by P. O. Dixon
Smiling inside, Elizabeth could well imagine what her dear mother’s advice might have been: “Far better that the burden of caring for you should fall to a husband than an unappreciated mother with more than her fair share of single daughters to get rid of.”
Chapter 6
Anytime Elizabeth was fortunate enough to meet her friend Miss Charlotte Lucas on one of her early morning walks was a happy time. Not only were those times growing fewer, sadly there would be no such incidences at all once Charlotte became Mrs. Charlotte Collins.
Elizabeth did not know which bothered her most: that she was losing her intimate friend or that her friend had willingly accepted a future life with a ridiculous man by her side. Experience had taught her that what remaining time she had with Charlotte in Hertfordshire was best not squandered with talk of Charlotte’s marital felicity.
Besides, talk of Mr. Bingley’s return was all anyone who knew and loved Jane considered worth discussing.
“I say Mr. Bingley’s return is a very good thing for our Jane. Let us pray she is far more encouraging of his admiration than before. I have said it once, and I shall say it again: If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him.”
What better time than that for Elizabeth to question her friend’s stratagems in securing such a hasty proposal from her own intended, but thinking better of it, she held her tongue.
Charlotte continued, “I should hate to see her disappointed in love a second time by the same man.”
“Nor I, to be sure. But I have to suppose that Mr. Bingley’s coming at Christmas is a strong symptom of his affection for Jane, when he might very well have simply remained in town. No doubt, London is very diverting!”
“What if Mr. Bingley’s good friend Mr. Darcy accompanies him?”
Elizabeth swallowed. It was not as though she had not silently asked herself that very same question a time or two since learning of Mr. Bingley’s plans. Her own father had speculated on a possible return of the proud man as well and, oddly enough so far as Elizabeth was concerned, what it might mean to her.
“I am quite persuaded he will not,” Elizabeth asserted.
“But, what if he does?” Charlotte’s tone indicated she was just as determined to receive a definitive response from her friend as Elizabeth was determined not to offer one.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I am certain Mr. Darcy’s possible return can have nothing at all to do with me.”
“You say that, but everyone we know bore witness to the honor he bestowed in asking you to stand opposite him at the Netherfield ball.”
“Honor? Why must I consider dancing with Mr. Darcy such an honor? I have danced with any number of gentlemen, have I not? Including the night of the Netherfield ball.”
“Indeed. But you were the only woman beyond his intimate circle whom Mr. Darcy danced with.”
“For the sake of putting an end to this topic, I will allow that what you say is true. And I will go even further by pointing out the obvious.”
“The obvious?” Charlotte repeated, her eyes as well as her voice questioning.
“Indeed—the obvious, for despite the ‘honor’ the gentleman bestowed upon me, there has been nary a single word spoken between the two of us hence. What say you now, dear Charlotte?”
Charlotte grinned. “I say only this: What if Mr. Bingley’s good friend Mr. Darcy accompanies him?”
“Oh, Charlotte! You are absolutely incorrigible.” Her attitude turning to wistfulness, Elizabeth continued. “What in heavens shall I do without you?”
Chapter 7
Christmas Eve came and went, as did Christmas Day, along with all the gaieties which those days were wont to bring. The eve of the first was replete with a yule log on the fire and the exchanging of gifts, and the morning of the second was spent in Church among friends and neighbors. Indeed, all was exactly as it ought to be throughout the halls of Longbourn House. Almost, for as festive as the two days proved to be, neither day brought the one thing Mrs. Bennet desired most.
The arrival of the day after Christmas, or rather the arrival of Mr. Bingley, was a balm for Mrs. Bennet’s vexations that he might never come as well as her family’s relief in seeing its effect on Mrs. Bennet. Immediately upon receiving confirmation, she commenced counting the hours that must pass before her family could finally receive him at Longbourn. Oh, if Mr. Bennet had only taken it upon himself to call at Netherfield as soon as his wife heard the news and all but begged him to do so, the lady’s ebbing anxiety and woes would have been all but prevented.
A constant vigil at the window was thereby required of all her daughters lest they might be unprepared to receive their wayward neighbor when he eventually came to call.
Kitty was the fortunate daughter to espy the young man’s arrival, early the next day.
“There is a gentleman with him, Mama,” she cried. “Whoever can it be?”
“As long as he is handsome, what does it matter?” young Lydia asked, rushing to her sister’s side to see what she could see.
Mrs. Bennet said, “It is some acquaintance or other to be sure, my dear. And your sister is correct, as long as he is handsome what does it matter?”
“And single,” Lydia added, giggling.
“And wealthy,” Mary added somewhat derisively. She shrugged nonchalantly in response to her sister Elizabeth’s ensuing silent, yet half-hearted, rebuke.
“La!” replied Kitty, “it looks just like that man that used to be with him before. Mr. what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”
“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy!” Confirming the arrival of the haughty gentleman from Derbyshire with her own eyes, Mrs. Bennet scoffed. “And so it is, I vow. Well, any friend of Mr. Bingley’s will always be welcome here, to be sure; but I must say that I hate the very sight of the proud Mr. Darcy.”
