“Mr. Darcy is a different man than most,” she continued slowly. “He is not one who speaks or smiles easily. He thinks about every word before he says it, and he hides his emotions behind a mask of good manners. Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, is a charming man who is easy to like. Yet, I find myself thinking that Mr. Darcy is the better man. The ones that know Mr. Darcy best, his friend Mr. Bingley for example, speak most highly of him. I have not heard of any acquaintance who can give Mr. Wickham the same endorsement.”
Elizabeth was surprised at how easily the words flowed from her, yet she felt what she said must be true. Her walk had done much to help clarify and organise her thoughts and feelings.
“And your personal thoughts on the man?” Mr. Bennet asked. Elizabeth felt the organization of her thoughts flee from her mind.
“I-I don’t… I mean to say…” she stammered, uncertain how to respond. She swallowed hard. “He seems to be most intelligent. And kind. And…” She flushed a deep scarlet and closed her mouth, not knowing what else to say.
“I wonder, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said, leaning forward into the last of the dying sunlight. Elizabeth was surprised to see a wide smile upon his face. “If you hear yourself.”
“Hear myself?” Elizabeth asked, unsure what her father meant.
“You speak as though you have affection for this Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said, and Elizabeth felt her heart start to beat faster. She had only recently recognised such feelings within herself, how could her father have known so quickly?
“I would not describe my feelings as affection,” Elizabeth mumbled. “I will admit, I am intrigued by the man. And I do not believe him to be deserving of the treatment Mama has given him.”
“Intrigued?” Mr. Bennet sounded amused, and Elizabeth felt herself becoming annoyed with her father. Yes, she was intrigued! Why must he repeat it in a tone that implied so much more?
“It does not matter,” Elizabeth said. “This afternoon made it abundantly clear that Mr. Darcy’s name is black within the Bennet household.”
“No, my dear Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet sighed. “It is not. For I am still the head of this household, and my opinion of Mr. Darcy remains quite high.” Elizabeth’s heart leapt to hear her father say such a kind thing. “Do not worry about your mother. I will speak with her, and it will all be well.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Elizabeth said. She did not know yet what she hoped for, or what she wanted. But she was grateful that her father was helping her have the chance to explore.
Chapter 20
Darcy
Darcy and Bingley had barely reached the end of Longbourn’s gravel drive before Bingley began to whistle a happy, bouncing melody. Darcy could see that his friend had immensely enjoyed the afternoon spent at Jane’s side. As bright as Bingley’s face had been prior to the visit, it was still a pale comparison to the joy that shone on the man’s face now.
“Isn’t it a glorious day, Darcy?” Bingley burst out after a few minutes of whistling.
“It is agreeable,” Darcy agreed. But Bingley shook his head.
“No, no, Darcy!” He said forcefully. “How can you reflect upon our afternoon and declare the day merely ‘agreeable’?”
“Well,” Darcy said dryly. “I believe that I enjoyed the company of that Mr. Collins a fair bit more than you.” And Mrs. Bennet and those younger girls, he added to himself.
“Yes, he was a funny little man, wasn’t he?” Bingley laughed. He clearly viewed Mr. Collins with amusement, not annoyance. Darcy fought the urge to shake his head—Bingley was clearly in a mood that could not be dampened. He was glad for his friend, but that did not mean that he had to join in. Bingley began to whistle once more.
They continued to ride along, and Darcy began to consider Bingley’s assessment. The afternoon had been nice, despite Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet, but perhaps ‘agreeable’ was an ill-fitting term. After the disastrous start to the visit, when Mr. Collins took it upon himself to monopolise all of Darcy’s attention, the afternoon had steadily improved. Once Elizabeth had redirected Mr. Collins in another direction, he and Elizabeth had been free to spend the afternoon talking with one another.
