The Bell

by Mary Lydon Simonsen

  “I have the pleasure—no the great pleasure—of introducing Mr. Charles Bingley of Scarborough and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire.” Thus cued, the two gentlemen entered the room, and when they did so, the room went completely silent.

  “Oh no!” Charlotte whispered. “Papa has got it wrong. He called that gentleman Mr. Darcy, but that is not Mr. Darcy.”

  Mr. Bingley stepped forward to thank all those who had gathered to welcome him to their neighborhood and said that he hoped that his friend, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, would be as warmly received as he had been.

  Silence was replaced by a hum as everyone whispered about the transformed Mr. Darcy. Was he not supposed to be elderly, past his prime, one foot in the grave? Was the Mr. Darcy who had seen coming out of the inn a relation, perhaps his father or an uncle? How could anyone mistake the handsome gentleman standing before them with the old fogey who had lodged at the White Hart?

  The thrum ceased when Mr. Darcy came forward and provided an explanation for his being mistaken for his steward. “I understand the confusion, but I think you will like me if you get to know me. I already know that you like Mr. Bingley, and he is my friend, so there is my character reference.” When the crowd laughed loudly, Darcy thought, “Georgiana would be proud of me.”

  Lizzy, Jane, and Charlotte immediately huddled in an effort to digest what they had just learned. The three ladies emerged with a consensus: Mr. Darcy was every bit as handsome as Mr. Bingley.

  “Am I still to marry Mr. Collins?” Charlotte whispered to Lizzy.

  “The Bennet family would certainly be grateful if you did, but now that we know that Mr. Darcy is not an old, unattractive man—”

  “He is definitely not unattractive,” Charlotte purred.

  “I guess we shall have to leave it to Mr. Darcy to decide on the condition that he chooses one of us!” The two friends broke into a fit of giggles.

  The introductions were followed by instructions as to how the evening would proceed. In order for the guests of honor to meet as many people as possible, a bell would sound, announcing a new “set,” at which time, the names of those who were to go to the card tables would be announced. All others were free to dance, circulate amongst their neighbors, or enjoy the punch, cheese, and fruit until the next set.

  Before the start of the first set, Mrs. Darlington explained that in its original inception, the gathering had been viewed as somewhat informal, and as such, everyone should feel free to introduce themselves to those previously unknown to them. When her words were met with disapproving looks from the matrons, Mrs. Darlington countered, “No one has ever died from a dose of informality. We are all neighbors. Now, let us make our guests welcome.”

  Mrs. Darlington began the festivities by ringing the bell that would direct the evening, and the cacophonous sound that emanated from the small bronze object startled all who were not yet deaf. With the metallic sound ringing in his ears, Sir William revealed the names of those who would be playing cards. It was no surprise when it was announced that Jane would be Mr. Bingley’s partner for the first set, and Mary King would be Mr. Darcy’s partner.

  “There you have your proof, Charlotte,” Lizzy said in a whisper. “Mary King is second in beauty only to Jane. But it is for the best that I am not sitting across from Mr. Darcy. In this way, I can admire the gentleman from afar.”

  “He is very handsome,” Charlotte said softly. “Such broad shoulders, such thick, dark, hair…”

  “…such fine legs.”

  The ladies’ itemization of Mr. Darcy’s attributes ceased when Sir William indicated that his own daughter, Charlotte Lucas, would exhibit on the pianoforte. This announcement came as a surprise, not only to Charlotte, but to Lizzy as well as her friend had no particular talent on that instrument and had never made any claim to being anything other than technically competent. Unfortunately, no one had thought to consult her before announcing to the room that she would exhibit.

  “Oh Lizzy, do rescue me! I have no wish to be humiliated in front of everyone in the room.”

  “Of course,” Lizzy said, squeezing Charlotte’s hand. “You shall turn the music sheets for me while I play.”

  After performing an Irish air arranged by Haydn, Lizzy looked about to see if there was another lady who wished to exhibit, but it appeared that the pianoforte was too far from the card tables where Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley sat, and so with no one to take her place at the piano bench, she chose another selection.

