by P. O. Dixon
So long as I do nothing that might raise Miss Elizabeth’s expectations, what is the harm in admiring her from afar?
Chapter 8
An obvious ploy
Though the events of the previous evening had thoroughly cemented Elizabeth’s opinion of the members of the Netherfield party—each of them in their turn, she felt it absolutely necessary to acknowledge the Bingleys’ benevolence towards Jane by accepting the invitation to dine with them in the breakfast room.
She now knew and understood the younger woman was nowhere nearly so delighted by her presence as was her brother, Mr. Bingley, which made being there all the more uncomfortable, albeit oddly satisfying. However, nothing could have prepared Elizabeth for what happened just as their party adjourned to the drawing room. A footman formally attired in livery more suited to a king’s servant entered the room.
“A Miss Phoebe Phillips,” he declared. Seconds later, Elizabeth’s cousin waltzed into the room, adorned in a light blue muslin gown, a dark blue spencer, and a lovely bonnet which Elizabeth knew to be recently purchased.
“Phoebe, what on earth are you doing here?” Elizabeth could not help but exclaim.
“My question exactly!” Miss Bingley uttered.
After acknowledging each of the occupants of the room with a slight curtsy, and no doubt disappointed by Mr. Darcy’s absence, Phoebe said, “Why, Cousin Lizzy, you know how fond I am of my dear, dear cousin Jane. Why, I simply could not sleep a wink until I saw firsthand how she is getting along. One can never take anything for granted where these things are concerned. Even a trifling cold has the possibility of taking a turn for the worse.”
“How fortunate Miss Bennet is indeed to have such thoughtful relations,” declared the older Bingley sister.
“Thoughtful indeed, and for my part, any relation of Miss Bennet’s is welcome in my home,” said Mr. Bingley, smiling in abundance.
“One might be careful what one wishes for, dear brother,” said Miss Bingley, throwing her sister a knowing look.
“For now, I wish for nothing more than Miss Bennet’s complete recovery, which is sure to transpire in the company of caring relations and friends alike.”
The Bingleys carried on in that manner for a while, and when she could, Phoebe took her cousin aside. “I suppose you think you are very clever, Miss Lizzy.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“You know very well what I mean.”
“No—I am afraid I do not, but I am sure that will not prevent you from telling me.”
“You may pretend to be ignorant, but I for one am not fooled. I know your mother contrived to have Jane thrown into Mr. Bingley’s path because she boasted of having done so to my mother.”
“And what can any of that have to do with me?”
“It is one thing for your mother to behave as she did, for it is very much in keeping with the rules of the game, but for you to throw yourself into Mr. Darcy’s path in such an egregious manner is beyond the pale. You know you are not playing fairly. I claimed Mr. Darcy!”
Somewhat aggrieved, Elizabeth said, “You do know that you are the only one of the four of us who gives a fig about your twelve-month matrimonial challenge, do you not?”
“What else would one expect you to say, given your flagrant disregard for my feelings?”
“Phoebe, this is neither the time nor the place to be entertaining such a discussion. My sister is very ill. I am here for one purpose, and that is to be by her side. Now, either you came all this way to see her or you simply used my sister’s illness as a ploy to be near your Mr. Darcy. If the first, then I am more than happy to accompany you to Jane’s room. If the latter, then I shall leave you to your own devices in garnering his attention. At this point, either of your choices can have no effect on me.”
Upon observing a young lady entering the library, Darcy closed his book and stood, intending to quit the room. To his chagrin, the young lady hurried in his direction and stopped directly before him. She stood closer than the extent of their acquaintance warranted, prompting Darcy to ease a step back.
“Do you not remember meeting me, Mr. Darcy?”
The young lady was comely enough for Darcy to recall having seen her before, but not enough for him to recall with any specificity where that might have taken place.
“To be frank, I have been introduced to countless young ladies such as yourself since my arrival here in Hertfordshire. Perhaps you might do me the honor of refreshing my memory.”
Phoebe held out her hand. “I am Miss Phillips—Miss Phoebe Phillips.”
Mr. Darcy accepted the young lady’s proffered hand, bowed slightly, and released it promptly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It was the polite thing to say after all. He had no desire to be rude to one of his friend’s guests. On the other hand, he did not mean to encourage her either. Engaging the affections of young ladies of lesser means was just the kind of thing he avoided doing.
The irony was not lost on Darcy what with his resolve to admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet in secret. He simply could not help himself for the beguiling young woman was unlike any woman he had ever met, with her amazing eyes and her charming wit.
This young lady is no Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
His purpose in being in the library was the possibility that she might wander in during the course of the morning.
