by Jann Rowland
“It is not, perhaps a commonly discussed subject at a wedding breakfast, though at the wedding itself it is, of course, expected. I suppose he would not ask it of Mary.”
“Mary’s name was mentioned,” said Elizabeth. “But only once he had solicited my own participation.”
Mr. Bennet grunted, and Elizabeth felt obliged to say: “He has never been insistent, Papa. I am quite able to speak with him with tolerable ease. If he wishes for something more between us, he has never attempted to impose upon me.”
The searching look Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth warmed her. “Very well. He is a good man, Mr. Collins, though not without limitations. If you truly wished for his addresses, you know I would not stand in your way.”
“I know, Papa. I do not wish for them, and I think Mr. Collins knows that.”
“Then there is nothing more to say. Should he become more insistent, please speak to me. Between us, I am certain we may handle his disappointment in a manner which is least damaging to his confidence. I would not have it destroyed after all the trouble and effort that went into its creation.”
“Nor would I,” replied Elizabeth.
The bride and groom soon entered the chapel, and the service began. Of the service, there is not much to say, other than that it proceeded in a manner much like many others had, from time immemorial. The significance to the Bennet and Bingley families was greater, of course, but of much more importance to both parties than the joining of their two families in tighter bonds, was that the two principals were so perfectly suited and deeply in love.
At the wedding breakfast, Elizabeth allowed Mr. Collins his time with her, to his very great delight, and consigned him to her sister’s insights when she felt she had given him enough of it. The breakfast was a stupendous success for Mrs. Bingley, a fact which Elizabeth did not stint to ensure her hostess was aware.
When the time came to farewell the happy couple, they gathered on the drive and watched them depart, tears of happiness mingled with shouts of congratulations. The first hurdle had been surpassed. Now Elizabeth only had Mr. Darcy’s coming over which to concern herself.
Chapter VI
Nestled among the hills of Hertfordshire, Netherfield Park rose in the distance. Still unsure as he was of the wisdom of coming here at all, Darcy gazed at it, taking in the sight with jaundiced eyes which were made all the more uncompromising due to his mood.
It was a handsome scene, he supposed, though the building itself was not especially pleasing to the eye. The manor house was squat and severe, its rectangular shape unremarkable, the reddish brick of its construction leaving much to be desired. No, it was not the house which drew his eye, but the place in which it was situated, which consisted of waving fields filled with the life which provided its prosperity, strands of alder and ash, and the glory of the sun set in a blue sky as if to welcome him. It was not Pemberley—nothing could be equal to Pemberley in Darcy’s eyes—but the gently undulating terrain of Hertfordshire was appealing for different reasons, ones which Darcy could appreciate.
The crunch of the gravel beneath the wheels of the carriage brought figures to the door of the manor house, and Darcy saw his friend, accompanied by his parents, emerge to greet him. Bingley, true to form, was almost bouncing on his heels in his anticipation, prompting an amused shake of Darcy’s head. His parents, though their countenances were beaming, were much more sedate.
“Darcy!” exclaimed Bingley as he descended from the carriage. “How excellent it is to see you again, man! Welcome to Netherfield!”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Darcy, extending his hand, which Bingley grasped and pumped with much enthusiasm. He turned and greeted Bingley’s parents, accepting their welcome and renewing his brief acquaintance. Then he was shown to his room in deference to his need to refresh himself before returning to the sitting-room to wait upon his hosts.
Upon joining them, Darcy found annoyance welling up within him, for it is perhaps a perversity that when one particularly wishes to speak of a certain subject, to hear certain information, nothing of that sort is brought up in conversation. When he descended the stairs, Darcy was not even aware himself of what he wished to speak. But the longer the conversation continued, the more his mood worsened, though he thought his efforts at hiding his pique were creditable.
First, Mrs. Bingley seemed to feel the need to wax long in her raptures concerning her younger daughter’s recent wedding. It was not unusual for a mother to be proud of such an event, but it was not something Darcy could find especially interesting.
