by P. O. Dixon
Desperate times indeed. Miss Bingley eyed Lady Catherine de Bourgh proudly perched on a fine velvet-covered chair as though she were a queen. It seemed there was not a single living soul in all of England who did not know that her ladyship was determined to force an alliance between her sickly daughter - an heiress no less - and her nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy. Knowing the latter as well as she liked to suppose she did, Miss Bingley was hardly threatened by that unlikely event unfolding. However, the intelligence from her brother that two other young ladies were to be part of the country party was a matter of some concern to Miss Bingley.
If what her sister had said was true, everything she knew about Fitzwilliam Darcy informed her he was simply going along with the current scheme for the appeasement of his excellent father.
Surely he intends to marry someone of his own choosing. The man I know and love is too independent and strong-willed to do any such thing as agreeing to an arranged marriage that was conceived by two half-intoxicated young men years before he was born.
Still, she would leave nothing to chance. There was always the possibility that this Miss Bennet might not be so easy to get rid of, especially once she had laid eyes on the beautiful grounds at Pemberley and enjoyed a summer-long glimpse of all that the life of the future mistress of Pemberley must surely entail. Indeed, Miss Bingley did not intend to leave anything to chance. Her plan was to spend as much time in company with Fitzwilliam Darcy over the coming weeks as she possibly could—reminding him at every turn of just how perfect she was and how she possessed everything he might possibly wish for in a wife.
“No doubt, our brother is being thoroughly acquainted with all the particulars of the Bennets’ presence here as we speak,” said Louisa, effectively piercing her sister’s silent conjecturing.
“I dearly hope you are mistaken. It is not my wish that he should be told of the peculiar nature of the Bennets’ presence here at Pemberley,” Miss Bingley replied sharply. “On the contrary, I am more than pleased to have Charles do everything in his power to divert Miss Bennet. Let our brother bask in her smiles. I prefer that one hundred times more than the prospect of watching her simper in that silly, affected manner of hers at Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Oh, my! You are quite severe on the young woman,” cried the elder sister, her hand on her ample bosom. “Do I hear you correctly, dear sister? Are you hoping our brother and Miss Bennet might fall in love? What happened to your favorite wish for an alliance between Charles and young Miss Georgiana Darcy?”
“Oh, Louisa. You know that I want Charles to marry Georgiana. Just think of what such an alliance will mean for our entire family’s standing.” Miss Bingley did not need to say more to her sister. Although her sister had married a gentleman, Mr. Hurst was nothing at all in Miss Bingley’s estimation. A gentleman with little wealth and no true connections to speak of, her sister’s alliance had barely opened doors to the Bingleys. Indeed, it was Charles Bingley’s friendship with the heir of Pemberley, the nephew of the Earl of Matlock, that had done that.
Continuing her speech, Miss Bingley said, “The last thing in the world I would ever wish for is an alliance between our family and the likes of the Bennets. In fact, I would move heaven and earth to prevent such a prospect. But that does not mean that I cannot pretend to like Miss Bennet and encourage Charles to entertain her, for lack of a better word. I likened it to killing two birds with one stone, if you will. Mr. Darcy will see that young woman for the mercenary that she is and send her on her way long before our brother is in any real danger from her.”
Mrs. Hurst smirked. She could not have been more pleased with the prospect her sister proposed, for one way or the other she was bound to be thoroughly entertained. Her sister was dogged in her pursuit of Mr. Darcy, and now she had real competition.
Meanwhile, Bingley was unusually quiet, going so far as to move away from the other gentlemen drinking port and enjoying George Darcy’s finest cigars. His mind was down the hall. His thoughts, on the angel with whom he had just had the pleasure of dining. How lovely he thought she was. No lovely was not the word. Miss Bennet of Longbourn was absolutely divine. He could hardly wait to return to the drawing room and resume his ardent attentions toward her. As he was wont to do when in the face of such a beautiful creature, he had made it a point of singling her out even though oddly enough, his friend Darcy also paid a great deal more attention to her than he was wont to do under such circumstances. Bingley surmised that Darcy was merely acting the part of the gracious son toward his father’s guest.
Miss Bennet is not the type of young woman who might garner Darcy’s notice, Charles Bingley reminded himself. On the other hand, she is precisely the sort of woman who is destined to capture my heart with her lovely angelic smiles, her poise, her grace and her charms. It shall be a great pleasure getting better acquainted with her.
“You are rather reserved this evening,” said Darcy, approaching his friend’s side with two snifters in hand. He handed one to Bingley. “Do I even need to ask what you are about?”
Bingley took a sip of his drink. “I am afraid you know me all too well. I have been meditating on Miss Bennet’s angelic eyes. I do believe she is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”
Beyond a nod and a smile, Darcy said nothing.
“Her sister is very pretty, and I dare say exceedingly agreeable.”
Here again, Darcy said nothing.
“Pray, do not tell me you disagree with me.”
“Very well, I will not.”
Not certain what to think of his friend’s reticence to speak on a matter for which there could be no opposing opinion, Bingley cried, “My goodness man, I would not be so fastidious as you are for a kingdom!”