“Mama!” Jane and Elizabeth cried in unison, the latter giving a silent prayer that her mother’s imminent reception of Mr. Darcy would belie her true sentiments.
Scattered about the parlor, the Longbourn ladies all stood straight and tall when the housekeeper showed the visitors into the room.
“Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy,” the servant said and then quit the room.
Bingley, upon entering, seemed hesitant at first. But a warm look and a smile from Jane gave him to know he was quite safe with her and absolved from his omissions and thus compelled him to go directly to her, bow, and take his place by her side.
Elizabeth, with a triumphant smile, glanced toward his friend. Though she did not mean for it to happen, their eyes met and held fast on each other's for a moment or two. This, Mr. Darcy must have read as encouragement, for he placed himself directly by Elizabeth’s side. On the other hand, she could not blame him for choosing to stand next to her.
The gentleman cannot have missed my family’s warm reception of his friend Bingley in comparison to his own.
Finding herself coming to Mr. Darcy’s defense against her mother’s impolitic behavior was nothing new. She had done so on a number of occasions during their acquaintance. She accepted her burden with a mixture of relief and vexation. Relief because her mother’s grievances against the gentleman often evidenced themselves in the most embarrassing fashion. Vexation because she had her own grievances against him, the greatest of which had been the means of a somewhat contentious debate between them the last time they were together at the Netherfield ball, right there on the dance floor for everyone to see, perhaps even hear, how vehement her preference for George Wickham was.
As leery as Elizabeth was of Mr. Darcy’s return to Hertfordshire, she could not be too disturbed by his presence.
Surely his being here is a sign of his approval of Mr. Bingley’s courtship of my sister Jane.
If she were to judge by the looks that passed between the gentlemen, not only had Mr. Darcy given his friend permission to be happy, but he was silently encouraging his friend even as they stood there.
El
izabeth began to suspect that she had been wrong in blaming Mr. Darcy for Bingley’s defection. At the very least, she had not been entirely correct.
After all the usual civilities were exchanged and everyone was seated, Mrs. Bennet said, “There have been quite a few developments since you were last here, Mr. Bingley.” She nodded. “Miss Charlotte Lucas, for one, is recently engaged, I am sorry to say. She is to be married in less than a fortnight, I am told.”
Taken aback by the lady’s candor, Bingley cried, “I have been given to believe that engagements are a cause for joy.”
“Oh, indeed they are when they unfold naturally as opposed to the consequence of the conniving machination of the less deserving and the foolish obstinacy of a more deserving—nay more entitled, prospect.”
Elizabeth could feel her color rise and thus was compelled to say something for fear of her mother’s next words.
“My friend Charlotte is to be married to our cousin, Mr. William Collins.” She looked at Bingley. “You may recall having met him.”
“Yes, indeed. I recall he is your aunt’s vicar,” he said, looking at his friend. “Is that not correct, Darcy?”
Darcy nodded, thus confirming his friend’s declaration.
“Soon enough, my friend will be off to Kent, where she intends to be very contented,” said Elizabeth in the best imitation of a proud, supportive friend she could muster.
“Oh, of that I have very little doubt,” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Miss Lucas is nothing if not resourceful.”
“How is your family, sir?” Jane asked, continuing to conspire with her sister to steer the conversation away from Mr. Collins and Charlotte and what they had done.
“My sisters and my brother, Hurst, are getting along very well. They send their regrets that they were unable to join me—”
Mrs. Bennet said, “Your sisters’ absence is a loss indeed, but I see no reason why it should impede your happiness. Indeed, their loss is our gain for as I recall you are quite in my debt, Mr. Bingley. I seem to recall that when you went to town last month, you promised to take a family dinner with us as soon as you returned.
“I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back sooner and keep your engagement.”
Bingley looked a little silly at this reflection and said something of his concern at having been delayed for so long by business.
“Well, you are here now. I should not presume to ask you to join us this very evening, but I must prevail on you to join us here at Longbourn on the morrow for a gathering of family and good friends, and I will not take no for an answer. My brother and sister from town, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, are visiting us, and I am sure they are looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
“I shall be delighted to join you here at Longbourn, as will my friend Darcy, if I may speak for him.”
Darcy nodded his acceptance. “We shall be honored.”
Shortly after that, Mrs. Bennet contrived to leave Jane and Bingley alone in hopes that the most anticipated marriage proposal might be forthcoming, but she could not very well force their other guest to take his leave. Thus, she surrendered the task of diverting Mr. Darcy to her second eldest daughter. The lady and her three youngest hastily fled the room, leaving Jane and Bingley in one part and Elizabeth and Darcy in another.
For Elizabeth’s part, she was not sure what to expect of Bingley’s taciturn friend. Their last conversation had been riddled with contention. The last thing she wanted was to resume where they had left off.
Especially now, for it is the Christmas season—a time for goodwill toward all. Certainly the time of year which affords a license to hope for the best.
