by Olivia Kane
The Bennet girls assumed their favorite seats and feigned activity until the drawing room door opened and Hill announced the callers.
The sight of Jane immediately vanquished Bingley’s glum spirits. He greeted everyone amiably and inquired with enthusiasm after each girl’s health. Darcy, however, remained unchanged. His greetings were issued with a dour expression and he sat stiffly in the corner of the sofa. He projected his gaze out onto the Longbourn lawn and sat motionless, exuding an air of superiority.
Bingley settled in across from Jane and proceeded to entertain them all by relaying a long, winding story about a misunderstanding he had with his cook, which was settled pleasantly in the end. He then expressed genuine interest in the purse Kitty was netting, he managed to remain engaged while Mary struggled for perfection playing the same minuet on the pianoforte three times in a row, and he gallantly maintained a straight face while Kitty and Lydia exposed their lack of musical talent by engaging in a duet.
Jane heroically attempted to engage in the visit as best she could yet the specter of Mr. Collins hung over her and was evident in her distracted countenance. Her every smile was directed toward Mr. Bingley, but when he looked away she became visibly downcast. Darcy, anxious for the well-being of his friend, immediately noticed the change in her.
For all of Mr. Bingley’s engagement with the party, Mr. Darcy remained equally detached. To Elizabeth’s eye, his air remained one of removed disinterest and his paltry effort at conversation implied he thought himself above his company. He appeared only interested in observing Jane and Bingley’s interaction. This nettled Elizabeth and she yearned to annoy him.
When an opening in the conversation presented itself, she turned to him and said, “Mr. Darcy, we have been the beneficiary of several very clement days this week. Have you taken advantage of the good weather to explore any of the captivating walking paths in Hertfordshire? I rely on walking when confinement weighs me down. Surely it must also appeal to you in light of the dull society in our country neighborhood?”
It was the second time in as many days that the subject of walking in Hertfordshire was broached with him and his curiosity as to the intent of questioning was raised. He fixed his gaze on the captivating Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was observing him with a very expressive smile.
“Yes. I took the walk to Oakham Mount two days ago. I quite enjoyed the exertion.”
Not satisfied with his reply, Elizabeth said, “Ah, I am partial to that view myself. But that is a very old and well-worn path and my inquiry was directed at new pathways. The kind described in the Grey’s Guide to Hertfordshire, a copy of which I believe you own?”
Darcy visibly furrowed his brows. Sensing he was being baited in some manner, he nevertheless admitted to owning the book. “I did purchase the guide recently,” he replied.
Amused, she continued. “I would have the updated guide myself, if only you had not purchased the copy being held for me at the mercantile. But do not blame yourself; it was not your mistake, and Mr. Buxton has ordered me another. I only hope I do not miss too many of these last nice days before the weather turns while I await its arrival.”
Mr. Darcy, slightly disarmed by the revelation, remained silent for a moment before he spoke.
“My apologies, Miss Bennet. If I purchased your book it was not my intent to deprive you of its immediate pleasures. I apologize for the inconvenience and for any exercise lost as a result. It will be returned to you immediately.”
Elizabeth, meaning only to tease the man, playfully waved him off.
“No such gesture is necessary, Mr. Darcy, as I only expressed a passing fear of missing out on a nice day. After all, it may rain every day for the next three and then the paths would be too muddy to venture out on. Or, even were the paths to remain dry, I may have other obligations that prevent me from walking. Please, do not deprive yourself of the guide on my account. It is yours, bought and paid for,” she answered him laughingly.
“Nevertheless, by bringing the subject to my attention I am compelled to correct the mistake. Your insistence that you do not require the guide does little to convince me not to rectify the error. Any such argument with me would be wasted.”
“Very well, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth relented.
“And may I add, as an aside, not to rely on Grey’s too greatly. I find he is apt to make the occasional error in his routing,” he said, somewhat grimly. “I am disappointed with his work on the Derbyshire volume.”
