by Beth Poppet
Mr Darcy returned to his letter and dipped his pen as he dipped his head, the better to hide the genuine smile that had appeared there.
Chapter Seven
Once Jane had recovered enough to be removed to Longbourn, the residents of Netherfield Park had a visit from Mrs Bennet and the rest of the daughters to fetch her and Lizzy home. They extracted a renewed promise for a Christmas ball, seeing Mr Bingley raised again in everyone’s estimation for his hospitality and kindness. The other residents of Netherfield did not fare so well in their interactions with the women of the Bennet household. Mrs Bennet succeeded in giving insult to Mr Darcy and Caroline Bingley within the same breath, and while Lydia tried to turn to the subject to merrier things by way of distraction, she only managed to appear brazen. Mary said nothing but looked as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world besides where she presently sat, and Kitty had a coughing fit which panicked Miss Bingley into ushering them all away lest she be burdened with another Bennet girl as an invalid house guest for the next three months.
The Bennet girls’ exodus from Netherfield left an exultant Caroline to confess her great delight in having, “one’s house to one’s self again,” never minding the legal contract belonged to her brother. In matters of housekeeping, she was mistress of all, and Mr Bingley was too grateful for her taking on such a role laden with responsibility to correct her.
“However,” she remarked teasingly to Mr Darcy, “I do believe you may be sorry to see them go. Perhaps in this moment you are missing a certain Miss Bennet’s conversations and professed interest in your hunting dogs?” she questioned with poorly veiled disdain.
Charles looked up expectantly at the mention of Miss Bennet, but realising his sister spoke of Elizabeth and not Jane, he listened instead with quiet interest.
“On the contrary,” Darcy denied. Her company was a mere diversion. Pleasant enough, but not worthy of feeling bereft now that it was wanting.
He sipped his tea while his gaze drifted out the window, settling on the drive where she had set off with her sisters and mother, determined not to dwell on her any longer. She fascinated him; that he could not deny in his private musings, but the disparity of their situation and the unsuitability of her connexions made it impossible to consider her more than… what had Miss Elizabeth called them? Friendly acquaintances. Her family’s utter lack of decorum after this morning’s visit made that all the more evident. The presence of her mother and sisters would certainly not be missed, no matter the liveliness Miss Elizabeth brought into the household.
Bingley was extraordinarily quiet, and had he not treated his sisters and guest with the same cordiality as he always had, Darcy might have thought him to be brooding. He answered every comment addressed to him with the same open affability as he was used to, but he was not so jovial; not so eager to offer commendations to every breathing and inanimate thing that pleased him.
The lives of Kitty and Lydia were much changed over the course of Jane’s illness, ever since the militia had come to winter in Meryton. All aspects of life seemed to hold even more cheer for them, as not only had they a grand ball to look forward to but would have plenty of handsome men to dance with there, as Mr Bingley had generously invited every officer of the regiment. With Jane and Lizzy both returned from Netherfield, Mr Collins expected soon, and their Uncle and Aunt Gardiner with all four children staying with them until after Christmas, Longbourn was as filled to bursting as the best of Cook’s mince pies. Lizzy hoped that their young cousins might keep Kitty and Lydia too occupied with games and little dramas to bother with their fantasies of officers, but they managed to engage in both with curious aptitude.
They were especially infatuated with a young man of the regiment who had called several times on the Bennets while the eldest sisters were away. Neither Kitty nor Lydia could speak of anyone or anything else for days on end once Jane and Lizzy were re-established into the household. The officer in question had been invited to sup with the Bennets, and would do so presently, now that the family was complete again. Mrs Bennet had drawn up the menu, Cook had rolled up her sleeves to the elbows, and even Mary put a little effort in her appearance, though she denied it outright and acted appalled when Jane said she looked pretty.
Mr George Wickham was charming to the core. His manners were open, considerate, and he spoke as handsomely as he looked. As all the officers were to be invited to Netherfield, he was able to promise with delicacy that if indeed the invitation extended to him, he would gladly dance with any of the Bennet sisters who wished it. This was pronounced with no soaring affectations compounded by flatteries, but a kind consideration that Elizabeth liked very much.