  Shortly after Lizzy had finished the second piece, the bell rang out its discordant sound, and Sir William revealed the names of those who would have the privilege of playing cards with the honored guest. Priscilla Morris was to be Mr. Bingley’s partner.

  Lizzy had no time to begin a discussion as to why Priscilla had been chosen. Instead, her eyes were drawn to her mother who was making haste to the card table where Jane and Bingley sat. With her hand on Jane’s shoulder, pinning her daughter in her chair, she said, for all to hear, that it was obvious Mr. Bingley preferred to keep his current partner, and as guest of honor, that was his prerogative.

  Before Jane could protest, the gentleman, in a voice that sounded like a sigh, indicated that that was his preference as well. Jane, who had freed herself from her mother’s grasp, retook her seat, and Priscilla Morris, who was to have been Mr. Bingley’s partner, must find something else to do.

  With the matter of Bingley’s partner now settled, Darcy stood up and declared that it was his intention to “mingle” as he wished to meet as many people as possible before the end of the evening, and with that, he walked in the direction of Lizzy, Charlotte, and the pianoforte.

  “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lizzy said. “That is, I did not know who you were before this evening, but now I do. What I actually mean is that we all thought you were…that you were…someone else.” Lizzy took a step closer to Charlotte and muttered, “Help me!” under her breath.

  “Mr. Darcy, I am Charlotte Lucas, the daughter of Sir William Lucas, the Master of Ceremonies, and this is my dear friend, Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.”

  Although the lady was clearly unsettled by his approach, Darcy was delighted. While playing cards during the first set, he had watched Miss Elizabeth as she played and had immediately recognized her talent and grace, but it was not until he stood before her that he saw how truly lovely she was, a beauty enhanced by her dark eyes that reflected the candlelight.

  “Your playing, Miss Elizabeth, was quite enchanting.”

  Lizzy found herself blushing and wondered why. Although she was by no means an expert on the instrument, in the past, she had received many compliments about her expressive renditions of popular pieces. Such compliments had never before prompted such a response.

  “Forgive my friend’s silence. Elizabeth is modest about her talents,” Charlotte said. “And please excuse me as I have spotted an old friend whom I have not seen in many months.”

  Lizzy recognized an excuse when she heard one and understood that Charlotte was deliberately leaving them alone so that they might converse, but it was as if her tongue were tied in a knot. She could not speak.

  “The arrangements for the evening are definitely unique, especially with the addition of the bell,” Darcy said as a way to begin the conversation.

  Lizzy explained the origin of the bell. It had been used by a ship’s cook to summon the officers to their meals, which was why its sound was so piercing even in so large a room.

  “I imagine the officers never missed a meal,” Darcy said.

  “No doubt,” Lizzy said, smiling. “As to the unique arrangements, the original concept was for an intimate affair with no more than twenty people on the guest list. But when word got out that Netherfield Park might be let, our hostess was besieged by supplicants, begging for an invitation.” Lizzy chuckled before continuing. “You see, Mr. Darcy, it was the most exciting news we have had in Meryton s
ince John Lucas, Charlotte’s brother, went to London to apprentice to an apothecary. That is what passes for news in our little hamlet.”

  “I shall share a secret with you,” Darcy said, leaning in Lizzy’s direction. “On the morrow, you will have news that Mr. Bingley has signed the lease. He will be your neighbor for at least a year and possibly two.”

  “Oh, that is good news!” Lizzy explained that Netherfield Park had once been the scene of balls and concerts. It had been a great loss for the neighborhood for it to have gone silent. “In fact, my sister Jane and I came out into society at a ball hosted by the Crenshaws, the owners of Netherfield Park.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was seventeen and Jane a year older.”

  “Did you wear your hair up or down?”

  Noting her confusion at a man asking such a question, Darcy explained that his sister was to make her debut in April, and such topics were coming up with distressing frequency.