* * *
What was Darcy to say in the face of his friend’s rebuke? That he agreed with his assessment of the younger Bennet daughter? How fair would that have been to her sister, Bingley’s unabashed espousals aside? The moment Darcy had laid eyes on Miss Jane Bennet, one of his first thoughts was how his friend Charles Bingley would think her the perfect angel. It did not go unnoticed by Darcy that Bingley had singled out Miss Bennet as the object of his admiration the instant she walked into the room with her sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Upon joining the women in the drawing room a little while later, it was all Darcy could do not to stare at the younger of the two Bennet sisters. It simply would not do. He had promised to make amends for what the elder might have perceived as a slight on his part toward her, upon first greeting her earlier that day. He knew he would have no luck attending to Miss Jane Bennet, so long as her younger sister was in proximity, and thus he was grateful when his father approached the two ladies to claim the arm of the older and proceeded to place her directly in Darcy’s way.
Fortunately for Darcy, his friend lost no time in joining the two of them once Darcy’s father took his leave, thus allowing Darcy to play the part of the dutiful son with very little trouble to himself. As beautiful as Miss Bennet was, in Darcy’s estimation she simply smiled too much, reminding him of many of the young women whose eager mamas actively paraded before him whenever he was among society. He wished he could say that Miss Bennet’s conversation was vastly superior to the other young ladies of his acquaintance, but indeed he could not for he hardly attended a word she said. Thank heavens for his friend Bingley, who was just the sort of amiable fellow who could easily carry a conversation, and who talked enough for both of them.
This situation allowed Darcy to contemplate another couple in the room: his cousin the colonel and the lovely Miss Elizabeth. Her manners, although not those of the fashionable world, captivated him by their easy playfulness. How he wished to be sharing in their conversation that he, too, might be the recipient of her teasing smiles.
I must not think this way.
Chapter 8
Unsisterly-like Sentiments
Elizabeth did not know much about the two Bingley sisters, but she was well on her way to disliking the two o
f them very much. Just the thought of Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Louisa Hurst cast a pall on her spirits. The last thing she meant to do upon rising so early that morning was to waste time dwelling on those two. She meant to explore the lovely paths and thoroughly acquaint herself with those that no doubt would be among her favorites. Despite the colonel’s chivalrous good intentions the evening before, she also did not mean to accept his offer to walk with her, at least not during her first outing of the morning. What with everything around her being so exciting and new, she meant to relish her each and every discovery wholly unencumbered by those civilities that being an engaging companion entailed.
Perhaps, I shall have an opportunity to tour the grounds with the colonel later today.
As much as she wanted to think of something else, the matter of the Bingley sisters haunted her. The manner in which the two of them proceeded to fawn all over Jane when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies somehow rang insincere. It almost seemed as though they meant to encourage their brother to admire Jane by frequently engaging him in their conversations.
Elizabeth hoped she was worrying for naught. But just in case her worry was warranted, she meant to warn Jane to be extremely circumspect where those two ladies were concerned. Not that she had not tried the night before, but it was not in Jane’s nature to think meanly of anyone nor to suspect that the face a person presented to the world was contrary to his or her true character.
After walking along for a time, relishing in what felt like her own private sanctuary, Elizabeth looked at her watch. Much to her dismay, she had walked longer than she had intended. Much longer, she considered as she spun round on her heels and proceeded to return to the manor house.
What will the Darcys think of me, should I fail to make an appearance at breakfast this morning? Exploring the grounds had occupied her so thoroughly that upon coming to a fork in the wooded path, Elizabeth was not entirely certain she knew which direction would lead her back to where she meant to be.
She was just about to strike out on the path to her left when the sound of horse steps drew her attention. Turning, she espied Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. She knew not whether he was simply out enjoying an early morning ride or if he had come in search of her. He dismounted. Taking the horse by its reins in his gloved hand, he stopped a short distance from where Elizabeth stood and bowed slightly.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said the gentleman, his melodic voice accompanied by his brooding stare which sent a frisson of anticipation through her body.
All too aware that these were the first two words he had uttered to her since making his acquaintance, Elizabeth’s stomach fluttered a bit. She did not dare admit how the sound of his voice made her quiver inside. Besides, to whom would she make such a telling confession? Certainly not to Jane. He was, after all, Jane’s prospective suitor.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, curtsying. “Pray I have not caused you to come all this way in search of me.”
“No,” he said.
His taciturn manner in addition to his gaze left her feeling a bit uneasy.
“I was enjoying a morning walk,” she announced, more eagerly than she had intended.
“Do you often ramble about during the early morning hours to parts unknown?” The look he bestowed spoke volumes. “Alone, no less,” he added.
“I am very fond of walking, sir.”
“Indeed.”
Her courage rising in the wake of what she perceived as chastisement, she responded, “Are you judging me, Mr. Darcy?”
“Judging you? No. Questioning you? Indeed. I would go further to caution you to be more prudent in your choice of paths—that is until you are more familiar with Pemberley Woods.”
