Though she had resolved to allow Jane to approach her, Elizabeth found this new addition to her sister’s behaviour intensely curious.
“Jane,” she said, still brushing her hair. “You seem in a world all of your own. What has your mind so pleasant that you hum and smile?”
Jane blushed, but quickly turned to face Elizabeth.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane sighed. “He is just as a man ought to be.” Elizabeth smiled widely: she had suspected a certain gentleman had something to do with Jane’s demeanour.
“Would you be referring to the very rich, and very eligible, Mr. Charles Bingley?” she teased.
“You know I care not for such things,” Jane said, sounding a bit hurt.
“I do,” Elizabeth assured her. “I was only teasing. So, tell me, what draws you to this Mr. Bingley?”
Jane thought for a moment before answering.
“He is so kind,” she said. “He smiles easily and often. He cares for similar pursuits as I. When he speaks with me, it is as if I am the only person in the world. He listens when I talk and enjoys what I have to say.” Jane paused, a wistful look in her eye.
“Besides, he is quite handsome,” Elizabeth added with a grin.
“Indeed, he is,” Jane agreed with a blush.
“Well, you need not worry about me. For Mr. Bingley is handsome in his own way, but I think I prefer a darker man,” Elizabeth laughed. To her surprise, two faces popped into her mind: Mr. Darcy and Lieutenant Wickham. It was her turn for her cheeks to flare.
Jane, despite her own preoccupation, noticed.
“Oh yes, Lizzy,” Jane said. “I noticed a certain dark man caught your eye. It was pleasant to once more make Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance, was it not?”
“Surely you jest,” Elizabeth said with a nervous laugh. “For I am not certain I could ever again face the man! I cannot recall a time when I have been more humiliated—to confuse his name with another’s… I am still crimson at the thought!”
“He was not unkind, was he?” Jane asked, suddenly full of concern. “He left so soon after your dance, but I never imagined it might be for that reason!”
“No, he was understanding,” Elizabeth quickly said. “I believe I am alone in my consternation over the affair. However, I did not realise that he had left so early…”
When she had not seen Mr. Darcy for the rest of the night, Elizabeth had assumed that he had been kept busy by talk of politics and business among the men. Or had been cornered by the mothers with eligible daughters—a danger for every bachelor at such occasions. But this was the first she had learned that he had left.
“I thought you knew,” Jane replied in surprise. “He came to us looking quite disturbed soon after the first dance. He claimed a headache and I could see something was not right with him. He returned to Netherfield with Mr. Bingley’s sisters.”
“I had no notion that my company was so objectionable,” Elizabeth said, feeling hurt that she might be the reason for his exit.
“Of course, it isn’t!” Jane said, clearly horrified. “He was most clear that your company had been quite enjoyable. Though infirmary was entirely possible, his retreat was most mysterious. Had anything else happened?”
“Well,” Elizabeth said, her tired mind recalling the evening. Jane’s reassurances had done only a little to salve her pride and she was determined to find fault in a place beyond herself. “He met Mama.” Elizabeth smiled grimly. “Heavens know that Mama can give anyone a headache when she puts her mind to it.”
“That’s unkind, Lizzy,” Jane said. “You know Mama does everything out of her love for us.”
“That is true,” Elizabeth agreed. “And I do not truly believe that it was Mama who drove him away.” She struggled to recreate the scene in her mind. “We were standing, and Lydia and Kitty were just coming to introduce us to a couple of the officers…” A connection clicked in her mind. “I wonder if Mr. Darcy had seen Lieutenant Wickham,” she mused, tapping her chin with the brush.
“Wickham?” Jane asked, confused. Evidently, she had not met the officer.
“One of the officers captured by Lydia and Kitty,” Elizabeth explained. “He saw Mr. Darcy departing and said they knew each other from their pasts. But I cannot imagine why Wickham would cause Mr. Darcy distress. He was charming, to be sure, and while I suppose not everyone would be impressed with his demeanour, I cannot see that as a reason to leave a party.”
