the morning room to await the carriages, except for Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who preferred to go into the library instead of remaining any longer with a group that included Mr. Wickham.

  “Well, that was not what I had been anticipating,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “I expected Miss Bingley to be hanging on to your every word, not your shoes.”

  “I am sure that she would have been eagerly attending to my voice had she the strength to stand up. She certainly made a valiant effort to continue when it was obvious that she could not go on.”

  “And now it seems that we are to have a few days’ reprieve from Mr. Wickham. And from Miss Bingley too. I suppose one should not speak ill of somebody who is ill, but I do find her voice grating. And her company altogether, for that matter. We shall be a more comfortable group this evening without her. I presume that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are to remain.”

  “Nothing was said of them leaving,” Mr. Darcy said, suddenly feeling that he would be very distressed if they did go. “Indeed, we can safely assume that they are staying since Mr. Bennet was intending to squeeze half the officers into his carriage.”

  “So we can,” the colonel agreed with satisfaction. “I believe we can look forward to a merry evening.”

  CHAPTER 30

  …those that are betrayed do feel the treason sharply…

  CYMBELINE, ACT III, SCENE IV

  Once they had sat down in the morning room, Elizabeth realized that Jane was not among them, but she assumed that her sister had returned to attend upon Miss Bingley. In her opinion, that was more generosity than was deserved after the glare which she had witnessed, but even if Jane had noticed it, she would have been forgiving; kindness and tolerance were very much in her nature.

  In another moment, Elizabeth noticed that Mr. Collins was not there either. The explanation for his absence was all too obvious. He had presumably go
ne chasing after Mr. Darcy, pushing himself in where he was not wanted. Her embarrassment at this perceived rudeness was increased by his eventual reappearance with a disgruntled expression upon his face. It appeared that he had been just as rudely dispensed with. But that was only what he deserved.

  He did look very much put out. She was glad that he was only with them for a moment before the carriages were announced. Everybody left, and Mr. Bingley went to see his guests off, leaving Elizabeth on her own since Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were still absent elsewhere.

  She was about to pick up a book when the door was opened, and Jane appeared. Throwing herself rather violently into a chair, she exclaimed, with uncharacteristic indignation, “Filthy hags!”

  “Filthy hags?”

  “The weird sisters.”

  “Are we doing Macbeth now?”

  “We are. With Mr. Bingley’s sisters as the witches.”

  “Are they not your good friends anymore?”

  “No, they most definitely are not.”

  “What have they done?”

  “They have schemed with evil in their hearts.”

  “I can easily believe them to be evil, but do you mean that they schemed against you?”

  “Yes. It is my belief that they encouraged Mr. Collins to propose to me.”

  “He proposed to you?” Elizabeth cried in shock. “I hope you said no.”

  “I did.”

  “Thank goodness for that. But he was supposed to propose to me.”

  “I wish he had. Not that I would have wanted you to endure such an ordeal, but he was determined not to accept my refusal. I do not think I was sufficiently resolute. If you had been the one saying no, he would not have tried to insist that you really meant yes.”