  Darcy admitted to being surprised by all the decisions required of a young lady coming into society, especially as Georgiana was to be presented to the Queen by their aunt. “Hoops and white feathers and ribbons and bows. In my mind, it is quite the to-do for something that lasts only a few minutes, but my sister is quite excited about it.”

  “Of course, your sister is excited,” Lizzy said with heightened interest at the novelty of knowing someone whose relation would meet the wife of the king. “When I was presented to the Queen…”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow, and numerous questions about the lady’s presentation flooded his brain, one of which was, who had sponsored Miss Elizabeth.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a soft laugh. “I am being impertinent. I have never been to St. James’s, but if I had, I, too, would have been very excited—feathers and all.”

  “I see. You were teasing me.” Darcy now had proof that he was too serious. If he could not recognize a jest when he heard one, it was a warning sign that he was in danger of losing his sense of humor.

  As Darcy shared tales of visiting warehouses with his sister and a woman who had been hired for just that purpose, Lizzy was thinking what a pleasant man Mr. Darcy was. It was then that Mary King approached.

  “And what are you two talking about, so deep in conversation?”

  Lizzy looked to Mr. Darcy, and when he did not respond, she answered for both. “Apothecaries. We were speaking of apothecaries.”

  “Why on earth would you be talking about such a subject?” Miss King asked.

  “Because John Lucas has gone to London to start an apprenticeship.”

  Darcy then declared that although he admired the skills of an apothecary, he knew very little of their training. “All those plasters and poultices.”

  “And powders. Do not forget the powders, Mr. Darcy,” Lizzy added.

  “Yes, one must not forget the powders. Very beneficial. Miss Elizabeth and I agree that the healing arts are appreciated but little understood.”

  Mary King’s response was a dismissive laugh and a tap on Mr. Darcy’s sleeve with her fan. “Please allow me to rescue you from such a dull conversation, Mr. Darcy.” Slipping her arm into his, she led the gentleman away.

  Although disappointed that Mr. Darcy had been swept away, Mary’s interference made little difference as the sound of the bell signaled the start of the next set.

  * * *

  As soon as Mary King and Mr. Darcy made their exit, Charlotte appeared at Lizzy’s side, and Lizzy showed no embarrassment in asking her friend all she had learned about the gentleman from Derbyshire.

  According to Charlotte’s sources, Mr. Darcy was from a very old Derbyshire family and the grandson of the Earl of Stepton, whose ancestral home was in Kent. The gentleman owned a great estate in Derbyshire near the village of Lambton and a house in town. It was rumored that he was amongst the wealthiest men in England and one of the most sought-after bachelors in the realm.

  Lizzy made a face as this was not good news. If Mr. Darcy had been moderately wealthy and less handsome, he might have shown an interest in her. But to be the ultimate prize of every lady in society! That was too high a hill to climb.

  “Well, there goes my marriage to Mr. Darcy,” Lizzy said with a sigh. “He would have no interest in someone who is as poor as a church mouse. Besides, he is too young for me.”

  “Too young!” Charlotte exclaimed. “He must be very nearly thirty years of age.”

  “But my expectation was that he was very nearly seventy, and now that I know he is only in his late twenties, he is practically a minor.” Noting Charlotte’s wrinkled brow, she continued. “It is no use, Charlotte. It is too late to change my thinking on the matter as I was determined to marry a mature gentleman and not a novice.”

  “Lizzy…”

  Lizzy laughed to let her friend know that she was teasing her. “In all seriousness, Charlotte, how could all of us have got it so wrong?”

  “I shall tell you as I eavesdropped on a conversation amongst Mr. Morris, my father, and your father. It appears that Mr. Morris knew about the real Mr. Darcy from the very beginning but did not wish to say anything because he was afraid that Mrs. Morris, who is—”

  “…the town crier...”

  “That Mrs. Morris would tell everyone that someone was taking a serious look at Netherfield Park. Mr. Flitter—that is the name of Mr. Darcy’s agent—said that if word got out about Mr. Bingley’s interest that it might result in that gentleman looking elsewhere, and if that happened, Mr. Morris’s commission went out the window.”