“My, my, Mr. Darcy! So Mr. Grey’s good work is not to your liking? You must be the rare holdout as he is universally lauded, or so I believe,” she teased.
“I did not say I disliked Grey’s work. I only commented that it is imperfect. It is my opinion and I stand by it.”
She perceived the uselessness of pursuing the subject any further. Her point was made; she would continue to dislike him for all the same reasons whether he returned her book or not. “You will do as you see fit, although I only bring it up for a laugh, not to censure you. It is the kind of nonsense I delight in.”
Mr. Darcy resumed looking out the window, much to Elizabeth’s relief.
The conversation continued for another quarter of an hour, mainly devoted to the comings and goings of the regiment and talk of the latest assembly. Elizabeth observed Mr. Darcy’s gaze fixed upon her at several points; he seemed to have abandoned his study of Jane in favor of her.
Elizabeth expected he was compiling a mental list of all her deficits. It amazed her that he put himself through the torture of enduring their company; he must owe Bingley an enormous debt and his presence that afternoon a form of payback.
The pair soon quit the Bennet residence and as Mr. Darcy advised, no mention was made of their impending trip to London. The afternoon convinced Mr. Darcy that Jane and her family, while charming in their country ways, should be no more than a passing fancy to Bingley. Miss Jane Bennet was lovely but distracted. There was more than a distinct possibility that her affection had been divided by this Mr. Cullins or Mr. Cowling or whatever he was called.
Bingley’s immediate removal from the confined society of the Hertfordshire neighborhood was in his best interests, Darcy decided. If Miss Jane Bennet’s heart were true then an absence of three or even four months would make no difference. For Bingley, the same reasoning would also apply. Darcy was convinced that a family of similar charm possessing higher connections could be readily found in London and Bingley’s affection safely redirected.
As for Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he would return her copy of the Grey’s guide immediately. It was unfortunate that the merchant’s error reflected badly on him. He had seen the guide in a stack of goods on the counter at the mercantile and bought it to add to his collection. He had almost all of the author’s guides in his library at Pemberley, save for a few missing counties, Hertfordshire being one of them. However, for now, he was quite finished with Hertfordshire and looking forward to the distractions and society of London. Not that the ton appealed to him but there were many bookshops to be visited, plays and concerts to attend, and pleasant parks to wind one’s way through. By the time they were in London for a month, their neighbors in Hertfordshire would be long out of their minds and all dangers subverted.
That he included Miss Elizabeth Bennet in that pool of dangers he was well aware. She occupied his mind entirely too much. While observing her today, he decided the fineness of her eyes was found in both their shape and color.
Of course, her eyes were constantly narrowed at him in disdain. She had taken an almost immediate dislike to him and he had no idea why. He wondered, briefly, what it would be like to be on the receiving end of adoration in those same eyes.
His heart skipped a beat at the thought.
Try as she did to be aloof and impertinent, there was something about her that was unlike her contemporaries and he was dangerously drawn to her.
The escape to London, therefore, would be for his own benefit as well.
Chapter 7
&n
bsp; Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst thought the arrival of Mr. Cullen a great diversion and a timely antidote to the pervasive boredom of Hertfordshire. As news of the mysterious Mr. Cullen must be had, the ladies made plans to return to Meryton that afternoon while the men called at Longbourn. They would retrace their steps, not in pursuit of lace or perfume but of facts.
Mr. Cullen’s provenance was unknown and they were tired of conjecture. Was he a landowner? Who were his family? What was his profession?
“What a gift this is!” Caroline decreed. “I am exceedingly anxious to know more about this knight in armor that has arrived to sweep off one of the five.”
“Particularly because it seems Mr. Cullen will be saving our Charles from a ruinous match with Miss Jane Bennet!” Mrs. Hurst said between giggles.
“Word is that he stayed at the Meryton Arms while here. Let us stop in their tearoom and see what gossip can be had.”