Chapter 8
Upon entering the parlor, Darcy found himself drawn to Elizabeth just as much as he had ever been. The time away from Hertfordshire had done nothing to diminish his secret admiration for her.
Of course, he had used the excuse of wanting to protect Elizabeth from George Wickham as his reason for accompanying his friend to Hertfordshire. He certainly wanted that.
But if he were to be honest, if to no one but himself, he would confess that part of his reasoning for agreeing to return with Bingley so easily as he had was to confirm that his admiration for the young woman had been nothing more than a passing fancy—that her bewitching effect upon his sensibilities had been fleeting. At seven and twenty, he was long past the point where he might suffer infatuation for a young woman. Lust? Indeed, for he was a healthy young man. Suffer it, he might, but it was not as though anything would become of it. He was a gentleman, and she was a gentleman’s daughter, but the disparity in their respective stations in life was not inconsequential.
Or so he had reminded himself so many times before. Sitting there next to her, he was no longer sure exactly what he was about. The last thing he meant to do was squander this chance to get better acquainted with her.
Given her unusual quietness, he sought to break the silence between them.
He cleared his throat. “I hope I am not speaking out of turn, and if I am, I pray you will forgive me for saying this, but it appears your mother is not the only one who is less than overjoyed with the news of Miss Lucas’ engagement.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “To know my cousin Mr. Collins is to understand my predicament very well.”
“Do you not approve of your relative?”
“The man is ridiculous,” Elizabeth exclaimed with excitement. Remembering herself, she said, “Pardon my bluntness, sir.”
“I am no stranger to hearing you speak your mind, Miss Elizabeth.” After a pause, he added, “It is but one of the things I admire most about you.”
For a moment, Elizabeth supposed there was a compliment in the gentleman’s speech. But how could it have been? When had Mr. Darcy ever gone out of his way to compliment her?
“I suppose you are correct in saying that. I also suppose what I ought to have said is my friend is too good for Mr. Collins, but then again, hearing myself speak the words out loud also seems rather uncharitable, and I always like to be fair when I can.”
“Do you not consider it to be a good match? I know for certain that the living in Hunsford is most advantageous. Your friend will be well provided for if that is what concerns you.”
“Mr. Darcy, if I did not know better I might think you are trying to put my mind at ease.”
“I would not wish to see you worrying about your friend’s future.”
“I suppose I ought to thank you for your consideration.”
“I am at your service, Miss Elizabeth.”
In a hushed tone, Elizabeth said, “I suspect I should also be thanking you for the joy that has returned to my sister’s face.”
“Pardon?”
“Your friend Mr. Bingley’s return…”
“I take no credit for that. Bingley insisted that being by your sister’s side this season was his greatest wish. I daresay nothing would have prevented his return once his mind was made up.”
“Sir, you always take such prodigious care of your friend. I daresay he would not be here if you had not sanctioned it. Whether you will accept credit for your part or not, I stand by my conviction and because of that, I am in your debt.”
“I confess, it is good to see my friend so happy.”
“I feel the same as regards Jane. Therefore, in keeping with the spirit of the season, if nothing else, you must allow me to express my deepest gratitude toward you for being the means of reuniting my sister and Mr. Bingley.”
Chapter 9
Mrs. Bennet had gone through such prodigious lengths to assure her houseguests, the Gardiners, did not spend a single night in want of diversion. Indeed, she had so carefully provided for the entertainment of her brother and sister that they did not once sit down to a family dinner.
That particular evening, several of the officers from the local militia, the Phillipses, and the Lucases were scattered about the main rooms of the manor house. Most importantly, Mr. Bingley and his friend Mr. Darc
y were also in attendance.
Donned in her gayest apparel, Mrs. Bennet had never been happier were one to judge by the ease with which she waltzed about the room intermingling among her guests.
Elizabeth was not sure if contrition or circumspect fueled the greater part of her behavior that evening. Contrition, because after what Mr. Darcy had done to reunite Jane and Bingley, the last thing she wanted was to be seen flaunting her friendship with the man who boldly professed to hating Mr. Darcy to anyone who would listen.
Though Mr. Darcy had subtly cautioned her to be wary of Mr. Wickham’s charms, never had he spoken of the latter with the degree of vehemence that might give her cause for concern.
Elizabeth’s busy mind drifted to another festive evening from not so long ago: the Netherfield ball. She recalled clearly the words Mr. Darcy had uttered and what her response had been:
“Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain.”
“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship, and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”
Those had been the last words—nay the only words the two of them had ever exchanged on the topic of Mr. Wickham.
Is there any wonder I have relied so heavily as I have on my belief in Wickham’s goodness? Mr. Darcy’s opinion of Mr. Wickham’s character was just that: his opinion.
Still, Elizabeth could no longer be wholly indifferent to Mr. Darcy’s view. Not anymore. Not since his return to Hertfordshire with his friend and during the Christmas season, when he might easily have discouraged Bingley had he wished it.
Until I have a better understanding of Mr. Darcy’s character, I think it is better that I do nothing that might garner his ire by cavorting with his enemy. Better I keep my distance from both of them this evening.
