Mrs. Bennet suddenly stopped breathing, weighing her husband’s words carefully; she instantly knew that there was more Mr. Bennet was not saying.
“So, a young gentleman, Mr. Bennet? Do you know something of him then? Tell me at once!”
Mr. Bennet declined knowing anything, but it was too late; Mrs. Bennet was determined not to leave his presence until he had told her what he knew.
“All I have come to know is that the gentleman in question comes from London and will arrive in a fortnight—accompanied.”
The word “accompanied” produced a panic in Mrs. Bennet, for its meaning reduced the chance of one of her girls’ becoming engaged. She had already lost one good marriage proposal, and she was not going to allow another one to escape her.
“Mr. Bennet, you have had your way in having Lizzy reject Mr. Collins. Do not imagine I have forgotten it or that I am blind to your preference for her—but this time you will do whatever is necessary to have one of the girls married. If this is not reason enough, think of Mr. Collins who will throw us out of the house—Lizzy above all.”
Mr. Bennet agreed, partly to get rid of his lady and partly because it was just to do so.
***
The following day, her visit to Lady Lucas bore fruit; among pleasantries and endless compliments on imagined achievements between the families, Mrs. Bennet found what she had come for. Elizabeth and Jane managed to excuse themselves from the visit with the pretext of employment at home, but Lydia, Kitty, and Marry were more than content to join their mother at Lucas Lodge. Thus, they heard the following.
Sir William had first-hand news from Mr. Morris, and it was most hopeful. Mr. Bingley, the gentleman in question, was found to be a young man of large fortune—five thousand pounds a year—with amiable manners. He had come to see the estate during the past week, accompanied by another gentleman—at which point, Mrs. Bennet heaved a sigh of relief—and decided upon it almost immediately. No wife or betrothed was mentioned, and Lady Lucas assured everyone that the gentleman in question was single.
“Mrs. Bennet, it is a pity that my Maria is so decidedly young, I would have liked nothing better than to have this gentleman as a son-in-law.”
Mrs. Bennet knew that Maria Lucas was not too young to interest the gentleman, but she also knew that Lady Lucas was only trying to appear less interested in the matter. She changed the subject but determined to keep Lady Lucas under close observation for any unfair attempts to have her daughter directed towards Mr. Bingley.
“And has Mr. Bingley mentioned that he would be giving a ball?” Lydia asked full of hope while Mrs. Bennet pretended not to be interested in such a question.
“I have not heard anything about it, but I am sure he will decide to give one the moment he hears there are so many handsome young ladies around,” Sir William replied politely.
Lydia found little satisfaction in hearing such an uncertain supposition, and she continued, determined to her desired outcome. “I guess, then, that we shall have to force him to come to our assembly. There can be nothing better than a welcome ball, can there?”
Sir William cleared his throat, somewhat incommoded by Lydia’s insistence. Lady Lucas spoke instead.
“That would be lovely, dearest Lydia, although we still can say little of Mr. Bingley’s preferences.”
Upon returning home, Mrs. Bennet was ready to repeat to everyone who would listen all that she had found out about the gentleman in question.
“He is single! And better than that, he brings a friend with him!”
“But what does he look like?” Jane asked, taking Elizabeth by surprise.
“No girl should be so vain as to care about the appearance of a man before she is married,” Mrs. Bennet replied, annoyed and in complete earnest.
Elizabeth laughed soundly when Lydia began describing the gentleman in question, Mr. Bingley, as she had heard it from Sir William. Mr. Bingley was said to be tall, thin, and well mannered; the sketch she drew was so vague that—Elizabeth thought—the same features could have been attributed to anyone, even to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth paused in her thoughts, surprised that she allowed herself to think once more on that gentleman. She returned her attention to Lydia and her endless, nonsensical talk and admitted that she had little imagination, even in repeating what others had reported to her.
The rest of the evening was spent debating the same subject, making plans, and insisting that Mr. Bennet visit Mr. Bingley as soon as possible and invite him to return the visit.
