by Jann Rowland
“However, I must say that I am surprised at Darcy; I never would have thought he had it in him. She is a wonderful lady to be certain; if I possessed a fraction of Darcy’s wealth, I might even try my hand at her.”
Wickham’s comments, Fitzwilliam knew, were designed to provoke him to anger. There was little to do but ignore them.
“The point is that Miss Bingley is not likely to accept a proposal from a lowly soldier. Even I, who can claim to be the son of a peer and own an estate, am not good enough for her.”
“You have your own estate?” asked Wickham with a raised eyebrow. “When did this happen?”
“An unexpected inheritance from a distant relation,” replied Fitzwilliam. “It is not large, but it will support me when I put off the scarlet.”
“Then why have you not done so? I might have thought the merest hint of such independence would have sent you fleeing from the army.”
“Because, Wickham,” said Fitzwilliam, “some of us possess a sense of duty.”
The barb struck home, but, as Fitzwilliam expected, it did not injure Wickham. Quite the contrary.
“Then you have my best wishes. As for Miss Bingley, yes, it is very possible she will refuse my overtures. But that is my business—you can have no complaints if I do not misbehave. And as for Miss Bingley’s pretensions, I know as well as you they are doomed to disappointment. The last I heard, Darcy was to marry Miss de Bourgh. Do you suppose he means to make Miss Elizabeth his mistress?”
The glare from Fitzwilliam informed him he had gone too far. True to his character, Wickham did not apologize or appear abashed, but he clamped his lips shut and waited for Fitzwilliam’s reprimand.
“If you think that, you do not know Darcy at all,” rejoined Fitzwilliam.
Wickham shrugged, relieved he had not provoked greater anger. “No, I suppose you are correct. I should not have said it, and I apologize.”
Any apology offered by Wickham was worthless, and as such, Fitzwilliam decided against pursuing it. “I understand you are not fond of my cousin, Wickham, but I would ask you to avoid defaming his character in my presence. Darcy is one of the best men I have ever known; he has not dealt with you as many men would have, and that is just one of the examples I could cite as evidence of his goodness.”
A tight nod was Wickham’s only response.
“As for Lady Catherine’s fantasies, I assume you understand they have little chance of ever being realized.”
Again, Wickham showed his lack of interest. “Perhaps they do not. One way or another, however, Miss Bingley has no chance of eliciting a proposal from Darcy. If I am the one to fill the void when she is inevitably let down, am I to be despised because of it?”
“No, I have no objection. My only purpose was to inform you of the situation between the lady and my cousin. What you choose to do with that information is your concern.”
“Then, if I may be excused?”
Fitzwilliam waved him from the room, watching as Wickham sauntered out the door. Of one thing Wickham was correct: there was nothing Fitzwilliam could do if there were no signs of impropriety in his pursuit of Miss Bingley. Wickham would discover the woman’s character for himself, it seemed, and Fitzwilliam had little reason to prevent him from running over that cliff.
The animosity Wickham still held for Darcy, however, meant that it would be best for Fitzwilliam to avoid speaking to him more often than necessary. The cur’s words had almost earned him a facer right there, which would not look good at all on Fitzwilliam’s military record.
As evening fell over the county of Hertfordshire, the gentle families prepared for what many were calling the social event of the year. It was true, given the lack of large estates in the area and the recent emptiness of the one that boasted a ballroom. If those inhabitants could have seen some of the spectacles held in London during the season they might have thought otherwise; few were in that fortunate position.
At Longbourn, the preparations were little different from those at any of the other estates, though perhaps the activity was a little more frenetic. The simple reason for this was the composition of the family, for no other estate boasted a collection of five young ladies preparing to descend on the ball, leaving broken hearts and jealous lovers in their wake. Or at least that was the hope, laughingly spoken by the youngest more than once. The elder sisters had more sense than to think the whole of the community would fall down at their feet in awed silence. Mr. Bennet, in particular, was in a pleasant mood, for as he informed his closest daughter, he would not be attending the entire evening.