But their plan was derailed when, after lunch, Mrs. Hurst was felled by a bout of indigestion brought on by one too many glasses of elderberry wine. She took to her bed, forcing Miss Bingley to find other amusement with which to fill the afternoon hours. Being already married, Mrs. Hurst lacked the competitive instinct that Caroline Bingley harbored toward the Bennet sisters and investigating their suitor lost its luster. She opted instead for the comfort of an afternoon nap in her dark bedroom wearing only her shift.
With no company except Mr. Hurst at her disposal, Caroline Bingley resorted to alleviating her boredom by writing letters to her London friends announcing her imminent arrival. She promised to regale them with tales of the ridiculous and tedious society she endured in the wilds of Hertfordshire. After completing one such missive, she listlessly sealed it and set it aside.
She then took a fresh sheet of paper and commenced her favorite pastime—dreamily writing out “Mrs. Caroline Darcy, Pemberley House” and “Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Derbyshire” and “Mr. Darcy and I will be honored to attend,” in flowing script as she filled the entire length of the page.
Then, to erase all evidence of her embarrassing habit, she ripped the paper into minuscule shreds, swiped them all neatly into the palm of her hand, and carefully carried the bits to the hearth where she gently tossed them into the fire and watched the flames lick and burn.
She stood silently at the drawing room window and stared relentlessly at the empty drive and lawn. Unlike Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she found no pleasure in wandering aimlessly about the grubby countryside, dragging her hem through all manner of filth and dead autumn leaves. Seen once, the local sky, paths, and shrubbery could offer her no further stimulation.
She sighed in discontent and shifted her feet, wishing the men would appear on the drive, their call to Longbourn in vain, the ladies not at home. She was uneasy with the amount of attention paid to the Bennet girls, particularly Darcy’s notice of that Miss Elizabeth. Although he would protest, she had never before seen his attention so focused on one young woman. He seemed almost eager to accompany Charles to Longbourn that afternoon. Recently, she had begun to regret her brother’s decision to lease Netherfield. If only Charles had passed on it then she would never have encountered the mediocrity that was the Bennet family. Tiring of her persistent, irritable thoughts, she turned from the window seeking a distraction.
What would Darcy be doing with an afternoon to himself?
She circled the drawing room. The book he was reading the previous night sat on the end table where he had left it. She sat herself down in the corner of the settee and placed the heavy book in her lap—an anthology of Greek mythology. She flipped the pages … so many complicated names and such small, densely packed type! There were some ink sketches set into the middle of the tome. She glanced at them quickly but they were quite old-fashioned and not pretty at all. She shut the book and returned it to its original place.
How deadly dull!
She rested her chin on her hand and stared out the window. Everything she did was done with the goal of captivating Mr. Darcy. She was determined to one day win his affection, either by wearing him down or swooping in and compromising him in a moment of dejection. It required a certain type of poise to wait him out.
The hours passed and, eventually, the two men and their steeds trotted up the drive. Moving swiftly, she lifted Darcy’s book on mythology, opened it to a random page, and positioned herself primly, pretending to be engrossed. Several laudatory statements pertaining to the edifying nature of the myths were readied in her head.
Alas, her preparations were wasted when Mr. Darcy entered Netherfield and strode straight to his rooms without a sideward glance. She waited for Charles to enter the room but ten minutes passed and she remained alone. Suddenly, out the window, she heard a shout and the sound of hooves and saw the flash of a shiny black coat as her brother galloped away alone to explore the park, as was his habit in the afternoon. Defeated, she stood up, exited the drawing room and slunk up the staircase to her chamber, quietly shutting the door behind her.
However, an hour or so later, Caroline looked down from her bedroom window and happened to notice Darcy briskly walking the avenue. Quickly, she sped from her room and descended the stairs two at a time. Grabbing her cloak and her bonnet, she hurried out the side door of Netherfield and hastened down a separate garden path she knew would cross his further out.