She was a fascinating woman, he again admitted to himself without hesitation. She was well-read, intelligent, humorous and kind. He had been surprised to learn that she had a solid understanding of the politics of the day, and her opinions were entirely her own. He had never thought that a woman could make him reconsider his positions, yet Elizabeth had challenged his thinking in such a way that he found himself questioning. She had not been forceful or blunt, merely curious and open. It was an experience he would not soon forget.
“Darcy,” Bingley burst out suddenly. “I have something I must share.”
“What is it?” Darcy asked slowly, wondering what his friend was thinking.
“I’m in love. With Jane Bennet. And I am thinking of proposing.”
Darcy was surprised; he had recognised that Bingley was interested in Jane. He understood that there was affection blossoming, but he had no idea that Bingley’s feelings had become so strong.
“But you understand how I could feel such things,” Bingley gave Darcy a sly grin. Darcy was confused.
“Whatever do you mean?” He asked.
“Why, Miss Elizabeth, of course,” Bingley said, sounding truly surprised that Darcy had not followed him.
“What about Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
“I think you should propose as well,” Bingley said in a resolute voice. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are as close as sisters could be. I think they would be quite pleased to marry at the same time.”
“Marriage?” Darcy breathed, shock in his voice. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying, Darcy,” Bingley said in an overly patient voice, “that you and Elizabeth make a fine pair. And do not pretend that you have not thought the same.”
Darcy scowled, embarrassment rising within him. Bingley was speaking of things that Darcy was most uncomfortable with. He was still uncertain of his feelings toward Elizabeth, and here Bingley was, pushing him towards a proposal!
“I find her interesting,” Darcy admitted, his face still cross. “But I hardly think that is the basis for marriage. In fact,” he gave Bingley a hard look, “you are rushing into this awfully quickly, don’t you think? You have known Miss Bennet for, what, two weeks? How can you be certain you love her? That she loves you?”
“She occupies my every waking thought, and my dreams as well,” Bingley said. “I find her to be the most wonderful creature I have ever beheld, and I know that we match each other well. Perhaps my love is new, but I know that it shall grow ever deeper the longer we are together.” Darcy could see his friend had a dreamy look upon his face.
“But what does Miss Bennet think?” He pressed.
“She… Well,” Bingley look hesitant for the first time. “I am… almost certain she has an affection for me as well. She must! Why else would she spend so much time with me? And only me?” His sunny face seemed to draw some clouds. “Of course, she is a devastatingly kind person…”
Darcy could see that his questions were bringing about a melancholy upon his friend. He felt bad, that had not been his intention.
“She likes you,” Darcy assured his friend. He thought that much was true. “But I wonder if you are rushing a bit too much. You do not want to frighten her with the ferocity of your feelings.”
“Perhaps,” Bingley said. He seemed sombre, but Darcy thought he had managed to head off Bingley’s plunge into despondency. “She is shy…”
“She is incredibly shy,” Darcy agreed. “And such a declaration after so short an acquaintance might push her away. She is developing feelings, I am sure of it, but you do not want to push too soon.”
“Like a gust of wind blowing out the sparks of the beginning of a fire,” Bingley said.
“Precisely,” Darcy agreed, glad that Bingley seemed to be hearing sense. His friend was
far too likely to go running off without realizing a cliff lay ahead. Darcy did not want his friend to be hurt in this venture, no matter how pleasant Miss Bennet might be.
“You speak wisdom,” Bingley admitted with a sigh. “But I am loath to put off my happy future even one day.”
“I know,” Darcy said comfortingly. “But is it not better to have some assurances first?”
“Yes,” Bingley said with a hint of a sulk. “But I want your promise on something.”
“Anything,” Darcy replied, glad that Bingley was understanding.
“If I am to take my time with Miss Bennet, you must make more of an effort with Miss Elizabeth.”
“I cannot say that I know what you mean,” Darcy said, hating that the conversation had turned back to this.
“Very well. I shall believe you if you say you have no feelings for Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said, his tone unconvinced. “But I will warn you: she is a rare woman. If you let her go, you may never have another chance with her.”
Darcy looked at his friend and Bingley held his eye for several long moments. Finally, Darcy nodded.