“He was quite adamant about going,” Jane said. “And he seemed agitated, although that might have been from the discomfort in his head.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, yawning once more and stretching. “But it seems a mystery we are unlikely to solve.”
“Agreed,” Jane said, yawning to match.
Both sisters crawled beneath the blankets, and Elizabeth blew out the lamp on the table. They lay together in quiet for several minutes, Elizabeth with her eyes closed, waiting for sleep to overtake her.
“I liked him very much,” Jane said quietly.
Elizabeth smiled in the dark: Jane’s affections were not easily won. This Mr. Bingley must truly be remarkable.
“Then he is a lucky man,” Elizabeth said sleepily.
“I hope he liked me,” Jane whispered, barely loud enough for Elizabeth to hear.
“How could he not?” Elizabeth replied. “You are wonderful.”
“I do not think his sisters thought much of me,” Jane said tremulously.
Elizabeth pursed her lips in the dark and made a dismissive voice in her throat.
“Well, if even half of what the people at the ball said is true, then Mr. Bingley’s sisters do not approve of much,” she said scornfully.
“Don’t be mean,” Jane said reproachfully. “Imagine how difficult it would be to come into a public ball, strangers among old friends and neighbours. It would be quite daunting.”
“Jane,” Elizabeth said in disbelief. “You defend the ones whom you just said did not like you! I am quite unconvinced that Mr. Bingley should ever find another woman with more patience and kindness than you.” She turned on her side and faced Jane in the dark. “And if he cannot see it, then he is a fool.”
“I suppose we shall see,” Jane sighed. “But thank you for your confidence.”
“I only tell the truth,” Elizabeth said seriously. She turned to lay on her back once more. “Now, sleep well, my dear sister. Dream of your Mr. Bingley,” she teased.
“And who shall you dream about?” Jane asked with a giggle.
“Surely not a man to be found outside of silly novels,” Elizabeth replied.
Jane giggled again and turned to her pillows once more. Silence again overtook the sisters. Long after Jane’s breaths had settled into a deep, even cadence, Elizabeth found herself staring at the ceiling.
There was a man filling her thoughts, but she would not have admitted it to anyone for the world. She did not want anyone to know that tall, dark, mysterious Mr. Darcy occupied her mind and kept her from sleep. That was a secret she was satisfied to keep to herself.
Chapter 10
Darcy
“You want me to do what?” Caroline Bingley said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, brother, surely I have misheard you.”
Darcy buttered a piece of toast and watched the exchange with detached interest. He had not slept well the night before and he had hoped breakfast would be a quiet meal. But to his dismay, he had walked into a skirmish.
“Do not be dramatic, Caroline,” Bingley said, setting down his teacup. “You would think I had asked you to do an impossibility. I have simply requested you issue a dinner invitation. How difficult could that possibly be?”
“It is not the issuing of the invitation that is the problem,” Mrs. Hurst said patiently, as if explaining a very simple concept to a child. Bingley did not seem amused at the treatment, but Caroline nodded in agreement.
“It is who you have asked me to invite!” She exclaimed.
Darcy frowned. Caroline’s tone was arrogant to
the extreme, and quite unwarranted, in his opinion.
“What problem could there be inviting Miss Bennet to dine with you?” Bingley asked, turning red. “I thought she was wonderful. And you seemed to enjoy her company as well. You cannot tell me you have met a kinder person.”
“Well, yes, I did enjoy her company,” Caroline admitted.
“Then you shall have no trouble inviting her for dinner,” Bingley said triumphantly.
Caroline opened her mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she sighed and returned to her breakfast. Darcy continued to eat as well, deep in thought. He had seen that Bingley had taken a liking to the eldest Bennet girl, but he had no notion that his interest had been so completely won. It was most unlike Bingley to keep his attentions on a single lady for much longer than an evening, much less for him to pressure his sisters into an invitation.