Several days later, Elizabeth, Jane, and Lydia—on the request of their mother—were sent to walk towards Netherfield and observe whether Mr. Bingley had moved into the main residence and thus have such knowledge before the other families.
Elizabeth was in no hurry, nor willing to do so, but Jane, who fancied a long walk that morning, insisted upon it, and Elizabeth finally agreed to it. It was a pity nevertheless to have Netherfield Park occupied again, Elizabeth thought, as she cared not for the gentleman moving to the estate—nor to the degree of her mother’s eager interest—but rather that she would no longer be able to take walks there at will.
Lydia led the party with Jane and Elizabeth following. She spoke endlessly about the gowns and bonnets that she had heard from the dressmaker were fashionable in Town now. She then asked both Elizabeth and Jane to describe in detail the gowns they had seen in London and at Rosings Park. When there was no more to be talked on the subject, Lydia declared herself bored.
Before the three sisters realized it, the roof of Netherfield Park rose splendidly before them. From where they stood, the estate appeared greater still; the midday sun still lingered on the front walls, bringing the golden colour of its front to majestic life, and Elizabeth and Jane remained in wonder at such beauty. I shall miss coming here and admiring all this whenever I please, Elizabeth thought with melancholy, unable to take her eyes off the sight.
“Jane, Elizabeth, look! A carriage is approaching!” Lydia yelled, pointing down the road. Elizabeth raised her hand to her eyes to shade them and acquire a better view. It seemed large enough for a whole party. Elizabeth barely had time to think of what should be done next when she saw Lydia running towards the front of the estate.
“They are arriving, Lizzy; let us have a closer look. I want to see Mr. Bingley. Come, Lizzy! Come, Jane!”
Elizabeth and Jane set into motion, and Lydia paused, allowing her sisters to catch her, then began running again with even greater speed. She stopped only when she reached the front yard and halted next to a tree, which was to be their observation point. Elizabeth and Jane finally reached her, panting. Jane leant against the tree to rest.
“We should not be here, Lydia. We should return home,” Jane said when she was able to speak again.
“Do you not wish to see Mr. Bingley?” Lydia asked, standing on her tiptoes.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth replied more severely. “Jane is right. We know Mr. Bingley has arrived; now we should return home.”
“No, I wish to see him, Lizzy! We are here now, are we not? What is wrong with having a quick look?”
“It is wrong since we have no business being here,” Elizabeth whispered for fear of being heard by one of the servants who were moving in and out of the front of the residence.
“Lizzy, look!” Lydia said suddenly, directing their gaze towards the entrance.
Elizabeth and Lydia watched as the carriage entered the avenue; two more servants appeared almost immediately from the house and waited patiently for the carriage to reach the entrance. Lydia giggled with excitement while Elizabeth struggled to silence her and Jane feared the mortification of being caught trespassing on someone else’s property.
A servant opened the door of the carriage, allowing the passengers to descend one by one. Elizabeth first saw a young lady with blonde hair in an elegant summer gown get down from the carriage with an air of importance; immediately, a gentleman’s voice was heard.
“At long last! Is it not marvellous, Caroline?”
Their curiosities piqued, Elizabeth and Lydia tried to see as much as they could, but they had only glimpses of the man whose voice was carried to them—not close enough to form an opinion about him. Jane continued to stand aloof, begging Elizabeth and Lydia to leave the spot at once, but her curiosity eventually induced her to join her sisters.
“Yes, it is!” the young lady by the name of Caroline answered, adding a remark about the sun falling on the front facade.
“What are they saying? I cannot hear a thing!” Lydia said with impatience. “I shall try and get closer.”
“You are not going anywhere!” Elizabeth grabbed Lydia’s arm to prevent her moving while her eyes were fixed on the carriage, from where another lady emerged. Her face was long with a few more years added to its features; she seemed slightly bored and somewhat unimpressed by the sight in front of her. A heavily built man followed her, complaining instantly about having to travel so far from London and demanding immediately to be served something strong to drink.