“In fact, I consider this Mr. Darcy to be a smashing chap,” said Mr. Bennet. “For, in allowing his sister to attend, he smoothed the way for my youngest to also grace Mr. Bingley’s ball with their presence. And since they will depart after dinner, someone must see them back to Longbourn. I, naturally, am more than happy to provide that service.”
“Oh, Papa,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head at her father’s antics. “Only you could be gleeful at the thought of leaving a ball early.”
“I am not the only one, Lizzy,” replied Mr. Bennet, “for I am certain Mary is only a little more inclined to it than I. Regardless, I shall be happy to convey your sisters to their beds and retreat to my bookroom for a little well-earned rest from the excesses of society.”
“I hardly think this is London, Papa.”
“No, but I detest society all the same. You and your sisters may have your enjoyment in the ballroom—I much prefer my bookroom.”
Hearing him speak in such a manner, Mrs. Bennet looked heavenward, and shook her head, smiling with affection. Mr. Bennet, she had long known, was not a sociable man, so his assertions did not surprise her. Elizabeth had heard stories from her mother, tales of her youth and courtship with her husband, in which she had painted a picture of a more open Mr. Bennet. Or perhaps it was that he had indulged the woman he was courting. Mr. Bennet had withdrawn over the years in keeping with his character, and Mrs. Bennet had supported him, saying she had had her fill of dancing when she was young and was content to sit with the matrons now.
Overseeing the preparations of the five Bennet daughters brought Mrs. Bennet much pride and joy, for she was proud of her progeny and made no effort to hide it. As they all gathered in the entrance, waiting for the time to depart, she inspected them, straightening fichu here, or pulling a ribbon a little tighter there. No imperfections escaped her keen eye, for they were laid bare before her, anything out of place promptly repaired; her girls were to look their best that evening. As she went to each, Mrs. Bennet shared a few words with them.
“My goodness!” exclaimed she as she deftly tucked a few strands of Elizabeth’s hair back into her coiffeur. “I declare you and Jane shall be the loveliest ladies at Mr. Bingley’s ball. What lucky men Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley shall be to have you on their arms!”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Elizabeth, noting that Mr. Collins was scowling at her. “We shall do our best to do you justice.”
“There is nothing you could do that would make me any less proud of you,” said Mrs. Bennet, touching Elizabeth’s face. “You are all a mother could want.”
“Perhaps,” interjected Mr. Collins, his nose stuck up into the air, which affected his voice, making it sound as if he spoke through his nose, “you should speak less of Mr. Darcy, for I am certain the gentleman has only singled you out due to his unusual condescension for those of a lower sphere. He can have no designs on you, Cousin.”
“Let us allow Mr. Darcy to make that determination, shall we?” said Mrs. Bennet, her mild tone belying her flashing eyes.
“I had given some thought to paying my cousin the compliment of my attention,” said Mr. Collins, ignoring that which he did not like. “Distracting you away from your pursuit of Mr. Darcy would allow the gentleman to direct his attention to his betrothed as is proper.”
“It would be best, Mr. Collins,” said Mrs. Bennet, “if you removed such thoughts from your head altogether. Not o
nly will my daughter not accept any assurances from you, but I would not allow you to make them.”
Mr. Collins shrugged as if it were of no moment. “As she chooses. I have no interest in my cousin regardless.”
“And for that,” said Elizabeth in a low tone to her mother, “we may thank the Lord Almighty.”
The women laughed together though Mr. Collins took no notice.
“You may do as you please,” continued Mr. Collins, “but let me warn you, Cousin, that Lady Catherine will take a dim view of your actions with respect to Mr. Darcy. Her ladyship insists on keeping the dignity of rank in mind at all times, and as she has a stake in this matter, you should expect a catastrophic rebuke should you persist.”
The parson then turned away, leaving Elizabeth regarding him as his tuneless hum rose over the group.
“What do you suppose he means by that?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose it is possible he has written to Lady Catherine or will inform her when he returns.”
