by Beau North
“Y-yes.” Elizabeth brightened, putting her arm around her friend. “We’re here for Charlotte’s birthday.”
Bingley let go of the breath he’d been holding, disappointed and relieved. He didn’t know whether he could stand seeing Jane again. He also didn’t know whether he could stand not seeing her again. He nodded and threw himself into a seat without saying a word, staring listlessly at the racetrack.
Elizabeth took a seat next to Bingley and began speaking quietly to him, words of comfort. Bingley scraped a hand along his jaw, wishing he’d taken the time to shave and put on a pressed shirt. His heart was still thumping wildly in his chest at the surprise of seeing Elizabeth there. Just for a moment, he’d thought she might have been there, too.
“You left Meryton in such a hurry, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said. “We didn’t get the chance to say a proper farewell.”
Bingley shifted in his seat. “Yes, well. I imagine…Meryton was ready to see the back of me.”
Elizabeth patted his arm. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I know my…hometown very well, and I’ve been under the impression that Meryton misses you a great deal.”
Every word was a knife twist in his heart. He wondered just how forthcoming Jane had been with her sister. Did Elizabeth not realize it was Jane who’d ended things between them?
“Being new to the area, you might not have known all the facts about Meryton,” Elizabeth said. “The town has…an interesting history.”
Bingley opened his mouth to reply when a shadow fell over them. They looked up in unison to find Darcy standing there, blotting out the sun.
***
Darcy couldn’t bear seeing the misery on his friend’s face a moment longer. He blurted, “We have excellent seats,” making everyone turn to look at him. He didn’t care how strange he sounded, or that Anne was looking at him like she’d never seen him before; he only saw the speculative look on Elizabeth’s face.
“Plenty of room if you’d like to join us.”
Charlotte said, “We couldn’t impose—”
“Please,” Anne interrupted, spurred by Darcy’s outburst. “It would be our pleasure.”
Elizabeth and Charlotte exchanged an unreadable look. Darcy would give anything to know the unspoken thing that passed between them. Charlotte seemed almost smug.
“We’d love to,” Charlotte said with a small, satisfied smile.
“Your cousin’s with us,” Darcy said to Elizabeth by way of warning. “Mr. Collins is often with my aunt.”
A furrow appeared on Elizabeth’s brow. “It’s to be a good birthday after all, Charlotte. Every girl should see her beau on her birthday,” she said, somewhat forced.
Darcy thought she was teasing her friend, but the apologetic look on Charlotte’s face spoke otherwise. The news surprised him. He’d thought Charlotte Lucas had more sense.
“Then it’s settled,” he said with some diplomacy. He waited as everyone stood, gathering their things. Elizabeth looped her arm through Bingley’s, still speaking softly to him.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Anne whispered at his side as they made their way up to the DeBourgh’s stadium box. “Another conquest?”
Darcy colored. Anne had a way of teasing out the details of his past exploits. And not just his. His cousins Richard and James had gamely shared stories of their escapades. James had told Darcy once that Anne wrote all of their stories down in a book she kept hidden inside her mattress. He shook his head; thinking of James was still painful for all of them.
“Nothing like that,” Darcy said, trying not to sound so flustered. “Honestly, Anne, your mind lives in the gutter.”
Anne gasped. “Could it be love, Will? What will Mother say?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
In truth, Darcy was very much afraid of love. His life had been an orderly routine before that hot summer day when he first heard Elizabeth Bennet’s voice, and he had been perfectly satisfied with it. He admired her; there was no denying it. He would even admit he was infatuated with her, but infatuations faded. He just had to wait it out. He was sure he would always be fond of her, but love?
Darcy was relieved to see that Caroline Bingley was nowhere to be found when they stepped into their box. Unfortunately, his aunt and Mr. Collins were right where they had left them.
“William, I thought you’d abandoned me,” Catherine said as soon as she saw him. “Anne, you look much too flushed. Sit down right this minute. Who is this you’ve brought with you?”