In fact, she liked him so well, that Jane gave off speaking either directly or vaguely of Mr Darcy at all, and instead began dropping hints and compliments about Mr Wickham. Elizabeth smiled prettily, and neither denied, nor asserted Jane’s suggestions, but was certainly impressed with his manners from the start.
“How fine a thing,” she mused silently, “would it be to marry a man who was confident and considerate in all forms of society; a man who could deflect Lydia’s foolishness without being discourteous, and charm Mama without resorting to repugnant flattery.”
“Of course,” she said aloud, “Mr Wickham is not half so suitable for marriage as Mr Darcy with his fortune, nor is he as strikingly handsome, but one cannot expect all the virtues in a single man.”
“Indeed, one cannot!” cried Mrs Bennet. “It is best that he is nothing like that odious man, Mr Darcy,” she determined savagely, still smarting under the way he’d turned his nose up at her during their visit to Netherfield. “Mr Wickham is exceedingly agreeable and the most charming man I have ever met. Besides, perhaps, Mr Bingley.”
Mr Bennet’s opinion of him was complimentary in his own way. “He is charming, to be sure. He smiles, and nods, and makes love to us all.” He raised his brows in a manner that indicated he was about to make sport of Mr Wickham despite his like of him, “How good of him to enlighten us on the manner of his misfortunes in life. I daresay, one could write novels from all the hardships he’s borne.”
“You refer to his allusions of being mistreated by someone who was under obligation to help him?” Lizzy queried. “You do not think him to be entirely honest?”
“Oh, I warrant it’s likely enough that a wealthy friend may have turned his back on him rather than supported his chosen profession, but what of it? There are half a dozen misers from here to the public house. If Mr Wickham was as earnest in his service to the country as he is in making it known that he has been treated poorly and deserves more than his lot, he might make a proper officer yet.”
“I believe Wickham,” Lydia insisted. “I think whoever it was has treated him abominably and should be publicly shamed for abusing him so. Poor Wickham. To think he could be worth a small fortune if his friend had not proven false!”
“Yes, Lydia, but would he be here supping with us if he was a man of wealth?” Lizzy wondered aloud.
“Of course, he would!” she retorted with an unladylike huff. “He is not so stuck up and disapproving as your friend, Mr Darcy, who only seems to think well of people who are as rich as he.”
“If I were rich, I would not turn my back on my friends,” Kitty declared. “I would buy them all the best presents and make them all wildly happy to be my friend.”
“And you would buy me the blue velvet pelisse while you had the green, and we’d be ever so fashionable that all the officers would fall madly in love with us,” Lydia exclaimed.
Both girls fell into peals of laughter until Lizzy scolded them for their volume, and for speaking ill of Mr Darcy whom they hardly knew.
“I don’t know why you defend him,” Lydia pouted. “Mama thought him quite disagreeable when we were at Netherfield, didn’t you, Mama?”
“I did, indeed! Very proud, and disagreeable. He may be the richest man of our acquaintance, but he is not worth bearing for even ten thousand a year. I can hardly
stand the sight of him. Lizzy, you had best not seek his favour. It is Mr Bingley I should like to see you marry.”
Colouring deeply for Jane’s sake, Lizzy said with haste, “Mama, Mr Bingley and I would never suit. If you have your heart set on us a match, you’d best give it up lest you be disappointed.”
“Well,” she sighed, “Look to Wickham, then. He is worth a hundred Mr Darcys if you ask me. Did you notice the pretty way he admired the new trim in the parlour, girls? Not many men would take note of such detail.” A meaningful look was sent Mr Bennet’s way, but he did an excessively good job of ignoring it in favour of his book.
“Mr Collins noticed it,” Kitty said with a naughty smirk, producing a laughing snort from Lydia.
“Yes, you are right, Kitty,” Mrs Bennet answered, though in not the same throes of delight. “Jane is very lucky to have gained the heart of Mr Collins, and with Lady de Bourgh as a benefactress, Jane will have no worries for the rest of her days. At least there I may rest easy.”
