The Five Graces of Longbourn

by Olivia Kane

  With Bingley eagerly decamping from London with him, Darcy would have companionship but be free from taxing social obligations. While at Rosings, his aunt required very little of him. Away from the noise and crowds and the babbling Caroline Bingley, he would have plenty of quiet to meditate and think of his next step where Miss Elizabeth Bennet was concerned.

  So constant was her presence on his mind that upon seeing her face at the Rosings ball, he believed her to be merely a figment of his imagination. But there was no imagining Jane or Mr. Bennet or the delight with which Bingley broke off their conversation to engage with them.

  Darcy stood alone in front of the Rosings chimneypiece and drew in a deep breath. He did not remember if anyone spoke to him. All he knew was that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at Rosings and some twisted turn of fate had brought him there and put her in his path. He forgot all of his well-thought-out objections to her suitability. He was, after all, Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir to Pemberley.

  He could—and would—marry whomever he liked.

  He glanced over to where Jane and Elizabeth and Bingley chatted amiably. He watched them briefly, only to see Miss Elizabeth excuse herself. His gaze followed her flower-adorned head as it bobbed among the party guests. He straightened his jacket and took a step in her direction.

  Elizabeth circled the perimeter of the room. She would have a refreshment from the table set up across the hall and then find a potted plant to hide behind. After such a cruel parting, she wanted Jane to have all the advantages of a private tête-à-tête with Bingley. She was almost at the doorway when she heard her name called.

  “Miss Bennet! Will you do me the honor of this dance?”

  She turned to see Mr. Collins approaching from her left, smiling broadly. To her right stood Mr. Darcy, his hand outstretched, his gaze set upon her.

  Amidst the din of the room and the clash of the musicians tuning their instruments, she did not know which man had called her name.

  “Miss Bennet, will you do me the honor of this dance?” Mr. Darcy asked again, much to her surprise.

  Red-faced and panting, Mr. Collins advanced toward her.

  “My fair cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins applied to her. “The honor of your first two dances, please!”

  She considered the two undesired supplicants before her. Her preference was to refuse both but she would not dare to be so uncivil. Why Mr. Darcy wanted to dance with her was a mystery; he seemed to take no pleasure in her society. Mr. Collins’ invitation, however, was transparent. He still sought to recommend himself to the family and procure one of the sisters as an easy bride.

  For her sisters’ sakes, she remained determined to limit her intimacy with Collins and made a hasty excuse. “I am sorry Mr. Collins. I am obliged to Mr. Darcy,” she smiled.

  Collins’ animated expression drooped in disappointment. He glanced briefly at the imposing Mr. Darcy who had beat him to the prize and then he shuffled away, mumbling.

  Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Darcy, who stood before her with the corners of his mouth uncharacteristically upturned. To her eye, it appeared he was forming a rare smile.

  She put her hand in his. It was, she realized, the first time they had ever touched. Oddly, she had no impulse to withdraw.

  “Good evening, Miss Bennet. It is a pleasure to see you.” He made a slight bow.

  Summoning her natural confidence that was always in good supply, she replied, “Good evening, Mr. Darcy.”

  The dance commenced and, at first, neither Elizabeth nor Darcy felt inclined to talk. But after a period of stilted silence, Elizabeth ventured to say, “I had no idea you knew Lady Catherine.”

  “She is my aunt and the sister of my dear departed mother. Likewise, I had no idea you were an acquaintance of my aunt?”

  “Only through Mr. Collins, her rector. He is the son of my father’s late cousin. He is to inherit Longbourn one day and sought to marry one of us as an olive branch. We are here because he wished to introduce us to the glory of Rosings Park and to Lady Catherine herself. On approval, so to say.”

  “Am I to wish you joy, then?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “No. He was sternly rebuffed by Lady Catherine for reaching too high. She has instructed him to find a plainer wife.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Apparently, your aunt believes that even a face as merely tolerable as mine is too distracting for a parson’s wife.”

  Mr. Darcy let the comment pass without remarking on it or apologizing. Elizabeth wondered if he even recognized his own insults once repeated back to him. Perhaps he made too many to keep count, she mused.