“When do you propose to have this dinner?” Caroline asked, obviously still not enthused by the idea.
Bingley leaned back in this chair, his teacup balanced on his fingers as he thought carefully.
“Give her several options,” he finally answered. “We do not have any pressing obligations for the next week, so I believe we can offer some flexibility.”
“As you say, brother,” Caroline replied. “And I suppose you will be joining us?”
“As is proper for the master of the house,” Bingley said, turning pink again. His face brightened as another thought entered his mind. “In fact, invite her sister, Miss Elizabeth, as well. I know she and Miss Bennet are close, and I heartily enjoyed her company as well.”
Darcy was so startled by this addition, that he swallowed his tea too quickly and burned his tongue. He hardly noticed, however, for the tea was no match for the growing warmth in his chest. The thought of seeing Elizabeth again, and so soon, filled him with nervous anticipation. He knew not what to make of it.
“Am I to invite every Bennet in the county?” Caroline asked crossly. Bingley looked at her mildly, leaning back in his chair.
“No,” he said. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth would suffice for now.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. “Now, you’ll please excuse me. I want to speak with the head groom about the horses for the hunt this afternoon.”
He strode around the table and kissed both his sisters on their cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said in a tone that said he meant it.
Neither Caroline nor Mrs. Hurst said anything, but they waived him from the room, gloomy looks on both their faces.
“Would you have believed it?” Caroline said to Darcy after a few long moments of silence.
“Believed what, Caroline?” Darcy asked, continuing to eat. He suspected that what Caroline had to say was not pleasant.
“That we would be playing host to guests such as these,” Caroline said loftily. “Surely you could not have failed to notice the youngest Bennet girls?” She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Darcy did not say anything, instead waiting for Caroline to continue. “Why, the middle one nearly drove everyone out with her terrible playing on the pianoforte. And I have heard cats sing better than she! And the youngest two, frolicking and flirting with everything in a red coat!”
Darcy frowned; he had not noticed these things.
“The whole assembly was talking about it,” Mrs. Hurst said with a delicate shudder.
“I see from your face that I have shocked you,” Caroline continued. “Perhaps I am unkind in my assessment of the middle, but I assure you, I am generous about the younger.”
“I’m afraid I can neither confirm nor deny your claims,” Darcy said slowly. “I may have seen the younger girls with some officers, but, as you know, I was overcome and took little notice of what that would mean and what else went on around me.” Had Elizabeth’s sisters truly behaved in such a wanton manner? How could their parents have allowed such a thing?
“Of course, how silly of me to forget,” Caroline said smoothly. “How did the tonic I sent you work?”
Darcy grimaced at the memory of the tonic. He had taken one smell of the stuff and poured it out the window. But Caroline had been kind in her attempt, despite his aversion to her motivation.
“My headache was gone before I lay to sleep,” Darcy said truthfully. His restless sleep had nothing to do with his head and everything to do with the fury that coursed through him until late into the night.
“Caroline is well-known for her remedies,” Mrs. Hurst added, looking significantly from her sister to Mr. Darcy. It seemed that Caroline had recruited reinforcements for her quest. Darcy felt deeply uncomfortable.
“You are too kind,” Caroline said to Mrs. Hurst. “And Mr. Darcy, it warms my heart to hear I was able to help in my own, small, way.” She gave him a simpering smile. Darcy cleared his throat, desperately wanting to move away from this subject.
“So, you did not care for Miss Bennet either?” He asked.
“Oh, Jane Bennet is just as lovely as my brother claims,” Caroline said with a wave of her hand. “But that doesn’t matter. Her family is just not…” She paused and lowered her voice. “Our sort of people.”
“Well said, Caroline,” Mrs. Hurst agreed pompously.
Darcy felt uncomfortable. If Caroline’s description of the Bennet family were accurate, then she might have a point.
“I mean, the officers over whom they were swooning were not even regular officers! They are militia—and you know the sort that they allow to purchase commissions in the militia.”