“It was such a beautiful ceremony,” said Mrs. Bingley with a sigh after she had spoken on the subject for some minutes. “A mother is, of course, more than a little biased in such matters. But I confess, I care not if others think me entirely conceited when I consider how beautiful a bride my Caroline was.”
“I am certain anyone who witnessed it could think no such thing,” said the elder Mr. Bingley. “And Thomas Bennet suits her so well in every respect.”
His interest suddenly pricked by the mention of the name Bennet, Darcy finally replied, saying: “Might I assume they have departed for their wedding tour?”
That proved to be a mistake. “Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Bingley. “Mr. Bennet has let a house in Ramsgate for their honeymoon. Anything which can be done for my Caroline’s comfort and enjoyment must be done in an instant! He is a good man, and I am particularly glad that he—and his family—are now our family.”
This statement led to another lengthy discourse of Mrs. Bingley’s expectations of her daughter’s future felicity, the virtues of the Bennet family, and her speculations concerning how her daughter would enjoy her time in Ramsgate. She even hinted, in a manner which might have been gauche if she were only a little more explicit, how she anticipated the arrival of grandchildren before long. In short, she spoke of many things, but of the one subject of which Darcy wished to hear, she remained silent.
“I have not yet made Mr. Bennet’s acquaintance,” said Darcy during a lull in Mrs. Bingley’s discourse.
“Oh, yes,” said Bingley, grinning at Darcy. “Bennet mentioned something of that himself. If you can be convinced to stay long enough, you shall make his acquaintance.” Bingley paused and fixed Darcy with a curious look. “You do mean to stay some weeks, do you not?”
“My plans are not yet fixed,” said Darcy. “But there is nothing limiting my time here at the moment.”
“That is wonderful news!” said Mrs. Bingley. “With Caroline now married and Louisa gone these past three years, now Charles is my only child at home.” Mrs. Bingley turned a fond gaze on her only son. “At least he shall not leave me. And I have the hope that he too will soon bring home a bride.”
Bingley appeared a little embarrassed at his mother’s statement, but she did not notice. Instead, she launched into a long commentary on the charms of one Jane Bennet, the girl she thought she would soon obtain for a daughter. Again, Darcy listened with as much polite patience as he could muster. The simple fact of the matter was that had Mrs. Bingley spoken of another Bennet sister, she would have found Darcy much more interested. Though he had known the woman was a little flighty, Darcy could not remember her being this voluble. It must be the excitement of having a daughter married which had brought this change over her.
As he was close to despair of hearing what he wished, a strange change came over Mrs. Bingley. For while she was speaking, she suddenly paused, and her eyes found Darcy. Then, after a few moments, she began to speak yet again. This time, however, the subject was a little more palatable to Darcy.
“Of course, you have heard me speak of the Bennets and my pleasure at gaining them for a family. Why, the girls are so close to my Caroline, with her marriage to Thomas, I quite consider them all my daughters, especially with the passing of their dear mother.”
“I was not aware of their loss,” said Darcy, his thoughts returning to Mrs. Bennet. While he had not known the woman to any great extent,
what he did remember suggested she had been similar to Mrs. Bingley. “When I meet the Bennets, I shall be certain to offer my condolences.”
“It is a sad story, indeed,” replied Mrs. Bingley. “It was sudden, you understand, which must have made it doubly hard for them. The girls, in particular, miss their mother keenly, and I long for my dear friend. Mrs. Bennet had been my friend since Mr. Bingley and I moved to the neighborhood, you understand, which was not long after she married Mr. Bennet. As our children are of age with each other, we have been close for a very long time.”
“Yes, I understand.” Darcy paused, thinking to prolong the discussion of the Bennets. “There are three girls, as I understand?”