  Their discussion was momentarily interrupted by the demands of the dance. When they were reunited, Mr. Darcy took up the burden of continuing the conversation.

  “Have you met my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh?” he asked.

  “Miss de Bourgh is your cousin?” This startling news immediately lessened the regret she felt in accepting the dance.

  ‘She is indeed, by virtue of being my aunt’s daughter.”

  “Then it is I who must wish you joy, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said in a teasing manner. “For we were told only last night of your engagement to her.”

  Mr. Darcy was noticeably unsettled at the revelation of his secret engagement. For herself, she could not help but smile at his obvious embarrassment. “What surprise this news will be greeted with by my friends in Meryton. Hidden engagements, once revealed, are such food for gossip.”

  “It is only a peculiar engagement of my aunt’s making. It lacks my intent,” he said mechanically.

  “So you do not plan to marry your cousin?”

  “I respect my aunt’s memories of my mother and the hopes they shared for their children’s futures. Two good women, one gone too soon.” The tenderness of his tone touched Elizabeth’s heart momentarily and, for the first time in their acquaintance, she felt Mr. Darcy’s cold guard let down.

  But it was only a momentary lapse.

  “I am truly sorry for your loss. Please, forgive my impertinence, but are you saying you do not intend to marry your cousin? Lady Catherine is under the opposite impression as she made the announcement to us all at the dinner table just last night,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “My aunt has many hopes and dreams for her daughter. It is not my job to keep track of them.” Then changing the subject he said, “Bingley and your sister seem eagerly reacquainted. Your sister must be delighted.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth nodded. “Against all your efforts, it would seem.”

  “What can you mean?” His tone was stern but his eyes twinkled.

  “Only that I wondered why you all quit Netherfield so abruptly without a word of goodbye?”

  “It is not my way to announce my intentions to casual acquaintances, nor do I expect others to do the same for me,” he said, unapologetic.

  “Mr. Darcy. Can you deny studying Jane intently on your last call to Longbourn? Your interest in her did not go unnoticed.”

  “I do not deny it. I had reason to suspect her affection to be divided. My loyalty has always been to my friend. We have been together since university. I know him well.”

  The dance ended but Elizabeth was unwilling to part without speaking in Jane’s defense.

  “It was unfortunate that you came to call on a melancholy day in our household; had you the pleasure of living with five sisters of your own you would understand my meaning completely. Her downcast mood that day was nothing to do with Mr. Bingley and everything to do with the intense pressure laid upon her by my mother in regard to the entailment of our family home and the unwelcome attention from Mr. Collins. You incorrectly read some meaning into Jane’s low countenance that day. Am I wrong to guess that her mood contributed to the removal of Bingley from Hertfordshire?”

  “If you knew Bingley the way I do, you would understand his natural humility. Your sister, however, is a mystery to me. Word of another suitor was rampant in the village. My urge to protect him from heartbreak was honest enough. I
will not apologize for protecting those in my circle,” he said.

  “And if you knew my sister Jane you would understand that there could not be a sweeter, less manipulative soul on this earth. I have seen the company you keep in your circle, Mr. Darcy. The Bingley sisters with their cruel comments and cutting remarks have spoiled you to think the worst of my sex. Your world has shrunk to the worst of society but you would do well not to impute their bad qualities on my Jane.”

  Mr. Darcy looked momentarily stricken by Elizabeth’s pointed defense of Jane’s placid nature but chose only to respond to the accusation of abruptly leaving the county.

  “Again, our plans were of a tenuous nature. And there was another suitor. Of that I am correct, per your own admission,” he countered.

  “But to not indicate at all the possibility of your departure and then to relay the information by messenger instead?” she continued.

  “I find goodbyes by letter very efficient. I prefer them.”

  “I find them infinitely colder.”

  “Goodbyes tend toward the dramatic. I find them ridiculous when one typically meets again in two months time and takes up as if no absence even occurred.”