Her timing was perfect. As the two paths came into view of each other, she assumed the attitude of a fine lady caught taking a leisurely stroll. Her surprise at encountering him was as natural as could be.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy! I did not know you were about the grounds.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Bingley.” He tipped his hat as they fell into step together. Miss Bingley’s interest in walking was confined only to those times she could accost him alone on the path, he noted.
“Mr. Darcy, I trust your visit to Longbourn did not dissuade you from returning to London tomorrow?” Caroline began.
“My plans have not changed.”
“And were you able to bring back any news of the mysterious Mr. Cullen?”
“No direct information, other than the demeanor of Miss Jane Bennet appeared significantly changed.”
“Changed?” Caroline asked, unable to hide her intense curiosity.
“Yes, in my opinion, measurably changed.”
“How so, may I ask? It is my brother’s future, after all, and I worry so about him.”
“Simply that it took her great effort to put on a smile for your brother. As soon as he looked away she was indifferent to his presence. He did not notice her lack of warmth but, thankfully, I did.”
Caroline Bingley was delighted but contained her true feelings behind a mask of concerned disgust at Jane’s dual nature. In an attempt to appear thoughtful, she allowed them to advance a number of steps in quiet reflection before prodding, “So you believe the arrival of this Mr. Cullen is behind her change of demeanor?”
“It seems likely. I must look out for the welfare of Bingley. It may be that this Mr. Cullen is also very wealthy and Jane’s affection was easily turned.”
“I’ve always thought Miss Jane Bennet almost too studied in her sweetness for someone with such low connections and the hardship incumbent in possessing only a small dowry. Count on it, she has been schooled to capture a wealthy suitor by her mother, whom we all know has shown herself to have no shame. I imagine their father must be equally as bad in allowing it. And her sister with the fine eyes, I trust you will forget her just as easily?”
“I do not usually forget acquaintances, if that is your question.”
Ignoring his deflection, she babbled on. “There are inherent dangers for an eligible man such as my brother in settling in the country; I can now see that. The society is so closed that new arrivals are immediately claimed as the property of one such family or another. There is safety in London. With so many people of quality coming and going the company is always changing.”
Mr. Darcy remained silent. He had no tho
ughts on the matter that he wished to share with Miss Bingley, whose company he never sought of his own accord.
Unable to draw Darcy into any more conversation, Miss Bingley suffered to walk in silence until Darcy announced he had much work to oversee if they were to return to London the next day. She pretended to have just as much work ahead of her, and so they continued up the path and into the house, separating immediately upon entering the hall.
* * *
The next day, a package was delivered mid-afternoon to Longbourn. Elizabeth was not surprised when Hill handed it to her, announcing that it was from Netherfield Park. By its shape and weight, Elizabeth knew it to be her Grey’s guide, returned to her as promised by Mr. Darcy.
The package was neatly wrapped and tied tightly with twine. She placed it on the window ledge and let it sit unopened.
“What is in the package?” Mary inquired.
“I believe Mr. Darcy has returned my Grey’s guide.”
“Don’t you want to open it?” Lydia asked. “It’s such a rare event to get a package and so much fun!”
“No,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “The fun of a package is in its surprise. As I already know the contents and I fear it includes a communication from Mr. Darcy, its arrival does not qualify as amusement in my book. I am intent on having a very pleasant day today, free from his interference. He is such a gloomy man. Come, girls, do try and hurry. I want to walk for at least an hour or so before tea,” she said, urging her sisters out the door. The package was forgotten.
But later that evening as they sat before the drawing room fire talking pleasantly, Elizabeth relented and opened the package. As predicted, her Grey’s guide and a folded note were revealed. Reluctantly, she unfolded the note and lifted it to eye level.
“Read it out loud, Lizzie,” Mrs. Bennet urged her. “I want to hear how the grand Mr. Darcy expresses himself.”
“Please do!” Lydia echoed.
Laughing, Elizabeth agreed.
