Mr. Darcy's Diary

by Amanda Grange

  He, at least, has made her stay agreeable, and has taken the trouble to entertain her whenever she was downstairs. It is easy to see why Bingley has made her his flirt. She has a sweetness and openness of manner that makes her agreeable, whilst her feelings are not the sort to be deeply touched. No matter how charming or lively Bingley is, he need have no fear of his intentions being misunderstood.

  ‘And Miss Eliza Bennet,’ said Caroline, with a wide smile. ‘It has been so … charming to have you here.’

  Elizabeth noticed the hesitation and her eyes sparkled with mirth. She replied politely enough, however.

  ‘Miss Bingley. It has been good of you to have me here.’

  To Bingley, she gave a warmer farewell.

  ‘Thank you for all you have done for Jane,’ she said. ‘It made a great difference to me to see that she was so well cared for. Nothing could have been kinder than your banking up of the fires, or your moving of screens to prevent draughts, or your instructing your housekeeper to make some tasty dishes to tempt Jane to eat.’

  ‘I was only sorry I could not do more,’ he said. ‘I hope we will soon see you at Netherfield again.’

  ‘I hope so, too.’

  She turned to me.

  ‘Miss Bennet,’ I said, making her a cold bow.

  She looked surprised for a moment, then a smile appeared in her eyes, and she dropped me a curtsy, replying in stately tones: ‘Mr Darcy.’

  She almost tempted me to smile. But I schooled my countenance into an expression of severity and turned away.

  The party then broke up. Bingley escorted the two young ladies to the carriage and helped them inside. My coldness had not damped Elizabeth’s spitits for one minute. I was glad of it – before reminding myself that Elizabeth’s spirits were not my concern.

  We returned to the drawing-room.

  ‘Well!’ said Caroline. ‘They have gone.’

  I made no reply.

  She turned to Louisa and immediately began talking of household matters, forgetting all about her supposed friend.

  As I write this, I find I am glad that Elizabeth has gone. Now, perhaps I can think of her as Miss Elizabeth Bennet again. I mean to indulge in more rational thoughts, and I will not have to suffer any more of Caroline’s teasing.

  Monday 18th November

  At last, a rational day. Bingley and I examined the south corner of his land. He seems interested in purchasing the estate, and says he is ready to settle. However, he has not been here very long and I shall not believe his intentions are fixed until he has spent a winter here. If he likes it after that, I believe it might be the place for him.

  Caroline was charming this evening. Without Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the house she did not tease me, and we passed a pleasant evening playing at cards. I did not miss Elizabeth at all. I believe I scarcely thought of her half a dozen times all day.

  Tuesday 19th November

  ‘I think we should ride round the rest of the estate today,’ I said to Bingley this morning.

  ‘Later, perhaps,’ he said. ‘I mean to ride over to Longbourn this morning to ask after Miss Bennet’s health.’

  ‘You saw her only the day before yesterday,’ I remarked with a smile; Bingley in the grip of one of his flirtations is most amusing.

  ‘Which means I did not see her yesterday. It is time I made up for my neglect!’ he replied, matching my tone. ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘Very well,’ I said.

  A moment later I regretted it, but I was then annoyed with myself for my cowardice. I can surely sit with Miss Elizabeth Bennet for ten minutes without falling prey to a certain attraction, and besides, there is no certainty that I will see her. She might very well be from home.

  We rode out after breakfast. Our way took us through Meryton, and we saw the object of our ride in the main street. Miss Bennet was taking the air with her sisters. On hearing our horses’ hoofs she looked up.

  ‘I was riding over to see how you did, but I can see you are much better. I am glad of it,’ said Bingley, touching his hat.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, with a charming, easy smile.

  ‘You have lost your paleness, and have some colour in your cheeks.’

  ‘The fresh air has done me good,’ she said.

  ‘You walked into Meryton?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You have not tired yourself, I hope?’ he added with a frown.

  ‘No, thank you, the exercise was beneficial. I have spent so much time indoors that I am glad to be outside again.’

  ‘My feelings are exactly the same. If ever I am ill, I cannot wait to be out of doors as soon as I am well enough.’

  Whilst they went on in this manner, with Bingley looking as happy as though Miss Bennet had escaped the clutches of typhus rather than a trifling cold, I studiously avoided looking at Elizabeth. I let my eyes drift over the rest of the group instead. I saw the three younger Bennet girls, one of them carrying a book of sermons and the other two giggling together, and a heavy young man whom I had not seen before. By his dress he was a clergyman, and he appeared to be in attendance on the ladies. I was just reflecting that perhaps his presence explained why Miss Mary Bennet was clutching a book of sermons when I received an unwelcome surprise, nay a terrible shock. At the edge of the group there were two further gentlemen. One was Mr Denny, an officer whom Bingley and I had already met. The other was George Wickham.

  George Wickham! That odious man, who betrayed my father’s belief in him and almost ruined my sister! To be forced to meet him again, at such a time and in such a place…. It was abominable.

  I thought I had done with him. I thought I would never have to see him again. But there he was, talking to Denny as though he had not a care in the world. And I suppose he had not, for he has never cared about anything in his life, unless it is himself.