  “Did you depart from London for Rosings without saying a word to the ton? Or is it only us mediocre country folk in Hertfordshire to whom your pride won’t have you issue a proper goodbye?”

  “Your family’s lesser connections do not alter my preference for a written goodbye,” he said stiffly.

  “Thank you for your frankness regarding our inferior consequence. Let me assure you that it never slips my mind so you are under no obligation to remind me,” she angrily shot back.

  “No offense intended. I am not in the habit of elevating families beyond their natural station or insulting your intelligence, which is your best quality. Certainly, your family’s low connections are well known to you; what purpose is served in pretending otherwise?”

  “Then we are in rare accord as I detest pretense too,” she said.

  “Connections are merely an artifice that true affection is able to rise above,” he said softly.

  For a split second, she had no response and quickly looked away. After establishing his superiority he was now attempting to draw her in and that she would not do. Unsettled, she noticed Jane and her father across the room and sought to rejoin them.

  Following her gaze, Darcy said, “Please, I have no intention to hold you captive here” and he motioned toward her family. “Do enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Bennet.”

  She nodded and silently passed him by, blending into the company. But once successfully disengaged from her adversary, she was consumed with righteous annoyance.

  What an infuriating conversationalist he was!

  Chapter 11

  Elizabeth’s annoyance was so all-consuming that she forgot that Mr. Collins was hovering nearby. Within a minute of rejoining her family, Mr. Collins hopped to her side and repeated his request for two dances. Elizabeth was so agitated that she lost her natural quick presence of mind and accepted, deciding it was more expedient to endure the dances than to spend the remainder of the evening fighting Collins off.

  And endure the dances she did, for Mr. Collins’ breath smelled of Madeira and he talked nonstop of pompous nothings for the duration of the set. His gaze darted about the dance floor in blissful admiration of the grandeur of the ornate drawing room, his mouth a babbling brook of constant praise of Rosings.

  Weren’t the floral arrangements exquisite?

  Had she ever heard such sublime musicians?

  Was there a better dance floor than the parquet beneath her feet?

  Elizabeth was mortified for the entirety of the dance.

  When the music ended, Elizabeth once again sought the solace of her father and Jane. However, much to her dismay, Mr. Darcy persisted in his attention to her and joined them, asking to be introduced to Mr. Bennet and then proceeding to make polite inquiries of her father.

  “I trust your journey was comfortable?” Darcy asked.

  Mr. Bennet assured him that it was.

  “And you are staying at the Crane Inn?”

  “Yes. Lovely place,” Mr. Bennet said.

  “The proprietor has an excellent storehouse of port. As he and I are long-acquainted, may I be so bold as to extend an invitation for you and your daughters to be my guest tomorrow for luncheon in the Crane Inn dining room where we can sample his varieties?”

  Mr. Bennet was taken aback at the unexpected generosity. Expecting the malevolent Mr. Darcy from the tales of the carriage ride, he was surprised by his genial demeanor and good manners.

  “Thank you, very much. I would enjoy that,” Mr. Bennet agreed.

  “And afterward, I would love to show you all some of the finer walking paths here on the grounds. I believe Miss Bennet has professed an interest in country walks.”

  “Splendid,” Mr. Bennet agreed. While Mr. Darcy persisted in standing with them, Elizabeth smoothed her skirt with renewed focus and then settled her gaze on the very ill-looking Miss Anne de Bourgh who was sitting placidly on a straight-backed chair staring blankly into the room.

  “What a delightful invitation,” Elizabeth lied. “Will Miss de Bourgh be joining us?” she added tartly.

  “No,” Mr. Darcy quickly replied.

  After the serving of a luxurious supper, the evening came to an end, but Darcy’s gentleman-like presence had easily won over Mr. Bennet. He spent the short carriage ride home marveling at the generosity of the man and confused as to whether or not Elizabeth had met a different Mr. Darcy in Meryton. Interspersed were his suspicions that a poorer man such as Officer Wickham might be holding a grudge.

  “A man like Mr. Darcy, of infinitely higher consequence, might be the recipient of exaggerated grievances against him. Men of consequence are sometimes held to higher standards by those who envy their pocketbook and the ease of life it affords.”

