by Dixon, P. O.
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Chapter 1 ~ The Morning After
Hertfordshire, September 1812
The Bennet family sat around the breakfast table the morning after the Meryton assembly. All the ladies who had been in attendance were filled with exuberance as they extolled the events of the evening before. Elizabeth, the second eldest of five daughters, had suffered a sprained ankle the morning of the assembly and had been unable to accompany her sisters. Thus, she was resigned to a vicarious retelling of every single escapade, much to the delight of everyone, save her poor father.
Public assemblies, private balls—they were pretty much the same to the females of Longbourn Village: both afforded such expectations of merriment, from the planning of which dress to wear to the speculation on who would be there. Then, of course, there was the high-spiritedness of the event itself. The anticipation of this particular assembly was intoxicating, for the entire town was excited over the prospect of meeting the newest neighbour, a Mr. Charles Bingley, who had recently let Netherfield Park. A single man in possession of a good fortune meant but one thing to all the mothers with unattached daughters: the gentleman was in desperate want of a wife.
Mrs. Bennet barely contained her enthusiasm. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! We had such a delightful evening! I wish you had been there. And you too, Lizzy. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked. Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and he danced with her twice! Only think of that, my dear. He actually danced with her twice, and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time.”
An exhaustive accounting of Mr. Bingley’s dance partners ensued, sorely challenging Mr. Bennet’s patience. “If he had any compassion for me, he would not have danced half so much! For God’s sake, say no more of his partners. Oh, that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!” Remembering the reason for his favourite daughter’s lack of enthusiasm in comparison with the others, he glanced at her. “You will forgive me, my dear Lizzy. I would have been quite pleased to have you stand opposite the agreeable Mr. Bingley as well.”
Feeling Jane’s pleasure, Elizabeth could not resist smiling. “Dearest Jane, I would have enjoyed seeing you so agreeably engaged with Mr. Bingley.”
Her youngest sister, Lydia, said, “Mr. Bingley danced with me too!” She snorted. “He stared at me too.”
Not to be outdone, Elizabeth’s next youngest sister, Kitty, said, “He danced with all of us—save Mary. I am sure he would have danced with you too, Lizzy.”
Mary, the middle child of a rather bookish constitution, adjusted her spectacles. “I think dancing is much exaggerated. I heard myself referred to by Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood. I am apt to consider false modesty less than virtuous; however, I do believe mine was the greatest compliment.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled falsely at Mary before resuming her praise of the amiable Mr. Bingley. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown—”
Mr. Bennet interrupted her again; this time with fierce protests against any description of finery. Compelled to seek another branch of the subject, his wife related the shocking rudeness of one of the other esteemed guests, Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s smile became a puzzled grimace. “Excuse me, Mamma. Did I correctly hear you say Mr. Bingley’s friend is a Mr. Darcy? Would this be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire?”
Her mother looked at her with thinly disguised dismay. “Yes, but not a single one of us cares. The proud man walked here and there and fancied himself quite above his company. He is not someone you would have admired, Lizzy. There were many young ladies without dance partners, but it mattered not one bit to Mr. Darcy. You suffered no loss in not seeing him. I quite detest the man even if he does have ten thousand a year and is purported to own half of Derbyshire. I can assure you he owns the miserable half.”
Can this be the older brother of the dear sweet young woman whom I have grown so fond of over these past months?
Her recent trip to Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner from London was such a joyful excursion. They had visited many fine estates, including Pemberley. The grounds and the house were remarkable. Elizabeth had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. She recalled thinking at that moment that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
Escaping her relatives for a few moments of quiet solitude amongst the majesty of the grand estate had been paramount. Walking along one of the splendid paths, she had espied an angelic young woman sitting alone and painting a picture of the open meadow. Fair haired, with a fine complexion and bright-eyes, her welcoming smile encouraged Elizabeth to approach her. Elizabeth admired the painting and complimented the excellent choice of colours and lighting. A week after Elizabeth returned to Hertfordshire, she received the painting by express. Elizabeth, in turn, sent Miss Darcy a small parcel containing one of her favourite books. Thus, their mutual correspondence ensued, and a steady friendship was born. Though Elizabeth had not met the master of the estate during her visit, she recalled spending quite a bit of time admiring his likeness in the art gallery. What a handsome man he was. By the housekeeper’s account, he is the best man in the world—a generous master of excellent disposition.
Of course, she had said those who did not know him might think he was proud. Perhaps my mother merely misunderstood his character.
Mrs. Bennet complained of Mr. Darcy’s inattention to her daughters, how he would dance with no one other than the members of his own party, and how he had refused to converse with Mrs. Long despite sitting close to her for half-an-hour. When her mother could speak no more on her distaste for the unpleasant man, she directed her attention to her daughter Kitty and prevailed upon her to pass the platter of meats.