  He turned his head towards me. I felt myself grow white, and saw him grow red. Our eyes met. Anger, disgust and contempt shot from mine. But, recovering himself quickly, a damnable impertinence shot from his. He had the audacity to touch his hat. To touch his hat! To me! I would have turned away, but I had too much pride to create a scene, and I forced myself to return his salute.

  My courtesy was for nothing, however. Catching a glimpse of Miss Elizabeth Bennet out of the corner of my eye, I saw that she had noticed our meeting, and she was not deceived for an instant. She knew that something was badly wrong between us.

  ‘But we must not keep you,’ I heard Bingley saying.

  I felt, rather than saw, him turn towards me.

  ‘Come, Darcy, we must be getting on.’

  I was only too willing to fall in with his suggestion. We bade the ladies goodbye and rode on.

  ‘She is feeling much better, and believes herself to be quite well again,’ said Bingley.

  I did not reply.

  ‘She looked well, I thought,’ said Bingley.

  Again, I did not reply.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ asked Bingley, at last catching my mood.

  ‘No, nothing,’ I said shortly.

  ‘Nay, Darcy, this will not do. Something has troubled you.’

  But I would not be drawn. Bingley knows nothing of the trouble I had with Wickham over the summer, and I do not want to enlighten him. Georgiana’s foolishness would cast a shadow over her reputation if it was known, and I am determined Bingley shall never hear of it.

  Wednesday 20th November

  I rode out early this morning, without asking Bingley if he chose to go with me, for I wanted to be on my own.

  George Wickham, in Meryton!

  It has robbed my visit of its pleasure. Even worse, I am haunted by a glimpse of memory, something so slight I can hardly be sure if it is real. But it will not leave me, and fills my dreams. It is this: when I rode up to the ladies yesterday, I thought I saw an expression of admiration on Elizabeth’s face as she looked at Wickham.

  Surely she cannot prefer him to me!

  What am I saying? H
er feelings for me are unimportant. As are her feelings for George Wickham. If she wishes to admire him, it is her concern.

  I cannot believe she will still admire him when she finds him out, and find him out she will. He has not changed. He is still the wastrel he has always been, and she is too intelligent to be deceived for long.

  And yet he has a handsome face. The ladies have always admired it. And he has an ease of manner and style of address which make him well liked amongst those who do not know him, whereas I …

  I cannot believe I am comparing myself to George Wickham! I must be mad. And yet if Elizabeth … I must not think of her as Elizabeth.

  If she chooses to compare us, then so be it. It will prove she is beneath my notice, and I will no longer be troubled by thoughts of her.

  Thursday 21st November

  Bingley declared his intention of going to Longbourn to give the Bennets an invitation to his ball. Caroline and Louisa eagerly agreed to go with him, but I declined, saying I had some letters to write. Caroline immediately declared that she had some letters to write, too, but Bingley told her they could wait until she returned. I was pleased. I did not want company today. I cannot keep my thoughts from George Wickham. From the local talk, I gather he is thinking of joining the regiment. No doubt he thinks he will look well in a scarlet coat.

  Worse still, Bingley has included all the officers in his invitation to Netherfield, and I fear Wickham might join them. I have no wish to see him, and yet I will not avoid the ball. It is not up to me to avoid him. He is a scoundrel and a villain but I will not upset Bingley by refusing to attend his ball.

  Friday 22nd November

  A wet day. I was able to ride out with Bingley this morning, but then the rain poured down and we were obliged to stay indoors. We whiled away the time by talking of the estate and Bingley’s plans for it. His sisters gave us the benefit of their views on necessary alterations to the house and the time passed pleasantly enough, though I missed Elizabeth’s lively company.

  Saturday 23rd November

  Another wet day. Caroline was in a provoking mood. I am glad Elizabeth was not here, or she would have surely borne the brunt of Caroline’s ill-humour. Bingley and I retired to the billiard-room. It is a good thing the house possesses one, or I believe we should have been terribly bored.

  Sunday 24th November

  I received a letter from Georgiana this morning. She is doing well with her studies, and is happy. She is beginning a new concerto with her music master, a man who I am happy to say is almost in his dotage, and she is enjoying herself.

  The rain continued. Caroline and Louisa amused themselves by deciding what they will wear for the ball, whilst Bingley and I discussed the war. I am beginning to find the country tiresome. At home, at Pemberley, I have plenty to occupy me, but here there is little to do beyond reading or playing billiards when the weather is poor.

  I will be interested to see if this spell of wet weather dissuades Bingley from buying Netherfield. A country estate in the sunshine is a very different thing from a country estate in the rain.

  Monday 25th November

  I am glad of the ball. At least, if we have another wet day tomorrow, we will have something to occupy us.

  Tuesday 26th November

  The morning was wet, and I spent it writing letters. This afternoon, Bingley and his sisters were involved in final preparations for the ball. I had little to do and was vexed to find myself thinking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, so much so that when the party from Longbourn arrived this evening I found myself looking for her. I thought I had put her out of my mind, but I am not as impervious to her as I had supposed.