The frown with which Mrs. Bennet regarded the parson might have frozen him. “Then you should speak to Mr. Darcy, Lizzy.”
“Yes, I suppose I should,” replied Elizabeth. “I would not presume to know what the gentleman is thinking, but he has made clear his position concerning his cousin. If it is possible Lady Catherine will journey here to confront me, Mr. Darcy will wish to know.”
“Perhaps he has not made it clear by word, but by deed, he most certainly has.”
Mrs. Bennet kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and moved on to her next daughter. It had always been a bone of contention between mother and middle daughter about Mary’s fashion choices. Mary, being the most pious and modest of the Bennet sisters, insisted on a conservative form of dress, one which had been called dowdy within Elizabeth’s hearing more than once. With the assistance of her eldest daughters, they had convinced Mary to adopt a more fashionable dress, though she was still more modest than her sisters. Mrs. Bennet, knowing this, did not comment on her daughter’s dress, which was pretty, and instead focused on her hair and accessories.
“You have your music with you, Mary?” asked Mrs. Bennet.
“Right here, Mama,” said Mary, patting a small satchel.
Nodding, Mrs. Bennet reminded her: “Remember to wait until invited, Mary, for Mr. Bingley will ask his sisters to perform first. I believe you will do very well, for you have chosen a beautiful piece of music.”
With a pleased smile, Mary nodded, and Mrs. Bennet moved further down the line, at length coming to her youngest two. “Remember to behave yourselves, girls,” admonished Mrs. Bennet. “I will not have the Bennet family spoken of in whispers because you run about with no heed to our reputations. Your father will escort you home after dinner, and I expect you to find your beds when you arrive home.”
The girls chorused their agreement, though it was clear Lydia was put out at being required to return home early. Having completed her inspections, Mrs. Bennet led her daughters out to the carriage, accompanied by the two gentlemen. There was one further disagreement when they were to set off, Mr. Collins objecting to being required to ride on the box with Mr. Bennet and the driver, one that Mr. Bennet resolved with a few pointed words to Mr. Collins.
“My carriage is not large, Mr. Collins; I doubt there is one in all the land that will seat eight in comfort. I have six ladies in my family, which limits where gentlemen may sit, as I have discovered myself many times.”
“You should have thought of this in advance, Mr. Bennet,” grumbled Mr. Collins. “To require me to ride on top with a common carriage driver is beyond the pale.”
“I have done it many times,” replied a firm Mr. Bennet. “If you dislike the arrangements, Meryton is a mile down that road.” Mr. Bennet pointed past Longbourn village. “You may walk, or you may stay home. Would you have the ladies ride on top while we sit in comfort inside?”
“No, of course not,” muttered Mr. Collins, though Elizabeth was uncertain he was at all sincere.
That little bit of drama behind them, the ladies entered and the men perched themselves on the top, and the carriage lurched into motion. Elizabeth, knowing her mother’s increasing disgust for the parson, turned to her, noting that her gaze, from the front-facing seat to the box at the top, would have impaled Mr. Collins if he was not hidden by the carriage.
“What a truly excellent man Mr. Collins is,” said she to no one in particular. “Such chivalry! Such solicitousness! Such a gentleman!”
“It is a relief that you did not require one of us to marry him to save the family,” said Lydia, in a voice Elizabeth thought too loud. “Any woman who has Mr. Collins for a husband must wish to strangle him within minutes of saying their vows.”
“I cannot say you are incorrect, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, “but mind your tone. Mr. Collins is irksome and difficult, but we would not wish him to overhear.”
“Oh rubbish!” said Lydia, though Elizabeth noted her voice was more modulated. “Mr. Collins cannot hear us in this carriage with the noise of the wheels on the gravel.”
“Mind your sister, Lydia,” said Mrs. Bennet. Then she gave her youngest an affectionate smile. “There is no need to save the family, Lydia. We are not wealthy, but none of us will know want if we must leave our home. Besides,” added she, fixing Jane and Elizabeth with all the affection of a proud mother, “two eligible gentlemen have been paying their attention to your eldest sisters. It may be premature, but their behavior is such that I have high hopes for both.”