“I do know the sort,” Darcy said, his mind going back to Wickham. He found himself breathing hard, fighting to keep his anger at bay. Glancing up at Caroline, he was glad to see that she had not noticed his sudden ignition of anger. Caroline, it seemed, was still wrapped up in demeaning the Bennets.
“I will freely admit that Jane is a beauty and Elizabeth, I’m sure, has her merits as well. Everyone seemed to think well enough of them, but the others…”
The mention of Elizabeth brought that strange feeling back again. It felt strange to have the nervous anticipation warring with his anger—Darcy could not say which he would want to win.
Caroline finally took notice of Darcy’s expression and seemed to connect it to her mention of Elizabeth. “Oh yes, I remember now, you also found Elizabeth to be good company.” She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“Perhaps what you say about the Bennets is true,” Darcy said, avoiding looking at her. “However, I would beg you to remember your brother’s feelings. He is a good man and he deserves happiness.”
“No one is arguing with that,” Caroline said defensively. For all her faults, she was very fond of her brother. It was a quality that helped Darcy tolerate the woman. “You know I want Charles to be happy, but I am not convinced that Jane Bennet will be anything other than a temporary joy! It is almost certain her family will bring sorrow as well.”
“You cannot know that,” Darcy said. “Either way, happy or sad. It is simply too early to say for certain.”
Caroline sighed deeply, looking displeased. Darcy could sense that he had illuminated a point that she could not refute.
“I suppose you are correct,” she finally said with a sigh. “And the only way for any of us to know, one way or another, is to continue with this ridiculous dinner invitation.”
“Correct,” Darcy said, the nervousness fading, leaving only anticipation behind. Caroline did not look pleased by the notion. “Cheer up,” Darcy continued. “Perhaps you’ll find that you have misjudged them.”
“Yes, perhaps I will,” Caroline said, not sounding convinced in the slightest.
Darcy, however, took note that he was quite pleased with the manner in which breakfast had occurred. It was not until the idea had been raised that he realised how much he would enjoy seeing Elizabeth again. He must remember to thank Bingley for the suggestion…
Chapter 11
Elizabeth
Jane and Elizabeth had barely come down the stairs before Mrs. Bennet’s
fluttering trills overwhelmed them.
“Jane! Jane!” Mrs. Bennet cried, waving an envelope in Jane’s face. “A letter! From Netherfield Hall!” Elizabeth quickly glanced at Jane and saw that her sister had gone quite pale.
“From Netherfield?” She asked faintly, a hand pressed lightly to her cheek.
“Indeed!” Mrs. Bennet said, fanning her overexcited face with the letter. “Come this morning. And before breakfast! Oh, I knew you could not have been so beautiful for naught.”
“Mama,” Elizabeth said sharply. “We do not know what this letter contains, nor who it is from.”
“But who else could it be, my dear?” Mrs. Bennet said, taking Jane’s hand and pulling her toward the dining room. “Who else, but Mr. Bingley?”
“It could not be Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth dismissed at once. “It would be most impertinent for such a man to write to Jane directly.”
“One of his sisters then,” Mrs. Bennet replied, waving away Elizabeth’s protests. “Does it really matter? A letter from one is as much as from the other!”
“Perhaps we should allow Jane to read the letter before we begin to plan her future,” Elizabeth said wryly. She took a seat at the breakfast table and pulled a platter of toasted bread toward her.
Mrs. Bennet pushed Jane into a chair beside Elizabeth and shoved the letter into her hands.
Jane took the letter with trembling hands, picked up a knife from the table, and carefully pried the wax seal away from the paper. Mrs. Bennet watched her with hungry eyes, not bothering to take her own seat at the table.
Elizabeth took a bite of toast and chewed slowly as she watched Jane. She knew Jane hated this sort of attention and she wished she could help spare Jane their mother’s attentions. But Elizabeth knew Mrs. Bennet far too well to think that she might be easily distracted at this point in time.
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