“There are four of them.” Lydia spoke at once. “I just wish they would move that carriage so we could see them better. I still can’t make out Mr. Bingley entirely.”
“Hush, Lydia…they will hear us,” Elizabeth reprimanded her.
Different voices continued to be heard from the front of the house, although not a single one of them was distinct.
“We are not going to see Mr. Bingley sitting here like this, Lizzy,” Lydia protested, freeing herself from Elizabeth’s grip, no longer disturbed that she might be seen.
“There is someone else with them,” she said to her sisters. “Yet another man. Must be Mr. Bingley’s friend, the one Sir William has told us about. Lizzy, Jane, come and look at Mr. Bingley!”
The sisters stood and looked in the direction Lydia pointed. On the stairs of the manor house, they could admire the figure of a young gentleman of fine appearance; his countenance was found to be pleasant, giving the air of someone friendly and obliging. His resemblance to “Caroline” was striking. Both Elizabeth and Jane agreed that she must be related to him, for they were both of fair complexions, and Miss Bingley carried a small parasol to protect herself from the sun.
“He is exceedingly good looking, and he seems amiable,” Jane whispered softly. Elizabeth smiled back encouragingly to her then returned to watch Mr. Bingley climb the steps.
Only then did it become clear to Elizabeth that he was smiling and addressing someone else, a man at the foot of the steps. Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes to better see the face of the gentleman.
A moment later, her heart began to race and her cheeks coloured as chills travelled along her spine. She looked again in disbelief and narrowed her eyes for clearer sight, certain that her imagination was trifling with her. And yet—it was all true. She moved back, blinking repeatedly several times then finally glancing at her sisters who looked at her in puzzlement. As she still did not trust her eyes, she turned to gaze once more at the all-too-familiar face of the man she vowed she would never encounter again. She leant against the tree, defeated.
“What is it, Lizzy?” Jane inquired with concern. “Are you unwell?”
Elizabeth shook her head then moved and returned to look at the entrance. He was still there. In flesh and blood. Elizabeth felt Jane’s hand on her shoulder and turned to face her.
“Lizzy, what is it? You look troubled. Tell me please whether there is something wrong. Do you know the gentleman Mr. Bingley has brought with him?”
At last, Elizabeth found her voice. “Yes, I do, Jane. That gentleman is Mr. Darcy.”
Chapter Nine
The image of Mr. Darcy at Netherfield astonished and overwhelmed Elizabeth. His coming to Hertfordshire was a happenstance she never considered possible; it was the last thing she expected or wished, and hours after she returned home, she could still not reconcile it.
She was certain she would never see him again—even his memory had started to fade in her mind. And now—there he was, mere miles away from her again. She had seen him only from afar, his countenance and expression hidden from her. What was his purpose in being here? Was she of such little importance to him that he forgot she lived there? Was he oblivious to the fact that he might encounter her? Had he even thought of her? Questions spun inside Elizabeth’s mind with a velocity that scared her, and her surprise turned into confusion then distress.
For the next two days, Elizabeth had to listen to Lydia re-tell the story of the Bingleys’ arrival in full detail for Mrs. Bennet’s pleasure. From the perspective of age, it was quickly decided by Mrs. Bennet that Jane should be the one to take an interest in Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth laughed at such an idea—hardly anyone can order her heart to love on command—and sat in silence, contributing little information; she had other thoughts on her mind, things that she strove to keep secret.
She knew the subject of Mr. Darcy would quickly be the chief preoccupation if her mother should learn of his wealth and consequence. What will happen when the two of them are in company, and he—no doubt— is rude to her again? How could she explain to her family that she and Mr. Darcy had behaved disgracefully without revealing all she had heard the night of the ball? Or that she had been in his company for a few hours one day when he pretended that he was a different person than everyone described.
Elizabeth was flustered and disappointed that such a memory still tormented her. For him, it surely meant nothing! Why do I think about such silliness?
Elizabeth forced herself to return to the room and heard her mother say, “Do tell, Jane! Tell me again about Mr. Bingley! What do you think of him?” Mrs. Bennet asked, enchanted.