“I shall take your words under advisement, sir.” And with that, she abruptly turned on her heels with the intention of returning to the manor house, preferably alone. It simply would not do to spend too much time with the gentleman so certain was she that if she were not careful, she might grow afraid of him. That would never do.
“Where are you going?” Darcy inquired. “If you do not mind my asking.”
“No, I do not mind your asking, sir. I am returning to the manor house before my continued absence arouses my family’s concern.”
“Then might I suggest you choose the path to the right, Miss Elizabeth. I have it on good authority that it leads directly to the manor house.”
She arched her brow. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I would not dare. In fact, if you will allow me to be of service, I will be more than happy to escort you.”
“I do not believe that is necessary,” she said. In fact, the last thing she wanted was to be seen with him. Heaven forbid if that jealous Miss Bingley were to begin thinking she had yet another competitor for the gentleman’s attention.
“If you are concerned about what others will think if the two of us were to be seen walking together at this hour, then you need not be. You are perfectly safe with me.”
I suppose that is a matter of opinion, she thought but did not say.
In response to her silence, he said, “I am more than happy to offer you my steed. I will walk.”
“Oh! Heaven forbid, sir. Even if I were inclined to ride your horse, which I absolutely am not, I would never dream of inconveniencing you in such a manner.”
“Trust me, it is no inconvenience at all. Allow me to assist you,” Mr. Darcy offered.
If Elizabeth did not know better, she would have sworn the gentleman was flirting with her. How in the world did he expect to assist her in any way that would not result in more familiarity than ought to be allowed between two people so wholly unconnected as the two of them?
“Sir, you are very kind,” she said coolly. “However, as I said, I am not inclined to ride horseback.” Wanting to offer him a reasonable explanation, she went on to say, “You see, Mr. Darcy, I am not a horsewoman. Indeed, I never learned to ride.”
Darcy laughed a little at this confession. His spirits rising to playfulness, he threw a furtive glance over his shoulder as if looking to see if anyone was about. “Pray do not let my aunt Lady Catherine hear you say such a thing. You know how concerned she is about your having no governess.”
Elizabeth laughed a little too in recollection of her ladyship’s outrage. “Indeed. But you need not worry that all the Bennet daughters have been remiss in that regard. My sister Jane is an excellent horsewoman, as I am certain you will discover over the coming days and weeks.”
His manner suddenly cool and grave, he said, “No doubt.” Just as quickly, he resumed his former attitude just a bit. “Still there is the matter of your expeditious return to the manor house. I really would be honored if you would allow me to accompany you. There is much I would enjoy discussing with you.”
“About my sister Jane,” Elizabeth said with some enthusiasm.
Darcy nodded a little. “Indeed.”
* * *
Disguise of any sort was Darcy’s abhorrence. The secret that he was keeping from everyone, even his closest friend the colonel, about his father’s ailing health and the fact that he was pretending to give some consideration to marriage caused him no small measure of discomfort. He took some comfort in the fact that he was not entirely dishonest in urging his companion to allow him to accompany her back to the manor house. If discussing her elder sister was the means of accomplishing his goal of spending time with Miss Elizabeth, then far be it from him to do otherwise. What better way to satisfy his own increasing curiosity about her.
“You mentioned that your sister - that Miss Bennet - is an excellent horsewoman and yet you do not ride horses at all. Why is that, if I might ask?”
“Unlike me, Jane never witnessed another person being tossed from a horse and sustaining a debilitating injury.”
The two exchanged looks, hers laced with a semblance of the pain she suffered at the time and his filled with empathy.
“I am sorry you had to suffer such an unpleasant experience, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Sir, you are very kind. However, that was many years ago, and I am only reminded of it when in proximity to one of those fierce creatures.” Here she glanced over her shoulder. She bit her lower lip.
Seeing this, Darcy ceased his step and approached his horse. He whispered in the beast’s ear and then secured the reins to its saddle. Seconds later, the fierce animal was on its way - racing ahead. Alone.
Removing his gloves one by one and then clasping his hands behind his back, Darcy said, “How is that, Miss Elizabeth?”
Her spirits rising to playfulness, she said, “Again, sir, you are far too kind to me.”
“As you are my guest, I hope you will find that I am more than happy to do whatever it takes to be of service to you,” Darcy said. “You and your sister,” he added, smiling.
* * *
If Elizabeth secretly delighted in admiring his brooding mien, seeing him smile really stole her breath away. Indeed, she had seen him smile a time or two the evening before but not like this. My sister Jane is a most fortunate woman, she reminded herself.
Allowing her mind to wander, she wondered what it would be like if that particular smile of his was meant for her alone. How fortunate it would be if she were the woman who garnered his esteem.
No, I must not allow myself to think this way, else it will be a very long, hot and tumultuous summer, at the end of which this man might be my brother.
Try as she might to do otherwise, she could not help but consider the prospect especially as they resumed their leisurely pace, not arm in arm she thankfully considered, but close enough for her to appreciate his scent, fresh and masculine. Her mind was so busily engaged in ways to distract herself from thinking of her walking companion as anything other than her sister’s suitor that she missed a step. She nearly tumbled, and before she knew it, she was practically in Mr. Darcy’s arms.
