Rescued by Mr Darcy

by Anne-Marie Grace

  Jane’s eyes had barely begun to skim the first lines when Mrs. Bennet’s patience wore out.

  “Who is it from?” She burst out. “What does it say?”

  “It is from Caroline Bingley,” Jane answered with a small smile. “She has asked Elizabeth and I to dine with her and Mrs. Hurst.” Elizabeth choked a bit on her toast—an invitation for her as well? She did not think she had made a favourable impression upon the party from Netherfield, why would she be included in such an invitation.

  “Both of you?” Mrs. Bennet asked, rapturous questioning in her voice.

  “Yes,” Jane confirmed. “And it seems that both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will be joining us as well.”

  Elizabeth saw Jane’s cheeks go pink. Reaching out for her cup, she took a long drink of water to clear the crumbs from her throat.

  “Did Caroline say why I am included in the party?” She asked, still quite confused. “I cannot imagine a reason to extend the invitation to me as well.”

  Jane glanced sideways at her, a question in her eyes, but Elizabeth hoped she would not voice it. If Mrs. Bennet was reacting this way towards Mr. Bingley, she did not want to find out her mother’s reaction to Mr. Darcy—who, if the talk were true, was wealthier than Bingley by far. Elizabeth could feel a pit in her stomach at the very thought.

  “She did not give reasons,” Jane said slowly. “However, I talked about you a great deal during the ball. And, dear sister, you cannot pretend not to know that you have a reputation for adding much to any gathering.”

  “If she can keep that tongue in check,” Mrs. Bennet said in a disgruntled tone. “For as many that praise your sister’s company, there are an equal number that are not sad to see the back of her.”

  Elizabeth frowned, stung by her mother’s assessment. It was not untrue, but it was hardly a fair assessment.

  “There is a dearth of quality company in this county,” Elizabeth said loftily, attempting to hide her wounded pride. “Those whom I have offended are put off by my intelligence and wit, and I am surprised they realise the insult of my company.”

  “You see?” Mrs. Bennet said in an exasperated tone. “Jane, you must promise me that you will keep your sister from offending a great man such as Mr. Bingley!”

  “Lizzy does know who to behave,” Jane said pointedly.

  “You know I would move heaven and earth for your happiness,” Elizabeth said, favouring Jane with a smile. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  Mrs. Bennet folded her arms in disgruntled satisfaction with the promise.

  “Then, we must decide what you shall wear! Did Mr. Bingley happen to mention what shade or hue he finds most becoming?”

  Mrs. Bennet began to question Jane closely. Elizabeth took another bite of her breakfast and began to think of the upcoming dinner with a growing sensation of apprehension.

  It seemed likely that Mr. Bingley had asked his sisters to invite Jane to Netherfield—such ploys were commonplace. However, Elizabeth still did not understand what role she was to play. For a moment, she wondered if Mr. Darcy had made the request. Her heart thudded at the thought, but she quickly dismissed it. His attitude had been polite, but nothing more. It was silly to credit more affection upon him than he was due. Especially with what Mr. Wickham had implied about the man’s attitudes and temperaments.

  She still did not know what to make of the seemingly-gallant officer. He had been kind and charming—much more charming than Mr. Darcy. But she was uncertain: he possessed a sort of charm that seemed manufactured. Authenticity seemed absent from his presentation, but that could be for a number of reasons. Balls in strange places were hardly the best way to learn one’s true nature.

  But the offer to Netherfield was interesting nonetheless. Jane was obviously full of nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing Mr. Bingley again, and Elizabeth’s own pleasure for her sister was great. Mr. Darcy was a question that did not need to be answered at this moment. Jane’s impression upon Mr. Bingley was a far more pressing matter for her attention.

  * * *

  “Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” the servant intoned at the door of a well-appointed sitting room.

  Jane nervously clutched at Elizabeth’s arm and seeing the gathered company, she understood her sister’s fear. Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were well-dressed in what, clearly, were the very latest fashions. Elizabeth and Jane were also dressed in their best, but Elizabeth was suddenly quite aware that the best Hertfordshire offered was far different from London. She squared her shoulders and tried to push away her growing apprehension. She would be strong—for Jane’s sake, if for no other reason.

  Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Caroline and Mrs. Hurst all rose and greeted the newly arrived guests. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley both bowed, while Mrs. Hurst and Caroline only slightly inclined their heads.

  “Jane, Elizabeth,” Caroline said in a sugary voice. “I am so delighted you were able to accept our humble invitation.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip to stop herself from giving a sardonic smile: nothing about Caroline conveyed humility. Instead, she gave a brief curtsy—deeper than the one Caroline had given, but not so deep as she might have.

  “Caroline, thank you,” Jane said in a quiet voice. “We were delighted to be able to accept your generous invitation. You remember my sister, Elizabeth?”

  “Of course,” Caroline said. “The reputation of Miss Eliza Bennet precedes her in this… quaint hamlet.” She gave Elizabeth a tight smile. Elizabeth felt herself stiffen: Caroline’s words may have been quite benign, but there was something in her tone and smile that gave Elizabeth the opposite impression.

  “Miss Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said, his eagerness to speak with Jane winning out over his patience. He favoured Jane with a wide smile. Jane, Elizabeth saw to her amusement, returned his grin shyly. Caroline, however, looked annoyed.

  Interesting, Elizabeth thought, promising herself to keep that look in her mind. It would be most unpleasant if Caroline decided to take too much of an interest in her brother’s affections.

  “Mr. Bingley,” Jane replied. “Your sisters were very kind to extend an invitation.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Bingley said. “You were glad to receive it?” He looked nervous, and Elizabeth bit back another smile—it seemed Jane was not alone in her excitement at the meeting.

  “Indeed,” Jane said with a blush.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Bingley beamed. “Tell me, how was your journey?” Elizabeth noted with delight that Jane and Mr. Bingley easily fell into conversation.

  “Come, Elizabeth,” Caroline said, taking her arm. “I fear my brother is not much interested in us at the moment. Let us take a turn about the room.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Caroline was already steering her away. Her sudden change of heart puzzled Elizabeth, but she supposed that Caroline cared for her brother’s happiness quite as much as she cared for Jane’s.

  She and Caroline walked for several paces without speaking. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw that Mr. Darcy was tracking the pair of them from where he had stationed himself by the fireplace.

  “I see our Mr. Darcy has caught your attention,” Caroline said, evidently noticing where Elizabeth’s attention had gone. Elizabeth felt herself blush.

  “I hardly know what you mean,” she said quietly, trying to brush aside Caroline’s words. She was embarrassed to have been caught staring. She moved her eyes to Caroline, but not before noticing Mr. Darcy shift his positioning. Had he heard what Caroline had said?

  “No one would blame you,” Caroline said, smiling at the man as they approached him. “Perhaps Mr. Darcy would care to join us?” Caroline had stopped directly in front of the man, and directed her question to him. Mr. Darcy seemed startled at the invitation, but he bowed stiffly and nodded his assent.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “I hope you are well.”

  “I am, thank you,” she replied, as they began to walk once more. It felt odd to walk in this
company, Caroline and Elizabeth each walking on either side of Mr. Darcy. It was not an arrangement that made conversation easy or natural.

  “Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, attempting to speak to both Mr. Darcy and Caroline. “Are you recovered? Jane told me you were forced to leave the assembly early due to a sudden malady.”

  “I am well, thank you,” Mr. Darcy replied, looking surprised at the question. “You are kind to remember. It was…”

  “Oh, he was in such a state,” Caroline interrupted. “I was so glad that I was able to care for him.”

  “You exaggerate,” Mr. Darcy said, his words coloured with something that sounded dangerously close to annoyance.

  “Mr. Darcy, you are always like this: too strong and brave to admit any weakness at all,” Caroline replied. She was speaking exclusively to Mr. Darcy, effectively cutting Elizabeth out of the conversation. Elizabeth suddenly felt very much the intruder. Caroline had cared for him? Was there a connection between the two of which she was unaware?

  “I assure you, it is not bravery that prompts my protest but simple truth,” Mr. Darcy said firmly. He turned away from Caroline and looked into Elizabeth’s eyes. “It was but a headache, easily cured with a good night’s sleep.”