  “I do not agree, Pappa. In fact, tonight I learned that Mr. Darcy’s sins are worse than I had previously thought. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the person to whom Miss Anne de Bourgh is engaged is none other than Mr. Darcy himself,” Elizabeth announced.

  Jane gasped. “No! You must have heard wrong. Mr. Darcy is Miss de Bourgh’s intended?”

  “I did not hear wrong. I was given this information by Mr. Darcy himself during the dance. That explains his presence here.”

  “A secret engagement? How that will get the tongues wagging,” Mr. Bennet laughed. “Then that secures it. I dare say he is quite the wicked one.”

  “So you see, I am right about him. It is misleading for him to present himself as unattached when he clearly is spoken for,” Elizabeth fumed. “I wonder if Miss de Bourgh understands how he demeans her by pretending their engagement does not exist? I have half a mind to tell her, although he is certainly not worth my effort.”

  “How very fascinating,” Jane murmured. “I wonder if Mr. Bingley knows?”

  “He must but be sworn to secrecy,” Elizabeth guessed. “So there you have it, Pappa. This information is not sour musings from Officer Wickham, either.” She nodded at him, willing her father to agree. Mr. Bennet, however, just chuckled.

  “I cannot give you the satisfaction of agreeing with you, dear Lizzie. In my mind, Mr. Darcy has the benefit of the doubt until he personally proves me wrong.”

  Determined to entertain nothing but negative thoughts about Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth declared that she was no longer able to discuss him in her father’s company. Her humor was so ill that even a good night’s sleep could not tame it. In the morning, she prepared herself for a very sorry luncheon.

  “Pappa, why did you not find an excuse? Lunching with Mr. Darcy will be torturous,” she fretted as the dreaded hour approached. She peered out the window of the Crane Inn, dreading the arrival of his carriage.

  “Would you rather I call Mr. Collins instead?” Mr. Bennet teased.

  “Do not joke so. It will take great forbearance for me not to
taunt Darcy mercilessly at the table. I am warning you,” she grumbled. The dour luncheon that she pictured, with Mr. Darcy sitting glumly at the table and the Bennet family mutely staring at their forks, was upon them.

  But her fears were only imaginary.

  Darcy’s carriage came into view promptly and he alighted quickly from the carriage, followed by Bingley. The men gallantly entered the inn bearing bouquets for each lady. The proprietor whisked them into a private room with tall windows that overlooked a tidy garden of topiaries and ivy-covered trellises. A table was set and wine poured as freely as the conversation.

  In the relaxed setting, the easy rapport between the three men was apparent and their respect and enjoyment of each other evident. The topics easily turned from carriages to hunting to books. Bingley was solicitous to Jane throughout the entirety of the meal and she returned his kindness wholeheartedly.

  Of the party, only Elizabeth held back. Her dislike for Mr. Darcy was not so easily vanquished by a bunch of cuttings from the greenhouse or an expensive lunch no matter how tender the beef. Nevertheless, despite her misgivings, she could not help but notice that Darcy was a well-schooled man. What he said about being uncomfortable around strangers must be true, as his manner was markedly different that day. His manner was unassuming and polite.

  Relaxed at the table, she studied him. His deep blue coat was expensive wool, his shirt she guessed to be of the finest Irish linen and the fit of his clothes was expert; most likely cut at Weston’s on Bond Street. This was a man with the purse to be impeccably tailored.

  After their meal was consumed, the inn’s signature port, which Mr. Darcy had praised, was served and the men sipped it slowly, savoring the flavors.

  “We will need the afternoon walk after this,” Bingley pronounced. Taking that as a cue, Mr. Darcy rose from the table.

  “Shall we?”

  They made their way out of the inn and squeezed into the carriage for the quick trip to the outer edges of Lady Catherine’s property where they then disembarked. Mr. Darcy was a natural guide as he led them through the shrubbery of Rosings’ extensive grounds. As Jane and Bingley fell back, it was left to Elizabeth, her father, and Darcy to walk ahead.