With renewed purpose, the sisters teased their eldest, which Elizabeth parried with an expertise born of long experience, while Jane ignored them. Then with excited exclamations for the evening to come, they passed the rest of the brief journey to Netherfield. Within moments they had arrived, joining the line of carriages waiting to empty their passengers. And on the second floor, as Elizabeth stepped out, she noticed the commanding presence of Mr. Darcy looking down on her.
The look he bestowed on her could not be mistaken, for it spoke of promise and passion, love and devotion. Then the gentleman disappeared from the window, and Elizabeth knew he would join her within moments. With a deep breath, Elizabeth pushed her nerves aside and readied herself for the evening to come, convinced it would be as magical as she had hoped.
Chapter XV
The sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet that evening, stepping daintily from her father’s carriage with his assistance, was akin to an epiphany to Darcy. This was a beautiful woman, both inside and out, the likes of which Darcy was certain he would not find if he searched the length and breadth of England without ceasing for the rest of his days. What did it matter if he had only known her for a short time? They would have the rest of their lifetimes to come to know each other better if only they both possessed the courage to take that step. Perhaps it was a little premature, but only a little.
Regaining control over his limbs after first catching sight of her, Darcy hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time down to the entrance hall where the Bennet family was just entering. The smile he received from Mrs. Bennet and the knowing look from Mr. Bennet informed him that both senior Bennets were aware of his interest, their smiles a testament to their approval.
Darcy greeted them both with pleasure, welcoming them to Netherfield, though he was aware it was not his duty to do so. Then they ceded Miss Elizabeth’s company to Darcy and moved off toward the receiving line.
“I have waited for you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. The sound of his own voice, speaking such drivel, almost provoked a wince.
“Waited for me?” asked Miss Elizabeth with feigned astonishment. “Why would you wait for me?”
The woman’s jest calmed Darcy’s beating heart just a little, allowing his mind to function again. “Do I not have the first dance? Or do you intend to foreswear yourself?”
“It is yours, Mr. Darcy. I have no wish to dance it with anyone else.”
“Then I am well pleased.”
They joined Eliza
beth’s family in the receiving line, chatting companionably as Darcy continued to calm, such that he could carry on a rational conversation. Miss Bingley, to Darcy’s distinct lack of surprise, greeted Miss Elizabeth with words as cold as the driven snow. Bingley met Darcy’s presence in the receiving line with his typical humor.
“I say, Darcy, I had thought you were staying at Netherfield. Did you, perchance, repair to the inn without my knowledge?”
“No, Bingley. I hope you do not blame me for not wishing to take more than two steps away from this lovely creature by my side.”
Bingley laughed to Miss Elizabeth’s self-consciousness and exclaimed: “Would that I could do the same. When all the guests arrive, I shall emulate you closely.”
Darcy smiled and slapped Bingley’s shoulder, and then guided Miss Elizabeth into the ballroom. Georgiana came close to ply Elizabeth with an excited greeting, after which, she left, giggling in the company of the two youngest Bennet sisters. Darcy watched her, happy this time in Hertfordshire had raised her spirits and putting a little of the girl she had once been back into her.
“Your sisters, it seems, are as excited as Georgiana for the evening,” observed Darcy.
“Yes, the first taste of society is a heady experience.”
Darcy thought to say something else, but Miss Elizabeth’s countenance turned serious at that moment. “Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, but there is a matter I must bring to your attention. Before we left Longbourn, Mr. Collins had a few more choice words to say about our association.”
“Did he?” said Darcy, his eyes finding the tall parson where he stood, waiting with unconcealed impatience for Miss Bingley to join them in the ballroom. “Perhaps I shall need to speak with the estimable Mr. Collins again.”
“Of more importance,” said Miss Elizabeth, “his words suggested he may have written to your aunt with his version of our acquaintance. Or he will tell her as soon as he arrives home.”