  ‘Jane looks charming,’ said Caroline, as her brother moved forward to greet Miss Bennet.

  ‘It is a pity the same cannot be said for her sister,’ said Louisa. ‘What is Miss Elizabeth Bennet wearing?’

  Caroline regarded her with a droll eye.

  ‘Miss Eliza Bennet scorns fashion, and is wearing a dress that is three inches too long and uses a great deal too much lace. Do you not think so, Mr Darcy?’

  ‘I know nothing about ladies’ fashions,’ I said, ‘but she looks very well to me.’

  Caroline was silenced, but only for a moment.

  ‘I wonder who she can be looking for? She is certainly looking for someone.’

  ‘She is probably looking for the officers,’ said Louisa.

  ‘Then she is not as quick as her sisters, for they have already found them,’ said Caroline.

  The younger girls had run noisily across the ballroom, and were greeting the officers with laughs and squeals.

  ‘If they move any closer to Mr Denny, they will suffocate him!’ remarked Louisa.

  ‘You would not like to see your sister behaving in such a way with the officers, I am persuaded,’ said Caroline, turning to me.

  She did not mean to wound me, and yet her remark could not have been less well chosen. It sent my thoughts to Georgiana, and from thence to Wickham, who was to don a red coat. No, I would not like to see it, but I was uncomfortably aware that if I had not arrived in Ramsgate without warning, it could almost have come to pass.

  Caroline looked alarmed as my face went white, but I managed to reply coolly, enough: ‘Are you comparing my sister to Lydia Bennet?’

  ‘They are the same age!’ said Louisa, with a trill of laughter.

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Caroline quickly, realizing she had made a mistake. ‘There can be no comparison. I meant only that the Bennet girls are allowed to run wild.’

  I gave a cool nod and then moved away from her, hoping that Elizabeth’s glances round the room had been for me. As I drew close to the officers, I heard Denny saying to Miss Lydia Bennet that Wickham was not there as he had been forced to go out of town for a few days.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, her face dropping.

  Elizabeth had joined them and she, too, looked disappointed. I remembered the look she had bestowed on Wickham in Meryton and I felt my hands clench as I realized with an unpleasant shock that when she had entered the ballroom she had been looking for Wickham, and not for me.

  ‘I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here,’ I overheard Mr Denny saying.

  So he had turned coward, had he? I could not wonder at it. Courage was never a part of Wickham’s character. Imposing on the gullible, deceiving the innocent and seducing young girls, that was his strength.

  But surely Elizabeth was not gullible? No. She was not to be so easily taken in. She might not have found him out yet, but I was confident she would do so. In the meantime, I did not want to miss the opportunity of speaking to her.

  I continued walking towards her.

  ‘I am glad to see you here. I hope you had a pleasant journey?’ I asked. ‘This time, I hope you did not have to walk!’

  ‘No, I thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I came in the carriage.’

  I wondered if I had offended her. Perhaps she felt I had meant my remark as a slight on her family’s inability to keep horses purely for their carriage. I tried to repair the damage of my first remark.

  ‘You are looking forward to the ball?’

  She turned and looked at me directly.

  ‘It is the company that makes a ball, Mr Darcy. I enjoy any entertainment at which my friends are present.’

  ‘Then I am sure you will enjoy your evening here,’ I said.

  She turned away with a degree of ill-humour that shocked me. She did not even manage to overcome it when speaking to Bingley, and I resolved I had done with her. Let her turn her shoulder when I spoke to her. Let her prefer Wickham to me. I wanted nothing more to do with her.

  She left her sisters and crossed the room to speak to her friend, Miss Lucas, and then her hand was sought by the heavy young clergyman I had seen with her at Meryton. Despite my anger, I could not help but feel sorry for her. I had never seen a display of more mortifying dancing in my life. From her express
ion, I could tell she felt the same. He went left when he should have gone right. He went back when he should have gone forward. And yet she danced as well as if she had had an expert partner.

  When I saw her leaving the floor, I was moved to ask for the next dance. I was frustrated in this by her dancing with one of the officers, but then I moved forward and asked for the next dance. She looked surprised, and I felt it, for as soon as I had asked for her hand I wondered what I was about. Had I not decided to take no further notice of her? But it was done. I had spoken, and I could not unspeak my offer.

  She accepted, though out of surprise more than anything else, I think. I could find nothing to say to her, and walked away, determined to spend my time with more rational people until it was time for the dance to begin.

  We went out on to the floor. There were looks of amazement all around us, though I am sure I do not know why. I might not have chosen to dance at the assembly, but that is a very different situation from a private ball.

  I tried to think of something to say, but I found that I was speechless. It surprised me. I have never been at a loss before. To be sure, I do not always find it easy to talk to those I do not know very well, but I can generally think of at least a pleasantry. I believe the hostility I felt coming from Elizabeth robbed me of my sense.

  At last she said: ‘This is an agreeable dance.’

  Coming from a woman whose wit and liveliness delight me, it was a dry remark, and I made no reply.

  After a few minutes, she said: ‘It is your turn to say something now, Mr Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.’

  This was more like Elizabeth.