Darcy ground his teeth involuntarily, considering for the first time that Elizabeth Bennet was not the only person who could claim embarrassing relatives.
“Cousin Elizabeth.”
“Cousin Lee,” Elizabeth said, knowing he hated the nickname. “Here’s our Charlotte—on her birthday, no less.” Collins gave Charlotte a cool smile and hurried over to introduce her to his patron.
“Miss Catherine, this is Charlotte Lucas. Her father is the mayor of Meryton.” Charlotte said her how-do-you-do’s in a subdued voice. Continuing he said, “And this is my cousin, Elizabeth Bennet. Her family used to farm.”
Darcy felt his hands clench into fists. The man is ruder than even I am, he thought. Rather than bristling at Collins’s words, Elizabeth turned to his aunt with a winning smile.
“A pleasure, Mrs. DeBourgh. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”
Darcy almost laughed; he doubted his aunt would agree with Elizabeth’s version of “wonderful.”
Catherine DeBourgh gave her an assessing look. “You’re very pretty for a farm girl,” she said frankly. Darcy could actually see the laughter in Elizabeth’s eyes though none graced her lips.
“As my cousin said, I’m a farm girl no longer. Mr. Darcy has the pleasure of owning that venture now.”
“The cotton operation?” Catherine sniffed. “That was very smart of him. He always was clever. No doubt your family was paid well.”
Both Anne and Darcy paled in mortification. Elizabeth smiled brilliantly as though she faced such embarrassment every day.
“I’m afraid I wasn’t privy to those details, Miss Catherine, though I have read quite a bit in the paper about your nephew’s recent success in textiles. You’re quite right to be proud of him.”
Darcy felt caught up in a wave of confusion. Was she sincere or humoring his aunt? Had she been following him in the papers, or was she only interested in the success of the farm?
“The papers!” Catherine’s face was scandalized. “You’re not one of those young women who want to do all the men’s work I hope. It was all well and good while there was a war on, but that foolishness should be set aside.”
“I assure you, I only intend to be as useful as God made me,” Elizabeth said archly.
The announcer’s voice rang throughout the stands, letting the crowd know that the race was about to begin.
“Come, sit by me,” Catherine said to Elizabeth. Darcy thought his aunt seemed charmed despite herself. He could relate all too well. “Tell me about your family, young lady,” Catherine said as if they were sitting in the parlor at Rosings House. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Darcy sighed. It was going to be a long day.
***
Charlotte turned around in the front seat of John’s Ford coupe. Elizabeth reclined against the back seat, fidgeting with her pink hat now in her lap. The sunset shone through the window, giving her chestnut hair a flame-red cast. She smiled distractedly at her best friend.
“Did you have a good time for your birthday, darling?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Charlotte said with a sly look. “Mr. Darcy seems as keen on you as ever.”
“Don’t tease me so,” Elizabeth muttered, twisting the brim of her hat. John glanced in the rearview mirror, shaking his head.
“Your suitors are piling up.” He chuckled. “You’re going to have to do something about them.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up.
“
You should just marry me, John,” she said. “I’m not so bad, after all.”
“That’s not funny, Lizzie,” he protested weakly. “You’re like my little sister.”
In truth, John wouldn’t have minded so much. He’d always thought of Elizabeth as a friend, and he believed that was just as good a foundation for a successful marriage as love. The thing that held him back was his suspicion that Will Darcy would break him in half if he even thought about trying. Charlotte wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Darcy’s helpless fascination with Elizabeth.
John liked Elizabeth plenty, but he liked not having broken ribs more.
***
Darcy turned the framed tintype of Stonewall Jackson face down on the mantle. He always hated his aunt’s proclivity for celebrating their family’s ties to the Old South, especially their blood relation to a renowned Confederate general. For him, Rosings House was a crumbling monument of shame, right down to the squat brick building behind the house that had once housed slaves.
“It’s all a bit macabre, isn’t it?” Bingley said from one of his aunt’s uncomfortable armchairs, well in his cups. “The Lost Cause and all that.” He grunted a laugh. “Lost cause.”