“The pleasure is entirely mine, I assure you,” Darcy heard the young lady standing before him reply in a coquettish manner.
As though realizing the perils of spending time alone in the library with the young lady suddenly dawned on him, Darcy said, “Miss Phillips, pray you will excuse me. I have urgent business to attend elsewhere.”
Phoebe pouted a little. “Oh, but I only just arrived. What is more, it is as though fate conspired to place the two of us in each other’s path.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You see, sir, I am in need of your assistance in locating a book to read to my cousin Jane, and well, I thought you might help me find the perfect one.”
“Your cousin? So, you are Miss Elizabeth’s cousin.”
Batting her eyelashes, Phoebe nodded. “I am. Has she mentioned me to you?”
He shrugged. His countenance a bit puzzled, he said, “No. I am afraid she has not.”
“Oh! And I was so sure that she would have in view of the circumstances.”
“Circumstances? What circumstances, Miss Phillips?”
Phoebe nearly gasped. “Oh! Do not mind all that, sir. There will be time enough for such matters at a later date and perhaps a different place. For now, I really must beg for your assistance in locating the perfect book for dear Jane.”
Darcy had too much experience with young ladies of Miss Phillips’ ilk to be affected by such an obvious ploy. “As you know your cousin Miss Bennet far better than I might ever expect to know her, I must insist you pardon me, for I am certain I would only impede your success.”
“I rather disagree. In fact, I have a fair knowledge of the books in this library, having visited Netherfield on more than one occasion before it was let by your friend Mr. Bingley. I believe the perfect book is just over there.” Phoebe walked swiftly to the stacks and scurried up the ladder. Her boldness seemed to ebb when she reached one of its higher rungs.
“Oh! Mr. Darcy,” she cried. “I do not know what has come over me. Why—I completely forgot I am deathly afraid of heights.”
“Stay where you are,” Darcy declared before proceeding to walk across the room in the opposite direction.
Seeing this, Phoebe exclaimed. “Sir, I need your help. Pray, where are you going?”
“To summon a footman, of course.” After doing just that, Darcy said, “There, help is on the way.” He bowed. “Good day, Miss Phillips.”
Darcy was gone directly.
Chapter 9
Such a Pleasing Manner
Feeling somewhat put upon, Elizabeth was not sure which vexed her more: her cousin Phoebe’s imperti
nent visit or Elizabeth’s mother and sisters’ visit the very next day.
All Elizabeth knew was her sister Jane had recovered enough for the two of them to soon be taking their leave of Netherfield. She could hardly wait.
Making matters worse, she had been prevailed upon by her mother’s antics to stand up for Mr. Darcy time and again throughout her visit.
In so doing, Elizabeth had inadvertently led Miss Bingley to view her as a rival for Mr. Darcy’s attention - an unenviable position indeed considering how Elizabeth felt about the couple and their games of cat and mouse. He had frequently engaged Elizabeth in conversation for the better part of the evening to Miss Bingley’s exclusion as well as her dismay. Elizabeth did not like being used in such a manner, and she meant to tell the gentleman how she felt as soon as she had a chance.
The day after Mrs. Bennet’s visit proceeded in much the same way as the day before; Mr. Darcy’s attention toward Elizabeth did not abate.
After a half hour or so of being chased around the room by Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy decided to apply to the overzealous young lady and Elizabeth for an indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with some alacrity to the pianoforte. After a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way, which Elizabeth politely declined, she seated herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth could not help observing, as she turned over some music books that lay on the instrument, how frequently Mr. Darcy’s eyes were fixed on her. After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air, and soon enough Mr. Darcy drew near Elizabeth.
“Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”
She smiled but made no answer.
As though surprised by her silence, Mr. Darcy repeated the question. “Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”
“Oh!” said she, “I heard you before, but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say ‘Yes,’ that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kinds of schemes and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all. Now despise me if you dare.”
“Indeed, I do not dare.”
The two of them bantered on in this fashion for a time, and its effect on Miss Bingley’s performance was undeniable. Abandoning the pianoforte altogether, the young lady hastened to place herself directly between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth. Welcoming the reprieve, Elizabeth escaped their little group as soon as she could and returned to the solitude of her book. Finding herself between Mr. Darcy and his most ardent admirer, Miss Bingley, was the last thing in the world Elizabeth wished for. Still, she could not help but be entertained by the prospect of Mr. Darcy’s anguish. That was until Mr. Darcy managed once again to draw Elizabeth back into the heart of their discussion.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “takes an eager interest in reading. I have always considered the constant improvement of one’s mind by extensive reading to be the hallmark of an accomplished woman.”