Bingley was correct, and Darcy hated that his friend was so observant. He was being forced to consider feelings and futures that he was not ready for, and it was uncomfortable. However, if he did not think about these things, he might lose any chance with Elizabeth. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. He had never thought that life could be so confusing.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth
“I cannot believe that Mr. Bingley was able to arrange a ball so quickly!” Elizabeth exclaimed, helping Jane pin up her blonde curls in a becoming manner. “How did he manage to accomplish such a feat in only a weeks’ time?”
“I do not know,” Jane admitted with a smile. “But I suspect that his sisters provided more than a touch of assistance.”
“I’m certain they did,” Elizabeth said dryly. “I know it is most unkind to think, but I suspect that this evening will give Caroline Bingley an opportunity to educate us poor country folk.”
“Lizzy, it is hardly worth noting your thoughts are unkind if you are going to say them anyway,” Jane replied.
“I have my reasons,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I believe it will do us both good to prepare ourselves for what Caroline might have planned.”
“And I believe you are far too suspicious,” Jane said, turning her head and examining herself in the mirror. “Tonight will be wonderful, you shall see.”
Elizabeth saw Jane turn pink and knew her sister’s mind must have wandered to a different Bingley. In an instant, Elizabeth decided to banish all thoughts and conversation of Caroline and instead focus upon Jane. Elizabeth dearly wished that tonight would be perfect for her sake—Jane deserved it.
She laid her hands lightly upon Jane’s shoulders. “You look beautiful,” she said.
Jane turned and smiled. She reached out and pushed a strand of Elizabeth’s brown hair back into place. “As do you.”
Elizabeth glanced at her own reflection and what she saw was pleasing, but she knew she dimmed in comparison to her radiant elder sister. It had always been so, but Elizabeth did not mind. Instead, she accepted herself as she was and took pride in her sister. She looped her arm into Jane’s and began to walk toward their bedroom door.
“What a sight we shall be,” she said. “It will be a miracle if anyone can keep their eyes from us.”
“How you exaggerate, Lizzy,” Jane laughed. They reached their door, but before they could go through, Jane paused. Elizabeth looked at her, surprised. Jane looked nervous.
“Do I really look fine?” Jane asked quietly. Elizabeth heard an unfamiliar note in Jane’s voice—she had never before been apprehensive about her appearance. Elizabeth knew this must be a sign of Jane’s deeper feelings, and her face softened into a smile.
“If Mr. Bingley says more than two words to anyone else, that will be the true miracle,” Elizabeth said in a soft, encouraging voice. Jane squeezed her arm.
“Truly?”
“Truly,” Elizabeth said reassuringly.
A shriek and loud clatter drew their attention to the hallway, where Kitty and Lydia were involved in a loud spat over a pair of stockings. Elizabeth winced, having no desire to be drawn into their dispute. Jane, however, released Elizabeth’s arm and went to their younger sisters, eager to play the peacemaker.
Elizabeth ducked past the trio and slipped down the stairs. If she were lucky, she could catch a few moments to herself before the evening truly began. However, as she neared the bottom step, she heard voices that made her wish she had stayed to listen to Kitty and Lydia bicker.
“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Collins’ tremulous voice reached Elizabeth’s ear. “As you know, I came here in the great hopes that I would meet my future bride. Who better to share my life with than the daughter of the estate I am to inherit.”
Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry. She crept closer to better hear the conversation.
“I hardly dared to hope that your visit would have such a joyous outcome,” Mrs. Bennet said, a note of barely contained excitement.
“Yes, well,” Mr. Collins cleared his throat. “My patroness, the lavishly generous Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has shared her belief that it is past time I was married. And as soon as I laid eyes on Jane, I knew her to be the perfect partner for my future life. I had intended to wait until after the ball to make my intentions known, but the ardour of my affections has prompted me to speak now.”
Jane! Elizabeth’s mind raced. Mr. Collins could not foist his affections upon Jane, not when her own affections so clearly lay with another.