“When is he to return?” Lizzy asked Jane softly so as not to be overheard by the younger girls.
“In his last letter to me, he expressed his intentions of returning within the month.”
“So soon?” Lizzy’s heart sank.
“We are to be married upon the new year, you know,” Jane frowned sympathetically, sorry to see Lizzy so distressed by what she supposed to be old news. “He could hardly be expected to come only for the wedding.”
“But it’s not as if he has anything to prepare here. He might give us these last weeks to ourselves,” she complained. Then, “Perhaps the weather will prevent his return and the wedding will be delayed another week or so,” she mused hopefully.
“Lizzy…” Jane’s tone turned gently warning, but she was interrupted by the quarrel between Mary and Lydia regarding which carol to practice singing for the children.
Mr Collins returned in the most dismal weather, barely preceding all the sleet and ice and snow, though in enough of a downpour to make Hill quite cross for all the watermarks he left in his carelessness upon entering the house. He arrived in Hertfordshire still in time to attend the ball at Netherfield, though it was something no one was particularly glad about apart from him. On the eve of the ball, Sir Lucas’s carriage was sent for Lizzy and Mary, so they at least were spared the company of their cousin for a short spell. Sir Lucas’s two daughters, Charlotte and Maria, were dear friends of Elizabeth and her sisters, and so the party in that carriage was a particularly merry one, though Charlotte could tell by Lizzy’s countenance that not all was as it should be.
She was well aware of how much Lizzy disliked Mr Collins but had hoped by this time Lizzy would have resigned herself to the match and begin to see the wisdom in it. Their friendship being a frank and open one, Charlotte told her as much on their way to the ball, Mary nodding sombrely in ponderous assent. All her attempts to defend Mr Collins or offer assurance that Jane had just as much a chance of being happy with him than with any other respectable man were met with steely expressions and icy responses however, so she refrained from endangering the mood any further with talk of the approaching wedding.
Netherfield was a spectacle of finery. If Elizabeth had thought it grand during her stay, now it was exaggerated to near palacelike splendour. The chandeliers were aglow over an immense dancefloor, a great crowd of elegant people in their best regalia eager to dance already gathering there. They waited for the calling of the dance in a sea of silk plumes, and rustling skirts; gold-trimmed waistcoats, and fluttering coattails, and yet there was still room for two or three times the number of persons presently congregating there.
Almost at once she spied Mr Darcy barely ten steps away, standing tall and aloof over the proceedings. He gave a slight nod to acknowledge her presence and seemed ready to approach through the throng of mingling neighbours, but as he took his first step, Mr Collins appeared before him to give his very best compliments and assure him that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was in the best of health only twelve days prior to this most auspicious gathering.
Too mortified by Mr Collins’s behaviour to face Mr Darcy now, Elizabeth searched instead for other persons of her acquaintance. It was not difficult to discover Mr Wickham’s whereabouts, as Lydia cried his name and nearly galloped in his direction the moment she entered the room. He was the centre of attention for a group of young ladies already, all fluttering eyes and bobbing curls. Once he caught Elizabeth’s eye, he broke from the flurry of activity and lively conversation, leaving his fellow officers to uphold the joviality of their own adoring audience.
The typical pleasantries were had, Miss Bingley’s adornment of the ballroom lauded, and Mr Bingley’s kindness in hosting such an elegant party complimented with all due expedience.
“Such sincere affability I confess I never expected from a man such as he,” Mr Wickham said when they were somewhat removed from the greater part of the clamour.
“You mean it something miraculous to find a man of wealth and good character?” Elizabeth put archly.
“I can speak only from my own experiences, which have formed my opinions; perhaps some unjustly harsh.” He raised his eyes momentarily and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial volume. “Are you much acquainted with Mr Bingley’s friend, Mr Darcy?”
Her eyes once more drifted to the gentleman in question. He was presently peering at her with hard lines creasing his forehead, as if she had grossly offended him in some way.