“There are. Jane is the eldest, now two and twenty years of age.” Mrs. Bingley turned a smile on her son, to which Bingley responded with a slightly silly grin of his own. “Had it not been for Mrs. Bennet’s untimely passing, I am sure my Caroline would have been married to Longbourn’s heir last year already, and Charles might have secured the hand of Miss Bennet by now.”
It took all of Darcy’s willpower not to gnash his teeth in frustration. The woman seemed determined to avoid speaking of the one of whom Darcy most wished to hear! Then she returned her attention to him, and the conversation took a turn for the better, in Darcy’s opinion.
“After Jane, Elizabeth is the next eldest, and Mary, the youngest. They are both good girls though Mary is only now out in society.”
“Miss Elizabeth had only just come out when I visited last,” observed Darcy.
“She was! In fact, I seem to remember something of you dancing with her at the assembly before you left us.”
Mention of the assembly brought to mind the other event which had happened there, and Darcy felt suddenly confused. The situation with Miss Elizabeth and his concern with how she might have got on after his departure was the reason why he had taken so long to accept Bingley’s invitation. It was the reason he had refused at least two others. Why was he so eager to hear of her now?
“They are good girls,” continued Mrs. Bingley, unaware of his thoughts. “Though my friend always lauded the beauty of her eldest daughter, I never saw it that way.”
“Surely you must confess that Miss Bennet is the most beautiful lady in the neighborhood!” protested Bingley.
“Yes, your opinion on the matter is quite well known,” interjected his father with a laugh.
“I do not dispute she is a very handsome lady,” said Mrs. Bingley, patting her son’s hand with an absence of mind. “But in my eyes, Elizabeth is her equal, though her beauty is of a different kind, to be sure. And Mary will make some fortunate young man an excellent wife and is not devoid of her own share of appeal.”
Darcy felt Bingley’s eyes darting to him. But he only nodded at his mother and said: “There is no disagreement to be had. All the Bennet sisters are quite handsome in their respective ways, though I will own a preference for Miss Bennet’s gentle manners and calm demeanor.”
“I know you do, Charles, and you could not choose any better.” Mrs. Bingley smiled at him and turned back to Darcy. “But I am convinced there are others who will prefer Elizabeth’s liveliness and darker features. The two eldest are truly akin to the sun and the moon, and while Mary is a mixture of them, she is no less handsome because of it.”
“It seems to me,” said Mr. Bingley with amusement, “that you praise the Bennet sisters to the heavens, but your words concerning your own daughters have been more concerning your happiness for their situations.”
“Well, Caroline at least.” Mrs. Bingley’s lip curled with disdain. “I do not think much of Hurst.”
“We have also produced handsome daughters,” said Mr. Bingley.
“Of course!” exclaimed Mrs. Bingley. “But as I do not have to concern myself for their futures and the Bennet sisters do not have a mother to look after their interests, I am determined to be of whatever assistance I might.”
“And an excellent advocate they shall have in you, my dear,” said Mr. Bingley.
“The Hursts left after the wedding?” asked Darcy from politeness rather than any interest.
“They traveled to London after the wedding,” replied Bingley. “But we expect them back soon, perhaps within the week.”
Though from what Darcy had heard, he thought he would be quite happy to refrain from making Hurst’s acquaintance, he accepted Bingley’s information, saying he hoped they would enjoy the return of their family. His words were accepted, Darcy thought, with grace, but little enthusiasm, at least for the return of the husband.
“Regardless,” said Mrs. Bingley, turning the conversation back to where Darcy wished it to go, “Miss Elizabeth is a handsome young woman, one who would grace the hand of any man who might offer for her. She is also known to be quite intelligent, so much so that many of the men of the area are almost intimidated by her ability to speak circles around them. If any man chooses to espouse an interest in her, he had best be aware of this, for she is not one to stay silent.”
Bingley appeared uncomfortable throughout his mother’s speech, but at the end he laughed and said: “That is the truth! Sometimes when I am speaking with her, I cannot make any sense of what she says.”
“It is incumbent upon us all to ensure those to whom we speak understand what we are saying,” commented Darcy.