  “I am glad it was so easily dispersed,” she said. “My mother suffers from headaches and there are times she is taken to her bed for days on end.”

  “That sounds terrible,” Mr. Darcy said. Caroline, at this point, had turned to face forward again. Their line was still poorly suited for conversation; however, Elizabeth was no longer purposefully isolated. “How is your mother’s health at present?” Mr. Darcy continued.

  “She is well,” Elizabeth replied, appreciating Mr. Darcy’s seemingly sincere curiosity. She began to ask after his family’s health but she stopped without saying a word, realizing that she was not familiar with his family at all. “Please, tell me of your family,” she asked instead.

  “My mother and father are no longer with us,” he answered evenly. Elizabeth murmured her regrets to this. “However, my younger sister, Georgiana, is a constant joy in my life.”

  “Georgiana,” Caroline said fondly. “How I adore Georgiana. A finer young lady I have not had the occasion to meet. She is very accomplished.” Caroline glanced at Elizabeth when she made this statement. Elizabeth, not knowing what to make of the look, ignored it.

  “Is she?” Elizabeth said, suddenly curious. “Tell me of her.”

  Mr. Darcy began to answer but Caroline talked over him.

  “Well, she is well-versed in all the important areas: literature, dance, drawing, French, music, and the like. But she has that additional quality that is so difficult to find in an accomplished woman. That exuberance of style and grace.”

  “You are kind to say such things,” Mr. Darcy said, giving Caroline a sidelong glance. Caroline favoured him with a brief smile, but quickly turned her attention back to Elizabeth.

  “You must know what I mean,” she said with an unctuous tone. “Let us take you, for example. You undoubtedly have been educated in all the same areas,” she paused, glancing at Jane and then back to Elizabeth. “I mean, you have, haven’t you?”

  Elizabeth felt herself go crimson—she was well aware of what education was expected of a gentleman’s daughter, and knew in what areas she fell short.

  “Such education is indeed important,” Mr. Darcy said, not seeming to notice Elizabeth’s silence. “And it is a mark of accomplishment.”

  “My goodness,” Elizabeth said with a nervous laugh. “With such high standards, it is a wonder that any of us of the fairer sex meet the mark of accomplishment.” Her face was burning, and anger was welling up towards both Caroline and Mr. Darcy. She did not appreciate the attempt to point out her societal deficiencies.

  “A mark,” Mr. Darcy said, stopping. “Not the only mark. As Caroline said, there are additional qualities that must be taken into account.”

  Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy in surprise. His words were obviously intended to bolster Elizabeth against Caroline’s claims. Caroline, too, seemed to realise this and she drew her mouth tight. Elizabeth smiled hesitantly at Mr. Darcy in thanks, and he gave her a small smile in return.

  “You must give Georgiana my greetings when next you write,” Caroline said in an annoyed tone. “I long to see her again.”

  Mr. Darcy took a long moment to turn away from Elizabeth and refocus his attention upon Caroline. Elizabeth felt a small bubble of pleasure rise within her—she felt a momentary stab of guilt that she would be glad to see Caroline so annoyed. However, the guilt quickly faded. Caroline was doing her best to dominate the conversation. It was not Elizabeth’s fault that Mr. Darcy was not allowing her to do so.

  “I had planned to write to her this evening,” he said. “I shall add your greetings.”

  “I’m ever so grateful.” Caroline again turned her back to Elizabeth and attempted to push her out of the conversation. This time, Elizabeth’s annoyance rose in a perceptible manner. She had been looking forward to this dinner, but if this was the way Caroline proposed to treat her guests, Elizabeth was uncertain she wished to stay. She did not want to be caught up in whatever game Caroline was playing.

  However, before Elizabeth’s annoyance could make an outward appearance, she glanced about and saw how well Jane and Mr. Bingley were getting along. Mrs. Hurst had joined them, and all three were smiling and laughing with none of the competition and strain present in her own conversation. Jane was enjoying herself, and so Elizabeth determined that she too would enjoy herself—despite what Caroline Bingley may have planned.

