by P. O. Dixon
Dignified Impertinence
Lady Catherine, presumably acting in her late sister’s stead, presided proudly over her brother-in-law’s table. Elizabeth counted her blessings to be seated beside the amiable colonel at a comfortable distance away from her ladyship, for it allowed her the liberty of undertaking a further study of the dinner guests under the gentleman’s tutelage.
By the second course, he had familiarized Elizabeth with all the members of the party as well as the certain knowledge that these were the people with whom she would be spending her time in company for the entirety of the summer.
There was the party from Kent: Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her daughter Miss Anne de Bourgh, and a Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne’s companion, who sat next to her charge, no doubt, to serve Anne’s every whim.
Elizabeth had also learned that the young woman who had been so disappointed that she was not escorted into the dining parlor by Fitzwilliam Darcy was the younger sister of the charming man who so admired Elizabeth’s own dearest sister, Jane. The young lady’s name was Miss Caroline Bingley. As it happened, the elder Mr. Darcy did the honors of escorting Miss Bingley to the room, going so far as to seat the young woman next to him.
How could the young lady not have been honored by such a distinction?
There were two other members of Bingley’s family included among the guests: Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, the former, his brother-in-law and the latter, his elder sister. The former struck Elizabeth as being woefully wanting in manners and decorum—his interest more attuned to the array of fine dishes placed before him than anything happening around him. His wife seemed to give him no mind at all, and when she was not pushing her food around on her plate, she was fumbling with one or another of the strands of brilliant pearls draping her neck.
While Mr. Bingley’s family failed to impress Elizabeth all that much, the same could not be said of the young gentleman himself. What a handsome, agreeable young man he appeared to be—no doubt someone who possessed in a very large degree all the good manners and amiability which seemed to have eluded his sisters. But if there was but one thing that Elizabeth admired most about the gentleman, it was the way he looked at Jane. He really did seem genuinely disappointed in not having had the honor of escorting Jane to the dining parlor. He escorted Mrs. Jenkinson instead. However, his disappointment was no doubt short-lived when he found himself seated directly beside Jane at the table. Fitzwilliam Darcy sat at Jane’s other side.
Elizabeth’s heart was warmed by the prospect of her sister seated between two handsome gentlemen, both very much intent on having their share of the conversation with her. However, Elizabeth would have to say that Mr. Bingley appeared to be the more ardent admirer of the two gentlemen. True enough, Fitzwilliam Darcy was just as attentive to Jane as he had been before, and he was clearly more attentive to Jane than he was to his cousin Anne. However, there was something missing in his manner that was acutely evident in Mr. Bingley’s. Elizabeth wanted to call it adoration, indeed, she was certain that was the term which best described it, but how could it be, she wondered? Mr. Bingley had only met Jane a few hours earlier, yet he could scarcely take his eyes off her.
Elizabeth almost likened Bingley’s manner to the way the younger Mr. Darcy had regarded her when they first met except for one fact, that being the latter had barely looked at her since. If she did not know better, she would have sworn that he was making a concerted effort not to look at her. She had to admit that it pained her just a bit, for she now considered that maybe he was simply looking at her so intently earlier merely to find fault. Maybe he had judged her and found her wanting. On the other hand, perhaps he was simply an enigma. It bothered her that she was unable to read the gentleman—that he was so different from the colonel who sat next to her, for with him, she felt as though she was in the company of someone whom she had known all her life, even though they had only just met.
Silently chastising herself for thinking of Pemberley’s heir in any manner that did not involve his relationship with her sister Jane, Elizabeth allowed her eyes to wander about the magnificent room. Everything that she saw was splendid. Not only was she eager for the next day to come so that she might roam about the grounds at leisure, but she was also contemplating what it must be like to wander the halls of Pemberley for hours at a time, as well, beholding all its splendors.
Try as she might to avoid it, it was absolutely necessary for Elizabeth and all the rest of the dinner party to listen to Lady Catherine talk, which she did with alacrity, delivering her opinion on every subject in so decisive a manner as to prove that she was not used to having her judgment contradicted.
She inquired into the Darcys’ domestic concerns familiarly and minutely and gave a great deal of advice as to the management of the household affairs that ought to be conveyed to the housekeeper—a Mrs. Reynolds. It seemed that nothing was beneath the great lady’s attention, which provided fodder for Elizabeth’s entertainment throughout the first courses.
In the intervals of her discourse with her brother and her nephews, she addressed a variety of questions to Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth and Jane, but especially to the latter, which fit in perfectly with what the colonel had taught Elizabeth to suspect.
Having mentioned to her brother, Mr. Darcy the elder, what genteel, pretty kind of girls he had invited to stay at Pemberley, she then turned to Jane.
“I understand you are the eldest Bennet daughter.”
“Indeed, I am the eldest of five daughters. My sisters Mary, Kitty and Lydia remained in Hertfordshire.”
“Five daughters? Are they all as handsome as you and your next eldest sister, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth felt her color rise in the wake of such unexpected praise. Jane, no doubt suffering sentiments akin to her sister’s, said, “You are very kind, your ladyship.”
