No sooner had she made such a profound internal decision that she looked up from her book at the same time as the man in question and their eyes met. Still no words passed, but the he displayed a depth of feeling Elizabeth Bennet had never witnessed before. Captivated by his expression, her heart ached for he truly seemed to be in pain, yet she knew not why. As guilt washed over her earlier imprudent behavior, a small sigh escaped her lips. No matter how ugly or rude Mr. Darcy or Miss Bingley behaved, it was no excuse for her behavior. She would be the one to offer the olive branch.
“I wish to apologize for storming out of the library earlier. If you intended your words to pay a compliment, I was ungrateful in the extreme. And if you meant to insult me, it still leaves me no credit to return such sentiments with an insult of my own.”
Darcy blinked. Then his eyebrows began to knit together. He wanted nothing more than to clean his ears with his fingers because surely he could not have heard her correctly. How on earth could his rash confession of affection for her be interpreted as an insult? His mind failed in working out the logic of such a situation so he came to the conclusion that this must be yet another game of arts and allurement by Miss Elizabeth. He was rather tired of playing games.
“I fail to see how my words may have insulted –”
“I assure you, sir, your insinuation was clear. A woman of my status, as you so emphatically pointed out at breakfast, could never hope for an honorable proposal from a man of your means. And I know of the fashions and fad of the London set. I may be a penniless gentleman’s daughter, but I am still a gentleman’s daughter.” Elizabeth could not stop the passions of her anger returning to her heart and mind, and she closed her book and stood. She hugged the thick tome to her chest as if it might provide some magical defense against the agony of emotions she endured whenever she was near this stranger.
When Mr. Darcy could offer no apology in kind, or explanation, Elizabeth nodded and pursed her lips. She turned on her heel and made for the door. The only safe place for her was her bedroom until dinner.
Darcy gaped at the fiery passion in Elizabeth’s face as she defended her position. Had she honestly thought he intended to offer her a position other than his wife? And how had a woman of her background come to know of such things? His mind reeled with the possibilities until she took her leave.
“Elizabeth, please do not go.” He called softly, saddened that calling her by her Christian name only caused her to flinch as she continued to walk away.
Fitzwilliam Darcy grew despondent once more at her rejection. If one owned an instrument to suck all joy out of the air, it was Elizabeth Bennet when she was cross with him. Darcy noticed the chess board was once more restored. Surprised at himself, his shaky hand moved black’s pawn two rows forward to begin another game. And as he planned to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library’s solitary comforts, his heart dared hope the chess board might beckon her downstairs once more.
Another evening of uncomfortable dining partners set Elizabeth’s nerves on edge. Between the slings and arrows tossed her way by the stares of Caroline Bingley and Mr. Darcy, all punctuated by booms and crashes of thunder outside, Elizabeth’s neck and shoulders ached from a permanently tightened position. The abundant roses resided in complete wilt making the candlelight appear sour. There remained little to interest her in the event.
The rain beat against the windows accompanied by the feral cry of the wind. The room felt chilled, though a roaring fire was just behind Elizabeth’s chair. She shivered and continued to attempt an appetite by eating her cold meat one small bite at a time.
“Miss Bingley,” Darcy interrupted the shrew to his left who had assumed her normal custom of a one-sided conversation with the man of Derbyshire, “while I am sure your experiences at the ____ Ball last spring were most rapturous, I beg your pardon.” Darcy did not take his eyes off the diminutive form of Elizabeth seated across from him. “Miss Elizabeth, are you quite alright? I noticed appeared chilled just now.”
Elizabeth blushed that Mr. Darcy would be so bold as to admit he had been watching her. “I am not at ease, only worried about Jane, you understand.” She parried the personal inquiry.
Caroline Bingley sniffed and pressed her lips in a fine line. “I should dearly hope you are not becoming ill yourself, Miss Eliza, as you’ve been so dutiful in your sister’s care, it would be a wretched manner of repayment.”