“I am afraid you are too late to win Jane’s affections,” Mrs. Bennet said, and Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief. “I believe we shall find Jane engaged any day now.”
“Engaged?” Mr. Collins said, his dismay evident in his voice.
“Yes, but Elizabeth—her second in both age and beauty—is unencumbered,” Mrs. Bennet said quickly. Elizabeth, hearing these words, felt herself go quite limp. She could not marry Mr. Collins! He was a fool! And she did not love him. She could not marry anyone she did not respect or love—the prospect of such a life filled her with dread.
“Elizabeth?” Elizabeth felt a surge of hope, for Mr. Collins sounded quite doubtful. There was a long pause during which Elizabeth held her breath. “Elizabeth… Yes, she would do. I believe Lady Catherine would find her acceptable. As would I…”
Elizabeth let her breath out slowly, trying to overcome the panic rising within.
“I shall fetch her now!” Mrs. Bennet said, excitement filling her voice. Elizabeth turned to race back up the stairs, but Mrs. Bennet caught her. “Lizzy!” She hissed, stopping her daughter in her tracks.
“Hello, Mama,” Elizabeth said in a strained voice. She did not want her mother to know she had overheard. “We are almost ready for the ball. We are quite pleased to be able to go…” She was rambling but she hardly knew what else to do. She knew what was coming and wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Mrs. Bennet, however, was having none of Elizabeth’s delaying tactics.
“Lizzy,” she said, interrupting Elizabeth’s ramble. “Mr. Collins wishes to have a word with you.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said faintly, her mind desperately looking for an excuse. “Now is not a good time, I’m afraid. I am not quite ready for the ball and you know how Lydia and Kitty will be cross with me if I cause a delay in our departure…”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet said impatiently. “You look lovely. And I suspect that you will not care for much at the ball after speaking to Mr. Collins.” She bustled from the sitting room door and grabbed Elizabeth by the hand.
“Please, Mama,” Elizabeth said desperately, losing all pretence. She considered digging her heels into the hallway carpet, to stop her mother from pulling her into a life she would despise. “Please, do not make me do this.”
Mrs. Bennet ignored her plea and continued to pull at Elizabeth’s arm. Elizabeth, n
ot knowing what else to do, allowed her mother to tow her into the sitting room. Mr. Collins stood inside, streams of sweat obviously trickling down his face.
“Here she is, Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Bennet said brightly, depositing Elizabeth firmly in a chair. “I shall just give you a few minutes to talk before we leave.”
“Mama, no,” Elizabeth clutched Mrs. Bennet’s hand, desperately attempting to keep hold. “Nothing Mr. Collins has to say cannot be heard by all. Please, stay…”
Mrs. Bennet pulled free without looking at Elizabeth. “No, no,” she said. “I would not dream of keeping you under my eye now.” She patted her hair, and pretended to be unaware of Elizabeth’s obvious distress. “I shall leave you to it.”
She swept towards the door, not giving Elizabeth a second glance. The door to the sitting room slammed with a foreboding thud.
“My dear cousin,” Mr. Collins began, his voice warbling. Elizabeth turned to see the clergyman kneeling upon the carpet, altogether too close to her. Elizabeth pulled away from him in alarm, her heart racing. She felt as if she were watching the scene as a spectator, unable to change what was coming. Dread filled her as she watched Mr. Collins inch closer, closing the gap she had created.
“Mr. Collins,” she said, a slim hope that she might be able to stop things before they got too far. “I know what you are going to say, and I beg you to reconsider.”
“Reconsider?” Mr. Collins replied, amusement in his voice. “I am given to understand that proper ladies are always shy and hesitant, and I am pleased that you are such a lady. But you must allow me to describe the depth of my affections for you…”
Elizabeth’s mouth tightened, annoyance flaring within her. Did the man truly believe her desperation was a sign of feminine modesty? Or that she would not know that he had been equally enraptured with Jane just minutes before?
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