“What of your governess? Has she left you?”
Refusing to relinquish her smile, Jane dabbed her lips with her linen napkin before speaking. She then said, “We never had a governess, your ladyship.”
Elizabeth tried not to notice the disgust that overspread the Bingley sisters’ faces in digesting this intelligence. No doubt, those two had been educated in one of the private seminaries in town, and they likely supposed it to be the hallmark of an accomplished young woman.
Aghast, Lady Catherine replied, “No governess? Five daughters at home with no governess. Why I never heard of such a thing. Your dear mother must have been a slave to your education.”
Elizabeth could hardly help smiling as Jane assured her ladyship that had not been the case.
Not content to concede her point, Lady Catherine continued. “Then, who taught you? Who attended to you? Without a governess, you must have been neglected.”
“Compared with some families, I believe we were, but those of us who wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read and draw. Those who chose to be idle were certainly at liberty to act accordingly.”
“Do you play, Miss Bennet?”
“No, your ladyship, I do not.”
“That is very strange. But I suppose you had no opportunity to learn. Your mother should have taken you to town every spring for the benefit of masters.”
“My mother would have had no objection, but my father hates London.”
Elizabeth tossed a furtive glance at her father to see what he might say. His expression, however, was indecipherable.
“Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?” Lady Catherine implored.
“Yes, your ladyship, all of them.”
“All five out at once! How very odd. The younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters must be very young?”
Elizabeth, feeling all the impertinence of Lady Catherine’s questions and no longer willing to allow her sister to be thus interrogated, interceded on Jane’s behalf.
“Our youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps she is rather young to be much in company. But really, ma’am, I think it would be very ha
rd upon younger sisters that they should not have their share of society and amusement because the elder has not yet married. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth as the first, and to be denied such a prospect would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.”
“Upon my word, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. Pray, what is your age?” Lady Catherine demanded.
“With three younger sisters grown up, your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it,” Elizabeth replied.
Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer, causing Elizabeth to suspect herself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence.
“You cannot be more than twenty, I am sure. Therefore, you need not conceal your age.”
“I am not one and twenty.”
“Not yet one and twenty, you say? Then your elder is a year older, at least, and so pretty. Your impertinence will no doubt explain why you have yet to attract a husband, but what must be her excuse?”
“There now, Catherine,” the elder Mr. Darcy interjected, his voice commanding. “I remind you that the Bennets are my honored guests—a distinction which places them beyond such an inquisition.” He threw Mr. Bennet an apologetic look. “As I have no doubt this evening may be the last that many of us will have the pleasure of my old friend Bennet’s company, I should like to enjoy it to the fullest.”
“Oh,” Lady Catherine declared. Her interest clearly piqued, she directed her haughty glare at Mr. Bennet. “I did not know you planned to return to Hertfordshire so soon.”
Elizabeth could not be certain, but she thought she detected a bit of hope in her ladyship’s voice.
She glanced at her father. She always knew him to be a rather reclusive man, content to spend many long solitary hours in the comfort of his own library at Longbourn. Being surrounded by a house full of strangers must surely be a test of his forbearance, she silently considered. Were it not for all the tales her father had recounted of the library at Pemberley, and how it had been the makings of several generations, she was not certain he would be content to stay in Derbyshire for so long as he had planned. As it was, once Elizabeth and Jane were settled, he planned to return to Hertfordshire where he belonged, as he liked to say.
Now that it was absolutely imperative that he have a share in the conversation, Mr. Bennet said, “I am afraid you will not suffer my departure so soon as that Lady Catherine. Indeed, my old friend Darcy no doubt is referring to my penchant for reading, and as Pemberley is said to boast of one of the finest libraries in all of Derbyshire, he rightfully suspects that is where I shall be spending the better part of my time.”
Her ladyship seemed a bit taken aback by Mr. Bennet’s casual attitude when addressing someone of her stature, or perhaps she was simply disappointed that he would remain, along with his two daughters, at Pemberley. Whichever of the two sentiments she suffered more, Elizabeth could not rightfully say.
Not too long thereafter, it was announced that the ladies and gentlemen would separate—the former for tea in the drawing room and the latter for port in Mr. Darcy’s study.
Elizabeth sensed a bit of reluctance on the part of Charles Bingley, and she was certain by the disappointed look in the young man’s eyes that he would much rather remain by Jane’s side. On the other hand, she espied no evidence of disappointment in Fitzwilliam Darcy. She hoped it had nothing at all to do with her sister and everything in the world to do with his cousin Anne. Despite coming across as rather reticent, Anne, when she would speak, did so in a barely audible tone which always commanded her cousin Darcy to draw ever so close simply to hear what she had to say. He always attended her every word most diligently, but beyond that Elizabeth detected no symptom of affection whatsoever between the two of them.
