by P. O. Dixon
“I say you ought to keep an open mind and give both gentlemen an equal share of benefit as well as doubt.”
Elizabeth said, “And I say this conversation is much too consequential after the morning I have suffered. I would much rather talk about you and your Mr. Bingley. I do not mind confessing that I spent a fair amount of time admiring the two of you at the ball. I think he loves you very much. As much as I do not wish to sound like Mama, especially after the horrendous spectacle she made of herself in front of Mr. Darcy at supper, I do believe she may be on to something.”
“What did Mama do?”
“Oh! Other than alienate the gentleman, perhaps forever, she did nothing for you to worry about. So long as Mr. Bingley is in love with you, that is to say. And I am convinced he is.”
“Dearest, Lizzy, I pray what you are saying is true. I am beginning to depend on it.”
“Mrs. Jane Bingley née Bennet. This must certainly meet with Phoebe’s approval. One of the four of us is soon to be married with at least ten months for the rest of us to follow suit.”
“Lizzy, if I have said it once, I have said it a hundred times… you are incorrigible.”
Chapter 15
sufficient encouragement
Two days had passed, and yet Elizabeth had neither seen nor heard from her cousin Phoebe. In Elizabeth’s busy mind that could mean but one thing.
Cousin Phoebe is still very vexed because of what happened at the Netherfield ball.
This odd behavior on her cousin’s part was causing Elizabeth to suspect that Phoebe really did fancy Mr. Darcy after all.
What a shame if such were indeed the case, Elizabeth thought to herself, having since learned from Mr. Wickham that Mr. Darcy was intended for his cousin, a Miss Anne de Bourgh: the only child of the gentleman’s noble aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
She shrugged. Even if he were not engaged, Elizabeth doubted Phoebe stood a chance of garnering Mr. Darcy’s favor. Not that she dared confess her opinion on the matter to her cousin, for she knew her relation well enough to know there would have been no point.
If Mr. Darcy’s behavior has not been enough to teach Phoebe of her own insignificance in his eyes, certainly nothing I might do or say will convince her. Phoebe is young and fanciful, and as an only child, she is spoiled and used to having her way. I truly believe she will finally see the truth for herself once she believes it and not a moment before.
A disquiet soon took over the halls of Longbourn and sent Jane racing past Elizabeth, ignoring all entreaties to explain what had unfolded, up the stairs, and into her room.
Elizabeth immediately set off behind her sister. Pushing the door open, Elizabeth espied Jane sitting by the window, staring blankly outside, and clutching a letter in her hand.
Jane, having no desire to keep her dearest sister in further suspense, handed the letter over. “It is from Caroline Bingley, written in part on behalf of her brother.”
Elizabeth accepted it at once. Before she could open it, Jane said, “What it contains has surprised me a good deal, for by now the entire party has left Netherfield and with no intention of coming back again.”
In heightened dismay, Elizabeth began reading the letter in silence, not wishing to subject her sister to any further pain in having to hear the words aloud:
“When my brother left us, he imagined that the business which took him to London might be concluded in three or four days. But as we are certain it cannot be so, and at the same time convinced that when Charles gets to town, he will be in no hurry to leave it again, we have determined on following him thither, that he may not be obliged to spend his vacant hours in a comfortless hotel. Many of my acquaintances are already there for the winter; I wish that I could hear that you, my dearest friend, had any intention of making one of the crowd—but of that, I despair. I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of those of whom we shall deprive you.”
Here, Elizabeth scoffed. She never did care for Miss Bingley, and now she cared for the lady even less.
Jane said, “You may as well read what she says aloud.”
“Are you certain, Jane?”
Jane nodded, encouraging Elizabeth to read aloud:
“Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject, but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable.”
Here, Elizabeth paused. “Jane, surely you do not believe a word of this.”
Jane merely shrugged, which was sufficient encouragement for Elizabeth to read on.
“My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own, and a sister’s partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman’s heart. With all these circumstances to favor an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?”
Mrs. Bennet’s appalling behavior immediately sprang to mind. Could Mr. Darcy be complicit in any of this? Was he just as anxious to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane as was Caroline Bingley?
A part of her desperately hoped such was not the case. That part of her that had decided to allow him the benefit of the doubt.
Convinced mainly that this was Caroline’s doing and Caroline’s alone, Elizabeth folded the letter and said, “I believe you ought to go to town as well. I am certain our uncle and aunt Gardiner will be delighted to have you. Once you are there, you must do all in your power to let Mr. Bingley know you are in London. Only then will you be in the position to expose his sister’s lies and half-truths for what they are.”