“I… suppose more than most in the county,” she answered, simultaneously attempting to ignore the deeply disapproving look she had just been subjected to. “I spent a full month in the same house as he, and though he is not always the easiest man to converse with, we exchanged more than one pleasant conversation.”
“Oh?” Mr Wickham’s gaze drifted from her face to Mr Darcy’s, and the lines in the latter gentleman’s scowl darkened considerably. “And what is your impression of him as a gentleman?”
More and more bewildered by the evident dislike the men had for each other, Elizabeth said, “He is reserved and even taciturn upon first acquaintance, but I believe wealth and rank have hindered his ability to converse with less austere persons as easily as others might. He is not unkind though and has a great fondness for his sister which I find admirable, indeed.”
“Have you met Miss Darcy?” Mr Wickham seemed genuinely surprised to hear her mentioned.
“No, but I hear nothing but praise from everyone who has. Even Miss Bingley, who never praises another of her own sex if she can possibly help it, and of course Mr Darcy seems to think his sister can do no wrong at all. Though I feel such praise may be injurious to my own chances of meeting Miss Darcy, for if I do not pass muster in his estimation the introduction may never be made. He guards her more jealously than some husbands I know.”
Wickham had grown strangely quiet. “Has he given you a reason for this… overprotectiveness?” Something in his tone turned bitter, “Do you not find it odd that a mere brother should be so jealous of a sister’s engagements and acquaintances?”
“I once told him that I wished I had a brother as good as he.” She arched an eyebrow. “Does that answer your query, sir?”
Rather than answering directly, Mr Wickham developed a scowl of his own and said, “You must take care not to believe everything that Darcy tells you. His position and riches have blinded many a young woman to his ungenerous nature before. I would hate for you to be taken in by him as well.”
Now more bothered than confounded, Elizabeth said, “I have hardly been ‘taken in’ by anyone, Mr Wickham. I am merely sharing what observations I have made while in the company of Mr Darcy. It was you who enquired in the first place and I can only tell you what little I know of him.” She bristled at the insinuation that his wealth and rank had turned her head and made her find virtue where there was none to be found. She thought she had done justice to Mr Darcy’s character without allowing personal prejudice to influence her opinion overmuch.
> She laughed without mirth as a rebuttal came to mind. “You should take care as well, Mr Wickham.”
“And why is that?”
“If you continue to interrogate me on the subject of Mr Darcy, I may be inclined to think you jealous of him.”
“Of having so much opportunity to spend time in your company, yes,” he said, lips curling into a charming smile, “But as he has squandered his opportunity and failed to secure your everlasting friendship, I believe I have no reason to be envious of him.” He had a merry twinkle in his eye as he added, “Especially not if you dance with me now, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Dance with you, I shall,” she consented, “but only because Jane has made me promise to dance as much as I am able tonight, and I intend to be a woman of my word.”
As Wickham took Lizzy through the minuet, Mr Darcy watched from his position near the wall. The piercing voice of Mrs Bennet met his ear as she remarked on Wickham’s skill in the dance, how fine his figure was when coupled with her daughter, and Lizzy’s good luck in catching his eye, though she did little to deserve it.
“I had hoped that Lizzy would try harder to gain Mr Bingley’s attention,” she complained to Lady Lucas, “but it seems she is as infatuated with a red uniform and gold buttons as the rest of our girls. Though I cannot blame her. Wickham is so handsome, and his manners!” she gushed with the volume of a London fish vendor. “They are the most charming in all the world! I had thought at one time Mr Darcy might do for one of our girls, but he is so proud, you know, it almost makes him too disagreeable for polite company. Better he keep to his rooms than come down to parade over us with such a severe and disapproving countenance.”
Mr Darcy could not be certain whether Mrs Bennet knew he was near enough to hear her censure of him, but regardless, the words caused him to wonder at Miss Elizabeth’s apparent new preference for Wickham. Was this all her mother’s doing? Had she purposed to slight him just now in favour of the lieutenant? Such a notion was not to be borne. If she was so easily persuaded against him by her petty relations, he should be grateful that he had not allowed his interest in her to grow into anything like affection.