Chapter 7
Manifold Attractions
Upon meeting the Bennets, Lady Catherine de Bourgh had been stricken immediately with the notion of having heard of these people before. But how could that be? How could she possibly have heard anything about a lowly country gentleman from Hertfordshire—one with no fortune, no connections and nothing else of consequence so far as she was concerned? Never in her life of wealth, of status, of rank, and of privilege had she made it her business to know anything about people so wholly unconnected to herself as were these people, and she did not intend to do so now, even though she was being forced to associate with them while at Pemberley.
From her lofty vantage point in the drawing room, Lady Catherine observed, with thinly veiled vigilance, her brother’s sundry guests: the Bennet sisters to her left, the Bingley sisters to her right. More than anything, her ladyship wished she could turn back the hands of time and return to those glorious days of old when people knew their place in society, a time when people of inferior birth, and thereby lesser means, did not dare to aspire to connections with their superiors.
As much as she loved her late sister, Lady Anne, she could not help but blame her for the inclusion of so many inferior people in her midst, for if she had not married George Darcy, no one in the proud Fitzwilliam family would ever have found themselves dining with people who were connected to trade. That she also had married a wealthy gentleman escaped Lady Catherine entirely, for her late husband’s family had fortune and connections.
She was disturbingly familiar with the bargain the elder Mr. Darcy had struck with his old friend all those years ago, but having interrogated the eldest Bennet daughter and found her wanting, Lady Catherine surmised she had nothing to fear in that quarter. Despite the young lady’s manifold attractions, she knew her nephew too well to suppose he would ever align himself with such inconsequential people.
Her ladyship threw a quick glance to her right.
The same may be said of that little upstart, Caroline Bingley. A sardonic smile graced her countenance. I daresay my dearest nephew hardly knows that young woman is alive.
Lady Catherine thus decided that she would remain another week before removing herself from Pemberley to the comforts of her brother’s country home, the earl’s estate in Matlock and her own childhood home, where she was certain to be shielded from such low company.
I shall leave my daughter Anne and her companion here if for no other reason than to serve as a constant reminder to my nephew of where his true affections ought to be.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst sat away from the others, engaged in a private tête-à-tête. Her manner hinting of a bit of playfulness at her sister’s expense, the older woman said in a low voice, “I see there is quite a bit of competition for your Mr. Darcy’s attention, dearest Caroline.”
“Dearest Louisa,” Miss Bingley cried, “pray have a bit of compassion for my nerves. You know very well that such a matter as this is nothing to laugh about.”
“Who’s laughing? I speak nothing but the truth, save that part about the gentleman being your Mr. Darcy.”
“You may laugh all you like, but soon I shall have the last laugh when I am the next mistress of Pemberley.”
“Indeed, the master of Pemberley did escort you into the dining parlor. Did he offer you his hand in marriage along the way?”
“No, he did not and supposing he did, I certainly would not consider such a proposal—not even for all this. When I speak of wishing to be the next mistress of Pemberley, I intend to attain that status by marrying the man that I love.”
“If you say so,” said Mrs. Hurst. Here, she paused and sipped her tea. “No doubt, Miss Bennet is of the same mind. I do not envy our brother, Charles, one bit.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“It seems our brother is quite taken by the lovely Miss Bennet. Perhaps someone ought to tell him that the young lady is here solely for the purpose of securing Fitzwilliam Darcy’s hand in marriage.”
“May I remind you once again, dearest Louisa, that this is no laughing matter. That you would wish to vex me by suggesting such a thing is unf
orgivable. Is it not bad enough that I have to contend with the sickly little Anne de Bourgh’s presence?”
“It is not my intention to vex you. I speak nothing but the truth, for I have it on very good authority.”
“Allow me to guess the source of your intelligence—your lady’s maid.”
“You know how well Mrs. Laxley excels in ferreting out the truth.” Louisa then went on to inform her sister of all the pertinent details as told to her by her lady’s maid.
At length, Caroline said, “Ordinarily, I would believe her, but in such a case like this, I simply cannot. The Darcys may associate with people of such low consequence in comparison to their own, but surely they would never permanently align themselves with such people through marriage,” Caroline decried, conveniently forgetting that their brother's fortune, an inheritance of nearly one hundred thousand pounds, had been acquired by trade.
One thing was certain in Miss Bingley’s eager mind: Her presence at the large gathering at Pemberley that summer was absolutely and undeniably essential. Having spurned more than one offer of marriage since she made the acquaintance of her brother’s friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she felt she had come much too far to abandon her hopes of being the future mistress of Pemberley
She blamed her brother for her lack of success in that particular endeavor thus far, for she was certain that if he would but recommend her to his friend, his friend would then be obliged to be more amenable. She suspected that Mr. Darcy would not be disappointed in the least little bit were her brother to set his cap on the young Miss Georgiana Darcy. As Caroline liked to ask herself, why not make it a family affair?
With or without her brother’s assistance, the young lady was determined that this was her year. She would be engaged to Mr. Darcy by the end of summer for certain, even if she had to resort to those feminine arts and allurements that she had previously shied away from. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