“I am quite well, thank you, Miss Bingley.”
“Blast, this weather be the dogs!” Mr. Bingley piped up to the admonishment of his sister. But Charles Bingley offered no apology. “I am only to mean that your poor sister might recover all the much sooner if the weather were of a drier nature.”
“There is no evidence that one becomes more or less ill due to weather,” Darcy said.
“Oh, I forget you are well read on every topic.” Bingley motioned for his wine glass to be refilled as he drained it upon teasing Darcy.
Darcy cleared his throat, looking up from his plate to see Miss Elizabeth giving him her full attention. “I do not profess to be an expert in the medical arts, but all the treatises I have read can find no justification for a person’s illness as a result of the weather since others in the near vicinity are often well.”
“So there you have it, if one is to become ill in bad weather, it is not a defect of Nature, but that of the person’s nature.” Caroline beamed as she tried to impress Mr. Darcy with her logic, only to receive abject gazes of horror from the rest of the table. “What? I do not mean poor Jane has any such defect. No, of course not, she is beyond all that is sweet and good —“
“Yes, my sister IS all that is sweet and good and I think we might look for a change of subject. Mr. Bingley, how long do you plan to let Netherfield Park? Are we to expect you and your family to remain through winter and into spring?” Elizabeth shut Caroline down and forced the conversation to focus on Charles.
“Er . . . That is, I had not fully thought out our plans. I should like to stay very much, but just as swiftly as I took this property, I am just as easily pleased should our plans change,” Charles made eye contact with Caroline as her face stretched and pulled expressions of incredulity. “Caroline wishes us to return to London for Christmas,” he finished flatly.
For her part, Miss Bingley offered Elizabeth a wan smile and fluttered her eyelashes. “Well, nothing is certain yet. What my brother will not tell you of is his fickle nature when it comes to plans of any kind. He is the sort to agree to a picnic only to change his mind the day of to dining indoors and follow it with a horse ride. By the way, Miss Elizabeth, do you ride?”
Elizabeth offered Miss Bingley a wistful smile, relishing the joy bubbling up inside her once more that she would not offer this woman an ounce of satisfaction. “Not in this weather, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Darcy laughed at the verbally sparring woman, the only person to do so, and swiftly covered his guffaw with a cough. “Forgive me, I merely found Miss Elizabeth’s rejoinder rather comical.”
“Humor is no substitute for wit.”
“And neither is vulgarity.” Elizabeth lifted her wine glass, thoroughly enjoying herself now that she might openly be rude to Caroline without her reinforcements of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, who had elected to eat in their rooms.
“She has you there, Caro.” Bingley loudly slurped the newly arrived soup course.
“I apologize, my tongue ran away with me.” Elizabeth offered her adversary an apology as she did truly feel guilty for stooping so low. A familiar throbbing began in the front of her head and Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to leave dinner and plead a legitimate headache to escape further discussion.
Caroline said nothing and resumed eating. The dinner table descended to a heavy silence until another loud crash of thunder startled most of them at the table. Elizabeth dropped her fork and hastily picked it up to cover her faux pas.
No longer finding herself hungry in the slightest, Elizabeth appealed to Mr. Bingley’s good nature. “
I wonder if you might excuse me? I do so wish to check on my sister and find my appetite has left me.”
“Of course, of course, please send our warmest wishes for Miss Bennet’s speedy recovery.”
Elizabeth nodded and awaited a footman’s assistance to leave the table. She made certain to avoid eye contact with Mr. Darcy before she left the depressing dining room in case he rebuked her for the cut direct of Caroline. She had no business being so rude to her hostess, and with a background in trade, of course Miss Bingley would stop at nothing for acceptance.
As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to see to her sister, she never questioned herself for caring so much about the opinion of Mr. Darcy.
Three
November 17, 1811
The Bennet sisters enjoyed a late morning meal in the elder sister’s room on the first unplanned morning of their Netherfield stay. Elizabeth managed to make her sister smile and laugh as she described in detail some of the encounters with the Bingley sisters that occurred while Jane had still been sick in bed earlier in the week.