Darcy sighed, the past weighing heavily on him in more ways than one. He looked at his friend, usually so cheerful and easygoing, now staring grumpily at nothing and clutching a glass of rye whiskey. His aunt had gone to bed hours ago, and Anne had only just followed suit, giving Darcy his chance to broach this most sensitive subject.
“Elizabeth Bennet seemed happy to see you today,” he said to Bingley, who made a noncommittal snort. “The planting at Longbourn will start next week. I’d like to be there for it.” Still Bingley said nothing. “You could come with me,” Darcy said. “A month at Netherfield might do you some good.”
“You go. Nobody needs me at Longbourn.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Charles!” Darcy slammed his hand against the mantle, not caring if he woke up everyone in the house. “This has gone on long enough!”
Bingley stared up at his friend in surprise and then anger.
“You don’t know anything about it, Darcy,” Bingley snapped. “I’ll not go where I’m not wanted. You want to see your cotton planted, be my guest, but leave me out of it!”
With another sigh, Darcy lowered himself into his aunt’s favorite chair, putting his feet up carelessly on the little spindle-legged table in the middle of the sitting room.
“I know more about it than you might think, Charles.” Then Darcy started recounting his side of things, leaving nothing out. The more he talked, the lighter he felt until when he was done and left with the feeling of having poison drawn out of him—hollowed out, but in a good way.
“You should have come to me first,” Bingley said in a much more subdued tone. He put his whiskey aside.
“Far be it from me to do the sensible thing.”
Bingley shook his head. “I understand, of course. And don’t think I’m not going to cuff the hell out of you for it later. First things first though…maybe, maybe this can be salvaged.”
“I know it can,” Darcy said. “For you, at least.”
Bingley gave him an assessing look. “You really saw Lizzie Bennet swimming in my pond, naked as the day she was born?”
“You can stop that train of thought right there, or I’ll stop it for you.” Bingley only smiled, his question well answered.
“What do we do now?” Bingley asked. “You got us into this mess. How are you going to get us out?”
They stayed up late into the night talking.
And planning.
***
Two days later, phones from one end of Meryton to the other started ringing off the hook as one matron after another shared the big news, the gossip in town spreading faster than a brushfire in high summer.
The Bingleys were coming back to Netherfield.
Chapter Six
April 1949
First Presbyterian Church
Meryton, South Carolina
“There’s nothing to do for it.” Jane muttered under her breath, walking quickly away from the church. She couldn’t even be bothered by the rain that was starting to come down, soaking through her light spring jacket and ruining her hair. The moment she had dreaded for weeks had finally happened: she had been in the same room as the Bingleys. It was all anyone talked about since word had spread that they were returning to Meryton.
Poor Jane Bennet, they had said, all seeing his sudden departure from Hertford County as a slight on her. Jane thought Elizabeth might guess the truth of what had happened, but no one really had all the facts except for Jane and Bingley.
Now she put her friends and neighbors to her back as she strode purposefully towards the family car. It’s not as if you didn’t know this was coming, she chided herself. In a way, she felt she deserved the stares and whispers that swept through the church the second Charles and Caroline walked in. The last time she saw him, she’d dashed his hopes so completely; she felt that she hadn’t paid quite enough for it.
“Jane, wait!”
Jane halted at the sound of that much-beloved voice. Over the long winter, she’d forgotten how it sounded—its tone and its timbre.
“Jane,” Bingley said, closer now. She turned and faced him, her face carefully neutral.
His church suit was one she hadn’t seen before, and the dark blue coat deepened his bright eyes. His red-gold hair had gotten as wet as her own; a few locks stuck to his forehead. She had to cross her arms over her chest to keep from reaching out and smoothing them back. The smile he gave her was as brilliant as the sun.
“Hello, again.” His voice was sure, but his eyes were uncertain.
“Hello, Mr. Bingley.”