Jane placed her hand upon Elizabeth’s. “Oh, Lizzy! Is it not a strange coincidence that your friend’s brother should find himself in Hertfordshire of all places? Though, I think it odd that Miss Darcy would not have mentioned his plans to visit in her frequent letters.”
“I cannot account for her omission except to say she does not write often of her brother’s comings and goings, especially since she does not reside with him, save her visits to Pemberley during the summer. Besides his being a complete stranger to me, she may not even be aware that he and I are in proximity.”
“Yes. I suppose that is it.”
Mrs. Bennet quickly reclaimed her share of the conversation. “Now that you mention it, Lizzy, I do recollect hearing you speak of young Miss Darcy a time or two.” The older woman, who had known what it was like to be much admired for her beauty, if not her wit, shrugged. “Not that it will do you any good in knowing the sister, for I fear the brother is much too enamoured of himself to give notice to you. How he can be the kind and amiable Mr. Bingley’s friend is a mystery to me.”
Mrs. Bennet raised her porcelain cup to her lips and then set it down after taking a sip. “I shall be delighted to entertain Mr. Bingley for dinner, but not his friend. He is the last man in the world I should wish to see ever again.”
Later, when Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how much s
he admired him.
“Mr. Bingley is everything a young gentleman ought to be. He is sensible, lively, and good-humoured. I never saw such happy manners.”
Elizabeth was inclined to agree with her sister’s good opinion of Mr. Bingley, having discerned for herself how handsome he was when she and her sisters had the advantage of seeing him from an upper window a week or so before when he returned their father’s earlier visit to Netherfield. He had worn a blue coat and rode a black horse. The manner of his style of dress and his walk told her all she needed to know about his amiability.
The brightness in Jane’s eyes brought a smile to Elizabeth’s face, for Jane did not often show her true feelings to anyone. Jane is smitten!
Elizabeth said, “We must not neglect to add that he is rich, and dare I say he is handsome.”
“Oh, Lizzy! You know neither of those things is of consequence to me. I must admit that I was flattered by his asking me to dance a second time.”
“I say it is a most befitting compliment. He would have been a fool not to have paid especially close attention to you, dearest Jane.” The two sisters joined hands. “Just think; should the two of you come to a mutual understanding, then you will no longer be obliged to accept the beau whom our excellent father has chosen.”
“Yes, but my good fortune would possibly come at the expense of your own future happiness. You will recall Papa saying that should either of us meet and fall in love and marry, then the one who remains unattached shall be the lucky bride of Mr. Caseman.”
Elizabeth shuddered. Regardless of her parents’ expectations, she concluded long ago that if she were to marry, the gentleman would be one of her own choosing. If she should find herself choosing Mr. Caseman, then it would be so much the better for everyone.
“You need not remind me of Papa’s favourite wish that one of us should marry the eldest son of his closest friend from university, but the terms of their mutual accord are so vague they might easily be comprehended as more of a strong suggestion rather than a strict edict. Papa has allowed enough latitude that we might both meet and choose our own husbands. I believe I shall have some time even after you and your Mr. Bingley are attached.”
“He is not my Mr. Bingley—at least not yet.”
~*~
A restless night filled with dread over what her sister likely suffered away from home and in the company of complete strangers, gave way to an anxious morning. Elizabeth received a letter from Jane imparting information of her poor health. Jane implored her to come to Netherfield. Coming face to face with Mr. Darcy under such circumstances as this cannot be a good thing. Meeting the Bingley sisters for the first time is hardly a compelling inducement either. Elizabeth sighed. I have no choice. My sister needs me.
It had all been her mother’s doing. When the invitation for Jane to dine at Netherfield with Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst arrived the day before, Mrs. Bennet had insisted Jane travel by horseback. Jane’s preference had been to take the carriage, but her mother proclaimed the horses could not be spared. Her father reluctantly agreed. Mrs. Bennet had eagerly sent her eldest daughter on her way with many cheerful prognostics of a rainy day. Not long after Jane left the house, her mother’s prayers were answered. Rain poured from the sky in droves. Jane’s dire predicament demanded she spend the night.
Once again, Elizabeth perused Jane’s missive explaining her ill-health. She attributed it to her having arrived at Netherfield soaking wet the day before. She drew a long breath. Oh, that my poor sister should find herself at the mercy of strangers! Her friend Charlotte Lucas had given her a very unflattering assessment of the Bingley sisters. Elizabeth had missed them when they called on Longbourn. By Charlotte’s account, she had not missed much, for the ladies had called on Lucas Lodge as well. Her friend supposed they were intelligent enough to have made themselves quite agreeable had they chosen to. Their countenance was handsome, their clothing elegant, and by their air, they were educated in the finest seminaries. Although Jane had described them as very pleasing women with excellent conversation, Elizabeth supposed it was simply Jane’s way. The whole world was good and agreeable in her eldest sister’s eyes. Charlotte, however, was clever and a fine studier of people.