Before Jane could speak a word, Mr. Bennet interposed, as he was bored with the number of times he had heard of Mr. Bingley’s arrival. “For Heaven’s sake, Mrs. Bennet! You have heard Jane describe him at least a dozen times in every way possible that a human being can be described.”
“Mr. Bennet, do not be such a tease. There is nothing wrong with a young lady finding nice words for a gentleman. I am sure that Mr. Bingley is that and more.”
“Then, at least, allow the girls to form their opinion of the man on meeting him and not before. We would not want them to fantasize themselves in love with a man they know nothing about.”
“You are right, Papa. Our enthusiasm has been greatly over-measured,” Jane replied modestly, hoping to put an end to her parents’ argument.
Lydia, who had been silent for a long time, found the opportunity to announce importantly, “But all of this is so exciting! You have to see the carriage in which they arrived. Very expensive! I wish we had one like that! And Miss Bingley’s gown! Such exquisite taste! I swear I have never seen anything like it before.”
Mr. Bennet turned his gaze to Elizabeth, in search of much needed support, but he his favourite daughter seemed lost in her thought.
“You have no praise to give, Lizzy? Is there not a sister, dog, or ribbon you would like to flatter?”
Elizabeth smiled and then replied, “No, Papa—none whatsoever.”
“Aha, there is one of my daughters with a sound mind in the house. I must content myself with such an extraordinary success then,” he said, standing up and heading to the door. Elizabeth followed him with her gaze through the window as he walked towards the pond. She was inclined to follow him, but she imagined he needed some time alone after being forced to listen for so long about Mr. Bingley. She wished she could do that, but Jane needed her much more in the room for support.
“Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said after she was sure Mr. Bennet could not hear her, “do not mind your father’s words. You know he cannot understand the suffering of a woman’s heart. You can fancy Mr. Bingley as long as you wish.”
“But, Mama, we know nothing about Mr. Bingley. Papa is right when he says we must wait and meet him in person before we encourage affection. A handsome figure does not equal character, no matter how much we wish it.” Elizabeth was thinking of her first impression of Mr. Darcy at Rosings Park only
to change her opinion afterwards.
Mrs. Bennet, however, paid no attention to her advice and simply went on. “Lizzy, I am sure that Mr. Bingley will fall in love with Jane as soon as he lays eyes on her. Can you honestly tell me there is anyone better than your sister?”
“No, Mama—you know I love Jane with all my heart, but I do believe that prudence is important here.”
“Oh hush, Lizzy! Better still, speak to your father and convince him to visit Mr. Bingley as soon as possible; then we shall have first-hand evidence of the worth of his character. Or we should think of something else.”
Elizabeth felt she had nothing else to say to change her mother’s mind on the subject and returned to her book, determined not to prolong the conversation.
“Lizzy, I have just recalled something,” Lydia intervened. “You have met Mr. Darcy, have you not?”
Elizabeth realized she was in danger and prepared herself with a composed countenance while she answered, “Yes, Lydia, I did. But—”
She was not allowed to finish as Mrs. Bennet clapped her hand in contentment. “Lizzy, I have always said that Lydia is the cleverest of you all. How have I not thought of it before?”
“Thought of what?” Elizabeth exclaimed with alarm.
“How to get to Mr. Bingley. Now tell me at once, what did you and Mr. Darcy discuss at Rosings? How many times did you meet? Was he friendly with you? Tell me everything.”
“Mama, I assure you that Mr. Darcy is not the solution to approaching Mr. Bingley. If our previous encounter bore any significance for Mr. Darcy, which I seriously doubt, he would call on me. But if I never meet him again, it will be too soon.”
Elizabeth’s vehemence quieted the drawing room in an instant. Elizabeth saw Jane looking puzzled, startled to hear her speak so. Even Mary watched her with alarm. Elizabeth knew she had to offer an explanation, but she had none that she would willingly offer.
“Very well, Lizzy, since you are not willing to help you sister, we shall think of something else,” Mrs. Bennet concluded angrily.
Meant to Be: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 11