Jane shook her head. “I should never willingly pursue the affections of a gentleman who does not truly care for me. What would be the point?”
“Bingley does care for you. You know he does, and his sister knows it too, which is precisely the reason she means to separate you two. Come, we shall speak with Papa and Mama about your going to London. They will no doubt encourage the scheme, and then we shall write the necessary letters.”
Later that same day, Elizabeth’s friend Charlotte sought out a private conference wishing to share happy news of her own. By Elizabeth’s expression, however, the intelligence was met with anything but pleasure.
Elizabeth colored. She stared, and when she finally found her voice in the wake of her friend’s profession, she cried, “Can this day get any worse?”
Taken aback, Charlotte said, “That is not very charitable of you. I knew you would be surprised by what I have come to say—perhaps even a little disappointed, but I did not expect you to be uncivil.”
“Oh, Charlotte, pray you will forgive me. I did not mean to give offense—truly, I did not. Of course, I am surprised, but I know you are acting according to your own best interest. I will not judge you too severely as a result.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her shoulders.
“When I complained about today getting worse, I was referring to the Netherfield party’s precipitous exodus to London and more specifically a letter that Miss Bingley wrote to Jane, purportedly on Mr. Bingley’s behalf, which stated his intention not to return to this part of the country in the foreseeable future.
“Oh, Charlotte! You can surely comprehend the depths of poor Jane’s heartbreak.”
“Oh, my!” Charlotte cried, nodding in agreement.
“Jane’s heartbreak aside,” Elizabeth continued, “My mama is nearl
y inconsolable to have lost not one but two prospective sons-in-law in under a week. She blames Jane for not doing enough to make Mr. Bingley fall in love with her, but not nearly so much as she blames me for—well surely you know what transpired between Mr. Collins and me.”
She reached out her hand to her friend. “Again, I do not bear any ill will toward you for accepting him, but the news of your engagement will surely drive Mama to distraction.”
“Undoubtedly,” Charlotte said. “And if I have any regrets at all about how my own future felicity came to be, the implications for your mother’s peace of mine are at the center of it all.”
Charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted.
She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte as the wife of Mr. Collins was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.
The predicament Elizabeth now found herself in did not sit well with her temperament at all, and thus she chose to consider things in a more satisfying light.
For every disadvantage inherent in the events of the last day there must certainly be an advantage. This thought gave Elizabeth a bit of comfort, for if Phoebe was really more fascinated with her marital scheme than she was infatuated with Mr. Darcy, then any displeasure that would arise as a result of his abrupt leave-taking would surely be offset by the pleasure of Charlotte’s pending nuptials.
Chapter 16
Truth be told
London, England - Mayfair
Miss Georgiana Darcy, a young girl of sixteen, found it ironic indeed that she had her own establishment and yet the young woman who might one day be her sister, if the two ladies had their way, was much older than she, but enjoyed no such arrangement.
I suppose I must credit my good fortune in that regard to the vast disparity in our respective brothers’ wealth.
After handing her guest a freshly poured cup of tea, Georgiana said, “Dearest Miss Bingley, pray tell me how does your brother, Mr. Bingley, get along?”
“Oh, Miss Darcy, as our mutual goal is one day to enjoy the privilege of calling ourselves sisters, is it not time we cease with the formalities and address each other by our given names? Please call me Caroline.”
Being of the same mind as her friend, the younger woman smiled. “Very well, and according to the usual way of doing these things, pray call me Georgiana.”
“Delightful.” Miss Bingley took a sip from her dainty cup. At length, she said, “You know I do not wish to speak out of turn, but have you given any consideration at all to my suggestion that you speak with your brother, Mr. Darcy, about your giving up this establishment and residing with him here in town. My brother Charles is frequently at Darcy House, and you two would always be crossing each other’s path.”
Georgiana knew that her guest had a secondary, if not primary, motive for her advice, for Miss Bingley called on her nearly every day—her eyes always searching, and her ears always perched for some sign of Fitzwilliam’s presence. She knew better than anyone that Miss Bingley was far more interested in becoming her future sister by way of an alliance between her brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and herself than she was interested in such an alliance between Georgiana and Mr. Bingley.
Truth be told, Georgiana was not sure how much she liked the idea of an alliance between her brother and Miss Bingley.
There is something about Miss Bingley—rather Caroline, that simply does not ring true, and I am starting to suspect she would not make my brother very happy. She arched her brow in silent contemplation.
A part of me suspects she is more interested in being the next mistress of Pemberley more so than anything else.