In fairness to the two women whom she had never met, Elizabeth supposed, at the very least, their invitation for Jane to dine with them was confirmation of their good opinion of Jane, but what must they now think? Arriving on horseback on a day that promised rain defied sound judgement.
I pray they have not attributed such lack of sensibility to dear Jane—the sweetest, most unassuming person in the world. Impropriety of any kind is not in my sister’s nature. Elizabeth gathered her things and headed for the door.
Mrs. Bennet impeded her departure. “Where do you suppose you are headed, Miss Lizzy.”
“I am going to Netherfield to see Jane.”
“You will do no such thing, young lady. I will not have you arriving at Netherfield uninvited and making a spectacle of yourself; thereby, hindering Jane’s prospects when everything is working according to plan. I reckon Mr. Bingley is half in love with her already.”
“I am sorry, Mamma, but I cannot be a party to your scheme. I must see Jane. She complains of a fever and a headache. She needs me!”
“Nonsense! People do not die of trifling colds. Jane’s health will return soon enough. Pray she returns to Longbourn engaged to be married.”
Passing through the hall on his way to the quiet sanctuary of his library, Mr. Bennet slowed his pace. “I am inclined to agree with your mother, Lizzy. Were Jane in any real danger then Mr. Bingley surely would have sent word. It shall prove far better for your sister’s prospects to allow your mother’s scheme to unfold.”
“Papa!”
“There, you see. Your father agrees with me. You will turn around and head back upstairs.”
Elizabeth pretended not to hear her mother’s ardent protests as she headed out the door and down the steps. I understand Mamma and Papa’s desire to see their eldest daughter well settled, but surely this is not the way to go about it.
Chapter 2 ~ Constant Company
Elizabeth enjoyed few things more than a long solitary ramble through the countryside. At first, the fresh open air quickly extinguished any concerns of how her arrival might be perceived by the Netherfield party, but not for long. In under a mile away, Elizabeth looked down at her hem—six inches deep in mud. Her untidy attire was hardly a fitting recommendation to the new neighbours. Is appearing before strangers in such an unsightly state any less of a spectacle than arriving on horseback in the pouring rain?
There is nothing to be done now. With any luck, I shall arrive with little fanfare. I shall proceed to see Jane without making Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance in such a shabby state as this. Undeterred, Elizabeth continued on her way, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house.
Once Elizabeth was shown into the breakfast-parlour, the gentleman whom she recognised as Mr. Bingley greeted her with kindness and good humour.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said he, “this is indeed a pleasant surprise to make your acquaintance after all this time in Hertfordshire. I have heard so many pleasant accounts in your favour.” He stole a glance at the others before looking back at Elizabeth. “Allow me to introduce you to everyone.”
First, he introduced his eldest sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst, and her husband, Mr. Hurst. The former addressed Elizabeth with an affected smile; the latter barely looked up from his heaping plate of eggs and bacon. He then introduced his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley.
“I concur with my brother,” she said, her voice dripping with honey but her eyes gleaming with contempt. “It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I am sure.” Elizabeth gazed about the room.
Bingley said, “Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, are you looking for someone? Your sister
, Miss Bennet, is resting upstairs.”
Of course, her first concern was her sister’s well-being. It was, after all, the sole purpose in her even being there. She had not expected to see Jane sitting at the breakfast table. However, she had expected someone else. Mr. Darcy. Where is he?
Bingley cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth?”
“Pardon me, Mr. Bingley. How is my sister?”
Miss Bingley said, “I am afraid Miss Bennet slept poorly. She is very feverish and not well enough to leave her room.” She stood from the table. “I shall show you to her.”
Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her sister immediately. Seeing Jane settled and well attended was a source of considerable calm for Elizabeth, causing her to suspect the Bingley sisters were not half as bad as Charlotte had said. Elizabeth was also glad for having missed seeing Mr. Darcy. She reckoned he was an early riser, just as she was. Perhaps he was enjoying an invigorating morning ride before breakfast.
It is just as well, for I am hardly attired to make Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance just now. Elizabeth huffed. On the other hand, if he is half as proud as my mother proclaims, I might make a horrible impression even if I wore my finest gown.
Although Elizabeth was hesitant to impinge upon the Bingley’s hospitality beyond three o’clock, Jane’s anguish over her leave-taking, combined with Miss Bingley’s reluctant insistence for her to remain at Netherfield, compelled Elizabeth to stay. A servant was dispatched to Longbourn to bring back a fresh supply of clothes.
Elizabeth inspected the gown that had been sent over. Her mother obviously had a hand in picking her things. The cut of the décolletage displayed that aspect of Elizabeth’s person no red-blooded man would fail to appreciate. Rarely had she given much attention to such matters before. After quickly dressing, Elizabeth looked in the mirror and gave the gown a futile tug. She arched her brow. Deciding that there was nothing to be done, she made her way downstairs.