  “So, to summarize. We thought Mr. Flitter was Mr. Darcy, but he was actually Mr. Darcy’s agent acting on behalf of Mr. Darcy who was acting on behalf of Mr. Bingley. Did I get that right?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Lizzy viewed the whole episode as a comedy worthy of Shakespeare.

  “Mr. Darcy seems very interested in you, Lizzy,” Charlotte said, reminding her friend that after the gentleman declined to play a second set of cards, he had made straightaway for her.

  Lizzy had noticed the same thing but had come to a different conclusion as to motive. “I suspect Mr. Darcy is ill at ease in a crowd and is more comfortable on the periphery. The pianoforte was placed at the far end of the ballroom in an area reserved for dancing, and this is where he found me.”

  Charlotte disagreed. “I think his actions were planned. As soon as the bell was rung, he headed in your direction, looking neither left nor right.”

  “I believe you, but Mr. Darcy probably wanted to get away from Mrs. Darlington and her bell.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Darlington who pleaded with Lizzy to return to the pianoforte as no other lady would do so.

  “I am sure my sister Mary would be happy to play,” Lizzy said. “She enjoys exhibiting.”

  Mrs. Darlington shook her head. “I asked Mary, but she declined.”

  “Mary? Decline! But she always wishes to exhibit.” In fact, Mary’s desire to play in public was a source of anxiety for the family. Although her fingering was competent, her singing was cringe-worthy. Despite a total lack of talent in that area, it never stopped her from warbling.

  The lady directed Lizzy’s attention to a certain gentleman who was then engaged in conversation with Mary Bennet. Mr. Plimdale had come to Netherfield Park with Mary King’s uncle in a party of five. The gentleman speaking to Priscilla Morris was amongst the same party.

  Lizzy looked at her sister, and Mary, in conversing with the gentleman from Liverpool, was as animated as she had ever seen her. She would not interfere in such a scene.

  “No one will agree to play,” Mrs. Darlington complained, “and I had the instrument tuned yesterday just for this occasion.”

  “I do not understand,” a confused Lizzy said. “There is never a shortage of ladies wishing to exhibit.”

  According to the hostess, the explanation for the dearth of exhibitors was simple: “Because the pianoforte is so far from our guests of honor, the ladies
are afraid they will miss out on something.” Mrs. Darlington emitted a long sigh. “Nothing has gone according to plan. I ring the bell, Sir William gives instructions, and everyone ignores them. And I place a good deal of the blame on your sister,” Mrs. Darlington said, glancing over her shoulder at Jane, who was enjoying a conversation with Mr. Bingley. “As it seems Mr. Bingley will not leave Jane’s side, all attention is now directed at Mr. Darcy, and the ladies are all closing in on the gentleman like vultures on carrion. I fear the man will retire to escape the horde.”

  Mr. Darcy’s predicament was on display in the middle of the ballroom where the gentleman was hemmed in on all sides by what appeared to be a herd of heifers. Mr. Darcy, who towered over his female admirers, looked extremely discomfited. But there was also something humorous in the scene. As each lady asked a question, Mr. Bingley’s friend pivoted until he had actually completed a full circle in an attempt to satisfy their curiosity.

  A Mr. Darcy under siege was not their hostess’s only problem. If Lizzy did not play, there would be no dancing. Two of those complaining the loudest were Lydia and Kitty. To relieve Mrs. Darlington’s distress, Lizzy agreed to return to the pianoforte.

  As soon as Mrs. Darlington was out of earshot, Charlotte declared how unfair their hostess’s request was. “If you do not protest, Lizzy, Mrs. Darlington will have you at the pianoforte all night.”

  Lizzy had been thinking the same thing but was resigned to her fate. “Do not concern yourself on my account, Charlotte. I do not mind. I really do not. There is so much pleasure in observing how people behave under such unique circumstances. The person I feel sorry for is Mr. Darcy. He is completely surrounded by a gaggle of girls with every avenue of escape closed to him.”