Jane, the Bennet sister most interested in harmony between the Bingleys and the Bennets, found her laughter under better regulation faster than her younger sister. “You ascribe a great deal of jealousy and contempt on Miss Bingley’s part. I wonder if you perhaps lay too much at her feet, Lizzie.”
Elizabeth Bennet shook her head most enthusiastically. “She slants her eyes at me when she’s truly vexed by the attentions Mr. Darcy gives to anyone but herself. I speak true that you must watch yourself around her, Jane. I do not get the impression that Mr. Bingley’s sisters are as enamored with either of us as much as perhaps Mr. Bingley is.” Elizabeth spread more jam on her biscuit with a wistful expression on her face.
Replacing her teacup to her breakfast tray, Jane looked at her younger sister thoughtfully. “You mean more than Mr. Bingley and his friend, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s head shot up and glared at Jane as if she had just pronounced the sky should turn green. “I care not for Mr. Darcy’s amorous pursuits, be they towards me or any other woman. I believe he is just as snobbish and prejudiced and prideful as Miss Bingley, but he has taken more of an effort to hide his true nature.”
“I think you’re being very hard on both of them.”
Elizabeth shrugged and wiped crumbs from her mouth. “People are a fascinating study and it is my experience the true self is the one you encounter in their most comfortable surroundings. That Mr. Darcy can muster politeness at a dining table or in company should have less weight on an estimation of his person than what he says carelessly or when he feels unobserved.”
Jane frowned and tenderly flipped her teaspoon over and over along the axis of its slender spine. Elizabeth Bennet long held the title of the most stubborn sister and there was very little one could do to change her mind once it was set. Jane could only hope that with time perhaps her sister would give more estimation to Mr. Bingley’s family and friends.
“I should hope you are not a victim of your own philosophy. It is quite easy for one to utter words in a harmful way and not intend such harm with malice, but merely a result of a slip of the tongue.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Jane taking on the mantle of eldest in her admonishment. “Then it is incumbent upon all to school their words.”
Jane sighed. “But you must allow for mistakes.”
“And I do! But I can hardly credit Miss Bingley or Mr. Darcy with an error rate so high that every other encounter with them I am insulted in the extreme and a few times, permitted myself to insult them back!”
Elizabeth’s agitation signaled to Jane that she needed to change the subject. “Just promise me that while you are here, you will try to give them more forgiveness instead of censure?”
“Only if you promise we can go home the moment the roads are dry enough for a carriage.”
Jane laughed. “And here I worried you would demand we walk!”
Elizabeth shook her head and helped herself to another biscuit on the basis of their lovely taste and not her hunger level. “No, no, I am quite content to take the carriage home. I prefer my rambles to be purposeless. There is no beauty in merely shuffling yourself from one destination to another.”
“And if we are to have more days of rain? Your loss of walking won’t affect you?” Jane knew her sister to dread being cooped up indoors.
Elizabeth weighed Jane’s concern about her willingness to forgo walking home if she could not take her constitutional walks for more than one more day. It was true two days of indoor activity stressed her nerves and three days was nigh on unbearable. Taking a deep breath, she made another oath she prayed would not come to pass. “I shall take the carriage with you no matter how long we are trapped here by rain, but I shall take a walk at home just as soon as I am able.”
Jane finished her tea and Elizabeth picked up a book of poems to read to her sister.
“Oh no, please do not begin to read. I wish to dress and go downstairs.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Are you certain you are strong enough?”
Jane nodded most vigorously and Elizabeth set the tray aside to allow her sister to rise from her bed. Although she could call a maid, the sisters were at ease in helping one another to dress, so Elizabeth happily took on such a duty for her eldest sister. It was not perhaps as fine of a hairstyle as the parlors of London were accustomed to, but Elizabeth’s nimble fingers pinned Jane’s curls in a fetching manner. Before they left, Elizabeth tucked the one stubborn curl of hers which refused to remain pinned behind her ear and brushed off any remaining crumbs on her skirts.