Not that it mattered to Georgiana. Her brother had not remained a single man for seven and twenty years by accident.
I know that he is extraordinarily fastidious and will not be easily persuaded by the likes of a mercenary female. I shall have no reason to concern myself in that regard.
Georgiana’s real opinion of Miss Bingley as the next mistress of Pemberley aside, she knew in her heart that she would one day refer to the other young woman as a sister. Indeed, she also knew she owed Miss Bingley a great debt for having prevented Charles Bingley from making a grave mistake while they were all in Hertfordshire last autumn.
Charles Bingley, being the charming gentleman that he was, had apparently given one of the local young ladies the impression that he was in love with her. Had it not been for her brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley might well have found himself ensnared in a most disadvantageous alliance with the young woman who, according to Miss Bingley’s accounting, was on the verge of spinsterhood, owing to the cunning of the young lady’s eager and dreadfully uncouth mother.
Poor Charles. To be so willfully misunderstood when he was only being his charming, gregarious self. Why, I am told the two were rarely even in company with each other and never alone, and yet the mother had boasted aloud of an imminent wedding at Netherfield Park. What nerve!
“I have not approached my brother just yet,” said Georgiana. “I believe timing is everything. Besides, his annual trip to Kent to visit our aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh and our cousin Anne is approaching soon.”
Miss Bingley’s teacup clinked against the saucer. “How tiring it must be for poor Mr. Darcy to always be expected to spend part of the London Season amid such tiring company,” Miss Bingley opined.
Georgiana arched her brow. “Pray, have a care, Caroline. The tiring company you are referring to are my family. They mean a great deal to me as well as my brother. Besides, I do not believe my brother is the least bit disappointed in visiting every year, else he certainly would not do so. He is his own master, after all.”
“But, of course, you are correct,” replied the other young lady knowingly. “I suppose I shall one day find myself obliged to spend part of the Season in Kent as well.”
“Until such time, my brother relies upon our cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam’s companionship on his annual visits.”
“Oh, but surely when he has chosen a wife, who shall better afford a more lasting convenience in said regard, all of that will change. Speaking of which, I do hope your aunt has given up the hope of an alliance between Mr. Darcy and your cousin Anne.”
Georgiana could not help but recall Lady Catherine’s favorite refrain regarding that particular matter: “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favorite wish of his mother, as well as of her own. While in their cradles, we planned the union.”
Shaking her head, she silently scoffed. “My aunt is very determined—that is one fact I dare not deny. But I am sure I would not worry about any of that if I were you.”
Smiling, Miss Bingley placed her cup on the saucer and set both aside on a nearby table. Reaching out to the younger woman, she seized her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Dearest Georgiana, I simply cannot tell you how much hearing you say that means to me. I declare you are the kindest person I know. My brother could not wish for a more advantageous alliance than an alliance with you, and I shall do everything in my power to see that it comes about. Between your brother and me, your happiness with my brother is assured.”
Chapter 17
beyond expression
Hunsford - Spring 1812
The ensuing weeks and months had done little to calm Mrs. Bennet’s vexations as well as her complaints of being ill-used, not only by her own daughters
but by her husband and Mr. Bingley too. Added to her lengthy list of lamentations was the fact the militia had decamped from the environs, taking away any chance that one of her daughters might garner the affections of one of the officers.
Jane had also journeyed to town to stay with her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, from Cheapside. As reluctant as Jane had been to employ such measures, Elizabeth had to believe that the prospect of crossing paths with Mr. Bingley was a strong inducement. She needed no more evidence than this to persuade herself that Jane really did love Mr. Bingley with all her heart, and anyone who might attempt to discredit her sister’s feelings would surely meet with Elizabeth’s extreme displeasure.
With so little in Hertfordshire to divert her, Elizabeth was overjoyed to receive a letter from her now married friend Charlotte inviting her to come to Hunsford for a visit. As Phoebe had long since set aside her assumed grievances against Elizabeth, she gave the strongest hints of wanting to travel to that part of the country as well. And thither the two young ladies journeyed.
Little did Elizabeth know or even have reason to suspect that a few weeks after their arrival, she would be the recipient of yet another unwelcome proposal of marriage. As fate would have it, not very far away in Rosings Park, the home of her cousin Mr. Collins’s noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, stayed Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy himself as well as another, a rather amiable gentleman: Colonel Fitzwilliam. Both were her ladyship’s nephews and most honored guests.
There Elizabeth sat in her friend’s parlor listening to the former - the proud Mr. Darcy - professing his ardent love for her.
To add insult to injury, he told her his profession was being made against his better judgment even against his will.