“Oh, Charles!” said Mrs. Bingley. The matron glanced at Darcy and then back at her son, her tone seeming to suggest she was vexed with him for meddling in her matchmaking. “Lizzy is not unkind. She knows exactly what she wishes to say, and she is not shy about saying it, but I have never known her to speak in a fashion deliberately designed to be difficult to understand.”
“I never said she did,” replied Bingley, apparently unmoved by his mother’s reproof.
“Be that as it may,” interjected Mr. Bingley with a pointed look at both, “I believe we are beginning to bore Mr. Darcy with our constant comments concerning our friends.”
“Not at all,” replied Darcy.
“Let me say, Mr. Darcy,” continued Mr. Bingley, “that I highly appreciate your friendship with my son. I am well aware that he makes friends easily,” Mr. Bingley paused and smiled at Bingley, who reddened a little, “but it is also equally evident that not all friendships are equal. I understand you have kept him from trouble at times when you were both at school.”
“My friendship with Bingley has been much to my benefit as well,” replied Darcy. “Not that he did not need assistance with some of the scrapes he got into at university.”
The family laughed as Bingley’s face began to resemble a ripe tomato. He sputtered and protested his innocence, but his father only patted him on the back and returned his attention to Darcy.
“I am grateful for it, regardless. Please know that you are welcome here any time. We are happy to have your acquaintance.”
Darcy was aware that Mr. Bingley’s profession of appreciation might be taken with another meaning, should a man be the suspicious sort. Darcy’s father, in particular, might have thought their pleasure was derived solely from the Darcy family’s prominence in society. But Darcy knew better. Bingley was among the least pretentious people to whom he had ever been introduced, and he was certain the remainder of the family was the same. Thus, he accepted their thanks and professed his own pleasure at the acquaintance.
In truth, he was far from displeased with the conversation as a whole. While he had not considered it consciously, he was relieved to know that his impulsive action had not appeared to damage Miss Elizabeth in any way. It seemed evident she had put whatever she had felt behind her, if she was easy enough in company as his friends had said. Darcy was gladdened, though he was forced to wonder if she had thought about him these past years, and if she had, what, exactly, was her opinion. Those thoughts stayed with him the entire afternoon and even after they had been called to dinner.
Darcy found that he enjoyed his time with the Bingley family. They were a
happy, friendly lot, not given to airs or any other such nonsense. Considering the world Darcy inhabited, Darcy appreciated their lack of pretension, for higher society was full of it. Why, Darcy had often met daughters of mere tradesmen who thought the possession of a handsome dowry allowed them to look down on others as if they were descended from the king himself!
Being well aware of their history, Darcy knew that they were new money, and in many circles in London—especially the circles in which he moved—they would be considered usurpers. Many would think them less than worthy to be termed gentle folk, regardless of their possession of an estate. There were also many in the Bingleys’ position who would affect even more haughtiness to compensate for the perceived lack of respect they received.
In some ways, Darcy enjoyed their company better than that of his own family. His father, for example, was not a man to look down on others for their position in society. But he was well aware of the Darcys’ history and was accordingly proud of it. Even his uncle and aunt, who were about as unpretentious as any of their own position, were still cognizant of their position and prone to arrogance at times. It was, Darcy supposed, part of being noble.
That evening, after the elder Bingleys had decided to retire, his friend invited Darcy to his father’s study for a nightcap. Darcy went willingly, his head still full of the thoughts which had been occupying him all day. Bingley seemed to be insensible of Darcy’s introspection, for he spoke enough for both of them, and then others, besides. After some time of this, Darcy’s interest was pricked by a comment made by his friend.
“With all this talk of Miss Bennet, I might have thought you would already be engaged to the girl.”
Bingley blushed, looking a little silly. “I might have. But there was the whole business with her mother, you understand.”
“I did not say married, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “It is clearly improper to court a woman when she is in mourning. But she has been out of mourning for some time, has she not?”