If Jane was willing to brave most of the day downstairs, then hope remained alive as soon as the rain might stop, they could hurry home to perhaps not peace and tranquility, but at least the raucous environment they were familiar with.
While the storm held less bluster on the second day of its rages, and hardly any rain fell, the previous day’s drenching still made the roads utterly impassable. As Jane desired to spend as much time with Mr. Bingley as possible, Elizabeth found herself once again in the drawing room with the three gentlemen of the house and the other two ladies. She continued to read her copy of Don Quixote, finding herself genuinely pleased with the environment so long as she was not asked to take part in the conversations.
Mrs. Hurst and her sister appeared quite at ease discussing any and all subjects related to London and the fashions. With so many days in their company, Elizabeth was quite confident she could list and describe the various gowns and accoutrements of London’s top set alphabetically and by occasion if she were so pressed. The thought of such an examination made her own natural optimism bubble over and a small laugh escaped her lips, drawing the attention of Miss Bingley.
“My, my Miss Eliza, do share your joy.”
“Forgive me, twas merely a funny moment in my novel. I apologize for disturbing you.”
“The afternoon has passed rather quietly. Perhaps you would play for us, Miss Bingley?” Mr. Darcy asked, glancing up from his own novel he had been reading in peace.
While Caroline did not actually blush, she looked down and back up again through her eyelashes as if she were embarrassed by such a request.
No sooner had Caroline begun playing than her brother invited the eldest Bennet sister for a dance. Elizabeth smiled to see Jane and Mr. Bingley preparing to dance, a more perfect couple she could never claim to have seen. Her thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Darcy stood and blocked her view.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I humbly request your hand for this dance?”
Elizabeth looked up and found herself remarkably out of breath as a gentler set of eyes than she had ever seen in a man peered at her full of desire. Unwilling to upset the afternoon’s politeness, she acquiesced to Mr. Darcy’s request by holding out her hand and allowing him to assist her from her chair. A dissonant note clanged out before Miss Bingley recovered herself and continued the jovial reel that was still unfamiliar to Elizabeth’s ears
. Quickly she whispered to Mr. Darcy, “I’m afraid, sir, I’m not familiar with the steps of this dance.” Jane appeared to be equally unaware in moving slightly behind Mr. Bingleys movements.
Mr. Darcy quickly leaned closer to Elizabeth’s ear and whispered back “Fear not my lady, and I shall lead.”
As Mr. Bingley clasped the upper form of her sister Jane, Elizabeth soon found herself whisked away in the arms of Mr. Darcy, twirling and spinning around Mr. Bingley and his partner. The dance was a variation on a Scottish reel and Elizabeth could only best describe it as topsy-turvy in a teacup! Before too long, she and Jane were merrily laughing to the smiles of both gentlemen as they bumped and pardoned and continued the dance. Whether by accident or design, the tempo of the music increased until the final movements were nothing less than a complete frenzy. The music abruptly came to an end and Elizabeth’s face, bright and flushed from the exertion, looked up to Mr. Darcy to admire the tinge of pink in his cheeks. Poor Jane fell into a coughing fit.
Elizabeth ceased her obligatory applause for Caroline Bingley and rushed to her sister’s side, holding the opposite elbow of Mr. Bingley.
“Forgive me, forgive me, Miss Bennet, I was a fool to ask you to participate in such a lively dance.” Mr. Bingley struggled with his guilt.
Jane contradicted him between coughs as both of them escorted her to the nearest chair. Elizabeth furtively looked about for assistance and felt surprised when it was Mr. Darcy handed her a glass of water for Jane. She quickly nodded and helped Jane take the glass as her lungs still struggled for air.
“Perhaps Miss Bennet is not as recovered as she thought and should retire above stairs? For her own health, of course.” Miss Bingley offered in a singsong voice with slanted eyes.
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