  Chapter 12

  Darcy

  Darcy was usually not one who enjoyed lingering over the table in talk, however, he found the conversation on this evening to be worth the time and effort. He delighted in watching Bingley chat animatedly with Jane and her more subdued, but no less enthusiastic, replies. It seemed his friend had found a good counterpart to his own personality. But even more than watching Bingley, Darcy had enjoyed learning more about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  Caroline had attempted to dominate conversation in the sitting room and had attempted to continue during the meal. However, Elizabeth had artfully involved the entire table in the conversation to such a degree that Caroline had no opportunity to monopolise Darcy’s, or anyone else’s, attention. The look of consternation upon her face was vastly amusing to Darcy’s eyes and he, on several occasions, was forced to hide his own smiles behind a napkin. It was fascinating to behold.

  In the course of the evening, Darcy had learned much about Meryton and the surrounding countryside. He had finally been convinced to share his version of the night of the bandits, with Elizabeth and Jane adding their recollections as well. Darcy found it much less awkward to share the tale in conjunction with the sisters—though they still insisted he was far more courageous than the facts supported. He had even learned a little bit more about the Bennet family, and been reminded the family had five daughters and no sons. This information did much to explain the mother’s behaviour at the assembly.

  As the meal finally came to an end, the party settled themselves in the sitting room.

  “Shall we begin a game of cards?” Mrs. Hurst asked, glancing about. “Caroline, perhaps you, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would be interested?” Darcy watched as Caroline’s eyes widened and she glanced significantly over at Bingley and Jane. Mrs. Hurst seemed to understand at once. “Or you, brother? Jane? Perhaps the Bennet sisters would like to partner, and Charles, you and I can play?”

  Bingley glanced at Jane, and seeing her reaction, answered his sister: “Not tonight, not for me.” He hastily resumed his conversation with Jane. Darcy wondered what topic had occupied them for so long, but was not about to interrupt to find out. Mrs. Hurst looked about, waiting for others to answer her invitation. Darcy was in no mood for cards.

  “I think not, Mrs. Hurst,” he said apologetically. “Perhaps some music?” He knew Mrs. Hurst loved to play the pianoforte and ho
ped this would soften his refusal for a game.

  “Oh, music,” Caroline said in a delighted tone. “What a wonderful idea. But sister, you have delighted us many an evening with your talent. Perhaps our guests would like to share. Elizabeth, do you play the pianoforte?”

  Elizabeth gave a small laugh before answering.

  “To claim I play would be bordering upon perjury,” she said ruefully. “For I play but a little and very poorly.”

  “What a shame,” Caroline said in mock disappointment.

  “I am sure you possess more talent than you claim,” Darcy told Elizabeth kindly. She gave him a grateful smile and he felt a warm satisfaction.

  “You are kind, Mr. Darcy, but I assure you it is not modesty that pushes me to make such statements.” She laughed again. “Jane, perhaps you can attest: I cannot play the pianoforte with any skill at all.”

  Jane laughed as well and gave her sister an apologetic smile. “I am afraid I must agree. Elizabeth has many talents, but music is not among them.”

  “Then you, Jane?” Mrs. Hurst offered. “Perhaps you would favour us?”

  “I suppose I can play one song,” Jane said nervously. “But I warn you, I possess no great talent either.” She got up and moved to the piano in the corner of the room. Bingley got up and moved with her, leaning on the piano as Jane took a seat. Mrs. Hurst joined them as well.

  “Jane is modest,” Elizabeth said quietly to Darcy. “She has a voice to make a nightingale envious.” Caroline frowned and adjusted her position on the divan. Darcy pretended not to notice, instead focusing upon the woman at the piano.

  Jane’s hand hovered over the keys for a moment before she began to play. The notes were hesitant and imprecise, but the voice that accompanied them was as beautiful as Elizabeth had promised. Darcy watched Bingley as they all listened. His friend’s face was transported, and Darcy understood why. The music was beautiful and he was glad Jane was convinced to play. Time seemed to stand still throughout the song, but soon enough Jane’s fingers stopped moving and she glanced nervously about the room.