Elizabeth appeared a few steps behind him, crouching under her green umbrella. She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. Jane gave the slightest shake of her head. She would not be rescued.
“I…I hope you’re doing well.”
“As well as I can be, Mr. Bingley.” She pointed up at the heavy rain clouds.
“Jane—”
“Please let’s not make a scene,” Jane said in a rush. Bingley appeared taken aback.
“The thought never crossed my mind,” he said truthfully. “I only wanted to say…well, I plan to stay here in Hertford County. And since I’m staying, I hope that we can be friends again.”
“Friends?” Jane frowned. The thought of being friends with him was torture to her. Oh God, I must really love him!
“Jane.” He stepped closer to her. The rain started to come down in earnest then. She tried not to notice the drops that hung suspended in his long pale eyelashes. “I’m still very sore with you.”
Jane felt her color rise. “I beg your par—”
“You didn’t give me enough credit,” he said over the rain. “I can make my own choices. I don’t need you to make them for me. We will be friends again.”
With that, he gave her another sunny smile and walked away, giving Elizabeth a quick greeting before getting lost in the after-church crowd hurrying to their cars to avoid getting soaked.
“What on earth was that about?” Elizabeth asked after she hurried over, holding her umbrella up so that it covered both of them. Jane shook her head slowly, disbelieving.
“I don’t know, Lizzie, but I think I’m going to find out.”
***
Elizabeth felt her eyelids growing heavy in the warm afternoon sun. Her book, a volume of poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay, rested on her chest. The sound of someone trudging across the grass brought her back from the brink of sleep. She looked up from her blanket to see Mary looming over her, blocking out the sun.
Mary, only two years younger than Elizabeth, had the misfortune to have been labeled the Ugly Duckling of the Bennet girls. Far from ugly, Mary was taller than all of her sisters, with milky skin and the same dark brown eyes as Elizabeth and Kitty. However, like many tall girls, Mary had a distinct manner of walking that gave some
the impression of awkwardness.
Elizabeth smiled up at her sister, stretching her arms above her head. “Care to join me, darling?”
“Maybe some other time,” Mary said with a lopsided smile. “There’s someone here to see you. You’d better get back to the house before Kitty and Lydia eat him alive.”
“Him?”
Elizabeth first thought that Will Darcy was her visitor, a notion she quickly dismissed. Neither Kitty nor Lydia had any interest as Elizabeth recalled overhearing Lydia call Darcy “old hatchet face” on more than one occasion.
She stood, brushing stray blades of grass and dandelion fluff off her pants, gathered her book and her blanket, and followed Mary to the house. She was shocked to see none other than George Wickham waiting on Longbourn’s porch, surrounded by her mother and younger sisters. Even Jane, still in her crisp white nurse’s uniform, seemed to be enjoying Wickham’s company.
“Oh, Lizzie, I’ve invited your friend to stay for supper,” her mother gushed at the same time Lydia said, “Lizzie, you never told us your friend was such a dreamboat.”
“Lydia, behave!” said Jane.
Elizabeth gave her visitor a cautious smile. He was gorgeous, but that didn’t settle the uneasiness she felt.
“Hello, George. I see you remembered our address.”
Wickham ducked his head sheepishly. “We didn’t really get a chance to visit at the race,” he said apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind my not calling ahead.”
He seemed sincere to her, but she hadn’t forgotten Darcy’s warning—or Wickham’s suggestion she visit him alone. Still, she doubted sitting on the porch with her mother and sisters present would allow him many chances to get fresh if that was what he intended. She decided to put Wickham’s looks aside, and Darcy’s prejudice, and try to form her own opinion.
“Not a bit,” she said. “I’m glad you found us.”
They spent several afternoons on the porch surrounded by her mother and sisters. Wickham told them stories about the army that couldn’t quite be called improper but were just inappropriate enough to make everyone laugh. He seemed to give equal attention to all of her sisters—showing Elizabeth singular attention but nothing that would raise any eyebrows.