Elizabeth wanted to say something—anything to dissuade such a speech, but before she could fashion a fitting response, Miss Bingley cried, “Oh! Reading no doubt has its place, but a truly accomplished woman must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions. Otherwise, the word will be but half-deserved. And one must not neglect the importance of physical beauty, else the more discerning among us might find an otherwise accomplished woman to be merely tolerable.”
“I am given to believe that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.”
“You would say that,” said Miss Bingley in a manner which suggested his remark held a broader context known only between the two of them.
How Elizabeth wished both of them would just go away and leave her to her book.
At length, a servant entered the room and handed Miss Bingley a note. Upon reading it, the young woman quit the room in quite a rush. Elizabeth seized the chance to speak to Mr. Darcy with impunity.
“Miss Bingley has left the room, sir.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“She is gone now. You no longer need to behave as though I am of any consequence. Your earlier pretense worked.”
“Is that how you see me, Miss Elizabeth? As one who would make sport of one young lady merely to disappoint the hopes of another?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I do not know that I would have stated it so delicately as that, but as the words are your own—”
“Forgive me.”
Taken aback by his unexpected declaration, Elizabeth cried, “Pardon me?”
“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, if I gave you cause to think my desire to get to know you better was merely a ploy to frustrate Miss Bingley.”
“Then, you do not deny that was your intention?”
“I do not deny that frustrating Miss Bingley is not without its own rewards,” Mr. Darcy responded, moving closer to Elizabeth, as close to her as he had ever been throughout the entirety of their acquaintance.
How she bewitched him. Gazing into her dark eyes, he added, “However, in spending the greater part of the evening in such a pleasing manner as I did, I believe I was thinking only of you.”
Chapter 10
The Best Parts of Beauty
Other than the addition of a rather unwelcome guest at Longbourn, a distant cousin and the estate’s heir apparent, Mr. William Collins, the days that marked the Bennet sisters’ return from Netherfield had been rather uneventful.
Save the middle Bennet daughter, Miss Mary, a most welcome surprise awaited the Bennet girls and their cousin Phoebe that particular day in Meryton when their attention was caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentleman-like appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. One was an officer—a Mr. Denny, a favorite of the youngest girls, Kitty and Lydia, who had recently returned from London. He bowed as they passed.
All were struck with the stranger’s air, and all wondered who he could be. Determined to find out, Kitty and Lydia led the way across the street, under the pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop. Soon enough, all the young ladies in the party stood face to face with the two gentlemen. Mr. Denny addressed them directly and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps.
In the younger sisters’ estimation, this was exactly as it should be, for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favor. He had all the best parts of beauty: a fine countenance, a good figure, and a very pleasing address.
The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming, and the whole party was still standing and talking together very agreeably when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.
On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the primary object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn with the purpose of inquiring after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated his friend’s declaration with a bow, and then his eyes were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger.
Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed color, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return.
What could be the meaning of it? It was impossible to imagine. In another minute, Mr. Bingley, without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave
and rode on with his friend.
Seemingly undaunted by Mr. Darcy’s puzzling behavior, Phoebe’s spirits were lively, although the gentleman had done nothing to stoke her affections. And when the ladies were parted from the pleasant company of Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham, she pulled Elizabeth away from all the other members of their party.
“Cousin Lizzy,” Phoebe said, “is not Mr. Wickham almost everything the ideal husband ought to be?” She clasped her hand to her bosom. “He is tall. He is amiable, and best of all, he is exceedingly handsome.”
“Phoebe, do you mean to say after one look at Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy has now somehow diminished in your esteem? How fickle you are!”
“Oh, no! You mistake my meaning. I am not suggesting Mr. Wickham is ideal for me. I believe he is the perfect husband for you!”
Elizabeth would have been lying if she said Mr. Wickham was not a handsome gentleman. Indeed, he was blessed with all that was pleasing to a lady’s eye: impeccable dress, perfect hair, smoldering eyes, and a charismatic smile. She dared not encourage her cousin’s whims, and thus she said nothing.
Elizabeth’s silence, Phoebe must have considered acquiescence. She said, “Oh, I knew you would agree with me. Is this not divine? Now if only there were a man for our dear Charlotte.” After a brief pause to gather her thoughts, she said, “I have a brilliant idea! I know your cousin, Mr. Collins, is intended for one or the other of either you, Jane, Mary, Kitty, or Lydia, but as you are now safe from him, perhaps we might save your sisters too by throwing him in Charlotte’s path.”
